With a sigh, for it would need daylight for him to identify the house he sought, Tam reluctantly decided that his visit must wait until morning, despite the gnawing sense of urgency that time was not on his side.
The sooner he made contact and warned the man of Mistress Agnew’s death the better. He could not shake off an ominous feeling that if, as he suspected, her murder had been premeditated, then he might already be too late and the man himself in dire peril.
He reached his room in Tansy’s lodging only seconds before he heard Will ascending the turnpike stair. Relieved that he had been spared the encounter, as always Tam slept without dreaming and awoke refreshed to birdsong early next morning.
Hearing the murmur of voices from Tansy’s parlour and Will’s deep voice, he decided that the only way to avoid a meeting was to remain where he was until Will departed.
Turning on his side, he slept again and awoke to silence to find himself alone in the lodging. Breaking his fast on bread, cheese and ale which had been left out for him, Tam reflected that Will would be heading for Edinburgh and Tansy, no doubt, about the queen’s business.
As it was a fine morning with the promise of another pleasant summer day, Tam decided to take the short cut across the gardens. As he strolled he began to recognise again the sense of antiquity that stretched well beyond the palace; the sense of a land settled by an ancient race long-forgotten, nestling at the base of the Lomond Hill. On the distant horizon, bluehazed to the west of the prehistoric hill fort of East Lomond, with the Pictish slab Tansy had pointed out to him on one of their walks to the Maiden Castle, stood another hill fort with cup and ring marks whose interpretation was lost long ago.
The site of the palace had been granted to the Macduff Earls of Fife in the 12th century and passed to Robert Stewart, later Duke of Albany in 1371. Gazing up at its lofty grey walls untouched by sunlight, its windows deep and dark in cold morning shadow held secret tales of savage cruelty and treachery not unknown in royal palaces. Here, on the site of the present magnificent Palace, David, Duke of Rothesay, eldest son of King Robert III, was kept prisoner and starved to death by his uncle Albany in 1402.
The 15th century saw the lands reverted to the Crown and the modest castle had become the favourite hunting seat of the Scottish kings who were James’s ancestors. A hundred years ago in 1500, the king’s great-grandfather, James IV, began construction of Falkland Palace. Completed by his grandfather James V as a royal residence, it was made up of buildings which formed three sides of an informal quadrangle The great south range with its twin-storeyed gatehouse, built in the style of the French Renaissance and containing the chapel royal, faced on to the burgh’s main street.
Tam crossed the inner courtyard of the east range with its royal lodgings and emerged into the gardens whose shaded walks and high hedges afforded privacy for dalliance and for conspiracy.
His head down deep in thought, too late he became aware of voices and found himself in the path of King James, who was accompanied by several of his courtiers and leaning on the arm of the Duke of Lennox.
Tam bowed low and stepped aside for them to pass, hoping that he would be invisible as the king, clutching his beribboned staff, talked loudly to Lennox.
Tam was unlucky. James saw him, stopped and said, ‘Bide a wee, Vicky.’ And beaming in Tam’s direction. ‘Weel now, if it isna the fisherman again. What brings ye here, Master Eildor?’
Without waiting for the reply which Tam was already framing, he went on, ‘Are ye here to rescue your king from a matter as dire as yon runaway horse?’ and put his hand to his lips in a conspiratorial manner.
Tam bowed. Some response was expected of him. ‘What would that be, sire?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Being bored to death – by idle chatter, aye, that’s it, the company o’ fools,’ said James. Slapping his thigh and doubling up with mirth at his own wit, he darted hard looks at the courtiers who were obliged to fall about with suitable exclamations of merriment.
James gave a satisfied grunt and said, ‘We are on our way to the tennis court, Master Eildor, and we would have you accompany us.’
That was a command and Tam bowed again.
‘Walk with us,’ said James. ‘Here at your king’s side,’ he added. Giving Tam an appreciative glance, ‘We will lean on Master Eildor. He looks as if he might bear his monarch’s weight,’ he added with a faint leer and, pushing Lennox unceremoniously aside, he gestured to Tam to take his place.
