Unicorn Rampant

by Nigel Tranter

  "I understand, my lords, that you choose to support a malefactor and notorious character who held the King's castle unlawfully against the King's Governor, rather than support the said King's Governor. No doubt for your own reasons. His Majesty will be interested to hear of this, surely."

  "Your attitude confirms our belief that you are an unsuitable person to be Governor of Dumbarton," Dunfermline went on heavily. "We accept that Middlemas behaved wrongfully in holding the castle against you, and that such action justified his dismissal. But that does not invalidate the money arrangement. As to your treatment of the prisoners just interviewed, we find it lacking in due judgment and a further indication of your unsuitability for the position you presently hold. We will communicate such findings to His Majesty. That is all, Sir John. You may retire."

  Without a word, John swung on his heel and left them.

  Within a couple of hours he had said goodbye to Sandy and was on his way southwards at last. He felt that it was quite important that he reached Whitehall before the Privy Council's courier. Also, he could do with working off his feelings and frustrations in hard riding.

  Exactly a week later, in the vicinity of Huntingdon, John learned that Sir Walter Ralegh had been beheaded three days earlier and that mobs were rampaging in London streets miscalling the King and all his works

  15

  Knowing his sovereign-lord and guessing that if there was trouble in London, James would not linger at Whitehall, John made a slight diversion by Enfield and, sure enough, found the court at Theobalds again, and in no carefree state. The King was not only uneasy in his mind of the effects on the nation of the execution of Ralegh, but in trouble with the English bishops, of all people—this over his plans to marry Charles to the Infanta of Spain, and the Church's fears that this would inevitably lead to an increase of Catholic influence in England, the more alarming to them in that the Queen, who still lingered on although ever weakening, was now trafficking with Catholic priests and confessors and had even refused to see the Archbishop of Canterbury; so that Charles, who ever took his cue from his mother rather than his father, might well be affected with the poison of Catholicism already, before any Spanish match. Moreover, the King was suffering from gout—and when James suffered, all suffered.

  John had all this unloaded upon him by his father whenever he arrived—and rather got the impression that the ducal eloquence might be partly spurred on by a reluctance to get to grips with the subject of Dumbarton and Middlemas. However, his son was learning in a hard school and was not to be sidetracked.

  "Why did you not warn me about Middlemas and your agreement to pay him all that money?" he cut in, presently, on his sire's catalogue of woes.

  "Ah, yes—Middlemas. That man was ever a trial," Ludovick conceded. "I had rather forgotten him—and been glad to, you understand, John. It was all a long time ago . . ."

  "You mean that you were glad to put off the responsibility of dealing with him on to me! That is why you gave me the Dumbarton governorship?"

  "No, no, lad. You required a position at court, to give you some standing. Also, I had not been able to deal with Dumbarton properly, for long. That was why so much was left to Middlemas. I thought that your fresh hand on the tiller..."

  "But you did not tell me of this hold Middlemas had on you. Of 3,000 merks. That is £2,000, a deal of money, more money than I have ever possessed! Why, Father—why?"

  Ludovick looked uncomfortable and took refuge in vagueness. "It was an old story. Foolish, no doubt. I was not . . . proud of it. And it might well never have come to anything. There was no point in bringing it up unless Middlemas did. And he had not mentioned it. .."

  "Only four or five years. You ought to have told me."

  "Perhaps. But I did not know that you would go at it like a bull at a gate, Johnnie—dismissing the man almost as soon as you saw him!"

  "He was misbehaving shamefully. I told you. I could not leave him there. And clearly he had been misbehaving for long. You must have known it."

  The Duke spread his hands. "Underlings often do misbehave, John. You will learn that. Many of the King's servants misbehave, in one way or another, I know well. And so does James. One cannot watch them all the time. I, for one, have so many offices to fill."

  "Why did you sign that paper, Father, committing yourself to pay so much money? There must have been a reason."

  "I. .. ah . . . did it without due thought, I fear. A mistake, I see now. Middlemas was very pressing. He was doing all the work, relieving me of much trouble and concern. It seemed but fair that he should have some security."

