Unicorn Rampant

by Nigel Tranter

  John found the Queen to be of middle years, growing plump, plain of feature and with a long pointed nose, but autocratic of nature—and not very welcoming on this occasion, since she well knew why the Duke of Lennox had come. Normally she got on well enough with Ludovick— who was admittedly easy to get on with.

  "You are sent to drag me to this stupid wedding, Vicky Stewart," she declared, at sight of them. She had never lost her foreign accent, but overlaid by a Doric flavour from her years in Scotland, a curious blend resulted, often quite unintelligible to English ears. "I do not wish to go. I am indeed unable to go, a sick woman. You may tell James so. Not that he cares for my state."

  "I am sorry to hear that, Your Majesty—the more so since you look so well," the Duke said, diplomatically. "No doubt it is your spirits which are low. The wedding will do you much good, I swear. There will be much to entertain, masques and play-acting, dancing and pageantry—all to Your Majesty's taste."

  "Perhaps. But I shall not be there!"

  "Surely you will come, Anne? If only for my sake! For James will never forgive me if I do not bring you. He said as much."

  "Why does James want me to go there? He requires no wife, with those shameless young men! I am not to be insulted so. Who is this young man whom you have brought here? Do not say to me that you too, Vicky Stewart, have become so, so . . ."

  "This is my son. By Mary Gray, whom you know, Anne. John—Sir John Stewart of Methven, now Keeper of Dumbarton Castle."

  "So—your by-blow, is it? And so good to look at! Mary Gray I remember well, a woman of much worth and cleverness—despite her father, the man Gray."

  "Yes. Although Patrick had his points, see you."

  "You, young man—what brings you to London? Not King James's favours, I hope, no?"

  Embarrassed, John looked away. "No, Your Majesty. Or . . . not that, no. The King has been kind ... or, leastways, gracious. I, I. . ."

  His father came to his rescue. "John was privileged to do James a useful service. More than one. At Edinburgh. James insisted that he came south with us."

  "Ah. And what does he find for you to do, in this wretched London, young man? No good, I would jalouse." That sounded odd on guttural Danish lips.

  "Nothing, Majesty," John told her, simply.

  "Nothing? He has nothing for you?"

  "No doubt in time James will find occupation for him," Ludovick said.

  "But what occupation? I do not trust James's occupations for young men. I have it better, yes. You will come to me, Sir John. Yes, that is it. I could use so goodly a young man in this Somerset House. I have too many women here. And old men whom James he has sent to spy and keek upon me.

  Evil old men! That is it, yes—you will come to me, Mary Gray's son, Patrick Gray's grandson. To be one of my gentlemen. How say you?"

  Bewildered, John stared first at the Queen and then at his father.

  That man looked thoughtful. "This is kind, Anne—but requires thinking on," he said. "James might not like it."

  "James! James has eyes only for those odious Villiers! The King has not offered you any position at court, Sir John? Nor employment?"

  "No-o-o. Save this of Dumbarton Castle, Highness."

  "That is in Scotland, not London. So—all is well. I offer you position first—Gentleman-in-Waiting. You cannot refuse—it is the will of your Queen! You shall wait on me, Sir John Stewart, and we shall do most well."

  John looked uncertain.

  Ludovick proved himself to be something of an opportunist. "If that is Your Majesty's will and command, I am sure that my son will feel honoured. And will accompany you to the wedding tomorrow. It will be a good opportunity for him to commence his service."

  The Queen considered the Duke narrowly and then shrugged. "Very well," she acceded. "Sir John, you will attend me tomorrow, to Hampton Court. I shall, I think, not remain there long. Thereafter you will make your biding here at Somerset House, as one of my household. You understand?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, if doubtfully.

  They withdrew.

  On the way back westwards to Whitehall, the Duke sought to reassure his son—who suspected that he might have been sacrificed in order to get the Queen's agreement to attend this wedding. But his father said that this appointment to Anne's household might be an excellent development, not only giving John employment and added status but possibly would draw James's attention to his neglect, and produce some advantage in that quarter. He was amused that his son seemed to have this facility of making swift good impressions upon Queen as well as King. What was the secret of it?

