Turn of the Tide

by Skea, Margaret

  ‘Yes, though he spends most of the day at Leith, in James’ entourage.’

  ‘Through the good offices of his uncle, I imagine?’

  ‘Aye, Alexander is well-placed.’

  ‘Too well-placed, some would say. Have a care Munro. William doesn’t improve with age and any link with Braidstane, however tenuous, will stick in his craw.

  Pulling at his doublet as if it were uncomfortably tight, Munro mounted the stairs in the King’s Wark to where James held temporary court. He had hoped that waiting on Glencairn in the morning with Kate might have fulfilled their obligations, and so had been put out by the order to attend at Leith.

  Kate, who had perversely reacted to John’s warning with an increased determination to spend more time with the Montgomeries, had smiled up at Glencairn, her eyes wide and disarming, expressing herself tired and wishing to rest and so begged to be excused. A foolishness that at Broomelaw she would have recognized as such. Here, her guard lowered, whether by the atmosphere of general goodwill surrounding the festivities, or by the generosity of the welcome they had received in the Montgomerie household, she allowed her desire for this new friendship to override any fear she had of Glencairn. On the way back to their lodgings she defended herself.

  ‘We were promised to them and I won’t break a promise without cause. You may go to Leith and welcome. Besides, there is no place for me there. If Jean Montgomerie does not go without special bidding, then I should not, no matter what Glencairn may think.’ Colour stole into her cheeks. ‘I will rest awhile, to make it true, and then fulfil our promise.’ She reached up to tug his hair. ‘But two days since and you sought to convince me. They are our friends now and while we may not trumpet it, I won’t discard them altogether.’

  Munro however flatly refused to allow her to walk to the Canongate alone. ‘I won’t risk your safety to satisfy your conscience.’ And so, despite her protests, he saw her safely through the archway into the sunshine of the Montgomeries’ garden.

  Now, he supposed, she gossiped with Elizabeth and Grizel, Patrick perhaps stretched at their feet, while he suffered in this airless chamber. He scanned the room for Glencairn, and was pleased to find him outside the tight circle that hummed around James, for he had little desire to be presented to the King. He made his way through the throng, catching snippets of conversation, logging without deliberate thought the names and faces that swam across his line of sight. He was surprised to find that he recognized many of the men who thronged here, from the hunt that the Montgomeries had provided at Fintrie; and could categorize most by their competence or otherwise on a horse.

  The windows that gave onto the waterside were narrow, the breeze from outside scarcely penetrating, so that crossing to Glencairn was like wading through a stew of sweat overlaid with scent. Munro squeezed past a rotund man, whose belly strained at the buttons of his doublet, jutting out over his hose like the prow of a ship. He noted with distaste the grimed rim of the heavily frilled ruff and the gravy trails that patterned the burgundy satin below. His own clothes, though no match in quality or indeed fashion, were, in all essentials, clean; only the dust on his knee-length boots indicating the long walk down from Edinburgh.

  The Cunninghame party were crushed into a corner at the rear of the room, Glencairn and John deep in conversation. For a moment he thought William missing, then found him, already a mite unsteady, propping up the wall behind Glencairn. As he neared he saw Patrick Maxwell of Newark also battling through the crush and thought – and there’s another reason why I would rather not be here.

  Chapter Six

  Hugh saw Munro enter, but made no acknowledgement, reckoning, rightly, that now wasn’t the time to broadcast their acquaintance. There was a lull in the general hum, broken by a single bark of laughter. All attention swivelled towards the Cunninghames. Maxwell, whom Hugh knew only by reputation was next to William, a match in his air of arrogance and the careless ostentation of his dress. ‘More silver than sense’ the talk went, ‘and the need to deeve any who might listen with his grand scheme for the enlargement of Newark’ as if it was a royal residence he aimed for and not just a laird’s house. He turned and looked directly at Hugh, radiating, even at a distance, an antagonism more personal than the long-standing Cunninghame and Montgomerie feud warranted.

  Alexander, his discussion with James at an end, retreated, taking Hugh with him. ‘The word from your brother George; it may be fitting to present it to the King at supper.’

  ‘I hadn’t intended to wait on supper. Elizabeth . . .’

