The Gowrie Conspiracy

by Alanna Knight

  Back on to the main staircase, Alexander pointed to a door into the family apartments and said, ‘We shall find you a place there, Tam.’ Another door and they were in the Great Gallery hung with paintings which Alexander pointed out had been gathered from all over Europe by his father.

  ‘Facing south it was the warmest and most welcoming area of the house. Windows gazed down on sunny tree-lined gardens. Beyond them like a twisting silver ribbon, the River Tay.

  ‘This is magnificent,’ Tam said.

  Alexander sighed. ‘It is indeed. It was the inspiration of our late father, the Earl who had it built and supervised its decoration,’ indicating the painted ceiling with its ornate cornices and carved wooden panels depicting scenes from Greek mythology. And leading the way across the floor, ‘The gallery extends above the dining-room and the hall we have just left and over there,’ he pointed to the right to a door in the wall. ‘That is the Gallery Chamber. Its windows face on to the Shoe Gait.’

  Tam followed him into the room. It was so cold after the warmth of the Gallery with its sunny windows, that it gave him a sense of shock, as if ice had been thrown over him. At the extremity of one wall a door led into a turret, a small circular-shaped study where one window looked down to the gateway, the other to the street.

  Alexander was opening a small door to the right. At first glance, Tam thought this to be a cupboard, since it was completely dark.

  ‘Down there is the Black Turnpike. Now you will observe how easy it is to reach the upper floor by anyone entering the quadrangle and avoiding the main door.’

  The Gallery Chamber was empty, one wall draped loosely by a curtain. Even on this warm August day the room had a brooding atmosphere which chilled Tam to the bone.

  He wondered if Alexander felt it too as he went across and dragged the curtain aside, to reveal the full-length portrait of a man in fine robes. A falcon on his wrist, deerhounds staring up into his face, he stood proud but faintly smiling against the distant backdrop of what was presumably Ruthven Castle.

  ‘That is my father, Tam. The man the king so cruelly put to death,’ said Alexander, his voice bitter and angry. ‘I hardly knew him. I was only three years old, but I loved him. Indeed, I do still love him and it is my whole life’s intention to avenge his death.’

  Tam said nothing. This was the same statement Alexander had made at Kirktillo, the same sentiments which he guessed were expressed over and over again to all who would give him hearing.

  Treasonable sentiments which could be extremely dangerous if they ever reached King James’s ears.

  Alexander was regarding him eagerly as if he expected some response.

  The appearance of a servant at the other end of the gallery saved Tam the necessity of emphasising once again that such schemes were doomed to disaster and would inevitably end with the hangman’s rope and the drawing and quartering reserved for traitors.

  The servant announced that the Earl wished to speak with his brother.

  Alexander took Tam by the arm. ‘How selfish I am being, keeping you to myself like this. John must also be waiting impatiently to welcome you to Gowrie House.’

  Tam followed him downstairs to the dining-room, now occupied by the Earl with a spread of papers on the table so that his first impression was not of welcome but of intrusion.

  As Alexander pushed him forward, introducing him with great affection, John looked askance and with an impatient frown and set down his pen. Embarrassed by Alexander’s fulsome manner, John’s reaction suggested that his request for his brother’s company was for some matter to be discussed privately. He had not expected to see him accompanied by Tam Eildor.

  Although John greeted him civilly enough, could Tam have read his thoughts, they would have revealed some surprise and confusion that this newcomer, who he had understood from Tansy was to be employed by them as steward, had been suddenly elevated to his brother’s dearest friend and their honoured guest.

  John hoped that his misgivings were not evident for this was a path he had walked wearily many times before. His impetuous younger brother, the Master of Ruthven, lacked all discernment in choosing companions. This man Eildor was typical of the kind of friend he would often choose from a lower strata of society.

  A better choice, he had to admit, than Robert Logan who John dismissed as a dangerous plotter and cautioned his brother against as a reckless schemer.

  Certainly this man Eildor was unusual enough to stand out in any crowd. Not a flamboyant character like Logan, rather the opposite. Scholarly and reserved but neither sly-seeming or secretive.