  The younger man did not know, nor consider it much of an asset.

  So the next forenoon father and son embarked on one of the gaily-painted and canopied royal barges, at the Whitehall steps, manned by the King's liveried watermen, and were rowed in state down-river the mile or so to Somerset House again. Ludovick had decided to come along too, partly because that had been James's original command, but also in case Anne turned difficult and John could not cope. As a personal touch he hired four musicians, with lute and flute, to accompany them, and these practised their repertoire on their brief eastwards journey.

  They found Anne not resiling on her commitment but far from ready to go. Indeed the Stewarts were ushered, presumably on royal command, directly into the Queen's bedchamber, where they found her, in a state of undress, being prepared for the occasion by a twittering clutter of females and as yet undecided as to which gown she was going to wear—a situation which obviously held no embarrassment for Anne, who whatever else she was, was no prude, however much it disconcerted her new gentleman. Clearly they were not going to get away for some time, and the Duke grew a little anxious, which was not like him, for the wedding ceremony was due to start at one hour after noon. James, of course, might himself be late, as he so frequently was, having little regard for mere time—but on the other hand he might be early, in which case all would have to begin forthwith.

  The Queen, practically naked as to her top half, and no very delectable sight, demanded of all present which she should wear of fully a dozen splendid gowns laid out—which evidently she had been doing of her flock of ladies for some time previously—and the Duke, to save further debate, chose a heavily-jewelled confection in purple taffety, Anne being partial to jewels on a daunting scale. However, this was laughed to scorn as dowdy, ageing and quite inappropriate. Whereupon Anne pointed to John and declared that her new Gentleman-in-Waiting should choose.

  Appalled, the young man swallowed and gestured blindly to the nearest of all the dresses to himself, lying over a settle, a thing in pink and sewn pearls; where upon the Queen clapped her beringed hands delightedly, announced that it was quite the best choice, the youngest-looking gown there, and trust a young man to know what a woman should wear. Only, she might have difficulty in containing herself within it—this to fits of almost masculine laughter.

  Her ladies shook censorious but helpless heads.

  Anne insisting, she was pushed, pulled and constrained into this pink creation, amidst much royal gasping and indeed profanity. It did not take long for John to see what the Queen had meant by non-containment, for her large and sprawling bosom was alarmingly under-controlled and over-exposed, with any incautious movement liable to allow one side, or both, to bulge free.

  Anne, however, presently declared herself to be satisfied, and, donning sundry ropes of pearls and a furred robe for the journey, and a high hat rather similar to her husband's, conceded that she was ready for the river.

  And now a new problem delayed them. It seemed that fully a score of her ladies expected to accompany the Queen, and the royal barge just would not hold them all. There was a great to-do, and Ludovick eventually sent John to try to hire another boat locally. This proved to be quite difficult, for all who mattered in London appeared to be going to Hampton Court, and much the quickest way was by water. After considerable efforts and at some expense, he managed to engage a very indifferent wherry, sme
lling of fish, and manned by a ribald crew. Reaching Somerset House steps with this, he found the royal barge gone—it was, he supposed, unthinkable that the Queen should sit and wait for anyone so lowly. Instead he had about ten disgruntled females, those rejected for his father's boat, to escort to Hampton in a smelly rough craft oared by leering characters outspoken with their comments.

  It was an uncomfortable journey in every way.

  Amidst the ladies' complaints about the wretched boat, the uncouth crew, the stink and the effect on their fine clothes, one Scottish voice sounded. This belonged to a quite handsome young woman, auburn-haired, with a bold eye and a fine figure. She came and sat beside John in the stern and seemed less critical than most of her companions. She introduced herself as a Hamilton, Margaret, daughter of the late Sir Claud Hamilton of Shawfield, brother to the first Earl of Abercorn. Her father, who had died three years previously, had been a Gentleman of the King's Bedchamber; and, left alone, her uncle had procured for her the appointment of Extra Maid-in-Waiting to the Queen. She seemed a lively and quite attractive young woman.

