The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  "The Prince Henry is at the hurly-hackit ower the hill, yonder," a thin but strangely forceful voice declared. "It will tak a whilie to fetch him, y'Grace."

  "Then do so. At once. And meantime, open to me. I shall no longer wait here like some beggar at your door. Open. Do you understand, Countess ?"

  "If Your Grace will show me a paper, signed by the King, ordering that I do so, I'll no' refuse, Highness."

  "How dare you make conditions to your Queen I Obey my royal commands."

  "I dare fine. For, lacking my son, I take instructions only frae the King's Grace, Madam. And his commands are right explicit. Without his written orders, signed and sealed, I deliver the Prince to nonesoever. And none sets foot ower the brig o' this castle!"

  "But... I am the boy's mother 1" Anne all but wailed.

  "His Grace kens that I hae nae doubt!"

  "This is outrage...!"

  "Countess Mar," Linlithgow interjected, "I have the same commission from His Grace. To keep and guard the Princess Elizabeth. But I do not keep her hidden from her royal mother. Nor does the Chancellor, Prince Charles. Here is the Princess."

  "Maybe so, Livingstone. You ken your orders, I ken mine. But my laddie's the heir. You'll admit there's a difference."

  The Queen and Heriot exchanged glances.

  "With His Grace in England, Her Grace has the supreme authority in Scotland, woman!"

  "No' to overturn King Jamie's commands."

  George Heriot took a hand. "I am the King's goldsmith, Heriot, Countess," he called. "I have come straight from His Grace. At York. He sent me to ensure that the Queen and his family were well, and having no troubles. To help prepare them for their journey to London. His Grace said naught of keeping the Queen and her children apart. Indeed he intended otherwise, I swear."

  "Sweer awa', mannie—but did he gie you a writing for me, to deliver up his son?"

  "No. But His Grace told me to see well to them all. I cannot do that while you keep this Prince hidden away. He said..."

  "Aye, he said! Or you say he said! I need mair than that. Aye, and I need mair than any goldsmith to come to me changing the King's express commands."

  "It is of no avail!" the Queen cried. "The old witch is beyond all reason. It is insufferable..."

  Despairingly Heriot tried one last throw. "Countess—His Grace gave me fullest authority to spend all necessary moneys on the Queen and her family's behalf. My purse, therefore is . . . not short! If anything is required, for the Prince's welfare, or in discharge of outlays here—I can deal with it..."

  "God's death—would you try to buy me, Annabel Mar, you huckstering httle shopkeeper!" the old woman shrilled. "Get out o' my sight before I hae my guards pistol you like an insolent scullion!"

  Strangely enough, George Heriot bowed from the saddle. "I apologise, Countess," he said. "I should not have said that"

  Alison Primrose actually clapped her hands—although her royal mistress looked less than approving.

  "I will have no more of this," Anne declared. "That I, the Queen, should be repulsed and insulted, kept out of a royal castle, by this woman! She will suffer for it—that I vow before God ! We go. At once. I will not stay here another moment"

  'The boy, Highness? The Prince, your son? Do you not wait for him?" Linlithgow asked.

  "Yes—let us wait for Henry," the Princess Elizabeth cried.

  "Frederick!" her mother said sharply. "Frederick Henry, child." She set her long chin obstinately. "No. I will wait no longer at this door, like a beggar. To be mocked by this she-devil. Sir Harry— we return to Linhthgow."

  * * *

  George Heriot was summoned to the royal bedchamber again that night, the Queen having retired, prostrate, on return from Stirling. He found her recovered somewhat, but very angry.

  "What do we do now, sir ?" she demanded of him, before he was fully into the room "It was on your advice I went to Stirling— to be defied and insulted. Have you any more, and better, advice forme?"

  'The situation is difficult, Your Grace—but no worse than it was," he told her soothingly. "In the strongest fortress in the realm we cannot force the Countess to yield up the Prince. But then, neither can the Master of Gray! All depends on whether or no Lady Mar is in this plot of his. If she is not, then matters may be none so ill. For your son could scarcely be anywhere safer than in Stirling Castle, with that dragon guarding him."

