The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  Heriot answered that "She did not do so until the jewels turned up, to be sold. She must have given them to Orkney a year before, but made no move before Hartside and Alison brought them to me. She, the Queen, knew that I would recognise them as hers— since I had provided them for her. And so the secret was out. She dared not accuse Orkney of the blackmail, while he still held the letters. But she could hit back at Margaret—whom, no doubt, she believes to be Orkney's minion As warning not to try her further."

  They considered that It seemed to answer the case—or most of it

  "And now," Lennox went on, "we seem to be going to have Patrick Gray to extort the blackmail, instead of his brother-in-law! Is the King any way advantaged? For Patrick is a much cleverer man than Orkney. I feel in my bones it is better, somehow. But..."

  "I would say yes," Mary answered slowly. "Patrick is a rogue —but a rogue with principles! He is at war, meantime, with James personally. But I believe that he loves his country, in his own way. Would do nothing to hurt the realm. Orkney is otherwise—cares nothing for the realm, or any other save himself. Patrick may charge the King dear for those letters—but he will not bring down the throne, and Scotland with it, I believe."

  "It seems that James will have to pay heavily for leaving behind the Master at Berwick, that day!" Lennox said. "It was an ill-advised move."

  "Even he would not deny that now, I think," Heriot agreed. "But at least the King will now know where these letters are. And, who can tell, may even be able to lay hands on them. Which he could not do in the Isles of Orkney."

  "That might be to underestimate Patrick's ability to look after his own interests," Mary pointed out, warningly.

  "Perhaps. What think you the Master's price will be?"

  "Who knows?" the Master's daughter said. "Almost certainly not money. Perhaps the Chancellorship of Scotland. Or even a call to the Court in London, after all—and power there. It is ever power that Patrick seeks—not mere money."

  "Nothing that we may do about it, now," the Duke declared. "The question is, where do we go now? What our next move?"

  "Return to Edinburgh," Heriot said. "See both Hope and Hamilton again. About Margaret Hartside's court case, as well as the Master's claim. Then back to London and the King. Lay ah before him, advise that he settles with Gray. Further decision is his, not ours. We have done what he sent us to do—or as much as we might. We have, we believe, found out what is behind it all. What remains is for the King to choose."

  "It is a bad business—like so much else," Mary Gray commented. "Unfinished business, too. But—heigho! that is the one satisfaction of it! At least, for you and for me, Alison, my dear. For it will not be so very long, I think, before these two men of ours will be coming back to Scotland once more, on this the King's unfinished and tangled business! To our joy."

  They all drank to that

  So, that early evening, six miles to the south-east, at the North Queensferry, the two strong-minded young women waved goodbye to their chosen men, on the boat for the Lothian shore. If they swallowed a tear or two, they did not do so until the others were beyond perceiving it.

  In Edinburgh next day, the travellers were surprised to discover that Master Thomas Hope had already extracted Margaret Hartside from Blackness Castle. She was now in the care of one of her husband's Buchanan kinsmen in Stirlingshire. This had been achieved by Hope's knowledgeable pressure, legal expertise, and by a surety of ten thousand merks being paid on the woman's behalf, in the name of one John Dalziel, an Edinburgh burgess under some obligation to the advocate. They, and the woman, undertook to appear before any properly constituted court, whenever summoned, as was lawfully correct. Meanwhile she was not to leave Stirlingshire.

  George Heriot wrote his note-of-hand for ten thousand merks there and then, much pleased with their counsel. Hope, for his part, put forward no objection to the idea of hearing the Master of Gray's case before a special judicial commission, in private— since it implied royal recognition that there was a case to answer. He would advise his principal to concur.

  Later, they saw Sir Thomas Hamilton, and he also agreed to the commission, saying that it was a reasonable move, and promising to make the necessary arrangements. Like the Chancellor, he also wondered about a target figure for settlement, and again Heriot mentioned the sum of twenty thousand pounds. The other seemed to accept that as fah and practical, in the circumstances. But would the Master of Gray ?

  They set off on their long ride to London, the following morning.

