IN THE WEEKS and months that followed, the Edinburgh goldsmith's reckoning of the dynastic situation was very largely substantiated. James Stewart, whatever his outrageous behaviour and apparent headstrong bungling, nevertheless was always one step ahead of the forces which would use him, control him, or even unseat him-for there always had been a faction against his accession to Elizabeth's crown who would have put his cousin, the Lady Arabella Stewart, on the throne. Arabella was the only child of the late Charles Stewart, Earl of Lennox, brother of Darnley, James's father. Her line of succession to the English throne therefore was of the same order as his own, in that they were both great-grand-children of Margaret Tudor, Henry the Eighth's sister, married to James the Fourth of Scots-save that James was a great-grandson on both his mother and father's sides. But this disadvantage was outweighed, for many in England, by the fact that Arabella was wholly English by birth, residence and outlook, her mother a Cavendish. A month or two of James on the throne had the effect of much reviving and strengthening the Arabella faction.
But the King somehow managed to keep the many groups and factions isolated, to prevent them from coalescing against him. And especially from gravitating towards Arabella. This was no mean feat, for certain conditions did tend to bring the hostile groupings together-in especial the Scots presence. This, in fact, had quickly grown to be one of James's greatest problems. For apart from all those who had come south with the King's, and then the Queen's, trains-these mainly aristocracy-a constant tide of Scots, from the highest to the lowest, thereafter flooded over the Border, all with the same objective of making their fortunes, getting their own back for centuries of English invasion and warfare, and generally demonstrating their undoubted superiority in almost everything-except the superior manner, in which of course the English led the world. Not only so, but they expected their own King Jamie to co-operate and see that good Scots got most of the worthwhile appointments and positions of profit and honour in this newly-united kingdom-profit especially -and at first the King was inclined to concur. Not unnaturally the English, though an easy-going and tolerant people, began to seethe and then to rise in wrath. The Scots soon became a hissing and a booing. Popular songs were composed and sung against them in every inn and market-place; clergy preached on the plague the Lord had sent upon their devoted land; play-actors parodied the Scots accents; lampooners did a roaring trade. There were actually riots and public disturbances. A more unifying factor for the English family and political factions would have been hard to conceive. And, of course, some of it all rubbed off on James himself, 'the Scotch monkey', and his personal popularity.
Oddly enough, the other plague helped the King in his peculiar battle, in that it kept him and his Court out of London, hot-bed of more troubles than one; had the effect of preventing large gatherings of people and gave him a good excuse for refusing to call a parliament, which might have served as a fulcrum for discontent-James had a typical Stewart dislike for parliaments, much preferring personal rule. Democracy he conceived to be the rule of the Devil-and moreover he could prove it in reason, logic, metaphysics and Holy Writ
So he survived the first difficult months, even if not all of his Scots compatriots did. But in his personal relationship with the Queen, success was less obvious. In public they preserved a decent facade of conjugality and toleration, but in private they went their own ways. Anne it was, undoubtedly, who maintained the cold front-for whatever else he was, James was not cold, no chilly disapprover or distance-keeper. But the Queen, though gay, laughter-loving, flighty almost and spreading her wings widely in this warmer, richer, southern ambience, was inflexible as far as James her husband was concerned. He was good at forgiving; she was not.
The Court was split into two distinct households, with little in common; the one concerned with music, dancing, masques, gossip, match-making; and the other with hunting, gambling, drinking and rudery, shot through with political manoeuvring. The two subsisting under the same roof, as it were, led to many a curious and tense situation.
The coronation, with all its mystic and spiritual connotations and concepts might have been a unifying factor-for Anne was at least superficially of a religious nature and tended towards the sacerdotal. But the plague contra-indicated any full and major ceremony in Westminster Abbey-which the English were united in declaring was the only conceivable venue-and only a very brief, truncated and elementary service was held there eventually, attended by a small number of selected witnesses and no contact with the infectious populace, on 25th July. Moreover, the levity with which James treated the entire proceedings further offended the Queen-and not only the Queen-he pointing out that he had been crowned monarch already, thirty-six years before, at the age of one year, and this was merely a homologation. There was actually a scene in the Abbey when his newest favourite, Philip Herbert, responded to one of the King's little kindnesses by kissing him lasciviously before all-to James's chuckles, but the scandal of some.
Thirty thousand Londoners had died of the plague, and were still dying at the rate of one hundred a day. The royal palaces were all either in or too near London for comfort, and there had been an outbreak of the plague in Windsor town. So a prolonged tour of the great country houses of the nobility was indicated-especially those where hunting facilities were available on a major scale, with well-stocked deer-parks-an economical arrangement moreover, where the cost of maintaining the two royal establishments fell upon other than James's purse. A start was made at Loseley Park; then Farnham Castle, seat of the Bishop of Winchester; then Thruxton, and on to Wilton in Wiltshire. Wilton was the Earl of Pembroke's palatial seat, where as well as the delights of the chase on Salisbury Plain there was the pleasurable company of the aforementioned Philip Herbert, who was Pembroke's younger brother.
This touring programme had an advantage for George Heriot, allowing him release from Court attendance for a spell, since numbers had to be reduced considerably. Moreover the King's "new ploy", which he had expounded to his goldsmith and banker, required the latter's sojourn in London for some time-it being nothing less ambitious than the compulsory summoning to receive knighthood of every land-holder in England with rental of over forty pounds Sterling; at a price, naturally, and if for any reason this royal honour should be declined, it could be compounded for at a still higher fee. James had concocted this splendid scheme during one of his marathon drinking sessions, using the old feudal-system theory of a knight's fee, whereby all land-holders had to provide armed men for national defence as a condition of the tenure of their lands, the standard being a minimum of one knightly horseman in armour plus a certain number of armed retainers on foot. This military tenure, of course, gave no actual title of knighthood to the land-owner, but James saw how the English love of titles could be utilised thereby, to his own infinite profit. An enormous amount of clerical work would be involved, naturally, in tracing and listing all such land-owners, the country over, assessing their potentialities and sending out the summonses. Geordie Heriot was just the man to supervise this counting-house labour which had to be carried out in London where the English national land-records were stored.
James saw millions of pounds just around the corner. And he was going to need it-for he had discovered that the Exchequer was four hundred thousand pounds in debt over Elizabeth's last Irish campaign alone. And that was but a drop in the horse-trough.
So Heriot at last won free of attendance at Court, to devote at least some of his time to his own affairs. He was not afraid of the plague as was his royal master and set up business premises, with a modest house above, at the New Exchange, on the Cornhill near Threadneedle Street, a convenient area for his trade. Here he installed craftsmen and clerks to deal with both the jewellery and money-lending branches of his vocation-and was happy to busy himself in the work for which he was trained. There was a vast backlog of arrears to clear up, as well as rich new ground to be broken. Clearly, in time, he could teach the London money-market a thing or two. Not that he enjoyed London as a city; it was too large, stuffy after the sea-breezes of Edinburgh, with no views and prospects, so that a man felt suffocated in the unending narrow streets and lanes. And it stank to highest heaven. But there was money here, to make Edinburgh's a mere pittance. The King's knighthood business was a nuisance but, worked on a commission basis, was like to prove very lucrative.
This was the situation when, one day in mid-October, George Heriot was pacing up and down the central aisle of St. Paul's Church above Ludgate Hill-for much of London's business was in fact conducted here, as a highly convenient and central venue, and moreover, free. Suddenly he halted in his walking, excused himself to Master William Herrick, goldsmith to the late Queen, with whom he was in process of fixing up a working agreement, and hurried through the press of pacers, arguers and bargainers to where he had glimpsed a young and richly-dressed individual, solitary as a peacock amongst a flock of more sober barn-door fowl, and looking somewhat lost
"My lord Duke-Vicky!"he exclaimed, holding out both hands. Here is unexpected pleasure, on my soul! What brings so exalted a figure to St. Paul's this autumn day?"
