IT IS EIGHTEEN miles from Edinburgh to Linlithgow in West Lothian, on the road to Stirling, and George Heriot and his grooms, getting away from Holyroodhouse again without hindrance, required less than four hours, even in darkness, to reach it. So they halted at the little wayside kirk of Binning, tied their horses to tombstones, and rolled themselves in their cloaks to sleep on the floor within. If the grooms thought it sacrilegious, Heriot did not
In the event, they overslept despite the hardness of the beaten-earth floor, for they were all bone-weary with long riding. Heriot left a silver groat between the leaves of the pulpit bible to mystify the minister, and moved on to Linlithgow town to breakfast, also to shave, before presenting himself at the gatehouse of the brown stone palace up on its green eminence above the wimpling loch in the sunny, breezy, April mid-morning.
He had no difficulty in getting past the guard, for all the Queen's household knew him. He had been the Queen's jeweller since 1597 and only later entered the King's service also. Anne was not the easiest person to deal with, any more than was her husband; but Heriot was grateful to her, for it was undoubtedly through her patronage and influence that he had become not only jeweller but banker to a large part of the aristocracy of Scotland. His father before him, of the Heriots of Trabroun, had been a prosperous Edinburgh goldsmith and burgess, but it was George's connection with the Court which had brought the real wealth.
Queen Anne had her own Court, smaller but almost independent of her husband's-for the truth was that they got on only indifferently well together. It would, indeed, have required the patience and forbearance of a saint to put up with James Stewart, in matrimony-and Anne of Holstein was far from saintly, or even patient. She was moody, extravagant, pleasure-loving and strong-willed-but also she was essentially kind-hearted, even generous, and straightforward. A daughter of the vehement, restless but autocratic Frederick the Second of Denmark, she took but ill to many of James's ideas on both monarchy and matrimony.
In the royal quarters of the handsome, quadrangular palace, much older than Holyroodhouse, Heriot was informed that the Queen was still abed. He was not surprised, for frequently she did not stir before midday-partly it was suggested in protest against the King's habit of rising, and rousing the palace, in the early hours of the morning, to indulge in his passion for hunting. Also, she not infrequently had been dancing or otherwise enjoying herself until much the same hour. Now, of course, she was seven months pregnant and so had ample excuse.
Heriot requested that his presence be made known to her, if she was waking, nevertheless.
A large Junoesque lady with a magnificent figure and a smouldering, sensual look to her, presently swept in to him, in the anteroom. "Why, here is a surprise, Master Heriot!" she cried. "How came you here? We-Her Grace thought you in London. With her husband. As did I, with mine! Have you been dismissed, sent back, like the rest of us? Do not say that Jinglin' Geordie Heriot is no longer required by our odd liege lord?"
The man was careful how he answered that-however used he was becoming to the question. For this woman was thought by many to be a spy for King James. Certainly the Queen so reckoned her and cordially loathed her. But she could not get rid of her. She was indeed, in theory, her principal Lady in Waiting, maintained in that position by the King's direct orders. Nevertheless, Heriot had doubts about whose spy she might be-if any- tending rather to consider her a choice of the Master of Gray, who liked this sort of woman, while James certainly did not
"Sent back, yes, my lady-but, I think and hope, not dismissed," he said. "His Grace merely entrusted me with a message for the Queen."
"Indeed! An important message, surely, for the King to use the richest man in Scotland as his messenger?"
"That is a title I cannot claim. Indeed, I dare swear that your ladyship could buy me out twice over and scarce notice the cost!"
'You are too modest, sir. But then, you always were almost over-modest-seeming, were you not? I like a man who knows his worth! And I think you are… very worthy! In more than just money, Master George!" She came quite close as she said that, and there was no mistaking the hint of conditional promise and invitation in her throaty, deep voice.
"I am flattered, Duchess," he said, meeting her sultry and at the same time overbearing gaze. "I know my worth to within a pound or two. And yours sufficiently to recognise that you have no need for such as me!" "I said in more than money, friend." "Knowing my own worth, lady, includes knowing that George Heriot without his money, would be worth-that!" And he snapped his fingers. "Even to kindly disposed duchesses!"
She frowned frankly, drawing away a little. Her voice colder, she asked; 'The King? He is well? No mischance sent you back?" "None." "No tidings disturb His Grace?" "Should there be, lady?"
"Stop fencing with me, man!" The Duchess of Lennox was not a subtle woman-she did not have to be. "I am not some simpering miss to be foxed with words. Or the lack of them I What brings you back to Scotland, to Linlithgow, so soon? If you are not dismissed? If there is nothing amiss?"
The man thought quickly. Would anyone so devious and careful as the Master of Gray use such a matter-of-fact minion as this? James might-but in that case the Duchess was no danger. Moreover, she was one of the greatest heiresses in the land, a bride found for the Duke of Lennox two or three years before, while they were both under-age; if she anybody's spy, it was not for payment-at least, not for money. He had no wish to make an enemy of anyone so powerful, and wife of the Duke-although she was only that in name, their marriage forced on them, and his affections wholly centred on Mary Gray.
