The Wisest Fool mog-4

by Nigel Tranter

  Heriot was stroking his little beard very thoughtfully when Mary Gray came to him. "I have been watching the pair of you, Geordie," she informed him, "talking so earnestly. When Patrick is so attentive, he usually has a reason." "We were warning each other," the man told her, briefly. "That sounds… direful?"

  "I pray that it will not be. For either of us." He smiled. "And you? This is no occasion for such talk. Have you had enough of fireworks?"

  "They are very fine. But, yes-I think I have had sufficient of entertainment Excellent as it is, Geordie. And, see you-there's another who has. I vow!" And she pointed to where Alison, young Johnnie Stewart-not so very far apart in years-and some of the Primrose family were grouped. 'Take her away, Geordie. She has had a long day and lived it to the full. But the best of it is still to come, is it not? So be it she is not so wearied as to be unable to savour it properly!"

  "M'mmm. You think…? But there is still the dancing. And I am host…"

  "Not so. You are the bridegroom. Have you forgot? I say, forget you are the so responsible George Heriot, for once. You may be paying for all this-but is not the bride's father truly the host? Let James Primrose play his part in this, at least. Slip away, Geordie dear-while you may." "While I may…?"

  'Yes. Johnnie tells me that some of the young ones are planning a bedding for you! It may be the custom, but I do not think that either of you would want that…"

  "By God-no!" he cried, all indecision swept away. "I thank you. I will speak with her. At once…"

  So, Alison far from unwilling, they did slip away unnoticed into the shadows of the pleasance-or hoped they were unnoticed.

  They could have used almost any of the innumerable rooms of the main palace as bridal chamber, but Heriot was quite content with his own old quarters in the northern conventual wing, and Alison had found no fault. Thither they hurried, and with relief the man shut the outer door behind them, and bolted it

  "Any bedding done tonight we will do without assistance!" he announced grimly.

  Her tinkle of laughter did not sound in the least jaded or weary. "I am sure that you are entirely the expert, Geordie I" she said. He looked somewhat less sure of himself, at that.

  And upstairs, faced with the great bed, all ready, and the log fire and candles flickering, they both were constrained to pause a little. Heriot, however, had thought of this, and proceeded to tell the story of his arrival here from London all those years ago, before ever they had met, to be confronted with the large white and active limbs and person of an unknown lady, plus Patrick, Lord Lindores, the Lady Marie's brother-in-law, in this same bed. If the tale was just slightly stilted at the start, he warmed to the telling and before he was finished, they were sitting on the said bed in high hilarity, all tension evaporated. Indeed, the story was never finished, for presently the girl had closed the teller's lips with her own, and, almost of their own volition, his hands were busy unclasping, unhooking and detaching her finery-a process at which Alison began to assist enthusiastically, until she changed tactics, to start on him.

  He exercised his mastery, however, declaring that one thing at a time was good policy and dutifully she acceded. And, in a little she desisted in her efforts altogether, to give him the satisfaction of removing those last silken garments. Then she stood up slowly, stood back from him, deliberately, opening her arms wide, palms cupped towards him, in a gesture of proud offering and humble giving, both, in all her heart-breaking young loveliness.

  George Heriot actually groaned aloud in the extremity of his emotion, delight, joy. Down forward on his knees he sank, to reach out and clasp her white and slender, but sufficiently rounded form about the middle, and to press his brow and lips against her warm, satin-smooth but firm flesh below the small, vigorously-pointed breasts.

  "My love, my heart," he whispered. "You are beautiful, beautiful! No man has ever looked on fairer. For long… so long… I have wanted you. Wanted you thus. Aye, thus and thus and thus!"

  "Oh, Geordie, my dear, I am glad, glad!" she exclaimed into his hah. "I feared… for long I feared… that your need was not so great… as is mine! Lord be thanked… for this!"

  He shook his head against her skin-and the doing of it so affected his lips as to set them trembling, wordless quite.

