THE WARM AND humid July day was one of those in which George Heriot asked himself why he stayed in this airless London, amongst people he did not particularly love, dealing in and amassing money for which he had no particular use, and serving an oddity of a monarch who could get along all too well without him, when he could go back to his native Scotland, with its fresh winds and great skies, and live at ease and leisure amongst his own folk as a country laird with as much substance as a modest man would ever require. Frequently he asked this of himself, and had so far discovered no very convincing answer. Especially on stifling days of summer, when London stank to high heaven. They had smells in Scotland, admittedly, but always, as he remembered it there was sufficient breeze to blow them away.
He was considering locking up his ledgers, with the secrets of so many proud and lofty folk in them, and walking over to St Paul's to see if company and the latest news of the city and its follies might stir him out of his mood of discontent, when his foreman goldsmith mounted the stairs to his office to inform him that they had visitors-and young ladies, at that Scots voices behind him amplified his announcement
Alison Primrose stood there, a picture of fresh and winsome delight heat or none, another young woman at her side, somewhat older, more heavily built but of a sonsy and buxom good looks nevertheless. Heriot sprang to his feet, temperature like gloom- and years-forgotten, and hurried forward, hands outstretched.
"Here's a joy!" he exclaimed. "I have not seen you this whole month. How come you here? I believed you were at Greenwich, with the Queen?"
"We took opportunity to come up the river in one of the King's barges, Geordie. In all the to-do of King Christian's aiming, we will scarce be missed, I think. The barge was coming for more wines! Wines are in great demand at Greenwich these days! The barge will take us back in two hours time. Meg-this is Master Heriot, a good friend. And Mistress Margaret Hartside, from Kirkwall, one of Her Majesty's chambermaids."
"Kirkwall, eh?" Heriot said, as the other girl sketched a curtsy. "I think that I have seen Mistress Hartside around Somerset House, but we have not spoken. Greetings, Mistress-I am pleasured."
"And I honoured, sir. All know of Master George Heriot, the King's friend." She cast a sly glance at her companion. "And Alison's!"
"H'rr'mm. I am much privileged, yes. And how is the Queen? Better, I hope?"
"A deal better, yes-with her brother's coming. King Christian makes a new woman of her. He is very… rousing. But less of an oaf than Duke Ulric. The Queen is venturing from her room for the first time since the child died," Alison informed. "That is why we have been able to get away. We have been kept close tied, for long."
"Yes." Queen Anne had given birth, at Greenwich, to her seventh child in June of that year, 1606, a weakly infant, hastily christened Sophia, which had died after only a few hours. Anne had been plunged into depression since-for the previous child, the Princess Mary, born the year before, was almost equally sickly and only just holding on to life. At least there had been no alarms and rumours about the parentage of little Sophia. But the Queen was grievously cast down, and swearing that she would have no more children. She was aged but thirty-three.
"I rejoice to hear that King Christian is an improvement on his brother," Heriot said. "Since we are to have him with us for some time, it seems. King James will be pleased. He has worked hard for this visit. It is to show Christendom that he is a power amongst princes-but a power for peace and goodwill, his realm to be courted rather than feared. England is no longer to be an island, living within itself, as Elizabeth would have it, but part of Europe and the comity of nations. The King is far-sighted. This visit is more than just brother-in-law forgathering." He paused, conceiving that this sort of talk was hardly suitable for young women callers. "Come-sit you down."
Alison found no fault with what he had said, "He came two days ago. The Danish king. In great style. In a great ship called the Three Crowns, with seven ships-of-war as escort, no less. Greenwich is now full of Danes. They outnumber even the Scots, I swear! Some of them are very handsome, in a pale, golden way. Are they not, Meg?"
"No doubt," the man commented, without enthusiasm. "We heard the great cannon-firing at Tilbury even here in London, on the east breeze. Would God there was still some breeze! This heat!"
"Yes. King James and Prince Henry went down to Tilbury in a fine barge, all banners and awnings and painted work, with musicians, to bring the other king back to Greenwich…"
"And wine-casks" Margaret Hartside put in. "They were all drunk by the time they got back-the musicians too. I never heard such noise!" "Not King James, surely? I have never known him drunk." "No-o-o. But he and the other king were supporting each other. And both were singing. Ours does not usually sing, I think?" "M'mmm."
Alison changed the subject "I have brought Meg to see you, Geordie, for an especial purpose. She has something to show you. Something to sell to you, if you will consider buying."
The girls were dressed in light summery gowns, with much of bare arm and throat and little scope for pockets, but out from a bundled, silken shawl the other brought a little leather bag, which she opened and emptied on to the table before the man.
