The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  "We are betrothed to wed, Sire."

  "Hech—you are? Waesucks—she's catched you then! Och, but you could do worse, man Geordie. Much worse. I'll maybe come to your wedding ! But—watch you yon wee Primrose man. He'll mak an unchancy gudesire, I'm thinking, him !"

  "I thank Your Majesty for your interest But the wedding will not be for a year or so. Alison is young, yet"

  "Is that a fact? You're no' that hot, then! Why wait? For she's ready, that one—ooh aye, she's ready. I've watched her. But —maybe you're getting a' you want without the waiting? Eh, Jinglin' Geordie?"

  "Sire, Mistress Primrose is a young woman of virtue and honour..."

  "To be sure—they a' are! When it comes to marriage. And so is Mistress Gray, eh, Vicky? Oh, I agree, I agree—but varium et mutabile semper fcmina! Mind, I'm no sure my Annie is going to like this, Geordie."

  "I see no reason why not, Sire," Heriot said stiffly. "Alison has served Her Majesty well and faithfully. The business of her dismissal was ill-judged, unkindly done. We know now why . . ."

  "You do, heh? Then that's mair than I do. Why, man? What was at the back o' yon stramash ?"

  The other cleared his throat "It is a difficult matter to speak of, Sire. But we believe that the Queen has also been paying this blackmail to the Earl of Orkney—whether with Your Majesty's knowledge, or without"

  "Ooh, aye—you believe so? Go on," the King said, non-committally.

  "She has been forced to give the Earl jewels. Presumably to buy his silence. Over these unhappy Letters, we do presume. When Margaret Hartside brought those pieces to me, to sell, Her Majesty believed she was acting for the Earl—which she was not Mistress Hartside is secretly wed to Buchanan of Scotscraig, who was your Almoner and is one of the Earl's gentlemen. He gave her these jewels, saying that they were a gift from his master. To sell them for him, Buchanan. That they might set up house in Orkney."

  "Maybe aye, and maybe hooch-aye!" the monarch observed. "I commend your simple faith in the lassies, Geordie! I kent o' the marriage—but I didna let on to Annie. Yon Buchanan had his uses! But the bringing o' the gewgaws to you was fell stupid! Annie couldna do otherwise than she did."

  "Her Majesty wrongfully punished two innocent young women."

  The King leered at him. "You think so ? Och, awa to your bed, man. You are a right bairn in some matters, Geordie Heriot! And yet you presume to advise me, the King, on how to deal wi' my subjects! Forget the whole business, man."

  "I would wish to speak with the Queen on the subject, Sire, before I do," the other said stubbornly. "Have I your permission?"

  "No, you havena! You will say nothing more o' this. I will hae a bit word wi' her, mysel'. Now—be off. You did nane so badly up in Scotland, the pair o' you—but there's a lot you dinna ken, nor are like to ken. Aye—and Vicky, when you go North, you can agree that twenty thousand pounds Scots for the limmer Patrick Gray. But no' a plack mair, mind. Begone, then—and a guid night to you both. What's left o' it "

  * * *

  The next day's activities were to centre on Gravesend, where the Lord Mayor, aldermen and city company representatives of London came down to bid farewell to the Danish monarch whose squadron of ships was brought up-river thus far to anchor. Great play was made by the city deputation, in lengthy speeches, on the fact that it was from Gravesend, considered to be the seaward limit of the Port of London, that many illustrious sailors had ventured forth in the past, Willoughby, Frobisher and so on. All this, and the prodigal present-giving from Christian which followed, took much longer than James at least found suitable; and by the time that the royal party embarked to be rowed out to the Danish flagship, The Three Crowns, amidst more cannonading. His Britannic Majesty's patience had worn very thin. Farewells, he indicated, in a loud whisper, could be over-extended. George Heriot still accompanied his royal master, although his box was now nearly empty.

