The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  So, singing like a lark, Alison, with her love, passed through the Netherbow Port and into the separate burgh of the Canongate, the palace ahead of them.

  At Holyroodhouse cooks, bakers, vintners and decorators of various sorts had been busy all day—and indeed for days previously—preparing. The providing of the wedding feast was, of course, traditionally the responsibility of the bride's father, but James Primrose, in the circumstances, had been very happy to bow to the pressure to use George Heriot's deeper purse. No expense had been spared, in consequence, and the ancient palace, though admittedly now somewhat neglected not to say dilapidated, at least superficially had not looked gayer since Queen Mary's lively days. Banners, bunting, greenery, flowers were everywhere, hired tapestries and hangings and carpeting covered bare stone and flaking plaster, panelling was repaired and tempera painting was renewed, while instrumentalists played in corners, on balconies and in the pleasance. Even certain repairs had been effected to a leaking roof. King James would have rubbed his hands.

  There were actually two feasts, one in the Throne Gallery, set for one hundred and fifty, and one in the open forecourt, not set but supplied for five hundred. There was no very clear distinction between the two, and any such there might be became less so as the day wore on—for this was a prolonged occasion. Not only Heriot and his bride wandered in and out between the two. The Scots were never a very class-conscious race and all sections of the invited guests mingled freely enough—though it would be fair to say that the majority of the trader, craftsmen and apprentice guests did not penetrate up to the Throne Gallery, even though there was nothing to stop them doing so; and indeed many of their womenfolk, in especial, did make a quick foray aloft, just to be able to talk about it afterwards. On the other hand, most of the more aristocratic guests did frequent the forecourt festivities intermittently during the five hours of continuous feasting, for here were the side-shows, the jesters and tumblers and wrestlers, the bear-dancing, cock-fighting, dwarf displays and other delights. Needless to say, the Earl of Dunbar and his minions did not honour this affair with their presence; but Chancellor Dunfermline did, and Tam o' the Coogate—though not his father or brother—as did the Reverend Balfour, a pleasant and not too earnest divine who did not always seem to equate sternness with their Creator.

  By no means all the company were in a condition to appreciate the fireworks display when at length that stage was reached— though none complained thereat. Alison, with squeals, let off the first rocket, which burst in colourful radiance against the dark loom of nearby towering Arthur's Seat. With the shapely hill and its crags and all the city's other hills, castle and soaring, serrated skyline as backcloth, the extended display was highly impressive and challenging and the cheers of the watching crowds eloquent In time, however, even Alison became slightly apprehensive, wondering how much each flash and bang and star-shower was costing.

  "Never heed, lass," her new spouse advised her. "Leave me to calculate that I do not get married every day" He patted her bottom, in proprietorial fashion, as she ran off to light another.

  "An excellent entertainment, Master Geordie. A most notable occasion, for which we are all vastly in your debt," a melodiously assured voice declared at his shoulder, presently.

  He turned to Patrick Gray. "Ah, I thank you, my lord," he said. "From you, who are so knowledgeable in these matters, that is more than I deserve."

  "I think not This is altogether a day to remember."

  "It will be my joy to remember it, sir."

  "Of course, of course. You are, I swear, a most happy man. Your Alison is an enchantment. I do believe that you may be as fortunate in your wife as I am in mine!"

  Surprised, Heriot gave a little bow, but said nothing.

  They watched a fiery wheel soar and circle, sparking, through the gloaming sky. "You will have put your hand deep in a deep pocket for all this, my friend," Gray observed.

  "Not more deeply than the occasion warrants. After all, I have paid for the like times ainany, for the King's pleasure. Should I not now do so for my own and my friends' ?"

  "Well spoken, sir. I do agree. But... I think that you are too kind, at times, to our peculiar sovereign lord 1"

  "Is it not my duty to serve him ? All our duty ? "

  "No doubt But to serve him and his realm to best effect may-demand more, shall we say, discrimination than just giving him all he asks. No ?"

  "I am a simple tradesman, my lord. Not for me to discriminate amongst the King's wishes."

  "Ha—I wonder! And how simple, my friend? Tell me—did that payment to me of nineteen thousand pounds come from your pocket ? Or the King's ?"

  "From the King's. In due course."

  "Ah, yes—in due course! I wonder. His Grace is to be congratulated on this simple subject of his, I think! But, Master Geordie—that does not mean that His Grace will necessarily love you the more for it. Nor reward you suitably. Or, perhaps, at all!"

  Heriot cleared his throat "I do not pretend to any nobility of mind, my lord, as of blood—but I do not seek reward from His Grace, I think. I esteem our, our relationship otherwise."

  "Said like a very loyal servant. As I was once"

  "I acknowledge that His Grace treated you ill, my lord. I was, and am, sorry. But—he may have had reasons unknown to me. Or even to you! Kings are not as other men. Cannot be."

  "An interesting philosophy, sir. I am surprised at your disclaimer of nobility of mind. I conceive you to be all but bursting with it!"