"The King grew concerned that Her Grace might require aid, guidance, possibly money," he said carefully, but less stiffly. "He chose to send me, with his messages and instructions, as perhaps able to supply such, in some measure."
She eyed him directly, ponderingly, for a moment, and then shrugged. 'To be sure, Her Grace always requires money I And guidance! As to aid, is there especial need?"
"I hope not If so, I have yet to discover it. Has your ladyship anything of the sort in mind?"
The tables turned, she shook her head. "She is troubled at not being able to see her son. But that is nothing new. And she is, of course, seven months gone with child…" She turned, as a young woman came into the antechamber. "Knock before you enter, girl!" she snapped. "I would have done, had I known that your ladyship was with the gentleman." The newcomer dipped the merest sketch of a curtsy to the Duchess. There was nothing pert or unsuitable about it, but undoubtedly her answer had been quick and could have borne more than one shade of meaning. She beamed an almost impish smile on the man. "Her Grace is ready to receive you, Master Heriot," she added.
The Duchess drew a deep breath, to raise her splendid bosom, opened her lips to speak and then thought better of it With a glare at the girl and a mere nod at Heriot, she swept out of the room as proudly as she had entered. The man cleared his throat, blinking his surprise.
The girl was very young to have got rid of so formidable a lady, little more than a child indeed, of a slim, boyish figure, great lively eyes, not really pretty but with a gamin attractiveness and a most engaging and ready smile. "This way, if you please," she invited.
"H'mm. You are surprisingly, er, effective, young woman," he said. "You accomplished in two moments what I had been unable to do in ten minutes!"
She grinned widely, showing excellent, regular teeth. 'The Duchess is perhaps less successful with her own sex than she is with yours, sir!"
"Indeed " Absorbing the implications of this, and from a chit of a girl who looked scarcely past school age, Heriot followed her out into the arras-hung corridor. "You are new in the Queen's service, I think? In fact, I am sure of it I would scarce have overlooked you, i' faith!"
"Yes, sir. I am Her Grace's newest Maid-in-Waiting. Alison Primrose by name."
'Primrose? That is not a common name. Are you sib to James Primrose, Clerk to the Privy Council, perhaps?"
"My she, sir. As he is to eighteen others!" And her laugh rang out along the corridor, clear and uninhibited.
"Ah." Heriot had heard of the little lawyer's abounding brood -no doubt an excellent whetstone on which this child had had to sharpen her wits and polish her assurance.
She seemed to read his thoughts. "After my family, Mistress Gray told the Queen that I would find her service but little trouble," she confided. "Duchesses and countesses the least of it!" "Mistress Gray? She was in this?"
"Why yes, sir. She is my good friend. And has no little weight with Her Grace."
So this was Mary Gray's contact within the Queen's household? As adept as her father, probably, at gaining information and influencing events-a shrewder choice than the Duchess of Lennox, for sure. He would keep an eye on Alison Primrose-and no great hardship, either.
A blast of hot and distinctly stuffy air met him as the girl threw open the door of the royal bedchamber and announced him cheerfully.
The large room was as untidy as it was overheated, with a huge log fire blazing in a twelve-feet-wide open hearth, despite the warm April morning, clothes, furs and women's things littered everywhere, chests open and spilling, small dogs squabbling and yapping, and the great bed itself a heap of disarranged linen, covers and pillows, in which Anne and two dogs sat.
"Master Geordie, good Master Geordie!" the Queen cried, in the thick and guttural accent she never quite lost. "Why you are come I do not know. But you are welcome. It is good to see an honest man's face, a man I can trust" And she extended a be-ringed hand to him, over the dogs and bedclothes.
He bowed deeply and moved forward to take and kiss the outstretched hand.
George Heriot was a noticing man, but he did not have to be to wonder what the Queen had been doing while he waited for her to be ready to receive him. For her long hair was still in an uncombed cascade about her shoulders, and under the loose and gaping purple bed-robe she was most evidently entirely naked, her swollen breasts and distended belly very visible and not particularly enticing. Admittedly she wore bracelets as well as the many rings, which flashed with diamonds, rubies and sapphires-of Heriot's own providing-but they might well have been on all night. She was a thin-faced, sharp-eyed, long-nosed and chinned young woman, still only twenty-seven, with a high brow, not beautiful but with a very white alabaster skin, a lively manner and an air of breeding. Heriot noticed something else. The pillows and bedclothes to the Queen's left clearly showed that she had had a bedfellow until very recently. He did not really suspect it to have been a man.
"You may go, Primrose," Anne said, and the girl bowed herself out. There was however a faint hint of movement, of a presence, from an open-doored dressing-room adjoining.
"I rejoice to see Your Grace. And looking well," the man said. "I bring you a letter from the King. Also messages of His Grace's love and warm attachment His wishes that all should go most well with your affairs."