"You do, Geordie. I called at your house in the Exchange, to be told you were here. It seemed an odd time for your devotions!" He shrugged, grinning his boyish smile. "It is good to see you, man. Dammit. I've missed you! Aye and not only myself."
"You are too kind. But I am no courtier, do not belong to your world. Where have you come from? Do not say that King and Court have come to London at last!"
"No, no. Despite being Christ's Vice-Regent, James Stewart is far too frightened of the wrath of God, in the form of this plague! Besides, he's very happy where he is. At Wilton. I've come from there with messages for you."
"For me? From the King? Do not say that Majesty sends the Duke of Lennox with messages for his goldsmith 1"
"One from the King, yes. One from my… one from Mary Gray. From Scotland." "Ah. Come-where we may talk privily. Yonder side-chapel."
"I do not know that my tidings is talk for church and chapels! But, as you will…"
'"This is England, where they worship a more accommodating God than ours, I think! Your news from Scotland is good?"
"Not very. But first the King's message. It is about some great jewel which he has ordered, some toy. He would have you bring it to Wilton to him, and at the earliest. Claims that you should have had sufficiently long to finish it Wants it to hang on a double gold chain. He requires it three days from now, no more. You know how he talks."
"Yes. It is a great pendant of St. George and the Dragon. The Garter badge. In enamels. Set with diamonds and sapphires. A costly trinket. I judge it must be for the Queen. A peace-offering, perhaps."
"It may be-I know not. But he is urgent for it I am to take you back with me to Wilton. James would talk with you on other matters also. This folly of the knightings, I expect." Heriot frowned. "I have so much to do, here. Work-it ever increases…" – "I need you at Wilton also, Geordie. I need help. Mary writes from Methven. She has wind of more trouble. A plot…" "Save us-not another!" "Yes. And this one even more grevious. For the King's very life is threatened, she thinks. She said to tell you, and seek your aid." "It is here, in England, then?" 'Yes. Though her father is, of course, involved in it, this must be based where the King is. It is, she says, a Catholic conspiracy to kill James and place Arabella Stewart on the throne."
"Arabella, But… there has been talk of that for long. Ever since Elizabeth died."
"Yes, talk But this is more than talk There are very powerful folk behind it, she says. And not only Catholics." "And what has the Master of Gray to do with it?"
"That is not clear to me. Mary's letter says only that Patrick insists that Henry and young Elizabeth are not to be harmed. Nor the Queen. And they are to be sent back to Scotland. No doubt for Henry to be proclaimed King of Scots. The old story, with a new turn to it" "Does she name any names? Here in England?"
"Aye, three. Our friend the Lord Grey de Wilton, Cobham, the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and, of all folks, Sir Walter Raleigh!"
"Ph-e-ew! Raleigh! I scarce can believe that Not a man of Raleigh's stature. He has not cause to love James, no doubt-who has deprived him of the Captaincy of the Guard, But that is because he advocates war with Spain-it is a madness with the man. But James still allows him to be Governor of Jersey. Cobham is his cousin-but I would have thought that they had little in common. As for Grey de Wilton, he is a Puritan, no Catholic…"
"You have not been long, Geordie, in learning what’s what, as our leige would say, about the English nobility "
"My trade demands that sort of knowledge, my lord Duke I Did the letter say aught else?"
"It named one other-Markham. Sir Gervase, I think was the name. I have not heard of him. That, and to watch Mar again." "So-o-o! And what am I to do?"
"The good God knows! She said just to tell Geordie Heriot-he would help."
Exasperatedly the man stared at his younger and so trusting friend, and sighed. He transferred his gaze to the lofty windows of stained glass. "Myself, I do not know how to begin," Lennox admitted. "Have you told the King?"
"Not yet. You know what James is-frightened of his own shadow, yet laughing to scorn anything J tell him! We'd need more to show him than another letter from my Mary "
Heriot admitted that. But he did not want to get involved in another thankless exercise in dynastic counter-plottery.
"There is another who looks for your return to Court, Geordie," the Duke went on. "Mistress Primrose. She told me to tell you that Court was a different place, lacking you. That's a lively piece, on my soul! And don't these English know it! They are round her like flies. Some young lord will snap her up."
"I hope not." The other frowned. "She is little more than a child."
"No child that, but a very knowing young woman. And as bonny as she is bright Besides, was not Anne, her mistress, wed at fifteen? Myself I was but sixteen. Staveley has just wed a fourteen-year-old. The girl has a fondness for you, all know."
"As an older man. An uncle, perhaps. I am old enough to be her father. Nor, nor am I looking for a wife."
"I but gave you her message. She has the sharpest wits in the Queen's household."
"That I believe-since Mary Gray placed her there. Very well, Vicky-I shall come back with you to Wilton. I must, if the King commands it. For a few days only. But I have affairs to settle here, first…" "We ride tomorrow, then…"
Wilton House, some three miles west of Salisbury, was an experience for George Heriot-indeed, until six months previously, even for James Stewart. Built on the site of a one-time Saxon nunnery, it was not like most of the seats of the new Tudor aristocracy basically conventual buildings, abbeys, priories and the like, taken over from the Church at the Reformation and handed over by Henry the Eighth to his friends and servants. The Herberts had been at Wilton for centuries, and their rambling establishment had grown over the years into what was practically a town of its own, set in an enormous park on the southern skirts of Salisbury Plain. In an atmosphere of vast wealth, almost total security and at least local peace, the need for defence-which cooped up even the greatest Scots lord in strong stone towers- just did not apply; and every whim of the occupying generations had been met and. exploited. Seven hundred servants-not men-at-arms-serviced this mighty sprawling domain; and Pembroke himself frequently became lost in his house's labyrinths. Wilton had three great halls as well as eight dining-rooms-apart from the servants' eating-places; three chapels-and five chaplains, four bakeries; a brewery; two theatres, one indoors, one out; an ape-house, a bull-ring, a bear-pit and half-a-dozen cock-fighting-yards. It had its own race-course; a pleasure canal-system, with ornamental lakes, temples and grottoes; and its gardens covered scores of acres. The inner park had a wall twelve miles round; and the outer, stocked with game, extended over whole parishes and included many estate villages. To Wilton frequently came Ben Jonson and Thomas Campion, with their masquers; also William Shakespeare and his Lord Chamberlain's players-Pembroke being Chamberlain. Here Philip Sidney had written much of his Arcadia, and Francis Bacon was a frequent visitor.
That all this should be the private establishment of one of his subjects, gave King James much food for thought, more especially in the present state of the national exchequer. George Heriot's reactions were no less assessing, if less predatory.
When Lennox and he arrived, it transpired that the King had been away buck-hunting for hours; while the Queen was off hawking over the heronries of the Avon. Heriot had a room allotted to him in what appeared to be a stable-wing-but found no cause for complaint.
It was there that Alison Primrose came to him, presently, all cheer and welcome. "Duke Vicky told me that you were come," she cried, running up to take his hand. "I am glad, glad."
Although the man had well warned himself that he must watch his step very carefully with this child, that he was in danger of making a fool and spectacle of himself over a slip of a girl much less than half his own age-and worse, possibly damage her good name, precious even in this licentious Court-it was difficult not to respond frankly and in kind to her uninhibited greeting. Especally when he could by no means deny his fondness for the lassie, and would not hurt her for all the wealth of Wilton. He gripped her arms more strongly than he knew-and found nothing to say, by design or otherwise.
"You are so solid a person, Master Geordie! Not like most of those I see-not like any of them, to be sure. Even the Duke."