  "My mother thinks that Middlemas probably had some hold over you. That you perhaps had been doing something, well, mistaken. It may be—taking more of the moneys collected than was your due share? And Middlemas knew of it and forced this on you, lest he tell the Treasury? And this, of course, gave the man himself a clear run to misbehave on his own! Was that it?"

  Ludovick wagged his head. "Mary thinks that, does she? I am . . . sorry."

  "You do not deny it, then?"

  "Nor do I admit it, lad. I do not need to deny or admit anything, to you or other. I have had many responsibilities thrust upon me since I came to England with James—and must make the wherewithal to carry them out as best I can. For James certainly will not see to it. You must have discovered that, by now, in your own dealings with him. In this of the paper monopoly, for instance, with Cockayne and the Dutchman and the rest—are your hands entirely clean? Aye, and in the matter of the Queen's jewels! James demands service—but leaves the servants to pay for it how they may. It is time that you learned that."

  "I cannot pay £2,000. Without defrauding the tax-collection. And that I will not do."

  "Do not be over righteous, lad."

  "It is scarce a matter of righteousness. The Mars want me out of Dumbarton, Lord Erskine in especial. You did not tell me, either, how close linked he was to Madderty and the Drummonds. He thinks that Dumbarton should be his. They will be watching me now, like hawks. So even if I did seek to take overmuch from the taxation and customs, the Treasury would have me."

  "Unless the Treasury was . . . accommodated!"

  John nodded. "So that is it! I wondered whether it would come to that. You did that—and now it is not being continued? And I am in trouble."

  "Scarcely trouble, Johnnie—a mere matter of adjustment! Trouble is something a great deal greater, I can assure you. One learns to give and take, trim one's sails to the winds that blow—or the ship capsizes! I am Lord High Admiral of Scotland, so I ought to know! I have had to do that all my life. I do not expect that yon, lad, are the one exception to the rule."

  It was John's turn to shake his head. Looking at his illustrious father, he perceived, as never quite before, that the only duke in two kingdoms, the Lord High Admiral, the Master of the Horse and all the rest, was in fact, however pleasant a man and good company, weak, weaker than himself, his illegitimate son. Perhaps he was indeed more Mary Gray's son than Ludovick Stewart's? In that moment he was almost sorry for this father of his, knew a sympathy— and asked himself whether he perhaps might suffer in some degree from self-righteousness, as hinted? He sighed and shrugged.

  "I think that I would give up this governorship of Dumbarton here and now—were it not that that would seem like handing all over to the Erskines and Drummonds," he said.

  "That is the right spirit, boy! You will make do, well enough, believe me. I will help. See you, as to this money, I will be in a position to pay it off soon. In a year, say. Meantime, you keep Middlemas quiet by paying him a good interest on it. Say one merk in ten—three hundred merks. He will not refuse that, I swear! I can help you find that—if you will not pay it out of the taxation."

  "M'mm. Where is this access of riches to come from, Father? In a year?"

  "It is a secret, as yet, lad. So let it go no further. But James has decided that I must remarry. Although he is dead set on this Spanish marriage, that is for the dowry moneys. He is
convinced that Charles is unlikely to ever have a son, and

  there is no nearer heir for the succession than myself. He has chosen a rich widow for me! The second-richest in the kingdom, they do say—not the richest, who is for Steenie!

  So I am to wed the Countess of Hertford, Frances Howard.

  This will also help to drive a wedge between the Howards, our master thinks! The lady has already borne two sons, so she is sufficiently fertile! And she is renownedly . . . generous!"

  John stared. "And, and you agree to this? To marry again? And to little more than a stranger. When my mother looks on you as her husband!"

  "John—we have been over all this before. You know that Mary will not marry me—never would. And, if she did, James would not permit it. This third marriage will make no difference between your mother and me—the others have not. Whether I will produce an heir on this female, God alone knows! But my money problems should be at an end, at least. And that is not unimportant. We cannot all marry for heartfelt love—as I think you will discover soon enough!" John was silent.

  "Now—tell me about your Privy Councillors. Alexander Seton, the Chancellor, is my friend. He would not be happy in this business, I think?"

  "No, he did not seem so. But Erskine made the running. His father, the Earl of Mar, was not there, either rime. But I felt that he was behind it all, the Lord Treasurer." He paused. "Tell me—how much does a farmer of taxes and customs keep to himself, and how much send to the Treasury?"