  "She will be in it, the horrible creature! The plot. She hates me!"

  "I am less sure, Highness. Whether she hates you is scarce to the point, in this. What is to the point is—has she turned against the King ? She did not sound so. And she has always loved him like a mother—a fierce mother, but still loved him..."

  "What of it? I want my son"

  "To be sure. But Your Grace has managed without him all these years. A week or two more will not try you too sternly. What is important is that the boy does not fall into the hands of the Master of Gray and his friends. To the King's grievous hurt And your own. If the Countess of Mar is not in the Master's plot and can remain proof against his pressings and blandishments—then the Prince is probably safer with her than even with Your Grace here. This is no fortress. Nor is any other royal palace you might go to. You perceive my point ?"

  "I perceive that you said nothing of this yesterday, sir, when you urged me to go to get Henry!"

  'True. Perhaps I had thought insufficiently deeply myself. But we had to find out whether or no Lady Mar was in the plot. For myself, I do not now think she is."

  "Why are you so sure? I believe that you have conceived some shameful liking for the evil old bitch! You .. . you begged her pardon! When she had spat on me, your Queen!"

  "Only in that I had made suggestion that she might be bribed. That was a mistake. Let us be glad that she cannot, it seems."

  "Why think you she is not in Gray's pocket?" That was the Marchioness of Huntly, pale shadow of the Queen.

  "I am not sure. But she did not speak and act as I think she would have done had she been concealing complicity. She made overmuch of the King's authority, for one about to throw it off. I believe she is still loyal to His Grace. Whether she remains so or not is another matter. Depending on the Master's . .. inducements."

  There was silence in the over-heated chamber. The Queen dropped her head into her hands. "Is there nothing, nothing, that we can do ?" she wailed.

  'Two things, I think, Madam. We must send an immediate letter to His Grace, telling him of the plot and requesting written authority to release the Prince. As indeed Lady Mar said ..."

  "He will never give it. He is a cruel, unnatural man 1 He does not want me to have my son."

  "He will not refuse you at the cost of his Scots throne, I think. I shall write also. He commanded me to keep him informed." He could scarcely say that James would pay more attention to his plea than to the Queen's.

  "And the other? You said, two things."

  "That I might go again to Stirling. Myself. Alone, to see the Countess privily. Perhaps she would see me, hear me..."

  "Go deal with her ? My enemy 1 Behind my back!"

  "Scarce that, Highness, surely. Rather to test her. Discover if she knows of the plot. Warn her, if she does not, and seems against it"

  "I will not have you having secret talks with that woman! Discussing me and my husband and son. I will not !"

  "If you do not trust me, Highness, send one of your ladies with me. Lady Huntly, here..."

  "I will not have any dealing with that she-devil," that lady declared.

  'Then another. Merely to accompany me." "Not the Duchess, on my soul !"

  "No. That might be unwise. The young woman Primrose, perhaps ? She would not seem to rival Lady Mar in status, yet could represent Your Grace well enough. It could do no harm, and might achieve something. While we wait for the King's authority. We might even have word with the Prince..."

  That same night an officer of the Queen's guard, with one of Heriot's grooms, set off for the South, with inst
ructions not to spare themselves, or horseflesh, in getting their letters to the King with all speed. The other groom rode with them as far as Edinburgh, with a message for Mary Gray. And in the morning, their master, with Alison Primrose, headed westwards once more for Stirling at the crossing of Forth.

  It was extraordinary how different was their reception from the previous day's. The castle drawbridge was down, and although it was strongly guarded and could have been raised at short notice, a single man and woman represented no threat They were civilly received and a messenger sent to inform the Countess of their identity.

  With no undue delay they were conducted up from the gatehouse to a wing of the palace building on the crown of the rock, where in a small, bright room in a tower they found Annabel of Mar hunched over a fire. Close up, and in the cold morning light, she looked a very old and frail woman.

  "Well, Master Heriot 1 You are a bold man, I think, to return thus to Stirling ! And who is this slip of a lassie you have brought to support you against an auld done woman?"

