The newcomer found himself seated between the former favourite, the Earl of Southampton, Knight of the Garter, and Sir Andrew Kerr of Ferniehirst, elder brother of the young man at the head of the table. Kerr, a cheerful if unscupulous extrovert, greeted him with a grin, and pushed a flagon and beaker towards him. Southampton was asleep and snoring gently. Directly across the table, while seeming to pay rapt attention to their liege lord's lengthy abstractions, two clients of Heriot's own, the Earl of Rutland and the Viscount Doncaster, were playing cards with miniatures behind an elaborate screen of feathered hats and bottles. From further up the table the Duke of Lennox drooped an eyelid at his friend and yawned carefully behind a hand.
The King was partial to these debating and syllogism sessions, in which he could display his learning and agility of mind. They were less popular with his courtiers—but very good excuses had to be tendered for non-attendance. The churchmen were there to provide the necessary vocal reactions—since the Court gentlemen, save for a few Scots, were almost without exception out of their depth from the first proposition. Also the divines were able sometimes to applaud the frequent Latin comments or aphorisms that fell from the salivating royal lips.
The present monologue—since it was that rather than any debate, at the moment—appeared to be concerned with the nature and identity of the language spoken in the Garden of Eden, James declaiming with an authority rivalled only by its lack of clarity. It seemed that his illustrious great-grandfather, James the Fourth of hallowed memory, had had similar conjectures, and for experiment had deposited two new-born infants, with a deaf-and-dumb wet-nurse, plus a large supply of food and drink, on the otherwise uninhabited islet of Inchkeith in the Firth of Forth, in the confident expectation that they would grow up, uncontaminated by the rest of the world, to speak the basic language of all humanity —which inevitably would be that of Adam and Eve, and therefore of Heaven itself. Unfortunately the second winter later prolonged gales prevented food being landed for the experiment for a couple of awkward months, and an excellent piece of research was spoiled through the death of all concerned. James, it transpired, had frequently thought of making a scientific investigation of his own, on similar lines—and might well do so yet. But meantime, his confident contention was that Gaelic was undoubtedly the language of Eden, and Heaven itself.
This averment aroused not a little doubt around the table, even from some who had appeared to be elsewhere in spirit. Nobody actually was so unwise as to challenge the statement, of course, at this early stage; but not a few eyebrows rose.
James nodded happily—and proceeded to prove his point. The Gaels of Scotland had migrated over long centuries to their present home in the north-west extremity of Europe, via the Mediterranean lands, and Spain, France and Ireland, leaving the names of Galicia, in Spain and Gaul, for France, behind them in the process. But they had first come from the very cradle of mankind, in Asia Minor. The Garden of Eden was known to have been sited, not in the Holy Land but to the north-east thereof, in the heart of Asia Minor, where the great River the Euphrates rose. And what was the name of that heartland? Galatia. Galatia, whence came the Gaels. The same to whom St. Paul wrote his epistle. The Gaelic-speaking people of Scotland, therefore, were the true and most dhect hehs of Adam and Eve, and their language the mother-tongue of all other languages on earth If any doubted this, let them consider—take the simple word cuibhle, pronounced cooyul, Gaelic for circular. From this came the English wheel and whirl and curl. From the same root came wirren, to twist, in German; virer, to turn, in French; vermis, a worm and verter, to turn, in Latin; vermicelli, in Itahan, Krimi in Sanskrit. And so on. Could any doubt, then, that the Gaelic was the language of Heaven, the Scots the heirs of Adam, and he the heir of Scotland —and so well-suited to be Vice-Regent of Christ Himself? He would be interested to hear any who contested his reasoning.
While, after a somewhat stunned silence, all disclaimed any such presumptuous assertion, and one of the divines launched into a fulsome eulogy of this resounding proposition, which explained so much of the heavenly wisdom which fell from the royal lips, James took the opportunity to use the said lips to plant a slobbering kiss on those of young Carr, and obviously to fiddle about with him below the table. The youth smiled lazily.
