Unicorn Rampant

by Nigel Tranter

  Sir Edward Coke, now large and gross, was also ambitious and had achieved much. An able lawyer, he had been one of the late Queen Elizabeth's bright young men and had been Attorney-General when James succeeded. He had risen to be Lord Chief Justice but the King never got on with him and he still awaited the peerage which normally would have come his way before this. No doubt he hoped this marriage-link with the rising star of Villiers would improve his fortunes.

  Beyond the Archbishop was a darkly handsome man, all in black and gold, whom John knew to be Diego, Count Gondomar, the Spanish Ambassador, said to have an unsuitable influence on James, with whom he discussed diablery and witchcraft, astrology, mythology and the like. Gondomar was angling for a Spanish alliance—which would hopefully stop the English privateers' continuing attacks on Spanish treasure-ships from the Indies—and of course was much concerned over the outcome of Sir Walter Ralegh's venture. If Ralegh failed, all said that Gondomar would have his head.

  At the far opposite end of the table was a splendidly-dressed and confident-seeming group which John assumed to be the Howards—at least he recognised one as Thomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, Lord Treasurer and acting Earl Marshal. These had with them a most eye-catching figure, a glorious youth, clad all in pale blue satin, quite the most beautiful male John for one had ever set eyes on. He noticed that the King not infrequently looked in that direction—as indeed did Steenie. For that matter, John was equally aware that James occasionally cast his eye thoughtfully in his own direction.

  Presently however the monarch seemed to remember that this was a wedding-feast, tapped his hat more firmly on his head and flapped a hand at the Master of the Household, who in turn waved to his trumpeter who sounded a brief fanfare. Silence achieved, the King, still lounging back in his seat, scratched his wispy beard and nodded portentously.

  "Aye," he said, thickly but conversationally, "we've had a marriage this day, a right auspicious occasion, representative of a deal mair than this bit laddie and lassie you see before you—and who maybe do not look fell auspicious!" And he glanced from the owlish-looking bridegroom at his side, seeking to find the shrinking bride. "These twa are but symbols, this day, o' a much greater signification in marriage—aye, and maybe shilpit symbols, you'll jalouse? But, och—non omnia possumus omnes!"

  James always waited hopefully for appreciative reaction to his Latin asides, however seldom he got it.

  He sighed and went on, "Aye, well—marriage, holy matrimony, between a man and a woman, represents first and foremaist the union between Christ-God and His Church. And, secondly, the union between an anointed monarch and his people. These are baith sacramental relationships, mind—and let nane forget it! do not!" That last was accompanied by a glower round the great company, as though in warning, lingering it seemed especially on Queen Anne and then on the Howards.

  "As Christ's Vice-Regent on this pairt o' God's earth, and sovereign-lord o' this realm, I am consairned that these twa aspects o' holy matrimony shouldna be owerlooked on sik-like an occasion as this, lost sight o' in wedding and bedding and haughmagandie—forby, whether these ensamples o' wedded bliss this day will be fit for much o' that last, I hae my doubts! The Church was committed to my keeping by Almighty God at my coronation, and I'll see to it that she isna set aside, imposed upon or robbed, aye robbed, by any. Let a' tak tent! The guid Archbishop here may rest assured, never fear."

  A pause, as the gathering listened enthralled, all knowing of current moves by the Howards, the greatest Catholic family, to win back by legal process some of the lands taken from them at the Reformation and handed over to the new Church of England.

  "Aye, and as husband o' my people, it likewise behoves me to look to the common weal and see that there's nae diskindness and exploitation o' my folk, as I hear tell of in certain parts and offices. Even in the realm's Treasury itsel', I'm told!"

  All eyes were again on the Howards, with Suffolk Lord Treasurer.

  Having thus given the clearest public indication yet of his attitude towards the mightiest family in England, James changed his tone somewhat. "Mind," he went on, "marriage can be a right lottery—we a' ken that, even the Lord's Anointed!" And he chuckled, gesturing amiably towards the Queen. "It's a fell kittle affair at times, and nae mistake! But we maun warstle through, aye recollecting that the husband is head o' the wife, just as Christ is head o' the Church and the King is head o' the people. If we mind that, we'll no' go far wrang! Eh, Annie?"