Heriot drew a quick breath, used as he was to fine jewellery. Cascading on to the table fell a shower of gems and pieces of gold and silver-work, a dozen items at least Outstanding amongst them was a single great pearl on a chain, pear-shaped, pinkish, glowing warmly. He did not speak.
Alison did. "Meg is desirous of selling these. For so high a price as she may obtain. I believed that you would either buy them, or advise her. Since it is your trade, Geordie."
"My trade, yes," Heriot said slowly. "But… there are problems, perhaps. Questions, you understand? These are notable pieces. This great pearl in especial. I, h'm know it. Indeed, I know some of these others also. One was made in this house."
There was a pause, the young women apparently each waiting for the other to speak.
"May I ask, Mistress Hartside, whether you are selling these for yourself? Or for another?" the man went on carefully.
The girl hesitated, "For myself," she said, at length. "In order for me to return to Scotland. I have no money. I wish to return to Kirkwall, my home in Orkney." That sounded like a lesson learnt.
Heriot looked at Alison. "Before I may buy valuables such as these, I must know something of whence they came. Do not misunderstand me. Jewels are a strange and very special merchandise. They are known by many. And therefore it may be known who previously owned them. That pearl you see, I bought for the Queen, some years ago. In Scotland, And made that brooch for her, likewise." "Are they so… so kenspeckle?" the older girl all but whispered. "I fear so, yes. A queen's gems in especial," She looked at Alison.
"You must tell him," that more forthright young woman said. "All that you told me. Master Heriot is good, kind. He will not betray you." "You teubim."
"Very well. Meg is wed, secretly, to John Buchanan of Scotscraig. Also in Orkney. One of the Earl of Orkney's gentlemen. An Elymosinar of the King's. They have known each other long-but wed only when the Earl and his brothers were at Court a year back. The match had to be kept secret, or Meg could not have remained chambermaid to the Queen. None married may so serve her. And they have insufficient means to set up house together."
"I see. Orkney " Heriot's eyes had narrowed and he tapped the table with one finger. "And these jewels?"
"Her husband, who is gone back to Scotland with the Earl, gave her them to sell For him. For them both. So that they should have enough money. For Meg to leave Court, so that they might settle, back in Orkney. At Scotscraig. Together. As they would wish to be." "Aye-but where did this Buchanan get the jewels?"
"The Earl gave them to him. In free gift," Margaret Hartside put in. "For his good services. Part of a casketful, given to my lord by the Queen."
The man half rose from his chair, but sank back again, biting his lip. 'The Queen gave Orkney these?" he demanded. "Yes. And many more. When he was at Court, a year back"
He whistled beneath his breath. "This is… extraordinary!" He turned to Alison. "Did you know of this?"
"Not until three or four days. ago. And Meg swore me to secrecy."
"As well she might! You see what it means? Or what it could mean! For, to be sure, Orkney might have lied about the gift." "How then would he have got the jewels? The Queen's jewels?"
"God knows! This smells rank. There is ill work here, somewhere. The question is, where does the evil he?"
"Not with Meg, at least, Geordie. Or her husband. He received the gifts in all honesty. From his lord."
"Must it be evil?" the other girl faltered. "John, my husband, conceived no ill in it The Queen has many jewels. The Earl of Orkney is her kinsman by marriage, is he not? He may have served her well. Might she not seek to reward him with these?" The other two exchanged glances.
"I fear that it is less simple than that," Heriot said. "Orkney is… no ordinary man. And he is at odds with the King. If the Queen did indeed give him these jewels…"
"But she did. How else could he have gained them? She might even have done it to spite the King! Because he took a hard line with my lord. She has done things to spite His Majesty before this."
"I accept that she must have given them to him, yes. But how willingly? That is the question. These things are valuable. And she is much in need of money." "How mean you, sir? Willingly? "
"I do not know myself, to tell truth. I but try to clunk. Have you any notion what these things are worth?"
"No-o-o. Not truly. One hundred pounds perhaps?" She said it almost breathlessly.
"That fine pearl is worth over one hundred pounds Sterling itself. Twelve times that in pounds Scots. I know-for I bought it once, the greatest pearl ever brought out of the Tay. These other pieces-especially this diamond-add up to another three or four hundred pounds Sterling, at least Say five hundred pounds Sterling altogether. Six thousand pounds Scots. A lot of money. And you say that this was only part of a casketful given by the Queen? Why should she give so much to the Earl of Orkney?" No answer was offered.
"But these are ours. My husband's. The money for us to live together. As man and wife. In Orkney…"
"Yes. I understand. But you must understand my position also, Mistress. I am the King's jeweller. The Queen's also. Knowing these to be the Queen's jewels-or to have been-I cannot just buy them, in ordinary trade. What would His Majesty say? Or the Queen herself? "
"Then can I sell them to some other man? Can you tell me whom?"
