by Derek Gorman
Lord Maitland then made his way to the Moore who was in deep discussion with the Ladies and the Melville’s.
“Moore, I was so impressed with your performance tonight that I wanted to give you a personal gift.” began Lord Maitland. “I have in my hand, a certificate for shares in a Joint Stock Company. Do you know what a Joint Stock Company is?”
The Moore didn’t, so he nodded his head to signify no - but he could tell this was an important piece of paper.
“Well, this piece of paper means that the holder of it owns 1% of the English Armada. Given that there were 150 ships, this means that the holder of this piece of paper owns 1 and a half ships. The ships, the crew and, more importantly, everything that the ship brings from abroad. That all goes to the holder of this piece of paper.”
“That is impressive. I didn’t know that a piece of paper could do that,” said the Moore.
“It can, and guess what, this piece of paper is now yours. My gift to you for your magical performance.” And with that, Lord Maitland handed the Moore the piece of paper.
The Moore looked at it in disbelief. He had performed all over Europe and was from a humble African background - and he now owned 1 and a half ships! Not any ships, but English ships! Everybody across the world knew that the English had the strongest navy.
“I thank-you enormously, kind sir.” said the Moore before bowing in appreciation.
And with that, Lord Maitland made his way back to Lord Sinclair and the Ambassador. He turned to have a look around him and he could see all the group studying closely the impressive piece of paper that the Moore now had in his possession.
“You are incredibly cruel, Maitland,” said Lord Sinclair.
“I don’t know. The Moore now owns one and a half ships of the Queen’s navy,” chipped in the Ambassador.
“Shame they are at the bottom of the Bay of Corunna!” bellowed Lord Maitland. And with that, they all shared a laugh at the Moore’s expense.
“Instead of trying to invade Europe, we should start a plantation in Ulster,” said the Ambassador.
“I thought you were trying to get funding to go to the New World?” enquired Lord Maitland.
“Why? Are you interested now?” quipped the Ambassador, not missing any opportunity to push his idea.
“Definitely not,” confirmed Lord Maitland.
Ulster on the island of Ireland was beautiful. Green rolling hills, very few towns or villages. It was a picturesque beauty. A throwback to yesteryear with rural life dominating the region. It was as Gaelic as you can imagine. There weren’t any English or Scottish influences and was an unfamiliar world. It was therefore an opportunity that a few of the Lords had suggested to King James, and now the Ambassador was doing the same. Ulster was seen as an undeveloped and underpopulated area ripe for agricultural farmlands. The locals were nomadic moving their flock in the summer months to uplands before sheltering in the winter. They were simple people. The English had various battles over the years to bring order to this region but it wasn’t a sustained effort to take control.
“You know, Ambassador, you are right. These exotic adventures are too expensive and too risky. We just need to bring some order and culture to create a civilisation in Ulster. They are just barbarians on the island. A bit of Scottish discipline will set them right. All they need is some good Protestant values in their souls.” said Lord Sinclair.
“Good - will you please raise this with the King?” asked the Ambassador.
“Have you forgotten that the English frequently have battles with the Irish? If we were to go in heavy handed, we’d start a war with the English! The farmers will get taken care of but we need to manage the situation carefully,” replied Lord Sinclair.
The King had now joined the group that contained the Moore and a loud laugh could be heard from across the room.
The King then bellowed, “Maitland, you are one cruel fellow!”
Some further words were exchanged between the King and the Moore. A look of disappointment had reached his face. He probably knew his ships were at the bottom of the ocean and not full of gold returning from some conquest overseas.
The King had now hobbled his way over to join their group.
“Oh Maitland, you are a comedian. I know all of you are disappointed by the English Armada but look at it as an investment. By supporting Elizabeth, we’ve sent a message that we are one union. When I take the power of both lands, we will have our dividends and you know that I will look after you.” said the King.
“Thank-you your Majesty. I had a question for you, when you become ruler of both lands - where will your base be?” enquired Lord Maitland.
“Scotland is in my bones,” confirmed the King. “Whilst I may have to set up base in London as that is where all the money and decisions are made believe me that I live for Scotland. The highlands, the fresh Scottish air. This is my home. This is the land that God gave me to govern. God has in his plans for me to be like Banquo and inherit England too but Scotland will always have a special place in my heart.”
“We will see, your Majesty,” said Lord Maitland. “I can see you really enjoying London and in particular the Tower of London. What Henry VII setup is a joy to behold. You won’t believe the exotic menagerie that is housed there. I’ve seen polar bears, lions, and elephants. Can you believe it? In London!”
King James swung his hand dismissively as if to say, don’t be silly, but you could see in his eyes that he was intrigued by this animal prison in the Tower of London. The King was an animal lover, but it was more towards viewing animals as there for Man’s pleasure and entertainment. The King didn’t view animal cruelty as anything to be concerned about.
And with that, they all raised a glass, “To Scotland”, they all said before bumping their quaiches and taking a swig of sweet wine.
“Sinclair, I need a word with you,” said the King.
The two of them moved a few feet away.
“I have a request. That indigenous woman that performed with the Moore. You know which one?” asked the King.
