Nigel Tranter - The Wisest Fool

'Your brother rides high, Sir Andrew," he murmured to Kerr at his side. "He has learned how to butter his bread since he went to France!"

"Is he my brother?" Dand Kerr asked. "Damme, sometimes I wonder! Leastways, he scarce acknowledges me, now! He never looks the road I'm on."

"Whose road does he look, then? Other than his own? My Lord Doncaster*s, there?"

"Jamie Hay's? Not him. He is as little heeded as am I. Robin finds his own kin tiresome. It seems he can do without us."

"I give him twelve months." That was Southampton, who seemed to have wakened up, at the other side of Heriot, "No more. Unless Overbury is less greedy." "Overbury? You mean Sir Thomas? The poet, my lord?"

"Poet? I'd call him otherwise, Master Heriot But that's the man. He, h'm advises our Robin. Did you not know?"

James suddenly was banging on the table with his tankard. It had seemingly occurred to him that Master John Donne, theologian, was implying, in his otherwise adulatory remarks, that he, the monarch had more or less imbibed knowledge of the heavenly language by divine right and godly connection, and had not had to learn it the hard way like other scholars. Much incensed, he announced that he had indeed had to study the Gaelic, along with Sanskrit, Hebrew, Greek, Latin and French, with the help of his tutor Geordie Buchanan's wicked tongue and ready belt. Many a sore ear and ringing head he had suffered, etcetera.

Heriot was not listening, his mind busy. This of Overbury interested him. Sir Thomas Overbury was quite famous, a politician rather than a courtier, an academic of some renown who had travelled widely abroad, an intimate of Ben Jonson and something of a protege of the Howards. But he was seldom seen at Court, and seemed an unlikely "manager" for young Carr.

James had got back to the subject of language, and was demanding of Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery, whether he agreed that Aramaic predated Sanskrit-for it was his wont to keep his courtiers on their toes in these sessions by descending on individuals for opinions without warning; moreover, he made a point of seeking to retain the goodwill of his displaced favourites and keeping them by his side. Montgomery, for instance, had been appointed to the profitable office of Keeper of the New Forest, coincident with Carr's rise. The Earl now declared that, being as a new-born babe in the matter of languages, having enough trouble with English and Welsh, he was well content to accept a master's ruling, namely His Majesty's.

The King reproved him for mental laziness, but was evidently well enough pleased. He went on exploring by-ways of the subject for a little longer, impervious to the growing weight of boredom around him, then suddenly appeared to become aware of the passage of time and brought the session to an abrupt close. He turned, and tweaked Carr's ear.

"It is late," he declared. "Just time for your Latin lesson, before we eat, Robin lad. Eh?" And when the youth groaned audibly, James took it to indicate pain in the said ear and leaned over to lavish kisses upon the organ. Then he rose, and personally aided the other out of his chair.

It was Heriot's turn to groan. He had heard about these daily hour-long Latin sessions with which the sovereign honoured his new favourite. It looked as though he himself would have a long wait yet.

But, as so often, James Stewart surprised. As he was hobbling to the door, on Carr's arm, amidst the relieved bows of all but his goldsmith, he paused and pointed down the chamber. "Geordie," he commanded, "come you."

Hurrying after the pair, Heriot came to the royal den, or study, with its lining of bookshelves, its blazing fire of holly-logs and table covered with wine-flagons and papers.

"Aye, Robin-here's Geordie Heriot," James said, turning. "A canny chiel who kens what's what. Kens how to mak siller grow, forby-which is something that interests yoursel', if I'm no' mistaken, heh? This is Robin Carr, Geordie. Is he no bonnie?"

The other two bowed stiffly to each other, without any extravagant warmth.

"Aye." The King glanced keenly from one to the other. "You'll get on fine, I see! Waesucks-you'll hae to!" There was just a hint of asperity behind that. "Now, Robin-awa' you and empty that bladder o' yours. You're ay needing, at the wrang moment. I want a word wi' Geordie. Back in five minutes just, and we'll get on wi' the Latinity."

As the door closed behind the young man, James put a finger to thick lips, and tip-toed to the door. Opening it suddenly, he peered out Satisfied, he closed it again. "He's a great one for listening behind doors, is our Robin," he confided with a chuckle. "And I want this to be a surprise." "Indeed, She?"

"Aye, Geordie-indeed. I want you to contrive a bit present for me, see you. For Robin. Another medallion, or ornature, like you made for the woman Arabella. But no' a pendant, mind- something man suitable for a man. Square, I'd say, no' round. Here's what I want-a bit tablet o' gold, set wi' diamonds, wi' the Kerrs' arms in the front-that's red and white so it'll need to be rubies and pearls-supported by a lion and a unicorn. That's me, see? And just the plain gold at the back. But it's no' to be just what it seems. It's to be able to open, see-a wee case. Two sides, hinged thegither, and wi' a cleek to shut it. Inside there's to be a bit mirror on one side-for Robin's right keen on admiring him-sel. in mirrors-and a depicture o' mysel' on the other. A miniature, just. I'm getting yon Dutchman Hendriks to paint it for me. So you'll need to get the size right, mind. Is that no' a right cunning notion, Geordie?" Heriot swallowed. "Cunning, She-but expensive!"

"Och, well, we'll no' fret about a bit expense, man, you and me! What's a few pounds to a man who writes notes-of-hand for twenty thousand pounds Scots, and doesna care if he gets it back? Forby, I'm working on a new scheme to mak siller. In right substantial style. Och, a notable scheme." The other's heart sank. "Still another scheme, Sire?"

"Aye-and a bonnie one. I canna mak that many mah knights. The market is near overgorged, as you might say. Eheu iam satis! But there's plenty siller yet in a' yon new knights' pouches. I could be doing wi' some o' it. Maybe I can mak them pay twice. Supposing I was to offer to mak their knighthoods hereditary? So they could leave them to their sons! Like lords can. They'd be willing to pay for that, eh? How think you o' that for a ploy, Geordie man?"

"But-Sire, the whole notion and principle of knighthood is that it is gained by only one man. For himself. A personal accolade and honour. It is not something which can be passed on, to a son or anyone else."

"No, knighthood itsel’ isna. But the title o' Sir to their names. "We'd hae to ca' it something else. A totally new order. Higher than knight, but below the peers, Hereditary sirs. Folk would be right clamouring for the like, eh? Is it no' a notion?"

"I suppose… yes, I suppose it is, Sire." Even though Heriot sounded doubtful, he was much relieved that this was the new money-making device rather than what he had feared, the selling of appointments at Court, through Carr. Though he had still to ascertain that was not, in fact, also in process. He brought the subject back to that young man. "But that is for the future, Your Majesty. This jewel, for young Robert Carr, will be very costly now. Must it be so handsome? Plain silver, with the mirror and miniature, would serve equally well, would it not?" "No, it wouldna. What ails you at Robin Carr?"

"Just that I would wish Your Majesty to save your money. When this young man is already making so much out of your royal kindness." "Meaning-what, sir?" That was rapped out.

"Meaning, Sire, that Sir Robert seems in no need for expensive presents from yourself, when he is making so much out of selling positions at Court to the highest bidder. With or without your royal knowledge."