The Wisest Fool mog-4

by Nigel Tranter

  Now Master Galloway delayed his arrival-as James Primrose had foretold he would, as a matter of policy, always concerned to make a dramatic entry and to show who was master in God's house. Master Balfour was in his position in front of the Communion Table, waiting patiently with the rest. The chatter from the great congregation was sufficiently loud to allow bride and groom to converse easily, without even having to lower their voices, while James Primrose frowned and puffed, and sundry of Alison's sisters, as attendants, giggled behind.

  At length Galloway appeared, sweeping in from a vestry door as though blown in by the winds of the wilderness of Sinai itself, long white locks and black Geneva gown streaming, forked beard jutting. At sight of him a suitable silence fell.

  Striding, by no means by the shortest route, to the chancel steps, unfortunate relic of Popery, he halted before the bridal pair, head up, not so much as glancing at them. He stood there, so, for moments-and then raised arm and hand high.

  "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost!" he thundered. There was going to be no doubt about the Deity's involvement in this wedding.

  It was at this moment, carefully calculated evidently, that there was a diversion. The great north doors, to the High Street, closed some time before to keep out the town rabble, were suddenly and noisily flung open. All heads turned to stare, and Patrick Galloway, hand still upraised, looked both thunderstruck and ready to call down heaven's thunderbolts.

  Two uniformed members of the Town Guard stood within the doorway, and one of them thumped with the butt of his halberd on the flagstones, shouting, "Make passage and silence for His Grace's Great Commissioner, my Lord High Treasurer the Earl of Dunbar, Knight of the Garter!"

  Doddie Home came strolling in, with his curious rolling walk, half-a-dozen overdressed young gentlemen in his train. The doors were shut again.

  George Heriot did not know whether to groan or grin. This was James's doing, undoubtedly-for he and Dunbar cordially loathed each other, and the Earl would not have shown his heavy-jowled face here had he not been expressly commanded to do so. But it was turning this long-waited-for wedding into a show, another charade like the Logan trial-for some purpose, not clear, but which had nothing to do with matrimony, he had no doubt.

  The entry had a chastening effect on Master Galloway, at least. Quite put off his stride, he frowned, tugged his beard, made a sort of bow to the King's representative, and waved vaguely towards the front of the congregation-where was the only room left in this crowded place, and where the Earl would have installed himself anyway. This inevitably put Dunbar and his supercilious attendants only a foot or two behind the bridal party-to the excitement of the Primrose daughters.

  Less than amiably, Galloway swung on Master Balfour and gestured that he should proceed with the ceremony meantime. A little flustered, that youngish man made a false start or two before getting under way.

  The Presbyterian wedding ceremony was not a long one, and fairly simple. Quite soon Galloway had recovered himself and moved in to take over at the significant stage of the exchange of vows and the fitting of the ring. Thereafter, having with some speed declared the couple man and wife, he launched into a rousing and almost accusatory address to the pair before him on the duties and dangers of holy matrimony, laying emphasis on the pitfalls rather than the delights and sonorously warning all present of the results and damnations of the sins of the flesh, in some detail. It was at this stage, unhappily, that the noise from above began to become distracting. The old city of Edinburgh, cramped within its walls on its high spine of rock, was notoriously short of space-which was why the lands and closes were so crowded and the tenements so tall. Prison space was in short supply as all else, and at the Reformation the enormous cathedral-like church of St. Giles had seemed a godsend to the harassed magistracy. The lofty groined-vaulted ceilings soaring into dimness were obviously quite unnecessary for modest and reformed Presbyterian worship, and so timber entresol floors had been inserted above the three churches into which it was subdivided. Indeed, the Tolbooth Kirk was so named for excellent reason, since the Town Council met therein, courts were held and even parliaments had on occasion sat there. It so happened that the garret section above the Little Kirk was used for the incarceration of offending whores, prostitutes and common wantons-and these were not infrequently the most vocal and quarrelsome of the prisoners. A major engagement appeared to have broken out upstairs, and thumps, bangs and shrill invective penetrated the floorboards with ease. With the congregation-perhaps even the new husband and wife-stretching ears to catch the gist of the disagreement there rather than his own stern words of admonition, Patrick Galloway turned to glare at Balfour and sweep a pointing and commanding finger heavenwards. The younger minister hurried off to see if he could restore order aloft, either by the fear of God or of the Town Guard. Keenly interested, all save Galloway listened on his progress. By the time that the signing of the register was over, some quiet had been achieved above-but now the congregation itself was stirring and talking. Galloway soon put a stop to that, by striding to the pulpit, banging fist on Bible, and commencing his sermon. The proclaiming and expounding of the Word was considered to be one of the principal planks of Presbyterian worship and no services got off without a sermon-even weddings. Heriot had not really hoped to escape one on this occasion, when he had reconciled himself to Galloway, and now he wondered whether the noise overhead might not have been better left unchecked as a dissuading influence. At least the man was not preaching this time in Latin-as he had done once, at Leith harbour, on the first arrival from Denmark of the fourteen-year-old Queen Anne. He had gone on then for over an hour.

