THE ELEGANT GENTLEMAN looked around George Heriot's modest premises with a strange mixture of hauteur and embarrassment. "My name is Dewsbury. Sir Asher Dewsbury," he declared. "And I, ah, come on a matter of business." That last was enunciated in a tone which made it clear that he would not be seen entering such a place were the business not highly important.
"As do most who come here," Heriot acknowledged, gravely. "How can I help you, Sir Asher?"
"I do not seek help, sir!" the other said sharply. "A matter of business as I say. No doubt to your advantage." That 'your' was stressed. "Ah. Then I should be grateful, Sir Asher-should I?"
"H'm. So I would judge. My man is outside. He has, ah, certain items for your consideration. Items of value, you understand. Have him in, Master Heriot" "You have him in, sir."
The knight frowned, then went to the door, and beckoned a servant in from the Exchange. The man carried a large and obviously heavy bag. "You will understand, sir, that the circumstances are unusual. Very unusual. And that this entire proceeding is distasteful to me."
"Ah. If I can lessen the distaste for you, I shall do so, Sir Asher. You wish to pawn something? It can happen to any man."
"Good God-pawn, sir? No! I do not… pawn! I have come to sell you certain items of great value. A simple matter of sale. The items are no longer required by me. They might as. well be made use of, by others." "I see. A worthy attitude, sir. May I see…?"
Dewsbury, looking detached but pained, gestured to his man to open the bag, and then stalked over to investigate some jewellery on display as though with a view to purchase on some suitable occasion He kept bis beautifully-garbed back stiffly turned while Heriot examined the contents of the bag.
"Very nice," his back was told, in due course. 'The silver of good quality, the plate fair, the jewellery excellent, if old-fashioned…"
"Old-fashioned, sir! What do you mean? These things have been in my family for generations."
"Exactly. As I say, old-fashioned though of fine quality. Fashions change in jewellery as in other matters, Sir Asher. You desire me to buy these?" "I desire to dispose of them. If your price is sufficient."
"I perceive the difference, sir. Let me see, then." Heriot examined the pieces more closely, took the jewellery over to the light, scratched the plate a little, and weighed all in his hands. "Shall we say seventy pounds, and one hundred pounds, and another seventy pounds? Two hundred and forty pounds Sterling in all. Or… make it two hundred and fifty pounds as a comfortable figure."
"But… 'fore God, man-this is ridiculous! Not half their worth. You are insulting, sir. I want six hundred pounds, at least."
"Ah. Then I am sorry, Sir Asher. I fear that you must take them otherwhere."
"I shall, sirrah-I shall. But-probably you are making a joke? Testing my wits? I am no pigeon to be plucked, Master Heriot Come, sir-give me an honest price."
"An honest price, sir, would be two hundred and forty pounds. But I will repeat my two hundred and fifty. If it is insufficient, go otherwhere, by all means. But I would advise you that you will not get ten pounds more in all London-and most like be offered less."
"But-the quality, man! You said yourself that the silver was good quality. In weight alone…"
"Unfortunately, it has your arms engraved on all, sir. One of the disadvantages of your rank and status. Before I could sell it for use by others, I must remove that. Otherwise, merely melt all down." Dewsbury looked shaken. 'You swear on your word as a gentleman, Master Heriot, that I will get little more elsewhere?" "I am a tradesman and no gentleman, Sir Asher-so I cannot swear as one. But I will swear as the King's jeweller that it is so. If that will serve."
"Ah. Yes-to be sure. But… I need six hundred pounds, sir. And quickly. I can spare no more such items." The knight took a turn up and down the shop. "Master Heriot-I believe that you also lend money upon usury?" "Aye-I am a usurer, sir. I lend-where the credit is good."
"I have two thousand, four hundred good acres in Dorset, sir. Two manors. Will you lend me the remainder of the six hundred pounds?" "I shall consider it, Sir Asher." "I require it at once. Today. I shall repay you, shortly."
"How shortly? My interest is twelve per centum. For three months. For folk in a hurry!" "You shall have it back before three months."
"Sir Asher-are you a wagering man? For I am chary of lending to such. Wagers can fail-and my repayment with them."
"No. No such thing. Never fear, sir-your money will be safe enough. Entirely safe. I have an office of profit in the Queen's household." "Ah. Indeed. Now you interest me, Sir Asher."
