Over the side they all went again, necessarily, to go inspect this astonishing gift, Anne distinctly tight-lipped and disapproving, forseeing all sorts of complications and disasters hereafter, and even James somewhat put out. He had been very pleased with his cannon, admittedly-but this sloop for his son had, he counted, eighteen cannon, and was in fact a more modern warship than any he could show in the fleet inherited from Elizabeth. Moderation, he muttered to Ludovick of Lennox as they were rowed out, moderation was in all things most necessar'. Christian and Henry, however, were in transports of enthusiasm.
The sloop, thereafter, was explored from stem to stem, above and below decks, forecastle and quarter-galleries, such as no English vessel boasted, displayed and explained, and the officers introduced to their new young master. All this took a long time, and King James, very much supernumerary, grew ever more fretful and disgruntled. He was, of course, hungry as well as slightly put out, and he feared that the banquet back on the flagship would be ruined. Christian was impervious to all hints. James therefore summoned his Lord High Admiral, who seemed to be the right man for the occasion, and ordered him to do something, anything, to get them off this wretched sloop.
Charles, formerly Lord Howard of Effingham, now Earl of Nottingham, who had outfaced Ehzabeth Tudor on more than one occasion, to say nothing of defeating the Spanish Armada, was not the man to be diffident with monarchs, especially foreign ones. A crusty old sea-dog, he had already lost all patience with the proceedings, and was only too glad to go up to Christian, tap him on the shoulder and tell him that it was time that they returned to the flagship for the meal, otherwise they would miss the four o'clock tide to get back into Gravesend. King Christian was not interested in getting into Gravesend; he was concerned with showing his favourite nephew this ship-and said so. The Admiral was so bold as to insist, under the eye of his own monarch Knowing that the Dane's English was doubtful, he shouted-in typical British fashion, with wretched foreigners-emphasising that four o'clock tide. Christian at least got the four o'clock bit, and delving into a capacious pocket, produced the fine round, gold watch which had been James's present to him, via George Heriot It said two o'clock. Grinning widely, the Dane raised two fingers of his right hand, in a distinctly rude gesture, and continuing with the upward movement, brought the fingers up to his royal forehead, where he wiggled them at the Lord Admiral, hooting his accustomed laughter.
It was unfortunate perhaps that Nottingham, tough as he was, was nevertheless particularly thin-skinned over only one matter -the fact that he had fairly recently married, at the age of seventy, a new wife young enough to be his grand-daughter; and the Countess was not only exceedingly good-looking but of a renowned generosity of nature. He took Christian's waving fingers to represent horns. Queen Anne's tinkling laughter nearby-she did not like the Countess of Nottingham-did not help matters. The Admiral exploded into nautical language, and shook his gnarled fist in the monarch's face.
James looked in the other direction and declared plaintively that he wanted his dinner.
Lennox and other courtiers rushed to come between Nottingham and King Christian-who appeared to be more astonished than outraged. All perceived now that a prompt move back to The Three Crowns was probably advisable, James leading the way down into the barges, despite his usual horror of water. Prince Henry pleaded to be left behind with his new acquisition-but his mother Galled him smartly back to her side.
The banquet on the Danish flagship thereafter was less than usually successful. A Certain preoccupation was evident all round, with tensions, both on the deck and in the cabin. Christian himself was probably the least affected-of course, with the flagon his unfailing consolation. James brought matters to an abrupt close by again referring to the four o'clock tide, pointing out that his admirals assured him that if they let the ebb get too well established, the royal barges would be stuck in the mud off Gravesend. This got the Queen quickly to her feet, as it was intended to do; and though Christian protested that he had a fine fireworks display arranged for dusk, and that therefore all should pass the night on board, his brother-in-law, for once supported by Anne, declared that they had had enough of ships and bunks and water, and that he, for one, intended to sleep secure in Greenwich that night Besides, the Danish squadron was to sail at first light, and that was an unchancy time for leave-taking.