  15

  THE TRAVELLERS ARRIVED at Theobalds to discover that the two monarchs had moved back to Greenwich, preparatory to Christian's departure for his own Denmark in a few days' time. Lennox pressed on to Court, therefore, to make his report, while his companion delayed for a day in London to deal with his own business problems which had accumulated during his absence.

  "When Heriot took boat down the five miles of Thames to Greenwich the day following, it was to discover stirring ongoings at the great palace when he arrived—a tournament, no less. This seemed to be in the nature of a valedictory flourish towards the foreign guests—and London had been ransacked for ancient suits of armour for the contestants, for ah was to be done in true, colourful, medieval style, in the interests of chivalry and honour: or approximately true. The riverside park had been turned into a great tilting-ground, with wooden terracing for the spectators, a gorgeously decorated royal box, with the Lion and Unicorn competing above it and the Danish and Holstein banners alongside. The entire scene was a riot of colour, with striped pavilions and awnings for the great nobles and ambassadors, standards and flags everywhere, the lists adorned with the competitors' coats-of-arms, horse-trappings of striking hues, helmet-plumes, surcoats and heraldic favours, a chromatic spectacle in themselves—so that the ladies, although spectacularly enough clad, could by no means compete with all this male flamboyance. It was a no-expense spared occasion, most evidently—and George Heriot was spoilsport enough to wonder where all the money was to come from this time. How much of his latest twenty thousand Sterling remained? Fortunately the August weather remained excellent

  It transpired that even the newly-returned Duke of Lennox had been dragooned into the jousting, along with Ring Christian himself and nobles innumerable. The clash of armoured knights already resounded when Heriot arrived, and almost the first sight to greet him was two unconscious individuals being carried off on biers, one of whom he recognised, behind all the nose-bleed, as a customer of his own, the Earl of Rutland. He hoped that he would not die—for the Earl owed him money. According to bystanders, Rutland had actually been the victor of his joust—but his horse had collapsed under him, with a burst heart, soon after he had unseated his opponent with his lance, and any fall from the saddle, in armour, was apt to knock the encased knight unconscious. These riding horses, or coursers, were totally unsuited for carrying the weight of knight plus almost a hundredweight of steel-plating; but the heavy destriers of the age of chivalry were no longer bred. Heriot thanked his Maker that humble tradesmen, at least, were not expected to make fools of themselves in this fashion. Clearly it was no time to approach King James who, excellent horseman as he was, had more wits than to adventure himself in any uncomfortable suit of iron for others to poke at, preferring to fill the role of judge up in the royal box amongst a bevy of ladies around Anne—who, of course, was Queen of the Tournament. He had, however, donned a special and gorgeous heraldic tabard for the occasion—although it was noted and complained of by many that the Lion Rampant of Scotland was worn to the front, and the Leopards and Tudor Roses of England only at the back.

  Heriot found a seat for himself amongst the noisy crowd of courtiers and guests on the timber scaffolding near the entrance to the lists.

  There, however, he quickly had had enough—for one joust was very like another, with a trumpet being blown, one high-sounding name shouted in challenge to another, then two colour-fully-caparisoned but totally steel-encased horsemen lumbering heavi
ly towards each other, lances out-thrust, to collide, with a clash and clatter as of kitchen pots tumbling, and one, or both, falling to the grass and being carried off. A little of this went a long way, for those not educated up to it; and Heriot would have slept there and then, in the sun and warmth—for he was still tired from his long journey South—had it not been for the incessant noise, trumpeting, shouting of encouragement and abuse, wagering on the outcomes, squabbles over identities and over non-payment of bets, unhappy horses whinnying, dogs barking and pedlars hawking their sweetmeats, ales and watered wines. One spectator at least wished that he had stayed in London. For some reason, he was not in the mood.