  Nettled, Heriot frowned. "Speaking of deep pockets, my lord, you yourself I believe, have been spending largely of late ? Or so I hear."

  "Ah! You have sharp ears, Master Geordie."

  "Say that I have friends, tradesmen friends. In many places. Not all in Scotland. Some even in France I"

  "So-o-o! The wind blows from that airt, does it! Interesting, is it not, how universal a language is the clink of gold pieces?"

  "Aye. Even from the Vatican itself to, shall we say, the Isles of Orkney?"

  Gray was silenced by that for a little—something few men ever achieved. He drew a deeper breath than usual. "You are a man, I swear, after my own heart" he said then, unexpectedly.

  "I find that hard to believe, my lord," Heriot answered, shaking his head. "Since we appear to have such very different. .. persuasions"

  'You think so? Tell me, my friend, if you will, you who so notably support His Sacred Majesty. How much of that support is for James Stewart, the man? And how much for his throne and realm?"

  It was the other's turn to take his time. "Both," he said, at length. "Aye, both. I am a leal subject and though I now dwell in London, a true Scot The realm of Scotland has my devotion. But I do not separate that realm from its monarch. And I have, you might say, an affection for King James, the man—if that seems not over-presumptuous. He is not as other men—but he could not be. He has ignoble qualities, as well as great—but who has not? But he loves peace, instead of war—which is something new in kings, I think. And, in his fashion, he is honest, good-natured, learned, and thinks for his common subjects rather than for his great lords—as few have done."

  "But loves neither, to be sure!"

  "Perhaps. The more credit to him that he thinks of them, then."

  "I say he loves only himself—God's Vice-Regent I"

  "Not that, no. He is a man who needs love, I believe—and can

  have but little of it. He is a lonely man, for all his favourites and

  courtiers."

  "You are eloquent on his behalf, Master Geordie. He has a better friend in you than he deserves, I say. I would warn you, however —watch him well. He will use you, and discard you, at a whim."

  "Not at a whim, my lord. He may discard me—for a king must use men and discard them, since they are the tools of his trade, as mine are tongs and pliers and hammers—aye, and merks and pounds. But with James, it would not be at a whim. Of that I am sure."

  "Well—I have warned you, friend. If he turns and rends
you, one day, as he has done myself, Balmerino and others—aye, and will do Dunbar likewise, I warrant you—recollect my warning !"

  "I thank you. But, since warnings are to the fore, may I do the same by your lordship? King James knows more of your activities and plans than perhaps you think. And if he feels his realm and throne endangered thereby could strike quite ruthlessly. And, it may be, unexpectedly."

  "That I have known for years, sir. I seek ever to take my precautions. But... so should he! Since you love him, tell him so! But—I thank you for your consideration on my behalf. We will go our several ways, Master Geordie, doing what we consider best for this strange realm of ours. Credit me with some devotion to it, likewise! Now—I have monopolised my host overlong. My apologies!" And with a smile that was kindness itself, he strolled away.

  Heriot was stroking his little beard very thoughtfully when Mary Gray came to him. "I have been watching the pair of you, Geordie," she informed him, "talking so earnestly. When Patrick is so attentive, he usually has a reason."

  "We were warning each other," the man told her, briefly.

  "That sounds... direful?"

  "I pray that it will not be. For either of us." He smiled. "And you ? This is no occasion for such talk. Have you had enough of fireworks?"

  "They are very fine. But, yes—I think I have had sufficient of entertainment Excellent as it is, Geordie. And, see you—there's another who has. I vow!" And she pointed to where Alison, young Johnnie Stewart—not so very far apart in years—and some of the Primrose family were grouped. 'Take her away, Geordie. She has had a long day and lived it to the full. But the best of it is still to come, is it not? So be it she is not so wearied as to be unable to savour it properly!"

  "M'mmm. You think ... ? But there is still the dancing. And I am host..."

  "Not so. You are the bridegroom. Have you forgot? I say, forget you are the so responsible George Heriot, for once. You may be paying for all this—but is not the bride's father truly the host? Let James Primrose play his part in this, at least. Slip away, Geordie dear—while you may."

  "While I may... ?"

  'Yes. Johnnie tells me that some of the young ones are planning a bedding for you! It may be the custom, but I do not think that either of you would want that..."

  "By God—no!" he cried, all indecision swept away. "I thank you. I will speak with her. At once..."

  So, Alison far from unwilling, they did slip away unnoticed into the shadows of the pleasance—or hoped they were unnoticed.

  They could have used almost any of the innumerable rooms of the main palace as bridal chamber, but Heriot was quite content with his own old quarters in the northern conventual wing, and Alison had found no fault. Thither they hurried, and with relief the man shut the outer door behind them, and bolted it

  "Any bedding done tonight we will do without assistance!" he announced grimly.

  Her tinkle of laughter did not sound in the least jaded or weary. "I am sure that you are entirely the expert, Geordie I" she said.

  He looked somewhat less sure of himself, at that.

