Nigel Tranter: The Wisest Fool

So, singing like a lark, Alison, with her love, passed through the Netherbow Port and into the separate burgh of the Canongate, the palace ahead of them.

At Holyroodhouse cooks, bakers, vintners and decorators of various sorts had been busy all day-and indeed for days previously-preparing. The providing of the wedding feast was, of course, traditionally the responsibility of the bride's father, but James Primrose, in the circumstances, had been very happy to bow to the pressure to use George Heriot's deeper purse. No expense had been spared, in consequence, and the ancient palace, though admittedly now somewhat neglected not to say dilapidated, at least superficially had not looked gayer since Queen Mary's lively days. Banners, bunting, greenery, flowers were everywhere, hired tapestries and hangings and carpeting covered bare stone and flaking plaster, panelling was repaired and tempera painting was renewed, while instrumentalists played in corners, on balconies and in the pleasance. Even certain repairs had been effected to a leaking roof. King James would have rubbed his hands.

There were actually two feasts, one in the Throne Gallery, set for one hundred and fifty, and one in the open forecourt, not set but supplied for five hundred. There was no very clear distinction between the two, and any such there might be became less so as the day wore on-for this was a prolonged occasion. Not only Heriot and his bride wandered in and out between the two. The Scots were never a very class-conscious race and all sections of the invited guests mingled freely enough-though it would be fair to say that the majority of the trader, craftsmen and apprentice guests did not penetrate up to the Throne Gallery, even though there was nothing to stop them doing so; and indeed many of their womenfolk, in especial, did make a quick foray aloft, just to be able to talk about it afterwards. On the other hand, most of the more aristocratic guests did frequent the forecourt festivities intermittently during the five hours of continuous feasting, for here were the side-shows, the jesters and tumblers and wrestlers, the bear-dancing, cock-fighting, dwarf displays and other delights. Needless to say, the Earl of Dunbar and his minions did not honour this affair with their presence; but Chancellor Dunfermline did, and Tam o' the Coogate-though not his father or brother-as did the Reverend Balfour, a pleasant and not too earnest divine who did not always seem to equate sternness with their Creator.

By no means all the company were in a condition to appreciate the fireworks display when at length that stage was reached- though none complained thereat. Alison, with squeals, let off the first rocket, which burst in colourful radiance against the dark loom of nearby towering Arthur's Seat. With the shapely hill and its crags and all the city's other hills, castle and soaring, serrated skyline as backcloth, the extended display was highly impressive and challenging and the cheers of the watching crowds eloquent In time, however, even Alison became slightly apprehensive, wondering how much each flash and bang and star-shower was costing.

"Never heed, lass," her new spouse advised her. "Leave me to calculate that I do not get married every day" He patted her bottom, in proprietorial fashion, as she ran off to light another.

"An excellent entertainment, Master Geordie. A most notable occasion, for which we are all vastly in your debt," a melodiously assured voice declared at his shoulder, presently.

He turned to Patrick Gray. "Ah, I thank you, my lord," he said. "From you, who are so knowledgeable in these matters, that is more than I deserve." "I think not This is altogether a day to remember." "It will be my joy to remember it, sir."

"Of course, of course. You are, I swear, a most happy man. Your Alison is an enchantment. I do believe that you may be as fortunate in your wife as I am in mine!" Surprised, Heriot gave a little bow, but said nothing.

They watched a fiery wheel soar and circle, sparking, through the gloaming sky. "You will have put your hand deep in a deep pocket for all this, my friend," Gray observed.

"Not more deeply than the occasion warrants. After all, I have paid for the like times ainany, for the King's pleasure. Should I not now do so for my own and my friends'?"

"Well spoken, sir. I do agree. But… I think that you are too kind, at times, to our peculiar sovereign lord 1" "Is it not my duty to serve him? All our duty? "

"No doubt But to serve him and his realm to best effect may-demand more, shall we say, discrimination than just giving him all he asks. No?"

"I am a simple tradesman, my lord. Not for me to discriminate amongst the King's wishes."

"Ha-I wonder! And how simple, my friend? Tell me-did that payment to me of nineteen thousand pounds come from your pocket? Or the King's?" "From the King's. In due course."

"Ah, yes-in due course! I wonder. His Grace is to be congratulated on this simple subject of his, I think! But, Master Geordie-that does not mean that His Grace will necessarily love you the more for it. Nor reward you suitably. Or, perhaps, at all!"

Heriot cleared his throat "I do not pretend to any nobility of mind, my lord, as of blood-but I do not seek reward from His Grace, I think. I esteem our, our relationship otherwise." "Said like a very loyal servant. As I was once"

"I acknowledge that His Grace treated you ill, my lord. I was, and am, sorry. But-he may have had reasons unknown to me. Or even to you! Kings are not as other men. Cannot be."

"An interesting philosophy, sir. I am surprised at your disclaimer of nobility of mind. I conceive you to be all but bursting with it!"

Nettled, Heriot frowned. "Speaking of deep pockets, my lord, you yourself I believe, have been spending largely of late? Or so I hear." "Ah! You have sharp ears, Master Geordie."

"Say that I have friends, tradesmen friends. In many places. Not all in Scotland. Some even in France I"

"So-o-o! The wind blows from that airt, does it! Interesting, is it not, how universal a language is the clink of gold pieces?"

"Aye. Even from the Vatican itself to, shall we say, the Isles of Orkney?"

Gray was silenced by that for a little-something few men ever achieved. He drew a deeper breath than usual. "You are a man, I swear, after my own heart" he said then, unexpectedly. "I find that hard to believe, my lord," Heriot answered, shaking his head. "Since we appear to have such very different… persuasions"

'You think so? Tell me, my friend, if you will, you who so notably support His Sacred Majesty. How much of that support is for James Stewart, the man? And how much for his throne and realm?"

It was the other's turn to take his time. "Both," he said, at length. "Aye, both. I am a leal subject and though I now dwell in London, a true Scot The realm of Scotland has my devotion. But I do not separate that realm from its monarch. And I have, you might say, an affection for King James, the man-if that seems not over-presumptuous. He is not as other men-but he could not be. He has ignoble qualities, as well as great-but who has not? But he loves peace, instead of war-which is something new in kings, I think. And, in his fashion, he is honest, good-natured, learned, and thinks for his common subjects rather than for his great lords-as few have done." "But loves neither, to be sure!" "Perhaps. The more credit to him that he thinks of them, then." "I say he loves only himself-God's Vice-Regent I" "Not that, no. He is a man who needs love, I believe-and can have but little of it. He is a lonely man, for all his favourites and courtiers."

"You are eloquent on his behalf, Master Geordie. He has a better friend in you than he deserves, I say. I would warn you, however -watch him well. He will use you, and discard you, at a whim."

"Not at a whim, my lord. He may discard me-for a king must use men and discard them, since they are the tools of his trade, as mine are tongs and pliers and hammers-aye, and merks and pounds. But with James, it would not be at a whim. Of that I am sure."