by Derek Gorman
“What really concerns me is the state of the nation, I really fear for the King,” mused Lord Sinclair.
“I agree,” said Lord Maitland. “The finances are constantly stretched. Suppliers don’t want to deal with the Royal Household. People are angry. And this impending marriage could be the end for the King, I fear. We are already financing one King with his travelling court and six palaces. The country cannot also finance a Queen with her own entourage and extravagances. The only hope is that the King takes the English throne soon and can subsidise his lifestyle through the English.”
“They won’t allow it. The English are too battle weary to allow extravagance from their monarchs. The days of Henry VIII are long gone.”
At the other end of the room, Jane Melville was feeling envious of Lady Maitland.
“Look at her,” remarked Jane. “She’s stood there and thinks she can have any man she wants. I don’t trust her. She’s only with Lord Maitland for the money.”
“The cat will take your tongue, Jane!” joked Mark to her.
“Sounds more like the cat, the panther, and the cockatoo will take her tongue!” contributed William.
The Ambassador clutched his quaiche tighter, probably wondering about whether his wife was with him for the right reasons. Perhaps he was merely wondering about the life that he was leading and wished for the woman he really loved.
His thoughts were interrupted as Lord Sinclair announced, “Men, smoking time”.
All the men made their apologies and went upstairs to the drawing room that had been converted into a bedchamber for the night. Smoking was a popular pastime. Its popularity spread rapidly ever since Sir Francis Drake returned with tobacco from an expedition to the New World. A servant bought five pipes and a large handful of tobacco on a silver platter for the men to pick up. Each prepared their pipe before another servant lit it. The room was quickly dim full of smoke.
“This will help with my headache,” remarked Lord Maitland.
“This will help with the cold I’ve been trying to shake off,” contributed Lord Sinclair.
“This will get rid of that back pain,” said Andrew, joining in.
“And this will help keep my energy up throughout the night, if you know what I mean!” William contributed crudely.
Tobacco was known as a cure for all ailments and a revolutionary medicine of the time. After a small period of silence, the Ambassador chipped in.
“Did you all know that tobacco comes from the New World? I’ve never seen an opportunity like this. Everyone was so excited about Russia, which was a monumental success - but this will be five times bigger. I’ve got…”
“Give it a rest, old man,” interrupted Lord Maitland, quite annoyed. “We’ve all been burnt by the English Armada. King James is taxing us to the hilt. His marriage will need paying for. And the New World is full of bandits, disease, enemies, and mysterious disappearances. Let’s just enjoy this tobacco.”
The Ambassador quietly accepted the interruption, but you could tell that he felt hurt. He also looked pensive, as if he knew that his glittering career full of golden contributions to Scotland was nearing the end.
“I don’t understand why Elizabeth is persisting with this war on the Spanish,” said Andrew to nobody in particular.
“Religion, my boy,” said Lord Maitland. “Spain has their own problems as the Catholics are weakening. They see what is happening here, and they are afraid of Protestant influence reaching their shores. Elizabeth is equally frightened about losing control to the Catholics.”
“Interesting, so when did the War begin?” asked Andrew.
“War has never been formally declared, it’s just a dispute that started as a few battles and has now raged on escalating each time,” answered Lord Maitland.
“You can pinpoint the start of the War, though,” interjected Lord Maitland. “It started four years ago when some merchant ships were seized in Spanish harbours. It was a turning point as the English Privy Council approved retaliation off the coast of the New World, which was our first sustained activity in that part of the world.”
“You see, the New World - all roads point there!” said the Ambassador.
Everybody groaned at that interjection but Andrew continued asking questions as he found it fascinating, “So what was the Spanish Armada all about?”
“Have you been on a farm for the last few years?” asked Willian, unhelpfully but everyone ignored him.
“Now - that is a very good question, boy,” said Lord Maitland. “It all began when Mary was executed. Although everyone knew that Mary wanted to marry that Dudley chap - she eventually agreed to marry King Philip of Spain, who became King of England. Upon her death, Elizabeth claimed the throne from him and so it was full out war between the Catholics of King Philip and the Protestants of Queen Elizabeth. And we all know who won.”
“You forgot to add the crux of the argument,” interjected Lord Sinclair. “In the eyes of the Catholic church, Henry VIII never divorced Catherine, making Elizabeth an illegitimate ruler. The English Reformation began when Henry VIII wanted to break away from the Pope and Rome so he could get divorced. Under English religious beliefs, Elizabeth is a legitimate Queen.”
A servant arrived and said quite nervously, “Apologies, everyone but we’ve just had word that the King will arrive here in a few minutes”
“Thank-you boy,” said Lord Sinclair. “Now everyone please start to finish your pipes and then rinse out your mouth with wine or whisky. The King is not a fan of tobacco and I don’t want him to make any of our lives difficult.”
The conversation then turned to a lighter topic.
“Did you enjoy your round of Golf?” asked Lord Sinclair to Lord Maitland.
“I did, St Andrews is a stunning course,” replied Lord Maitland.
“It is, nothing beats a day out on the course to get away from it all,” said Lord Sinclair.