  It was a dozen miles by river to Hampton Court and the boatmen were in no hurry, so that the journey seemed interminable and John was glad enough of the Hamilton girl's chatter, which at least passed the time and helped to insulate him from the older women's censure—for they seemed to blame him for current disappointments. Margaret, who appeared to know everybody who was anybody in London, was able to identify most of the well-dressed occupants of the innumerable other boats which passed them—and the fact that they did pass them only added to the general complaint.

  At last they came to the great palace, in its magnificent gardens, which Cardinal Wolsey had built for himself and then presented to Henry the Eighth—who had later condemned him to death. Even here there was delay and frustration, with long queues of river-craft awaiting to disembark, the major portion of the landing-area being railed off for the arrival of the King's barge, James not yet having put in an appearance, although fully an hour late.

  In consequence much concern and upset prevailed at the palace, with the Queen insulted, Steenie's and the bridegroom's mother, the Lady Compton, a masterful woman, in major offence, the bride's father, Sir Edward Coke, gobbling like a turkey and the groom already the worse for liquor. Ludovick was seeking to pour oil on troubled waters, with only limited success. Of the bride there was no sign.

  Fortunately the royal barge, all banners and gold-tasselled awnings, surrounded by a positive flotilla of escorts including two boatloads of musicians and singers, and another with two Muscovy bears for baiting and a fourth full of dogs, arrived soon thereafter, and the nuptials could approximately proceed. Only a very small proportion of the crowd could get inside the palace chapel, of course, and John for one did not try. He went exploring the vast building, the largest that he had ever seen, and was much impressed by this at least. The furnishings, the eastern carpets, the tapestries, the paintings and statuary, were an eye-opener indeed as to what an acquisitive Prince of Holy Church had been able to accumulate.

  The wedding ceremony itself must have been very brief, for a great noise drew John back sooner than he expected to the main state apartments, where the King and Queen and bridal party were now congregated in high-spirited din. Conceiving that it might possibly be expected of him, in his new capacity of Gentleman-in-Waiting to the Queen, he made his way through the throng to a position not far from Anne's side, arousing some hostile reaction in the process. He was scarcely where he sought to be when chaos was let loose in that banqueting-hall—or, more accurately, it was the two bears which were let loose by Steenie Villiers and some of his youthful relatives, as some sort of prank, and the chaos resulted. There was a great scramble to get out of the vicinity of the lumbering animals, amidst much jostling and shouting, women screaming and John getting his first sight of the bride, a pale and anaemic-seeming creature of no more than sixteen years, as she was hoisted up on to a table-top amongst the viands and flagons, where other ladies joined her, including even her new mother-in-law, yelling shrilly as any fish-wife, at her sons.

  John got himself to the Queen's side in case she required help. But the sea-king's daughter was not to be frightened by any pair of semi-tame Muscovy bears and, although looking disapproving, stood her ground. She acknowledged John's attendance with a nod but was clearly concerned with what was going on nearby.

  A slight and thin young man, with rather soulful eyes above a petulant mouth, gorgeously clad in gold satin, was berating the Earl of Buckingham for this escapade, declaring it to be unsuitable and unseemly immediately after holy worship and divine service. He should be ashamed of himself, putting the bride in fear and his own mother likewise. And so on, Steenie scowling but not replying.

  The objector did get his answer, however, for King James, who had been standing behind and listening, and watching with sardonic eye, suddenly stepped forward and cuffed the thin young man over the ear, and in no playful fashion.

  There was an appalled silence in the immediate circle, broken by the Queen's cry of outrage. In her anger she burst forth in Danish but quickly changed to her own brand of Scots-English.

  "How do you dare to do that, James Stewart!" she demanded. "Strike Charles! Strike my son—the Prince of Wales! How do you dare! And for this, this upstart!"

  "Och, I dare fine, Annie—fine! I'm the King, mind—as well as the laddie's faither. I'll dae mair'n that, if need be. If this son o' your's—and mine, is he no'?—clacks his tongue in my presence, he'll do so to my liking! You hear that, Charlie Stewart?"

