"Arabella, But… there has been talk of that for long. Ever since Elizabeth died."
"Yes, talk But this is more than talk There are very powerful folk behind it, she says. And not only Catholics." "And what has the Master of Gray to do with it?"
"That is not clear to me. Mary's letter says only that Patrick insists that Henry and young Elizabeth are not to be harmed. Nor the Queen. And they are to be sent back to Scotland. No doubt for Henry to be proclaimed King of Scots. The old story, with a new turn to it" "Does she name any names? Here in England?"
"Aye, three. Our friend the Lord Grey de Wilton, Cobham, the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and, of all folks, Sir Walter Raleigh!"
"Ph-e-ew! Raleigh! I scarce can believe that Not a man of Raleigh's stature. He has not cause to love James, no doubt-who has deprived him of the Captaincy of the Guard, But that is because he advocates war with Spain-it is a madness with the man. But James still allows him to be Governor of Jersey. Cobham is his cousin-but I would have thought that they had little in common. As for Grey de Wilton, he is a Puritan, no Catholic…"
"You have not been long, Geordie, in learning what’s what, as our leige would say, about the English nobility "
"My trade demands that sort of knowledge, my lord Duke I Did the letter say aught else?"
"It named one other-Markham. Sir Gervase, I think was the name. I have not heard of him. That, and to watch Mar again." "So-o-o! And what am I to do?"
"The good God knows! She said just to tell Geordie Heriot-he would help."
Exasperatedly the man stared at his younger and so trusting friend, and sighed. He transferred his gaze to the lofty windows of stained glass. "Myself, I do not know how to begin," Lennox admitted. "Have you told the King?"
"Not yet. You know what James is-frightened of his own shadow, yet laughing to scorn anything J tell him! We'd need more to show him than another letter from my Mary "
Heriot admitted that. But he did not want to get involved in another thankless exercise in dynastic counter-plottery.
"There is another who looks for your return to Court, Geordie," the Duke went on. "Mistress Primrose. She told me to tell you that Court was a different place, lacking you. That's a lively piece, on my soul! And don't these English know it! They are round her like flies. Some young lord will snap her up."
"I hope not." The other frowned. "She is little more than a child."
"No child that, but a very knowing young woman. And as bonny as she is bright Besides, was not Anne, her mistress, wed at fifteen? Myself I was but sixteen. Staveley has just wed a fourteen-year-old. The girl has a fondness for you, all know."
"As an older man. An uncle, perhaps. I am old enough to be her father. Nor, nor am I looking for a wife."
"I but gave you her message. She has the sharpest wits in the Queen's household."
"That I believe-since Mary Gray placed her there. Very well, Vicky-I shall come back with you to Wilton. I must, if the King commands it. For a few days only. But I have affairs to settle here, first…" "We ride tomorrow, then…"
***
Wilton House, some three miles west of Salisbury, was an experience for George Heriot-indeed, until six months previously, even for James Stewart. Built on the site of a one-time Saxon nunnery, it was not like most of the seats of the new Tudor aristocracy basically conventual buildings, abbeys, priories and the like, taken over from the Church at the Reformation and handed over by Henry the Eighth to his friends and servants. The Herberts had been at Wilton for centuries, and their rambling establishment had grown over the years into what was practically a town of its own, set in an enormous park on the southern skirts of Salisbury Plain. In an atmosphere of vast wealth, almost total security and at least local peace, the need for defence-which cooped up even the greatest Scots lord in strong stone towers- just did not apply; and every whim of the occupying generations had been met and. exploited. Seven hundred servants-not men-at-arms-serviced this mighty sprawling domain; and Pembroke himself frequently became lost in his house's labyrinths. Wilton had three great halls as well as eight dining-rooms-apart from the servants' eating-places; three chapels-and five chaplains, four bakeries; a brewery; two theatres, one indoors, one out; an ape-house, a bull-ring, a bear-pit and half-a-dozen cock-fighting-yards. It had its own race-course; a pleasure canal-system, with ornamental lakes, temples and grottoes; and its gardens covered scores of acres. The inner park had a wall twelve miles round; and the outer, stocked with game, extended over whole parishes and included many estate villages. To Wilton frequently came Ben Jonson and Thomas Campion, with their masquers; also William Shakespeare and his Lord Chamberlain's players-Pembroke being Chamberlain. Here Philip Sidney had written much of his Arcadia, and Francis Bacon was a frequent visitor.