Strangely, despite all his wise resolutions, the man was distinctly cast down at this description of himself as solid. Was that what he seemed to this lightsome bairn-solid, dull, a stodgy old man? No danger to any young woman! He cleared his throat.
"Solidity comes with age-like other things 1" he said, a trifle stiffly. "It must be my years weighing me down." "How old are you?" she asked, matter-of-fact, interested. "Forty at my next birthday, child!"
"You are older than the King?" She gazed at him, big-eyed. 'The King is but newly thirty-seven-the Queen says so. And he looks an old man. How strange."
He frowned darkly. "My great age is unfortunate-but need not concern you!" he declared, sourly for George Heriot. "I hope to live for a few years yet!"
She burst into her ready laughter. "Poor, aged Master Geordie 1 You only look old when you frown! So frown no more on Alison Primrose-who disbelieves in years anyway." "You do? How is that, pray? "
'Tears, I think, have little do to with age. The King, I swear, was born old. As was my father-aged by the time he was thirty. While the Queen now, although nearly thirty, is still a child-younger than I am, in truth! As is the Duke. Ageing is something of the spirit, not of years."
"Indeed." Warily the man eyed this surprising juvenile. "I think that you are possibly right But… where does that leave me, child?"
"Old enough to know better than to name me child" she answered him swiftly.
'M'mm. In such case, girl, the sooner we are out from this bedchamber, the better for your name and reputation," he said grimly. 'There will be plenty here to watch and whisper, I have no doubt"
"To be sure," she acceded. "Not that I care-since reputations here are the other way quite! Only those who do not bed with men are talked about! Conceived to be in some way incomplete, scarce true women. But, come-I will take and show you the water-gardens. They are quite wonderful. And all can dally there, for all others to view"
Shaken, he opened the door for her. Cheerfully, companionably, she took his arm and led him off, through the maze of corridors and courtyards.
It was a golden October afternoon, with white strutting doves croodling on every roof and arbour, and a faint mellow haze over all. Through the formal Italian gardens, where elegant groups strolled and flirted amidst highly erotic statuary, they came down a terrace to the lower, sunken water-gardens amongst the canals and ponds, where ornamental water-fowl quacked and squattered, and tall reeds, drooping willows and cunningly contrived bowers offered Eros a more active playground for those a stage further than flirtation. Nearly every neuk and corner seemed to be filled with busy couples, at most of which Alison glanced with every appearance of interest-until the man demanded to know whether she had brought him here with the express purpose of displaying this prolonged peep-show.
"Why, yes-in part," she admitted frankly. "That you might perceive what reputations mean at this Court And likewise age! For you will see grey hairs a-plenty in these bushes, I vow, if you but look. But mainly I came here to row out to one of these many islets. In the lochans. There are gondolas. Where we may talk without fear of being overheard, Master Geordie-of this of the Lady Arabella."
"Eh…?. You know of this, then? This new plot?"
"To be sure. Duke Vicky told me of Mistress Mary's letter. We are here to watch over the Queen, you know." This was in the nature of a mild rebuke. "And there are few places, and times, in this Wilton, where one may talk safely." "I see. The Duke did not tell me that he had confided in you."
"But he does, frequently. Mistress Mary sends me many messages. And I her. But through Duke Vicky-since it would look strange, would it not, for such as Alison Primrose to receive many letters from Scotland?"
"So. You act the spy then, for Mary Gray, in Queen Anne's household! That is the truth of it?"
"Yes," she agreed simply. "But-less loud, if you please I All ears here may not be deafened by houghmagandie!" He swallowed audibly.
There were many gaily-painted gondolas moored by the waterside paths. Picking one, Alison hitched her skirts high, and stepped in. "My lord of Pembroke is very thoughtful," she remarked. "See-there are kerchiefs here stowed. Cushions. A little wine-flagon in each boat. Sweetmeats. Also towels-most useful. And fishing-lines. There are fish of all sorts and colours. Do you wish to fish?" "Thank you, no," he said, getting in and taking up the oars.
Alison steered them out to one of the willow-grown islets, where the stones of a moss-grown temple showed through the trees. A tiny inlet screened by weeping branches led in-and as the gondola nosed into this, the girl in the stern opened her mouth, clapped a hand over it, and pointed with the other hand past Heriot’s person. He turned, and looked over his shoulder.
Another gondola was already in possession of the inlet. And on the shallow floor of it two large white thighs and bent pink knees were upraised, with a leaner bare bottom vigorous between. Heriot reversed his strokes, and backed out quickly.
Pink also, but with suppressed laughter and far from repressed delight, Alison managed to contain her mirth until they were out into the open water again.
"Lady Carey!" she gurgled. 'The superior and pious Lady Carey! Dotes on Jesuit priests. Confession every morning. Her husband out hunting with the King. A plague on it that I could not see from, from-well, who the man was!"
"I should say not!" Heriot reproved. "You are a shameless, er, young woman!"
"Shameless? What have I to be ashamed of? Any shame, surely, is the Lady Carey's."
"I do not see how you can be so certain that it was the Lady Carey. I certainly… er, h'mm…"
Joyous laughter. "Could you not, Master George! But then, perhaps, you suffer under certain disadvantages? Women have their own certainties." He had the sense not to debate that
The next islet they came to, they were more wary. But a circuit revealed no other boat They landed, and moved up to a lichened stone bench beside a marble satyr and a full-breasted nymph.
"Wilton is clearly a place for virile folk," the man commented, sitting. "Are you satisfied with our secrecy, Alison?"
"That is the first time that you have called me only by my given name!" She said. "Is it? I had not realised it!" "So I may call you Geordie? Without the Master?"
"Sakes-you could have called me that from the day we met, girl. Most others do." "But I am so young, you see. Little better than a child!"
"Have mercy, lassie! You have proved your point, I swear!" He took her hand, opened it, and pressed a kiss therein. "This is a woman's hand." He leaned over, and lightly brushed her parted lips with his own. "And that is a woman's mouth. From this on, you are a woman to me, Alison Primrose, I promise you."
She took a deep breath, and sat for long moments unspeaking, staring straight ahead of her. Then she turned to smile at him, warmly, glowingly, put her hand back in his, and so sat Not a little moved, the man was as silent as she.
At length he spoke, evenly. "About the Lady Arabella? You have something to tell me?" She sighed a little. 'Yes. She is coming here."
"Here? To Wilton? Surely not The King has kept her from Court. As did Elizabeth. And now-this plot!"
"I heard the Countess of Kildare tell the Countess of Bedford. And she is a Howard and knows all that goes on. Lady Kildare. Although she is not truly Countess of Kildare any more, since she is secretly wed to the Lord Cobham.. "
"She is? Cobham? He-that is one of those named. In the letter."
"Yes. With Sir Walter Raleigh, who is his cousin. And the Lord Grey de Wilton. Cobham and Grey are here also. But not Raleigh."
"No. He has offended the King. By declaring that there could be no peace with Spain. And declaring that the Scots succoured Philip's Armada in '88. As indeed we did, to some measure. But… you say that Lady Cobham, who was Lady Kildare, and before that Frances Howard, daughter of the Lord Admiral, says that Arabella Stewart is coming to Wilton? When?" "That was not said. But I took it as very soon." "She would not dare to come without the King's knowledge."
"Of that I know not. But it seems strange. To be coming now. When there is this of a plot. But-there is something else. Yesterday, Lord Cobham's brother, George Brooke, came here. And with him he brought another gentleman, by name of Markham. Sir Gervase Markham. And Markham was the fourth name written in Mistress Mary's letter. He is a great Catholic, they say. And he has already been to see the Marchioness Hetty of Huntly."