  ‘Will understand you cannot always be with her. You have it?’

  ‘Aye, though I doubt its value.’

  ‘You forget it is due to your presence at court that James invited you to share in the jaunt to Norway. Nor would you have been at court without word to bring. Don’t underestimate the worth of what George sends, new gossip or not.’

  It was an argument that Hugh had listened to so many times that his attention wandered. The Cunninghames had separated into two distinct groups: Glencairn and John working their way towards the King, William the centre of a small knot who seemed to find ample amusement in disparaging those about them. Again, he caught a glance directed at him, the malice tangible. He belatedly attended to Alexander.

  ‘The English Queen will have to die sometime, and you do well to ensure that when she does, you will be conveniently placed to share in the good things to come. You have not only yourself to think on, and others have spent more than the odd shilling on your behalf.’

  The thought of his new daughter encouraging frankness, Hugh said, ‘It’s been four years since and nothing to show for it. I have a mind to try for a land grant in Ireland.’

  ‘For that, you need currency in the English court.’

  ‘George has influence and will spend it willingly on my account, for there would be pickings for him also. Maybe more than he can presently hope for.’

  ‘Aye, well, don’t lose the standing you have here without making gey sure of better elsewhere.’

  Hugh laughed. ‘George won’t let me do anything over hasty. He was born with caution stamped into his soul, and has a sound grasp of politics and money beside, for all that he is a cleric.’

  Alexander smiled. ‘Or maybe because of it.’

  They were in a tavern hard by the dock, dining on cold mutton washed down by ale, passable only in that it hadn’t been much watered.

  ‘Speaking of Ireland,’ Alexander picked up the conversation, ‘the word is that Hamilton is for Dublin, he and Fullerton both, to establish a college. Though no doubt they will be charged with other, less talked of tasks. It’s a canny move by Lennox to keep a close eye on England’s back door and one that may prove profitable.’

  Hugh, who had been concentrating on the sawing of a particularly tough bit of mutton, raised his head at the mention of Hamilton. ‘Teaching is it? That’ll suit him well for he couldn’t soldier to save himself.’

  ‘It isn’t an army that the King needs, but canny folk who look to the future and bide their time. Take care that the likes of Hamilton don’t steal the advantage of you, whether by Latin or not.’ Alexander was thoughtful. ‘Ireland is maybe not so bad an idea, but you mustn’t go ram-stam at it. Allow James to think it is in his service you go.’

  Hugh slid to the end of the bench. ‘How can I not heed your advice when it is dinned into me from all sides and some of them too close to home to avoid. I suppose,’ he pulled out the letter, ‘It’s time to share this with James.’

  The Cunninghames were firmly lodged next to the King, Munro in the background. Again Hugh didn’t acknowledge him as he approached James in the company of his uncle Alexander.

  James looked across. ‘Ah, Montgomerie, and Braidstane. It is well it is not.’ He gestured at William. ‘It is some little time since I had both Cunninghames and Montgomeries so close.’

  Hugh bowed low over the jewelled hand.

  ‘Come, sit by me. You have a bairn I hear.’


  ‘Sire.’

  ‘A bonny lass?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘And your wife, she’s here?’

  ‘In Edinburgh and fair excited at the prospect of watching the procession. I have told her of the Queen’s beauties . . .’

  James was smiling. ‘You may present her to us, and the bairn.’

  Hugh bowed again. ‘I have word from London also.’

  James waved his hand. ‘I’ll hear all presently, but first, how is the hunting in Ayrshire? I couldn’t make your wedding but I haven’t forgot that you are as keen on the chase as I and not so poor at procuring it.’

  William cut in, ‘Ayrshire has but poor sport, Sire, but we have recently taken a good count at Newark, without scarce a dent in the herd that run in the woods there. My cousin,’ he stepped back and nudged Maxwell forward, ‘Is well placed to offer a goodly entertainment.’

  Maxwell bowed in his turn, a fixed smile on his face. ‘I would be honoured Sire.’