'Yes." The other seemed to recover something of his assurance. "I am to be one of Her Majesty's Almoners. Now-will you let me have the six hundred pounds, sir? Today?" "Is there such haste? Will tomorrow not serve?" "No. I must pay it tonight. To Sir Robert Carr." "Carr? You have been borrowing from young Carr?"
"I have not, sir. I have never borrowed aught in my life! At least, h'm, until today. But I must pay Sir Robert six hundred pounds by tonight-or fail to gain the office of Queen's Almoner."
Heriot drew a long breath. "I see. So… Sir Robert Carr is selling you the office? Is that it?"
"In a fashion, yes. He uses his influence with the King to gain such appointments. And, and charges for his services."
"Six hundred pounds is a large charge, Sir Asher 1 See you, I had heard rumours of this practice-but doubted the truth of it. There have been other such… arrangements?" "To be sure. Carr can gain anyone a place, they say. But he is damned expensive"
"Very well. I think that I may just be able to raise your six hundred pounds on the premises. Two hundred and fifty pounds to buy these items. And three hundred and fifty pounds at twelve per centum. I shall write the papers…"
After Dewsbury had gone, George Heriot sat very thoughtful, for a while.
Two days later, on a grey November afternoon, he presented himself at Denmark House, a thing he had not done for two years, and sought audience of the Queen. He had not to wait for so long as he expected, before being conducted to a pleasant small boudoir where Anne and the Marchioness of Huntly sat before a fire of scented logs, stitching embroidery. His welcome was stiffly wary- but at least the Queen called him Master Geordie, not Master Heriot, and managed a hint of a smile as he bowed low.
"You have not found occasion to call on us these many months," she declared, after the formal greetings. "In consequence, I have had to purchase my jewellery from Sir William Herrick." That was distinctly tart
"An excellent gentleman," Heriot said. "I am sure that he will serve Your Majesty passing well."
"No doubt," she answered, frowning a little. "His prices are fair. But he is mighty mean in the giving of credit." Heriot sought to look sympathetic, but did not comment. They eyed each other needfully. "What have you come for?" the Queen asked, at length.
"I have been desirous of coming, for long," the man declared then, frankly. "Wishful to end this… estrangement I still consider myself Your Majesty's servant. I have been much grieved that I no longer had your trust and confidence." "I have never refused you audience, sir. You have never come." "Because I did not believe my coming welcome, Madam." "And you do now?" "Who knows? But now, at least, I have reason to come. A matter to speak of." "A favour to ask, perhaps?"
"No. Or, perhaps, that too. But not firstly. My main concern, indeed my duty, is to inform Your Majesty of a matter which has come to my notice-and which I cannot believe you to be aware of. I believe that you ought to be aware of it I have learned that appointments are being made to your household-one appointment, at least-for payment of moneys. Payment to a person at Court. Large payment"
"To my household? Not the King's? How dare they? Are you sure, Master Geordie? Have you proof?" "Yes. I think I have." "My new Master of Hawks? Strickland?"
"No. Or, it may be so. But that is not the one I learned of. It is Sir Asher Dewsbury, Almoner."
"But-he is not yet appointed, I have but heard his name mentioned." "He has already paid for the office, Madam. Whether or no you have appointed him. And paid sweetly." 'To whom?" "To Sir Robert Carr."
'That… that insufferable youth! That insolent catamite! Great God-can this be true?"
"I fear it is. For I lent Dewsbury money only two days ago. For the payment."
"Infamous! Shameful! Hetty-do you hear? How I am misused, mocked! By that puppy! Oh, it is beyond all bearing. Carr's minions in my household! How long has this been going on?"
"I do not know, Madam. I heard only two days ago. Have you made many new appointments?"
"I do not make them, sir! I have scarce any say in the matter. It is James who appoints. Sweet Jesu-he who humiliates me, at every turn! But yes-there have been new appointments of late. Are they all… Carr's?" "Who knows? Perhaps not…"
'They shall all be dismissed! Every one! I will not be served by creatures of that depraved boy! And this Dewsbury shall never start. I will teach them!" 'Your Majesty's wrath is just and understandable," Heriot observed. "But see you-that might not be the wisest course. After all, the fault lies not with these, so much. The men so appointed. They may be honest enough, in their way. They may even love and desire to serve you well-sufficiently so to pay hundreds of pounds for the privilege! Although I doubt the worth and results of such a system. The fault lies elsewhere…" "The greatest fault lies with James!" "H'm. If His Majesty knows."