  In the end it was probably Dunbar's young gentlemen, rather than the street ladies above, that the congregation had to thank for obtaining their release after another half-hour, who, with their undisguised contempt for preachers so infuriated the divine by their cantrips and unabashed teasings of the bridesmaids that he could no longer continue. To the relief of all, he abruptly bellowed Amen at them, hurled a spluttering and angry benediction and stormed from the pulpit and out, an exit even more dramatic than his entry-and without a further glance at the couple he had married.

  It was ironical, thereafter, that the first to congratulate the happy pair inevitably had to be Doddie Home, who did so stiffly, formally, before marching out first from the church. Presently, in the High Street, where a large crowd had assembled, Heriot with an arm round his laughing bride to protect her from the crush, guided her over to the steps of the Cross, amidst cheers. Mounted there, he thanked all who had turned out so kindly to wish them well, declared that he was the most fortunate man in Scotland and announced that free wine, ale and meats would be dispensed for all comers until the evening curfew sounded-this to deafening applause. Then, aided by Alison, he splashed wine, by hand, from a broached cask, over all within range, in the traditional manner and tossed handfuls of placks and groats from a sack for the bairns-and others-to scramble for. A firework display would be held, he shouted, at dusk in the park of the Palace of Holyroodhouse, when there would be further refreshment. All were invited-and the Netherbow Port and Watergate would be kept open after the normal closing hour by special and kind permission of the new Provost, Sir John Arnot, here present. On that happy note a move was made by the entire wedding company, down the High Street and Canongate to Holyroodhouse, which James had insisted was to be the venue of the marriage feast and celebrations, as his royal gift-although Geordie might find it expedient to have some little redecorating and furbishing up put in hand previously, since the place was no doubt in need of it now. Coaches had been hired to convey the bridal retinue and guests down to the palace, but Alison in her lightsome joy would have none of it. The sun shone, she pointed out, they had been cooped up in that church for too long and it was less than a mile of distance. This was the day of days and-they would take the crown of the causeway and walk. Her groom was nothing loth.

  In the end, everybody walked, in
a lengthy narrow procession- for Alison's remark about the crown of the causeway was no mere figure of speech and only the raised centre of the cobbled street was passable for the lightly shod or the fastidious, the wide open gutters at either side being by no means wide enough, for all the waste matter, sewage, household soil and slops, the effluvia of stables, byres, styes and hen-runs, which the good citizens threw therein, with or without the warning cry of "Gardyloo!", in the simple faith that gravitation, evaporation, or speedy decomposition would before long remove it. Mary Gray it was who made the suggestion that a street fiddler should lead them on their way- there were always plenty of these in Edinburgh, though not always sober enough to fiddle walking, or even standing up. They were fortunate enough to find one who was, in a close-mouth; and so, to a jiggling, gay rant, they wound and tripped their way down the long, sloping street, between the canyon-walls of the tall, beetling tenements, hung with washing and folk waving from windows and balconies and shooing out of the way children, dogs, pigs and poultry-although most of the way Alison, on her husband's arm, danced rather than walked, despite her finery, her train wrapped round her like any shawlie. She even constrained the King's Goldsmith to skip a step or two, every now and again, though in highly self-conscious fashion. Once, glancing round rather guiltily after one of these indiscretions, it was to discover, not far behind, the magnificent figure of Patrick, Lord Gray, all in white satin slashed with black, Mary on one arm, Lady Marie on the other, jiggling to the lilting melody with entire elan.