  "I told you before, it can vary. But four in every ten is usual. This can be bettered, on occasion! Especially with such as Dumbarton Castle to maintain."

  "As much as that! Then . . . ?"

  "Yes—you see what Dumbarton could be worth to you, properly handled? Have you not been taking the money? You are making the collections?"

  "Yes. But have held back, meantime. No word has come from the Treasury. Middlemas left nothing, no guidance ..."

  "Then tell young Graham to send six in ten of all that he has taken to Murray—Sir Gideon Murray, mind you—not Mar. I'd name him middling honest. But to bargain for costs at the castle. You will learn how this game must be played . . .!"

  John had his interview with the King the following day, summoned not to the bedchamber on this occasion but to one of the stables, where a favourite mare was in process of foaling, and James was concerned to watch the event. Present, as well as the grooms and stableboys, were two of the King's physicians and an olive-skinned, hook-nosed elegant whom John had seen before but never spoken to, the Count Gondomar, ambassador of His Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, nowadays James's constant companion— so much so that it was said that Steenie was becoming distinctly jealous.

  "Aye, Johnnie Stewart—it's yoursel', then? Come and see my Esmeralda giving birth—an exercitation which should consaim you mair than some, heh?" Apart from some slight emphasis on that you, the greeting was as though John had not been away for more than hours. The King and Gondomar were sitting on bundles of straw on the stable-floor only a yard or two from the puffing and heaving mare.

  "Your Majesty—I hope that you are improved in health? I heard that you were poorly."

  "Ooh, aye—I'm in sair pain. But no' deid yet, in despite o' what some folk would wish! You ken Don Diego? He's frae Spain, and right knowledgeable about some matters— but no' all, mind, no' all! Nec scire fas est Omnia! He's never delivered a foal, see you—is that no' extraordinary? Now, you will ken all about it, eh?"

  "I have delivered many, Sire."

  "Aye—but dinna sound sae gleg-sure! There's a fell lot you dinna ken, as I've been hearing!" He turned. "This, Diego, is a sort o' a misbegotten, far-oot kinsman o' mine, Sir John Stewart o' Methven. Aye, misbegotten—for he's Vicky Stewart's bastard." And, without a change of tone, Majesty went on, "You've been awa' frae our royal presence, lacking oor royal permission, for a gey long time, Johnnie Stewart! We are right displeased wi' you. Months, aye months. You hae forfeited oor royal regard!"

  "But, Sire . . .!" John protested, and recollected that the King did not appreciate buts. "It was no fault of mine, Sire. The Privy Council—Your Majesty's Scots Privy Council, commanded me to stay. Ordered me to attend two hearings, over six weeks apart. I could not come back to London in time and then return there. Did Sir William Alexander, or my father, not tell you?"

  "I am no' here to be told but to be obeyed, man—mind that. You seem to hae preferred to obey yon Alicky Seton!"

  "Sire—I had to assume that the Privy Council spoke in your royal name, in Scotland. I could not disobey my lord Dunfermline, the Chancellor. I did not want to stay."

  James turned a padded shoulder on John. "How long now?" he demanded of the physicians.

  They shook uncertain but distinctly disapproving heads. "We are not conversant with horses' labours, Highness," one declared.

  "Then you ought to be. A mare is one o' God's creatures, is she no'? As much as any woman. Aye, and this Esmeralda's been mair use to me than a wheen women I ken!" James went forward on his knees, despite his gout, pushed aside the stableman who crouched there near the mare's rump, and, pulling up his padded sleeve, lifted the long tail and thrust his hand and arm up inside the animal's rear, feeling around and nodding with every sign of satisfaction. Withdrawing, he wiped off the blood and other smearing on his slashed but already stained trunks. "Coming along fine," he announced. "I could grip the hooves. It winna be long now. You, Don Diego—put your hand up and feel."

  Appalled, the Spaniard drew back, shaking his head. "No, no, Majesty—I pray you, no! Not I."

  "Come, man—it'll no' bite you! Be no' so nice."

  "I beg of you, my lord King ..."

  "Och, weel—I'd gie her ten minutes or so, yet." Pulling down his sleeve, James turned back to John. "The paper? All is weel wi' the paper?"