"So-o-o. It looks, then, as though the vultures gather. But-I do not understand this of the Lady Kildare, or Cobham, knowing of Arabella coming-if coming she is. And telling Lady Bedford. The Howards and the Russells are linked with the Cecils-the ruling faction, and very much against the Catholics. Here is something strange indeed. If they know of it all…"
"They may not know of the plot Only of the Lady Arabella's coming to Court. Perhaps… perhaps they it was who gained her summons?" "For what purpose?"
"I have no notion. But the Lord Admiral, and Secretary Cecil, so close to the King, might have their own reasons. For a change of policy, with regard to Arabella."
He frowned. "She was kept all but a prisoner, during Queen Elizabeth's later years. As a possible claimant of Elizabeth's throne. That was the Cecils' policy then. Why should they change itnow…?" They could between them produce no answer to these questions; and presently Alison said that she ought to go back to the Queen's quarters, to prepare for the royal return from hawking. For there was to be a great masque that night, in which the Queen was herself taking part-as indeed was she. Alison-and there would be much to do with costumes and dressing. They rowed ashore. "I shall see you at the masque-or after it," the girl said. "Not before? When we eat?"
"No. The King's and Queen's households are now almost wholly separate. They no longer eat together. Only when there is some especial banquet But-you could choose to belong to the Queen's household, Geordie, could you not? You were her royal jeweller, before you were the King's."
"True. But I am here on the King's summons. I fear that I must grace his table, however lowly the place."
James's hunting-party came straggling in in the late afternoon, after having been in the saddle since sunrise, a weary, dusty, dishevelled crew, fine hunting greens soiled. Heriot watched from his stable-wing window-and marvelled anew at his sovereign lord. For the King, slumped like a sack of chaff in his saddle-oddly, always he rode like that, despite being one of the best horsemen in two kingdoms-seemed to be almost the freshest there. The man who wearied after hobbling a hundred yards, who grew impatient with any ceremony lasting longer than ten minutes, who was terrified of loud noises, violent action and the sight of human blood, would spend twelve hours in strenuous hunting, slay game by the score, even on occasion gleefully gralloch his own deer in a slaister of blood and guts, and return in highest spirits. Today a long string of sumpter-horses, each bearing a head-dangling buck, seemed to ensure that the King would be in excellent mood.
A thoughtful host further improved the occasion by announcing that the royal repast would be served alfresco and out-of-doors, or at least under a tented canopy as to the King's own table, at the circular banking of the open-air bear-pit, where a great bear-baiting would take place throughout the meal, an especial performance with a notably fierce bear kept starved for the purpose, and some of the stoutest-hearted dogs in England-all arranged by his brother Philip, who was an expert in all such matters. James was graciously pleased to express entire appreciation.
Philip Herbert was, apparently, not just good-looking but an asset to any Court.
And so, to a strong and musky smell of live bear, sawdust and long-spilled blood, the great company of the King's household and Pembroke's guests sat down to laden trestle-tables set up on the grass terracing around the central pit, and were piled with victuals hot and cold, fish, from congers to creatures so rare that they had been brought in ice from Russia; poultry, from peacocks and swans to godwits and cocks' combs; meats, from Polonian sausage to venison seethed in wine; in all, two dozen dishes, all served on silver-gilt plate by an army of liveried attendants.
' George Heriot found an inconspicuous place for himself as far as he decently could get from the sanded floor of the arena. A large and shaggy brown bear, lean to the point of gauntness, was led in, shackled by one leg, grunting and growling and chained to a central post. Then Philip Herbert took charge of the proceedings.
He was rather different from the general run of James's favourites, tall, well-built and muscled, handsome but not in the least effeminate-seeming. He wore a thin, down-turning scimitar of moustache and no beard, and with it an arrogant, hot-tempered manner. He lived for horses, dogs, sport and gambling, and it was bis expertise as a huntsman which had first drawn the King to him. Whether he satisfied James in other respects seemed open to doubt, but the monarch meantime would find little fault in him.
He had a hunting-horn sounded for silence, and then, in ringing tones, announced that he was prepared to wager one hundred pounds that his black mastiff Diablo would outlast any other dog soever against this fine Muscovy bear. What takers?
There was no lack of these. Many lordlings shouted the claims of their animals; but Herbert declared that only three other dogs should be engaged at one time, as a sporting proposition. The others' turn would come.
And so a large mastiff, two terriers and a wicked, slinking grey lurcher cross were brought and let loose in the arena, to a low rumbling from the chained bear. The dogs, all trained for this activity, had their own methods. The big mastiff sat down at once on all fours, and then began to inch forward thus, slowly, with infinite menace; the two terriers went yapping into the attack, without a preamble, leaping and dancing as though on springs; while the lurcher loped and circled, teeth bared. There were great shouts of enthusiasm and advice from the high-born diners. The bear, up on its hand legs, weaved its tall shaggy body to and fro gently, but otherwise appeared to pay little heed.
Like lightning the lurcher suddenly made a vicious bound for the throat-and the click of its teeth meeting sounded across the arena, short of the bear's fur by barely an inch when, scarcely to be discerned, the brute flicked head and shoulders a mere fraction sideways. As incredibly swiftly, a great claw-armed paw lashed out, and a long scarlet score appeared down the lurcher's side. The yell of the watchers drowned the animal's scream.
Like a missile from a catapult the mastiff sprang direct from its crouching position, just as a terrier nipped in low. The bear stooped to cuff with its other paw and was hit at the shoulder, as by a bolt, by the heavy larger dog, staggering to the impact. The terrier was tossed into the air, yelping high, but the mastiff sank its teeth in just behind the bear's shoulder.
Roaring with pain, the bear tried to throw off the big dog. But it was too far round for the lethal claws to reach. Then it tried to shake off its attacker, but the teeth were clenched firm in the flesh. The lurcher, despite all, leapt in again to the now unprotected belly-and with a snarl the bear dropped on all fours, then crushed down with all its great weight All heard the life go out of the slender dog with a choked-off howl.
With great swiftness for its bulk, and the entangling tendency of its chain, the bear rolled over on its back The mastiff had to fling itself clear or be crushed in turn. As it leapt away, a single three-inch claw ripped a rent in its black flank.
Then the barking terriers were in like shrill small furies. The bear flicked one off in red ruin, as it would a fly; but the other clung, worrying at the throat
Wagers were now being shouted all over the enclosure, women's voices upraised as well as men's. As the bear, seeking to dislodge the terrier, rolled over again to get up on his hind legs, the mastiff bored in low. And the long, barbed hind foot that was not hampered by the chain, scooped up, and gutted the big dog as cleanly as a gralloch, coming away in a tangle of smoking entrails and skin. The mastiff hung there kicking, but did not unclench its teeth.
"You've lost your siller, Philip-you've lost your siller!" the King cried. "Man-you're dog's deid! But, never heed, laddie- I'll make it up to you. I will so."
"Dammit-the brute's not dead yet!" Herbert denied. "It's hanging on. Another fifty pounds, Staveley-to outlive your terrier!" "Done, shrive me!"
The bear dropped on all fours once more and shook himself mightly. The terrier was almost, but not quite detached, flung half round. And there a great forepaw flashed over and caught its hind-quarters, all but tearing them off in bloody collops. The thin shriek bubbled to silence.
The bear stood up again to its full height, reddened paws waving gently. The disembowelled mastiff, eyes closed, jaws still clamped, jerked its hind legs feebly.
"By God, I win!" Herbert yelled. "See it! One hundred and fifty pounds you owe me, Staveley, d'you hear? A pretty sport! You spoke too soon, Majesty! Now-another three dogs, heh? I have a second brute I'll wager…"
With slow dignity the bear stooped, and with fore-paws tore the twitching mastiff bodily from itself, some of its own shaggy hide coming away with the teeth, and tossed it far, so to stand, red tongue lolling, to stare around on its tormentors.
