'Sire two embassages have arrived at Falkland, for Your Majesty, misliking each other exceedingly! One is from Her Grace the Queen, your mother. The other from Her Grace Elizabeth of England. I left them nigh at blows!'
'My, my mother…?' James faltered, biting his lip.
'From Elizabeth!' Arran cried. 'An embassage you said, man – not a courier?'
'Sir Thomas Randolph himself – one o' the Queen's ministers.
Yon one who was once ambassador to our Queen Mary. Talking exceeding high and hot.'
Arran glanced sidelong at Patrick.
'And the other? From Queen Mary?' Lennox demanded. How comes it that she can send… that she…?' He paused. 'She is not released? From her prison?'
'I think not,' Logan answered. 'It is Monsoor Nau, Her Highness's secretary. But he has my Lord Herries with him, and a troop o' Catholic Maxwells. They have ridden neck and neck frae Edinburgh – and are no' speaking love to each other!'
'Sire, with your permission, I shall ride fast to Falkland to welcome these, er, notable visitors,' Patrick proposed. 'To see to their entertainment until such time as Your Grace is pleased to receive them,'
'Aye. Very well, Master Patrick…'
'I will come with you,' Arran announced briefly.
'As Chancellor, it is meet, surely, that J should greet the Queen of England's envoy, James,' Lennox put in. 'Ascertain his business…'
'No need,' Arran interrupted. 'I am acquaint with Randolph.'
'I rather feared so…'
'Let us all go, Your Highness,' Patrick said quickly. 'You can outride us all, anyway, I doubt not.'
'Ever the one who minds his mark,' the Lady Marie mentioned, low-voiced to David. 'Observe how much attention poor Queen Mary's embassy receives! I wonder why Arran is so anxious to see the Englishman first?'
David did not put forward any suggestions.
So they all rode hot-foot, without stopping for a meal, down through the miles of woodland to Falkland, that most remotely rural of the royal palaces. James this time did not attempt to outdo his supporters. Always the mention of his mother's name set him in fear and alarm.
In the end, all three contestants for the duty saw the two ambassadors together in the great hall of Falkland, prior to the formal interview with the King – and for makeweight Patrick invited a fourth, his Uncle William, the Treasurer, never now called Greysteil, Lord Ruthven no longer, but Earl of Gowrie, so created by a grateful monarch who still feared the sight and sound of him. William Ruthven was another who had burgeoned and blossomed since the fall of his old colleague Morton; having once chosen the right course, he pursued it single-mindedly, and being the darling of the Kirk and idol of the godly, his nephew found him exceedingly useful on occasion. The fact that neither Lennox nor Arran liked nor trusted him by no means always invalidated his usefulness. As now.
The two ambassadors, with their trains, were already waiting at opposite corners of the hall, eyeing each other like packs of angry dogs, when James's representatives filed in. Immediately there was an unseemly scramble as to which should be first received. Monsieur Nau, small, dapper, excitable, claimed the right as his, as representing the sovereign lady of this realm of Scotland approaching her own son. Sir Thomas Randolph tall, dyspeptic, disapproving, asserted that as representing the reigning Queen of England, he took precedence over all others soever, especially one whose principal was a mere guest of his lady.
Her prisoner, shamefully, monstrously held, you mean, nom de Dieu!' the Frenchman cried.
'Watch your words, sirrah, when you speak of my lady!' Randolph exclaimed.
'Your lady is a…'
'Your Excellencies,' Patrick intervened, smiling. 'My lord Duke of Lennox, my lord Earl of Arran, my lord Earl of Gowrie, and your humble servant, bid you both welcome in the King's name, I am sure that matters of precedence may readily be resolved by receiving you both at the same time. Then…'
'Not so, by the Mass – not so!' Nau contradicted. The Queen of Scots shares place with none, in Scotland!'
"The Queen of Scots is abdicate,' the Earl of Gowrie said brandy. He certainly should have known, for he had been one 'of those who put the abdication papers so forcibly before the hapless Queen at Loch Leven, seventeen years before.
Jamaisl Never!' Nau declared. That was done by force. It is of none avail. My mistress is Queen of Scots, yet'
'Then what is her son, man?' Gowrie demanded.