That all this should be the private establishment of one of his subjects, gave King James much food for thought, more especially in the present state of the national exchequer. George Heriot's reactions were no less assessing, if less predatory.
When Lennox and he arrived, it transpired that the King had been away buck-hunting for hours; while the Queen was off hawking over the heronries of the Avon. Heriot had a room allotted to him in what appeared to be a stable-wing-but found no cause for complaint.
It was there that Alison Primrose came to him, presently, all cheer and welcome. "Duke Vicky told me that you were come," she cried, running up to take his hand. "I am glad, glad."
Although the man had well warned himself that he must watch his step very carefully with this child, that he was in danger of making a fool and spectacle of himself over a slip of a girl much less than half his own age-and worse, possibly damage her good name, precious even in this licentious Court-it was difficult not to respond frankly and in kind to her uninhibited greeting. Especally when he could by no means deny his fondness for the lassie, and would not hurt her for all the wealth of Wilton. He gripped her arms more strongly than he knew-and found nothing to say, by design or otherwise.
"You are so solid a person, Master Geordie! Not like most of those I see-not like any of them, to be sure. Even the Duke."
Strangely, despite all his wise resolutions, the man was distinctly cast down at this description of himself as solid. Was that what he seemed to this lightsome bairn-solid, dull, a stodgy old man? No danger to any young woman! He cleared his throat.
"Solidity comes with age-like other things 1" he said, a trifle stiffly. "It must be my years weighing me down." "How old are you?" she asked, matter-of-fact, interested. "Forty at my next birthday, child!"
"You are older than the King?" She gazed at him, big-eyed. 'The King is but newly thirty-seven-the Queen says so. And he looks an old man. How strange."
He frowned darkly. "My great age is unfortunate-but need not concern you!" he declared, sourly for George Heriot. "I hope to live for a few years yet!"
She burst into her ready laughter. "Poor, aged Master Geordie 1 You only look old when you frown! So frown no more on Alison Primrose-who disbelieves in years anyway." "You do? How is that, pray? "
'Tears, I think, have little do to with age. The King, I swear, was born old. As was my father-aged by the time he was thirty. While the Queen now, although nearly thirty, is still a child-younger than I am, in truth! As is the Duke. Ageing is something of the spirit, not of years."
"Indeed." Warily the man eyed this surprising juvenile. "I think that you are possibly right But… where does that leave me, child?"
"Old enough to know better than to name me child" she answered him swiftly.
'M'mm. In such case, girl, the sooner we are out from this bedchamber, the better for your name and reputation," he said grimly. 'There will be plenty here to watch and whisper, I have no doubt"
"To be sure," she acceded. "Not that I care-since reputations here are the other way quite! Only those who do not bed with men are talked about! Conceived to be in some way incomplete, scarce true women. But, come-I will take and show you the water-gardens. They are quite wonderful. A
nd all can dally there, for all others to view"
Shaken, he opened the door for her. Cheerfully, companionably, she took his arm and led him off, through the maze of corridors and courtyards.
It was a golden October afternoon, with white strutting doves croodling on every roof and arbour, and a faint mellow haze over all. Through the formal Italian gardens, where elegant groups strolled and flirted amidst highly erotic statuary, they came down a terrace to the lower, sunken water-gardens amongst the canals and ponds, where ornamental water-fowl quacked and squattered, and tall reeds, drooping willows and cunningly contrived bowers offered Eros a more active playground for those a stage further than flirtation. Nearly every neuk and corner seemed to be filled with busy couples, at most of which Alison glanced with every appearance of interest-until the man demanded to know whether she had brought him here with the express purpose of displaying this prolonged peep-show.