"That is almost equally difficult. I cannot send you to any jeweller of repute in this city. They would all see it much as I do. Some crooked cut-purse trader down amongst the quays might take them-but give you not a tenth of their worth. And I could not advise such fate for the Queen's so excellent jewellery." "What can we do, then?" That was a quaver. He looked at them unhappily.
"I blame myself," Alison put in. "I confess, I feared something of this. Feared that there might be trouble in it That is why I proposed coming to you, Geordie. Perhaps I was wrong-should not have brought you into it. But I thought that you would know best. Would advise and help." She emphasised that last word.
He nodded acceptance of her appeal. "You did not do wrong. See you, Mistress-I shall not buy them. But shall take them from you, and hold them. Not in pawn, but in trust. I will give you money for them, such as you need. Not what they are worth. But sufficient for your need. If all is well and I may dispose of them in true trade, I will pay the remainder…" "Oh, Geordie-you are good!" Alison exclaimed. "Yes, indeed. That is most kind, sir. But… how much?"
"You thought of one hundred pounds? I will give you two hundred and fifty pounds-if that will serve?" "Two hundred and fifty! Sakes-so much?" "Only one hah of their true value, I'd remind you."
"What of that. In Orkney, two hundred and fifty pounds will make us almost rich! You are good."
"Scarcely that But, it must be understood-I may deal with these jewels hereafter as I think best. When I have made enquiries. It may be that they will go back to the Queen. I do not know. I must do what seems best for all."-
"Yes, yes. To be sure. We want nothing more to do with them, I swear!"
"I hope that it may prove as simple as that! See-leave them with me. You cannot carry two hundred and fifty pounds in gold and silver coin. I will give you fifty pounds Sterling now for your journey to Scotland. And my note-of-hand for two hundred pounds, to be drawn at my house in Edinburgh. My brother James will pay it, at your convenience. Will that do?" "It is better far than I had dared to hope, sir."
"Very well." He gathered up the jewels into their bag and went to unlock his strong box.
When, presently, he left to escort them back to the quay and the wine barge, with Margaret Hartside going down the steps ahead of them, Alison took the opportunity to murmur in Heriot's ear. "I came to you, for more than helping Meg. I thought you should know of this. I misliked the sound of it. There is something wrong, somewhere. You may discover what it is…"
"Perhaps it would be better not to discover!" he returned. "It could be awkward knowledge."
Amidst heartfelt expressions of gratitude, he handed over the two young women to the King's watermen and turned back for the Exchange. Deep in thought, he scarcely noticed the heat and the stinks.
Although George Heriot saw both King and Queen the very next day, it was only as one of London's citizens, and he had no opportunity for speech with either. James brought his royal brother-in-law up to town to see the sights, and Anne felt sufficiently recovered to accompany them with the royal children. They made a state ride through the city and attended a banquet, ending up at Somerset House-which was renamed Denmark House to mark the occasion. King Christian was a fine upstanding figure of a man, of a ruddy countenance, inclining to stoutness but with the height to carry it, a great eater, drinker and laugher, but with a marked capacity for enjoyment, in contrast to his brother Ulric's prickly temperament. He quickly became immensely popular in London, particularly as he gave presents on a truly regal scale and threw money about like water. King James became not a little concerned.
The second day, the royal sightseers repaired to the Tower, where they inspected the crown jewels, the coronation robes and the torture machinery. Also the Mint, housed there. Still more to Christian's taste was the bear pit, where quick thinking on James's part provided an unusual spectacle. The keeper informed his lord that only the day before a child had died there, having been, it seemed, accidentally left in the bear house. No satisfying explanation of how this had transpired being forthcoming, Anne -who had brought Henry, Elizabeth and little Charles with her as a treat-shed a tear for the poor innocent and declared that the parents must have been careless. James, although he did not weep, was less censorious and more practical. He left the keeper twenty pounds for the bereaved mother-and condemned the offending bear to death. Moreover, he stipulated the method of execution, the bear was to have the most savage of the lions set upon it, watched judicially by the entire royal party. Unfortunately the lion, when brought amidst great excitement, and assured to be ferocious, confronted with the bear in the pit, merely sat down and yawned in the heat, while the other animal busily searched for fleas. No amount of stimulation having any effect, two large mastiffs were brought and substituted for the lion. These proved by no means keen either, and when spurred on to the attack, went in about it so half-heartedly that they were cuffed away into a comer where they cowered and sulked. Much offended, James demanded half-a-dozen dogs of mixed breeds and sizes, with a young lion and lioness, all in together, with darts thrown to prick all into suitable activity. In the subsequent melee and hullabaloo, it was not very clear just what went on, much fur flew and blood and entrails came into evidence. King Christian, who had fallen asleep, was wakened up by Elizabeth screaming, and hurrahed vociferously in true Viking fashion, while James took the opportunity to improve on the situation by expounding to his children the moral lessons of what they saw, with Latin interpolations. The bear was almost certainly dead when the royal party left, and most of the dogs likewise, with the lion and lioness satisfactorily crunching up the remains indiscriminately. All agreed that the child had been suitably commemorated, in the end.