  So, singing like a lark, Alison, with her love, passed through the Netherbow Port and into the separate burgh of the Canongate, the palace ahead of them.

  At Holyroodhouse cooks, bakers, vintners and decorators of various sorts had been busy all day-and indeed for days previously-preparing. The providing of the wedding feast was, of course, traditionally the responsibility of the bride's father, but James Primrose, in the circumstances, had been very happy to bow to the pressure to use George Heriot's deeper purse. No expense had been spared, in consequence, and the ancient palace, though admittedly now somewhat neglected not to say dilapidated, at least superficially had not looked gayer since Queen Mary's lively days. Banners, bunting, greenery, flowers were everywhere, hired tapestries and hangings and carpeting covered bare stone and flaking plaster, panelling was repaired and tempera painting was renewed, while instrumentalists played in corners, on balconies and in the pleasance. Even certain repairs had been effected to a leaking roof. King James would have rubbed his hands.

  There were actually two feasts, one in the Throne Gallery, set for one hundred and fifty, and one in the open forecourt, not set but supplied for five hundred. There was no very clear distinction between the two, and any such there might be became less so as the day wore on-for this was a prolonged occasion. Not only Heriot and his bride wandered in and out between the two. The Scots were never a very class-conscious race and all sections of the invited guests mingled freely enough-though it would be fair to say that the majority of the trader, craftsmen and apprentice guests did not penetrate up to the Throne Gallery, even though there was nothing to stop them doing so; and indeed many of their womenfolk, in especial, did make a quick foray aloft, just to be able to talk about it afterwards. On the other hand, most of the more aristocratic guests did frequent the forecourt festivities intermittently during the five hours of continuous feasting, for here were the side-shows, the jesters and tumblers and wrestlers, the bear-dancing, cock-fighting, dwarf displays and other delights. Needless to say, the Earl of Dunbar and his minions did not honour this affair with their presence; but Chancellor Dunfermline did, and Tam o' the Coogate-though not his father or brother-as did the Reverend Balfour, a pleasant and not too earnest divine who did not always seem to equate sternness with their Creator.

  By no means all the company were in a condition to appreciate the fireworks display when at length that stage was reached- though none complained thereat. Alison, with squeals, let off the first rocket, which burst in colourful radiance against the dark loom of nearby towering Arthur's Seat. With the shapely hill and its crags and all the city's other hills, castle and soaring, serrated skyline as backcloth, the extended display was highly impressive and challenging and the cheers of the watching crowds eloquent In time, however, even Alison became slightly apprehensive, wondering how much each flash and bang and star-shower was costing.

  "Never heed, lass," her new spouse advised her. "Leave me to calculate that I do not get married every day" He patted her bottom, in proprietorial fashion, as she ran off to light another.

  "An excellent entertainment, Master Geordie. A most notable occasion, for which we are all vastly in your debt," a melodiously assured voice declared at his shoulder, presently.

  He turned to Patrick Gray. "Ah, I thank you, my lord," he said. "From you, who are so knowledgeable in these matters, that is more than I deserve." "I think not This is altogether a day to remember." "It will be my joy to remember it, sir."

  "Of course, of course. You are, I swear, a most happy man. Your Alison is an enchantment. I do believe that you may be as fortunate in your wife as I am in mine!" Surprised, Heriot gave a little bow, but said nothing.

  They watched a fiery wheel soar and circle, sparking, through the gloaming sky. "You will have put your hand deep in a deep pocket for all this, my friend," Gray observed.

  "Not more deeply than the occasion warrants. After all, I have paid for the like times ainany, for the King's pleasure. Should I not now do so for my own and my friends'?"