The Queen took the proffered letter but dropped it on the covers. "His Grace is but little concerned with my well-being, I think," she said briefly. "That is not why he sent you, I swear."
"H'rr'mm. Your Grace must not think that. It is wholly because of his thought and care for you that I am here, I promise you…"
"Has he sent orders for my son Frederick to be delivered to me? From that wicked old woman. My first-born. Only if he has will I believe in his love and attachment, Master Geordie."
Heriot cleared his throat. "Er, not yet. Not exactly that, Madam…"
'Then his messages are of no interest to me!" Passionately she said it. "He is a cruel and wicked man, and no true husband. How can he separate a mother from her children so? He is a monster, a heartless monster!"
"Your Grace-he is none so ill as that! Because Prince Henry is heir to the throne, the King is concerned lest men of ill will lay hands on him, use him for their own ends, against the Crown. As indeed they did to himself, as a boy. At Ruthven. He cannot have that to happen. So he keeps him in the secure fortress of Stirling, in the care of the Mars. Lady Mar was his own foster-mother, her son, the present Earl, the King's oldest friend, almost as good as a brother…"
"And both of them hate me, the Queen! Frederick's mother." It was one of the oddities of the Scottish Court that the Queen Insisted that her older son was named Frederick, after her father the King of Denmark, while James named him Henry as gesture towards Elizabeth and her father Henry the Eighth, in his gropings towards the coveted English succession. Which had come first at the christening, only Bishop Cunningham of Aberdeen knew for sure, who had diplomatically mumbled the names. "Highness-I do believe that you mistake. It is not so…"
"You think not? Then why will the woman not allow me to see my son? In Stirling Castle. Deny me, the Queen I Her son Mar is with the King, in England. And she forbids me I My little Frederick-in that she-devil's clutch!"
Heriot drew a deep breath, and came to a decision. He lowered his voice, glancing towards the open dressing-room door. "Madam -have you had any word of a move to, er, take your son out of Stirling Castle?"
"What Jeg forstar ikke. Hvad er der i den? Take him? Who? When? What is this?" She leaned forward urgently, uncaring for her more fully displayed nakedness.
Satisfied that Anne, who was no dissembler nor actress, could by no means fabricate this surprise and eagerness, he went on. "Has the Master of Gray had word with Your Grace? Or the Mistress Mary, indeed?"
"Gray? Saints protect us-if that man is in it, then no good will come of it. He is, I believe, the Devil himself!"
"So I have heard others declare. Your Grace knows nothing of this?"
"How should I know? The Master of Gray does not confide his plots to me! What is it? What has my son to do with it?"
"Highness-there is someone in your dressing-room. I can hear it. What I have to say is not for other ears…"
"Mercy-it is only Henrietta! My good confidante and bedfellow." She raised her voice. "Hetty, sweeting-come. I have no secrets from Hetty." A tall, pale young woman came out, rather guiltily, her bed-robe wrapped considerably more tightly around her than was the Queen's, pretty in an anaemic way, Henrietta Stewart, Marchioness of Huntly, sister of the Duke of Lennox.
Heriot bowed. He was not as relieved as he might have been. For this young woman, brought from France to marry Scotland's premier Catholic noble, the Gordon chief, George first Marquis of Huntly, was herself strongly Catholic, a notable entertainer of Jesuits and credited with seeking to turn the Queen to the old religion. And, according to Mary Gray, the Master looked for support for his plot from the Catholics. She had even named Huntly, himself a notorious schemer.
"Hetty-you know Master Heriot?" Anne said. "My true servant and friend." The other nodded, silent
"I know her ladyship's husband, my lord of Huntly," the man said. "We have had, h'm, dealings."
"Ha-I swear he owes you money, like all the rest As do I, indeed!"
"His lordship is, I am sure, an excellent risk, Highness. It is my privilege…"
"Save us-you need not be afraid of miscalling Huntly in front of Hetty. She seldom sees him-nor wishes it otherwise! She had no more choice in wedding George Gordon than had I in wedding James Stewart! We are neither of us fortunate in our husbands 1"
The man looked uncomfortable. "Your Grace jests. And I am a loyal subject and servant of King James also."
"How loyal?" Anne jerked. "You were my servant, my jeweller, before you were James's, do not forget." He nodded. "I never forget it And am grateful," he assured.
"Then-tell me of this plot You may speak out before the Marchioness. She is wholly trustworthy."
"I was a d'Aubigny Stewart's daughter before ever I was a Gordon's wife," that young woman said quietly, her first contribution to the discussion,
"Very well, Highness. There is nothing certain. But Mistress Gray believes that there is a plan to get Mar to yield up the Prince Henry, and to declare him King of Scots in place of his father, gone to England. The Master of Gray and sundry others, to rule the country in the boy's name." "Sweet Jesu! They would, would depose James? Impossible!"
"Not so, I fear. After all, they deposed the King's mother, Mary. And King James is in no state to start his English reign by raising an army against Scotland and going to war." The women stared at him.