Carr was beautiful, there was no denying that. From a rather awkward boy he had blossomed into a fair and graceful young man, tallish, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, with curling auburn hah, worn long, above a wide brow, long-lashed and rather prominent eyes, a straight nose and full pouting lips, moistly red. Dressed all in cloth-of-silver, seeded with pearls, beribboned in blue, with cheeks and finger-nails as red as his lips, he lounged at amiable ease. Heriot, looking, wondered how much financial astuteness could he beneath that complacently immature exterior —and, if little, who was "managing" him?
'Your brother rides high, Sir Andrew," he murmured to Kerr at his side. "He has learned how to butter his bread since he went to France!"
"Is he my brother?" Dand Kerr asked. "Damme, sometimes I wonder! Leastways, he scarce acknowledges me, now! He never looks the road I'm on."
"Whose road does he look, then? Other than his own? My Lord Doncaster*s, there?"
"Jamie Hay's ? Not him. He is as little heeded as am I. Robin finds his own kin tiresome. It seems he can do without us."
"I give him twelve months." That was Southampton, who seemed to have wakened up, at the other side of Heriot, "No more. Unless Overbury is less greedy."
"Overbury? You mean Sir Thomas? The poet, my lord?"
"Poet? I'd call him otherwise, Master Heriot But that's the man. He, h'm advises our Robin. Did you not know?"
James suddenly was banging on the table with his tankard. It had seemingly occurred to him that Master John Donne, theologian, was implying, in his otherwise adulatory remarks, that he, the monarch had more or less imbibed knowledge of the heavenly language by divine right and godly connection, and had not had to learn it the hard way like other scholars. Much incensed, he announced that he had indeed had to study the Gaelic, along with Sanskrit, Hebrew, Greek, Latin and French, with the help of his tutor Geordie Buchanan's wicked tongue and ready belt. Many a sore ear and ringing head he had suffered, etcetera.
Heriot was not listening, his mind busy. This of Overbury interested him. Sir Thomas Overbury was quite famous, a politician rather than a courtier, an academic of some renown who had travelled widely abroad, an intimate of Ben Jonson and something of a protege of the Howards. But he was seldom seen at Court, and seemed an unlikely "manager" for young Carr.
James had got back to the subject of language, and was demanding of Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery, whether he agreed that Aramaic predated Sanskrit—for it was his wont to keep his courtiers on their toes in these sessions by descending on individuals for opinions without warning; moreover, he made a point of seeking to retain the goodwill of his displaced favourites and keeping them by his side. Montgomery, for instance, had been appointed to the profitable office of Keeper of the New Forest, coincident with Carr's rise. The Earl now declared that, being as a new-born babe in the matter of languages, having enough trouble with English and Welsh, he was well content to accept a master's ruling, namely His Majesty's.
The King reproved him for mental laziness, but was evidently well enough pleased. He went on exploring by-ways of the subject for a little longer, impervious to the growing weight of boredom around him, then suddenly appeared to become aware of the passage of time and brought the session to an abrupt close. He turned, and tweaked Carr's ear.
"It is late," he declared. "Just time for your Latin lesson, before we eat, Robin lad. Eh?" And when the youth groaned audibly, James took it to indicate pain in the said ear and leaned over to lavish kisses upon the organ. Then he rose, and personally aided the other out of his chair.
It was Heriot's turn to groan. He had heard about these daily hour-long Latin sessions with which the sovereign honoured his new favourite. It looked as though he himself wo
uld have a long wait yet.
But, as so often, James Stewart surprised. As he was hobbling to the door, on Carr's arm, amidst the relieved bows of all but his goldsmith, he paused and pointed down the chamber.
"Geordie," he commanded, "come you."
Hurrying after the pair, Heriot came to the royal den, or study, with its lining of bookshelves, its blazing fire of holly-logs and table covered with wine-flagons and papers.
"Aye, Robin—here's Geordie Heriot," James said, turning. "A canny chiel who kens what's what. Kens how to mak siller grow, forby—which is something that interests yoursel', if I'm no' mistaken, heh? This is Robin Carr, Geordie. Is he no bonnie?"
The other two bowed stiffly to each other, without any extravagant warmth.