So the fireworks were let off there and then, in very hurried and abortive fashion, and not even the ebullient Dane could raise much enthusiasm over what was inevitably something of a damp squib, with rockets pale in the sunshine and bangs much less satisfactory than real cannon-fire.
With the tide ebbing inexorably and James becoming agitated, things were rounded off at speed, and a distinctly final farewell taken of the Danish guests, Christian looking bewildered as to why and where his splendid leave-taking day had gone wrong. James, as a final gesture, handed over what remained in George Heriot's box for his brother-in-law to distribute to any of his people who might have been missed out patting his fellow-monarch on the shoulder. Then he was hurrying down the steeply-sloping gangway to his barge, when abruptly the proximity of the sea below him seemed to strike him, and he waited until watermen came up to conduct him safely down, the while calling his Maker to preserve him from the perils of the deep. Anne, a sea-king's daughter, laughed unkindly, but was not far behind. Only young Henry lingered, and had to be brought off in the last barge, by Lennox, along with the servitors and other nonentities, tears in his eyes at losing his new hero and kindred spirit. Christian wept too.
Heriot was also in the last barge, his usefulness now over for the time-being.
"Thank God that's all by with!" Lennox confided to his friend, in a corner of the barge. "Christian is all very well, but his visit has gone on for too long. I, for one, am exhausted. As are you, I swear. Not to mention our liege lord."
"No doubt," the other agreed. "But it is not our exhaustion, nor yet the King's, which concerns me so much as the exhaustion of the Exchequer! Funds, siller, pounds Sterling. This visit has cost a mint of money-and where it is all to come from, even to pay me back my share, the Lord knows. Eyen at the end there, King James threw away three-hundred pounds and more, in jewels. For nothing. The folly of it!"
"At least he got a whole ship in return-and that's worth a deal, I'd say! Have you ever seen the like? They say it cost twenty-five thousand pounds just to build that ship. What worth is a sloop-of-war, manned, armed and provisioned?"
"Worth little or nothing to a king who does not go to war I" Heriot asserted. "He can scarcely sell it-and parliament will not give him money in exchange for an addition to the realm's navy, I think. Besides, it is the Prince's ship-whatever he can find to do with it! I am interested in hard money, gold, silver, jewels-not ships and cannon. I am, to be sure, a tradesman and huckster, and no nobleman with a mind above such things!"
The Duke grinned. "Spoken like Geordie Heriot and none other! But you need not concern yourself overmuch about James's purse now, my friend-nor your loans to him. He told me, while we were waiting on yon ship, that he has won part of his battle with parliament-the English parliament. They have agreed to grant him four hundred thousand pounds immediately, for his personal expenditure-although they refuse to give him a fixed annual income in return for his surrender of his feudal dues. In exchange for the four hundred thousand pounds, they claim that he may no longer levy customs duties personally but must hand all such over to parliament-although the judges declare that he is entitled to do this, in law. So you ought to get your money back now, Geordie, never fear." Lennox sighed. "Would that my problems were as nearly solved."
"You think mine solved? I have yet to get the money out of the King's pocket And if parliament is to take to itself customs duties, than I lose the customs of Harwich haven which James granted me before we went to Scotland. I have been arranging their efficient collection-at cost to myself. The Lord giveth- perhaps-and the Lord taketh away, certainly! Blessed be the name of the Lord " Heriot smile
d then, at his friend, for the first time for a while. "Forgive me, Vicky-I am a gloomy dog these days. And selfish. I am finding it hard to be so far away from my Alison. To be denied… what my being longs for. Yet you, I know well, are likewise so denied. I ask your pardon."
"Aye, Geordie-we are a sorry pair! For our ladies to shake their fair heads over 1 At least I shall be seeing mine soon again. And I shall require all Mary's wits and good offices to get me through this parliament at Perth, I fear. I am not happy about this imposition of bishops that James is set on. For myself, I care not whether we have bishops or presbyters or the Pope himself! But can you see Scotland lying down to this? Even though James has prepared the way, it seems." "He has?"