"Why, yes-in part," she admitted frankly. "That you might perceive what reputations mean at this Court And likewise age! For you will see grey hairs a-plenty in these bushes, I vow, if you but look. But mainly I came here to row out to one of these many islets. In the lochans. There are gondolas. Where we may talk without fear of being overheard, Master Geordie-of this of the Lady Arabella."
"Eh…?. You know of this, then? This new plot?"
"To be sure. Duke Vicky told me of Mistress Mary's letter. We are here to watch over the Queen, you know." This was in the nature of a mild rebuke. "And there are few places, and times, in this Wilton, where one may talk safely." "I see. The Duke did not tell me that he had confided in you."
"But he does, frequently. Mistress Mary sends me many messages. And I her. But through Duke Vicky-since it would look strange, would it not, for such as Alison Primrose to receive many letters from Scotland?"
"So. You act the spy then, for Mary Gray, in Queen Anne's household! That is the truth of it?"
"Yes," she agreed simply. "But-less loud, if you please I All ears here may not be deafened by houghmagandie!" He swallowed audibly.
There were many gaily-painted gondolas moored by the waterside paths. Picking one, Alison hitched her skirts high, and stepped in. "My lord of Pembroke is very thoughtful," she remarked. "See-there are kerchiefs here stowed. Cushions. A little wine-flagon in each boat. Sweetmeats. Also towels-most useful. And fishing-lines. There are fish of all sorts and colours. Do you wish to fish?" "Thank you, no," he said, getting in and taking up the oars.
Alison steered them out to one of the willow-grown islets, where the stones of a moss-grown temple showed through the trees. A tiny inlet screened by weeping branches led in-and as the gondola nosed into this, the girl in the stern opened her mouth, clapped a hand over it, and pointed with the other hand past Heriot’s person. He turned, and looked over his shoulder.
Another gondola was already in possession of the inlet. And on the shallow floor of it two large white thighs and bent pink knees were upraised, with a leaner bare bottom vigorous between. Heriot reversed his strokes, and backed out quickly.
Pink also, but with suppressed laughter and far from repressed delight, Alison managed to contain her mirth until they were out into the open water again.
"Lady Carey!" she gurgled. 'The superior and pious Lady Carey! Dotes on Jesuit priests. Confession every morning. Her husband out hunting with the King. A plague on it that I could not see from, from-well, who the man was!"
"I should say not!" Heriot reproved. "You are a shameless, er, young woman!"
"Shameless? What have I to be ashamed of? Any shame, surely, is the Lady Carey's."
"I do not see how you can be so certain that it was the Lady Carey. I certainly… er, h'mm…"
Joyous laughter. "Could you not, Master George! But then, perhaps, you suffer under certain disadvantages? Women have their own certainties." He had the sense not to debate that
The next islet they came to, they were more wary. But a circuit revealed no other boat They landed, and moved up to a lichened stone bench beside a marble satyr and a full-breasted nymph.
"Wilton is clearly a place for virile folk," the man commented, sitting. "Are you satisfied with our secrecy, Alison?"
"That is the first time that you have called me only by my given name!" She said. "Is it? I had not realised it!" "So I may call you Geordie? Without the Master?"
"Sakes-you could have called me that from the day we met, girl. Most others do." "But I am so young, you see. Little better than a child!"
"Have mercy, lassie! You have proved your point, I swear!" He took her hand, opened it, and pressed a kiss therein. "This is a woman's hand." He leaned over, and lightly brushed her parted lips with his own. "And that is a woman's mouth. From this on, you are a woman to me, Alison Primrose, I promise you."
She took a deep breath, and sat for long moments unspeaking, staring straight ahead of her. Then she turned to smile at him, warmly, glowingly, put her hand back in his, and so sat Not a little moved, the man was as silent as she.
At length he spoke, evenly. "About the Lady Arabella? You have something to tell me?" She sighed a little. 'Yes. She is coming here."
"Here? To Wilton? Surely not The King has kept her from Court. As did Elizabeth. And now-this plot!"