"His Grace has grievously offended the Master of Gray, who so largely built up bis succession policy. And he is an ill man to cross. Moreover, there is no strong man, or strong faction, left in Scotland to support the King's cause. Most of his friends are gone south with him. The Catholic lords are here still, and strong, but…" He left the rest unsaid.
"Aye-George would take a hand in this, I swear!" the Marchioness averred.
"A mercy! The Master of Gray, it would be, to think of this! But-Mar? He is James's friend. No friend of mine, God knows. And an oaf! But would he betray James?"
"This I do not know. It is the one factor which makes me doubt. Mar is with the King now. He was never keen on the English succession, I think-but I have no reason to believe that he would turn against the King. Nevertheless, the Master of Gray seldom misjudges."
"He is an unpleasant man," Lady Huntly observed. "I would not trust him." "What are we to do?" the Queen demanded.
"I think we must go to Stirling, Your Grace. If you are able to travel? Demand the Prince Henry from the old Countess."
"I wrote a letter to her. Requiring her to deliver up my son to me. She sent reply that she would not. She would give him up only to the King."
"If Your Grace went, in person. I with you. Saying that I came from the King. She might heed us. Lacking her son and the other Erskines." "If you think it. When? When shall we go?" "The sooner the better. For the Master may strike at any time." 'Today, then. We shall eat, and then ride. Hetty-my clothes…"
"Ah, scarcely so soon, Highness. It is noon, and near twenty miles to Stirling. In Your Grace's present state you dare not ride fast. Tomorrow will serve, I think. Moreover, we need a tail of men. The Queen must ride properly escorted. How many have you here?" "A score. More."
"Not sufficient, Highness. For this. You must appear strong. With authority."
'Livingstone, the Earl of Linlithgow will find me men. At Haining Castle, but a few miles away. He keeps my daughter Elizabeth-but is no unfriend."
"Good, I shall go speak with him. Tomorrow, then. In the morning. Highness-have I your permission to retire?"
'To be sure. Ring the bell for the Primrose girl, Hetty. She will find you a room and see to your comfort, Master Geordie." "I thank you. She looks to be a bright lass, that one."
"Over-bright, perhaps. For her years. I do not know, yet, whether I may trust her. I trust few in Scotland, even in my own household."
"Including my lusty good-sister" the Marchioness said, sniffing. Alison Primrose appeared, and Heriot bowed himself out.
"Where would you wish to have your bedchamber, Master Heriot?" the girl asked, innocently, in the cooler corridor. "Near the Duchess's? Or… otherwhere?"
"Nearer yours, perhaps," he answered lightly. "Though- would I be any safer there…?"
The next morning, escorted by the Earl of Linlithgow and sixty men-at-arms, the Queen and her ladies rode for Stirling, Anne carried in a horse-litter slung between two placid jennets, with George Heriot insisting on the most unhurried progress- for the last thing he wanted was for the King to accuse him of causing his wife to miscarry, as she had done once already. They went by the Roman Wall and the great Tor Wood, largely through Livingstone lands. On Heriot's suggestion Lord Linlithgow brought along his charge, the Princess Elizabeth, a lovely and vivacious girl of seven, all spirited grace, extraordinary to be the offspring of James and Anne, although not so extraordinary a grand-daughter for Mary Queen of Scots. She elected to ride with Alison Primrose, and together they lightened a dull morning.
George Heriot rode with these two-save when he was summoned to the Queen's side-partly because they were the best company, partly in that he had, as ever, to be careful not to seem to presume on the Queen's friendliness. He was only an Edinburgh burgess, after all, and in the company of the Earl, Sir Harry Lindsay, Master of the Queen's Household, the Duchess of Lennox, the Marchioness of Huntly and other high-born individuals, he was of very humble status. Admittedly he came of lairdly stock, the Heriots of Trabourn, in Lothian, but that was three generations back, and his father had been a goldsmith, a tradesman, before him. Not infrequently his privileged position close to the Crown was an embarrassment.
They came to the grey, climbing town of Stirling, above the silver coils of the River Forth but crouching beneath its soaring rock-girt citadel, in early afternoon. Queen Anne shook her fist at its lofty battlements. "My poor Frederick!" she cried.
Through the narrow streets and up the steep hill they rode to the ancient fortress of Scotland's kings where so much of the land's turbulent history had been written. Their approach had been under observation for a long time, inevitably, and at the wide forecourt apron, high above the town and meandering river, the great gatehouse doors were found to be barred against them, the drawbridge up.
"Who comes in armed strength to the King's royal castle of Stirling?" a harsh voice hailed them from the gatehouse parapet.
"The Queen, fool!" Linlithgow shouted back. "Can you not recognise the royal standard of this realm?" And he pointed to the flag carried by one of his men. "Her Grace requires to see her son, the Prince Henry Frederick, Duke of Rothesay." A still larger royal standard than their own floated above the castle's topmost tower.
"Wait you, while I inform the Countess of Mar," the captain of the guard returned.