A move was then made to Westminster Abbey, to inspect the progress of the magnificent tomb James was having erected therein for his mother, the executed Mary Queen of Scots-which was to be the finest in the establishment, bar none, he declared. Not to seem to neglect her executioner and his predecessor altogether, he had the effigy on Elizabeth's tomb dressed up in mourning garments, very unusual. In none of all this had George Heriot, tradesman, any part.
He did, however, receive a summons to attend on the King personally, about three weeks later, the page who brought the message adding that he was to bring his kist and keys with him- clearly an indication that the King was requiring money again. This was not entirely unexpected, for most evidently entertaining and keeping up with King Christian was an expensive business. The two monarchs were presently at Theobalds Park, Cecil's seat in Hertforshire, for the buck hunting. The Queen certainly would not be there, for she hated Cecil and would not darken his door. Heriot learned from the page that she had, in fact, returned to Greenwich-which she preferred in high summer to London. The man decided that, before he had his interview with the monarch, who was almost certainly wanting something from him and therefore amenable perhaps to a little pressure, he ought to inform himself as far as possible as to the Queen's position. Accordingly, that very afternoon, he took boat down-river for Greenwich.
He was less warmly received at the great palace than was his usual. He learned that the Queen was indeed there, in her private apartments; but though he sent his humble duties and the request that Her Majesty might graciously receive him for a brief interview he was kept waiting an unconscionable time. Nor did Alison Primrose appear to lighten the tedium. When at length he was ushered into the royal sitting-room, it was to find both Hetty, Marchioness of Huntly and Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with the Queen. Neither made any move to leave at his entry.
Anne was apparently in a lofty mood. "A good day to you, Master Heriot," she said coolly. "I understand that you wish some speech with me?"
"Yes, Majesty-if you will be so kind. I would humbly say how grieved I was to hear of your recent great loss and sad sickness. And how rejoiced I am now to see you so well restored."
"I thank you. But I cannot think that you came all the way to Greenwich to tell me that, sir 1"
'Perhaps not, Madam. I had hoped that I might be permitted to have a word with Your Highness alone. On a matter of importance."
"I have no secrets from these my good friends, sir. And I hope that you have not come to talk about the tiresome matter of moneys, again. For I cannot help you in this. Until parliament sees fit to do its duty, and settle our royal revenues, I am quite unable to make repayments. You must needs apply to my husband, the King."
Heriot sought to make both features and voice expressionless. 'That is not the purpose of my visit, Madam. I know the position, passing well. My concern is otherwise. But… I hesitate to speak before these ladies."
'Then do not speak at all, sir. If it is unfit for their ears, it is unfit for mine, I vow" "If I may say so, not necessarily, Madam. But-as you will."
"In fact, Master Heriot, I think I know very well what brings you here. If it is not the money. It is the matter of that Primrose baggage, of whom you are so unsuitably enamoured I And of the other wretch, Hartside!" He drew a quick breath, but said nothing.
"I am much displeased," the Queen went on-sounding, for once, rather like her husband. "It is quite disgraceful. And that you, should aid and assist these wicked young women in their designs against their queen and yours, is a like shame. I would not have believed it of you!" That came out in a rush.
Staring at her, he shook his head. "I do not understand Your Majesty. Not fully. Yet, it seems you have believed it of me- whatever it is! Without seeking my explanation…"
"What explanation can you offer, sir, to meet the occasion! My property is stolen by my own servant-valuable property. And you, in collusion with another of my servants, Primrose, buy it, knowing it mine. Here is the work of an unprincipled huckster, I think!"
"Stolen…! Madam-can you mean what you say? Are you accusing Mistress Hartside of stealing your jewels?"
"Naturally. How else should my chambermaid have in her possession all these riches? She is a thief, sir. And her friend Primrose little better: And you abetted them, they told me. When I examined them."
"But… that is not how I was told it, Majesty. There is something far amiss here. I cannot vouch for Margaret Hartside's honesty-although I believed her honest But Alison Primrose I do know. She could never injure or despoil Your Majesty. She is honest as the day. She wholly believed the other's story, I swear. As did I."
"Aye-we all know how crazed you are over that pert jade! Despite being sufficiently old to know better, sir! I accept that you would believe anything she said! Apparently in preference to your queen's own word!"