"Aye." The King glanced keenly from one to the other. "You'll get on fine, I see! Waesucks—you'll hae to!" There was just a hint of asperity behind that. "Now, Robin—awa' you and empty that bladder o' yours. You're ay needing, at the wrang moment. I want a word wi' Geordie. Back in five minutes just, and we'll get on wi' the Latinity."
As the door closed behind the young man, James put a finger to thick lips, and tip-toed to the door. Opening it suddenly, he peered out Satisfied, he closed it again. "He's a great one for listening behind doors, is our Robin," he confided with a chuckle. "And I want this to be a surprise."
"Indeed, She?"
"Aye, Geordie—indeed. I want you to contrive a bit present for me, see you. For Robin. Another medallion, or ornature, like you made for the woman Arabella. But no' a pendant, mind— something man suitable for a man. Square, I'd say, no' round. Here's what I want—a bit tablet o' gold, set wi' diamonds, wi' the Kerrs' arms in the front—that's red and white so it'll need to be rubies and pearls—supported by a lion and a unicorn. That's me, see? And just the plain gold at the back. But it's no' to be just what it seems. It's to be able to open, see—a wee case. Two sides, hinged thegither, and wi' a cleek to shut it. Inside there's to be a bit mirror on one side—for Robin's right keen on admiring him-sel. in mirrors—and a depicture o' mysel' on the other. A miniature, just. I'm getting yon Dutchman Hendriks to paint it for me. So you'll need to get the size right, mind. Is that no' a right cunning notion, Geordie?"
Heriot swallowed. "Cunning, She—but expensive!"
"Och, well, we'll no' fret about a bit expense, man, you and me! What's a few pounds to a man who writes notes-of-hand for twenty thousand pounds Scots, and doesna care if he gets it back? Forby, I'm working on a new scheme to mak siller. In right substantial style. Och, a notable scheme."
The other's heart sank. "Still another scheme, Sire?"
"Aye—and a bonnie one. I canna mak that many mah knights. The market is near overgorged, as you might say. Eheu iam satis! But there's plenty siller yet in a' yon new knights' pouches. I could be doing wi' some o' it. Maybe I can mak them pay twice.
Supposing I was to offer to mak their knighthoods hereditary ? So they could leave them to their sons! Like lords can. They'd be willing to pay for that, eh? How think you o' that for a ploy, Geordie man?"
"But—Sire, the whole notion and principle of knighthood is that it is gained by only one man. For himself. A personal accolade and honour. It is not something which can be passed on, to a son or anyone else."
"No, knighthood itsel’ isna. But the title o' Sir to their names. "We'd hae to ca' it something else. A totally new order. Higher than knight, but below the peers, Hereditary sirs. Folk would be right clamouring for the like, eh? Is it no' a notion?"
"I suppose . .. yes, I suppose it is, Sire." Even though Heriot sounded doubtful, he was much relieved that this was the new money-making device rather than what he had feared, the selling of appointments at Court, through Carr. Though he had still to ascertain that was not, in fact, also in process. He brought the subject back to that young man. "But that is for the future, Your Majesty. This jewel, for young Robert Carr, will be very costly now. Must it be so handsome? Plain silver, with the mirror and miniature, would serve equally well, would it not?"
"No, it wouldna. What ails you at Robin Carr?"
"Just that I would wish Your Majesty to save your money. When this young man is already making so much out of your royal kindness."
"Meaning—what, sir?" That was rapped out.
"Meaning, Sire, that Sir Robert seems in no need for expensive presents from yourself, when he is making so much out of selling positions at Court to the highest bidder. With or without your royal knowledge."
There was silence in that book-lined room for long moments. Then the door opened, and Robert Carr came strolling in.
"Out!" the King snapped, stabbing a pointing finger. "Awa' wi' you! When I want you, I'll cry on you! And dinna stand listening at the door."
Shocked, the young man gaped, but withdrew hurriedly.
"So you, Geordie Heriot, would teach me my business, eh?" James said, rounding on the other. "You believe you ken better than your lord. And no' for the first time. D'you think I dinna ken every last thing about that laddie oot there, man?"
Heriot cleared his throat. "I did not conceive . . . that Your Majesty could know . . . and be unconcerned. Of this scandal of the selling of appointments..."