  "Yes, Sire. No difficulties there. Has the first shipment not arrived?"

  "Aye—Will Alexander is seeing to that. You'll hae to go see yon Cockayne man, and fix a price wi' him—a guid price, mind. For I jalouse he'll be fair desperate to lay hands on that paper. For parliament's just passed Frankie Bacon's measure banning a' monopolies in England, and Cockayne and his like are like to hae their feet ca'd frae under them. Mind, thae skellums will find a way round it, in time, I've nae doubt. But meantime they'll be in a fair tizzie. They'll be glad to pay whatever price we ask, for oor Scots paper. It's as weel my Scots parliament doesna consaim itsel' wi' siklike matters, eh? Save for matters o' religion, mind. In that, they're the spawn o' Satan!"

  "Yes, Sire." John wondered if this would be a good opportunity to get back to Dumbarton and the Privy Council. "On the subject of religion, Your Majesty, while I was awaiting the second hearing of the Council they sent me two parish ministers to hold at Dumbarton—at least, I take it that it was the Lord Erskine who sent them, for they came from Stirling Castle. A strange business. They stand accused of disobeying their bishop, I understand . . ."

  "Stiff-necked miscreants!" James declared. "Contumacious—maist contumacious."

  "No doubt, Sire—but still ministers of religion. I had also no doubt that Your Majesty would not wish them to be maltreated nor used like common felons. I held them secure, but used them honestly, not harshly, even discussing and reasoning with them, as befitted ordained clergy and men of education. Did I do wrong? Now I am accused by the Council of treating them too kindly!"

  "You tell me that?" The King tapped Gondomar's arm. "This mare is fourteen years, mind. An auld friend."

  "No doubt if I had treated the ministers harshly there would also have been complaint, Sire. For complaint was determined on—that I am sure. There was no need to send the prisoners to Dumbarton for that short time. They had been at Stirling and went back there."

  "Is that a fact? Would you say that with age and practice, aye practice, a mare foals easier, or the reverse, man? Is age an impediment and coarctation, or no'? I'm told some women slip a tenth bairn as easy as you'd pod a pea!"

  "I do not know, Sire
. Fourteen years is not too old. I have foaled mares older than that. But—this of Dumbarton. I am convinced that certain people want me out of that castle. And will do much to get me out. For reasons of which I am not certain. Possibly to do with the tax collection ..."

  "Aye, weel—maybe so. But, see you Johnnie Stewart, that is your consairn. I didna mak you Keeper there to hae to fret about it my ain sel'. I've plenties on my ain mind, without the likes o' that."

  "But, Sire—if there are your royal revenues at risk... ?"

  "Laddie—I see no' a penny o' the revenues o' Dumbarton. Nor yet any other o' my Scots castles and properties. It a' goes—God kens where it goes! But no' to me. The upkeep o' Holyroodhouse and Falkland and the like. Maintaining the royal service in Scotland, as I am told—there's a wheen fine folk to maintain! Ooh, aye—plenties. Including my Lord High Admiral, eh? And the Chancellor. And the Chamberlain. And Lyon and his bubblyjock heralds!

  Aye, and a' the pack o' lords o' Session and Justice. Aye, plenties."

  "And the Lord High Treasurer himself, perhaps?"

  James looked at him directly from those soulful eyes. "Johnnie Mar's an auld friend o' mine, young man. My foster-brother he was. We were skelpit together by yon auld deil Geordie Buchanan. Mind it."

  John drew a deep breath. "Yes, Majesty."

  "Aye, weel—you didna think, wi' al' that lot to keep in fine fettle, that there'd be any siller left to come to their sovereign-lord, did you? Why I must needs seek it elsewhere. Your faither could ha' told you that, I'll be bound. So—see you to Dumbarton, as best you can. Or we'll hae to find another Keeper."

  Digesting that, John said, "You will be getting a report from the Chancellor, Sire—from the Privy Council. It will, I think, be critical..."

  "Nae doubt, lad—nae doubt. I'm aye getting reports, from this, that and the other, maist o' them critical o' something or somebody! I dinna let them a' come between me and my sleep, mind!" He pointed. "Ha—noo she's coming! Aye, she's on the way. Watch this, Diego man— hooves first I'll be bound ..."