'He is the Prince James, Her Grace's heir and successor in the thrones of Scotland and England both, and…'
'My God!' Randolph burst out
'Och, you're clean gyte, man!' Gowrie asserted.
'Fool I' Arran muttered. 'Does he take us all for bairns?'
Even Lennox looked alarmed and uneasy, and glanced swiftly along at Patrick.
'Monsieur Nau,' that young man said courteously. 'These are matters for debate, are they not? How are your credentials addressed, may I ask?
'To James, Prince and Duke of Rothesay, from his Sovereign Lady Mary, Queen of Scots,' the other answered promptly.
'Then, Monsieur, I fear that they are in error. I would respectfully advise that you withdraw to yonder chamber and amend them. Amend them, Monsieur to James, by God's grace, King of Scots.'
'Tete Dieu, that I will never do, sir! Never! By Her Grace's command.'
Patrick shrugged one shoulder, sighed, and nodded along the line. Lennox took him up.
'Then, Monsieur Nau, I regret that you cannot be received,' he said firmly. 'It is impossible.'
'But Monsieur… my lord Duke! C'est impropre! The Prince's own mother…!'
'It is impossible,' Lennox repeated. 'If James is not King, then, then… No, no, Monsieur, you leave us no choice. Sir Thomas Randolph, you are accredited to King James, I take it?
'Naturally, Your Grace.'
Lennox bowed. Nobody in Scotland had yet been brought to term him Your Grace, which here was awarded only to the monarch or his regent 'And have you aught that you would say, h'm, privately, before you see His Highness?'
'No, sir.'..
'Very well.' Lennox signed to the hastily summoned herald, who threw open the double doors and cried,
'His Excellency the Ambassador of Her Grace of England, to the high and mighty James, King of this Realm and of the Scots. God save the King!'
'You failed the Queen – Queen Mary,' David repeated heavily, stubbornly. 'The Queen whose cause you came to uphold -and for which you have received moneys in plenty! Failed her just as surely and as openly as though you had slapped her face!'
'Tush, man, I told you! Do you not see? I could do no other. She is foolish, headstrong, the beautiful Mary – always has been. To have accredited her envoy only to Prince James… for us to have accepted that, in front of the English Ambassador, would have been to accept her as sovereign still, and her son as no King. And if he is not King, then nothing that has been done or signed in his name since his crowning is lawful and true. I am not of the Privy Council, Lennox is no duke, Arran no earl!' That would signify little – but what of greater affairs? What would the Kirk say? What would Elizabeth say?'
'I have not thought, of late, that you cared deeply what the Kirk said, Patrick! And should Elizabeth of England shape Scotland's policies!?'
'Lord, but she does, man! There's the rub -she does. So long as she holds in her hand the gift of the succession to the English throne, with Mary and James as the first heirs, so long can she take a part in shaping Scotland's policy. There is no avoiding it'
'Tell me, Patrick,' his brother said quietly, deliberately. 'Would you rather see James on Elizabeth's throne, and you, his minister, wielding the power of England – or Mary released from her bondage and back in her own country as the Queen she rightly is?'
Patrick frowned – and he did not often frown. The brothers were standing on the parapet-walk outside Patrick's room in the south round tower of Falkland, on the evening of the ambassadors' arrival. 'Fiend take you, Davy – that is no question
! You talk nonsense. I am pledged to the Queen's interests – but her best interests, not such folly as this. Besides,' he laughed again, 'I see Elizabeth's cunning hand in all this, anyway!'
'Elizabeth…?'
'Aye. Elizabeth's hand. Or the heads of her two minions, Burleigh and Walsingham, the two cleverest brains in Christendom! How think you Monsieur Nau comes here in open embassage? Hitherto, Mary has been able to send to her son only letters smuggled secretly out of Sheffield Castle, these thirteen years. But now her secretary is permitted to leave her openly, to travel to Scotland Elizabeth knew what his errand was, that is why – and wished it accomplished, I swear.'
'M'mmm. And you know what that errand was?'