"You did not go to him? First? To tell him. You came to me. Why?"
Heriot chose his words carefully. "Before I spoke with His Majesty, I believed that you should hear of it. In case there was aught I did not know. In which the King might be… concerned."
"You mean…? You do not suggest, sir, that James might himself be in this, this wickedness? Dear Christ-that the money goes to him? Or part of it? "
That was exactly what the man did mean. But he could not admit to it. "Scarce that, Madam. But… His Majesty, I have learned, knows more of what goes on, in things great and small, than might be expected. It could be that he is aware of this of Carr-since there have been rumours-and has some purpose in permitting it meantime. I wished to discover this from Your Majesty."
"How should I know? James tells me nothing. You are his man-of-business, are you not? Have you been aware of him gaining large moneys, knowing not whence they came?"
"No. But I might never hear of it. I am not His Majesty's treasurer or purse-bearer. And I have not spoken with him these three weeks."
They discussed the subject for some time, the Queen outraged, seeing the hands of all against her, Heriot seeking now to limit his involvement, to soothe and parry. He even made a plea on behalf of Sir Asher Dewsbury, indicating that as Almoner he should be watched, in the distribution of the Queen's charities but pointing out ruefully that, if the man was actually refused the appointment now, after paying for it, he, Heriot, might never get his loan back When he deemed the moment ripe, even more carefully the visitor introduced his second subject. "I have this other matter, Madam, on which to seek your good offices. The same sorry matter on which we disagreed heretofore." "Ha!" the Queen said, stiffening.
"I am, I hope, a wiser man now that I was then," he went on, placatingly. "I have learned much of the constraint and difficulties under which Your Majesty laboured at that time-and could by no means tell me. In, h'm, the matter of the Earl of Orkney." Anne sat up straight, eyes widened, wary-but did not speak.
"I regret my… intransigence then," he went on. "Not understanding Your Highness's difficult position. With regard to the King, and his cousin Orkney. Now, I know better, seek your royal pardon, and make bold to suggest how an unfortunate situation could be improved."
"The Letters, sir? You mean that you know how we might gain those evil Letters?"
"Not that, Madam, I fear. I do not know just where these Casket Letters may be now-although I think that my lord of Orkney no longer has them, and may have given them to the Master of Gray."
"Which is worse, I say-for he is the cleverer man! That I knew, anyway."
"Not necessarily worse, Majesty, I think. The Master is cleverer, yes-but has scruples which the other has not. But that is not what I would speak of. It is rather the consequences of that trouble. The case of Mistress Hartside." "That creature of Orkney's. She deserved all that she got, sir!"
"Perhaps. Though I still believe her innocent of intent against Your Majesty, and used by others. But whatever the rights of it, the present situation is not good. Your Highness has always been held in love and esteem by the folk of Scotland. But your credit and fan name is being impaired by the holding of this unfortunate woman without trial for so long."
"How can bring her to trial, without all that evil business of Orkney and the Letters and the blackmail being brought to light? Before all?" Anne cried. "You must know very well my difficulty. That is why I sent her away, to Scotland. Where I have my own jurisdiction of Dunfermline."
"I know it, yes, and understand. But I believe that now the girl can be brought to trial, and safely. The Earl of Orkney will no longer have reason to try to use her…"
"But she will still deny all. Hartside will. And so it will all come out"
"Not necessarily, Madam. That would depend on what was the accusation. If you, or the Crown, accuses her of theft, of stealing those jewels, then to be sure she will deny it. But if a lesser charge is brought it might be otherwise. She might well be brought not to deny such. Or only make token resistance. So that the court appearance is only brief and formal, and no unhappy disclosures necessary."
"How could I make so small a charge? When Hartside has been kept under ward all this time? Would not I seem harsh? My credit suffer as badly, sir?"
"The charge would have to be carefully considered. I am no lawyer, but I believe it could be arranged. Suppose the charge was not stealing but misappropriation-a lesser offence. Or depositing jewels in her care with the Queen's jeweller-myself-without your royal permission? With no intent to defraud. Might that not serve?" "Would she admit to that?"