Although Lennox bowed out gracefully enough, Tam was aware of the venomous look that boded ill for him.
‘And does our simple fisherman play the game?’ James demanded.
Tam thought quickly. He knew something of ancient games and was interested enough to meet the challenge. Realising that to refuse would displease the king, he hoped that his bow and accompanying smile conveyed sufficient enthusiasm. As well as curiosity to see the royal court in action, the occasion promised a rare opportunity to enjoy some serious exercise.
On one of their walks Tansy she had told him that the game was introduced into Scotland and built at Falkland by the king’s grandfather, a great enthusiast for all things French, in the year before his death in 1492.
Its origins were as “jes des paume”, game of the palm, some 300 years earlier by monks playing handball against the monastery walls.
‘The word “tennis” is from the French “tenez” – “take this” – as one player served to another across a rope in the courtyard,’ Tansy told him. ‘Bare hands at first became a glove with webbing between the fingers, succeeded by a solid paddle. Now they use a long handled racket with a ball of hair, wool or cork, wrapped in string or leather.
‘His Grace restored the court neglected for many years and plays regularly. For a man who seems often clumsy in his movements, his game – according to his courtiers – is like his horsemanship, quite excellent.’
Tansy had smiled wryly and added, ‘Sometimes I suspect that they let him win.’
Tam was remembering Tansy’s words as they entered the court. A stone floor surrounded by four high walls with a service and hazard end, open to the sky. The net was a simple cord made visible by the addition of tassels, five feet at either end dipping to three feet in the centre. The onlookers were protected by a partition on the right hand side of the court.
At the king’s request, Lennox explained the rules and method of scoring to Tam, very fast and somewhat incomprehensibly and giving him no opportunity for questions. Then without further ado a racket was thrust into his hands and Lennox announced to James that they were ready to begin.
James shuffled forward to Tam’s side and, showing slightly more consideration, asked, ‘D’ye ken fine all Vicky’s instructions, Master Eildor?’
‘I believe so, Your Grace,’ said Tam, bewildered and sounding considerably more confident than he felt at that moment.
‘Then we are ready, sire,’ said Lennox taking up his racket and looking steadily at Tam.
‘No’ you, Vicky. Step aside,’ said James shortly and sucking in his lips, he said slowly, ‘We wish to set Master Eildor against Johnnie here.’ And to Tam, ‘The lad is a fine player, best in our court.’ With a sly shake of his head, he added, ‘Aye, Johnnie Ramsay will be able to teach our simple fisherman a thing or twa, nae doot.’
Tam groaned inwardly. He did not doubt that either for John Ramsay at sixteen had the face of an angel combined, according to rumour, with a waspish tongue and a cruel and vicious streak.
Ramsay squared his shoulders, smiled and bowed to James before eyeing Tam with an expression of contempt, certain that this man twice his age would be an easy opponent.
Although Lennox had no liking for Ramsay he was similarly pleased, certain that Tam defeated and looking foolish would go down several notches in James’s estimation. And that was splendid news, he decided, watching the two men strip off their outer garments.
For Tam it was a simple matter or removing his leather jerkin, leaving him in breeches and
shirt. For Ramsay, however, it was a very different ritual, clad in heavy doublet, padded breeches and thigh boots.
But it appeared that fashion set by the king must be followed in court, regardless of the weather, which indicated that there was already heat in the sun despite the early hour.
James had not yet retired behind the partition and stood alongside the two men eagerly watching Tam who said, ‘If your Grace permits, I would also remove my boots. I prefer to play in bare feet.’
‘Aye, ye do that, mannie, ye do just that,’ said the king excitedly, lingering to gaze with delight at Tam’s well-shaped feet and ankles while Ramsay looked on with disgust at such a common man’s vulgar notion.
He would soon show this upstart the error of his ways. His supercilious smile towards the onlookers indicated that he was already confident of the result, a victory that was also a waste of his precious time and talent on such an unworthy opponent.