"I ken fine. And am watching it"
"But..."
"But nothing ! Credit me wi' a mite o' sense, will you? You're no' the only man can add two and two. When Robin goes ower far, I'll check him."
"Six hundred pounds Sterling for an Almoner's position in the Queen's household, strikes me as sufficiently far, Sire! Even if the system is accepted as, as respectable, that sum, equal to seven thousand pounds Scots, seems to me . . . exorbitant! And the youth who demands it, both unscrupulous and grasping." Heriot paused, blinking, himself alarmed at his own rashness in making the charge.
Oddly enough, James only chuckled. "Unscrupulous and grasping !" he repeated. "So that's Geordie Heriot's considered opinion? Hech, man—you're a right judge o' character. For Robin Carr is unscrupulous and grasping. And other things, forby. He's sort of cunning, but no' really intelligent. He has a gift for survival, though sae young. And he kens how far he can go—oh, aye, he kens that fine. And that's important But he's bonnie, bonnie. And has... other attributes. Aye, attributes."
"I fear I do not understand Your Majesty, in this matter," Heriot was genuinely bewildered. "You perceive all these dangerous failings in this young man. Yet you cherish him, and wink at his, his extortions ?"
"Who said they were dangerous failings, Geordie? Failings, aye., maybe—but no' dangerous. No' to me, anyway! Which is , what matters. I can use them—fine I can use them." James moved quietly back, to listen at the door. "See you," he went on, voice lowered. "I wouldna tell this to a'body but yoursel', Geordie— for you can keep your mou' shut Aye—and you'd better! I'm for training that laddie up. For a purpose. A right usefu' purpose. I'm training him, and testing him oot And he's doing fine. What d'you think I'm wasting an hour every day teaching him Latin for? He'll need to ken Latin, presently—and a wheen other things—for my purposes. The realm's purposes." "The realm's, Sire? Young Carr... ?"
"Just that, Geordie. Here's the way o' it. The man Cecil's getting auld and done. Forby, he's mair crabbit each day. I've never liked the man—but he was necessar. He isna, any longer! I've had enough o' Robert Cecil. Fortunately the man's sick, and will soon die, God willing ! So my physicians tell me. I'm going to rule this realm, Geordie, without any poking, prying, arrogant Secretary o' State telling me what I can do and what I canna. I'll rule it fine, lacking any such, I do assure you! Cecil will go—and no' be replaced."
Heriot was careful now to keep his tongue between his teeth.
"Now—this damned English parliament, aye and the Council too, they're no' like our Scots ones. They reckon they hae a God-given right to interfere in a' concerned wi' the rule o' this realm, my realm. I'm told that a principal Secretary o' State is necessary, part o' the machinery o' the state, between the monarch and themsel's. Very well—I'll appoint a ne
w Secretary o' State, when I'm ready. But nae man clever, ambitious, masterfu' and high-born limmers like Cecil! Nae mair nominees o' the Howards, or other great pridefu' English houses, who think to control me, their lord, through their watch-dog at the Secretary's desk! Na, na—I aim to appoint Robin Carr. Who'll do what I tell him and naething mair—or I'll ken the reason why!"
Licking his lips, the other shook his head, wordless.
"D'you no' see it, Geordie man ? Use your wits. I've been looking for such a one, for long now. Young Robin will owe a' to me— no highborn lordling wi' powerfu' relatives behind him. And I'll ken every thought in his heid! You ca' him unscrupulous and grasping—and so he is. But a Secretary o' State needs to be that— under control. Rule and governance demand methods that may be wouldna do for a shopkeeper nor yet a minister o' religion. Ooh, aye—and Robin will manage a' such for me, fine. He thinks he's got a' these folk appointed to office in his wee bit pocket! Fine, fine—but it's my pocket they're in, no' his! They'll likely a' come in right usefu', one day. And meantime, they pay up! They're right carefully chosen, these, mind, afore the whisper reaches them that Robin's the lad to approach I"
"I... I am lost in wonder" Heriot got out.
"Aye, well—I must needs see to the proper ordering o' this realm the guid God has put in my care. One way or the other," James added complacently.
The Wisest Fool Page 45
