The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  "Ha—Geordie!" The Duke took the wine, and gulped a mouthful of it "I thank you. Good to see you. Am I, am I in time? The Queen... ?"

  The other nodded.

  "And the Prince? And the Master?" "Nothing yet."

  "Thank God! We have killed a dozen horses on our way North."

  "Dear Vicky!" Mary murmured. "All but killed yourself, I think! James would not come ?"

  "No. Did you ever believe that he would? Nothing will turn him back now. I left him at Theobalds, Sir Robert Cecil's house at Hertford. That is the Secretary of State. But a dozen miles out of London. But there is a plague in the city. He will not enter it. He makes for Greenwich, down Thames."

  "And have you all necessary authority?"

  "The fullest the King could give me. All powers as Viceroy. To see to the Queen. To collect his children. And to conduct them to England just as soon as Anne is able to traveL"

  "Authority in writing ?"

  He nodded. "Signed and sealed, my dear. At this moment, I am as good as King in Scotland! Where is your father, Mary Lass?"

  "With the Hamiltons, at Kinneil, but three miles away."

  "He will know of my arrival here within the hour, then. It would not be beyond him to ride forthwith to Stirling. Tonight With Mar, or to Mar. As a last throw. To try to take the Prince. Before I can act."

  "My thoughts entirely," Heriot agreed.

  "Where is Mar? I do not trust him—never have. At Stirling?" "He went there, yes. But is now back at Kinneil with my father."

  Ludovick nodded, and sighed. "It looks as though I must needs go riding again. Twenty more miles. To Stirling.' "Oh, Vicky!"

  "No need," Heriot asserted. "I shall go. Give me a letter. To the Countess. Ordering her, in the King's name, not to give up the Prince to any, even her own son, under pain of highest treason. Till you come tomorrow. She is a dragon, yes—but with her own honesty. And loyal to King James. She will listen to me, I think—with that authority."

  'Very well."

  And so, next afternoon, when the King's Viceroy arrived at Stirling Castle, with a great train of nobles, gentry and men-at-arms, the drawbridge was down and at the bridge-end George Heriot stood beside the Dowager Countess of Mar, the Prince Henry and the captain of the guard, to welcome him. Heriot was surprised, to say the least of it, to see the Master of Gray, all gallantry and smiles, close behind the Duke, with the Earl of Mar, less smiling—but then that man seldom smiled, though he could guffaw on occasion. Lord Fyvie was also there; but so were Mary Gray, the Duchess of Lennox, the Earl of Linlithgow and other members of the Queen's household. It was a resplendent company for a notable occasion.

  Heriot's rather alarmed glance sought Mary's. She nodded reassuringly.

  Considering all the previous contentions and difficulties, everything now went with almost ridiculous smoothness, as though well rehearsed. Trumpeters blew a flourish, the Lord Lyon King of Arms in his gorgeous tabard read out the style and titles of the illustrious Duke of Lennox and declared his viceregal status, and the entire duty of all in the realm, high and low, noble and common, to put themselves under the authority and rule of the said Duke as they would of the King's Grace himself—and held up an impressive parchment with the royal signature and dangling Privy Seal of Scotland as proof. The Master of Gray led the subsequent cheering. Then Ludovick quietly but firmly declared that he had come, on His Grace's express command, to take over the custody and guardianship of Prince Henry Frederick, Duke of Rothesay and heir to the thrones of Scotland, England, Ireland and France, with the Principality of Wales, from the devoted and excellent keeping of the Countess of Mar, acting for her son, John, Earl of Mar here present, Hereditary Keeper of the royal castle and citadel of Stirling, preparatory to his, and Her Grace Queen Anne's departure for London just so soon as Her Grace was fit for the journey. "God Save the King!"

  When the second round of cheering was over, the Duke dismounted and went to greet the Prince on bended knee, followed by the Chancellor and other great nobles in order of precedence, the Master of Gray coming modestly a long way down the list as mere eldest son of the fifth Lord Gray. This over, and taking the shy boy's hand in his own, Ludovick Stewart held up his other hand and announced that he himself would meantime take up his residence in this castle of Stirling, with the Prince, until the Queen's illness was abated—which, God willing, would not now be long delayed. The trumpeters then blew another fanfare, and Lyon declared that there would be refreshment for all—in the Great Hall for the nobility and gentry, in the inner courtyard for all the others—and pointed to the train of sumpter-horses behind. The cheering developed a new note.