"Knave! Jackanapes!" the Earl roared. 'Think you to keep your Queen waiting like some packman at the door. Lower this bridge and open the gates immediately." There was no answer from the gatehouse.
As the illustrious company fumed and fretted, the Queen swore that the guard-captain would hang for this.
"He would hang the more promptly had he let us in, Highness," Heriot pointed out "The Countess Annabel has a notably short way with her, I have heard. She only is of account here."
"In my country she would be horsewhipped and then drowned I" Anne snapped.
"She would still have to be caught first, Your Grace 1" The Duchess of Lennox pointed out
Presently, a small shrunken figure appeared at the gatehouse parapet with the guard-commander, rather ridiculous-seeming in a high hat with ostrich feathers and an old tartan plaid hugged about her, Annabel, Countess-Dowager of Mar, who had reared King James with her own family. She made no gesture towards the waiting company. "Her ladyship says that she listens," the commander called.
As the Queen exploded with something wrathful and presumably Danish, Linlithgow raised his voice.
"Countess of Mar-Her Grace is much displeased to be kept waiting thus. She demands that you punish severely your insolent churl of a guard. And that you order these gates open, forthwith, that she may see her royal son." The Countess spoke to the captain, who began to answer. "Not you, fool! We do not speak with underlings."
'The Countess says that she does not engage in unmannerly shoutings, sir." And as Linlithgow spluttered, "She says likewise that she will speak only with the Queen-if she is indeed present"
In the ensuing uproar, Heriot moved closer to xthe Queen. "Wrath will achieve nothing, Your Grace," he said. "I urge that you move nearer to the bridge-end where we can speak without shouting." Reluctantly the Queen ordered it
"Countess of Mar," she called clearly, from her litter. "I am Anne of Scotland-as you can see very well, unless age has blinded you I I require you to open these gates and deliver my son to me."
"The Prince Henry is at the hurly-hackit ower the hill, yonder," a thin but strangely forceful voice declared. "It will tak a whilie to fetch him, y'Grace."
"Then do so. At once. And meantime, open to me. I shall no longer wait here like some beggar at your door. Open. Do you understand, Countess?"
"If Your Grace will show me a paper, signed by the King, ordering that I do so, I'll no' refuse, Highness."
"How dare you make conditions to your Queen I Obey my royal commands."
"I dare fine. For, lacking my son, I take instructions only frae the King's Grace, Madam. And his commands are right explicit. Without his written orders, signed and sealed, I deliver the Prince to nonesoever. And none sets foot ower the brig o' this castle!" "But… I am the boy's mother 1" Anne all but wailed. "His Grace kens that I hae nae doubt!" "This is outrage…!"
"Countess Mar," Linlithgow interjected, "I have the same commission from His Grace. To keep and guard the Princess Elizabeth. But I do not keep her hidden from her royal mother. Nor does the Chancellor, Prince Charles. Here is the Princess."
"Maybe so, Livingstone. You ken your orders, I ken mine. But my laddie's the heir. You'll admit there's a difference." The Queen and Heriot exchanged glances.
"With His Grace in England, Her Grace has the supreme authority in Scotland, woman!" "No' to overturn King Jamie's commands."
George Heriot took a hand. "I am the King's goldsmith, Heriot, Countess," he called. "I have come straight from His Grace. At York. He sent me to ensure that the Queen and his family were well, and having no troubles. To help prepare them for their journey to London. His Grace said naught of keeping the Queen and her children apart. Indeed he intended otherwise, I swear."
"Sweer awa', mannie-but did he gie you a writing for me, to deliver up his son?"
"No. But His Grace told me to see well to them all. I cannot do that while you keep this Prince hidden away. He said…"
"Aye, he said! Or you say he said! I need mair than that. Aye, and I need mair than any goldsmith to come to me changing the King's express commands."
"It is of no avail!" the Queen cried. "The old witch is beyond all reason. It is insufferable…" Despairingly Heriot tried one last throw. "Countess-His Grace gave me fullest authority to spend all necessary moneys on the Queen and her family's behalf. My purse, therefore is… not short! If anything is required, for the Prince's welfare, or in discharge of outlays here-I can deal with it…"
"God's death-would you try to buy me, Annabel Mar, you huckstering httle shopkeeper!" the old woman shrilled. "Get out o' my sight before I hae my guards pistol you like an insolent scullion!"
Strangely enough, George Heriot bowed from the saddle. "I apologise, Countess," he said. "I should not have said that"
Alison Primrose actually clapped her hands-although her royal mistress looked less than approving.
"I will have no more of this," Anne declared. "That I, the Queen, should be repulsed and insulted, kept out of a royal castle, by this woman! She will suffer for it-that I vow before God! We go. At once. I will not stay here another moment"
'The boy, Highness? The Prince, your son? Do you not wait for him?" Linlithgow asked. "Yes-let us wait for Henry," the Princess Elizabeth cried.
"Frederick!" her mother said sharply. "Frederick Henry, child." She set her long chin obstinately. "No. I will wait no longer at this door, like a beggar. To be mocked by this she-devil. Sir Harry- we return to Linhthgow."