He began to speak hotly, and checked himself with an effort. "Your Majesty may consider me foolish. But not dishonest. Mistress Primrose brought Mistress Hartside to me with these jewels. Believing that I could best advise her. There was no talk of theft The story she told was quite other…"
"I do not wish to hear the stories of a lying, thieving minx, sir!" the Queen interrupted strongly. "Spare me that. The fact remains-my jewels were stolen And must have been stolen, to be in a chambermaid's possession. As you should have known. And you bought them. Scarcely the act of my loyal jeweller-for whom I have done much!"
"With respect, Madam-no. I did not buy them, I took them, in trust. Until I had ascertained the true position…"
"So you did doubt? Yet you paid her money for them-much money. Is that not buying them? Do not bandy words with me, sir!"
"I would not do so, Majesty. I respect Your Highness's esteem too much for that. Acknowledge all that your influence has achieved for me." He almost pointed out to her however that her debt to him now stood at eighteen thousand pounds Sterling-but managed to forbear. "I but assure you that Mistress Hartside's account of this matter of the Earl of Orkney was…"
"Silence, sir! I will not hear you! I have heard more than sufficient of Orkney, and all concerned with him. Including this wretched woman. You will not name that name again in my presence." Her bosom heaving, Anne was most obviously in an unusually agitated state. "Is there anything else, Master Heriot?"
"Only that I must ask Your Majesty, whatever else, to absolve Mistress Primrose from all blame in this. She brought the other to me believing that I would know best what to do…" "She could have come to me, her mistress!" "That might have been less easy! In the circumstances."
"Just so! That I agree! At all events, whether she is guilty of dishonesty, or only of folly and error, she will have time and opportunity to repent of it. In Scotland!" He swallowed. "In Scotland! You mean…?'"
T mean, sir, that I have sent her home to her father. Where she will perhaps learn wiser behaviour. And Hartside also-only she is under close ward as a felon. And will in due course be tried for her crime." "But… but…"
"Do not but me, sirrah! These young women were greatly privileged to serve in my household, close to my royal person. They have betrayed my trust. And must pay for it."
"You have sent them both back to Scotland, Madam? Hartside also?" 'Yes. I will not have them near me, further."
'Your Majesty said trial? That Mistress Hartside is under arrest. Why send her to Scotland? Will you bring her back for trial?" "She will be tried in Scotland. In due course."
He eyed her thoughtfully. "That seems a curious arrangement," he said.
"She is a Scotswoman. And will be tried according to Scotland's law."
"When the offence-or the supposed offence-was committed here in England?"
"Sir-this is unbearable! I will not be questioned and harried thus. By you, or any subject I have stood more than enough. You will leave us."
'Yes, Majesty-if it is your royal will. But before I go, you may be glad to have these." And drawing the little leather bag from his doublet pocket, he placed it on a table. 'You will find all your jewels there, I think-or, at least, all that were given to Mistress Hartside!"
It was Anne's turn to gulp. She took a step towards the table, then drew back again, biting her hp.
When she did not speak, he went on. 'Your own returned to you. At my charges. With my compliments and loyal duty. That is why I came," he said. "I… I thank you," she said shakily, unsure of herself now.
"It is my privilege, as Your Majesty's faithful servant I would but plead that, now you have the jewels back, you will withdraw the charges against Mistress Hartside, and order her release. Of your charity. And allow Mistress Primrose to return to your services."
The Queen's features hardened. "So that is it! You are a rich man, Master Heriot, and would buy back your inamorata's presence here by this gesture. It cannot be. It is too late. And I do not bargain with subjects. Take your jewels, sir-and begone!"
"Your jewels, Madam. Not mine. Have you not said so? Stolen from you. I do bargain, frequently-but not with my sovereign lord or his lady. I leave them with you." He bowed deeply, and backed to the door. As he opened it, he added, as afterthought, "I would be so bold as to remind Your Highness that a trial might be injudicious. For you own interests. Even in Scotland. Talk, Majesty-talk "
It was almost evening next day before George Heriot could cover the distance to Theobalds. He arrived to a great stir and to-do, as Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, mounted a splendid masque to entertain the two monarchs his guests, and to outdo, if possible, anything that the Queen might have put on. The fact that King James found masques tedious did not appear to weigh with him; perhaps Cecil's sights were set on impressing King Christian, whose Danish navy was a major factor on the European scene.
At any rate, no expense was spared, hundreds of workmen had been for days erecting the huge open-air theatre around a grassy hollow, actors and musicians by the score nulled around, women abounded, and all was in readiness for the opening of the performance. Heriot perceived that his interview with the King would have to wait
He found Ludovick of Lennox dressing for the evening, after a hard day's hunting-and that friendly duke insisted that he shared the room with him, for he would not find so much as a comer unoccupied in all the great house. Two Courts and all the hangers-on taxed even Cecil's resources.