  The prince inclined his head, lips tight.. But his mother was less easily silenced.

  "You insuh my son, you insult me, the Queen! It is not to be carried, no. I will leave this place, and all these your creatures ..."

  "Na, na—you'll no', Annie. You'll bide. And that's my royal command, see you. Aye, and you'll cover yoursel' better, woman; you're no' decent, for guidsakes!"

  Anne drew a gulping breath—thereby exposing still more of her frontal development—but she did grab a silken shawl from one of her ladies, to wrap tightly around her.

  John glanced guiltily over at his father, standing beside the King. He felt some slight responsibility for having chosen that gown.

  James nodded, and turned to Buckingham. "Steenie— best you get yon critturs out o' here. You've had a sufficiency o' sport for this present. Vicky—hae these women doon off the tables—it's no' seemly. And hae nae mair skirling and yowling. We'll now eat—if we can win room on the boards for female bodies! Aye." And he tapped his hat more firmly on his head and moved round to his throne-like chair at the top table, all put to rights.

  Perhaps it was as well that there had been this encounter between King, Queen and Prince, since it ensured that one of the principal problems as to seating for once did not arise. Always the matter of precedence tended to be a headache, and the Master of the Household had the unenviable task of sorting it out, never to everyone's satisfaction. This being a wedding, the matter was complicated by the claims of the principals and the bridal families. The Queen and the Prince of Wales, of course, were normally entitled to pride-of-place, even though James frequently decided otherwise. But today these two chose ostentatiously to distance themselves as far as possible from husband and father, without leaving the top table. Which was a major easement. James did not like Sir Edward Coke, the bride's father, nor Lady Compton, the bridegroom's mother—indeed he found most women unprofitable table-companions being good neither for drinking nor erudite conversation, in his opinion. He did not think much of the bridegroom either, but for the look of things put him on his right, with Steenie on his left. But there was the Archbishop of Canterbury, to make matters difficult; he would go on the other side of John Villiers, with Coke. The rest could fight it out between themselves and the Master of the Household.

  This they did, with considerable argument and protest. Ludovick's services as ducal arbiter and peacemaker were much in demand. James ignore
d all, and began to sample the wines.

  John Stewart had found himself a suitably modest place well down the hall where there was no competition, when the young woman Margaret Hamilton appeared at his side to say that the Queen required his presence up beside her at the top table.

  Reluctantly he rose. He could have done without this.

  He imagined that all eyes were on him as he followed the young woman up to where Anne sat with Prince Charles at one extreme end of the table. The Queen smiled on him graciously and pointed to the crosswise extremity, where presumably he was to sit. He beckoned one of the servitors to fetch him a chair, and sat, feeling very conspicuous. He had no doubt that this was not being done out of any affection or esteem for himself but merely to let the King see that the Queen had taken him over. Charles could not have looked less interested.

  The Archbishop said grace-before-meat, at considerable length, seeking God's blessing on the happy couple in the by-going; James, who had started beforehand, continuing to eat and drink throughout. Thereafter the banquet proceeded, accompanied in the central space of the hall by jugglers, acrobats, dancers and music.

  John had ample opportunity to survey the scene and consider his fellow-guests at this the first major function he had attended in England—for, having got him up to this prominent position, the Queen saw no need to converse with him; and, seated at the table-end, no one else was within reasonable speaking-distance save the Prince of Wales, who sulked. The bride and bridegroom he judged, perhaps unkindly, could be dismissed as nonentities, their only significance being that they were Villiers. Lady Compton, formerly Lady Villiers, was a small, waspish, determined-looking woman, notorious for her anxiety to screw the utmost advantage out of the King's infatuation with her second son, trying hard to have herself appointed, retrospectively as it were, Countess of Buckingham, suggesting that Steenie might well become a duke, and angling at least for a peerage for her new husband, the amiable and inoffensive Sir Thomas Compton. Ludovick said that James loathed her but believed that he could make use of her drive and ambition.