  The King dangled the possibility of accepting Maxwell’s hospitality like a noose. ‘Aye, well, we will think on it. I haven’t the leisure for a jaunt for a week or two, but I won’t forget the offer.’ He turned back to Hugh. ‘I trust you have something of interest to pass on, for I’m fair deeved with prattle that says little and is worth less.’

  Unwisely, Hugh chose to start with the common talk of the court. ‘Elizabeth they say ails, and though, when done out in her wig, with caked colour on her face and the high ruffs she favours, will pass for hale, seen undressed, she is like a plucked chicken.’ Aware of Alexander’s stillness he hurried on, ‘Her hair is all but gone and the apothecary never far from her door.’

  James grunted, ignored the impertinence. ‘And for that your brother has sent word from London? He might have saved himself the bother.’

  ‘It is talk that I wouldn’t have thought to repeat only that it is backed up by the certain knowledge that Elizabeth has taken up with Foreman and has granted him certain monies. As she is her father’s daughter and well known not to spend lightly, nor yet to bestow unwarranted favour, the rumours of her ill-health cannot all be false. It is my brother’s opinion,’ he felt the need to embroider a little, ‘and he has made a study of Foreman’s methods; that he is a charlatan and it is a measure of Elizabeth’s fear that she is driven to treatment from such as he.’

  ‘What does a cleric know of medicine?’ James was dismissive.

  Hugh was beginning to sweat. ‘Not George, Sire. Another brother, who has studied these five years under the best physicians that France and Italy can provide, and is indeed,’ another exaggeration, ‘highly sought after.’

  William muttered to Maxwell. ‘Plucked chicken the English Queen may be, but her neck isn’t wrung yet, and much good it does us that she cannot appear without half an hour of trowelling to her face.’

  ‘You have something to add, Cunninghame? Some new intelligence perhaps?’ James swung his attention away from Hugh.

  ‘I but commended your own good health, Sire.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Hugh, knowing that there was danger in dismissal if he didn’t leave something for James to mull over, said, ‘There is other gossip with maybe more bite to it: the English court grows restive and there are those ready to ensure that the changeover, when it comes, will come easy.’

  ‘Do you have names? Or is it but idle chatter that cannot be substantiated?’

  ‘I have names, but . . .’ Hugh glanced at the men who eddied around James. ‘It may not be wise to spread the gossip so far . . .’

  A glimmer of a smile flitted across James’ face. ‘I’ll look for you in the morning then. I trust it will be worth the wait.’

  So do I, Hugh thought, taking some comfort from the annoyance on William’s face.

  James rose. ‘Ah, Cunninghame, did you have anything else to say? No doubt it will hold.’

  Hugh, now that he had won another, more private, audience, was glad of the respite and a chance to chew over with Alexander how best to present the meagre scraps of information that George had sent. Despite the number of times that he had presented himself at court since his marriage and Alexander’s best efforts to tutor him, he still found his tongue no match for his sword. He needed a temper on him to cut and thrust with words, and to make any display of temper in James’ presence was dangerous. He stepped back to allow the King passage and was rewarded by a brief nod. Too close to William for comfort, he turned to follow in James’ wake but was jostled from behind. He stepped sideways, prepared to make allowance for the general crush, but was jostled again, clearly with intent. This time he swung round, an angry flush spreading across his face, and found himself staring into a pair of pale eyes that radiated dislike.

  William, just far enough to the side to be absolved of any involvement in the jostling said, ‘I believe, Braidstane, you haven’t yet met Maxwell, though he is well acquainted with your wife.’

  Mindful of where he was, of the quiet that had fallen around them and the number of folk watching with interest, Hugh bowed; tried to move on.

  Maxwell stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his arm. ‘How is dear Elizabeth?’

  Hugh wrested free.

  William detained him. ‘Come, come, Braidstane. We are charged with friendship, are we not, and are but following the normal courtesies.’

  Maxwell nodded in agreement. ‘And the bairn? You have a girl, I hear.’

  Hugh felt a hand at his back, Alexander’s voice behind him.

  ‘Cunninghame, Maxwell.’ He gave an exaggerated bow. ‘I’m afraid I must take Hugh away. Robert Montgomerie looks for him presently.’ Outside, Alexander released him. ‘Have a care, Hugh. You know fine that Cunninghame seeks to draw you into a fight and one that will lay all blame at your door. Much good it will do you being here, if it is but to fan the flames of an old quarrel. Don’t throw away the winter’s work for the sake of a dolt like William.’