'Aye. I saw Nau later, privately – and soothed him somewhat
Though he is not to see the King – that we cannot permit He has come to propose an Association – a sharing of the Crown between Mary and her son. That they should rule as King and Queen together – or rather, as Queen and King, for she will grant the honour and be the senior.'
'As is only right and proper,' David said 'An excellent purpose, I would say.'
'Aye,' his brother commented dryly. 'I daresay you would!'
'But… what of the religious differences? What is purposed there?'
'That the Kirk remains supreme, with James as its head as now. But that Mary remains Catholic, and there shall be full freedom of worship.'
'As there should be. Surely these are good proposals – if Elizabeth can be made to release the Queen. You say that you think that Elizabeth knows of this, and would have it so?'
'I did not say that – quite. Knows, yes, I think – and would have Scotland consider and desire it So, heigho – she sends Randolph at the same time, threatening war!'
'Eh…? War, do you say? War with England?'
'Just that Such is Randolph's embassy. Threats of war, fierce railing over Morton's death, thunderings of vengeance. She does not like losing money, does Elizabeth – and she invested much in Morton, I fear!'
David shook his head. 'I do not understand. You have just said… How can she both approve of Nau's errand, and also threaten us with war?'
'We are dealing with clever folk, Davey – folk who understand statecraft as yon tranter down there understands falconry. They want James, and Scotland, to grasp at this Association with Mary, and the threats of war are to frighten him into doing it'
'But why?'
'Why does Elizabeth hold Mary prisoner?For a good purpose, you may be sure – all that woman does is for good reason. It is to have a hold over Scotland. To prevent Scotland joining her ancient ally, France, or Spain either, against England. Her nightmare – Burleigh's nightmare – is a war on two fronts: Scotland in the north and France in the south. This proposed Association would play into her hands, so long as she holds Mary. Scotland would want something from her, must woo her, to get Mary back. She would dangle promises before us, and the hope of the ultimate succession – but that is all Mary she will hold on to – and Scotland will not align herself with France. We beg our Queen back from her, and while we beg, Elizabeth and England are safe.'
'What then if we made the war? To get our Queen back.'
'Elizabeth is no fool, Davy. And she is well served with spies. She knows that we are in no case to invade England. We could mount a sally over the Border, yes – in conjuntion with a French invasion across the narrow seas and perhaps a Spanish attack from the Low Countries and Ireland. But war, by ourselves, no. And would not the first Scot to fall be Mary the Queen?'
David shook his head. 'It is too deep, too murky for me,' hedeclared. 'Who may resolve such a tangle, the de'il knows!'
Patrick bowed mockingly. 'Why, your younger brother may, Davy!' he said, smiling, 'if only Esme Stuart will keep his meddling fingers out of it, and the gallant Arran confine his undoubted abilities to his bedchamber…and if perhaps Davy Gray does not carp and cavil quite so determinedly!'
'You… you would set yourself up against Elizabeth of England? And Burleigh and Walsingham? At your years, Patrick?'
'Why not? What have years to do with it? In such a case, a clear.head, a nimble wit and a sure goal are worth many grey hairs!'
'And you believe that you have all these in sufficiency?' 'Thanks to God – and none at all, I think, to our esteemed father – yes! Have I failed hitherto?' 'Failed… whom?'
The two looked each other directly in the eye. – 'I think that you can be too nice, too delicate, brother!' Patrick said softly.
'And I that you can be too clever… and too much forsworn!'
'So-o-o!' Then, at the least, we know where we stand, Davy. I thank you for all your somewhat negative advice. Meanwhile, I fear, we must send the ambassadors home – both of them…'
'Saying…?'
'Ah, me – Nau telling his mistress that King James will consider her proposals fully, dutifully, and, h'm, at length. And Randolph, Randolph telling his that we shall do no such thing, that James alone rules Scotland, and that his mother is very well where she is… and that threats of war ill become so gracious a princess – who dares not carry them out anyway!'
'So it is out, damn you, Patrick – you admit it! Mary is very well where she is! There is our Queen's doom pronounced!'
'To your mind, it may be. To mine, it is the speediest way to win her home – if Elizabeth thinks that we do not want her. Go sleep on it, man!'
