Nigel Tranter - Past Master

Whatever Lord Home's assessment of the situation – and he showed no signs of preparing to attack – was little to the point. Almost immediately after the return of his white-flag part}7, Both-well's trumpets rang out, to be followed by rounds of mocking cheering from his moss-troopers. Then, unhurriedly and in perfect order, the long line of horsemen swung round and merged into a column-of-route formation, and so trotted off southwards behind the Hepburn banner in most final fashion.

Home sent scouts to the highest vantage-points around, to ensure that there was no circling back – but that is as far as his counter-measures went. No major protest was raised from the loyalist ranks at this policy of strategic inaction, least of all from the King of Scots.

A party of Douglas horse were despatched to trail the invaders southwards, to make certain that they left the district – which, being Morton's domains, he did not contest. In an access of relief, James thereupon dramatically knighted Kennedy of Bargany for courageous service on the field of battle. On this happy note, horses' heads were turned towards Edinburgh, the sunset and supper.

It had been a momentous Sabbath. Patrick sent a messenger ahead of them to proclaim victory and to have the church-bells acclaim the King's triumphant return to his rescued Capital.

The Chapel-Royal at Stirling Castle was packed tight as any barrel of Leith herrings. A small place, built only a few years before by King James to replace one that had fallen into ruins, it had been designed only for the devotions of the monarch and his suite, and was quite inadequate and unsuitable for any major ceremonial. But here the ceremony must be, for still, on no account would the King permit that his precious son and heir be carried over the heavily-guarded threshold of Stirling Castle. So willy-nilly, into this meagre space must be packed not only much of the Protestant aristocracy of Scotland, but the host of special envoys and representatives of the Courts of Europe invited for the occasion – for James was, these days, much uplifted with satisfaction, pride and self-esteem, and was determined that the world should not be backward in recognising the good cause he had for it

Despite all this, however, and her lowly status, Mary Gray had one of the best positions in that seething crowded church, up at the chancel steps, between the altar and the font. This was not so strange, for she held in her arms the principal and centre of interest of the entire affair – the scarlet-faced and distinctly puny Prince of Scotland; by the King's command, if not the Queen's.

The trouble was that Mary had already held the infant for over twenty difficult minutes. James had insisted that his son should be in good time for his christening, that all might have the opportunity of admiring him – an understandable paternal ambition had, in fact, the crowd in the chapel been of a density to see anything other than their nearest neighbours; or had he ensured that the ceremony started approximately up to time. As it was, the situation was on the verge of getting out of hand, and deteriorating rapidly.

In the heat of that August day, the Chapel-Royal was like an oven. Even Mary, normally so cool and fresh, was pink and breathless. The baby, in its tight swaddling clothes, was turning from scarlet to crimson, and seemed to be near apoplexy with bawling – even though, with the noise made by other people, the child's cries were next to inaudible.

Mary, exhausted, limp, and isolated by the throng from all assistance, almost fell on his neck when the Duke of Lennox came, elbowing his way through die crush to her side.

'Oh, Vicky,' she gasped, 'God be praised that you have come! The child – he is all but crazed. The heat! The noise! This long waiting..

'I am sorry, my dear. It is the Queen. She is beside herself. She forbids that the christening goes on if the child is not baptised Frederick first, after her father of Denmark. And only then Henry. The King insists that it be Henry first, as compliment to Queen Elizabeth, after her father. That the boy may one day be King in England also. Elizabeth must be conciliated, he says. Neither will yield – Henry Frederick or Frederick Henry!'

'The folly of it! They are no more than stupid wilful children themselves! They care nothing how the bairn suffers! Tell the King that the child will be ill, Vicky. Endangered. They must delay no longer…'

'Already I have tried,' he told her. 'But you know Anne!'

'Can Patrick not help?'

'Patrick is soothing the Kirk. And Elizabeth's special ambassador, Sussex. He esteems this an insult to his Queen.' 'Ask Patrick, nevertheless.'

Whether Patrick Gray's doing or not, a flourish of trumpets sounded from outside, fairly soon after Lennox's departure, the signal for the royal entry. Obviously, however, it was quite impossible for the procession to come in by the main door and up the aisle, as arranged. Instead, the small vestry door near the chancel was thrown open, and through its narrow portal the official retinue had to squeeze – with a certain forfeiture of dignity. The Lord Lyon King of Arms, his heralds and trumpeters, preceded the other high officers of the realm, who bore die Sword of State, the Sceptre, the Spurs and so on. Then came Lennox as Lord Chamberlain, followed by the youthful Earl of Sussex, resplendent in pearl-sewh velvet, and carrying a towel with which most evidently he did not know what to do. At his back and jostling to see which could be hindmost, and therefore senior, came two clerics, one in sober black and Geneva bands, one in gorgeous cope, alb, stole and mitre – Master David Lindsay, the King's chaplain, and Cunningham, Bishop of Aberdeen. Two young women then appeared, edging through side by side, one nervously giggling, the other red-eyed with weeping – ladies in waiting.

There was a space, and then the Queen sailed in head high, set-faced and frowning blackly, the two pages who held her train having to follow at the trot. She was a small creature, slim as a boy, with sharp-pointed features, reddish hair, and a darting eye. She had had a certain pert prettiness when first she came from Denmark five years before, but at nineteen this was no longer apparent. She was clothed in royal purple, which went but doubtfully with her red-brown hair.

King James came in with the two pages – indeed he all but trotted with them, looking anxious, clad in sufficient magnificence for three men. The Master of Gray slipped inside last of all, to close the door. After only a moment or two, however, he turned back and opened it again.

Queen Anne, ignoring the Lord Lyon's indication of where she should stand, made straight for Mary Gray, to snatch the protesting infant from her, glaring.

Although this was not the arrangement, Mary gave up her burden with relief, curtsying. It distressed her that the Queen should look upon her as an enemy nowadays, as one of those who kept her from her baby. The fact that Mary had no wish to act as a sort of governess to the young prince, and indeed longed only to get back to her own life with Ludovick and her son at Methven, did not help her with Anne, who saw her now only as the woman who was supplanting her with her child.

The King, gobbling with apprehension, hastened forward to remonstrate. He actually laid hands on the child – whereupon the Queen clutched him the tighter, suddenly became a tigress with her whelp. It looked as though a tug-of-war might develop, when the Master of Gray sauntered up, smiling, to murmur soothingly to the King and then to turn his fullest charms upon Anne. What was said could not be heard by others because of the baby's yells and the chatter of the congregation. But somehow Patrick convinced the Queen, however reluctantly, to hand over the squirming, yelling bundle to the young and far-from-eager Earl of Sussex, who held it gingerly, dropping his towel in the process. James himself stooped to pick this up, hovering around Elizabeth's envoy in agitation. Hurriedly Patrick signed to Lyon, who nudged the nearest trumpeter. The blast of the instrumentalists thereafter drowned all other sounds in that constricted space.