Beside the large bed, the party divided—on this occasion very unevenly. Practically all the men took Margaret and began to undress her; there being only the one other woman, however, Cousin Margaret, John would have had sole attention had not the King and Steenie come to assist her, whilst Ludovick stook back, looking sympathetic. Great was the hilarity on the other side of the bed, the bride being notably more co-operative than her groom. John, normally no prude, found it all distasteful to a degree. Strangely or otherwise, he resented Steenie's fumblings much more than v the young woman's.
Margaret was stark-naked first and being vociferously acclaimed—as indeed she deserved to be, with a well-proportioned, full-breasted and satisfying figure, adequately endowed in all respects, which she made no feeble attempts at covering, confidence in her own physical attractions entirely obvious. John, of course, was less confident, the male partners in these trying occasions more often than not tending to worry about their masculinity demonstrating itself, as it were to order, desire in the circumstances apt to be at a lowish ebb, however vigorous it might have been had they been alone. This was the situation now, and loud and detailed were the comments and instructions of the onlookers.
At this stage there was usually some spirited argument, on the part of the bedders rather than the bedded, as to which should be placed where, and when. Now Steenie, undoubtedly intent on getting his own back for that memorable occasion in Edinburgh's Candlemaker's Row, took charge, declaring that there was no question but that the bridegroom must be deposited first, and on his back, if there was going to be any sport at all, since assuredly he was in dire need of assistance. As it happened, this announcement proved to be something of a kindness to the victim, however unintentionally, for, in a sudden burst of real anger, John twisted round, fists clenched, and would have struck the Marquis had not the King hastily put himself between them, flapping beringed hands and babbling admonitions; and the spasm of wrath had the effect of deflecting John's preoccupation with physical problems for the moment and contributing some useful spirit to the situation.
James beckoned to some of the bride's supporters for aid, and a little reluctantly two or three of these young men relinquished their grip on their delectable quarry and came round to assist the bridesmaid to hoist John on to the bed, and there to hold him down, on his back, Steenie now keeping warily out-of-range, whilst their colleagues on the other side picked up Margaret, squealing with laughter, and deposited her on top of her new spouse. And thus the pair were held in place by eager hands, while advice and urgings were showered upon them and even wagers shouted, complimentary and otherwise.
If this was John's first nuptial bedding, Margaret had undoubtedly attended numerous others and knew what was expected of her. She squirmed about on top of her partner, rotating her stomach in practised fashion, and hoisting herself sufficiently forward to brush her prominent breasts and nipples across John's face and lips, worked into a rhythm which gradually increased in tempo. And, despite himself, the man felt his manhood rising to the occasion—and the development was noted and exclaimed upon by all. Margaret, legs wide, slid backwards somewhat, to regularise the situation, to applause and hand-clapping.
The young woman continued her effective ministrations in less urgent motion.
Ludovick, who had stood back throughout, now asserted himself, raising his voice. "Enough!" he exclaimed. "We are all satisfied that this match is being properly consummated and looks apt to be fruitful. Our duty here is done. As father to the groom and good-father to this young woman, I declare this bedding adequately performed by all concerned. We shall now leave them to their own devices— with our blessing! Sire . . . ?"
"Devices, aye!" James said, leering. "As to fruitfulness— och, yon's no' hard to prognosticate! Mind, I couldna see much sign o' it, as yet—I could not!"
"Time enough, James. Now—let us return to the table ..."
The King allowed himself to be led off, with backward glances—and none could refuse to follow the royal example, even though one or two parting kisses were deposited on Margaret's plump and busy white buttocks. At last the door closed behind the last of them.
"Lord, John," the young woman gurgled, "that was touch and go! I feared that you were not going to be able to do it! We would never have heard the end of that!"
Without a word, John suddenly and forcibly half-rose, rolled her over, to bestride her and assail her almost violently.
"That. . . is . . . better!" she gasped.