Sickened, Heriot pushed away the plateful of beef before him, appetite gone.
The bear, sadly weakened now, with strips of its hide hanging off, was attempting to beat off its third quartet of dogs, the torn carcasses of the others strewn around it on the bloody sand, when Lennox found his way to his friend's side, to discover him drinking more deeply than usual. Glancing at the scarcely touched dishes, he grinned.
"Do not say that you find Wilton"s hospitality not to your taste, Geordie?" he commented. "Or is it this traditional English sport which palls on you?" "Say that I have a delicate stomach," the other answered briefly.
"Ah-you should have been born a nobleman, my friend. Then such pastimes would not trouble your belly! Though, I must confess, I prefer my eating… otherwise!" He shrugged. "But the sport flags somewhat, and Majesty's attention wanders. He would have a word with you." "Now?"
"Now. For a short-sighted man, James misses little. He saw you sitting alone here and sent me."
They made their way to the King's table, where James had obviously lost interest in the entertainment-and as clearly was annoyed that young Herbert had not perceived the fact He turned the more affably to the newcomers.
"Ha-Geordie Heriot!" he greeted. "Man-it's good to see your honest face. Though glowering! So you've survived yon London! The pest-does it lessen a mite?"
"Undoubtedly, Sire. With the cooler days. They believe that it will soon be gone. God grant it true."
"Amen to that-aye, Amen, Geordie. It's been a right inconvenience. Sit in, man. Join me in a goblet." James lowered his voice to a thick whisper. "You hae the toy I ordered? It's finished? I'll hae a peek at it, under this table. I dinna want them a' seeing it"
"I have it, Sire. But not here. Not on my person. It is a mite heavy to carry in a pocket And valuable! I have it in my room, locked in my kist…" "Your room, heh? Heavy? No' too heavy, man?"
"Solid gold, Sire. And all those jewels. And a double chain. Shall I go fetch it?" "Na, na. I'll come see it."
"But-Your Majesty! Not you-to my quarters! I will bring it. In but a minute or two…"
"Och, wheesht you, Geordie man-I'll come. I'd rather see it privily, ony gait Gie me my stick…"
And so, to the consternation of all, Majesty rose from the table -so that everyone else must do the same-and went tottering off on Heriot's arm, stick poking a route through, while still dogs yelped and snarled round the flagging bear. Inevitably, Lords Pembroke, Nottingham, Southampton, Mar and a number of others came hurrying after, wiping lips and greasy fingers.
"Bide where you are!" James barked round at them "When I'm needing you, I'll tell you. Aye, you too, Philip Herbert. Bide you wi' your bit dogs! But, Vicky-you'd better come."
Much embarrassed to be thus leading off the monarch before the entire Court to his humble quarters in the stable-wing, Heriot bit his lip. This sort of prominence was the last thing he sought "If Your Majesty will go to one of your own private chambers, I will bring if…"
"Hud your wheesht, man. Heh-unless you dinna want me in your room? Eh? Maybe you've got something there? A quean, belike? Och, maybe the lassie Primrose, that I'm hearing you've got a notion for? A smart one, that!"
"No, Sire-no I Nothing of that sort. Mistress Primrose is, is safe from me. We are friends. No more. She is very young…"
"Och, aye-young. But that'll mend, man. Forby, the young ones are the sweetest, eh? Dinna tell me you havena discovered that! Eh, Vicky-you'll bear that out, I've nae doubt Wi' yon Mary Gray." "As Your Majesty says…"
Past astonished servitors they came to the stable-wing and mounted the stairs. James peering interestedly into every room they passed. At his own apartment Heriot offered the only chair to the King and went to unlock the small iron-bound chest which he had chained to the bed.
"Aye, you're canny, Geordie," James nodded approvingly. "As well you might be. What else hae you got in yon wee lost? Besides my trinket?"
"Some papers to show Your Highness, anent the knighthoods. And some private items." 'Trivate, eh? No' private frae me, Geordie?" "Not if Your Majesty commands otherwise, of course."
"Aye, well. We'll see. First the jewel. The medallion. You'd ca' it a medallion, Geordie?" "Something of that ilk, Sire. A pendant, a gaud. An omature." He drew the chamois-leather-wrapped parcel out and unwrapped it.
Immediately the humdrum little room became a different place, indeed was lost, erased, in the flashing, coruscating beauty of the glittering jewel, its diamonds sparkling with a thousand lights, its sapphires glowing deeply, the shining gold a rich mirror to reflect the rays of the sinking sun, its enamels' colours brilliantly enhanced.
"Bonny! Bonny!" the King exclaimed, taking it. "Right handsome. Guidsakes-look at yon dragon! And flames o' fire I Maist delectable. See, Vicky-is it no beauteous?" "Very, Sire. And costly, I would think!" "Ooh, aye-costly? Is it gey costly, Geordie?" "I fear so, She. Inevitably. I warned Your Majesty…"
"Aye, well. Uh-huh. Maybe it will be worth the siller, man. Maybe. It's heavy, though-heavy. It's no' ower heavy? For a woman to wear, man?" "I think not. It would not be worn for long periods."
"She's no' ower robustious, mind. Och, well-we canna change it now." James wrapped the precious contrivance in its leather, and bestowed it in a capacious pocket of his over-stuffed doublet- one of the advantages of such. "Now-this o' the knights. How goes it, Geordie?"
"It is a great labour, She-and goes almost too well! The papers are all here-so far as we have got. There are seven thousand, eight hundred land-holders listed, thus far, holding lands worth forty pounds and more. And we have not yet got further north than Northamptonshire…" "Sink me! So many? A mercy-near eight thousand!"
"She-you cannot possibly think to confer the honour of knighthood on all these!" Lennox cried. "It would make a supreme mockery of the entire…"
"I'm no' thinking to confer an honour, Vicky-I'm summoning to a degree, rank and status, aye status. I'll make o' knighthood what it used to be, in this country, in a' Christendom. Knights' service to the throne, for lands held. Only, the service will be in siller instead o' armed men. Aye, I'll make a whole new order o' landed men knights-and fine they'll thank me for it! Their wives mair especially. See you, in Scotland every bit laird is ca'd by his lands-Heriothill, Dumbiedykes, Cowcaddens. Even if they're scarce mair'n a bit field or two and a doocot! Aye, and his wife's the Lady Cowcaddens, see you-a' Lady this or that And do they no' delight in it? Much mair the English, who love titles mair'n they love meat and drink-and that's plenties. Yet they hae nothing o' the like. The rich squire may hae a thousand acres o' prime land, but they are plain Maister Rich or Maister Green. And worse, their wives are only Mistress Rich and Mistress Green. Will they no' thank me for making them Sir and Lady? And pay for the privilege! As they ought" Lennox could not gainsay that logic.
"How much to pay, Geordie? Hae you worked it out? The rate."
"Not fully, She. We all conceive that the thousand pounds you sought, for every forty pound land, is too much. Many could not produce you such, without having to sell much land. We reckoned six hundred pounds for each forty pound rental." "M'mmm. And what to pay if they refuse it?"
"That is for you, Sire. We suggest a level fee of one thousand pounds." "Sweet Mercy-for refusing knighthood!" Lennox cried. "That was His Majesty's instructions."
James was clearly calculating busily; but though none could question his learning, arithmetic was not his strongest subject "It's gey hard to assess," he announced. "It depends on how many o' the eight thousand are only forty pound men. And how many above it. A wheen will hae ten times that, and man."
'True, She. But, let me say that one third were forty pounds only, another third twice that, and the remainder variously higher -say three times. Then, of this seven thousand, eight hundred you would garner in, if all paid, nearly thirteen million pounds."
