Nigel Tranter - The Courtesan

In the weeks that followed, the bonnie Earl of Moray continued to make a greater impact on the affairs of the realm in death than ever he had done in life. Various determined folk saw to that. The Kirk promoted him to the status of Protestant martyr, and inspired true believers to make pilgrimage to the kirkyard at Leith, where his unburied body still was on gruesome display, with an armed guard of the faithful on duty day and night to ensure that the King's men did not spirit it away or unsuitably inter it. Parallel with this beatification of the martyr of Donibristle, came a steady series of demands to the King and Privy Council that rigorous steps should be taken against Huntly; Catholicism should be proscribed and made a penal office; and Parliament called to enact laws to make Presbyterianism the official church government for all time coming, and to remove all bishops, abbots and commendators from the seats they held in Parliament.

The Lady Doune was tireless in keeping her son's memory not so much green as red. She paraded the streets, not only with her painting, but with Moray's rent and blood-stained shirt as banner, picqueting the Holyroodhouse gates day after day. She involved her brother Argyll and much of Clan Campbell in the business. It was said that she kept re-singeing her own and her daughter's hair, to counteract the healing effects of time.

As well as oratory, art and pageantry, poetry and literature also seemed to gain new life out of the death of Scotland's posthumous hero. The country was flooded with printed verses, songs, lampoons and pamphlets on the subject, extolling the virtues and beauties of the deceased, his royal blood, proclaiming that he was the Queen's true love, and hinting that in the circumstances the hand behind Huntly's was not far to seek. Since printing was a new and expensive process, the quantity and distribution of these compositions held its own significance.

Mary Gray, watching the Master these days like any hawk, came to the conclusion that for once he had made a grievous miscalculation in his statecraft, had quite failed to estimate public reaction to Moray's death. Until, that is, one day the Lady Marie showed her a scrap of paper which she had found in the pocket of one of Patrick's doublets, given to her for cleaning. It was in his own handwriting, and consisted of a couple of verses of a typical – if better composed than usual -panegyric on Moray, insinuations of the King's guilt, and demand for vengeance. Certain words had been scored out here and there and improved upon, in the same hand. And Maitland's name was included amongst those who were to be held responsible for the tragedy.

Obviously here was much food for thought.

James was forced, in varying degrees, to bow to pressure. A judicial enquiry was at last ordered into the allegations against Huntly – and in due course and not unnaturally, found that nobleman innocent of any greater offence than over-zealousness in discharge of his appointed duty. With Gordons innumerable parading Edinburgh streets, hands on dirks, such a verdict was entirely realistic. The Cock o' the North emerged from Blackness Castle vindicated, and after a single high-spirited demonstration in Edinburgh, sensibly set out for his own North, where Protestant lords like Atholl, Forbes, the Marischal and Grant had been at play while the cat was away.

The Lowlands heaved a premature sigh of relief.

Lord Chancellor Maitland, who had been keeping much in the background of late anyway, came to the conclusion that overwork was affecting his health, and with the King's permission retired to his house of Thirlestane in the Borderland for a vacation of unstipulated duration. No acting-chancellor was appointed but the Master of Gray, with all his wide experience, was at the realm's disposal at all times.

A Parliament was called for June, to consider the Kirk's demands on church government, bishops and the like, and other weighty matters. One of these, curiously enough was a claim put forward by the Master of Gray against the royal treasury; a notably large claim amounting to the peculiar sum of no less than?19,983 – pounds Scots, of course, since there was nothing like that sum in gold or English pounds in all the land. This claim, it transpired, was reimbursement and interest allegedly due to the Master for private monies expended on the nation's business during his previous period of acting-chancellor six years before. The King had signified his assent to this substantial requisition – indeed there were rumours that he was much more deeply involved, and that the whole thing was merely a plot on the part of Patrick and himself to lay hands on a deal of ready money that had recently accrued to the treasury through a spate of fines and forfeitures, to share it between them. Be that as it might, the Lord Treasurer, the unco-operative Master of Glamis, had his reservations, and the matter was to go before the Parliament.

Embalmed now, the corpse of the Earl of Moray remained unburied at Leith, a symbol and a challenge.

With Huntly safely out of the way and fully occupied in the North, Bothwell re-emerged from the wilds of Liddesdale, and took up his threat against the King more or less where he had left off. He was said to be at Crichton, at Hailes, in the Merse with the Homes, at Fast Castle with Logan of Restalrig. True or false, peaceable folk groaned in spirit.

It was only a day or two before the Parliament that Lennox came seeking Mary Gray in the Queen's quarters of the palace. Without ceremony he extracted her from the company of her colleagues, and taking her by the arm led her into the privacy of a tiny turret chamber.

'Sakes, my lord Duke!' she exclaimed. 'You are exceedingly ducal today! Should I be honoured? I so seldom see you now. You are so ducally busy. Closeted with my lord of Mar, with Master Andrew Melville, consulting with the Earl of Atholl, and, they say, with Chancellor Maitland away at Thirlestane.

Even, whisper it, while you are down in those parts, with Bothwell himself…!'

'Who said that?' he jerked. 'Patrick?'

'Why, no. Patrick no longer honours me with his confidences. I had it from the Master of Orkney, the Lady Marie's brother. He hears most of what goes on at Court, I have found.'

'I'd liefer you discussed my affairs with others than that lecherous clown, Mary,' he said stiffly.

Surprised, the girl eyed him. 'Vicky – this is strange, from you. He was but idly gossiping. About all and sundry… '

'What else did he gossip to you? About me?'

'So! There is something in it all then, Vicky? I did not believe it…'

'Well?'

'He said that you were set on being named second man in the kingdom. By this Parliament. Next heir to the throne. I could not credit that. It did not sound like you, Vicky. Do not tell me that it is true?'

'Aye,' the young man said heavily. 'It is true. In some measure. Not that I care anything for such, myself. As you well know. It is but to forestall the Lord Hamilton. He is known to be going to claim that position. His great-grandmother was a daughter of King James the Second. Why he is making the claim, I know not. But it is feared that he has ill designs. I am closer to the Throne than he, so this has been projected. That Parliament should name me as next heir, lacking issue of the King. Lest Hamilton and his friends make trouble…'

Mary all but moaned. 'More of it!' she whispered. 'This… this sounds like Patrick again, Vicky. Is it? Is he behind this intrigue? I vow it was never the King's doing. It smells of Patrick!'

'No. He has no hand in it. He has few dealings with me, now. He may be behind Hamilton's claim – I know not. But not this of mine. It is Atholl who led me to it. And Master Melville. The Kirk party do not trust Hamilton. It appears that they trust me. They believe that they can carry sufficient votes in this Parliament…'