  "Well spoken, sir. I do agree. But… I think that you are too kind, at times, to our peculiar sovereign lord 1" "Is it not my duty to serve him? All our duty? "

  "No doubt But to serve him and his realm to best effect may-demand more, shall we say, discrimination than just giving him all he asks. No?"

  "I am a simple tradesman, my lord. Not for me to discriminate amongst the King's wishes."

  "Ha-I wonder! And how simple, my friend? Tell me-did that payment to me of nineteen thousand pounds come from your pocket? Or the King's?" "From the King's. In due course."

  "Ah, yes-in due course! I wonder. His Grace is to be congratulated on this simple subject of his, I think! But, Master Geordie-that does not mean that His Grace will necessarily love you the more for it. Nor reward you suitably. Or, perhaps, at all!"

  Heriot cleared his throat "I do not pretend to any nobility of mind, my lord, as of blood-but I do not seek reward from His Grace, I think. I esteem our, our relationship otherwise." "Said like a very loyal servant. As I was once"

  "I acknowledge that His Grace treated you ill, my lord. I was, and am, sorry. But-he may have had reasons unknown to me. Or even to you! Kings are not as other men. Cannot be."

  "An interesting philosophy, sir. I am surprised at your disclaimer of nobility of mind. I conceive you to be all but bursting with it!"

  Nettled, Heriot frowned. "Speaking of deep pockets, my lord, you yourself I believe, have been spending largely of late? Or so I hear." "Ah! You have sharp ears, Master Geordie."

  "Say that I have friends, tradesmen friends. In many places. Not all in Scotland. Some even in France I"

  "So-o-o! The wind blows from that airt, does it! Interesting, is it not, how universal a language is the clink of gold pieces?"

  "Aye. Even from the Vatican itself to, shall we say, the Isles of Orkney?"

  Gray was silenced by that for a little-something few men ever achieved. He drew a deeper breath than usual. "You are a man, I swear, after my own heart" he said then, unexpectedly. "I find that hard to believe, my lord," Heriot answered, shaking his head. "Since we appear to have such very different… persuasions"

  'You think so? Tell me, my friend, if you will, you who so notably support His Sacred Majesty. How much of that support is for James Stewart, the man? And how much for his throne and realm?"

  It was the other's turn to take his time. "Both," he said, at length. "Aye, both. I am a leal subject and though I now dwell in London, a true
Scot The realm of Scotland has my devotion. But I do not separate that realm from its monarch. And I have, you might say, an affection for King James, the man-if that seems not over-presumptuous. He is not as other men-but he could not be. He has ignoble qualities, as well as great-but who has not? But he loves peace, instead of war-which is something new in kings, I think. And, in his fashion, he is honest, good-natured, learned, and thinks for his common subjects rather than for his great lords-as few have done." "But loves neither, to be sure!" "Perhaps. The more credit to him that he thinks of them, then." "I say he loves only himself-God's Vice-Regent I" "Not that, no. He is a man who needs love, I believe-and can have but little of it. He is a lonely man, for all his favourites and courtiers."

  "You are eloquent on his behalf, Master Geordie. He has a better friend in you than he deserves, I say. I would warn you, however -watch him well. He will use you, and discard you, at a whim."

  "Not at a whim, my lord. He may discard me-for a king must use men and discard them, since they are the tools of his trade, as mine are tongs and pliers and hammers-aye, and merks and pounds. But with James, it would not be at a whim. Of that I am sure."

  "Well-I have warned you, friend. If he turns and rends you, one day, as he has done myself, Balmerino and others-aye, and will do Dunbar likewise, I warrant you-recollect my warning!"

  "I thank you. But, since warnings are to the fore, may I do the same by your lordship? King James knows more of your activities and plans than perhaps you think. And if he feels his realm and throne endangered thereby could strike quite ruthlessly. And, it may be, unexpectedly."

  "That I have known for years, sir. I seek ever to take my precautions. But… so should he! Since you love him, tell him so! But-I thank you for your consideration on my behalf. We will go our several ways, Master Geordie, doing what we consider best for this strange realm of ours. Credit me with some devotion to it, likewise! Now-I have monopolised my host overlong. My apologies!" And with a smile that was kindness itself, he strolled away.