  "Oh-up, Geordie! Up!" Alison cried. "Quickly, I say. We have waited… long enough!" He rose, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  23

  GEORGE HERIOT would not have chosen to present his new wife at Court quite so soon after their return to London, with much settling in to do at the Exchange premises, the house above the shop to be remodelled and refurbished to a woman's taste, and no urgent desire on the part of either of them for haste in seeking royal recognition-especially as the Queen was said to be in low health and spirits, suffering from arthritis and money troubles and James spending much time away at Carr's new property of Sherborne, in Dorset But it so happened that Will Shakespeare's new Scots play was now finished and was to have its first showing, naturally before the monarch, at Hampton Court, only four days after their arrival. Needless to say, they both were anxious to see this. Moreover, a summons to attend was awaiting Heriot from James-though no reference was made to his wife. He was not going without her, however-and Alison agreed that putting off the confrontation with the Queen was unlikely to achieve anything. Hampton Court Palace, thirteen miles up the Thames from Whitehall, was neither one thing nor another, as far as James was concerned-not conveniently at the centre of London life, nor yet sufficiently far away to be a useful country house capable of providing the sort of hunting facilities his health was alleged to require. A vast place, built by the unfortunate Cardinal Wolsey and handed over to Henry the Eighth in 1526, James had given it to his children, Henry, Elizabeth and Charles, who ran wild amongst its honeycomb of rooms and corridors to their hearts' content-and thus largely kept out from under their father's feet. But it did provide a suitable venue for sundry large-scale activities, where the King and Queen could associate as it were on more or less neutral ground, since it was not officially the Queen's house, although she visited there much. They now lived almost entirely separate lives. So Heriot and Alison hired a pinnace to take them upriver the dozen miles on a golden September afternoon, amidst a vast deal of other traffic going the same way, a cheerful journey, with the watermen shouting scurrilities at each other, impromptu races, and humble lightermen refusing to get out of the way of great lords' barges and young bloods' wherries. At the riverside palace amongst its terraced gardens, Heriot as usual sought out the Duke of Lennox whom he had heard was now back from the Continent. Ludovick was delighted to see them, made much of Alison, assured them of quarters for the night-but suggested that it might be unwise to seek audience of either James or Anne meantime, for they were having a major quarrel-ostensibly over the old trouble of finance, but all knew that it was really over the insufferable Carr. It was strange how the Queen had shrugged off the succession of earlier favourites but balked so at this one. Later, after the performance, would be the time to see the King. And it would be injudicious to approach Anne, anyway, before Alison had been received by James.

  The Great Hall of Hampton Court, with its mighty extent and hammer-beam roof, made an ideal setting for a play-acting, for the accoustics were good, a minstrels' gallery above the stage, with dual stairways there to add dimension and allow for variety of movement. Such was the size of the place that many more could be accommodated than at the Globe or any other playhouse in England. Tonight, as well as all the two Courts, were present the foreign ambassadors, the high officers of state, the judges, many members of parliament, the Lord Mayor, aldermen and sheriffs of the city and other representative notabilities. After all, this was expressly intended to be a representing of Scotland in a new light -new, at least, to the English-and it was important that the highest placed in England should be left in no doubt as to the significance of it all.

  Lennox found room for the Heriots beside him, in what they felt
to be an embarrassingly prominent position-but which he countered by pointing out that as they were partly responsible for some aspects of the proceedings, it was only suitable that they should be well to the fore. They had a word with Will Shakespeare before the start, who expressed himself as reasonably satisfied with the form the work had taken, with Ben Jonson's scenery and the general arrangements-but was much concerned that the caste were insufficiently expert as yet in the parts and words and would scarce do justice to his dramatic conception

  The royal entrance was delayed, as usual, and the great company, left to entertain itself, was in danger of getting out of hand -as again was not unusual. However, Archie Armstrong, the King's jester, was on hand, and came forth dressed up to represent young Sir Robert Carr and so aped his mannerisms and style to the life that he had the entire audience shouting with laughter and joy-indication of the favourite's unpopularity. When Lennox rather anxiously declared that the good Archie had better take heed, if James got to hear of this, Heriot demurred, remembering what the King had said to him about Carr and his future. He might be none so displeased, since it seemed that it was part of his design that the young man should be unpopular.

