Nigel Tranter - The Wisest Fool

"I wonder?" her husband said, slowly. "If I was James-which God forbid I – I think… I might have done the same " "Oh, you ever favour him, Geordie "

"He has two realms to govern, lass. One of them four hundred miles away."

"Geordie's right," the Duke admitted. "And James has the cleverest man in Europe to master-so he sends me! He can scarcely expect me to outwit Gray-so what is he at? Though, to be sure, it may be getting beyond the wits stage. Coming to the sword, at last! And with the sword, it may be, I might shine a little brighter " "Oh, no…!" "Is it so bad as that, Vicky?"

"It looks so. Young Robert Stewart, Orkney's bastard and favourite son, has set himself up, in Kirkwall, as his father's appointed representative, indeed proclaimed himself Sheriff of Orkney and Shetland, declaring the Isles to be an independent principality under Udal law. He has taken over all Scots shipping there and announced that he is coming to rescue his father and uncles."

"Rebellion! From the Orcades. Lord-is this to be taken seriously?"

"Who knows? It sounds crazy-mad. But if Gray is behind it- and few doubt that-then it is serious indeed. Shiploads of arms are known to have been sailed into Kirkwall for months past. But not only Kirkwall-there is word of the like all along the east coast of Scotland, from Angus northwards. Especially into the Catholic Gordon lands of Aberdeenshire and Banff. This threatened invasion is not just to rescue Earl Patrick from Dumbarton Castle! It could be the armed Catholic revolt, at last, only making use of Orkney." "With what hope of success?"

"More than seems likely at first glance. Our peace-loving monarch has maintained no real army in Scotland. Such Scots soldiers as there are, are over in Ulster settling in the planters and ejecting the Irish. Dunbar has divided and weakened the country. And, more important, recollect who Patrick of Orkney is-the King of Scots' nearest living kinsman. Nearer than I am. His father was illegitimate, yes, where mine was not, but he was a son of James the Fifth and brother to Queen Mary. And Earl Patrick himself is not illegitimate, whatever else he is."

"Dear God-you mean he might yet become King Patrick the First?"

"Would that be so much more strange than the plot to put the child Henry on the throne in 1603?" "I can scarce believe all this serious, Vicky."

"Maybe not. But have you forgotten the Casket Letters, Geordie? What is it James so fears in them? That he himself could be proved illegitimate-or allegedly so! Would Orkney, then, not have a better claim to the throne? And it is believed Gray now holds those Letters. You may not see it as serious-but James does. Sufficiently to have given me a private letter for Patrick Gray. And told me privily I shall receive secret instructions from him before I leave for Scotland. Gray, no doubt, is only using Orkney for his own ends-but that could mean Scotland with a new and resident king again. Which many might welcome. James is much concerned. Not so much that he fears for his Scots throne, I think-he believes God will secure him that! But that he, the peace-maker, may have to take the sword to hold that throne. To have to go to war in his own native land, just when European peace seems to be within his grasp."

"And that, I swear, is Patrick Gray's strongest card! If indeed there is a devil here, Alison lass-that is he!"

Heriot and his wife were conducted through the gardens of Denmark (or Somerset) House, in the golden September sunshine, to the same arbour where once before the man had sat, with the Queen, and handed over to her the jewel which was his first present to Alison. Anne sat there again, amongst the ripe-hanging fruit and turning leafage, and looked notably older than on that other occasion, older and sadder, if not wiser-although she was still but thirty-six.

The Queen was alone and she dismissed the junior Lady in Waiting who had brought them, "My friends," she said, in her guttural voice, heavier even than it used to be, as they made their obeisances, "come and sit by me. It is pleasant here, and the sun warms my aching joints." 'Your Majesty still suffers pain?" Alison asked. "Bodily pain is the least of my troubles," the Queen said. "His Highness the Prince of Wales is better, Madam?" Heriot enquired. "I heard that he appeared very well at the ship-launching of the Prince Royal, at Gravesend."

"Better, yes-but still less than well. He has grown listless, pale and complains of pains. Both in the head and belly. It is unnatural in so fine, so strong a young man."

"Some passing weakness, Madam. Outgrowing his strength, belike. He is now eighteen, and tall. Often it is so…"

"No. That does not come suddenly, as this has done. It is only since his investiture. He has begun to fail. My physicians can find nothing amiss. They have purged and bled and dosed him. They speak, the fools, even of witchcraft! Oh, Master Geordie-I dare speak of this to none. Save perhaps you, my old friend. It could not be… it could not be… that he is being slowly poisoned?" She choked on the word.

"Your Majesty!" he exclaimed "Save us-do not… never think it! Never that! Here is folly, surely-begging Your Majesty's pardon. A mother's fond fears run riot! The heir to the throne! The most popular figure in the realm…!"

'There's the rub! Too popular, I vow. When one is so popular, others less so may seek to pull him down." "But, Highness-not the King's son?" "No? If it is the King who most resents that popularity?" "But-Sweet Mercy! You do not… you cannot…?"

"James has been turning against Henry for years," she said, in a level voice. "Because Henry prefers my company. Is all that James is not-graceful, handsome, strong, noble. And the people love him. As they do not love his father. That James cannot forgive."

"Madam-you cannot, before God, be suggesting that His Majesty would, would…!" Heriot shook his head helplessly.

"Not James himself, perhaps. But his minions, it might be. That vicious Carr, or Rochester, as he now calls himself. Who never fails to insult me. He, and his governor, Overbury. Would these two hesitate to dispose of my Henry? As they have done with others?"

"Not so, Madam-I swear! Not poison. Not the Prince of Wales!"

"No? Knowing that the King hates him, fears his popularity with the people. James's own mother was deposed, to set him up as king. Why not Henry? Moreover, Henry despises Carr, and resents the slights he puts upon me-and shows it" "There could be ill will, yes. But poison…!"

"Carr and Overbury have already used poison, I am told. Powdered glass. Carr learned of it at that she-devil's, Catherine de Medici's Court in Paris. She is dead, but her methods linger on! And now, this latest death. Also to James's advantage." "What death, Madam?"

"Why, the odious Dunbar. The hateful Doddie Home. Surely you have heard?"

Heriot drew a long, quivering breath. He did not trust himself to speak.

Alison did. "We heard that he had died. Suddenly. While more or less prisoner, in Whitehall. After his… examination. Your Majesty thinks it was poison?" "Half the Court thinks so, girl."

"I cannot believe it, Highness!" the man got out "Not poison. Or, not at the King's behest His Majesty… is not so. I swear it! I have known him long, been honoured with his confidences. That is not King James."

Anne shook her head. "I hope… I pray… that you are right. But… Carr! That evil youth whom James cherishes in preference to me, his wife, would do anything. I am going to Hampton Court, to be with Henry. To watch over him. I must and shall. God's curse on all unnatural catamites, and those who suffer them!" With an obvious effort, the Queen sought to calm herself and forced her voice to a more even tone. "But… I did not summon you both here to speak so, to pour out my woes on you. I have two purposes, Master Geordie, one pleasant, one less so. The first is to offer the appointment of Extra Woman of the Bedchamber to Mistress Alison, here-who was once my Maid in Waiting. And to express my sorrow at the… misunderstanding which came between us."