The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  Heriot informed that the King also seemed to be turning against his Chief Secretary and Lord President There must be something to bring these unlikely forces together, something devious but very potent. It could all be a policy of divide and rule—with three dividers at work. In an academic sense it would be interesting to see which actually did the ruling in the end—although, since one was their sovereign lord, there was no question as to where their duties and hopes should lie.

  Alison's opinion of her sovereign lord was not of the highest, and her betrothed found himself, not for the first time, standing up for his peculiar monarch and seeking to explain away some of his manoeuvres for the greater good of his two kingdoms. He was less successful in this than in some of his endeavours with the girl.

  She went on to expound upon the King's extraordinary methods and notions of justice, by instancing the case of George Sprott, the late Logan's notary and doer. Balmerino, allegedly on instructions from London, had arrested the Eyemouth lawyer and subjected him to a series of questioning sessions, by torture and otherwise— with the object, it seemed, of proving that Logan Sprott's client and friend, had been one of the main instigators of the notorious Gowrie Conspiracy of eight years before. All the principal actors in that mysterious drama had been extravagantly dealt with, those who supported the King's peculiar story most handsomely rewarded, those on the other side forfeited, slain, executed, even their very names banished. Two figures only, connected therewith by rumour, however persistently, had escaped—Robert Logan of Restalrig and his cousin Patrick, Master of Gray. Poor Sprott was something of a substitute, a scapegoat.

  Heriot declared that Logan was a rogue, whether or no he was involved in the Gowrie business. He had long been employed to do the Master of Gray's dirty work—or some of it And his lawyer and close associate was likely to be tarred with the same stick. He would be apt to deserve his uncomfortable questionings.

  Perhaps, Alison conceded. But did he deserve hanging? It was surely the first time a lawyer had been hanged for his client's offence!

  Brought up short, the man stared at her. She informed him that George Sprott was indeed dead. The Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Dunbar, had gone over the heads of Balmerino, the Chancellor and the Privy Council—therefore, presumably, on the King's direct authority—had taken Sprott out of the Tolbooth, treated him kindly in his own house, ordered a new and gentler questioning by Sir Thomas Hamilton in his own presence—and then, having evidently got what he wanted, set up a swift secret trial and had the lawyer hanged at the Cross the next day. None doubted but so that he could not speak further. The charge was high treason and forgery.

  Heriot was not a little shaken. What all this meant he had little idea. But certain implications were clear. Dunbar would never have dared to do it all, over-riding the Chief Secretary, Chancellor and Privy Council, without King James's specific agreement. Therefore it was to the King's advantage that Sprott should be silenced for good. But Balmerino had questioned him at length, earher—so Balmerino probably now had the same information. It would be a rash man, in the circumstances, who gave the Chief Secretary a long life and fortune.

  One phrase worked in Heriot's mind—high treason and forgery. Treason was the obvious blanket-charge, to cover practically all activities of which the Crown did not approve. But forgery was different, on another level altogether. In this context, what did it mean? To use the word in the same breath as high treason? What forgery could be important enough for that—and linked presumably with Logan of Restalrig, the only point at which poor Sprott impinged on national affairs ? It was Logan's papers which had revealed the whereabouts of the Casket Letters—at least to all but the King, Queen and Orkney. Logan's papers would have been in the care of his notary. Forgery, then—it could be that! The Casket Letters, the most damning and dangerous papers in all Scotland's story, which had already brought a queen to the block? Was this the answer to the riddle—a copy of the Letters, or some of them? It could explain much—including why the Master of Gray was apparently presently supporting Dunbar against Balmerino. If he held the originals, he would be much concerned about copies, extracts or forgeries. Was this, in fact, what the Gowrie Conspiracy had been about ? The Gowrie family had also, at one time, held these fateful Letters—and had paid the penalty. Had George Sprott been just too clever a lawyer and kept a copy ?