"She might well. With… guidance! She could admit that the jewels were in her care. That she brought them to me. And I would testify that I restored them to Your Majesty."
"And the money you paid her? What of that? She took it Was that not stealing? "
"Not, perhaps, if she intended to devote it to some good purpose in Your Majesty's service. In fact, she wanted it to give to her husband, so that they might settle in Orkney. You also, in fact, gave these jewels to the Earl of Orkney, and he gave some to his gentleman, Buchanan, Hartside's husband. So, it would be near enough the truth to say that she intended to give the money to one of the Earl's gentlemen, on your royal behalf, for services rendered to Your Highness."
Anne clutched her head. "This is too deep for me, Master Geordie! Too complicated. You spin a veritable spider's web" "Only that I may lift Your Majesty off the horns of this dilemma. And restore this young woman to her liberty, at minimum cost to all. A trial there must be, now. And a verdict which is not a mockery. But… no disclosures of the true cause. Can you think of better?"
"No. No, I cannot. You say that there must be a verdict. What would this verdict be?"
"It would be guilty, to preserve Your Majesty's credit But guilty of what would not too greatly hurt Margaret Hartside. With able counsel-such as Master Thomas Hope whom I have already retained, and discreet judges, the penalty would be no more than perhaps the repayment of the price of the jewels taken. With, say, perpetual banishment from Your Majesty's Court-to Orkney!" "Ha! But-would she, could she pay?"
"I would pay, Highness. In her name. It is little enough price to clear up so grievous a matter. A few hundred pounds Sterling."
"I see. You are exceeding noble in all this, Geordie Heriot! Why, I wonder?" "For my love for Your Majesty. And the King. That is all…"
"Aye-and your care for one, Mistress Alison Primrose! That she might be invited back to my Court and household, I think!" the Queen said shrewdly. "I am not a fool, my friend!"
A little put out-for it was near enough the mark; and a large part of the man's manoeuvring had been to ensure that Alison would not have to be implicated in the trial or called as witness, and so seem to oppose the Queen's interests-Heriot shook his head, perhaps too positively. "No, Madam-not that. Alison and I are to wed-as you will know. But it is the wish of neither of us that she should have any appointment at Court. Only, that as the wife of Your Majesty's jeweller, she should not be forever denied to come into your royal presence."
"I see. Very well, Master Geordie-that I might permit. If you can so arrange all this complicate matter, then you have my agreement to it. And, indeed, my thanks. When will it be done, think you?"
"It will all take some time to effect, I fear. Many letters to Scotland. Possibly a visit there again. And lawyers work but slowly. But, by the late spring, no doubt…"
Reasonably satisfied, George Heriot took his leave thereafter- and with the royal assurance that he was now, once again, welcome at Denmark House, on both professional and personal business, or no business at all. "With this last, especially, he was genuinely pleased.
His satisfaction, however, went for the moment into suspension when he got back to the Royal Exchange to find that during his absence no less a visitor than the monarch himself had called- and sounded not a little put out at finding his so-honoured tradesman from home. He had left commands with Heriot's foreman goldsmith that his master was to report at Whitehall Palace forthwith. Such summonses were by no means always productive of joy.
But at Whitehall, the urgency was not so apparent James was actually at table when Heriot arrived, not so much at a meal as at what might be described as an intellectual drinking exercise. It was held in the same gallery as that in which the judicial bewitchment-enquiry had taken place, but now the long table was littered with bottles and flagons instead of documents-although there were one or two dishes of cold meats and the like for those who felt that they required solids with their wine. And the company was very different, legal luminaries and litigants being equally and conspicuously absent Only courtiers were present, reinforced with a few selected divines of the rubicund and genial English sort, and no women. James, at the head of the table, was in full flood-although his preoccupation with the expounding and elaboration of his syllogisms and propositions did not prevent him from stroking, fondling and occasionally turning to kiss the gorgeous youth who sprawled at his side. He perceived Heriot's entrance, even so, and waved him to a chair near the foot of the table without pausing in his peroration.