  On the Danish ship there was to be another banquet; and Christian, probably realising that if he delayed until the meal was over, or even well-established, he would almost certainly be in no state to present anything, plunged straight into present-giving. Every one of James's gentlemen, like the foreign ambassadors, got a jewel—even Heriot found himself the recipient of a handsome ring, not gilded this one, with a strange coat-of-arms. There followed the gifts to his hosts, his sister, her husband and their son, the Prince Henry. Anne was presented with a smacking kiss, and Christian's portrait set in diamonds, a princely gift indeed. James was delighted to get a copper cannon, especially cast in Helsingborg in Sweden, and bearing the British royal arms—and nothing would do but that it should be tried out there and then, powder produced and the gun fired, not once but many times. Happily for the less enthusiastic, practically all the flagship's gunpowder had been expended the day before, otherwise Prince Henry might have had to wait a long time before getting his gift. The Danish monarch had taken a great fancy to his nephew, and now displayed the scale of his affection in truly majestic fashion. Apparently the boy, asked earlier what he most desired in all the world, had declared that he would like a boat ah of his own. And now his Uncle Christian took Henry's shoulder and pointed to a full-rigged naval sloop-of-war, moored next to the flagship, one of the Danish squadron. It was his, he shouted, bellowing his laughter and beating his nephew almost to the deck with avuncular affection, all his own, with all its crew, all its armament, ammunition, equipment and furnishings, down to the ship's cat At least, that is what he seemed to be declaring, for Christian's English was uncertain. Utterly overwhelmed, the boy could only stare open-mouthed, wordless—and try to remain upright i

  Over the side they all went again, necessarily, to go inspect this astonishing gift, Anne distinctly tight-lipped and disapproving, forseeing all sorts of complications and disasters hereafter, and even James somewhat put out. He had been very pleased with his cannon, admittedly—but this sloop for his son had, he counted, eighteen cannon, and was in fact a more modern warship than any he could show in the fleet inherited from Elizabeth. Moderation, he muttered to Ludovick of Lennox as they were rowed out, moderation was in all things most necessar'. Christian and Henry, however, were in transports of enthusiasm.

  The sloop, thereafter, was explored from stem to stem, above and below decks, forecastle and quarter-galleries, such as no English vessel boasted, displayed and explained, and the officers introduced to their new young master. All this took a long time, and King James, very much supernumerary, grew ever more fretful and disgruntled. He was, of course, hungry as well as slightly put out, and he feared that the banquet back on the flagship would be ruined. Christian was impervious to all hints. James therefore summoned his Lord High Admiral, who seemed to be the right man for the occasion, and ordered him to do something, anything, to get them off this wretched sloop.

  Charles, formerly Lord Howard of Effingham, now Earl of Nottingham, who had outfaced Ehzabeth Tudor on more than one occasion, to say nothing of defeating the Spanish Armada, was not the man to be diffident with monarchs, especially foreign ones. A crusty old sea-dog, he had already lost all patience with the proceedings, and was only too glad to go up to Christian, tap him on the shoulder and tell him that it was time that they returned to the flagship for the meal, otherwise they would miss the four o'clock tide to get back into Gravesend. King Christian was not interested in getting into Gravesend; he was concerned with showing his favourite nephew this ship—and said so. The Admiral was so bold as to insist, under the eye of his own monarch Knowing that the Dane's English was doubtful, he shouted—in typical British fashion, with wretched foreigners-emphasising that four o'clock tide. Christian at least got the four o'clock bit, and delving into a capacious pocket, produced the fine round, gold watch which had been James's present to him, via George Heriot It said two o'clock. Grinning widely, the Dane raised two fingers of his right hand, in a distinctly rude gesture, and continuing with the upward movement, brought the fingers up to his royal forehead, where he wiggled them at the Lord Admiral, hooting hi
s accustomed laughter.

  It was unfortunate perhaps that Nottingham, tough as he was, was nevertheless particularly thin-skinned over only one matter —the fact that he had fairly recently married, at the age of seventy, a new wife young enough to be his grand-daughter; and the Countess was not only exceedingly good-looking but of a renowned generosity of nature. He took Christian's waving fingers to represent horns. Queen Anne's tinkling laughter nearby—she did not like the Countess of Nottingham—did not help matters. The Admiral exploded into nautical language, and shook his gnarled fist in the monarch's face.

  James looked in the other direction and declared plaintively that he wanted his dinner.