“I agree,” chipped in Andrew.
Everyone was surprised. Golf was a game of gentlemen - how would Andrew have played golf?
“Which course did you play?” asked Lord Sinclair.
“Musselburgh Links was my favourite.” said Andrew.
Lord Sinclair and Lord Maitland raised their eyebrows, astonished. Musselburgh Links was supposed to be the oldest golf course in the world. They wondered how he played there, but they didn’t want to ask. Truth be told, it was Queen Mary who played there and Andrew was merely watching but he wanted to fit amongst the crowd so embellished his story a little.
With that, the men quickly finished their pipes and headed back downstairs for a dash of whisky, wine, or beer and then awaited the King’s arrival.
CHAPTER SIX
The King Arrives
Six carriages arrived carrying the King, his close advisors, and servants. It was a procession with two of the carriages only used to carry the King’s belongings such as robes, perfumes, and jewellery.
Everyone inside the Castle lined up in the corridor to greet and welcome the King. Lord Sinclair opened the front door and immediately stood next to the carriage. And he stood. And he waited. But the King was not leaving the carriage. Whispers began inside as to what might be the reason for the delay. Eventually, the door to the carriage swung open, and the King appeared.
The band of musicians had been positioned and immediately began playing some welcome music to make the King feel at home. There was no such thing as an official song of Scotland, so the band played a medley intended to inspire and energise the King.
King James was of average height but had bent legs that meant it looked awkward as he stepped forward. He was not a handsome man with a pointy chin and a goatee beard. His eyes looked dead inside with no sparkle. Slightly overweight as well did little to add to his charm.
“Welcome to Knockhall, your Majesty,” said Lord Sinclair, bowing.
“Thank-you, apologies I'm a little late. I fancied a bit of Golf in the morning. Only managed nine holes, but now I’m ready to celebra
te. Introduce me to everyone and then give me a tour of the place.”
And with that, Lord Sinclair took the King down the line. First up was Lady Sinclair, who did the most elegant of curtsies.
“Lady Sinclair,” began the King. “I’m glad you made an honest man out of this one and all the best on the one year wedding anniversary.” The King’s tones were warm, and he cradled Lady Sinclair’s arm as he gave her the congratulations.
“Thank-you, your Majesty. Please do make yourself at home here and thank-you for gracing us with your presence,” said Lady Sinclair with the King responding with a smile before moving firmly onto the next in line who was Lord Maitland.
“Maitland,” said the King sternly. “Good to have you here. Let’s talk about some business later.”
“Of course, your Majesty. Next stop the World?”
The King guffawed at this comment and then moved on to Lady Maitland. She stood there radiant with a gentle smile and then curtsied seductively, if that were possible.
“Why Lady Maitland, you look more radiant than ever,” observed the King.
“Oh your Majesty. You are too kind. I’ve been learning some poetry if the King would let his ears hear it later, but I’m too shy to have it heard in public so we must go somewhere private.”
The King wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was this an innuendo? But would Lady Maitland have done that in front of her husband? He must have been imagining it and assumed that were the case so he responded, “I’ll squeeze you in but apologies in advance if my disposition perhaps cannot keep its promise later on in the evening.”
The King shyly moved on to the next in line feeling very self conscious about his crooked walk and spotty face following the encounter with Lady Maitland. Next up was Andrew Melville. He curtsied.
“Thank-you,” said the King. And with that, he was gone. Onto the next in line. Another painful reminder for Andrew that he wasn’t the same as the other guests. Jane Melville received similar treatment with the King quickly passing her by after a momentary exchange of pleasantries. She seemed relieved at not having to make small talk.
He then made his way to the Ambassador who was hunched over and before he could curtsey, the King interrupted and said “Please don’t, there is no need.”
“Thank-you your Majesty, but I’d rather I did.” And with that, the Ambassador did a half curtsey before making a slight creaking sound on his way back up.
He then continued, “I understand that you will have some private audiences tonight.”
The King wasn’t sure why the Ambassador said that. He was here to celebrate, not to have a bunch of meetings. He figured that the Ambassador heard Lady Maitland’s proposal. The Ambassador then continued, “It is of the utmost importance if your Majesty could spare me five minutes later to hear about a proposal of the greatest significance for Scotland.”
“We’ll see,” replied the King before swiftly moving on.
Finally, it was the turn of the poets to greet the King. William was first, who did the obligatory curtsey.
“I see you’ve made it back from Denmark in one piece,” enquired the King.
“Yes, what a strange place the Danish Kingdom is. Very different to Scotland. I must tell you all about it,”
“Yes, you must. Later, later.”
And finally it was onto Mark. The ruggedly handsome poet who had an exotic upbringing stood there like a farmhand waiting to carry his crops. The King laid eyes on Mark and said nothing at first. His eyes started at his face, noticing his blue eyes and chiselled chin, and then made his way down to his torso and then all the way down to his feet. He then looked back into Mark’s eyes.
“So you are this other poet I’ve heard much about?” asked the King.
“I wouldn’t know what you’ve heard your Majesty. But rest assured, you will have heard about me by the end of the night.”