  Taller than average, well-built, his looks were strange. There was something about his face that John had never encountered before in a man and yet it was familiar and he suddenly realised what had been lurking at the back of his mind.

  Eildor bore a strange resemblance to their foster-sister Tansy. Had he hit upon the very reason why he appealed so strongly to Alexander, John thought triumphantly?

  Poor Alexander, periodically in hopeless infatuation for some fine lady or other who was older, married and either inaccessible or unresponsive to him, had always been a little in love with his foster-sister.

  Regarding Eildor, however, John was certain his feelings towards this man were not unnatural, since he was tired of having to listen to the tale of Alexander’s attempted seduction by King James and how he had fled to understanding Queen Anne. He had also been in love with her and hinted that she returned his affection.

  ‘Do not encourage her for that is a dangerous pursuit for a queen,’ John had remarked. ‘Heads have fallen for less.’

  John sighed. The sooner his brother found a wife, the better and there was an interesting possibility of matchmaking in the immediate future. After his sermon at St John’s Kirk on Tuesday, he was proposing to break his journey to Dirleton to see his mother by calling on Lady Margaret Douglas at Seaton Palace.

  John had met Lady Margaret several times and found her company quite delightful. Teased by Alexander, he had slyly mentioned her younger sister who he had to reluctantly admit was clever as well as being the acknowledged beauty of the family.

  John soon realised his error. He should have known better. Experience should have taught him that anything he suggested or hinted at prompted immediate opposition. This was no exception. His gentle proposal regarding a visit to Seaton Palace received the inevitable reaction.

  ‘I cannot bear clever young maidens. They never learn how to laugh and they take life far too seriously. But the sister sounds a good choice for you, brother, for you must take a wife, and soon.’

  When John did not comment or appear to take this message to heart, Alexander continued solemnly, ‘You must provide an heir for our dynasty. If you do not marry then my son will be the Earl of Gowrie some day.’

  John laughed. ‘You are racing ahead of yourself, Alexander. First get your wife, then your son – and then come back to me with your warning.’

  Thinking it over though, John decided that Alexander was right, for once. The title inherited early carried with it undoubted responsibilities. Many lairds and noble lords of his acquaintance had already produced heirs by the dynastic necessity of arranged marriages at the age of twenty-two.

  Thus far he had never met the one woman who so outshone all others that he yearned to spent the rest of his life with her alone. Had he been so inclined, the alternative of taking a mistress was forbidden by strict adherence to his Presbyterian principles.

  He decided that he could afford to be leisurely about the future. Time was on his side. Time without the encumbrance of a wife, to indulge in his scholarly activities and the fascinating subjects opened up to him in Padua, especially necromancy and alchemy.

  Dining together that first evening, Tam’s first impression that the two Ruthvens were poles apart was confirmed over the meal that evening. While they did not actively quarrel over any particular topic under discussion, their personalities were constantly at war with each other and unrelated even
by colouring, John was taller, tougher looking with thick fair hair, a beard and the high cheekboned face of the Lowland Scot while Alexander, red-haired, slight and mercurial leaned towards Celtic origins.

  Living under the same roof with the brothers promised to be a trial. Without serving any useful purpose at Gowrie House, except to play friend and honoured guest for Alexander’s benefit until Tansy returned, Tam realised he had found himself in the middle of a somewhat trying domestic situation.

  With John vaguely disapproving of his presence and ready to throw cold water on Alexander’s wild schemes that smelt of treason and danger, the future seemed to stretch endlessly ahead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After the meal, Tam sighed with relief when the conversation switched to the less inflammatory topic of the young Earl’s travels in Europe. In Geneva he had met the famous reformer Beza who, he alleged, was devoted to him. After Switzerland came Paris where he met, among others, the exiled Francis Stewart, fifth Earl of Bothwell, and bastard nephew of Will’s father, James Hepburn.