James addressed the courtiers waiting to escort him to his seat, ‘A wager – gentlemen. A wager – ma Siller on Master Eildor,’ and so saying he took from his pocket a purse which he handed to Vicky Stewart who, after a swift glance at the contents, sighed with relief.
James was known to be cautious about his silver as well as frequently and conveniently forgetful to pay up when he lost a wager.
‘Tis a warm day,’ the king said, ‘we believe ye’d play better were ye bare-chested,’ and to Ramsay, ‘Mannie lad, ye’d better strip down also, then ye’ll be evenly matched.’
An expression of distaste hastily concealed twisted Ramsay’s mouth at having to obey this royal command.
As Tam removed his shirt, the king glanced from one to the other and noted with considerable pleasure and excitement that Master Eildor was, as he had expected, a fine well-set up figure o’ a man, broad in chest and shoulders.
Alongside him, James and the assembled courtiers, some who were jealous rivals, could not help but observe with considerable satisfaction, that Ramsay looked what he was, a mere boy who had not yet reached manhood’s maturity.
With a gamesman to keep the score, the king took his seat and gave the signal for play to begin. As each sent the volley of balls across the net, Tam, who had an excellent eye and was well co-ordinated, was soon ahead of Ramsay who, although the more experienced player, had his speed of movement considerably hampered by the heat and his unwieldy attire.
Used to having the king as his opponent, whose enthusiasm was greater than his skill, Ramsay soon discovered that he was being beaten by Eildor. And the more James applauded the score, the angrier and more flustered Ramsay became which did little for his prowess.
At last James held up his hand. ‘Enough. The game is over.’
Ramsay stared at him defiantly, since he had scored that last two points and was still hopeful of victory. ‘Sire?’ he pleaded.
James shook his head. ‘Nay, I have seen enough. Da locum melioribus – give way to your betters.’
Ramsay’s bow failed to hide his furious countenance which delighted his rivals for the king’s favours, gratified to witness the young upstart’s humiliation at the hands of a common man – and one old enough to be his father.
The score was counted. Tam had won by twelve points and the king applauded
‘I have won my wager,’ he said eagerly, snatching his purse back from Lennox.
Meanwhile Tam approached Ramsay to gallantly offer his hand to a defeated opponent whereupon the boy turned his back rudely and strode off the court. Watching him, Tam realised sadly that he had made an enemy; an unforgivable insult for a king’s favourite to lose face by defeat.
He was surprised when the king came forward humbly carrying his shirt and jerkin over his arm. Smiling broadly he came close enough to touch Tam.
‘Well done, Master Eildor, well done. And ye won our wager for us. Here, put it on,’ he said holding out the shirt. ‘Ye’ll catch a fever,’ he added anxiously. ‘Ye’re too heated.’
Not as heated as Your Grace, thought Tam wryly, regarding James’s flushed countenance. The brooding eyes misted with excitement and Tam tried not to wince as his bare arm was gently caressed by the royal hand as it emerged from the sleeve of his shirt.
‘Good strong muscles there, Master Eildor. Aye, fine indeed,’ James added with a sigh, smacking his lips. ‘But what have we here – this mark? Have ye been hurt?’ he said anxiously, touching a dark triangle on Tam’s forearm.
‘A mere bruise, your Grace,’ said Tam, thinking quickly.
‘A bruise, is it?’ James asked doubtfully. ‘It looks ugly.’
‘It will soon heal, your Grace,’ was the consoling reply.
James continued to look concerned. ‘We trust so, Master Eildor. We would not wish for you to take ill from such a bruise. We could have our physician bleed you, just to make certain.’
Tam shook his head. ‘That will not be necessary, Your Grace. Please rest assured it is nothing.’
But the king’s discovery was calamitous for Tam. The crystal charmstone formerly worn around his neck had been superseded, as too obvious and potentially dangerous, by a tiny microchip under the skin marked by a triangle, his sole connection with the life he had temporarily abandoned.
His first instinct had been to inform the king that this was a birthmark. But thinking quickly, he had thought better of it. Mention of birthmarks might have aroused thoughts of witchcraft in King James’s mind.