"Guid God in Heaven!" Christ's Vice-Regent observed, eyes goggling.
"That is but a crude calculation," Heriot pointed out. "Nothing of that order could be relied upon. Perhaps half would be more true counting…" "Half? Even so! Och, man, man." The monarch was lost in roseate dreams. He turned to Lennox. "Vicky-d'you no' see what this means? Here's the Exchequer empty-thanks to Elizabeth's Irish and Spanish wars, and that fool Burleigh. This realm's taxaation is a' farmed out, to third, fourth and fifth collectors-who a' tak their skelb o' the cheese! A right damnable system. I canna win new taxations lacking an English parliament's leave-the insolence o' it! And even then, the siller doesna come into my hands, but the Lord Treasurer's, and him accountable to the said parliament. We do things better in Scotland! But here, man- here's a right excellent ploy, you'll no' deny? I needna ask the permission o' any-and the siller comes direct to me. It's my privilege to create knights. And, you hear-there's millions in it! Save us-it's a godsend!"
"I might call it something else, James-but you will have it your own way, no doubt."
"Aye, I will so. God be praised it's no Vicky but Jamie Stewart that sits on this throne! Aye, nor Arabella Stewart either!" Both his companions stared at him.
The King leered at them, but did not amplify. "I'll see these papers later, Geordie. Now-what else hae you got in your kist?"
"Only some money. Notes of hand.-And a few pieces of jewellery-nothing of real worth." He looked at Lennox significantly. That man nodded.
"James-you mentioned just now our cousin, Arabella," the Duke said. "Did you, h'm, do so advisedly?"
"Can I no' speak inadvisedly alone wi' you and Geordie Heriot, Vicky?" 'To be sure. But… this of Arabella. I have not heard you speak of her, for long. And to do so now, when…" "Aye-when, Vicky? When what?"
"When there is talk about her. When her name is whispered…"
"Whispers, eh? And what do they whisper about Arabella, our bit cousin? She's no' sick? Or bedding wi' some loon? Or wi' child? What's the whisper?"
Lennox looked at Heriot for help-and got little. "There is talk of a plot, She," he blurted out. "Another plot" "A plot, eh? Waesucks-no' again!" The King sighed extravagantly, in simulated weariness-but he did not sound really surprised. "Yes, Sire. This time to put Arabella on your throne." 'You say so? Then they'd need to dispose o' me first, would they no'?" "Exactly so." "And who utters siclike whispers, Vicky Stewart?"
The Duke smoothed a hand over mouth and chin. "We hear it here and there, James. From here and there."
"Aye-here and there, just. Man, you'll hae to do better than that!"
"Yet, Sire-you did name Arabella. When she's not been at Court for long."
"She's my faither's brother's daughter, is she no'? A quiet bit lassie, frae a' accounts. Am I no' to speak her name?" James got to his feet. "Plots are a right pastime for idle folk, Vicky. Now- I'll awa' back to my ain quarters. Annie's got another o' her pestilent masques, the night-she should ha' been a mummer, no' a queen. Gie's your arm, man. Half thirteen million did you say, Geordie? And you're only at Northampton? Guidsakes I"
Even the largest of the halls at Wilton was scarcely large enough to hold both Courts, plus the raised dais platform and the area roped off for the Queen's masque. In consequence, a lesser hall nearby was brought into use also, and the passageways between, festooned with evergreens and coloured lamps-a satisfactory arrangement for many, for there was no lack of rooms off betwixt, where folk who sought to provide their own entertainment could do so in approximate privacy-although privacy was by no means a prerequisite for not a few, it seemed.
James was late in arriving-which caused some upset, since even Anne could scarcely order a start on the masque before the monarch and their host appeared. When the King's train approached it was heralded through the long corridors by singing- not the sweet melody of choirs or singing boys, but the bibulous chorus of drink-taken men. A lively evening seemed to be assured. The royal dais table was well stocked with flagons, bottles, tankards and beakers, and James, himself supporting rather than leaning on the shoulder of an already reeling Philip Herbert, but in high good humour, wasted no time on preliminary courtesies, but reaching for a flagon promptly got down to the serious business of the evening. There was the usual unseemly tussle amongst the Scots and English lords as to who should share the limited space of the dais table-the Scots, being on the whole less drunk, doing best. Heriot noted that the Lords Grey de Wilton and Cobham both managed to find a place up there, and neither seemed inebriated. Lennox took up his stance carefully nearby. Heriot had had George Brooke and Sir Gervase Markham pointed out to him. They stood together in the main part of the hall, where of course the vast majority of the company waited, and Heriot moved discreetly to a position quite close behind them.
A trumpet's almost immediate and peremptory flourish intimated Anne's impatience, and Master Jonson's stage-sets and backcloths came trundling out before ever the seating of the dais table was resolved. These were highly elaborate representations of tall trees in a grove, a flower-girt pool, and the broken white pillars of a ruined temple. In the centre of all, a cunningly devised natural staircase, seemingly of mossy stone steps, led up to a yawning cave in a ferny cliff, with a shelf-like ledge at its entrance. Birds twittered in the background, and a flight of doves were released-which however preferred to fly off to the far end of the hall and there try to get out of a window.
There was loud cheering, and Lord Southampton shouted that hawks should be brought in to deal with the pigeons.
An odd figure emerged from behind a central bush, clad in wide green breeches right up to the neck, with a loose cap above pulled down over the face to meet the breeches-top, small slits left for the eyes. This curiosity announced, in a high treble, that its name was Nobody, and that its privilege was to introduce the Masque of the Goddesses, set in the Temple of Peace of the peerless Pallas Athene.
Philip Herbert, hiccuping a little, intervened with a cry that he would lay fifty pounds with all takers that the creature was male -although it might be with the testicles removed. To which the King countered that this was nonsense, for you could see two paps poking against the green if you looked right closely-not that he would wager good money on it
Some who would have hissed, or hushed for quiet at young Herbert, hastily desisted at the monarch's reaction. But another trumpet blast gained the required silence. A dark curtain was rung back from the cave mouth, and therein was to be seen a masked black lady-there was no doubt about the sex here, for she was naked to the waist and well-endowed-in the process of wakening a white and recumbent youth, and intoning in a sing-song voice: "Awake, awake, dark sleep, arouse thee from the cave!"
The oddity Nobody announced helpfully that this was Night arousing her son Somnus.
"It is Mary Harington-I'd know her breasts anywhere, black or no'!" the irrepressible Herbert declared. "And that's Tom Henniker. The first time he's lain under her, I'll be bound!" "Wheesht, Philip-here's Annie!"
To the simulation of a cock crowing, Pallas Athene emerged from behind the trees, a fine martial figure in a gilt helmet starred with jewels, a white tunic embroidered with cannon, spears and swords, representing civilised war, a glittering corslet seeded with pearls, and a short kilt-like skirt above gold-strapped calves and sandals. She bore a golden zigzag spear, as thunderbolt, and a round aegis or shield, showing the Gorgon's head and studded with red rubies. From her throat hung a long cloak-like train, also jewelled, borne up behind by a slender masked attendant in short, silver shirt-of-mail, whose legs were more shapely than any boy's -or, for that matter, the Queen's-although the clinging chain-mail outlined very frankly a fairly boyish figure. The red-gold hair peeping from under the smaller helmet, however, was undoubtedly that of Alison Primrose.
There was a loud cheer and even young Herbert forbore to comment Only James himself remarked, "Scanty! Scanty!"- although to just what he referred was not clear. Pallas Athene stalked with great dignity around the roped-off area, and then mounted the rustic steps with deliberate and regal poise-less easy for the train-bearer who could not see where she was putting her sandalled feet-to the cave-mouth shelf, where she turned to address the company: Warlike Pallas in her helmet dressed, With lance of winning, target of defence, In whom both wit and courage are expressed, To get with glory, hold with providence.