Somewhat to his surprise, John Stewart found his life remarkably little changed for being a married man. Whitehall Palace was not large and had long been crammed to overflowing by the court; the King had been able to provide no extra accommodation for the young couple, or at least had failed to do so. The bedroom they had occupied that first night thereafter was returned to its normal occupants. The ducal quarters were very restricted, like all else, consisting of only three rooms, Ludovick's own bedchamber, a small living apartment and a tiny closet in which John had slept, too small for two; besides, the Duke naturally did not want Margaret roosting in his rooms. So they returned to rambling St James's, where there was at least plenty of room of a sort. But, since the King seemed to require John's services ever more frequently thereafter, as a kind of confidential messenger, not only in connection with the paper-trade but on other errands, and expected him to be almost instantly available, he spent nearly as many nights in his old closet at Whitehall as at St James's. Margaret did not seem to mind.
The fact was that James was initiating a new policy of government, as part of his determination to bring down the power of the Howards and their aristocratic like, who had dominated public office for so long. His aim was now to insinuate almost complete nobodies into significant positions of influence, who would do what they were told, being entirely dependent upon the crown's support; but, whilst having no personal base of great wealth or inherited power, they must be able. And, so that they could be more easily got rid of, should any of them prove ineffective or a nuisance, they must all appear to be recruited by the Marquis of Buckingham rather than by himself; and so any blame for their conduct could be laid at Steenie's door. This was a carefully thought-out and far-reaching strategy, involving numerous departments of government, such as Chancery, the law courts, Customs and Excise, the Admiralty, the Mint, and, above all of course, the Treasury. In this key position, a comparatively new man, Lionel Cranfield, another city merchant, was installed, in place of the Howard Earl of Suffolk, and to him John was a constant courier with the King's secret orders and requirements. Others to whom John beat trails were George Calvert, the new joint Secretary of State, and Henry Yelverton the new Attorney-General. Also he went much to the Tower of London, to Sir Allen Apsley the Lieutenant-Governor, with instructions relative to the treatment and interrogation of the many Howards now in his charge. It was the jest of London that the said Howard faction should set up its own Privy Council in the Tower, since they had there a former Lord Treasurer, a former Lord Chamberlain, a former Secretary of State, a former Lord Admiral of England and a former Captain of Pensioners.
All this, as well as keeping John busy, meant that his initiation into married life was fairly gradual. There was one problem, however, which did come to cause some friction between them, and to concern him somewhat, and this was the matter of suitable employment for his wife. She declared, and he accepted it, that she could not sit all day at St James's twiddling her thumbs, however busy he might be; and, for his part, he recognised that, being Margaret, left idle she might well get herself involved in activities unsuitable for the Lady Stewart of Methven. So he besought the King to fulfil his promise, given at the time of the jewellery-extraction, that he would find Margaret some place at court to compensate for her loss in the Queen's service. James brushed this off at first, but, when John enlisted his father's aid, the King eventually came up with the rather extraordinary proposal that, once the Yuletide festivities were over, she should be attached to the establis
hment of the young Lady Katherine Manners, only child of the Earl of Rutland, and Baroness de Ros in her own right, the premier barony of England, who was to marry Steenie Villiers in the spring, when she reached her fifteenth birthday. Apparently this young person was somewhat odd—as allegedly was her father—had no experience of court or even city life, but was of all things already much interested in witchcraft, necromancy and the black arts. Clearly she must be taken in hand before she, and her great wealth, became the property of the Marquis of Buckingham. So she was to be brought to London and set up at Wallingford House, Westminster, in the care of Steenie's mother. But it was felt that a younger woman was required to be her companion and tutoress in the ways of court and society, and it seemed to the King that Meg Hamilton would suit, Steenie apparently agreeing.