  Together they had laughed over Francis’ attempts to terrify King James and become a perpetual thorn in his flesh. A more productive meeting had been with the English ambassador, Sir Robert Cecil who, in common with Bothwell, had little cause to love King James.

  Accepting Cecil’s invitation to the English court, John soon discovered that Elizabeth had found no good reason to change her opinion of James as “that false Scotch urchin”.

  ‘What thought you of the Queen of England?’ asked Tam curiously.

  John smiled. ‘A formidable lady indeed. No one could doubt she was her father King Harry’s daughter. Not one would wish to make an enemy of.’

  ‘How can you say that, brother?’ demanded Alexander. And to Tam, ‘He is being modest as usual.’

  ‘I was very well received.’

  ‘And although she is never lavish with her gifts, you were given a cabinet of plate,’ said Alexander sharply.

  ‘No doubt they thought I might be useful to them,’ said John.

  ‘Perhaps you allowed them to believe that you had more influence with King James than was completely truthful,’ said Alexander somewhat bitterly. ‘Why do you not tell Tam about how jealous he was of your reception by the queen, his many jests and petty taunts?’

  And to Tam he added, ‘We have it on good authority that when crowds came out to welcome John’s return to Edinburgh, the king said that there were more with his father when he went to the scaffold. Do I not speak truth, brother?’

  John shook his head. ‘As we did not hear it with our own ears, we can only dismiss it as rumour.’

  ‘You are so – reasonable,’ said Alexander fiercely. ‘Even about a man as treacherous and murderous as the king. Have you no stomach for revenge after all he has inflicted on this family?’

  And they were back again on Alexander’s favourite hobby-horse. A merciful interruption by the steward Henderson had Alexander leaping to his feet and leaving John and Tam alone at the table.

  John swilled the wine in his goblet, regarded it thoughtfully and asked, ‘Tell me about yourself, Master Eildor.’

  ‘There is not a lot to tell, sir. Not a great deal of note happens in Peebles,’ and quickly changing what might become a dangerous and awkward subject to lie about, he said, ‘I was pleased to visit my cousin Tansy at Falkland. Life at the Palace was an interesting new experience.’

  ‘And Gowrie House is yet another.’ Raising his goblet, John added with a laugh, ‘I wish you joy of it, for once Tansy returns I do not doubt she will keep us all in order,’ Bowing, he excused himself. ‘I have matters to attend to. I wish you goodnight.’

  It was growing dusk outside, the long gloaming of a Scottish summer, and Tam decided on a walk through the gardens and down to the river. The fish would be leaping for insects flying above the water. Such peace would make an agreeable end to the day.

  Descending the stairs, he heard whispered voices and came upon Alexander in earnest conversation with Henderson, who was looking ill-at-ease.

  Not wishing to interrupt what appeared to be some domestic crisis, Tam turned on his heel.

  Alexander saw him and looking guilty said, ‘I apologise for abandoning you to John’s hospitality.’

  As Alexander dismissed Henderson, who was showing a tendency to linger, Tam said hurriedly, ‘My apologies. Please do not let me interrupt you.’

  With little desire for Alexander’s company on his quiet evening stroll he abandoned the project and said, ‘I was considering retiring if you would be so good as to show me to my room.’

  ‘A pleasure, dear Tam.’

  Climbing the stair, Alexander led the way to the family apartments alongside the gallery and opened the door into a small but comfortable bedchamber overlooking the courtyard and stables. Thanking him, Tam’s relief at being able to retire was short-lived.

  Taking his arm firmly Alexander said, ‘But you are not for bed yet, Tam, for I have one more place, a very special one, that I have decided to show you.’

  He led the way along the Great Gallery. In the curious twilight glow with the rags of a sunset, paintings took on a spectral life. Trees in sombre landscapes seemed to move and castle windows gleamed anew, high above rivers whose waters sparkled and endlessly flowed.

  They had almost reached the door leading to the Gallery Chamber when Alexander turned and said, ‘I am about to let you into a great secret. But first I must have your promise that you will tell no one.’

  Wondering what it was all about, Tam was too curious to refuse. ‘You have my word.’