George Heriot was summoned to the royal bedchamber again that night, the Queen having retired, prostrate, on return from Stirling. He found her recovered somewhat, but very angry.
"What do we do now, sir?" she demanded of him, before he was fully into the room "It was on your advice I went to Stirling- to be defied and insulted. Have you any more, and better, advice forme?"
'The situation is difficult, Your Grace-but no worse than it was," he told her soothingly. "In the strongest fortress in the realm we cannot force the Countess to yield up the Prince. But then, neither can the Master of Gray! All depends on whether or no Lady Mar is in this plot of his. If she is not, then matters may be none so ill. For your son could scarcely be anywhere safer than in Stirling Castle, with that dragon guarding him."
"She will be in it, the horrible creature! The plot. She hates me!"
"I am less sure, Highness. Whether she hates you is scarce to the point, in this. What is to the point is-has she turned against the King? She did not sound so. And she has always loved him like a mother-a fierce mother, but still loved him…" "What of it? I want my son"
"To be sure. But Your Grace has managed without him all these years. A week or two more will not try you too sternly. What is important is that the boy does not fall into the hands of the Master of Gray and his friends. To the King's grievous hurt And your own. If the Countess of Mar is not in the Master's plot and can remain proof against his pressings and blandishments-then the Prince is probably safer with her than even with Your Grace here. This is no fortress. Nor is any other royal palace you might go to. You perceive my point?"
"I perceive that you said nothing of this yesterday, sir, when you urged me to go to get Henry!"
'True. Perhaps I had thought insufficiently deeply myself. But we had to find out whether or no Lady Mar was in the plot. For myself, I do not now think she is."
"Why are you so sure? I believe that you have conceived some shameful liking for the evil old bitch! You… you begged her pardon! When she had spat on me, your Queen!"
"Only in that I had made suggestion that she might be bribed. That was a mistake. Let us be glad that she cannot, it seems."
"Why think you she is not in Gray's pocket?" That was the Marchioness of Huntly, pale shadow of the Queen.
"I am not sure. But she did not speak and act as I think she would have done had she been concealing complicity. She made overmuch of the King's authority, for one about to throw it off. I believe she is still loyal to His Grace. Whether she remains so or not is another matter. Depending on the Master's… inducements."
There was silence in the over-heated chamber. The Queen dropped her head into her hands. "Is there nothing, nothing, that we can do?" she wailed.
'Two things, I think, Madam. We must send an immediate letter to His Grace, telling him of the plot and requesting written authority to release the Prince. As indeed Lady Mar said…"
"He will never give it. He is a cruel, unnatural man 1 He does not want me to have my son."
"He will not refuse you at the cost of his Scots throne, I think. I shall write also. He commanded me to keep him informed." He could scarcely say that James would pay more attention to his plea than to the Queen's. "And the other? You said, two things."
"That I might go again to Stirling. Myself. Alone, to see the Countess privily. Perhaps she would see me, hear me…" "Go deal with her? My enemy 1 Behind my back!"
"Scarce that, Highness, surely. Rather to test her. Discover if she knows of the plot. Warn her, if she does not, and seems against it"
"I will not have you having secret talks with that woman! Discussing me and my husband and son. I will not!"
"If you do not trust me, Highness, send one of your ladies with me. Lady Huntly, here…"
"I will not have any dealing with that she-devil," that lady declared. 'Then another. Merely to accompany me." "Not the Duchess, on my soul!"
"No. That might be unwise. The young woman Primrose, perhaps? She would not seem to rival Lady Mar in status, yet could represent Your Grace well enough. It could do no harm, and might achieve something. While we wait for the King's authority. We might even have word with the Prince…"
That same night an officer of the Queen's guard, with one of Heriot's grooms, set off for the South, with instructions not to spare themselves, or horseflesh, in getting their letters to the King with all speed. The other groom rode with them as far as Edinburgh, with a message for Mary Gray. And in the morning, their master, with Alison Primrose, headed westwards once more for Stirling at the crossing of Forth.
It was extraordinary how different was their reception from the previous day's. The castle drawbridge was down, and although it was strongly guarded and could have been raised at short notice, a single man and woman represented no threat They were civilly received and a messenger sent to inform the Countess of their identity.
With no undue delay they were conducted up from the gatehouse to a wing of the palace building on the crown of the rock, where in a small, bright room in a tower they found Annabel of Mar hunched over a fire. Close up, and in the cold morning light, she looked a very old and frail woman.
"Well, Master Heriot 1 You are a bold man, I think, to return thus to Stirling! And who is this slip of a lassie you have brought to support you against an auld done woman?"
"She is one of the Queen's Maids-in-Waiting, Countess. And I need all the support I can get!"
"Say you so, goldsmith? Perhaps you speak truth. You havena come offering me more o' your Edinburgh gold today, I'm thinking?" "No. That was badly done. A man may make one mistake, may he not?" "With me, only one, sirrah."