John was doubtful about this. He did not like Buckingham and desired no closer association with him; and the heiress sounded a curiosity. On the other hand, it would solve a problem; and, if he refused agreement, James was unlikely to come up with any other appointment. Moreover, Margaret's down-to-earth outlook on life was unlikely to be affected by this girl's fantasies—as James, who was especially interested in witchcraft and allied subjects, pointed out. So he agreed to put it to his wife—and Margaret accepted the offer with alacrity.
So it was arranged. Margaret would move to Wallingford House, where a couple of rooms would be made available, to prepare all for the young Baroness's and the Countess of Buckingham's arrivals, John still less than easy about it, in his mind.
The Queen died at last, in March, and great was the stir occasioned, not least at Whitehall, where, the King learning that the end was approaching, took sundry steps. He ordered John and Margaret to go to Hampton Court, the moment his Anna breathed her last, to take charge of all valuables there in his name, until they saw what her will said. He ordained a spectacular funeral. And he departed for Theobalds to hunt, pointing out that he misliked funerals, deputing Prince Charles, Ludovick and Steenie to see to all.
So John had the unpleasant task of descending like some vulture on the Queen's possessions almost while her body was still warm, with authority now, but still with distaste. They found little in the way of jewellery, however; most had already gone. James would be displeased. John also was involved in making the funeral arrangements, this entailing much toing and froing to great houses all over London, and the soothing of ruffled feelings over precedence and the like, for in the end most of the arrangements were left to Ludovick, Charles being useless and Steenie bored.
It all turned out to be infinitely more difficult and frustrating than might have been anticipated, this mainly James's fault. For, although he so disliked funerals that he could not attend that of his wife, he nevertheless took all too great an interest in the proceedings from a distance, sending detailed instructions almost daily on how everything was to be done and who was to do what. And his requirements got more and more elaborate, and confusing, as time went on. And time did go on for, although, on his instructions, the Queen's body was brought from Hampton Court to Somerset or Denmark House a week after death, and there embalmed to lie in state, the funeral itself kept getting put off, as ever more ambitious ceremonial was devised; this partly on account of the planning having to be continually changed, but mainly because there was no money to pay for all this flourish. For instance, there was the command that 280 poor women were to form part of the funeral procession, each given a suitable black shawl—where James got the figure of 280, no one could guess—and all the noble ladies in the cortege were to wear twelve yards of black broadcloth over their other clothing, and countesses sixteen. So money was of the essence and parliament would pay for nothing. Although the Queen's personal estate was now being valued at £400,000, with debts of only £40,000 it would be long enough before the bereaved spouse could lay hands on much of that and Prince Charles already claiming his share.
Things got even worse when the King, tiring of Theobalds outwith the hunting season, moved seventy miles further away to Newmarket for the horse-racing. John, for one, came to know that road, by Waltham and Bishops Stortford and Saffron Walden into Suffolk, all too well as the weeks passed.
In the end it was two and a half months after her death before the Queen was finally laid to rest, and in scarcely restful fashion, on 13 May, despite the inauspicious date. The funeral procession formed up outside Somerset House en route for Westminster Abbey, all in theory exactly as the latest commands had come from Newmarket. First of all was to ride the Captain of the Royal Guard, with a mounted troop of his men. Then a detachment of the Yeomen of the Guard from the Tower. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London—but not the other bishops, who were to march with the lords. The point was stressed that only the soldiers were to ride, all the rest to walk. Then came Garter King of Arms with his heralds, leading a choir of seventy singing boys chanting doleful music. There was then to be a suitable gap, whereafter would come the Prince of Wales, walking alone. Behind him would be the hearse, drawn by six matching black horses and bearing on top of the coffin an effigy of the Queen, in wax, made at great expense and splendidly dressed. It was hoped that the May sunlight would not melt the wax.
