The King’s Banquet

by Derek Gorman

  “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” said the King. “Could you come to my bedchamber to talk and hug?”

  “Of course,” replied Mark.

  Mark followed the King to his bedchamber, which was candlelit given that it was now late into the evening. The night sky was calm, and the stars shone through the windows, adding an extra illumination into the room.

  Mark took some tobacco out of his pocket and filled his pipe before lighting it. The King looked on, astonished. Everybody knew that the King hated smoking, but Mark either had forgotten or did it as a provocative act. The answer quickly came when he blew a smoke ring toward the King, which riled the King.

  “Why must you smoke? Don’t you realise the damage you are doing?” asked the King.

  “I’m really dirty, am I not? This filthy smoke just oozing out of me. Send me away to keep your Majesty untarnished from my filthy self.”

  But the King would not send Mark away. He found this provocative behaviour both exhilarating and disgusting at the same time.

  “Do you not feel ashamed? You don’t realise the damage you are doing to your lungs and yourself. Equally, by my presence being here, you are also hurting my lungs and myself. It’s also a sin against God to harm one’s body.”

  Mark looked at the King and took another puff, “You believe in witches, mystic potions, and your divine right to rule all of Scotland and England. You believe that one of man’s great pleasures, a crop that has been smoked for as long as Man has been alive on this earth to be toxic. If that were the case, then Man would no longer be on this earth. Next you will tell me that pleasures of the human body are a sin too?”

  “Don’t take witches lightly, Mark,” said the King. “I don’t want you to just believe in their power but to really lead the charge against them. What they are doing is high treason against God. And don’t forget it’s not just witches but vampires, werewolves, and unicorns are amongst us as well. The actual danger is that females are easily influenced by witches. That is why I much prefer the company of men, where possible.”

  Mark wanted to change the subject, so he just took a puff and blew another smoke ring towards the window.

  This didn’t impress the King, “Smoking is hateful to the nose. Just smell your clothes, your lips.”

  “Why don’t you come here and smell my lips?” asked Mark.

  The King was so annoyed with Mark, but yet he couldn’t tear himself away. Mark was exotic and French - a combination that the King couldn’t ignore. That Mark smoked and was also a Catholic meant he was the forbidden fruit, and Mark knew it.

  The King leaned over to kiss Mark and just before their lips met, Mark blew a smoke ring in the King’s face and then laughed hysterically.

  This annoyed the King, “You are such an immature child. You never think about the deep topics that concern mankind. You never think about why we are on this earth and you behave like an immature child in the most sensitive and inappropriate moments.”

  Now, this was a small wake up call for Mark. For all his bravado, he liked the King’s attention and could feel it slipping away. He stubbed out his tobacco, and then turned to the King.

  “I’m sorry, let’s discuss something deep and thoughtful, what do you want to discuss?” said a rueful Mark.

  “Let me share with you what I’ve recently been thinking about, my time on the English throne will come soon. The role of the government is therefore on my mind. I view it split into three parts. First, my duty is to be a good Christian to God. I love and respect God - but I also fear him. I want you to be a good Christian too. You need to study both the old and new testament. Pray often and be grateful for what you have.”

  “I will try,” replied Mark. “I think about my role on earth. I know I seem casual at times but the life of a poet is full of laughter and adventures - but I wouldn’t be able to write the poetry that I do if I didn’t have moments of contemplation. I will try to become closer to God for you.”

  “You need to become closer to God for yourself, Mark, not for me,” replied the King. “But it’s a step in the right direction. The second key part of governing is to not be a tyrant. I want to ensure we have laws established and executed that are fair and just. I will visit each of my kingdom’s every three years as they need to know that I care.”

  “Do you really see your head not being turned by the bright lights of London?” asked Mark.

  “Lord Maitland asked me the same thing. It is interesting that you all don’t understand that Kingship is a duty bestowed on me by God. I am not a mere mortal whose head will be turned by the lights of London. The other key part of not being a tyrant is to understand mathematics for military purposes and world history for foreign policy. That is why I encourage foreign merchants to come here and why we use Gold and Silver as currency. It has to be a lesson from history.”

  “Tell me more, King, you are so wise and passionate when you speak,” chipped in Mark admiringly.

  “My heir will have everything. I have seen so many squabbles between family members on what is left that I will not place my family and my people in that predicament. My heir shall inherit everything. The last piece that I was thinking about is the daily life of a monarch.”

  “Daily life? You mean such as going to the bakery and washing?” asked Mark, displaying his simple background to the King.

  “Not quite, Mark, although you are on the right track. Eating properly is important as that creates energy. Drinking too much and sleeping too much are out too.”

  Mark thought to himself that the King might take some of his own advice regarding drinking. The King then continued, “Appearance is important; always to be clean and never allow one’s nails or hair to get too long. Honesty and clarity in language is important too.”

  “That’s one thing I can identify with,” chipped in Mark wanting to show how they were alike, when it was clear they were nothing of the sort.

  “I enjoy talking with you,” said the King. He then kissed Mark on the cheek and headed back downstairs.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lord Sinclair was in a much more relaxed mood. The banquet was a hit, and his hosting skills had been admired by all. The King approached him and they sat next to each other on one bench.