"Oh, yes, James is cunning. He has been whining over this lord and that, giving his bishoprics to carefully chosen folk Aye, and setting Glasgow against St Andrews, Aberdeen against Brechin, and the like."
"He will not win over Andrew Melville and his like-minded friends, for all that"
"Ha-but here is more of his cunning. He has summoned Melville, and six others of the most prominent, of the Kirk party, down here to London. A royal command. To explain to him their views. So that they will not be there to rouse the parliament. If they refuse to come, he can banish them. Possibly he hopes for that. Either way, he gains. You must agree, for a fool, he is not backward at getting his own way!"
"Who says James Stewart is a fool? Never George Heriot- only those who look on the surface, do not truly know the man. As he says himself, he's nane so Mate and kens what's what. And that, I think, is putting it modestly. I find him a sore trial, yes-but, by God, I prefer to be his friend than his enemy! If sometimes, foolishly, I forget it"
PART THREE
16
GEORGE HERIOT was at his promenading in St. Paul's Church, discussing the state of quite a number of prominent folks' credit with Sir William Herrick, now also Court jeweller, and alleged to be the richest money-lender in London, when a stranger approached them and rather diffidently requested the favour of a word or two with Master Heriot. He did not look, nor sound, like any sort of prosperous client, was modestly dressed, but had a certain air about him which appeared to be compounded of an odd mixture of demonstrative if superficial self-denigration, contained force and down-damped humour. Heriot had seen him before somewhere. Excusing himself to Herrick, he led the newcomer aside, into the same side-chapel where he had once taken the Duke of Lennox.
‘I should know your face, sir," he said-and that was true, for apart altogether from the demeanour and bearing, the countenance was unusual, with a great swelling brow which seemed to dominate all, and receding hah, above keen, almost foxy features, with a long nose and chin and pointed little auburn beard. The eyes were deep, dark and rather sad. He was approximately Heriot's own age.
"You will have seen me at certain Court masques, Master Heriot-since I think that you are not a play-goer? My name is Shakespeare-Will Shakespeare, of the Globe Playhouse, in Southwark And of His Majesty's Players."
"Ah-to be sure. That is it. I saw you at Wilton once, I think. With my Lord Southampton's company."
"My lord has been sufficiently kind to advance my poor offerings, in what we are assured are the right directions!" the other agreed gravely-although Heriot did not miss the faint mockery behind the words.
"Your offerings, as you name them sir, are their own best patron. You have, I believe, written many plays and sonnets and masques, all well-spoken of by those knowledgeable in such matters. I have heard that you have not failed even to write of the sad plight of money-lenders and usurers. Her Majesty indeed, for a little, took to calling me Shylock!"
"My Merchant was of Venice, sir, not of Scotland-but a man of parts, nevertheless. He had a long memory, a strong sense of justice and a grim humour. I am told that the Scots very generally display the same? Even His Majesty's royal self!"
"H'mm. Perhaps. And what can I do for you, Master Shakespeare? You now have no lack of wealthy patrons, I understand. It cannot be that you wish to borrow money, I think?"
"No-on that I can set your mind at rest, Master Heriot, at least! As well as counselling you never lend to folk of the play and theatre anyway-for their own good! I come to you because His Majesty sends me."
"The King? To me? Here's a strange charge, surely? I know nothing of plays or playwrights, nor yet of masques or costume either…"
"But you do of Scotland, sir-which is to the point." The other looked round him. "I come of a sacrilegious, not to say impious profession, I fear, and I find a church scarce the place for discussion of my craft. I did call at your premises at the Exchange, and your man sent me here. Perhaps we could speak more freely there?" The man had a Midland countryman's accent, overlaid by an actor's emphasis and intonations.