  And upstairs, faced with the great bed, all ready, and the log fire and candles flickering, they both were constrained to pause a little. Heriot, however, had thought of this, and proceeded to tell the story of his arrival here from London all those years ago, before ever they had met, to be confronted with the large white and active limbs and person of an unknown lady, plus Patrick, Lord Lindores, the Lady Marie's brother-in-law, in this same bed. If the tale was just slightly stilted at the start, he warmed to the telling and before he was finished, they were sitting on the said bed in high hilarity, all tension evaporated. Indeed, the story was never finished, for presently the girl had closed the teller's lips with her own, and, almost of their own volition, his hands were busy unclasping, unhooking and detaching her finery—a process at which Alison began to assist enthusiastically, until she changed tactics, to start on him.

  He exercised his mastery, however, declaring that one thing at a time was good policy and dutifully she acceded. And, in a little she desisted in her efforts altogether, to give him the satisfaction of removing those last silken garments. Then she stood up slowly, stood back from him, deliberately, opening her arms wide, palms cupped towards him, in a gesture of proud offering and humble giving, both, in all her heart-breaking young loveliness.

  George Heriot actually groaned aloud in the extremity of his emotion, delight, joy. Down forward on his knees he sank, to reach out and clasp her white and slender, but sufficiently rounded form about the middle, and to press his brow and lips against her warm, satin-smooth but firm flesh below the small, vigorously-pointed breasts.

  "My love, my heart," he whispered. "You are beautiful, beautiful ! No man has ever looked on fairer. For long ... so long ... I have wanted you. Wanted you thus. Aye, thus and thus and thus!"

  "Oh, Geordie, my dear, I am glad, glad!" she exclaimed into his hah. "I feared ... for long I feared... that your need was not so great... as is mine! Lord be thanked ... for this!"

  He shook his head against her skin—and the doing of it so affected his lips as to set them trembling, wordless quite.

  "Oh-up, Geordie! Up!" Alison cried. "Quickly, I say. We have waited... long enough!"

  He rose, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  23

  GEORGE HERIOT would not have chosen to present his new wife at Court quite so soon after their return to London, with much settling in to do at the Exchange premises, the house above the shop to be remodelled and refurbished to a woman's taste, and no urgent desire on the part of either of them for haste in seeking royal recognition—especially as the Queen was said to be in low health and spirits, suffering from arthritis and money troubles and James spending much time away at Carr's new property of Sherborne, in Dorset But it so happened that Will Shakespeare's new Scots play was now finished and was to have its first showing, naturally before the monarch, at Hampton Court, only four days after their arrival. Needless to say, they both were anxious to see this. Moreover, a summons to attend was awaiting Heriot from James—though no reference was made to his wife. He was not going without her, however—and Alison agreed that putting off the confrontation with the Queen was unlikely to achieve anything.

  Hampton Court Palace, thirteen miles up the Thames from Whitehall, was neither one thing nor another, as far as James was concerned—not conveniently at the centre of London life, nor yet sufficiently far away to be a useful country house capable of providing the sort of hunting facilities his health was alleged to require. A vast place, built by the unfortunate Cardinal Wolsey and handed over to Henry the Eighth in 1526, James had given it to his children, Henry, Elizabeth and Charles, who ran wild amongst its honeycomb of rooms and corridors to their hearts' content—and thus largely kept out from under their father's feet. But it did provide a suitable venue for sundry large-scale activities, where the King and Queen could associate as it were on more or less neutral ground, since it was not officially the Queen's house, although she visited there much. They now lived almost entirely separate lives.

  So Heriot and Alison hired a pinnace to take them upriver the dozen miles on a golden September afternoon, amidst a vast deal of other traffic going the same way, a cheerful journey, with the watermen shouting scurrilities at each other, impromptu races, and humble lightermen refusing to get out of the way of great lords' barges and young bloods' wherries. At the riverside palace amongst its terraced gardens, Heriot as usual sought out the Duke of Lennox whom he had heard was now back from the Continent. Ludovick was delighted to see them, made much of Alison, assured them of quarters for the night—but suggested that it might be unwise to seek audience of either James or Anne meantime, for they were having a major quarrel—ostensibly over the old trouble of finance, but all knew that it was really over the insufferable Carr. It was strange how the Queen had shrugged off the succession of earlier favourites but balked so at this one. Later, after the performance, would be th
e time to see the King. And it would be injudicious to approach Anne, anyway, before Alison had been received by James.

  The Great Hall of Hampton Court, with its mighty extent and hammer-beam roof, made an ideal setting for a play-acting, for the accoustics were good, a minstrels' gallery above the stage, with dual stairways there to add dimension and allow for variety of movement. Such was the size of the place that many more could be accommodated than at the Globe or any other playhouse in

  England. Tonight, as well as all the two Courts, were present the foreign ambassadors, the high officers of state, the judges, many members of parliament, the Lord Mayor, aldermen and sheriffs of the city and other representative notabilities. After all, this was expressly intended to be a representing of Scotland in a new light —new, at least, to the English—and it was important that the highest placed in England should be left in no doubt as to the significance of it all.