  The Queen, shocked and flustered, half-rose in her chair, gasping for words. But James flapped her back.

  "Na, na, bide your time, woman. I'm no' finished yet."

  He turned towards the bridegroom. "You, Johnnie Villiers— a bit word on this your wedding-day. You dinna seem to me to be like to make one o' the props and stays o' my kingdom, just! But maybe there's mair to you than strikes the eye, since you're ain brother to my Steenie, Earl o' Buckingham, who has his pairts—ooh, aye, he has his pairts! Sae, maybe yoursel' also. I'm hoping so, leastways, for I can use some stout props and stays in this realm o' England, that will serve me honestly wi' mair consairn than just to fill their ain pouches! Sae I've hopes for you, John Villiers, for your brother's sake. Aye, and in token o' my hopes, I hereby name, appoint and create you Lord Viscount o' Purbeck. An act o' faith, as you might say! My wedding-gift to you and your lassie."

  John Villiers was by now too far gone in liquor to do more than goggle at his sovereign-lord. But James appeared not to notice any lack of appreciation from the new viscount, for his glance was wholly on Sir Edward Coke beyond, a leering glance, almost triumphal.

  The former Lord Chief Justice's highly-coloured and bejowled face was indeed a study. Here was the peerage, which he himself had sought for so long, and surely earned, conferred as though by a mere whim on this whipper-snapper, who had done nothing to deserve it, nor likely ever would. He, a mere knight, had now to call his son-in-law my lord, his daughter a viscountess.

  John, for one, was sorry for Coke. He had no doubt that the King had done this deliberately to humiliate him rather than to honour Villiers. The banqueting-hall buzzed like a beehive disturbed.

  Since James appeared to have finished, the Queen arose, not to speak but to sweep off towards the door, leaving her ladies in twittering uncertainty behind her. As she passed John she signed peremptorily for him to follow her. The Prince of Wales sat still.

  John unhappily rose, bowed towards the King, and hurried after the Queen.

  He had almost reached the door when a hand gripped his arm. He turned, to find the Master of the Household at his elbow.

  "Sir John," that dignitary said stiffly. "It is not permitted that any leave the royal presence without the King's express permission."

  "But. . . the Queen . . ."

  "The Queen may do as she thinks fit, sir. But you are the King's subject, before the Queen's."

  Looking after Anne's disappearing person, John shrugged and turned back.

  At least he did not have to face the battery of all eyes, as he feared, for attention was now concentrated on what was happening up at the top table. The Howard group, or at least the men thereof, had risen from their places and moved up to stand around the King, and with them the beautiful youth in blue. Suffolk was doing the talking, clearly presenting the young man to the monarch, who was eyeing him up and down critically. Steenie was looking on, his eyes like daggers.

  Resuming his seat more or less unnoticed, John was near enough to hear most of what was said in the King's vicinity.

  "... most able and of excellent wits," the Lord Treasurer was saying. "Good on a horse and a notable dancer. Your Majesty will find him well endowed in every way."

  "Is that a fact?" James said. "You're no' for selling me a blood horse, nor yet a trained chase-hound, are you, Suffolk?"

  "Indeed no, Sire. This is a most noble youth, William Monson by name, who should add lustre and relish to your court. He comes from a good family. His uncle indeed is a servant of Your Majesty's own, Sir Th
omas Monson, Master of the Armoury in the Tower ..."

  "Aye, well, my Lord Treasurer," the King interrupted, "wherever he comes frae, you can tak him back there again!"

  "But. . . Sire ...!'

  "Nae buts, my lord! You've misjudged in this, you Howards. Aye, and no' for the first time. You misjudge me, man, in this as in much else. And that isna wise, mind."

  Even the Howard confidence was wilting. Suffolk looked strained and the ageing Earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral, stammered something incoherent.

  James nodded. "Sae, if you hae any commission wi' this young man, I'd advise him, right perfumacious as he smells, to forbear his company in my royal presence hereafter. You have it, my lords? Guid—then you hae my permission to retire frae this place, all o' you. And tak the limmer wi' you!