The newcomer found himself seated between the former favourite, the Earl of Southampton, Knight of the Garter, and Sir Andrew Kerr of Ferniehirst, elder brother of the young man at the head of the table. Kerr, a cheerful if unscupulous extrovert, greeted him with a grin, and pushed a flagon and beaker towards him. Southampton was asleep and snoring gently. Directly across the table, while seeming to pay rapt attention to their liege lord's lengthy abstractions, two clients of Heriot's own, the Earl of Rutland and the Viscount Doncaster, were playing cards with miniatures behind an elaborate screen of feathered hats and bottles. From further up the table the Duke of Lennox drooped an eyelid at his friend and yawned carefully behind a hand.
The King was partial to these debating and syllogism sessions, in which he could display his learning and agility of mind. They were less popular with his courtiers-but very good excuses had to be tendered for non-attendance. The churchmen were there to provide the necessary vocal reactions-since the Court gentlemen, save for a few Scots, were almost without exception out of their depth from the first proposition. Also the divines were able sometimes to applaud the frequent Latin comments or aphorisms that fell from the salivating royal lips.
The present monologue-since it was that rather than any debate, at the moment-appeared to be concerned with the nature and identity of the language spoken in the Garden of Eden, James declaiming with an authority rivalled only by its lack of clarity. It seemed that his illustrious great-grandfather, James the Fourth of hallowed memory, had had similar conjectures, and for experiment had deposited two new-born infants, with a deaf-and-dumb wet-nurse, plus a large supply of food and drink, on the otherwise uninhabited islet of Inchkeith in the Firth of Forth, in the confident expectation that they would grow up, uncontaminated by the rest of the world, to speak the basic language of all humanity -which inevitably would be that of Adam and Eve, and therefore of Heaven itself. Unfortunately the second winter later prolonged gales prevented food being landed for the experiment for a couple of awkward months, and an excellent piece of research was spoiled through the death of all concerned. James, it transpired, had frequently thought of making a scientific investigation of his own, on similar lines-and might well do so yet. But meantime, his confident contention was that Gaelic was undoubtedly the language of Eden, and Heaven itself.
This averment aroused not a little doubt around the table, even from some who had appeared to be elsewhere in spirit. Nobody actually was so unwise as to challenge the statement, of course, at this early stage; but not a few eyebrows rose.
James nodded happily-and proceeded to prove his point. The Gaels of Scotland had migrated over long centuries to their present home in the north-west extremity of Europe, via the Mediterranean lands, and Spain, France and Ireland, leaving the names of Galicia, in Spain and Gaul, for France, behind them in the process. But they had first come from the very cradle of mankind, in Asia Minor. The Garden of Eden was known to have been sited, not in the Holy Land but to the north-east thereof, in the heart of Asia Minor, where the great River the Euphrates rose. And what was the name of that heartland? Galatia. Galatia, whence came the Gaels. The same to whom St. Paul wrote his epistle. The Gaelic-speaking people of Scotland, therefore, were the true and most dhect hehs of Adam and Eve, and their language the mother-tongue of all other languages on earth If any doubted this, let them consider-take the simple word cuibhle, pronounced cooyul, Gaelic for circular. From this came the English wheel and whirl and curl. From the same root came wirren, to twist, in German; virer, to turn, in French; vermis, a worm and verter, to turn, in Latin; vermicelli, in Itahan, Krimi in Sanskrit. And so on. Could any doubt, then, that the Gaelic was the language of Heaven, the Scots the heirs of Adam, and he the heir of Scotland -and so well-suited to be Vice-Regent of Christ Himself? He would be interested to hear any who contested his reasoning.
While, after a somewhat stunned silence, all disclaimed any such presumptuous assertion, and one of the divines launched into a fulsome eulogy of this resounding proposition, which explained so much of the heavenly wisdom which fell from the royal lips, James took the opportunity to use the said lips to plant a slobbering kiss on those of young Carr, and obviously to fiddle about with him below the table. The youth smiled lazily.
Carr was beautiful, there was no denying that. From a rather awkward boy he had blossomed into a fair and graceful young man, tallish, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, with curling auburn hah, worn long, above a wide brow, long-lashed and rather prominent eyes, a straight nose and full pouting lips, moistly red. Dressed all in cloth-of-silver, seeded with pearls, beribboned in blue, with cheeks and finger-nails as red as his lips, he lounged at amiable ease. Heriot, looking, wondered how much financial astuteness could he beneath that complacently immature exterior -and, if little, who was "managing" him?