She declaimed that in something of a hurry, as though before she might forget the words, but none found any fault, and the King nodded sagely.
"Aye, well said," he commended, loudly. "Only-gain would ha' been better that get, mind. Aye, gain the glory."
Ignoring his helpful suggestion, Pallas Athene turned graciously to greet the rising Somnus and with zigzag spear banished black Night into the deepest corner of the cave. Somnus made some answering statement, but with insufficient volume to be heard. "Speak up!" resounded from various parts of the hall.
A stirring trumpet voluntary broke in, just a little on the fast side, and out from both flanks of the wings came two lively corps of goddesses, six on each side, one golden-clad, the other silver. All wore the short kilted skirts and sandals, and all were helmeted and masked. They pranced round amongst the trees, the music more or less dictating the antic pace, and came together around the pool, to sing in distinctly breathless chorus with much heaving of divine corslets. The singing was scarcely audible amidst the shouted debate of the audience as to who was who, going by shape, busts, legs and general carriage, with more wagers placed.
Master Ben Jonson had been very busy, and had written a verse or two for each goddess to recite-and voices gave away identification where other attributes failed. The first two declaimers were accepted as Lady Bedford and Lady Rich, as Vesta and Venus respectively, amongst some spirited argument as to their entire suitability for these parts, with Lady Kildare or Cobham following on. But twelve soliloquies, however refined, cannot be guaranteed to hold the fullest attention of even the most patient assembly, and long before the end the audience was contributing a deal more to the entertainment than was the cast
It was at this stage that Chief Secretary Cecil, never addicted either to entertainment or drinking, came limping through the crowd to mount the dais and whisper in the ear of the King, who nodded.
A stately dance of the goddesses brought to an end the first half of the masque, and Nobody announced an interval.
Hardly had the Queen retired from the scene when Sir Robert Cecil raised a hand, and over at the far door two of the King's tabarded trumpeters blew a prolonged and splendid fanfare. Then Yeomen of the Guard threw open the door and Garter King of Arms strode in, to announce in ringing tones, "By His Gracious Majesty's royal command-the Lady Arabella Stewart!"
There was a gasping reaction, and then a profound silence. Into the hall stepped a slight figure dressed all in virginal white. Three paces in, she halted, and sank in deepest curtsy-and remained down.
"Aye," James called, over all the heads. "Welcome, Cousin, to my Court. Come, you."
She rose, bowed again, and then commenced her long walk across the crowded floor, the four Yeomen clearing a passage for her, Garter King pacing behind.
Arabella Stewart was aged twenty-eight, with a natural dignity, pale, fair-haired but rather plain, with a firm mouth and determined chin but no especial physical attractions. She had good eyes, however-all the Stewarts had-and a serious, almost studious expression. She was as flat about the chest as a boy.
That walk across the hall, under the battery of assessing, critical, wondering eyes, must have been an ordeal for a woman who was obviously not of a bold nature. But she performed it well, head held high yet modestly, looking neither right nor left. She carried a folded and sealed letter in her hand.
It was deformed Cecil himself who came forward to hand her up the dais steps, and lead her round the table to the King, who was on his unsteady feet to receive her-as of course were all the others there, who could stand, though one or two were sprawled out witless and one was actually on the floor. She curtsied again over the hand held out for her to kiss.
"So, Cousin," James said, and leaned forward to plant a wet kiss approximately above her left eyebrow. "You've come. Ooh, aye- you're here. And looking fine and well. We are pleased to see you."
"I thank Your Majesty for your gracious summons," she answered, low-voiced, but clear. "Your very humble, grateful and entirely loyal servant." And she held out the paper in her hand. "And this, Cousin?"
"A letter. Addressed to me, Sire. And unopened. Another I received, under the same seal-and considered treasonable." There was a great in-taking of breath throughout the hall.
"Say you so?" The King peered at the seals, and then cracked them open and spread the paper on the wine-soaked table. "Ha!" he said, allowing himself time to have read only the first few words. "Here is an ill matter. Maist improper. Treasonable, as you say-right treasonable. This letter seeks for you to approach the King o' Spain, the Archdukes in the Netherlands, and the Duke o' Savoy, to assist you to become Queen in this realm, in return for tolerating the Catholic faith and making peace wi' Spain. And you no' to marry without the King o' Spain's consent. Guidsakes-and it says Sir Gervase Markham will carry your message. Aye, and it’s signed by George Brooke. That'll be him that's brother to my Lord Cobham here, Warden o' my Cinque Ports. Heh?"
There was a deathly hush throughout the great apartment, broken only by a snore or two.
James looked slowly round the great company. His strange, glowing eyes slid past where Cobham stood as though turned to stone, and Grey de Wilton beside him nibbled his lip anxiously, and on in unhurried survey. Then he spoke.
"If George Brooke and Sir Gervase Markham be in this room," he rasped, "arrest them! On charge of treason against my realm and person."
Into the stir Sir Robert Cecil raised his precise voice, to the stab of a pointing finger. "There! And there! Guard!"
The four Yeomen of the Guard, who clearly knew just what to do and who the victims were, inarched straight over to the two men named, conveniently close to them and clamped stern hands on their shoulders. They offered no resistance, made no protest, and were marched off, men and women drawing aside to give them passage-way as though they were plague-stricken.
James tossed the paper across the table to Cecil, who picked it up, and went through the process of reading it.
"This letter contains the names of others besides these," he announced thinly. 'Two Jesuit priests, to act as intermediaries. And… others of more note!" He paused, orninously. "With Your Majesty's gracious permission, this might be best enquired into hereafter."
"To be sure, Cecil, man," Majesty agreed genially. "Waesucks- is this no' meant to be an evening o' entertainment. Forby, Her Majesty will be getting right impatient again! And that'll no' do. But, before thae goddesses tak ower again, I've a bit word for the Lady Arabella, here. Aye." He turned to the young woman still standing there. "Cousin-I thank you for this notable and leal service for our weal, the realm's weal. And I'm right glad to hae you grace our Court In proof o' which I ordain you a pension o' one thousand pounds sterling each year-frae the Exchequer. Forby a diet frae our royal table-that's eighteen dishes per diem, you ken. And now, I present you wi' this token o' our cousinly affection and regard. Aye, regard." And groping in his doublet pocket, he brought out the chamois-wrapped jewel and handed it to her. Surprised and fumbling, Arabella all but dropped the substantial affair.
"Mind, woman-it's heavy 1 If s a pendant, gaud or ornature, see you."
As she gasped at the sudden revealed magnificence of the jewel, James grinned delightedly-at it, rather than at her. "It's real bonny, is it no'? And costly-gey costly." He snatched it from her again, stroked its brilliant surface lovingly for a moment, and then, almost reluctantly, leaned over and hung it round the young woman's neck, planting another slobbering kiss on her cheek. "Aye," he said, "that's it, then" And stepping back, made a shooing-away gesture with his hands.
Cecil stepped forward, touched Arabella's elbow, and bowed. Obviously bewildered at it all, this abrupt dismissal not the least she curtsied hurriedly again, and was led off, supporting the heavy trinket in both hands. James waved vaguely towards the roped-off masque enclosure and sat down heavily to reach for his tankard. His own masque over, his wife's might now recommence. Wilton's hall buzzed like a hive of bees disturbed.