  As the entire great company surged on foot up the hill, within the outer ramparts, to the central citadel of the most closely guarded and inviolate fortress in Scotland, almost in wonder, Heriot, well back from the leaders now, found his way to Mary Gray's side.

  "The Master?" he demanded. "He has changed his tune, i' faith 1 Is it some new device ? To deceive us ?"

  "He will deceive us, yes—if he can. But I do not think this to be some ginning new trick. My father has many admirable qualities. One of them is to recognise clearly and swiftly when a tide has turned against him. He does not then waste his time and talents in fruitless pursuit of a lost cause. But promptly acknowledges the position and seeks to make the best of it, to steer it his way if he may. Patrick is no small man—or rogue!"

  "So you think that we have won? That the plot is abandoned?"

  "Meantime, yes. Only postponed, perhaps. Vicky staying here in the castle will make it impossible for Patrick to contrive anything before the Queen is ready to travel. He will, of course, laugh to scorn any suggestion that there ever was a plot. But that matters nothing, so long as it has failed."

  "And the Master goes unscathed?"

  "Why, yes. He would not be the Master, otherwise"

  "And you would not be his daughter"

  "Perhaps. I seek to bring to naught his wicked acts—not the man himself."

  "You are fortunate in being able so clearly to distinguish one from the other!"

  "You blame me? Judge me at fault in this? He is my own flesh and blood." She sounded as though the man's judgment was important to her.

  "The good God knows ! I do not. What you are saying is that you wish me to go no further in the matter ? With the King, or elsewhere?"

  "No. Not if you so wish. But I trunk you would find it... difficult. The King will want to hear no more of it, I swear. He is almost as clever as Patrick, you see. He will know when enough is enough. Besides, there will be no proof—Patrick will ensure that no least hint or whisper to link him with any plot. It could all have been conjecture, could it not? A figment of a woman's foolish imaginings?"

  He stared at her, there in the crowd, for a moment, and then smiled. "I pray heaven that I may never fall foul of both Grays at the one time 1" he said.

  In the Hall, with the Duchess present, Mary kept away from the Duke's side and stayed mainly with Heriot. It was not long before her father found his way to them.

  "Well, Master Geordie," he said, "This is a happier occasion than at our last meeting. I am only sorry that Her Grace cannot be here. The young Prince is a pleasing child. Good that they will so soon be together again, is it not?"

  Heriot was speechless.

  'You confuse Master Heriot, Patrick," his daughter said calmly. "We cannot all have your... agility!"

  "No? I think our friend has his own agility, my dear. Never underestimate quiet, slow-spoken men. What but agility would you name his dash to Stirling here, last night, immediately on Vicky's arrival at Linlithgow? I wonder why he deemed it advisable?"

  "Perhaps he feared some plot?"

  "Plot ? Plots are a thing of the past, Mary. It was James who smelled plots under every bed. Extraordinary ! Now he is gone, we can forget such childish ploys. It is London's turn 1" He shrugged. "But I believe that I know why our friend here made his so urgent dash."

  "I dare swear you do
1" Heriot agreed firmly.

  "Yes. You came because you believed that old Lady Mar might not be prepared to yield up the boy to the Duke. Without some small, h'm, sweetening, shall we say ? And so you hurried. And need not have troubled, Master Geordie. For I had already done it for you. Through Johnnie Mar. Knowing that Vicky was coming.

  A duplication of effort, friend. You should have conferred with me."

  "I could describe the situation otherwise, sir!" the other man said shortly. "You say that you knew the Duke of Lennox was coming?"

  "Why, yes. We wrote to James. At least, I prevailed on Fyvie to do so, for His odd Grace is in no state of mind to pay heed to me, at present, I fear. Wrote immediately after the Queen refused to allow the Prince to be bought to her at Linlithgow urging the King to send up Vicky at once in view of the Queen's severe illness and the possibility of a dynastic crisis. Happily His Grace heeded—though not sufficiently to come himself, of course!" He raised his glance. "Now I see the Duchess Jean hungrily seeking whom she may devour. Vicky neglects her shamefully, do you not agree? I shall go placate her, if I may."