'Your brother rides high, Sir Andrew," he murmured to Kerr at his side. "He has learned how to butter his bread since he went to France!"
"Is he my brother?" Dand Kerr asked. "Damme, sometimes I wonder! Leastways, he scarce acknowledges me, now! He never looks the road I'm on."
"Whose road does he look, then? Other than his own? My Lord Doncaster*s, there?"
"Jamie Hay's? Not him. He is as little heeded as am I. Robin finds his own kin tiresome. It seems he can do without us."
"I give him twelve months." That was Southampton, who seemed to have wakened up, at the other side of Heriot, "No more. Unless Overbury is less greedy." "Overbury? You mean Sir Thomas? The poet, my lord?"
"Poet? I'd call him otherwise, Master Heriot But that's the man. He, h'm advises our Robin. Did you not know?"
James suddenly was banging on the table with his tankard. It had seemingly occurred to him that Master John Donne, theologian, was implying, in his otherwise adulatory remarks, that he, the monarch had more or less imbibed knowledge of the heavenly language by divine right and godly connection, and had not had to learn it the hard way like other scholars. Much incensed, he announced that he had indeed had to study the Gaelic, along with Sanskrit, Hebrew, Greek, Latin and French, with the help of his tutor Geordie Buchanan's wicked tongue and ready belt. Many a sore ear and ringing head he had suffered, etcetera.
Heriot was not listening, his mind busy. This of Overbury interested him. Sir Thomas Overbury was quite famous, a politician rather than a courtier, an academic of some renown who had travelled widely abroad, an intimate of Ben Jonson and something of a protege of the Howards. But he was seldom seen at Court, and seemed an unlikely "manager" for young Carr.
James had got back to the subject of language, and was demanding of Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery, whether he agreed that Aramaic predated Sanskrit-for it was his wont to keep his courtiers on their toes in these sessions by descending on individuals for opinions without warning; moreover, he made a point of seeking to retain the goodwill of his displaced favourites and keeping them by his side. Montgomery, for instance, had been appointed to the profitable office of Keeper of the New Forest, coincident with Carr's rise. The Earl now declared that, being as a new-born babe in the matter of languages, having enough trouble with English and Welsh, he was well content to accept a master's ruling, namely His Majesty's.
The King reproved him for mental laziness, but was evidently well enough pleased. He went on exploring by-ways of the subject for a little longer, impervious to the growing weight of boredom around him, then suddenly appeared to become aware of the passage of time and brought the session to an abrupt close. He turned, and tweaked Carr's ear.
"It is late," he declared. "Just time for your Latin lesson, before we eat, Robin lad. Eh?" And when the youth groaned audibly, James took it to indicate pain in the said ear and leaned over to lavish kisses upon the organ. Then he rose, and personally aided the other out of his chair.
It was Heriot's turn to groan. He had heard about these daily hour-long Latin sessions with which the sovereign honoured his new favourite. It looked as though he himself would have a long wait yet.
But, as so often, James Stewart surprised. As he was hobbling to the door, on Carr's arm, amidst the relieved bows of all but his goldsmith, he paused and pointed down the chamber. "Geordie," he commanded, "come you."
Hurrying after the pair, Heriot came to the royal den, or study, with its lining of bookshelves, its blazing fire of holly-logs and table covered with wine-flagons and papers.
"Aye, Robin-here's Geordie Heriot," James said, turning. "A canny chiel who kens what's what. Kens how to mak siller grow, forby-which is something that interests yoursel', if I'm no' mistaken, heh? This is Robin Carr, Geordie. Is he no bonnie?"
The other two bowed stiffly to each other, without any extravagant warmth.
"Aye." The King glanced keenly from one to the other. "You'll get on fine, I see! Waesucks-you'll hae to!" There was just a hint of asperity behind that. "Now, Robin-awa' you and empty that bladder o' yours. You're ay needing, at the wrang moment. I want a word wi' Geordie. Back in five minutes just, and we'll get on wi' the Latinity."
As the door closed behind the young man, James put a finger to thick lips, and tip-toed to the door. Opening it suddenly, he peered out Satisfied, he closed it again. "He's a great one for listening behind doors, is our Robin," he confided with a chuckle. "And I want this to be a surprise." "Indeed, She?"
