Nigel Tranter - Lord and Master

'My master, the Most Christian King, is gravely perturbed, Sire,' he said. 'He urges that you make the most vigorous, the most stern representations, the most vehement of which Your Grace is capable. Even to the moving of an army to your borders. I would remind Your Grace that the lady your mother is also Queen-Dowager of France. This threat to her life and affront to her name and state, is equally an affront to my royal master. I am to say that any failure on Your Grace's part to uphold her honour and assure her safety, must be looked upon as an attack upon His Most Christian Majesty – and indeed upon all Christian princes.'

Strangely enough, even the Protestant lords growled fierce commendation ofthese strong sentiments.

James gulped, and looked unhappily at the Master of Gray, seeming even younger than his twenty years. 'But… but what can I do, sirs?' he gasped. 'She'll no' heed me. She's a hard, hard woman, yon Elizabeth. I canna put soldiers at her. She has more o' them than I have, Monsieur. What can I do, sirs?'

'You can denounce this shameful alliance!' de Courcelles said briefly.

'But, man – the cost! The cost o' such a process! I canna suffer it'

Bothwell snorted. 'If Your Majesty suffers this other process to proceed, I think, my liege, that you should be hanged yourself the day after!'

A shocked silence fell upon the Throne-room. Only the slightly crazed young Hepburn, who was also James's cousin, could speak in such fashion – but even so, he had gone too far. Patrick judged that it was time to take a hand, a decisive hand.

'My lord of Bothwell is carried away, Sire, by his new-found love. You must forgive him. He misjudges more than the occaision, I think. Far be it from me to suggest that these good lords, His Excellency of France, and the most Christian King are all mistaken. Such would be unthinkable. This matter is all no doubt a question of degree, a question not of right and wrong, of statecraft or government – but of understanding character. One woman's character. I hatter myself that I can read Queen Elizabeth's character as well as any here present – even my Lord Bothwell and Lochleven! – having talked with her, debated with her, even danced with her. And I do believe that she will not warrant another Queen's death. It is not a matter of her hardness of heart, nor yet her anger and fear. It is much more than these – her whole life and outlook and situation. She is Queen of England. Dog, they say truly, does not eat dog. Queen does not execute Queen. Elizabeth will commute the sentence.'

'We know that is your opinion, Monsieur de Gray,' the Frenchman demurred, 'Others think otherwise. Is this lady's life – possibly the fate of Europe: to hang on so slender a thread as one man's opinion? Your Highness – is it, mon Dieu!'

Patrick answered quickly. 'No – indeed no. I would be the last to suggest it. I could be mistaken. His Grace would be unwise, wrong, to ignore the advice of so many good councillors, so great a weight of wisdom and experience.' He turned to the King. 'Your Highness must send forthwith another envoy to Elizabeth.'

'Another envoy will win the same reception as the first – as Keith!' Angus objected. 'Elizabeth will not even see him'

'I think that she will. More particularly if that envoy is myself, my lord.'

No one spoke for a few moments – a silence that was at length broken by James himself

'Aye, Patrick – that's it, man! That's it!' he exclaimed. 'You go. You tell her. You tell Elizabeth of our feelings. That we are much perturbed. That we canna' be unmoved by our royal mother's fate…'

'My God – you will have to tell her more than that!' Bothwell burst out 'Tell her that if she does not denounce this monstrous sentence, we sound the call to arms!'

'Aye – tell her that I myself will lead five thousand lances across her march!' the Lord Claud Hamilton cried.

'Tell her that I will burn Carlisle!' Bothwell declared. 'Thousands shall die!'

'I suggest, my lords,' Patrick intervened, with his faint smile, 'that what I tell Queen Elizabeth is for His Grace's Privy Council to decide.'

'But when, man? There must be no delay.'

'Fortunately, with so many of the Council here present, we can meet forthwith. Today, if it is His Grace's pleasure'

'Aye, aye, Patrick…'

'And when will you go to the south? The matter is of great urgency…' 'This very night, if it is the Council's wish.' 'Tonight, yes. That is straight talking.' To this Council then, gentlemen.. ' Patrick Gray did not miscalculate twice.

After the Council, the King, with much secrecy and gesticulation, beckoned Patrick, and David with him, into a private room. Locking the door behind them, he listened at it for a few moments, and even went poking behind the hangings and tapestries of the walls.

'Ears' he muttered. 'Ears everywhere. Aye, and eyes too. They're aye listening, aye watching me, Patrick. I've none I can turn to, but you. They took Cousin Esme from me, and Captain Jamie. We'll have to watch that they dinna take you, man.. '

'I think that Your Grace need not fear for me.. '

'Aye, you've aye got Master Davy to look after you. Man, there's times I thank the Lord God for Master Davy – so sure, so strong! Never let him frae your sight, man Davy – d'you hear me? That's a command, mind – my royal command. Or they'll get you, Patrick…!'

'Do not fear. Your Grace is overwrought…'

'I'm no' overwrought. And I ken fine what I'm saying. Davy's to go with you to yon London, mind – to watch over you. The man Walsingham… and Leicester…'

David cleared his throat. 'I will see that my brother is enabled to fulfil his mission; Your Grace – God aiding me!'

Patrick smiled sardonically.

James shambled about the small room, throwing uncertain glances at the two brothers. 'After you have seen Elizabeth,' he said in a different voice. 'You must seek a private audience. Private, see you. Could you do that, Patrick? Think you could you win her ear, privily?'

Gravely Patrick nodded. I think that it might conceivably be arranged, Sire.'

'Aye, good. Good. Then, in her privy ear, man, you must tell her that this is a bad business and I must have my amends. My amends, see you. You'll tell her that?'

'Amends, Your Highness? You mean…?'

'Aye – amends, man. Compensation. As is only just and suitable. The woman has laid a great insult upon me and my kingdom. A monarch canna do the like to another monarch, and no' pay for it! Na, na – she will have to recompense me. And richly. You will insist on that, Patrick. In her private ear, mind.'

Patrick stroked mouth and chin thoughtfully.

David was less controlled. He could not hold himself in. 'You mean money Sire?' he gasped.

'That would be best, aye. It is a matter o' principle. Just and fair indemnity for hurt done. Without the like there would be no decent commerce between realms and princes. It will need to be a goodly sum, mind – for our honour isna' to be lightly spat upon. Or maybe an increase to our pension – a substantial increase.'

Patrick's glance flickered over to his brother. 'I shall essay what may be achieved, Highness,' he said solemnly.

'Aye, do that. And another matter. It is time that there was an Act of her Parliament naming me Second Person to Elizabeth, and successor to her Throne. High time. Tell her privily that if she will have siklike an Act passed, I will overlook yon other ill Act they passed. You have it?

'M'mmm. I do not know, Sire, that Queen Elizabeth will bear with talk of that kidney – even privately. She is a woman of notable spirit. But… I will do what I may.'

'This is an opportunity, man Patrick – a great opportunity. And I have great faith in you. Aye, and in you, Master Davy, to look after him. There's no others that Pd trust with an errand o' siklike delicacy. No' a word o' this to Sir Robert, mind. He's gey thick in the head, yon soldier-man.' Sir Robert Melville, brother to Sir James and Sir Andrew, was the second envoy whom the Council had chosen to accompany Patrick on his mission, one of an honest family, and an uncompromising Protestant.