  As the shapely and assured back moved away from them through the throng, Mary and Heriot eyed each other. And gradually a kind of bemusement gave way to mutual smiles, smiles which grew and broadened to silent laughter.

  * * *

  It was three weeks later that the royal train entered Edinburgh's West Port to the reverberations of the castle's cannon and the congratulations of the city's Provost and magistrates. The Queen, pale but astonishingly vivacious, sat up in her litter and bowed and waved graciously, Prince Henry and Princess Elizabeth a horse at either side of her—young Charles left behind at Dunfermline with one of his recurring chest troubles. The colourful bevy of the Queen's ladies rode immediately behind, followed by Lennox, the Chancellor and other nobles—but not Mar, whom the Queen still would on no account have anywhere near her. The Master of Gray was there, however, indeed had arranged the entire progress, the mounted musicians and choirs which accompanied it, the tableaux and addresses of loyalty and welcome en route, the excellent commissariat. Even the Queen unbent sufficiently towards him to smile in his direction, devil or none, and admit that he made an excellent master of ceremonies.

  George Heriot was not in the royal train this time—although he was not far away. With the Queen's affairs now all safely in Lennox's hands he had left Linlithgow a week earlier for Edinburgh to look to his own affairs—and not before time. His half-brother James Heriot was industrious, honest and efficient, but rather lacked the imagination and instinct necessary for really successful dealings with the nobility and aristocracy, where judgment, tact and yet a kind of ruthlessness, were absolutely essential. The move to London, temporary or permanent, on the part of so many of their clients, was making enormous demands on the Heriot's finances, as noble families sought to equip, clothe and adorn themselves to compete at the richer English Court, pay for their long journey, and buy or lease houses in London. A great tide of Scots was flowing southwards, hopeful of making fortunes—but they had to be staked; and the Heriots were themselves having to borrow money on every hand, at high rates of interest, to be able to lend it again at still higher. Disaster could strike so very easily if judgment failed and money was lent to the wrong borrowers. Land, of course, was the great security; and Jmglin' Geordie was in process of becoming one of the great landowners of Lowland Scotland, more by accident than design.

  Heriot was waiting at the West Port, behind the Provost and Council—one of whom was brother James, representing the Incorporation of Goldsmiths and Hammermen. Mary Gray spotted him while the address of welcome was going on, and with tableaux to follow and prolonged delay inevitable, dismounted and slipped from her place at the Master's side—she would not ride with Ludovick, of course, the Duchess being present.

  "So, Geordie," she greeted, "you came to watch the show. It is good to see you." She had to shout to be heard above the bombilation of the cannon-fire from the castle directly above.

  "And you. You are the fairest thing I have seen in seven days I"

  "Tut—Geordie Heriot essaying flattery. Why? Do not say that you need Mary Gray? Did you get my message? About the new Queen's ladies?"

  "Yes. I sent word to have them held at Berwick Though I think that will scarce be popular. But, if there is to be trouble, let it be over the Border. Where, h'm, trouble-makers cannot add to it!"

  "That makes good sense. The Queen is adamant. She will have no more ladies save of her own choosing. Especially English ones."

  "It will be difficult James has sent up the Earls of Sussex and Lincoln with this bevy of countesses and the like. Carefully chosen to play faction against faction, the Cecils against the Howards, Cobham against Raleigh. The old game he learned so well here in Scotland. Nullifying their influence."

  "So Vicky told the Queen. But she will have none of it. James can make a political tourney-ground of his own Court, she says— but not of her's. A plague on them all, says Anne! This period away from the King has made her a deal more independent, to be sure. She is a changed woman."

  "Scarcely a joyful augury for London!"

  They fell silent for the Queen's brief speech of thanks, almost inaudible because of the gunfire. Then the tableaux commenced, angels presenting keys, elves offering gifts, a dragon spewing claret and other typically leaden municipal flights of fancy. At least there were no Latin monologues, de rigueur when the King was present

  At last they could move on to Holyrood—although there were further but briefer ceremonies en route, to each of which the Queen listened and responded with unvarying and courteous patience, very different from her royal husband who would have been cursing all angrily long before this.