The two kings made an exhausting partnership, Lennox complained. They were all up with the larks each day, hunting and hawking, and up all night carousing, wenching, singing and playing practical jokes-to which the Danes seemed distressingly partial. That is, when anyone was sober enough to play them. Christian's appetites were enormous, like his capacity for every aspect of living; and James, who normally could make do with but little sleep, was beginning to wilt under the strain. As for the rest of them, they were all but foundered. The Danes, who were as preoccupied with women as they were with food and drink, had somehow collected vast numbers of females from far and near, and the house positively hotched with unattached and eager ladies of all ages, shapes, sizes and categories-much to Cecil's displeasure, who was something of an old maid. It was all just too much Perhaps it would have been better if the Queen had been present
Heriot was only half-hearted in his sympathy. He had other things on. his mind. He told the Duke about the jewels, the Queen's reaction, and what had happened to Alison Primrose and Margaret Hartside-and the questions all this raised.
Lennox was suitably perturbed. "What does it mean?" he demanded. "What can it mean? Is Anne lying? Or could the jewels indeed have been stolen? Perhaps not by this Hartside woman, but by another. Her husband, perhaps? Even Orkney himself. And given to her to sell"
"It is many months since Orkney and his party went back to Scotland-as you know, who are in a fashion responsible for him! Almost a year. And there has been no word of stolen jewels until now. If they were stolen, the Queen made no protest I cannot believe it so." "Then you think that she did give them to Orkney?"
"If Hartside's story was not a pack of lies-and it did not sound to be-then I can drink of no other answer. Though she may well have given them unwillingly."
"You mean that he forced them from her? As the price for keeping his mouth shut?" "Something after that fashion." "Which could mean that Patrick Gray was right I"
"Possibly. But not necessarily. There could have been some other… indiscretion." "Ah!" "Not necessarily her own." "You mean-James's?"
"It is the King whom Orkney seeks to hurt And the Queen might fight for her husband's name and honour equally with her own. Even though she does not see eye to eye with him always." "I suppose it could be so. How might we find out?"
"I am not greatly concerned with finding out Save insofar as Alison Primrose be reinstated and given recompense. And Hartside's name cleared-if she is innocent. Also, Orkney prevented from doing the like again-if indeed he did it!"
"So many ifs, my friend… "
In order to have the masque over before darkness fell, if possible.
Cecil had arranged for the evening's banquet to proceed, out-of-doors, while the staged entertainment was going on. Heriot found a modest place in the great grassy amphitheatre amongst a group of Danish officers in blue velvet and silver lace, now somewhat soiled, who were already tipsy enough to have brought their uninvited women to the tables with them, where the ladies, dispensing with chairs and benches, stood, sat on knees, on the grass, even under the tables amongst the hunting dogs, screeching and skirling. It was as well that it was a warm night, for many of them were spectacularly underclad.
There was not much rising and bowing when the two monarchs made their belated appearance. Christian was a magnificent figure, and managed to hold himself markedly upright, even though he staggered somewhat James always staggered, and never troubled about standing upright Arm-in-arm they lurched to their places, whilst the instrumentalists played stirring music
Trumpeters blew, and then announced that the Masque of Solomon and Sheba would now be presented before their esteemed present-day Solomon and his guest the noble warrior-king Christian. Let all be silent and give due attention.
Silence and attention were scarcely easy of attainment in the circumstances. Men shouted for food, drink, at each other and at performers; women squealed and whinnied; servitors hurried to and fro, banging flagons, clattering dishes, and cursing; dogs barked, stole viands and squabbled over their hauls. Moreover, King Christian started immediately on a round of bellowed toasts, the first to bis 'goot broder Chames, the best bock honter in the vorld', after each of which toasts he embraced his fellow-monarch lovingly, a progressively more difficult operation as the series extended. His innumerable Danish henchmen roared, hooted and stamped approval, and loyally followed their master's example by embracing all in sight Heriot found himself breathless, battered but surprisingly popular.
Throughout the masque proceeded, in the centre of the arena. King Solomon, majestic in his pillared Temple, received the dusky Sheba, who brought gifts such as a dromedary, a pure white deer-fawn, apes dressed as Nubian chieftains, and cages of brilliantly-coloured birds, all led in by black slaves. The sight and smell of some of these rarities upset many of the dogs present, and Solomon's Court and Temple suffered to some extent; but with remarkable aplomb the Biblical monarch took it all in his gorgeously berobed stride, and, in answer to the cheers, sent Sheba with a large tray of special sweetmeats to present to the two latter-day monarchs on their canopied platform opposite.