  Scarcely believing their ears, the princely Howards stared. But if they were in any doubt that James was serious, his flapping hand shooing them away as though they had been barnyard poultry, convinced them. In much confusion, bowing, they backed away, to collect their womenfolk and make for the nearest door, whilst the great company looked on in astonishment.

  Thereafter the entertainers proceeded with their acts, but James was restless now and presently rose, and of course so must everybody else. The jugglers stopped juggling abruptly, and, as the King made a shambling exit, the Master of the Household hurriedly announced that the bear-baiting would take place outside.

  John found his way to his father's side, in some anxiety as to what was now expected of him. Was he due for reprimand from the King, or was he to follow the Queen, as she had commanded? Ludovick sympathised with his son in becoming involved in a tug-of-war between James and Anne, but advised him not to distress himself unduly. The King would probably forget the incident and the Queen would hear that he had been summoned back. His counsel would be to go now to Anne, and keep out of James's sight meantime. He himself would have a word with their lord, in due course.

  So John went in search of the Queen—only to discover that she was gone from Hampton Court already. In high dudgeon she had swept down to the riverside, alone apparently, and commanded the royal barge which had brought her and the Duke to take her back to Somerset House there and then, waiting for none.

  Whilst John was digesting this information and wondering what to do now, the young woman Margaret Hamilton descended upon him. The Queen's ladies, she asserted, were urgent to be after their royal mistress, and looked to him to transport them. He protested that he could not be held reponsible for what had happened or for getting them all back to Somerset House, but the girl assured him that these were the orders of the Countess of Arundel, principal Lady-in-Waiting, and was he not now in the Queen's service?

  The wherry which had brought them there was waiting, amongst all the other boats, to be hired for a return journey; but, since it had scarcely been a success coming, he thought to effect some improvement for the journey back. However, ask as he would amongst the watermen, all were already engaged to carry back those they had brought, or at any rate not prepared to abandon probably richer pickings later. He toyed with the idea of seeking the King's permission to use one of the royal barges, but decided to keep his distance from James meantime. So he had to fall back on the fishy-smelling wherry, anticipating the comments which would be forthcoming from his passengers.

  He had not over-estimated the offence. When they all came flocking down in loud-voiced complaint at everything, the Howard Countess of Arundel very much in command, deploring the wedding arrangements, the King's behaviour, the insult to the Howards and so on, the sight of their transport drew wails from the previous passengers and haughty protest from the more senior ladies—for now, of course, John had the Duke's boatload to take back as well. So the wherry was grossly over-laden, to add to the rest, with the boatmen demanding extra payment. But, with no alternatives evident, everybody eventually piled in, and the return journey commenced.

  By the time that they reached Somerset House, John realised something of what being Gentleman-in-Waiting to the Queen meant. Whether it was better than having nothing to do at Whitehall was a matter for debate.

  Finding that Anne had taken to her bed declaring that she was ill, and that no arrangements seemed to have been made for his accommodation at Somerset House, he was glad enough to slip away thereafter and back to his father's quarters at Whitehall Palace. Sufficient unto the day . . .

  8

  Next morning John was in something of a quandary. The wedding over, King James decided to go to Theobalds Park in Hertfordshire, his favourite resort, where the hunting was excellent, and most of the court would go with him— but not the Queen, who would remain in London. What was John to do, he asked his father?

  The Duke advised a quiet departure for Somerset House. If the Queen had no quarters for him there, he could continue to use the Lennox rooms at Whitehall. If, of course, she had changed her mind about the gentleman-in-waiting appointment, he should just come on to Theobalds. Ludovick always made life sound easy and simple.

  John was very doubtful as to which eventuality he would prefer—indeed wished that he was back in Scotland. However, the matter was resolved for him almost immediately, for a summons came for him to attend on the monarch forthwith.