Chapter Fourteen
THREE people strolled by the sylvan banks of the River Eden, the noise of the chase long lost in the far-flung woodlands. Only the sounds of the forest were there; the river gurgled and chuckled, the finches chirped, cuckoos called hauntingly, endlessly, from far and near, and now and again a mallard duck would go quacking off in over-done alarm, seeking to draw attention away from her brood. For it was Spring again, the late and lovely short Spring of Scotland, and King James had returned to his beloved Falkland, where, even though the stags were not yet out of velvet, none could say that the King must not hunt them.
Of the three strollers, only David Gray, leading the horses, appeared ill at ease. The other two sauntered on ahead in apparent content – but only a very little way ahead, for the Lady Marie kept hanging back to include David in the desultory conversation. Nor did Patrick give any sign that he was otherwise minded, laughing, humming snatches of song, rallying them both, at his gayest, most relaxed, most charming.
David realised now, however, that Patrick had deliberately contrived this interlude – and presumably not for his benefit -urging Marie Stewart to take a shortcut with him to head off the stag, away from the main hunt, but soon finding themselves at the river and slowing down unhurriedly to proceed thus along its banks, dismounted. David had automatically followed his brother, since that seemed to be his destiny. Now he could have wished himself elsewhere, for he enjoyed acting neither groom nor gooseberry – though neither of the others gave the least indication that they considered him as such; indeed, it might well be that Marie was glad enough of his presence.
The three of them bore a strange relationship. Marie and David were now very good friends in their rather difficult situation, understanding and trusting each other, looking at many things in the same way. With Patrick the young woman was very different – provocative, highly critical, often downright unkind. Yet her interest in him was as undisguised as her frequent hostility. As for Patrick himself, he had pursued her in a casual and intermittent sort of way since that first meeting
at Holyroodhouse,without letting it interfere with more urgent conquests or politic wooings. Something always seemed to bring him back to her – perhaps the feet that she refused to succumb to his wiles. David, for his part, recognised that she could be an excellent influence with Patrick, but liked her too well to wish to see her just another of his brother's playthings.
A faint call, rather different from that of the cuckoos, reached them from afar – the winding of a hunting-horn.
'Another kill,' the Lady Marie observed. 'Majesty is in
satiable for blood. I suppose that we should be thankful that it is only deer's blood. Myself, I quickly have enough of it!'
'Aye, men's blood may come later!' Patrick said. 'James, God help him, has much to wipe out in his twisted mind. Kings often do such, bloodily.'
He is a strange youth,' she agreed, lie could scarce be otherwise. He will not thank us for deserting his beloved chase.'
'There are better things to chase than out-of-season deer!'
'Meaning, sir?'
'Meaning that the company of a beautiful woman is to me the more potent lure.'
'I have noticed that,' she said coolly. 'Many times.'
Do you condemn me for that, Marie? In every sport does not practice make for perfection?'
'A comfort for those practised upon!' she returned. Like the King's poor stags!'
Patrick shook his dark head over her, ruefully. 'She has a curst quick tongue, has she not, Davy? She speaks you a deal more pleasantly, I've noted! How do you do it?'
'Davy does not practise on me. Or on every other woman that he sets eyes on!'
'I should say not! He has no need, you see. For our Davy is a practised galliard already. He has a most faithful wife… and two bairns born most undoubtedly in holy wedlock! Eh, Davy?'
'And you? You have the Lady Elizabeth Gray, once Lyon, have you not?'
A shadow, like a tiny cloud passing over the sun, darkened Patrick's face – but only for a moment 'Have is scarce the word, I think,' he answered, lightly. 'A marriage to a painted picture or a marble statue would reward as well! I have not so much spoken to her for three years.'
'Yet she is your wife.'
'Wife! Is that a wife? Does marriage mean so much to the daughter of Robert Stewart!'
Steadily she looked at him. 'I wondered when that would out,' she said.
Patrick bit his lip. 'I am sorry,' he declared. 'That was ill said. Unworthy.. You – you cause me to act the fool, always. It is those grey steadfast eyes of yours, I think. Accusing. So like Davy's. Always accusing. Christ God-you make a pair I It is not that…' He stopped. 'But why do I babble so – to you?' Neither of them answered him.
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