Nigel Tranter - The Wisest Fool

James, boots off, supported now by Montgomery and Carr, stepped gingerly forward and into the heap of entrails and guts and there paddled and dabbled his bare feet and legs in the bloody, slithering mass. He was a great believer in this as a remedy for gout, declaring that it had to be done at once, and in the place where the brute was slain, an excellent remede and recure for strengthening and restoring the sinews.

In the midst of this gory business, James perceived the hound lying across the horse's back. Brows raised, he demanded what this might be?

Amidst a sudden hush, the Queen spoke. "It is the beast Jewel, Sire. Your hound. By an ill mischance it was shot…"

"Jewell My Jewel? Waesucks-shot, you say, woman! My Jewel deid!"

"It was a mischance. The hound leapt forward. The quarrel, aimed at the buck, struck the dog…"

"Whae shot it? Whae killed my Jewel? What ill limmer did this to me? I'll teach him to mend his shooting! By God, I will!" Bare and bloody feet notwithstanding, James tottered over unaided to the horse which bore the hound's body. "Och, Jewel- Jewel!" he wailed. "My ain bit tike! Jewel, auld friend!" Tears streaming, the King stroked the rough grey coat

Anne drew a long breath. "I shot it, James," she said. Her voice shook shghtly, but she held her head high. "I drew on the buck But Jewel leapt, and the quarrel…"

"You did? You shot my Jewel, woman! Precious soul o' God! I might hae kent it! Nane other would hae been sic a fool! Whae said you could shoot at my buck, anyway? God save us frae fool women! How dared you to shoot when my hounds were close?" "How dare you, James, bespeak me so!" Anne cried back. "Me, the Queen! Before all these. And these Swedes! How dare you, sir!" It was the King's turn to draw a long breath. After a distinct pause, he spoke in a different tone. "Ooh, aye-I dare, right enough. I can dare mair than that, Annie, see you! I, James Stewart, will dare plenties, when need be. And let nane forget it! But… maybe now isna the convenient time, I'll grant you. Aye -we'll put it by, the now." He turned. "My boots, Robin-my boots, laddie." He gave a final pat to the dead hound. "Fare-thee-weel, Jewel, auld friend. You were truer friend to me than many I'd name! Aye-and that's twa guid hounds gone in twa days, waesucks. Jowler yesterday-and now Jewel." His boots pulled on for him, he stamped across for his own lathered roan. Mounting, he called, "We'll awa' back, then. Enough for this day-aye, or any day!" Without another glance at wife or Swedish embassage, he reined round to lead the way back to Theobalds House.

Riding beside Heriot, near but not too near the Queen-who no doubt would prefer her own company just then-Lennox agreed with his friend that this was all very unfortunate. Particularly on top of the Jowler business. Jowler, it seemed, was another of the King's best deer-hounds, and after yesterday's hunt had disappeared. Theobalds had been in a stir over it half the night, with search-parties out and dire threats emanating from the Crown, James asserting that it was no mischance but all some dire malice against himself. Anne had therefore been doubly unfortunate with her arrow. Lord knew what repercussions there might be, now!

However, after a mile or so, a single horseman came trotting back down the long line of tired riders threading the woodlands- James himself. He rode up to the Queen, and tipped a bloodstained finger to his bonnet

"Och, yon was a pity, Annie," he said. "Aye, a pity. I was maybe a mite hasty. Och, we'll forget it, just Shall we?"

Anne was stiff. "I cannot forget being miscalled, like some fishwife, in front of all!" she declared. "Especially the new Swedes. If my being a king's wife means so little to you, then recollect, I pray, that I am also a king's daughter and sister!" "Ooh, aye-you're that, a' right. Or I wouldna hae wed you! And a right unwise-like king to be sister to! To be attacking the same Swedes, in war! A fell fool ploy! And you auld farther was no' much better. I never saw him sober!" "Sir…!"

"Uh-huh. Weel-we'll forget that too, eh? Aye, Geordie-is that yoursel’? Back frae yon troublesome northern realm o' mine! I hear you had your way ower the Hartside nonsense. A deep pouch is fell usefu', eh?" Heriot blinked. "You did, Sire? Hear? So soon!"

"I hae ears, Geordie! On baith sides o' my heid! And a wheen wits in between! Come and gie me your crack anent Scotland, man. But-nae need to shout it oot for a' this country to hear!"

So, riding close beside the King, through the winding woodland trails, Heriot told all that he considered relevant and important arising from his trip. As ever, how much of it was news to his monarch he could not gauge. He said nothing about the Casket Letters.

James seemed little interested in most of what he told him, but definitely so over the suggestion that the Master of Gray was at present, if not actually co-operating, at least not opposing the Earl of Dunbar, Lord Treasurer of Scotland. "We'll hae to see aboot that," he commented. "Would you jalouse that Doddie Home was a match for Patrick Gray, Geordie? I wouldna like the one to swallow up the other, mind"

"A match in some respects, Sire, I think. Not in others. In unscrupulousness, yes. In wits, no."

"Ho-so that's the way o' it! You dinna like my guid servant the Earl o' Dunbar, Geordie Heriot?"

"Say that I would not like him to owe me money, Sire. Or anything else! I'd count my life short"

"Aye-life's a chancy business, is it no'? Short or lang. As it seems yon George Sprott discovered! Hominis est errare" "That was… judicial murder, was it not, Sire?"

'You think so? Your worthy cousin, Tam o' the Coogate, my Advocate, didna so advise me! Maybe you ken the law better? We'll see what Jamie Elphinstone says, shall we? When he arrives." "Elphinstone? My Lord Balmerino-he is coming? Here?"

"I've summoned him, aye. To gie an account o' his stewardship, just. Holy "Writ says 'It is required o' a man that he be found faithfu'', mind. Aye-we maim a' mind it Mysel’-and even you! Maist times I account you faithfu', Geordie-forby the fact that whiles you canna see mah'n an inch beyond your nose I That's the trouble, eh? The honest are gey apt to be dull in the uptak-and the lads wi' the wits I canna trust. Who'd be a king, Geordie? Who'd be a king?"

"Not me, She-thank God! Nor anything other than a simple tradesman."

"A simple tradesman, eh? You?" James looked at him cynically. "And who's the honest man, now?"

They had come to the approaches to Salisbury's huge mansion, and were heading for the stableyards. There was some commotion in front, with shouting for the King. Riding up, James found some of his party in a circle around a forester who held a hound on a lead.

"Jowler!" the monarch cried. "Guidsakes-it's Jowler. And fit as a flea, after a'! Here's a right blessing. Whaur d'you find him, man?"

"Your Majesty," the forester faltered, "I didn't rightly find him, as you might say. Three men brought him to the kennels- rough, country fellows. Then ran off. This 'ere paper I found tucked in Jowler's collar." Bobbing a bow he held out a folded paper.

James took it, peering. "What's this, what’s this?" he demanded. "Ill writing. Uncouth. You read it, Vicky."

Scanning the paper briefly, Lennox grinned, then schooled his features to a proper solemnity. He read out, "Good Mr. Jowler, We pray you speake to the King (for he hears you every day, and so doth he not us) that it will please his Majestie to go back to London, for els the contry will be undoon; all our provition is spent already, and we are not able to intertayne him longer."

There was a snigger from sundry of those well to the rear which stopped quickly at James's scowl.

"What means this?" he asked. "If any ken the meaning o' this screed and perceive wit in it-inform me. Inform me, I say." None was bold enough to elaborate. Young Carr soothingly declared that it was some bumpkin's half-witted haverings, no more.