The King wasn’t sure what was going on. Why did everyone want private meetings with him? And was he really propositioned multiple times walking the line? Perhaps it was tiredness from the journey he had just taken. And with that, he beckoned to Lord Sinclair to give him the grand tour.
Lord Sinclair was a little self conscious as it was a rather small castle compared to the King’s palaces. He led the King up the staircase to the banqueting hall, which was beautifully decorated. The musicians who weren’t standing immediately did so and curtseyed from a distance. The King acknowledged them.
“This is the banqueting hall,” began Lord Sinclair, much like a tour guide. “The room is obviously only one element of the evening. The people, the entertainment, and the food will make or break the evening,”.
They then went upstairs to see the King’s quarters for the night.
“You have my chamber for the night so please use this as if it were your own and let me know if there is anything else that is needed to make your stay more comfortable.”
The King stroked his chin as he looked around the room. It was ample enough, so he waved his hand as a sign that this would suffice. Lord Sinclair looked pleased that the tour had gone well. This wasn’t the most extensive of tours, but in reality a host could only show the King the best areas of the castle. Showing the kitchens or pantry was definitely not the done thing.
Before they returned downstairs, Lord Sinclair had one last surprise for the King. He pulled out a bottle of whisky from the Guild of Surgeon Barbers, Dundee. The finest producers of whisky in all of Scotland. It was their rarest bottle. The King’s eyes lit up at seeing the bottle.
Whisky had quickly been welcomed into Scottish way of life after being discovered one hundred years earlier. What really give it a boost was the shutting down of monasteries during the Scottish Reformation which meant that monks had to figure out a way to make a living. Their solution was whisky production. The Guild of Surgeon Barbers was thought to produce the best because the only anaesthetic that a surgeon could give their patient would be a whisky.
“You have done well here, Sinclair,” proclaimed the King. “A bottle such as this. Open it at once and let’s have a taste.”
Lord Sinclair did as instructed and poured two measures into quaiches for himself and the King. They both sat down and this offer of the finest Whisky had bought a private audience with the King, whether or not wanted. The King sipped his drink.
“So tell me, Sinclair,” began the King. “As a father, do you feel that burden of responsibility? That you must do what is right even if your family cannot see the rationale for why.”
“Yes I do,” replied a considerate Lord Sinclair. “The role of Father and head of the household gives me the energy to do what I do. Whilst I appreciate our journey together, the reality is that providing my family the status that we have is the primary motivation.”
The King didn’t really appreciate this, thinking it was the answer of a simple mind. “I think you miss the point. Being a father is not about providing the best for the family. It is a duty to provide what the family needs. For example, Lord Newham or was it Lord Newsham, something or other, his son had the trappings of wealth and died at 17 due to foolish adventures. What he needed was an element of poverty. The role of Father is the same as my role as King. I don’t have 2 or 4 children, I have over a million children. That is a burden. What you have are petty problems and a man’s selfish desires to look after his own. I have a burden on over a million people. These are just laws of nature.”
Lord Sinclair was a little surprised at the deep philosophical nature of the conversation given it was an evening of celebration, but he topped up both quaiches with the Whisky and then responded.
“I guess you are right. I cannot comprehend the level of responsibility that you have. It is something that someone like me could never understand.”
That response was a smart political move by Lord Sinclair, as he knew that the King would lap it up.
“You are right,” confirmed the King. “The other interesting aspect is the bond of love that I have with Scotland and tha
t Scotland has with me. When I enter a town, people aren’t on the streets because of fear or respect, whilst they do have those for my position, the real driver is the love they have for me. I am not a man but I am in this position thanks to God and no earthly being can judge me. The love that the people have is the same love that your children have for you, Sinclair. Sometimes they’ll be cross with you, sometimes they will be happy with you. Ultimately, they love you. The people love me.”
“I fully agree,” said Lord Sinclair. He didn’t really understand the grandiose statements coming, and he was sure that whilst some people loved the King, the majority simply accepted it as a way of life.
“The thing that makes me angry,” began the King raising his voice, “are the people who opine on how I spend my money or the decisions I make in court. They do not understand their role. A son doesn’t strike his Father. A son doesn't rise up against his father. Look at the animal kingdom, you see the paternal nature of all animals. There is only one animal that strikes against his own Father and that is the viper. The lowest of all animals. A viper. A reptile that signifies the biggest betrayal on earth. Lord Sinclair, are you a viper?”
Lord Sinclair was taken aback by this accusation. “Me, a viper? Sir, I have always been at your loyal command. Do you not remember how I signed a bond to you when you were merely 13 years old? Do you not remember how I supported you during the Raid of Ruthven? What about when I was part of the team to get the Treaty of Berwick signed only three years earlier to create your path to become King of Scotland and England? I have shown nothing but loyalty to you, your Majesty.”
The King stood up and walked over to where Lord Sinclair was sitting. He had a stern look on his face and looked straight into the whites of Lord Sinclair’s eyes. There was a momentary silence that seemed like an hour. The King then burst out laughing.