  "She is one of the Queen's Maids-in-Waiting, Countess. And I need all the support I can get!"

  "Say you so, goldsmith? Perhaps you speak truth. You havena come offering me more o' your Edinburgh gold today, I'm thinking?"

  "No. That was badly done. A man may make one mistake, may he not?" "With me, only one, sirrah."

  "He made apology, Lady Mar. Not all men would have done that," Alison Primrose said. "Nor required to, since gold speaks loudly!"

  "Ho—so that's the style o' you, minx! The Queen's service must have changed since my day! Aye, then, goldsmith—to what do I owe this courtesy ? No' love on Queen Anne's part, I wager."

  "It is more on the King's behalf that I come, than the Queen's," Heriot said carefully. "His Grace was uneasy in his mind, and sent me North. I have discovered, with some reason."

  "So ? But it was his goldsmith that he sent North. Not one o' his Council, or lords. Such as my son. So I'm thinking that His Grace wasna just sae greatly concerned."

  "I agree that he might have sent a more, er, resounding servant had he known what I now know."

  "Come man—no riddles. I am ower auld for suchlike. Out with

  it. What have you come for ? "

  "Seeking the safety of Prince Henry, Countess. That is what."

  "Prince Henry is very safe in Stirling Castle." The old woman leaned forward. "Was King Jamie concerned about that? In England ? Has he been hearing stories ?"

  'Perhaps His Court ever seethes with rumours, as your ladyship well knows. And you? Have you been hearing stories?"

  "What stories would I hear, up on this bit rock halfway to heaven?"

  "I should think plenty. At Stirling. Where all men must come to cross Forth. And only thirty-five miles from Edinburgh—where stories start!"

  'You'll need to be mair explicit, man. A deal mair explicit." It was not difficult to see where King James had picked up his fashion of speech.

  "Very well. But I think that you will know of what I speak. There is a plot to take Prince Henry and declare him King of Scots. In room of his royal father. On the pretext that the King has deserted his Scottish kingdom for another."

  She considered him steadily, from beady eyes. "You tell me so? And does King Jamie know o' this supposed fell plot?"

  "I think not. Not yet But... I have little doubts that you did, Lady."

  She made no answer.

  "It is a damnable plot. And might well succeed."

  "Not while I hold the laddie here in Stirling Castle, goldsmith."

  He fingered his little beard thoughtfully.

  "Perhaps that is why the Countess would not yield the Prince up yesterday." Alison Primrose put in, smiling. "Perhaps she believes the Queen also to be in this plot!"

  They both stared at her.

  "Insolent jade!" the old woman said, but as it were automatically, without vehemence.

  "Her ladyship would not think that!" Heriot declared, frowning-

  "Would she no'?" the Countess snapped swiftly. "I've heard stranger ploys. All ken Anne cares little for her husband. Her sire, in yon Denmark, was a tyrant. She has the same spirit in her, I swear, the woman. She would perhaps prefer to be mother o' a powerless king who would do her will, than wife o' one who will not!"

  "But..." The man floundered. "You do not truly believe that? That the Queen, in child again, could plot to bring down her own husband 1"

  "Mary did—James's mother."

  Such a thought had just never occurred to George Heriot. Quite shaken for a moment, he groped in his mind. Then he shook his head.

  "No. This is folly. The Queen desires only to win back her children into her own care, have this new baby, and then rejoin her husband in London. She is appalled by word of this plot"

  Annabel of Mar said nothing.

  "How do you see it, lady? This conspiracy."

  "I see it as wholly evil," the old woman said. "And moreover, highest treason. Men should hang for this."

  Heriot tried to swallow a sigh of relief. "Then... then you will yield up the boy to none? Until the King commands it, in writing?"

  "None—the Queen, or other." The Countess hesitated. "Save for my son, to be sure. My Lord of Mar. He is the Prince's lawful guardian, no' myself. I but hold the laddie and castle in his name."

  Heriot's intaken breath this time was scarcely of relief. "The Earl's loyalty... is not in doubt," he got out.

  "I thank you for the expression o' confidence, goldsmith!"