Sheba, on this occasion, was the statuesque Countess of Worcester-who had most evidently been fortifying herself for the event in a major way. With the black slaves supporting her, she managed very well until she came to the steps up to the royal platform, even seeking to skip a little to the lively air provided by the musicians. But her slaves modestly held back at the steps, and, silver tray before her swelling profile, she mounted alone, tripped over the top step, and hurtled forward all her length and shapeliness, to collapse at King Christian's feet. Unfortunately, the tray being in front of her, emptied all its contents over the great Dane's lap and person, cream, jellies, spirits, cakes and the like. Spectacular was the ruin.
Christian was nothing if not gallant, and a good man in an emergency. Shouting commiserations to the lady, he struggled to his unsteady feet, wiping mixed delicacies off his clothing and beard, and stooping, sought to raise the Countess. But this was too much for his own precarious equilibrium and he collapsed in turn, part over James and part over Sheba-for there was a lot of him.
James yelped and gesticulated, and courtiers rushed forward to the rescue. Somehow they got both Christian and the lady to then-feet, and tried to press the Dane back into his chair and lead the Countess off. But they reckoned without the Viking spirit. The music continuing even more urgently, Christian decided that he must put the unfortunate Sheba fully at ease by dancing with her -although by this time she was in fact giggling in helpless abandon. Possibly the monarch might have achieved his laudable aim to some extent, had it not been for the wretched steps down from the platform-for there was no room to dance thereon. Steps are awkward things at the best of times, and these, although be-rugged with fine Persian carpeting, were none the more negotiable therefor. Down them King and Countess fell in mighty prostration, to crash headlong on the grass. And there, although Sheba crawled off in sobbing hysterics, Christian lay outstretched, breathing stertorously.
Swiftly, eager hands hurried to raise him up once more. But this time the King of Denmark was temporarily not interested in the upright, or in anything else; and his supporters, not all stone-cold-sober themselves, found themselves with a weighty problem on their hands. What to do with a slack-jointed would-be-recumbent monarch?
King James, apostrophising the Deity, took charge. With royal swipes he personally cleared everything off the top of the monarchial table, flagons, beakers, dishes, sent them all crashing' to the ground, and ordered His Scandinavian Majesty to be laid thereon, amongst the spilt wines and residues. There Christian snored, while Solomon continued unperturbed to expound wisdom from his Temple-wisdom as little appreciated by the rest of the somewhat bemused company as it had been down the ages.
Concerned for his friend, who seemed to have settled for the night, James muttering about dews and chill vapours, with Latin allusions, commanded Christian to be removed to his bedchamber forthwith. He himself, having had enough of the masque, escorted the cortege, recollecting to clap on his high hat before leaving the scene.
Solomon, although lacking Sheba and much of his entourage, continued. Cecil cancelled the fireworks display.
George Heriot, knowing his own monarch of old, disentangled himself from his new Danish friends and their ladies and sought out the Duke of Lennox. Sure enough, they found King James already ensconced in the anteroom to his bedchamber, with a few of his Scots intimates and Sir Philip Herbert, recently created Earl of Montgomery, settling down to a more profitable evening's entertainment with new bottles and flagons. At Lennox's representations, James looked over to where Heriot stood, frowned, shrugged and finally rose to totter through to his bedroom. The Duke waved his friend over, and together they followed their liege lord, and shut the door.
"Aye, Geordie-so you've come'. You've taken your time to heed my call, I'm thinking I"
"I am ever at your service, She. I dropped my other commitments as swiftly as I might"
"Ooh, aye-maybe. Yon was a right stramash, tonight."
"It was, She. I hope that His Majesty of Denmark will be none the worse."
"No' him. He's got a heid like a cannon-ba'. But yon Worcester woman was fell lacking in discretion."
'It was scarcely a discreet performance, in any way" Lennox commented.
The King chuckled. "Cecil will be fair whammled! Now-this o' the Master o' Gray."
Surprised, the two men considered their unpredictable sovereign.
"You ken what that limb o' Satan has the effrontery to be up to now? He is suing me, in the High Court o' Scotland, for fifty thousand pounds Scots. Me, the Crown! In my ain courts! Fifty thousand pounds!"
They could only stare.
"Hae you ever heard the like? The brazen insolence o' the man!"
"But suing you for what, She. What is his case?" "God kens!"
"But this is impossible. To sue you, to sue anyone, in the courts, the case must be accepted as having some basis for debate. In law. Has his case been so accepted? For hearing? In the High Court?"
"Well, sort o', Geordie-sort o' accepted. I'm right displeased about that Wi' Seton I made him Chancellor and Earl o' Dunfermline-and this is how he serves me. And Tam Hamilton o' the Coogate, the Advocate. He's a kind o' cousin o' yours, Geordie, is he no'? He should ha' kent better."
"There must be some sort of case, then You must have some notion, She?"