  Lennox and other courtiers rushed to come between Nottingham and King Christian—who appeared to be more astonished than outraged. All perceived now that a prompt move back to The Three Crowns was probably advisable, James leading the way down into the barges, despite his usual horror of water. Prince Henry pleaded to be left behind with his new acquisition—but his mother Galled him smartly back to her side.

  The banquet on the Danish flagship thereafter was less than usually successful. A Certain preoccupation was evident all round, with tensions, both on the deck and in the cabin. Christian himself was probably the least affected—of course, with the flagon his unfailing consolation.

  James brought matters to an abrupt close by again referring to the four o'clock tide, pointing out that his admirals assured him that if they let the ebb get too well established, the royal barges would be stuck in the mud off Gravesend. This got the Queen quickly to her feet, as it was intended to do; and though Christian protested that he had a fine fireworks display arranged for dusk, and that therefore all should pass the night on board, his brother-in-law, for once supported by Anne, declared that they had had enough of ships and bunks and water, and that he, for one, intended to sleep secure in Greenwich that night Besides, the Danish squadron was to sail at first light, and that was an unchancy time for leave-taking.

  So the fireworks were let off there and then, in very hurried and abortive fashion, and not even the ebullient Dane could raise much enthusiasm over what was inevitably something of a damp squib, with rockets pale in the sunshine and bangs much less satisfactory than real cannon-fire.

  With the tide ebbing inexorably and James becoming agitated, things were rounded off at speed, and a distinctly final farewell taken of the Danish guests, Christian looking bewildered as to why and where his splendid leave-taking day had gone wrong. James, as a final gesture, handed over what remained in George Heriot's box for his brother-in-law to distribute to any of his people who might have been missed out patting his fellow-monarch on the shoulder. Then he was hurrying down the steeply-sloping gangway to his barge, when abruptly the proximity of the sea below him seemed to strike him, and he waited until watermen came up to conduct him safely down, the while calling his Maker to preserve him from the perils of the deep. Anne, a sea-king's daughter, laughed unkindly, but was not far behind. Only young Henry lingered, and had to be brought off in the last barge, by Lennox, along with the servitors and other nonentities, tears in his eyes at losing his new hero and kindred spirit. Christian wept too.

  Heriot was also in the last barge, his usefulness now over for the time-being.

  "Thank God that's all by with!" Lennox confided to his friend, in a corner of the barge. "Christian is all very well, but his visit has gone on for too long. I, for one, am exhausted. As are you, I swear. Not to mention our liege lord."

  "No doubt," the other agreed. "But it is not our exhaustion, nor yet the King's, which concerns me so much as the exhaustion of the Exchequer! Funds, siller, pounds Sterling. This visit has cost a mint of money—and where it is all to come from, even to pay me back my share, the Lord knows. Eyen at the end there, King James threw away three-hundred pounds and more, in jewels. For nothing. The folly of it!"

  "At least he got a whole ship in return—and that's worth a deal, I'd say! Have you ever seen the like ? They say it cost twenty-five thousand pounds just to build that ship. What worth is a sloop-of-war, manned, armed and provisioned?"

  "Worth little or nothing to a king who does not go to war I" Heriot asserted. "He can scarcely sell it—and parliament will not give him money in exchange for an addition to the realm's navy, I think. Besides, it is the Prince's ship—whatever he can find to do with it! I am interested in hard money, gold, silver, jewels—not ships and cannon. I am, to be sure, a tradesman and huckster, and no nobleman with a mind above such things!"

  The Duke grinned. "Spoken like Geordie Heriot and none other ! But you need not concern yourself overmuch about James's purse now, my friend—nor your loans to him. He told me, while we were waiting on yon ship, that he has won part of his battle with parliament—the English parliament. They have agreed to grant him four hundred thousand pounds immediately, for his personal expenditure—although they refuse to give him a fixed annual income in return for his surrender of his feudal dues. In exchange for the four hundred thousand pounds, they claim that he may no longer levy customs duties personally but must hand all such over to parliament—although the judges declare that he is entitled to do this, in law. So you ought to get your money back now, Geordie, never fear." Lennox sighed. "Would that my problems were as nearly solved."