"He made apology, Lady Mar. Not all men would have done that," Alison Primrose said. "Nor required to, since gold speaks loudly!"
"Ho-so that's the style o' you, minx! The Queen's service must have changed since my day! Aye, then, goldsmith-to what do I owe this courtesy? No' love on Queen Anne's part, I wager."
"It is more on the King's behalf that I come, than the Queen's," Heriot said carefully. "His Grace was uneasy in his mind, and sent me North. I have discovered, with some reason."
"So? But it was his goldsmith that he sent North. Not one o' his Council, or lords. Such as my son. So I'm thinking that His Grace wasna just sae greatly concerned."
"I agree that he might have sent a more, er, resounding servant had he known what I now know."
"Come man-no riddles. I am ower auld for suchlike. Out with it. What have you come for? " "Seeking the safety of Prince Henry, Countess. That is what." "Prince Henry is very safe in Stirling Castle." The old woman leaned forward. "Was King Jamie concerned about that? In England? Has he been hearing stories?"
'Perhaps His Court ever seethes with rumours, as your ladyship well knows. And you? Have you been hearing stories?"
"What stories would I hear, up on this bit rock halfway to heaven?"
"I should think plenty. At Stirling. Where all men must come to cross Forth. And only thirty-five miles from Edinburgh-where stories start!"
'You'll need to be mair explicit, man. A deal mair explicit." It was not difficult to see where King James had picked up his fashion of speech.
"Very well. But I think that you will know of what I speak. There is a plot to take Prince Henry and declare him King of Scots. In room of his royal father. On the pretext that the King has deserted his Scottish kingdom for another."
She considered him steadily, from beady eyes. "You tell me so? And does King Jamie know o' this supposed fell plot?"
"I think not. Not yet But… I have little doubts that you did, Lady." She made no answer. "It is a damnable plot. And might well succeed." "Not while I hold the laddie here in Stirling Castle, goldsmith." He fingered his little beard thoughtfully.
"Perhaps that is why the Countess would not yield the Prince up yesterday." Alison Primrose put in, smiling. "Perhaps she believes the Queen also to be in this plot!" They both stared at her.
"Insolent jade!" the old woman said, but as it were automatically, without vehemence.
"Her ladyship would not think that!" Heriot declared, frowning-
"Would she no'?" the Countess snapped swiftly. "I've heard stranger ploys. All ken Anne cares little for her husband. Her sire, in yon Denmark, was a tyrant. She has the same spirit in her, I swear, the woman. She would perhaps prefer to be mother o' a powerless king who would do her will, than wife o' one who will not!"
"But…" The man floundered. "You do not truly believe that? That the Queen, in child again, could plot to bring down her own husband 1" "Mary did-James's mother."
Such a thought had just never occurred to George Heriot. Quite shaken for a moment, he groped in his mind. Then he shook his head.
"No. This is folly. The Queen desires only to win back her children into her own care, have this new baby, and then rejoin her husband in London. She is appalled by word of this plot" Annabel of Mar said nothing. "How do you see it, lady? This conspiracy."
"I see it as wholly evil," the old woman said. "And moreover, highest treason. Men should hang for this."
Heriot tried to swallow a sigh of relief. "Then… then you will yield up the boy to none? Until the King commands it, in writing?"
"None-the Queen, or other." The Countess hesitated. "Save for my son, to be sure. My Lord of Mar. He is the Prince's lawful guardian, no' myself. I but hold the laddie and castle in his name."
Heriot's intaken breath this time was scarcely of relief. "The Earl's loyalty… is not in doubt," he got out. "I thank you for the expression o' confidence, goldsmith!"
"I but meant, ladyship, that the Prince therefore is in no true danger. Since only the King and the Earl can win into this great fortress without breaking the walls down with cannon. Which even the Master of Gray, I think would scarce contemplate." "That popinjay!"
"He is no popinjay, Countess-but the most dangerous man in two kingdoms. Not to be underestimated." He paused, and considered the other speculatively. "See you, Countess-here is a thought. The Queen's main desire, I know, is to be with her firstborn, the Prince Henry. She pines for him. This castle is a royal palace. She has as much right to be here as at Linlithgow or Holy-roodhouse. I know that you do not greatly love her, nor she you. But if she was here, biding in this castle with the Prince, she would be better and the King's cause nothing weakened."
"Have her here I Under my feet 1 That that…" Looking at the Primrose girl, Lady Mar all but choked. "No, sir!" she croaked.
"Could you deny her? If she asked. You will not deny that this is a royal castle-not an Erskine one? You but keep it for the Crown. If the Queen were to demand to stay in one of her husband's houses-as distinct from you yielding up the Prince-could you refuse?"
"Share the same house wi' me? God's death, young man-hae you taken leave o' your wits?"
"That was not my question, Countess. Could you deny admission?"
The other gulped in her scrawny throat. "I'll answer that, goldsmith, when I see Anne o' Holstein come chapping at my door seeking lodging! No' before." 'That means you would, and must, admit her, I think." "She'd never come."