  The usual blast of trumpets heralded the monarch and Armstrong scuttled off with every appearance of guilt and alarm- but by a round-about route which kept him in view much longer than need be. James came in, leaning on Carr's shoulder-and the youth was over-dressed exactly as had been the jester, all ribbons, bows and jewels, his long, shapely, silk-clad legs on display right up to the bulge of the genitals and buttocks. Shambling beside him, the King looked the more clumsy, his grotesquely padded clothing tarnished, stained and thrown on anyhow. A couple of yards behind, the Queen stalked, frowning, limping a little with her arthritis, magnificently gowned in somewhat too youthful a fashion for her thirty-five years, the Marchioness of Huntly and the Lady Jean Drummond in attendance.

  When the royal party were settled, Shakespeare himself again appeared before the still-drawn curtains, dressed in the antique armour of a general of the army of King Duncan of Scots, to bow low to King James and declare that it was his own, Master Richard Burbage's and all the King's Players' great honour to present before Their Majesties and all Their Majesties' illustrious guests the tragedy of ancient Scotland and the Ring's own remote ancestors, to be entitled MacBeth. Hail, King of Scotland!

  "Och, man-no' King o' Scotland!" James called out censoriously. "King o' Scots, just I told you before. You maun get the style right mind. It's a different usage, see you."

  The playwright bowed low at this inauspicious start but did not amplify. He signed for the curtains to be opened and disappeared.

  A great clash of noise and flashing of lights broke out forthwith, drums beating and rumbling, cymbals clashing, fireworks banging and blazing-to the extreme apprehension of the monarch, who rose from his seat prepared to bolt for safety. However, the drawn screens revealed that it was only a thunder-storm taking place over a moorland scene, backed by realistic mountains, with a ring of ancient standing-stones the sole occupants of the foreground. Remaining standing until he was sure that all was well, James stared suspiciously. Unless he made the bangs himself, he did not like sudden noises.

  Three weird and ragged hags entered on the scene, bent, mumbling, tangled of hair, all clawing hands, outstretched arms and darting glances, wary as James's own. The thunder fortunately died away.

  "Ha-witches, on my soul!" James cried, into the sudden hush. "Waesucks-right devilish witches, I say! I can aye tell them. Auld, horrid demoniacs. Look there!"

  "None so old, She!" the Earl of Montgomery's voice rang out from nearby. "See the paps of the one to the side-out-thrust nicely. None so old, I swear!"

  "Eh?" The King leaned forward, peering. "I canna just see. Och, I daresay you're right, man Philip. You've the keen eye. Och, well-witches needna be a' that auld, mind. Satan can get at them fell young. I mind one at Dalkeith…"

  "Pray sire, Sire-of a mercy" Queen Anne requested. "Or we shall be here all night" Paddock calls-Anon! Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air!

  So crying, the witches crept away, and the curtains were drawn to again.

  "Short!" James commented loudly. "Aye, maist expeditious. But we're weel quit o' the likes o' them." He sat down, having established his proprietorial interest in the production.

  The scene-shifting was not quite so expeditious, for though there was no lack of manpower, the Yeomen of the Guard, pressed into service, were less expert than were, say, the Globe attendants. The next scene, however, could make use of some of the former fittings, since this was also set in heathland, with the same hill background, a tented camp, with painted pavilions of King Duncan and his Scottish lords. His present Majesty called out identifications of the various heraldic devices shown, dwelling rather on the significance of the Lion Rampant, but also hailing Vicky Stewart to note the red saltire and roses of Lennox.