  "You think mine solved? I have yet to get the money out of the King's pocket And if parliament is to take to itself customs duties, than I lose the customs of Harwich haven which James granted me before we went to Scotland. I have been arranging their efficient collection—at cost to myself. The Lord giveth— perhaps—and the Lord taketh away, certainly! Blessed be the name of the Lord " Heriot smiled then, at his friend, for the first time for a while. "Forgive me, Vicky—I am a gloomy dog these days. And selfish. I am finding it hard to be so far away from my Alison. To be denied . . . what my being longs for. Yet you, I know well, are likewise so denied. I ask your pardon."

  "Aye, Geordie—we are a sorry pair! For our ladies to shake their fair heads over 1 At least I shall be seeing mine soon again. And I shall require all Mary's wits and good offices to get me through this parliament at Perth, I fear. I am not happy about this imposition of bishops that James is set on. For myself, I care not whether we have bishops or presbyters or the Pope himself! But can you see Scotland lying down to this ? Even though James has prepared the way, it seems."

  "He has?"

  "Oh, yes, James is cunning. He has been whining over this lord and that, giving his bishoprics to carefully chosen folk Aye, and setting Glasgow against St Andrews, Aberdeen against Brechin, and the like."

  "He will not win over Andrew Melville and his like-minded friends, for all that"

  "Ha—but here is more of his cunning. He has summoned Melville, and six others of the most prominent, of the Kirk party, down here to London. A royal command. To explain to him their views. So that they will not be there to rouse the parliament. If they refuse to come, he can banish them. Possibly he hopes for that. Either way, he gains. You must agree, for a fool, he is not backward at getting his own way!"

  "Who says James Stewart is a fool? Never George Heriot— only those who look on the surface, do not truly know the man. As he says himself, he's nane so Mate and kens what's what. And that, I think, is putting it modestly. I find him a sore trial, yes—but, by God, I prefer to be his friend than his enemy! If sometimes, foolishly, I forget it"

  PART THREE

  16

  GEORGE HERIOT was at his promenading in St. Paul's Church, discussing the state of quite a number of prominent folks' credit with Sir William Herrick, now also Court jeweller, and alleged to be the richest money-lender in London, when a stranger approached them and rather diffidently requested the favour of a word or two with Master Heriot. He did not look, nor sound, like any sort of prosperous client, was modestly dressed, but had a certain air about him which appeared to be compounded of an odd mixture of demonstrative if superficial self-denigration, contained force and down-damped humour. Heriot had seen
him before somewhere. Excusing himself to Herrick, he led the newcomer aside, into the same side-chapel where he had once taken the Duke of Lennox.

  ‘I should know your face, sir," he said—and that was true, for apart altogether from the demeanour and bearing, the countenance was unusual, with a great swelling brow which seemed to dominate all, and receding hah, above keen, almost foxy features, with a long nose and chin and pointed little auburn beard. The eyes were deep, dark and rather sad. He was approximately Heriot's own age.

  "You will have seen me at certain Court masques, Master Heriot—since I think that you are not a play-goer? My name is Shakespeare—Will Shakespeare, of the Globe Playhouse, in Southwark And of His Majesty's Players."

  "Ah—to be sure. That is it. I saw you at Wilton once, I think. With my Lord Southampton's company."

  "My lord has been sufficiently kind to advance my poor offerings, in what we are assured are the right directions!" the other agreed gravely—although Heriot did not miss the faint mockery behind the words.

  "Your offerings, as you name them sir, are their own best patron. You have, I believe, written many plays and sonnets and masques, all well-spoken of by those knowledgeable in such matters. I have heard that you have not failed even to write of the sad plight of money-lenders and usurers. Her Majesty indeed, for a little, took to calling me Shylock!"

  "My Merchant was of Venice, sir, not of Scotland—but a man of parts, nevertheless. He had a long memory, a strong sense of justice and a grim humour. I am told that the Scots very generally display the same? Even His Majesty's royal self!"

  "H'mm. Perhaps. And what can I do for you, Master Shakespeare? You now have no lack of wealthy patrons, I understand. It cannot be that you wish to borrow money, I think?"