“Of course, I couldn’t forget her performance,” confirmed Lord Sinclair.
“Have her waiting in my bedchamber within 5 minutes,” asked the King.
Lord Sinclair was slightly surprised by the request but agreed. He went to whisper to a servant and then left the room.
The King returned to Lord Maitland and the Ambassador.
“So Ambassador how was your journey from London?” asked the King.
“It was fine,” confirmed the Ambassador. “But I met a strange young man when I reached York. My carriage had stopped to replenish supplies and there was a young man in a similar position and we started talking. He was around 18 years old and had told me his life story about how his father died when he was just a boy and he inherited this big estate just outside York. He was planning to sell it so he could go off to Europe to fight for the Catholics and kept going on about how the Catholic faith was the only way to gain redemption on this earth. Eventually the conversation moved on to Mary and the Bible. He seemed like a bit of a maniac to me, and had a strange name, Guido or something.”
“Guido, with a name like that he ought to make candles - not fighting wars!” joked the King.
“He was a strange fellow, believe me.”
“He sounds like a viper. To sell his Father’s estate to fight for the Catholics is unacceptable.” said the King in a harsh tone.
The King then made his way to his bedchamber. The indigenous woman was standing there dressed like somewhere between a servant and a lady. Not as lowly as a servant but nowhere near the levels of a sophisticated lady. She was 5 foot 2 with a small face with short black hair scrunched in a pony tail. Her face looked exotic with her big juicy lips. Her body was taut for someone who danced for several hours a day. Her legs toned and shimmering in the candle light.
The King sat on the bed whilst the woman remained in the centre.
“Take off your clothes,” said the King.
> The woman did nothing. She remained stood still. She didn’t understand what the King had said, so he repeated.
“Take off your clothes.”
She still didn’t understand his words, but she understood the look in his eyes. It was a look that she had seen many times before from men. And with that, she removed her clothes and let them fall to the floor. She was now naked and ambled towards him. She had experienced this many times with wealthy men and those of power, but never with a King. And never with a King that had a reputation that would have made such an encounter seem unlikely.
The King pulled her to him and then took what he wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The post banquet celebrations were now in full swing. The King had returned from spending some time upstairs and some guests were getting more rowdy. Lady Maitland who so enjoyed the Moore’s performance was dancing and her attempts to get a dance partner were failing so far. The Moore had been a particular target of hers but he was smart enough to know that dancing in public with a powerful man’s wife, even if he had been made fun of with his naval ships gift, was unwise and would probably have ended with him in prison or worse.
She therefore made a beeline for the Ambassador. Her enthusiasm clear for all to see.
“Ambassador, come and dance with me,” begged Lady Maitland.
“My dear,” responded the Ambassador. “I am an old man who has difficulty walking. I would like nothing more than to dance with you, but I fear my dancing days are long behind me.”
“Ok, how about we talk for a little while?” asked Lady Maitland.
“Of course,” said the Ambassador, more than happy for a beautiful woman’s company.
They then sat down on one bench. The Ambassador slowly lowered himself to take a seat, whilst Lady Maitland sat on his side with her hand gently resting on his knee.
“You have led such an incredible life,” began Lady Maitland. “I look at you with nothing but admiration. I fear that Lord Maitland may one day discard me like a piece of fruit discarded by the King once he has finished feasting,” shared a thoughtful Lady Maitland.
“My dear, he will never discard you. You are every man’s dream. My life has been perhaps more complicated than others, but time finds everyone. My ideas are not worth what they once were.”
“Nonsense, Ambassador! You live in London, you’ve been to the German Republic, Russia, and France. The wealth you must have amassed over the years on those journeys. I hear how my husband talks about all the wealth you’ve created to everyone through the Muscovy company.”
“My dear. I am but a humble civil servant employed by either the court of the Queen of England or the court of the King of Scotland. I have no vast wealth, no shares in Muscovy. I did my job, which was to serve the Country and am proud for having done so.”
Lady Maitland was taken aback by this. For someone as important and worldly as the Ambassador not to have amassed any wealth at his age was unbelievable, but perhaps it was making sense. Maybe this is why her husband and Lord Sinclair would mock the Ambassador. Maybe they had little respect for a man who didn’t grease his own palm a little whilst making everyone else rich. And now here he was reduced to plugging his latest investment opportunity and receiving scorn from ungrateful people who he had made rich several years earlier. The world was a brutal place. These thoughts were depressing Lady Maitland, so she thanked the Ambassador for the talk and then got back up to dance away back into the crowd to lift her spirits back to a party mood.
And so the party continued, with different groups mingling. People dancing. Drinks being consumed. General merriment was being had. That was until there was a crashing sound on the ceiling. It was loud enough to have the musicians stop playing their instruments. The conversation in the room suddenly quietened to silence. Even Lady Maitland eventually stopped dancing when she had realised what had happened.
It was an odd sound, so the guests investigated what the sound was. Lord Sinclair led the way but assured everyone that he was sure it was fine. As they made their way up the stairs, Lord Sinclair encountered a servant who was heading downstairs to tell him the news.
“Claude has returned,” exclaimed the servant.
“Well, that is fantastic!” said an excited Lord Sinclair.