  Alison had more than that to tell. The rumour in Edinburgh was that the Earl of Dunfermline was as likely to fall as was Balmerino. He was, strangely enough, Provost of the city as well as Chancellor—multiplicity of offices being a feature of the regime —and it was being whispered in the wynds and closes that Dunbar's spies were watching the Earl's every move, bailies being secretly questioned and threatened, and so on. The girl said that her father did not give the Chancellor six months. Small wonder if he, and all the Council of which Dunfermline was chairman, were worried men. A kind of quiet terror was beginning to reign in high places in Scotland.

  When, after a few days, George Heriot took reluctant farewell of his bride-to-be, promising that, though the heavens should fall, he would be up to marry her next summer—having now actually got the marriage-contract signed by her father—he too was a worried man. Clearly crisis point was rapidly being reached in the affairs of his native land, and he did not at all like the way that crisis appeared to be shaping. Everything pointed to the most intricate, unscrupulous, not to say Machiavellian plotting, and all emanating from the ultimate source of power, the King himself. Admittedly the Master of Gray was undoubtedly engaged in equally elaborate and dangerous plotting; in fact the whole Scottish situation was almost certainly a personal duel between these two so different but equally subtle and devious protagonists, a long-drawn-out chess game, with ministers of state as well as lesser men, governments, parliaments, even religions, as mere pawns to be moved and manipulated and sacrificed at will. Clearly the game was reaching a decisive stage—and Heriot misliked being one of the pawns, misliked being connected in any way with the entire ominous and alarming affair. Especially just when the greatest personal happiness of his life was imminent—and might conceivably be put in jeopardy.

  As he rode southwards, in uneasy frame of mind, he asked himself—as so often before—what it was the King wanted from him in these errands and commissions ? When there were obviously so many other spies, agents and informers in action already. James did not need him, his goldsmith and banker, for underground probings when he had Dunbar and all his minions, besides God alone knew what other secret informants. Yet there must be a reason. Could it be that James trusted him, where he did not fully trust Dunbar or any of the others ? Knew him to have no ambition, as regards power, position or more wealth than he had already ? If friendship was the word, they had been friends for a long time, near twenty years now—and by the very nature of things, James could have few friends. Indeed, apart from Ludovick Stewart, he could think of none—since favourites and courtiers could never be classed as friends. A reigning monarch's position was the acme of loneliness—and perhaps James Stewart needed friends? However little these might affect his behaviour and policies. That might be the answer. The thought did not make the man any more joyful.

  21

  BACK IN LONDON, no atmosphere of crisis, or indeed of urgency, was detectable. James appeared to be wholly engrossed in young Carr, and each day hinged on the Latin lesson—with the King now said actually to be using a rod to chastise his pupil, when necessary, with kisses to counter any ill effects. Not that this was allowed to interfere too greatly with James's other activities, the Court spending most of its time in Hertfordshire, either at Royston or at Salisbury's house of Theobalds, hunting, feasting, gambling, debating philosophy and theology, or just drinking.

  Finding the monarch absent, Heriot went first to Denmark House, to report to the Queen. Anne was relieved by his account of the proceedings at Linlithgow, and thankful that the wretched and embarrassing business of Margaret Hartside was finally disposed of without further distres
s. Her gratitude took the form of ordering a large supply of jewellery and plate—on credit, of course —and of borrowing a considerable sum of money in order to pay off indebtedness to Sir William Herrick, interim jeweller. Master Geordie was once again firmly restored to the position of Queen's man-of-business.