  “Sinclair, you’ve done a fine job,” began the King.

  “Thank-you, your majesty,” replied a beaming Lord Sinclair.

  “This evening has really clicked for me,” said the King. “I enjoyed the Moore's performance so much. This theatrical performance or masque, as I prefer them to be called, will be the centrepiece of our foreign entertaining going forwards. We will wow the world with our ability to put on a masque. However, we need a venue fit for such an event. I’m thinking we will need the English purse to build this cathedral for entertainment that I have envisioned. It will be the grandest hall in all of Europe to marvel and delight visitors for centuries to come; exotic in style but with Scotland at its heart. It will cost a fortune and be a statement of our power as a nation!”

  This astonished Lord Sinclair, he was glad that the evening had made such an impression on the King, but he wasn’t finished yet.

  “Sinclair, my banqueting hall will be classical in concept with a refined Italianate Renaissance style coupled with the picturesque beauty of Jacobean architecture. And Flemish Mannerists! That is what it needs as well.”

  Lord Sinclair started laughing. He did not understand what the King said, but he could see that he was happy. The King joined in the laughter and the two friends were in that perfect state of bliss for a second without a care in the world.

  “Your castle is fantastic, real homely,” said the King.

  “Thank-you, that is the highest compliment you could have given,” said Lord Sinclair.

  “I tell you, the other thing you don’t have, which you need, is a golf course. How can a gentleman not have their own private golf course? It’s no wonder that you never win when we play,” said the King.

  Lord Sinclair thought he
won half of the time when they played. The difference being that he would pay when he lost whereas the King never did, hence why he never recalled losing to Lord Sinclair.

  “I think that is a wise suggestion. I would like a golf course but alas my family fear I will be on the course all the time,” said Lord Sinclair.

  “You are right, Sinclair, wise move not to have one under your nose,” replied the King.

  An odd event was happening a few metres away. The rest of the guests were split into two and it looked as if an impromptu performance was taking place. The King and Lord Sinclair were keen to ensure that they didn’t miss out, so paid close attention to the events unfolding in front of their eyes.

  Mark and William were on opposite sides with long loaves of bread used as mock swords. Lady Maitland and the Moore were on Mark’s team, following him around as he charged at William. William had Lady Sinclair and Jane Melville retreating alongside him as he defended himself from the charging Mark.

  “Take that! You Spanish swine,” shouted Mark.

  “You shall eat your own bread, you pompous English man,” shouted William back.

  “We shall defeat you again like we defeated you on the coast of Scotland,” bellowed Mark as he thrust his loaf of bread towards William’s group. The bread shed some crumbs as he thrust it forward.

  “No! You will be defeated like we sunk your famed English Armada,” responded William, dodging the loaf of bread.

  Suddenly, the loaf of bread struck Jane Melville - who became the first casualty in this reconstruction of the ongoing English - Spanish war.

  The King thought how ridiculous this entire war was. The loaves of bread had the scene looking more fanciful, but with a serious undertone behind it. As the King went to pick up Jane Melville, he said to her, “Looks like your luck has gone against you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” said a worried looking Jane.

  “I said that your luck has gone against you, the first casualty of the English-Spanish war,” clarified the King, smiling widely.

  Jane was still sensitive about the witch that turned up unannounced and had placed a curse on her, all for supporting the King who was now standing in front of her eyes. She wanted to tell him to get a reassuring word or some kind of counter spell from one of the King’s favoured spirit communicators, but she feared how he would respond. She therefore let out a fake laugh and got back to the mock war.

  It was now into the early hours of the night, and guests were tiring. The Ambassador was the first to go to sleep. He did so with no big proclamation. He just headed upstairs. In fact, nobody noticed. They only realised that he had gone to sleep when Lord Maitland wanted to make another joke at the Ambassador’s expense. This acted as a trigger for Andrew & Jane, who also retired for the night. They were used to waking up early to ensure that breakfast was prepared correctly for their Royal masters, so staying up so late was a very rare occurrence. Jane would have a difficult night’s sleep due to the stresses caused from worrying about the curse.

  The Poets were still in full voice and humour. They were speaking French, German, Dutch, and it all sounded so poetic. One was standing, and the other was jumping, and then they took turns and swapped. The King with all of his aches and illnesses looked at them with awe and a tinge of jealousy.

  Lady Maitland was in one corner in deep conversation with the Moore. It was difficult to tell exactly what was being said, but Lord Maitland was paying close attention to them.

  Lord Sinclair was feeling tired. The stresses of the event had died down, and the Adrenalin had dissipated, leaving him both physically and mentally shattered. Lady Sinclair put her arm around him and said, “Why don’t you go to bed?”

  “I can’t. I’m the host. How will it look?” asked Lord Sinclair.

  “Just ask the King. Look at him. He looks like he is ready to end the night too,” observed Lady Sinclair.

  “You are right.”

  And with that Lord Sinclair approached the King, asking to go to sleep.

  “Excellent idea, Sinclair. It’s been a long night,” replied the King.