  ‘Just to look at him makes me fair sick and this Maxwell, I don’t know how or in what vein he is acquainted with Elizabeth, but so he claimed.’

  ‘And so could any one of a hundred Cunninghame cousins.’ Alexander lengthened his stride. ‘Claiming acquaintance is one thing, having it another. Forget them and concentrate on your own affairs. We have enough to do to put together a good speir for James and little enough time to do it, forbye the truce between Robert and Glencairn is flimsy and won’t stand much shaking.’

  He strode ahead. Hugh was well aware that he had need of Alexander’s way with words. Nor did he underestimate the value of having an uncle as one of James’ inner circle. In Norway he might have been, but so had three hundred others, all seeking to make capital of their presence.

  ‘Are you bid to Robert? Or was that a pretty fiction to make my escape the easier?’

  Alexander didn’t slow his pace. ‘I am bid, to a late supper, and the thought of missing out on the best of it doesn’t appeal, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t lag.’

  Robert turned at their entrance, his smile, warm for Alexander, was absent for Hugh. ‘I had thought,’ he said, ‘that we might be spared your company tonight. The talk was all of how thick you were with Cunninghame and like to spend the evening in debate with him and others of his kin, rather than your own. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t James make an especial decree that feuds were to be avoided. Or is it that your idea of living peaceably is to spark with William for all to see?

  Hugh was defensive. ‘I didn’t seek the confrontation.’

  Alexander supported him, ‘In all fairness, it was William’s doing and though there is no doubt that the intention was to bait Hugh, we escaped with little said on either side that would bear repeating.’

  The edge left Robert’s voice. ‘Steer clear of them, Hugh. It is a chancy thing to cross swords, however lightly, with anyone, far less with William. And in the present circumstance would be folly indeed.’

  Elizabeth was seated in a window reveal, jiggling the baby
on her hip, and opposite her, Kate Munro, her legs curled underneath her like a bairn. She straightened as Robert spoke and her hands, which until then had lain still in her lap, began to crumple at her skirt.

  Alexander came towards them. ‘Elizabeth is to be presented to the King and Queen.’ He touched the babe’s cheek. ‘And the bairn. It is an honour that many would wish for.’ He turned back to Robert, drawing him away. ‘The plan for the procession is set, and your place in it.’

  Elizabeth placed her hand on Hugh’s sleeve. ‘I know that you court James for our benefit, but take care the price is not too high.’

  Robert and his lady had retired to their chamber, Hugh and Elizabeth ready to follow by the time Munro arrived to collect Kate. She had nearly given up on him, and was ready to accept Patrick’s offer to walk her back to Merlyon’s Wynd, when he appeared in the doorway. That he hadn’t had the best of days was evident from his expression, so she wasn’t surprised when he refused the invitation to join the Montgomeries the following morning.

  ‘Glencairn has prior claim. We are both bid to lunch at his lodgings, and inclination or not, we have no choice.’

  Elizabeth didn’t press, perhaps thinking of the rollicking that Hugh had received from Robert and the consequent coolness that had marred the atmosphere all evening. She toyed with the ribbons that trimmed her sleeve. ‘And Wednesday? Can you meet with us then? Robert is to be part of the procession, but we have debated at length where to stand, and have made a goodly choice.’

  There was a weariness in Munro. ‘It is perhaps an over public occasion on which to flaunt new friendships, however much we might wish it.’ He steered Kate towards the door. ‘I trust you will excuse us. Old obligations are aye the difficult ones. We should take our leave now, for we can’t bide past Thursday.’

  Patrick bowed over Kate’s hand. ‘No need to be maudlin. If we meet in the press on Wednesday, well. If not, our friendship can stand the strain. Renfrew is not far from Ayrshire; you will all no doubt have opportunity to meet again. I am the loser here, for I make for France next week and heaven knows when I’ll be back. Unless there is a wedding to attend. I might,’ he tapped Grizel’s shoulder, ‘only might mind, be able to take leave for that.’