  Learning that Anne was going to Theobalds next day, to join her husband from not-far-distant Royston, Heriot arranged to go with her. The occasion was the reception of an embassy from Sweden, come to discuss a possible betrothal of the fourteen-year old King Gustavus with the Princess Elizabeth. Anne declared that she was utterly opposed to the match, in that her brother King Christian was now again at war with Sweden, however inadvisedly, and such a betrothal would smack of treachery. James apparently saw it otherwise, as an opportunity to play his favoured role of the peacemaker of Europe. Any such wedding would take place over her dead body, the Queen confided— though, of course, the Swedes must not be offended. Fortunately Elizabeth was only twelve, so she could and would hold out against any formal engagement on the grounds of immaturity— which even James could hardly deny. Anne also complained at having to go to Theobalds at all, or anywhere else outside London, for the reception. But James would let nothing—except perhaps the hateful Carr—interfere with his passion for hunting, in season or out This hunting was assuming the proportions of a national scandal, she averred; indeed there had been many complaints from the Council, the law officers, and in parliament that the King was never available for two-thirds of the year, to sign papers and approve and ratify Acts, without horsed deputations having to go galloping after him through wood and brake. James had even sent parliament an official announcement, by herald, declaring that his health depended upon his regular taking of this sort of exercise, and that it was the duty of all loyal lieges to rejoice heartily that the sovereign retained his health, and to abet him in the pursuit thereof. Indignantly she cited the recent case cf a sitting of parliament which could not proceed with its business until it knew whether or no the Crown had given assent to certain legislation—and in the end was reduced to taking the words of Sir Francis Hastings that the Lord Chief Justice had told him that the Lord Kinloss had said that the King was pleased enough with the Bill and it should pass.

  Heriot duly sympathised with the Queen and the parliamentarians, but permitted himself a small smile, nevertheless.

  The next day, then, he rode in the Queen's train the thirteen miles to Theobalds—to discover on arrival in the early afternoon that James had been away at the hunt for some hours; moreover had left orders that both the Queen and the Swedish embassage should join him in the chase, on arrival. The surprised Swedes had already put in an appearance and had been duly despatched onwards into the wild-wood. In high dudgeon, Anne had to follow —since she was not going to allow any hole-and-corner agreement on her daughter's future to be patched up, as it were between bucks, lacking her own presence. Heriot perforce accompanied her.

  It took them two full hours to locate the monarch—although they came across sundry parties of huntsmen, disconsolate or otherwise, who had lost touch with their tireless sovereign, either by accident or design, but dared not return to base minus the King. There was an unending supply of deer, they complained, Salisbury having imported them from far and near—easy enough for him, who was excused hunting on account of his humpback. The hunt might well go on for hours yet

  They caught up with the Swedish party, presently, still searching for the elusive monarch—to Anne's relief. Soon afterwards they heard the baying of hounds, and apparently coming approximately their way. Infected a little by the exciting sound—for the Queen was a fair huntswoman herself, when the spirit moved a rather indolent nature—she led the way at a canter to intercept

  At the edge of a grassy clearing amidst the scrub they paused, with the hounds obviously not far off and giving tongue loudly.

  They were barely halted when three fallow deer, a buck and two does, leapt out from the thickets and raced across the far side of the glade. The Queen, who rather prided herself on her marksmanship, cried aloud demanding a bow. One of the laggard huntsmen gladly spurred forward to hand her his. But it was too late. By the time that Anne had fitted a quarrel and taken aim, the deer had gone from sight

  Then, with the baying and yelping very close, four more deer, all bucks, burst into view, bounding hugely. And behind them came the first of the grey, leaping, slender deer-hounds, only a yard or two at heel.

  Quick as thought Anne raised her bow again. A crossing shot is difficult, with a swift and bounding target, aim-off of the essence. The last buck was the largest of the four with the best head. Automatically she chose it Twisting in her saddle, she loosed off. The twang of her bow coincided with two unforseen developments. The foremost of the pursuing hounds suddenly leapt high and forward, teeth snapping, for the haunch of the last buck, and the beast, sensing the attack, leapt and twisted away sideways—all in the twinkling of an eye. The arrow transfixed, not the buck but the bounding deer-hound full in the throat, and it fell, writhing while its fellows streamed over it and on after the disappearing deer.

  There were exclamations, even a little laughter, from the Queen's party, Anne tutting her annoyance, the Swedes sympathising. Then one of the courtiers behind emitted a cry.

  "Christ's Wounds—it’s Jewel! Look at the white hind toes !"

  Appalled, everyone stared. All at Court knew Jewel as the King's favourite hound, companion of chases innumerable, brought from Scotland. The Queen clapped a gauntleted hand to mouth.