"Aye, Geordie-indeed. I want you to contrive a bit present for me, see you. For Robin. Another medallion, or ornature, like you made for the woman Arabella. But no' a pendant, mind- something man suitable for a man. Square, I'd say, no' round. Here's what I want-a bit tablet o' gold, set wi' diamonds, wi' the Kerrs' arms in the front-that's red and white so it'll need to be rubies and pearls-supported by a lion and a unicorn. That's me, see? And just the plain gold at the back. But it's no' to be just what it seems. It's to be able to open, see-a wee case. Two sides, hinged thegither, and wi' a cleek to shut it. Inside there's to be a bit mirror on one side-for Robin's right keen on admiring him-sel. in mirrors-and a depicture o' mysel' on the other. A miniature, just. I'm getting yon Dutchman Hendriks to paint it for me. So you'll need to get the size right, mind. Is that no' a right cunning notion, Geordie?" Heriot swallowed. "Cunning, She-but expensive!"
"Och, well, we'll no' fret about a bit expense, man, you and me! What's a few pounds to a man who writes notes-of-hand for twenty thousand pounds Scots, and doesna care if he gets it back? Forby, I'm working on a new scheme to mak siller. In right substantial style. Och, a notable scheme." The other's heart sank. "Still another scheme, Sire?"
"Aye-and a bonnie one. I canna mak that many mah knights. The market is near overgorged, as you might say. Eheu iam satis! But there's plenty siller yet in a' yon new knights' pouches. I could be doing wi' some o' it. Maybe I can mak them pay twice. Supposing I was to offer to mak their knighthoods hereditary? So they could leave them to their sons! Like lords can. They'd be willing to pay for that, eh? How think you o' that for a ploy, Geordie man?"
"But-Sire, the whole notion and principle of knighthood is that it is gained by only one man. For himself. A personal accolade and honour. It is not something which can be passed on, to a son or anyone else."
"No, knighthood itsel’ isna. But the title o' Sir to their names. "We'd hae to ca' it something else. A totally new order. Higher than knight, but below the peers, Hereditary sirs. Folk would be right clamouring for the like, eh? Is it no' a notion?"
"I suppose… yes, I suppose it is, Sire." Even though Heriot sounded doubtful, he was much relieved that this was the new money-making device rather than what he had feared, the selling of appointments at Court, through Carr. Though he had still to ascertain that was not, in fact, also in process. He brought the subject back to that young man. "But that is for the future, Your Majesty. This jewel, for young Robert Carr, will be very costly now. Must it be so handsome? Plain silver, with the mirror and miniature, would serve equally well, would it not?" "No, it wouldna. What ails you at Robin Carr?"
"Just that I would wish Your Majesty to save your money. When this young man is already making so much out of your royal kindness." "Meaning-what, sir?" That was rapped out.
"Meaning, Sire, that Sir Robert seems in no need for expensive presents from yourself, when he is making so much out of selling positions at Court to the highest bidder. With or without your royal knowledge."
There was silence in that book-lined room for long moments. Then the door opened, and Robert Carr came strolling in.
"Out!" the King snapped, stabbing a pointing finger. "Awa' wi' you! When I want you, I'll cry on you! And dinna stand listening at the door." Shocked, the young man gaped, but withdrew hurriedly.
"So you, Geordie Heriot, would teach me my business, eh?" James said, rounding on the other. "You believe you ken better than your lord. And no' for the first time. D'you think I dinna ken every last thing about that laddie oot there, man?"
Heriot cleared his throat. "I did not conceive… that Your Majesty could know… and be unconcerned. Of this scandal of the selling of appointments…" "I ken fine. And am watching it" "But…"
"But nothing! Credit me wi' a mite o' sense, will you? You're no' the only man can add two and two. When Robin goes ower far, I'll check him."
"Six hundred pounds Sterling for an Almoner's position in the Queen's household, strikes me as sufficiently far, Sire! Even if the system is accepted as, as respectable, that sum, equal to seven thousand pounds Scots, seems to me… exorbitant! And the youth who demands it, both unscrupulous and grasping." Heriot paused, blinking, himself alarmed at his own rashness in making the charge.