  And with that the King loudly gave his good night wishes to nobody in particular to signify the end of the evening. That gave Lord Sinclair the freedom to go to sleep.

  That left the last revellers being the poets Mark and William, Lord & Lady Maitland, Lady Sinclair, and the Moore.

  Lord Maitland wasn’t too pleased with the Moore still being here. It was now inappropriate given that the King had left, and the host had left too.

  “Moore - time for you to go downstairs to the cold Kitchen floor,” instructed Lord Maitland.

  The Moore stopped his conversation with Lady Maitland, turned and looked at Lord Maitland. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The justice of life. The consequences of actions. The options he had. But he settled for the sensible one.

  “It’s been a long night. Good night everyone,” said the Moore, heading downstairs to that cold Kitchen floor.

  “If it’s time for the artists to go, then we’ll bid you farewell,” said Mark. Mark and William then immediately disappeared, not waiting for any confirmation. They didn’t want to hang around this crowd as it bored them so headed upstairs but instead of going to their bedchamber, they opened the door to the master bedchamber where the King was now sleeping.

  Mark entered one side of the bed, and William entered another side. The King was still snoring and had barely moved. They both sniggered as the King looked very normal, and actually a little repulsive if truth be told. William hugged the King from one, and Mark from the other. Mark’s arm was stroking William’s. The King remained in a state of drunkenness and continued to snore away. It looked like the King’s adventures for the evening were at an end.

  Back in the banqueting hall, Lord Maitland was looking at Lady Sinclair with an inquisitive eye.

  “Tell me, Lady Sinclair, when was the last time your husband made love to you?” asked Lord Maitland.

  Lady Sinclair immediately blushed and pretended to be offended, but she appreciated what she interpreted to be interest. Lady Maitland was sat next to Lord Maitland during all of this and kept her smile throughout. She wasn’t surprised by the question.

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t quite remember, but I don’t want to discuss this with you,” replied Lady Sinclair.

  “You really are beautiful,” said Lady Maitland.

  Lady Sinclair quickly realising that Lady Maitland was a more carefree character than even she thought possible, wondering where this was all headed. She knew that Lord Sinclair had run-ins with Lord Maitland and they were constantly trying to outdo each other so was wary of being a pawn in some petty minor feud.

  “I think it’s getting late,” said Lady Sinclair, feigning a yawn.

  “I agree,” said Lord Maitland. “You know, your husband looked exhausted tonight. It is very stressful to host such an event. Why don’t you just let him sleep in his bedchamber? Don’t disturb him. He is a wonderful man and deserves some rest.”

  “And where would I sleep?” asked Lady Sinclair, although she had an inkling of what the answer might be.

  “With us,” said Lady Maitland immediately. Her beautiful smile invitingly beckoning her.

  “I’m sorry. I must go,” replied Lady Sinclair. And with that she ran out of the banqueting hall and up the stairs straight to her husband. She ran into the room at such a pace that she woke him up.

  “Are you ok dear?” asked Lord Sinclair.

  “Sorry to have woken you. Yes, I’m fine. The party has ended now, and everyone has gone to sleep. I think sugar has a very energetic quality to it, as I didn’t even realise that I was running. Sorry again to have woken you. Go back to sleep.”

  And with that, she stroked Lord Sinclair’s cheek and then got into bed alongside him.

  Lord and Lady Maitland had also gone to bed, laughing as they made their way upstairs. Lady Sinclair heard this and wondered whether that had just been a prank and what would have ha
ppened if she had said yes to join them. She would never know and eventually fell asleep, despite the excess amount of sugar. All the guests did. The excitement of the night, the activities, all of it. It has been a memorable evening, and they were all exhausted. They all fell asleep, and the Castle was quiet - except for the King’s snoring. Claude had also returned to his dovecot knowing that nobody was after him any longer.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Everyone was fast asleep, and it was now well into the early hours. The sky was still and the night sky at its darkest. This peace however, was about to be shattered. A visitor was fast arriving on a horse galloping across the horizon. Eventually the visitor arrived and barely secured his horse before he pounded strongly on the door with his fist. He also started shouting, “Lord Sinclair, wake up. I must speak with you.”

  This commotion awoke the servants on the lower levels, and the Head of the Household gingerly made his way to the door and opened it.

  “I must see Lord Sinclair at once,” announced the stranger.

  “I don’t think you understand. What is your name?” replied the Head of the Household.

  “I’m the Earl of Bothwell,” replied the stranger and with that he pushed past the Head of the Household and made his way up the stairs.

  The Earl of Bothwell, not to be confused with Lord Bothwell who was the previous holder of the title and his uncle who ended up marrying Queen Mary and being accused of murdering her husband and King James’s father, was agitated. A young man just shy of 30 years of age and in the prime of his life, but he didn’t look like it taking one look at his face.

  He had led a splendid life given his family relations within the inner echelons of the Scottish political class and was given a senior position as Commendator of Culcross Abbey. At the time he was only a baby, receiving the position when Lord Maitland stepped away. The Earl studied at St Andrews University in Scotland before following the typical route of getting educated on the continent, studying in France (where else) but also in Italy. He stayed there until recalled by King James to work in the country supporting him.