  Then the hunt came crashing from the scrub, in full cry, men shouting, horns blowing, horses snorting and steaming, James half-a-head in front, with Montgomery at one flank, Lennox at another, Southampton, Doncaster and Dand Kerr jostling close and young Carr a little way behind. Past the fallen hound they all pounded, without a glance—past the Queen's party likewise— and on after the dogs and the deer. Stragglers followed in ragged order and passed from sight The glade was empty again.

  Almost reluctantly, and frowning, Anne moved her horse nearer to the twitching animal. One of her attendants jumped down, look at the hound closely, then shook his head. At a nod from the Queen he drew his knife and finished off the poor creature.

  "Carry it," Anne jerked, briefly. Picking up the limp body, the man with difficulty slung it over his horse's withers, to mount behind it In silence they rode on after the others.

  They did not have very far to go. In another marshy clearing beside a mere, they found the entire hunt, the hounds milling around, the horses steaming and all the men dismounted—this because the King himself was dismounted and none must remain higher than he. James was more than dismounted. He was busy, bent down, knife in hand, ripping up the belly of a fallen buck and hauling out the entrails with bloodstained hands. For a man who could abide the sight of neither naked steel nor blood, he was extraordinary in his habit of nearly always doing his own gralloching.

  The steaming viscera out, heaving and wriggling on the grass seemingly with its own obscene life, the King straightened up, saw his wife and her company, nodded genially, and signed to Robert Carr to come pull off his riding-boots while he leaned on Montgomery's shoulder. Lennox, bowing to the Queen, strolled across to Heriot's side as all save Anne dismounted.

  James, boots off, supported now by Montgomery and Carr, stepped gingerly forward and into the heap of entrails and guts and there paddled and dabbled his bare feet and legs in the bloody, slithering mass. He was a great believer in this as a remedy for gout, declaring that it had to be done at once, and in the place where the brute was slain, an excellent remede and recure for strengthening and restoring the sinews.

  In the midst of this gory business, James perceived the hound lying across the horse's back. Brows raised, he demanded what this might be?

  Amidst a sudden hush, the Queen spoke. "It is the beast Jewel, Sire. Your hound. By an ill mischance it was shot..."

  "Jewell My Jewel? Waesucks—shot, you say, woman! My Jewel deid!"
>
  "It was a mischance. The hound leapt forward. The quarrel, aimed at the buck, struck the dog ..."

  "Whae shot it? Whae killed my Jewel? What ill limmer did this to me? I'll teach him to mend his shooting! By God, I will!" Bare and bloody feet notwithstanding, James tottered over unaided to the horse which bore the hound's body. "Och, Jewel— Jewel!" he wailed. "My ain bit tike! Jewel, auld friend!" Tears streaming, the King stroked the rough grey coat

  Anne drew a long breath. "I shot it, James," she said. Her voice shook shghtly, but she held her head high. "I drew on the buck But Jewel leapt, and the quarrel..."

  "You did ? You shot my Jewel, woman! Precious soul o' God! I might hae kent it! Nane other would hae been sic a fool! Whae said you could shoot at my buck, anyway ? God save us frae fool women! How dared you to shoot when my hounds were close?"

  "How dare you, James, bespeak me so!" Anne cried back. "Me, the Queen! Before all these. And these Swedes! How dare you, sir!"

  It was the King's turn to draw a long breath. After a distinct pause, he spoke in a different tone. "Ooh, aye—I dare, right enough. I can dare mair than that, Annie, see you! I, James Stewart, will dare plenties, when need be. And let nane forget it! But... maybe now isna the convenient time, I'll grant you. Aye —we'll put it by, the now." He turned. "My boots, Robin—my boots, laddie." He gave a final pat to the dead hound. "Fare-thee-weel, Jewel, auld friend. You were truer friend to me than many I'd name! Aye—and that's twa guid hounds gone in twa days, waesucks. Jowler yesterday—and now Jewel." His boots pulled on for him, he stamped across for his own lathered roan. Mounting, he called, "We'll awa' back, then. Enough for this day—aye, or any day !" Without another glance at wife or Swedish embassage, he reined round to lead the way back to Theobalds House.