“Who on earth is this Claude?” asked the King.
Lord Sinclair then told the story, “I have a dovecot as I am a huge bird lover. I find them to be magnificent creatures. They are intelligent, loyal, and calm. Qualities I look for in a man, let alone fowl. Claude was an exquisite carrier pigeon that I gained in a game of Noddy. Claude was sent to France several months ago to deliver a message to a business contact. He has now returned.”
Homing pigeons carrying messages were used for centuries with the Romans using birds to deliver messages to the front line in battles and the Greeks using them in the Olympics so they really were nothing new. However, that communication channel was now under threat from Franz Von Taxis who had set up a network of horse couriers across Western Europe. Something that the English had copied. It was with this knowledge that the expectations placed on homing birds had increased.
“After several months? That’s unacceptable. I could have had a servant return within several weeks,” said an unimpressed King.
It was then that events took an odd turn. The King instructed Lord Sinclair to take him to the dovecot to show him Claude. The King and all the guests followed Lord Sinclair to the dovecot. It was smelly and there were already three other birds in the tiny nest like house. Lord Sinclair reached in and pulled out Claude, handing him to the King. Claude was white with his feathers glistening in the candle light. The King didn’t know too much about pigeons, but it didn’t take an expert to know that this was no ordinary bird. It looked like one of the King’s pedigree horses, a topic he knew a lot about.
“Now,” began the King. “Claude has failed as a carrier pigeon. This is unacceptable. If he was on business for Lord Sinclair, then that means he was on business for the land of Scotland. The land of Scotland is my duty to protect and as God has put me on this earth to protect it, then, so I will. Claude will have to prove his worth to survive. Claude will have to survive one minute in a pan of boiling water. If he does so, then he will be set free.”
The guests gasped. Lord Sinclair’s face had dropped. This was cruelty of the highest order. This wouldn’t be a test, but just torture of an innocent bird. It was known that the King had some strange hobbies, but he had sank to a new low.
The guests prepared to make their ways to the Kitchens to see this odd and cruel form of entertainment. The King hobbled his way down the stairs but he caught his foot in one of the cracks and had to let go of the bird to stop himself falling flat on his face. He averted injury by clinging to the wall. That was a successful escape. However, Claude too had a successful escape and had flown away out of the Castle, probably sensing that remaining here would have been unwise.
Lord Sinclair tried to stifle his smirk, but he couldn’t and a slight smile crept along his face. Luckily the King was further behind so didn’t see this.
The King, not wanting to lose respect, proclaimed, “God has spoken. I have pardoned Claude. He is now free instead. A King can be cruel and kind. You can all see how kind your King is. Now, everyone back to the party. This is a celebration, after all!”
Everyone went back downstairs to the banqueting hall in much better spirits than they were a few seconds earlier, but they were all a little taken aback by the recent events.
There were servants there waiting for them with tankards of ale. It wasn’t a drink that Lady Maitland or Lady Sinclair particularly enjoyed but they were repulsed by what they were almost close to witnessing so they took the ale and promptly drank almost half of what was in the tankard. This would help them forget what had just happened, at least that was what they hoped.
Andrew was in conversation with the Ambassador. He was still thinking about the mental anguish that Jane was going through thank
s to the witches curse. He broached the subject with the Ambassador.
“Ambassador, I have a delicate matter that I want to discuss with you but I ask that you keep it in the utmost secrecy,” said Andrew.
“Spit it out,” replied an intrigued Ambassador.
“Well, Jane is in a panic because a witch placed a curse on her. We haven’t told the King because we fear for what he might do,”
“I see your predicament. Have you heard of Mallesus Maleficarum?” asked the Ambassador.
“No I haven’t.”
“Well, it’s the book on witchcraft. How to detect it and how to eradicate it. Written by two Germans, I believe. I read it maybe 40 years ago, so my mind is a bit hazy. The first part tells you all about why you should fear them, so best to skip that. The second part was about some sins that witches have done such as entering into sexual relations with devils and their night flights, scary stuff. The last part was all about the legal actions that you can take. Torturing to gain confessions is ok. This book has been endorsed by both Protestants and Catholics. This is the real deal - get it.”
“Legal action? Can’t I place a counter spell?” asked Andrew.
The Ambassador got really agitated.
“What are you trying to do to me? Talking about placing spells on people in public! In fact, don’t mention that to me, even in private. Only witches place spells. The best thing that you can hope for is to start legal action, we’ll get her tortured and then she’ll end up thrown in the river. If she floats then we’ll know she is a witch and we’ll burn her at the stake. If she drowns then you’ll have peace of mind because you’ll know she was just a crackpot.”
“Thanks Ambassador, that makes perfect sense,” said Andrew profusely shaking the Ambassador’s hands.
Elsewhere in the hall, the poets Mark and William were together in one corner and it was quite a sight. They were laughing wildly, delicately grasping one another by the shoulders. You could see two people who were very comfortable in each other's presence and had genuine affection for one another. The King from across the room had an envious look in his eyes, so when Mark left William to go to the toilet, the King followed him. After Mark had finished using the toilet, the King bumped into him.