The second half of the Masque of the Goddesses suffered rather from anticlimax, not unnaturally. The performers seemed hardly to have their minds on what they were doing, Pallas Athene especially. Moreover, some of the goddesses had most evidently been sustaining themselves during the interval with the divine juice of the grape and there was rather less nervousness but also less coordination, in consequence. The audience, too, had become not a little preoccupied with other things; likewise the dais table imbibings were having cumulative effect Many in the hall clearly decided that this would be a good time to be otherwhere, and, not always unobtrusively, slipped away.
Anne, with some dramatic sense, perceived that a winding-up was called for, and in the midst of a rather disconnected dialogue between Venus-who was finding it difficult to stand upright- and an even more skittish if substantial Jupiter preferring mime to recitative, possibly because his deep-set male voice unaccountably kept breaking through into the contralto, despatched her attendant to order the musicians to move on to the final dance sequence. This, after a little initial confusion, was achieved, to the relief of all; and the goddesses set themselves to prove the superiority of action over words. Led by Jupiter, a lively abandon prevailed. Not a few of the divinities began to beckon gentlemen of the audience to come and join them, particular and general.
"I say one hundred pounds on Jupiter being woman-and Alethea Talbot at that!" Philip Herbert shouted. "Taken!" Southampton replied. "I say it's the boy Cavendish." "It's young Paget…"
"Na, na-if s a woman. It's Jean Lennox. I ken her shape fine!" That was the Earl of Mar.
"We'll prove it!" Herbert yelled, and tossing his still half-full tankard over towards a corner, leapt down from the dais platform and went weaving towards the dancers. Half-a-dozen young and not-so-young bloods followed his example-although not all completed the course, equilibrium being at a premium. Pallas Athene, perceiving the way that things were going, abandoned her nominal control of the dance and made a fairly expeditious exit Herbert reached the posturing Jupiter and reached out to remove the mask. As the god put hands up to protect it the young man, with remarkable swiftness considering his state, stooped instead and grabbed the kilted white skirt-worn apparently by Olympians of both sexes-and wrenched. It came away in his hands-to reveal undoubted femininity in the shape of a major golden triangle above choice thighs.
"Jean Lennox as I said 1" Mar bellowed. "That's one hundred pounds you owe me, Herbert! Aye, and you shall hae half o' it, Jeannie." The buxom Duchess continued to dance.
After that, the situation developed rapidly and predictably. Certain ladies fled-but more remained. Southampton, having lost one bet tried to recoup himself by chasing the curious Nobody around the enclosure. Hampered by the odd garb and limited visibility, this character was fairly quickly caught, upended and more or less efficiently de-breeched-proving to be another female, to royal shouts of satisfaction from the dais.
The more prudent of the residual ladies decided to flee, squealing, and the sportive remainder accepted the progressive removal of their skirts philosophically. The musicians, not having been commanded otherwise, played on, James thumping on the table-top with his tankard.
Lennox, abandoning his self-appointed watch over the Lords Cobham and Grey de Wilton who had taken no part in these proceedings, jumped from the dais, snatched up one of the many discarded draperies and ran to wrap it forcibly round his still capering spouse. She protested vigorously, but for once her husband was concerned, and with an accession of strength he dragged her, resisting all the way, off behind the wings, and out.
George Heriot was also in some concern about Alison Primrose. Admittedly she had followed the Queen out in good time, but she might not have gone far, or might even have come back-and in the present climate of behaviour, even so self-possessed a young woman was unsafe in this part of Wilton House, chain-mail or none. He pushed through the cavorting, laughing, shrieking throng, to hurry after the Duke and Duchess of Lennox.
Chaos to music reigned behind, as James Stewart watched, smiled a little, sipped, and beat time.
Out in the long back corridor, where a mixture of dramatics, frolics and hysterics prevailed amongst players, guests and servitors, Heriot heard upraised Scots voices coming from an anteroom. He strode in at the open door to find Lennox, his wife, the Earl of Mar and Alison, the first three all very vocal. The newcomer's appearance had an effect Voices dropped somewhat, and Alison ran to his side, to take his hand.
With an obvious effort, the Duke mastered himself and spoke more quietly. "My lord of Mar-kindly return to the King's side. In this folly, he may require aid. Aye, and keep an eye on Cobham and Grey. Master Heriot and I will conduct the Duchess to her quarters." He turned to Alison. "Where is the Queen?"
"She has gone back to her own part of the house. With the Marchioness of Huntly and Margrete Vinster. And two of the Guard. She is well-but angry." "No doubt! Well, my lord?"'
Mar, redder-faced even than usual, and perspiring, bowed stiffly and left "Jean, come with us. And no more fuss, if you please.''
Jupiter, with a discarded toga wrapped round the middle and not a little drunk, was escorted to Wilton's west wing.
After handing the Duchess over to her tiring-woman, Alison adopting the toga for herself, the trio repaired to the Queen's music-room, empty now and there sat down, to look at each other, silent for the moment
"So-o-ol" Lennox said, at length. "A notable evening's entertainment! Right notable, as our lord would undoubtedly declare! A right royal occasion. What do you make of it all, Geordie?"
"Which? This drunken cantrip and what followed? Or what went before?"
'The last will be forgotten in a day or two at this Court. The other, no."
Heriot nodded. 'To me it proves once again that we have a cleverer sovereign lord than we are apt to remember."
"Aye-so think I. Clearly James knew of this plot, yet said nothing. For how long?"
"It is a full month since he ordered me to make that jewel. I believed that it was for the Queen. Now we know differently. It was made for a purpose. Only this afternoon he said that maybe it would be worth its great cost. He has arranged all for this night" "But why thus? This charade?"
"That I do not know. Save that he is James and has a mind of much subtlety."
"I think that he would have no more plots around the Lady Arabella," Alison put in, "Therefore, instead of locking her up in the Tower, as Queen Elizabeth would have done, he binds her to his side thus-and lets all the world see that he does so. It would be a bold faction, would it not that now sought to use Arabella against the King?" "M'mmm. Yes, that could be…" "You heard it all, then?" Heriot asked.
"Yes. We were behind the side-scenes. Watching through slits. The Queen. The Duchess. Many ladies. The Queen was very wrath. Over the Lady Arabella. In especial the jewel. She all but issued forth…"
"That would have been foolish. The letter, that was strange. Think you it was a forgery? Planted to embroil the plotters. Brooke and the others?"
"I think not," Lennox said. "I would not doubt that James would use forgery, if need be. Or Cecil. But if what Arabella said was true, that she had received another such letter, it might not be necessary. And forgeries are chancy things-they can be two-edged, when it comes to trial. A sealed and signed letter, displayed before all, would make dangerous evidence, forged."
"How much do the seals mean? Clearly that letter had been opened before. James and Cecil had both read it"
"Seals can be softened, opened, and hardened again, yes. All it means is that Arabella received it earlier, handed it over to James, or Cecil, but then was given it back to present to the King thus strikingly. For better effect"
"What I do not understand is why the Lords Cobham and Grey were not arrested with the other two?" Alison wondered. "We know that they were in the plot. They were there-and Sir Robert Cecil said that there were other names in the letter. Of more note. Why not arrest them then?"
'There would be a reason," Heriot assured. "Those two know what they are at. Possibly they are baiting their hook to catch still larger fish?" "You mean… Raleigh?" Lennox asked.
"It could be. Raleigh, if indeed he is implicated, could be hard to catch. A clever man, of notable fame. Idol of the people. Cecil hates him, they say although he used to be his friend, profited from his enterprises. They could be laying a trap for Raleigh." "Are they sufficiently clever for that?"
"Who knows? But I believe they may be. It seems the King scarce needed our good offices!"
Alison laughed, with her unfailing enjoyment of most situations. "It is the English plotters who need help! They need the Master of Gray, I vow, to teach them how to plot! He would never have bungled it thus." Her companions did not contest that.