  He found James in a gallery of the palace superintending in person the extension and deepening of a wall-chamber, with masons and carpenters busy excavating and hammering—or would have been busy had the King not been so assiduous in interrupting them with new instructions, alterations and improvements. To his much relief, John was welcomed almost with enthusiasm, James explaining what was being done, in some detail, how the mural-chamber was a mere garderobe which was to be extended right through to the walling and panelling of the room behind. When John looked mystified over the point of this, the monarch drew him aside and in a stage-whisper revealed that the apartment beyond, with the panelling, was an anteroom to his audience-chamber, where petitioners, suppliants and litigants waited until he was ready to hear their pleas and requests. It would be a right convenience, he pointed out, to know what they were saying privately beforehand, with their advisers and lawyers; so he would have some small little holes bored in the panelling at eye-and ear-level, to enable him to see and hear what went on, if he came round into this bit closet. The workmen were not to know about this, of course.

  Much impressed by his sovereign-lord's perspicacity, John made appreciative noises. But if he imagined that such considerations wholly preoccupied the royal mind, he was disillusioned. James turned abruptly and poked him in the middle with a jabbing finger.

  "Now, my mannie—what's this you've been at wi' the Queen, eh?" he demanded. "For why hae you attached yoursel' to my Annie? Yesterday you marched oot o' my royal presence without leave nor allow. Yon's no' permitted and you must have kent it."

  "But, Sire, the Queen summoned me. I had to go. I could not disobey the Queen's Majesty."

  "Could you no', then, Johnnie Stewart? And what o' the King's Majesty? Whose subject are you—Annie o' Denmark's or your sovereign-lord's?"

  "Yours, to be sure, Sire. But the Queen has appointed me her Gentleman-in-Waiting and ..."

  "Ooh, aye—Gentleman-in-Waiting. Man, that sounds grand, grand! But she was a wee thing late, was she no'? Were you no' my gentleman first? Who brought you to this London, eh?"

  "You did, Highness. But there seemed to be nothing for me here, nothing for me to do. The Queen said that she required me . . ."

  "Impatient, eh? Impatience can be a sin, mind. I'm disappointed in you, Sir John. It wasna well done."

  The young man bowed his head, tight-lipped.

  "Aye, well—I'll gie you a chance to redeem yoursel', lad—even if you dinna just deserve it. I'm off to Tibbalds. But you'll bide here. You'll go and discover for me certain matters, fell important matters. About these monopolies, as they ca' them. Like the paper and the salt we considered at Edinburgh. That's what I brought you to London for, mind. See you, the monopolies here in this
England are no' sae well contrived as in Scotland. I didna get my due and proper share. So you've to put that to rights, Sir John Stewart. Thae Howards are getting ower much that should be mine. They've got their long fingers in every pie! But it's gey hard to get at the figures, the details. You are to go discover them for me. Mak lists. Goods. Names. Moneys. I want to ken it all. Then I withdraw the monopolies and issue new ones. Wi' right and proper shares frr me. Somehow I maun keep this ship o' state afloat, wi' yon parliament no' voting me the siller."

  John stared. "But how am I to do this, Sire? I know nothing of it all. Where do I start? Surely some of your clerks here, your officers who know the English and their ways, would better serve . . . ?"

  "Know, perhaps—but are known themsel's! I choose you because you are not known, man. You can learn much. A Scot concerned wi' trade. You will be that. And I can trust you—can I no'? Sae many others are in the pockets o' the Howards and their like. You're no'. Use your wits, laddie."

  He wagged his head. "Where do I begin, Sire? Knowing nothing of all this?"

  "Begin wi' the man Mansell. Robert Mansell. He's held the glass-making monopoly for years. The woman Elizabeth gave it to him lang syne. Through the Howards. She didna ken how to use siller, that one. She was a' for glory, was Gloriana, wi' nae money-sense. Did you ken that she left me wi' £400,000 o' debts? Guidsakes, think on that! Aye, well—begin wi' Mansell and the glass. And there's William Cockayne and thae Merchant Venturers, as they ca' themsel's. They hae the monopoly o' the export o' woven cloths, for dyeing in the Netherlands. Look you into that. I was to get £300,000 frae them—and I havena' had a tenth o' it. Cockayne's the man. He keeps the Howards in siller, I swear! There's others—ships' ropes and cordage. Aye, and canvas—right lucrative. The import o' whales' oil, skins frae Muscovy and plenties more. Start wi' Mansell and Cockayne. And watch out for the Lord Treasurer's men, the Howards, laddie. You watch!"