  "Think you that Anne has discovered that perhaps the people's love and esteem can be a thing of value?" Heriot wondered. "She did not used to be so patient"

  Holyroodhouse was a different place from Heriot's last experience of it. All was formally correct, decorous, tidy. The guard was evident, punctilious, the staff attendant, discreet Even Heriot’s quarters in the wing had been cleaned up, with some fresh skin rugs and new hangings and items of furniture. The Master of Gray clearly did not do things by halves. The Lord Lindores seemed to have disappeared.

  There followed some days of hectic activity for the royal entourage, in preparation for the great journey to London. Anne was now determined to enjoy the experience and to travel in a style worthy of her position—whatever more modest arrangements Lennox had envisaged, on the King's instructions. The Queen had no idea of economy, and finding herself suddenly in a strong position, with Lennox having a viceroy's powers yet unwilling to say her nay, spent money like water. That it was in the main George Heriot's money, since the Scots Exchequer was emptier than ever after Gray's extravagances, was neither here nor there. That she was egged on to a great spending by the Master of the Wardrobe went almost without saying. She ordered night-and-day work on a most splendid travelling coach to be completed by George Hendry, bought scores of the finest horses to be found in Scotland, and embarked on an orgy of clothes-buying for herself, her children, her ladies and servants. Nothing was too good or too expensive—satins, silks, taffetas, cloth-of-gold and silver, furs, jewellery and accessories. It was all, undoubtedly, partly a counter-gesture after the sorrows of Linlithgow and partly a making of hay while the sun of her husband's absence shone, and his restraining hand was replaced by Cousin Ludovick's easy one.

  To be sure, James had partly himself to thank for it all. Queen Elizabeth, parsimonious on most matters to the point of meanness, had been wildly extravagant as to her own personal adornment, and had left behind her, amongst other things, more than two thousand splendid gowns. The King had promptly commandeered a selection of these and sent them up, with his choice of English ladies-in-waiting, for his wife. Anne's reaction had been, perhaps predictable, exploding in a feminine fury anent cast-off clothing, insults and the like—with the consequence of Heriot's urgent instructi
ons for the English ladies and their escort to be halted at Berwick meantime.

  Heriot’s own reaction to this spending was ambivalent He sympathised with his liege lord in the South to some extent, and put in a word of caution now and again, countering the wildest flights of prodigality. On the other hand, he felt for Anne, recognised that to date she had been sorely crimped and held in, and agreed that a queen entering her new and rich domains for the first time should be adequately dressed for the occasion. Also, of course, it was all apt to be good business for himself, a point of view he by no means overlooked. It might be some time before he recovered all his capital—but he would see that it was safe and the interest proportionate.

  At last the coach was ready and a start could be made. On a sunny forenoon of early June, the great cavalcade assembled in the forecourt of the palace, with the Chancellor, the Lord Lyon and remaining Privy Councillors and officers of state, the leaders of the Kirk, the city fathers of Edinburgh and a large part of the townsfolk, there to see the Queen and Prince off to a new life in England—the Princess Elizabeth was unfortunately confined to her bed with some sudden childish ailment and would follow on later; while Prince Charles was still at Dunfermline, considered too weakly for the long journey.

  It was a felicitous occasion. None would have thought that, only a few weeks before, the country had been in the throes of a dynastic crisis and treasonable plot combined, moreover with all the main characters concerned here foregathered—except the Mars, that is, the Earl having ridden off alone to London, to ensure that he got his own story first into his royal foster-brother's ear.

  Lord Fyvie made a valedictory speech, ending with a short poem he had composed especially for the day—it was not every Chancellor who could do the like. Then the Master of Gray presented parting gifts for the Queen and her children, jewellery, loving-cups and silver caskets, expressing in flowing eloquence the warm regards and true love of all, including his most humble self, for their royal mistress and her delightful offspring, and their pro-foundest good wishes for the future—praying only that in the new-found bliss in the South they would not forget leal and loving Scotland.