Oddly enough, James only chuckled. "Unscrupulous and grasping!" he repeated. "So that's Geordie Heriot's considered opinion? Hech, man-you're a right judge o' character. For Robin Carr is unscrupulous and grasping. And other things, forby. He's sort of cunning, but no' really intelligent. He has a gift for survival, though sae young. And he kens how far he can go-oh, aye, he kens that fine. And that's important But he's bonnie, bonnie. And has… other attributes. Aye, attributes."
"I fear I do not understand Your Majesty, in this matter," Heriot was genuinely bewildered. "You perceive all these dangerous failings in this young man. Yet you cherish him, and wink at his, his extortions?"
"Who said they were dangerous failings, Geordie? Failings, aye., maybe-but no' dangerous. No' to me, anyway! Which is, what matters. I can use them-fine I can use them." James moved quietly back, to listen at the door. "See you," he went on, voice lowered. "I wouldna tell this to a'body but yoursel', Geordie- for you can keep your mou' shut Aye-and you'd better! I'm for training that laddie up. For a purpose. A right usefu' purpose. I'm training him, and testing him oot And he's doing fine. What d'you think I'm wasting an hour every day teaching him Latin for? He'll need to ken Latin, presently-and a wheen other things-for my purposes. The realm's purposes." "The realm's, Sire? Young Carr…?"
"Just that, Geordie. Here's the way o' it. The man Cecil's getting auld and done. Forby, he's mair crabbit each day. I've never liked the man-but he was necessar. He isna, any longer! I've had enough o' Robert Cecil. Fortunately the man's sick, and will soon die, God willing! So my physicians tell me. I'm going to rule this realm, Geordie, without any poking, prying, arrogant Secretary o' State telling me what I can do and what I canna. I'll rule it fine, lacking any such, I do assure you! Cecil will go-and no' be replaced." Heriot was careful now to keep his tongue between his teeth.
"Now-this damned English parliament, aye and the Council too, they're no' like our Scots ones. They reckon they hae a God-given right to interfere in a' concerned wi' the rule o' this realm, my realm. I'm told that a principal Secretary o' State is necessary, part o' the machinery o' the state, between the monarch and themsel's. Very well-I'll appoint a new Secretary o' State, when I'm ready. But nae man clever, ambitious, masterfu' and high-born limmers like Cecil! Nae mair nominees o' the Howards, or other great pridefu' English houses, who think to control me, their lord, through their watch-dog at the Secretary's desk! Na, na-I aim to appoint Robin Carr. Who'll do what I tell him and naething mair-or I'll ken the reason why!" Licking his lips, the other shook his head, wordless.
"D'you no' see it, Geordie man? Use your wits. I've been looking for such a one, for long now. Young Robin will owe a' to me- no highborn lordling wi' powerfu' relatives behind him. And I'll ken every thought in his heid! You ca' him unscrupulous and grasping-and so he is. But a Secretary o' State needs to be that- under control. Rule and governance demand methods that may be wouldna do for a shopkeeper nor yet a minister o' religion. Ooh, aye-and Robin will manage a' such for me, fine. He thinks he's got a' these folk appointed to office in his wee bit pocket! Fine, fine-but it's my pocket they're in, no' his! They'll likely a' come in right usefu', one day. And meantime, they pay up! They're right carefully chosen, these, mind, afore the whisper reaches them that Robin's the lad to approach I" "I… I am lost in wonder" Heriot got out.
"Aye, well-I must needs see to the proper ordering o' this realm the guid God has put in my care. One way or the other," James added complacently.
"And Sir Thomas Overbury, She? Does he fit into this, this proper order?"
"Overbury? What ken you o' Tam Overbury, man?… That was sharp."
"Only that I have heard his name linked with Carr's. And it seemed an… unlikely pairing."
"Overbury is a fell clever man," the King said, slowly. "He is in my confidence. Where did you hear this, Geordie? He keeps awa' frae Court. I dinna want him brought into it."
"It was my lord of Southampton mentioned the name. Casually enough."
"Harry Wriothesley did, eh? I'll hae to look into this. Overbury maun be discreet-or he goes! Aye-and that applies to mair than Tam Overbury, Geordie Heriot. You understand that fine, I am sure?" "Your Majesty has had long experience of my discretion."
"Aye well. Mind it Now-it's time for Robin's Latin. Fetch the laddie in, man…"