"As you will. It took some time for me to accustom myself to doing business in this church, I assure you. It is not so in Scotland. Let us move out, yes-but better than my shop, there is an ale-house just beyond the churchyard here…"
Seated in a corner of a dark, low-ceiled tavern, with beakers of ale before them, the man Shakespeare came to the point. "King James is concerned to improve-or perhaps I should say, correct -the view, the notion, of the Scots and Scotland held here in England," he said, picking his words. "You, I have no doubt, knew well that in truth your fellow-countrymen are scarcely loved, sir! The fault may not all be their own, but there is little question but that most Englishmen would fain see them all back in Scotland tomorrow-and rejoice! This is unfortunate, lamentable-but a fact, whatever the reasons."
"I know it well, never fear," Heriot nodded. "I could scarcely help doing so. But I am interested to hear that the King is so concerned. I had not thought that it would much trouble him."
"It seems that it does. Sufficiently for him to seek the aid of such as myself. He would have me to write a play, which would make folk here see Scotland and the Scots in a kinder light, make them better aware of the virtues of your nation, its antiquity and history. He believes that this would benefit his united kingdom."
"You surprise me, sir-or at least, His Majesty does. But then, he seldom fails to do that! A monarch who would think of such a thing is something new! Could a ploy have such effect?"
"I know not But the King believes it so. I have never written one with such an object But staged and enacted, many see and speak of such productions. Who knows what their influence might be? Who am I to refute our illustrious and so erudite sovereign?"
Heriot ignored the thinly veiled mockery in that. "This play, then, is to be about Scotland's history? That I fear, is a bloody one, sir, from first to last. I do not know whether this is the stuff of plays and entertainment 1"
"Tragedy can be as entertaining as comedy, Master Heriot-I can move people to tears more easily than I can make them laugh. And they will remember the sorrow long after they have forgot the merriment."
"As to theme-has the King any notions for you, Master Shakespeare?"
"Yes, indeed. He would wish me to magnify and extol the antiquity of his own royal line, as is to be expected. But he is concerned to emphasise the nobility of the Scots-since he perceives that the impression made here in England by many who have come South in the royal train is scarce of that quality!"
"That I can understand. I fear my countrymen, as a whole, who have followed the King, make but a poor showing. But then, it is seldom the best who leave their own land. Nor who form princes' courts. I sometimes think that I myself should have remained in Scotland."
"If the others were all like you, sir, I think King James would have little need of my services 1 No-I do not flatter you. Your reputation stands high in this city for honest dealing, shrewd wits and a modest bearing and civility, less than usual in such of your compatriots as we find amongst us."
"You exaggerate, Master Shakespeare-as perhaps playwrights will tend to do. Both the good and the ill. But-how can this paragon of shrewdness and modesty aid you, since I know nothing of your craft?"
"It is
the King's belief that you can help me to know the Scots, the true Scots. He say that I will learn little of them, or of Scotland, from the nobles and courtiers that flock around him. But Geordie Heriot, as he names you, is different, it seems. A man of the people, who has yet his roots deep in the soil of Scotland- for I understand that you come of a landed family, sir? The King thinks most highly of you."
"Sometimes you would scarcely suspect it. But I will help you if I can. What is required?"
"Guidance, first as to theme, and then as to scene and character. For I am all too well aware of my own ignorance in this matter. We need a dramatic situation, where a great evil is committed, but by a man for whom the playgoers may feel some sympathy, some understanding of his lapse and fall into temptation. It must be an ancestor of His Majesty. And there must be a strong part for a woman, or women-this all insist upon. Though not the King! Moreover, as you will understand, since it is to please and edify the English, battle and intrigue against England will not serve-and, to my mind, most of Scottish history seems to be concerned with that! So the great Bruce and his successors, or any of the Jameses until this one, tend to fail us…"
The Wisest Fool mog-4 Page 35