"I heard the Countess of Kildare tell the Countess of Bedford. And she is a Howard and knows all that goes on. Lady Kildare. Although she is not truly Countess of Kildare any more, since she is secretly wed to the Lord Cobham.. "
"She is? Cobham? He-that is one of those named. In the letter."
"Yes. With Sir Walter Raleigh, who is his cousin. And the Lord Grey de Wilton. Cobham and Grey are here also. But not Raleigh."
"No. He has offended the King. By declaring that there could be no peace with Spain. And declaring that the Scots succoured Philip's Armada in '88. As indeed we did, to some measure. But… you say that Lady Cobham, who was Lady Kildare, and before that Frances Howard, daughter of the Lord Admiral, says that Arabella Stewart is coming to Wilton? When?" "That was not said. But I took it as very soon." "She would not dare to come without the King's knowledge."
"Of that I know not. But it seems strange. To be coming now. When there is this of a plot. But-there is something else. Yesterday, Lord Cobham's brother, George Brooke, came here. And with him he brought another gentleman, by name of Markham. Sir Gervase Markham. And Markham was the fourth name written in Mistress Mary's letter. He is a great Catholic, they say. And he has already been to see the Marchioness Hetty of Huntly."
"So-o-o. It looks, then, as though the vultures gather. But-I do not understand this of the Lady Kildare, or Cobham, knowing of Arabella coming-if coming she is. And telling Lady Bedford. The Howards and the Russells are linked with the Cecils-the ruling faction, and very much against the Catholics. Here is something strange indeed. If they know of it all…"
"They may not know of the plot Only of the Lady Arabella's coming to Court. Perhaps… perhaps they it was who gained her summons?" "For what purpose?"
"I have no notion. But the Lord Admiral, and Secretary Cecil, so close to the King, might have their own reasons. For a change of policy, with regard to Arabella."
He frowned. "She was kept all but a prisoner, during Queen Elizabeth's later years. As a possible claimant of Elizabeth's throne. That was the Cecils' policy then. Why should they change itnow…?" They could between them produce no answer to these questions; and presently Alison said that she ought to go back to the Queen's quarters, to prepare for the royal return from hawking. For there was to be a great masque that night, in which the Queen was herself taking part-as indeed was she. Alison-and there would be much to do with costumes and dressing. They rowed ashore. "I shall see you at the masque-or after it," the girl said. "Not before? When we eat?"
"No. The King's and Queen's households are now almost wholly separate. They no longer eat together. Only when there is some especial banquet But-you could choose to belong to the Queen's household, Geordie, could you not? You were her royal jeweller, before you we
re the King's."
"True. But I am here on the King's summons. I fear that I must grace his table, however lowly the place."
***
James's hunting-party came straggling in in the late afternoon, after having been in the saddle since sunrise, a weary, dusty, dishevelled crew, fine hunting greens soiled. Heriot watched from his stable-wing window-and marvelled anew at his sovereign lord. For the King, slumped like a sack of chaff in his saddle-oddly, always he rode like that, despite being one of the best horsemen in two kingdoms-seemed to be almost the freshest there. The man who wearied after hobbling a hundred yards, who grew impatient with any ceremony lasting longer than ten minutes, who was terrified of loud noises, violent action and the sight of human blood, would spend twelve hours in strenuous hunting, slay game by the score, even on occasion gleefully gralloch his own deer in a slaister of blood and guts, and return in highest spirits. Today a long string of sumpter-horses, each bearing a head-dangling buck, seemed to ensure that the King would be in excellent mood.
A thoughtful host further improved the occasion by announcing that the royal repast would be served alfresco and out-of-doors, or at least under a tented canopy as to the King's own table, at the circular banking of the open-air bear-pit, where a great bear-baiting would take place throughout the meal, an especial performance with a notably fierce bear kept starved for the purpose, and some of the stoutest-hearted dogs in England-all arranged by his brother Philip, who was an expert in all such matters. James was graciously pleased to express entire appreciation.
The Wisest Fool mog-4 Page 14