"Och, well-the man says I owe him some siller. For some ploy or other. Something long by wi'. When he was acting Chancellor," James said vaguely.
"Can he sue the King? In court?" Lennox demanded.
"They tell me he can-a plague on them a'! Ifs wicked. Unsuitable."
"It will be Your Majesty's Scottish Exchequer that he is suing, She. Not you personally."
"No, it's mysel’. Me, the King. The Lord's Anointed. It's beyond belief."
"And do you owe Him fifty thousand pounds, James?" Lennox asked. "Or did you?"
"Waesucks-no! It's a' havers. Och, maybe a pound or twa, here and there. Nae mair." "But you did owe him something?"
"Dinna harry me, Vicky-I'll no' have it. Ifs a' by wi'-long ago."
"But you remember the issue, Sire?" That was Heriot "If you wish us to help Your Majesty in this, we must know the facts. What was the occasion, do you recollect?"
"Och, it was yon ill business o' Patrick Stewart When he was Master o' Orkney. But it wasna onything like fifty thousand pounds. That’s a' interest he's claiming, the man. Wicked! Besides, I didna borrow the siller. Gray gave it" "How much, Sire?" "I canna mind. You've no' to keep at me, this way. Or I'll get some other body to do my business for me 1" "What do you wish me to do, Sire?"
"Go up to Scotland. Search out what Patrick Gray's at. Stop the case being tried. I'm no' wanting talk. And I'm no' wanting Orkney brought into it either-that's for sure I" "But the money was connected with Orkney in the first place?"
"I've said so, have I no'? Orkney's an ill limmer. But he's my cousin. I'll no' hae him brought into this." Perplexed, the other two exchanged glances.
"My mission is less than clear, Sire," Heriot complained. "I am at a loss to know what I am to do."
"Use your wits, man-that's what Find oot Gray's case. Discover its weaknesses. Come to terms wi' the wretch, if you must But keep it oot o' court. And keep Orkney oot o' it Is that no' simple enough?"
The other considered. There was a deal more in this than met the eye, obviously. And a murky deal, probably. But equally obviously, it would be better handled by himself than by officials. Moreover, he had come to Theobalds with the intention of trying to press James into letting him go to Scotland, to see Alison Primrose and try to clear up the other business, in which Orkney also was involved. He had been prepared to pay for that permission- and now he was being presented with it free. And without having to involve James in talk about the Queen's jewels-which he did not want to do. He should probably be thankful, relieved. He decided, however, that he might as well make the most of his opportunity, while he had it, in his friend's interest
"Majesty-you put the Earl of Orkney under a suspended sentence, for good behaviour. Under the supervision of my lord Duke here. Would it not be wise to send him up to Scotland likewise, if the Earl is to be kept out of this affair? My lord of Orkney will pay little attention to me, I fear. But my lord Duke could speak with authority, strength." Looking over at Lennox, he saw that man's eyes light up. He was ever longing to get away back to Scotland and Mary Gray-and James knew it, but was markedly loth to allow it
"Ooh, aye-I ken you twa" the King said, eyeing them shrewdly. "You pray each other's hands. I'm no' sure I can aye trust you, together. But maybe you're right on this ploy. Aye, you go too, Vicky-and see your Gray lassie. In case there's trouble wi' Orkney. You deal wi' him." "To be sure, James. It will be my pleasure." "When do you wish us to leave, Sire?"
"So soon as you may. Settle your affairs in London, and then off wi' you. But-bide a wee, bide a wee, man. I'm no' finished wi' you, Geordie. I'm needing some siller, see you. This good-brother o' mine, King Christian, is a right expense. And he's here for a month, yet Parliament's no nearer a proper settlement. I'm saving them millions on sojers and ships and guns and the like-but d'you think they thank me? They bicker and argue ower my royal moneys. I've made a' the knights I can, o' everyone that wants to be a knight-and a wheen that didna! Aye, and lords, too. Can you let me hae twenty thousand pounds Sterling, Geordie?"
Heriot groaned with himself. He was not to get off cheaply, after all. "Could Your Majesty not do with less, meantime?" he asked. "It will stretch me to the utmost Already I am outlaid more than that on your royal behalf. And the Queen…"
"No, I couldna, sir. That's the least I can get by wi', until King Christian goes. You'd no hae me begging frae him, would you?"
"No, Sire. Very well. I have five hundred pounds with me, in my box. The rest I shall bring here, as we pass on our way North to Scotland…"
"Do that, Geordie. And, see you, one Sir Amyas Ramsden, who had the customs o' Harwich haven to farm, has died. George Heriot, jeweller, shall hae them in his place. And I swear he'll mak mair oot o' them than ever Ramsden did! Off wi' you both…"