"Perhaps not But it would solve some problems. And the King would be relieved, I swear, to have both wife and son-and possibly the other bairns also-under the eye of one whom he can trust absolutely. Yourself."
"Do not seek to cozen me with such syrup, man. I'm ower auld for that!"
"It would also save His Grace the cost of keeping another palace open. Linlithgow. For the lying-in. And he might prefer to have his fourth child borne in his major Scots citadel."
At these shrewd thrusts the other glowered. Then adruptly she rose to her feet, small but imperious. "We have other matters to attend to, goldsmith. You shall be conducted to your horses."
'To be sure. We thank you for your courtesy of this meeting. But-would it be possible for us to see the Prince? For but a moment. That we may inform his royal mother as to how he seemed." "The laddie's well. Nothing wrong wi' him."
"We do not doubt that you cherish him well, Countess. But no harm in seeing him. To reassure Her Grace."
Muttering something, the old woman stalked stiffly to the door and out. Exchanging glances, the visitors followed.
They did not have far to go. At only the third doorway along the vaulted corridor the Countess turned in, and there was a nine year-old boy sitting at a table with a young man, at books and papers. The Prince was tall for his age, well-formed and good-looking, delicately featured and mtelhgent-seeming. Getting down, from his chair he ran to the old woman, remembered his manners sufficiently to halt and bow gravely to the two strangers, and then went to take the Countess's hand.
"Here is Master Heriot, the King your father's jeweller, Henry," she said. "And one o' the Queen's ladies." There was something of a sniff about that. "Make your duties to them, lad."
"A good day to you, sir. A good day to you, Mistress. I hope that I see you well." And, in a different voice: "Master Andrew says that my Latin is better today."
"Aye, that'll please your royal father, lad. Master Heriot left him but a day or two agone." "My royal father is well, sir?"
"Indeed yes, Highness. He sent you his affectionate greetings." That was not precisely a fact, but would bear saying.
"Your royal mother the Queen also sends her fond greetings," Alison Primrose added.
‘I thank you, Mistress. And my royal mother. Is she also well?" He still clutched the Countess's hand. "Well, Highness. And… and not far away."
"I do not like Latin much. But Master Andrew says that it is important" "Yes. The King is a great Latin scholar."
"Greek also, sir. And French. And Spanish. Hebrew also. But… he does not know Danish, I think." "H'rr'mm. Perhaps not…" "Back to your lessons, then, lad." Annabel of Mar gave him a little pat on the head before pushing him gently towards the table. The visitors bowed themselves out
"I thank you, Countess, for your help," Heriot asknowledged. "He is a fine lad. His parents have reason to be proud of him, I think. We shall tell the Queen how well he does." "And how content he is? " "Well-that he does not pine, at least. Also that he is safe here. And will in nowise be given up. To any." "By me. So long as I command here." "You mean…?"
"I told you, young man I am but my son's deputy. He is the Prince's keeper, not myself. Remember it."
George Heriot opened his mouth to speak-and then thought better of it.
They took their leave of the old lady rather less stiffly than when they had greeted each other.
That evening, George Heriot sought to convince the Queen that it was to her advantage to swallow her pride and go to be with her son at Stirling, assured that Lady Mar could not refuse her, however reluctant she might be. Anne maintained a posture of outrage and shock at the very suggestion. Alison Primrose came to announce that Master Heriot's groom had just ridden in from Edinburgh, and brought this letter.
The man took the paper, and seeking the Queen's permission to scan it, opened the sealed folds. It was only a brief note, obviously hastily penned. "Have just overheard the Master of Gray telling the Lord Sinclair that E. of Mar has left King and on his way back to Scotland. This may be important. M.G." "So-o-o!" Heriot breathed out. "Is it news?" Anne demanded. "Ill news? What it is?"
"I cannot think it good news, Highness. The Earl of Mar is on his way back to Scotland." He caught the Primrose girl's eye.
"A coarse oaf of a man 1 Scotland was sweeter without him! But does it concern us?"
"I think it may. The Countess his mother was at pains to inform us that he was the Prince's lawful guardian, not she. He, the Keeper of Stirling Castle. She gave no assurance that the Earl would not deliver up the Prince. And Mary Gray, when she told me of this plot, believed that the Earl might be in it. Such was the rumour she had heard. It seemed unlikely, with Mar in England with the King. But now…!"
'The King may be sending him. As he sent you," Lady Huntly suggested. "For some reason of his own." "Our letters cannot have reached him yet?" the Queen asked. "No, Highness. It cannot be that"
"Mar comes to destroy m I know it He has hated me from the first. Ah, God-have mercy upon me!" Anne cried, and burst into tears.
Troubled, the man sought to soothe and console her, but with no avail. The Queen's women hustled him out of the bedchamber. She had been weeping like this for most of the day, fretting herself into a fever, hysterics. It was that Countess of Mar's fault, insulting Her Grace. In the night, Queen Anne miscarried for the second time.