  There came a diversion. Four magnificently arrayed knights rode up together to the mouth of the lists, to a tremendous flourish of trumpets, each with a mounted esquire bearing a great banner. It was only the banner with the Stewart blue-and-white fess chequey on gold, surmounted by a ducal coronet, which revealed to Heriot that one of the quartet was his friend Lennox. The Garter King came to announce, through a speaking-trumpet, that these four champions of Christendom Ludovick, Duke of Lennox, Thomas, Earl of Arundel, William, Earl of Pembroke and Philip, Earl of Montgomery, hereby challenged the whole world to deny four chivalric and traditional propositions. One: That in service of a lady no knight has free will. Two: That it is Beauty which maintains the world in valour. Three: That no fair lady was ever false. Four: That none can be perfectly wise but lovers. Let any who would contest such indisputable truths, in the presence of Beauty personified by the Queen's most excellent Majesty, and before these most puissant champions, now declare it—if they dared.

  There followed a loud groaning, catcalls, whistles, and stamping, Kings James and Christian leading the racket. Then out from the far end of the arena rode four anonymous knights in wholly black armour, without caparison, heraldry or banners, mounted on coal-black horses. A bellow greeted their appearance —drowned by another blast of trumpets, all deliberate discords and rasping, from black-clad minions. Without a word declared, the four black knights rode forward.

  To the cheers of the company, the noble champions dug in their great spurs, and moved to meet them.

  It would be good to record that they galloped gallantly to the fray. But alas, that was not possible on horses grossly overburdened, and with riders so stiffly encumbered with metal that they could by no means have stayed in the saddle had they done so. They lumbered out at something less than a canter—and even at that the young Earl of Arundel, perhaps still suffering from his bladder-trouble, swayed about in his saddle alarmingly and twice all but fell off. The older men were better, but none appeared as to the manner born; and Pembroke, who was the oldest and heaviest, fell quite noticeably behind, vehemently as he beat his steel gauntlet on his beast's cloth-of-gold-covered croup.

  The black knights, in fact, seemed to be rather more effective.

  In these circumstances, it was as well perhaps that when the clash came it was theoretical rather than actual Lances crossed and clattered—and one of the blacks had to lean dangerously far over to make contact at all with Arundel. But it was the moral power of good over evil which was so strong that promptly, and all but in unison, all four sinister figures were unseated, to fall to the ground. Admittedly they all managed to land on their feet, before keeling over and lying still—where Arundel and Pembroke almost joined them, as they reined round their staggering steeds. But it was a highly complete and unanimous victory; and as the valiant champions trotted round the perimeter, to pause and raise their lances before the royal box, they were cheered to the echo— despite some of the comments enunciated around George Heriot.

  That man moved over to the splendid pavilions from which the noble knights had emerged, and so was able to be close by when Lennox dismounted. The paladin perceived him, and opening his visor with some difficulty, revealed a very red, indeed sweating face.

  "Folly!" he spluttered. "Damned foolish bairns'-play! Did ever you see the like ? I am sore in every bone. Half my skin rubbed off! Heaven defend us from crazed monarchs!"

  "At least you triumphed gloriously—and in upright posture!" his friend commented gravely. "You appeared very handsome—in especial with your visor closed. You would seem to fill your armour nicely, my lord Duke!"

  "It is not my armour—that is part the trouble. It was made for some walking deformity, I swear! Nothing fits, or bends, where it should. As bad as the rack, the boot and the thumbikins combined ! To provide sport for fools!"

  "Hush—that verges on treason I And have I not heard you glorifying knighthood and chivalry? And berating the King for debasing it?"

  "Knighthood! This rattling about like loose peas in an iron pod has Little to do with knighthood and chivalry, man. It is mummery, play-acting. I refused to take part, until fames commanded me. He is not so daft, you will note!"

  "His Majesty indulges in daftness by proxy! Have you spoken with him yet ? As to our mission, our findings ?"

  "Only the briefest I have not seen him alone. He says that it is you he sent North. I was but a ducal appendage. You it is must report."

  "When?"

  "God knows! I will tell him that you are here, now, to be sure. There is another of these deplorable banquets tonight. And tomorrow a review of ships, if you please! Off Chatham. Slaistering about in boats and barges, eating in tarry, smelly bottoms! As Lord Admiral of Scotland, for my sins, I must be present. I know not a forecastle from a poop!"