Tam looked around anxiously. He did not think that any had witnessed the scene but he could not be sure about Lennox who hovered nearby within earshot.
Although Lennox gave no indication that he had overheard or had been interested in the king’s concern, Tam realised that he must take care to keep his arms covered in future.
James was gesturing to the courtiers. ‘Go you ahead. Master Eildor will escort us.’ And leaning heavily on Tam’s arm, Tam was very conscious of the angry looks in his direction by both Lennox and Ramsay, united for once in their distaste for the king’s obvious infatuation.
‘Still bide wi’ Mistress Scott, d’ye?’ the king asked conversationally.
‘I am, sire.’
James frowned. ‘That will no’ do. We would wish to see you in better lodging.’
‘Sire?’
‘Aye, Master Eildor. In our royal apartments yonder. There is rom enough.’
‘As Your Grace wishes.’ Tam hoped that his bow indicated gratitude and his voice expressed enthusiasm for this honour but he was secretly dismayed.
To be in close and convenient daily contact with the king and under the watchful jealous eyes of his court was the last thing he desired. As well as unpleasant and embarrassing , it could be extremely dangerous.
James delighted, beamed on him. ‘We will arrange it forthwith.’
And that will not add any to my popularity either, thought Tam grimly. Being courted by King James when one thing was certain. In the life that was temporarily lost to him, sodomy had not played a role, since in his quest period he remained true to his nature, a young man who was susceptible to females.
Especially to Tansy Scott, to whom he was irresistibly drawn, but who, sadly for him had a happy and long-term relationship with Will Hepburn.
He wished them both well. And he cursed the veil chance that had made him irresistible to the amorous King who stared up into his face with such adoration.
Chapter Six
King James did not relinquish his grip on Tam’s arm as they reached the entrance to the royal apartments and Tam realised that his hopes for a speedy release were to be thwarted.
Accompanied by the courtiers a short distance behind them, the king led the way through saluting guards and bowing servants up a handsome staircase and along a corridor into the royal bedchamber, where servants awaited to remove his outer garments and dress him in a less restricting robe.
Tam, feeling the king’s eyes resting upon him during this procedure, turned his attention to the contents of the ornate furnishing of the vast room, dominate
d by the king’s bed on a raised dais, ornamented with the royal coat of arms and curtained in crimson velvet.
The bedchamber was also King James’s informal room of state and this throne-like object of furniture provided the acme of royal comfort. His bed was also the centre of his kingdom; in whichever royal palace he lived the massive bed accompanied him. And from its depths of floating pillows, James wearing his high hat with its ostrich feathers, held audience and received ambassadors from England, France and Spain.
Here he planned his days, read and wrote learned works and poems and in moments of leisure commanded entertainment by the court jester whose bawdy jokes and suggestive contortions were very much to James’s taste.
When the candles of evenings were lit, it became a background for more intimate scenes of carousings and caressings accompanied by considerable amounts of food and wine. Music was provided by a small orchestra of frustrated musicians, whose flutes and fiddlers were seldom audible above the raucous sounds of merriment.
Tam was anxious to be gone, exceedingly embarrassed and out of place under the glaring, resentful eyes of James’s courtiers while trying to remain oblivious to their behindhand whispers concerning this shabby interloper.
How had such a wretched man managed to worm his way into His Grace’s affections? Such poor, unfashionable clothes, with breeches and shirt as the poorest peasants wore. Not even the meanest of royal servants would have been seen in public in such attire.
That such a lowly ill-dressed creature was capable of attracting His Grace’s attention. Most of the courtiers were of royal blood or young noblemen and all were swift to recognise this newcomer as a threat to their personal futures, their jewels and favours, not to mention their security at court and ultimate honours and estates. In that moment they were united and John Ramsay’s injured pride was soothed as they gathered protectively around him.
For his part, Tam would have been only too delighted to give the courtiers reassurance that, much as they wanted rid of him, he would be glad to be relieved of the king’s favour.
The Gowrie Conspiracy Page 6