After the hearse would come the Queen's favourite riding-horse, led by her Master of the Horse—who had not had any horses to master for long, and this old beast now decrepit. Then was to follow the principal female mourner, supported by the two most high-ranking nobles in England—both Scots, as it happened, the Duke of Lennox and the Marquis of Hamilton. There had been great trouble over this matter, for in the absence of Elizabeth of Bohemia, the only princess, who had not returned to England, the Countesses of Arundel and Nottingham had fought a virulent war over their respective claims, oddly enough both of them wives of Howards in disgrace. Lady Arundel's husband would have been Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal and head of the house of Howard, had his father not been executed by Queen Elizabeth for allegedly conspiring to free the then captive Mary Queen of Scots and put her on Elizabeth's throne. His kinsman, the Earl of Nottingham, had then been appointed acting Earl Marshal and premier earl of England. So both ladies claimed seniority, but James, after much lobbying at long range, had come down in favour of Arundel, since at least her father-in-law had been a supporter of his own royal mother. Lady Nottingham, however, swathed in heavy broadcloth like the rest, stalked immediately behind, sniffing, and ignoring and being ignored by Steenie, Marquis of Buckingham at her side, dressed at his finest in pale blue satin.
There followed all the other court ladies under their weighty loads of material, most difficult to walk in; and then the ranked nobility and aristocracy of England—such as were not required at Newmarket—with an admixture of Scots amongst them, all in order of precedence, most difficult and time-consuming to arrange, with constant contests and claims to be sorted out, and people like John and Will Alexander charged with the task, all but at their wits end. The bishops were particularly awkward, with much dispute over dates as to the establishment of bishoprics. This section of the procession extended to almost a mile long in itself.
In nice juxtaposition came the 280 poor women, many already fortified for the long walk with ales and spirits and making a lot of noise. Then followed the Lord Mayor, sheriffs and aldermen of the City of London, prominent amongst whom was Alderman Cockayne, whom John was most careful to avoid. Then the representatives of the guilds and liveried companies. James had nominated next what he called 'a host of mean fellows', which was adapted to comprise the royal servants, minions of the lords and assorted churchmen below the rank of bishop.
Finally there came more of the Royal Guard and Yeomen, marking the official end of the procession—although a great assortment of the general public followed on thereafter, almost endlessly and in high spirits, for the Queen had ever been more popular than her husband, and considerably more generous.
This enormous concourse, over three miles of it, escorted James's Annie on her final earthly journey; and, since the di
stance from Somerset House to Westminster, by the King's defined route, was at least two miles, getting all there was a prolonged and confusing business to say the least, with John and the other marshals continuously hurrying up and down like sheep-dogs with a hopelessly unruly and outstretched flock, seeking to keep it moving at approximately the same pace throughout, preventing hold-ups and pile-ups, straggling, bunching and endless argument. The ladies in their trailing broadcloth particularly found the walk wearing, and few wore suitable footwear for the filthy streets, not being used to this mode of travel, so that much finery was sadly soiled before the Abbey was reached. The two horsed companies at front and rear proved to be a nuisance rather than any enhancement, being unable to proceed at the same pace as the pedestrians; so that those ahead soon disappeared while those behind over-ran the walkers, causing maximum disorder and all but a riot. The head of the procession was in fact almost two hours late in getting started, so that the tail would be much more so; and it was well past five o' clock in the afternoon before the leaders reached Westminster, in a state of exhaustion—although there had developed some hilarity and high jinks en route, by that time, thanks to the enterprise of sundry itinerant liquor-sellers who, having visualised conditions, paraded alongside the mourners shouting their wares.
As a consequence of all this, nobody was in a state for any lengthy obsequies—except perhaps the Dean of Westminster, who had not processed with the rest but met the cortege at the great west door of the Abbey, prepared to do well by the occasion. However George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, who certainly had made the walk in his archiepiscopal splendour, now less splendid, was not slow to inform the Dean that brevity was now the order of service. The coffin, from under its effigy, was carried indoors theoretically on the shoulders of the Marquises of Hamilton and Buckingham and the Earls of Pembroke and Oxford, but the real weight was borne by underlings. At this stage, of course, most of the column was still over a mile away from the church and moving but slowly.
Unicorn Rampant Page 33