  "Lord!" the Duke muttered, to Heriot "If we're going to have a royal exposition and commentary on all, Anne's right-we'll be here all night"

  The appearance of Duncan and his sons Malcolm and Donald Ban, certainly brought forth further elucidation, but the arrival of a wounded and blood-stained captain to describe how had gone the battle against the rebellious Donald of the Isles had James cupping his ears to listen intently, quickly becoming absorbed in the story. Exclamations of satisfaction, wonder, enthusiasm and displeasure continued to come from him but nothing so prolonged that he should miss any of the serious speaking-to the relief of all concerned. The entry of the Earl of Ross, to announce another victory of the King's forces in far-away Fife, with Sweno of Norway seeking terms and the treacherous Thane of Cawdor dead, ended the second scene amidst jubilation-especially the declaration that the Norsemen were paying ten thousand dollars damages had James cheering loudly. "Master Will knows his patron!" Heriot whispered.

  The King took the opportunity, while the scenery was again being changed, to dilate upon the relationship of MacBeth and Duncan in distant cousinship, pointing out that his right name was MacBoedhe, or MacBeda and that he had some claim to the throne.

  The curtains aside, they were back on the empty heath again, with some more bad weather and the three witches reappeared- signal for boos and catcalls from the audience who recognised them as fair game, in view of the monarch's well-known disapproval of the species, with enquiries and wagers as to their ages and physical development Not a word they screeched was to be heard.

  The entry of MacBeth himself and his friend Banquo, to James's vehement shushing-who saw audience participation best confined to himself-produced approximate quiet. Richard Burbage played MacBeth, a noble-looking and battle-scarred warrior and Shakespeare himself was Banquo, his friend. With the latter demanding how far it was to Forres, present Majesty intervened with some geographical information and Lennox took the opportunity to ask who on earth was this Banquo? Heriot admitted that he had never heard of such a character. Possibly he was an invention of Shakespeare's own. Or the King's.

  The unfortunate witches therefore again had some difficulty in getting their hailing over, their prophecies anent MacBeth somewhat lost in the general discussion. Montgomery was to be heard declaring that he was not very sure yet where Forres was but if he was this MacBeth, he'd have the plumpest one down in her own heather there and then and Forres could wait

  The exchange between MacBeth and Banquo regarding the Thanes of Glamis and Cawdor went rather above the heads of most listeners, and the scene ended.

  Furniture was clearly being' introduced behind the curtains, during a longer pause, as James announced that he was afraid Master Shakespeare had erred in this of the thanes. MacBeth was Thane of Glamis, yes-but the Celtic thane was a lesser rank to that of Mormaor, and MacBeth was in fact Monnaor of Moray. Some elaboration of the Celtic polity followed, with reminders that the actors should really be speaking the Gaelic, the true language of Heaven and Eden both, as he'd explained one time- b
ut belike most of those present would be none the wiser, belonging to neither the one place nor the other 1

  The scene in Duncan's palace went well, with James concerned that no one should interrupt while a king held the floor. But the change to MacBeth's own castle at Inverness, as Mormaor of Moray, demanded another geography lesson. Moreover Lady MacBeth's appearance drew forth dark allegations from present authority that yon was an ill woman if ever he'd seen one-and he'd seen a few. Though well-bred, mind. You couldn't aye depend on high breeding to produce proper females, like you could with bloodstock horses. If Queen Anne and her courtiers bridled at this sally, the King's own entourage cheered loyally. Scenes five, six and seven, to the end of Act one, therefore, were almost as active off stage as on.

  At the interval, refreshments were brought on for all, largely liquid, James thoughtfully sending a good supply back-stage for the performers-which Lennox for one declared a somewhat rash proceeding-with his compliments that they were doing fine, fine, though he had not yet heard one good Scots voice. Thereafter, gazing about him in fatherly fashion, he espied Heriot and Alison, beside the Duke. Banging his tankard on the arm of his chair, to arouse their attention, he beckoned imperiously.

  Highly embarrassed and reluctant, the pair got to their feet and made their way through the crush to the monarch's side.

  "Aye, Geordie-so you have her, a' safe, sound and whaur she's best kept, atween your legs, heh? Or you between her's. Ooh, aye -and she's looking weel on it!"

  Tight-lipped, Heriot bowed but said nothing. He squeezed Alison's arm comfortingly.

  James did not fail to notice that squeeze. "Husbandly," he approved. "Aye, a kindly conjugality. And how like you married life, Mistress?"