  More trumpets, loud and prolonged, interrupted the Duke, and cursing, he went stamping and clanking off to receive some sort of chaplet from the Queen of the Tournament, whilst Heriot returned to his seat, to watch King Christian himself, resplendent in bright blue armour, and young Prince Henry in pure white, ride a circuit of the ring, and then seek to pick up on their lance points a wreath-like favour of flowers sent down by Anne. Neither came within inches of achieving this, until attendants set it up on edge, supported by a pair of then caps—whereupon both royal contestants managed to spear it simultaneously, and bore it in triumph between them to the royal box, to the hearty applause of all, Christian hooting hollowly from within his helm.

  This seemed to represent the climax of the day, and fames was prompt in leading the way back to his palace.

  Heriot discovered no provision made for his reception, but as usual, found accommodation in Duke Ludovick's quarters, even huge Greenwich Palace being packed to the doors.

  No royal audience was forthcoming that evening, although Heriot saw James looking directly at him during the interminable feast, with its innumerable courses and relays of entertainment— jugglers, tumblers, dancing-bears, wrestlers and the like. It was not that the King was too deeply involved with his principal guests to have time for a word with his man-of-business—for King Christian was asleep by half-way through the banquet and was in due course carried ceremoniously to bed; and Queen Anne retired early from the scene. Heriot would have liked to have an interview with the Queen also—but recognised that it was necessary to see her husband first.

  Later, Lennox came down to declare that James was evidently playing some game of his own. He had ignored suggestions that he should see Heriot and himself that night, but at the last moment had commanded that his goldsmith should accompany them on the river excursion the next day—and to bring what he had called a kist of geegaws with him, for gifts. This news caused not a little upset—for of course, Heriot did not travel around with a supply of such heavy and expensive toys, and had, in consequence, there and then, to set off up-river for London again, in a royal barge, to the disgust of the watermen and a general fraying of tempers. It was two a.m. before that much-tried jeweller reached his premises at the Exchange—and thereafter had much difficulty in rousing his foreman, who slept above the shop and office, to open up, all to the grave offence of sundry disturbed neighbours and the suspicions of the Watch. It was breakfast-time before he got back to Greenwich with the jewellery— although King James, with Lennox and some others of his un-enthusia
stic courtiers, was already out hawking for herons in the Thames-side marshes. They would sail two hours before noon, for Chatham, he was informed—and he repaired for the hour or so to the Duke's bed, commiserating with himself on the disadvantages of being a close servant of Christ's Vice-Regent here on earth.

  He was but little rested when Lennox stormed in, to change, in a flood of new cursings, from his hunting-rig into something more suitable for a naval review. Not that James himself would bother to change, but he certainly would expect others to do so. The Duke was already pining for Scotland. All he wanted was to be a simple country laird at Methven. His friend sympathised, but tersely.

  Almost an hour late, a string of royal barges, highly decorated and with coloured awnings, flags and bunting, some full of busy musicians, and towing huge artificial swans and whales crewed by scantily-dressed maidens and youths, set off on the twenty-mile voyage down-river—for Rochester, surprisingly, where there was a cathedral service, for some unexplained reason; whereat James interrupted the proceedings to declare that this great kirk had been built out of the stricken consciences of the English of the thirteenth century, on account of a good Scot being murdered here, St. William of Perth, a decent baker, on his way to the Holy Land in pilgrimage—a matter for the moral musings of all. A little later he complained loudly that there were bat-droppings falling from the roof on his royal head, and so clapped on his high hat in consequence, keeping it on thereafter. The Bishop was much distressed, but was not permitted to absent himself from the further proceedings.

  Thereafter, the two monarchs hurried out to cannon-fire from the line of Elizabethan forts flanking the dockyard, an employment after James's own heart—so much so that the entire review was held up for another unscheduled hour while the monarchs rivalled each other in applying fuses and matches, and continuous explosions shook land and water, and deafened courtiers and citizens clutched their ears. Even Christian looked slightly wan before eventually they ran out of powder—James, of course, having had the foresight to bring ear-plugs along for himself.