  "I but meant, ladyship, that the Prince therefore is in no true danger. Since only the King and the Earl can win into this great fortress without breaking the walls down with cannon. Which even the Master of Gray, I think would scarce contemplate."

  "That popinjay!"

  "He is no popinjay, Countess—but the most dangerous man in two kingdoms. Not to be underestimated." He paused, and considered the other speculatively. "See you, Countess—here is a thought. The Queen's main desire, I know, is to be with her firstborn, the Prince Henry. She pines for him. This castle is a royal palace. She has as much right to be here as at Linlithgow or Holy-roodhouse. I know that you do not greatly love her, nor she you. But if she was here, biding in this castle with the Prince, she would be better and the King's cause nothing weakened."

  "Have her here I Under my feet 1 That that. .." Looking at the Primrose girl, Lady Mar all but choked. "No, sir!" she croaked.

  "Could you deny her ? If she asked. You will not deny that this is a royal castle—not an Erskine one? You but keep it for the Crown. If the Queen were to demand to stay in one of her husband's houses—as distinct from you yielding up the Prince—could you refuse?"

  "Share the same house wi' me? God's death, young man—hae you taken leave o' your wits?"

  "That was not my question, Countess. Could you deny admission?"

  The other gulped in her scrawny throat. "I'll answer that, goldsmith, when I see Anne o' Holstein come chapping at my door seeking lodging! No' before."

  'That means you would, and must, admit her, I think."

  "She'd never come."

  "Perhaps not But it would solve some problems. And the King would be relieved, I swear, to have both wife and son—and possibly the other bairns also—under the eye of one whom he can trust absolutely. Yourself."

  "Do not seek to cozen me with such syrup, man. I'm ower auld for that!"

  "It would also save His Grace the cost of keeping another palace open. Linlithgow. For the lying-in. And he might prefer to have his fourth child borne in his major Scots citadel."

  At these shrewd thrusts the other glowered. Then adruptly she rose to her feet, small but imperious. "We have other matters to attend to, goldsmith. You shall be conducted to your horses."

  'To be sure. We thank you for your courtesy of this meeting. But—would it be possible for us to see the Prince? For but a moment. That we may inform his royal mother as to how he seemed."

  "The laddie's well. Nothing wrong wi' him."

&n
bsp; "We do not doubt that you cherish him well, Countess. But no harm in seeing him. To reassure Her Grace."

  Muttering something, the old woman stalked stiffly to the door and out. Exchanging glances, the visitors followed.

  They did not have far to go. At only the third doorway along the vaulted corridor the Countess turned in, and there was a nine year-old boy sitting at a table with a young man, at books and papers. The Prince was tall for his age, well-formed and good-looking, delicately featured and mtelhgent-seeming. Getting down, from his chair he ran to the old woman, remembered his manners sufficiently to halt and bow gravely to the two strangers, and then went to take the Countess's hand.

  "Here is Master Heriot, the King your father's jeweller, Henry," she said. "And one o' the Queen's ladies." There was something of a sniff about that. "Make your duties to them, lad."

  "A good day to you, sir. A good day to you, Mistress. I hope that I see you well." And, in a different voice: "Master Andrew says that my Latin is better today."

  "Aye, that'll please your royal father, lad. Master Heriot left him but a day or two agone."

  "My royal father is well, sir?"

  "Indeed yes, Highness. He sent you his affectionate greetings." That was not precisely a fact, but would bear saying.

  "Your royal mother the Queen also sends her fond greetings," Alison Primrose added.

  ‘I thank you, Mistress. And my royal mother. Is she also well ?" He still clutched the Countess's hand.

  "Well, Highness. And... and not far away."

  "I do not like Latin much. But Master Andrew says that it is important"

  "Yes. The King is a great Latin scholar."

  "Greek also, sir. And French. And Spanish. Hebrew also. But ... he does not know Danish, I think."

  "H'rr'mm. Perhaps not..."

  "Back to your lessons, then, lad." Annabel of Mar gave him a little pat on the head before pushing him gently towards the table. The visitors bowed themselves out