  Alexander nodded approval. ‘In particular you must promise not to tell my brother,’ he added urgently, pulling aside a tapestry that hid part of the wall.

  ‘Here is magic for you, Tam. Behold!’ and touching a carved wooden leaf, the panel slid open to reveal a tiny staircase leading upwards. ‘Follow me.’

  Tam could scarcely stand upright in the room, which was no more than six feet high and seven feet square. There was no window to the outside but faint light was provided by an oblong at eye level.

  ‘What do you think of my secret place?’ whispered Alexander and without waiting for a reply, ‘This is a priest’s hole. Built by my grandfather, for those were troubled times and he favoured the Catholic cause.’

  Angling Tam towards the faint light, he said excitedly, ‘Look down there – what do you see?’

  Below him, Tam saw the whole of the Gallery Chamber with its corner turret. Like a stage set, every part was clearly visible, barring the entrance door directly under where he stood.

  ‘Is it not wonderful?’ asked Alexander.

  Tam laughed softly. ‘It is quite incredible. I do not recall this – ’ he pointed to the oblong frame.

  ‘That was because it just appeared as part of the ceiling above the door. What you are looking through is very fine glass thinly painted to resemble wood from inside the chamber. And therefore invisible. It came from Italy, is it not a marvellous invention?’

  Tam agreed but before he could question the use of such an elaborate device, Alexander said, ‘My grandfather considered it useful if he had a priest hidden away, but at other times it served as a laird’s lug – and eye. He would invite those he distrusted to meet in the turret chamber below and listen to their conversations. And I believe it has also been the bridal chamber on occasion, so that the activities of the bedding might be enjoyed in secret by the guests.’

  He laughed. ‘Now, is it not a marvel?’

  Tam could only agree. Whatever his thoughts concerning the revelations of the Earl’s ingenuity in spying on his guests, he had to remember Gowrie House had been built in troubled and dangerous times.

  Alexander was in no hurry to leave. Clearly, he wished Tam to enjoy and relish the prospect offered by the laird’s eye.

  It was remarkable. One window looked out on the front court gate and main entrance to the house, the other window opened on to the main street. This was the most publ
icly situated room in the house, a great vantage point for an earl who was also a voyeur.

  Although the light was fading, Tam could see the church spire, the wooded hills and he could both see and hear the citizens of Perth walking or riding homewards down the main Shoe Gait beyond the house walls.

  So the laird’s eye served another more useful purpose, he decided, as an eeyrie from which a watchful eye could be kept on what was happening by conspirators within, and approaching enemies without, Gowrie House.

  Returning towards Tam’s bedchamber, Alexander said, ‘Sleep well, dear friend. And sleep late,’ he added mysteriously, ‘for you will not see me. I am for Falkland.’

  Tam smiled. ‘I am an early riser from habit. Why Falkland?’

  ‘I go hunting with His Grace the king,’ was the mocking reply. ‘My brother also had an invitation to join the hunt, but he will be sermonising at the kirk. So I am to go alone.’

  This was indeed a change of heart thought Tam. ‘This is indeed good news. So you are to be on friendly terms with the king once more.’

  ‘Only for an hour or two,’ said Alexander firmly. ‘I am to bring him here to Gowrie.’ Pausing, he gave Tam an intense look. ‘It is all part of my plan. My great plan.’ Tam’s heart sank. What mad scheme had he in mind? Surely he was not still planning to kidnap the king. And what was more important, thought Tam, how could such a disaster in the making be prevented?

  ‘What plan is this?’ he asked, knowing full well.

  ‘A new one, Tam. The king cannot resist a treasure. And we have one such in our possession, under our very roof here at Gowrie.’

  Pausing to give Tam a look of triumph, he said, ‘This is a treasure that has eluded him for years and years. He has searched high and low in vain. What do you think about that, Tam?’

  ‘It must be very important indeed.’

  ‘It is, it is! His very life depends on it. His very future as king of England and Scotland when Queen Elizabeth dies, depends on his finding it.’