Nigel Tranter - The Wisest Fool

"Her Grace perhaps has not got quite such a short memory as your sire implies!" Heriot observed to Mary Gray, as he stood with her and Alison Primrose, watching from a suitably retired position. "I wonder where the money came from for those gifts?"

"Not from Patrick Gray's coffers, you may be sure. Nor yet, this once, from George Heriot's. But it is a good sign-my father covering up any lingering memories of a supposed plot, the royal family's most faithful servant!" "You think the plot quite abandoned. There is still Prince Charles left in Scotland. Might not he serve as puppet King of Scots, instead?"

"I think not. He is too sickly and feeble. Fyvie believes that he will not live. He would be no use for Patrick's purposes-disaster if he died in his hands. No, I believe that plot is dead, and now being effectively buried. But my father will yet have his revenge on the King, if he can-nothing surer. So I will watch closely here in Scotland-and do you so in London, Geordie. Patrick will have his minions there also, you may be sure." Mary was not travelling South with Lennox-of her own sorrowful but sure decision. The Duchess was going, inevitably, part of the Queen's train. Moreover, Mary had her young son to look after at Methven Castle, little John Stewart of Methven, to whom his ducal father had made over his Scottish home and lands-in reality as a gift to his mother. Ludovick would hasten North from London just as frequently as he could, that was certain; and, who knew, once James was well settled on his English throne, he might well have less need of Lennox, and he could come back to Scotland more or less permanently.

And so formal farewells were taken, and amidst more cannonade the royal column set out from Holyroodhouse, the great coach creaking and mmhling, drawn by eight matching white horses, George Heriot and Alison Primrose riding together well in the rear of the brilliant company. The Chancellor and many of the nobles would see the Queen on her way as far as the Border.

But not Patrick Gray, he already had a bellyful of Berwick-upon-Tweed. As they watched the others go, he and his daughter turned and exchanged a long glance.

"As our beloved monarch would say-absens haeres non erit! the man observed conversationally. "Or again, perhaps-aut non tentaris aut perfice!" she capped it

"My clever daughter 1" he acknowledged, bowing. "If you and I could but work in harness, what might not we achieve?"

After an overnight halt at the Hamilton castle of Innerwick, they came to Berwick on a dove-grey, windless noon, to more cannon-fire-and a confrontation. Here, George Heriot moved up the column discreetly, near to the Queen's side, where Lennox welcomed him thankfully. For here, held back from Edinburgh, waited the aheady offended Earls of Sussex and Lincoln, with the Countesses of Worcester and Kildare, and the Ladies Scrope, Rich and Walsingham, sent North by King James. With the newly knighted governor, Sir William Selby, they waited in a brilliant group at the Scots Gate of the old grey-walled town.

Anne, who had been at her most gracious all the way, bowing and waving to the people, beaming on local demonstrations, kissing children, at sight of this party, and of the canopied horse-litter, splendid with the royal arms, which accompanied them, froze in her saddle-for she had quickly found coach-travel on bumpy, dusty roads uncomfortable in the early June heat, and reverted to horseback like the rest of the company. As they reined up only a short distance in front of the bowing magnificos, she called, in clear, ringing tones, "Who are these, Duke of Lennox? Not Berwickers, I vow! I told you-I will have no more women imposed upon my household by His Grace, or any other. I have had a sufficiency of that!"

"H'rr'mm." Lennox cleared his throat "It is a welcome, Highness…"

The Earl of Sussex intervened smoothly, but authoritatively as befitted one in blood relationship to the late Elizabeth. "We warmly greet Your Majesty, on His Majesty's royal commands, to this your kingdom of England, the fairest jewel of Christendom's crown, opened like a pearl-oyster for your royal delectation. A pearl without price set in a silver sea, to which nothing you has ever seen may compare. To ascend this jewelled throne is a bliss beyond all sublime…"

"Your rhapsody, sir, does you credit-but I think you exaggerate!" the Queen broke in briskly. "How know you that your England is so much better than other lands? Have you visited them all? You came to Scotland, yes, for my son's christening- where, I would remind you, I have been Queen for a dozen years! Did you mislike it so? And have you been to Denmark? To Norway, where my brother is King. Speak to that which you know, my lord."

Sussex was far too great an English nobleman to look put out, but he could and did look pained. "I rejoice that at least Your Majesty recognised me, Sussex," he declared stiffly. "And this is my lord Earl of Lincoln, Henry Clinton, member of the Privy Council and valued servant of Her late Majesty. And here is the Countess of Worcester and the Countess of Kildare, appointed Your Majesty's principal Ladies-in-Waiting by King James. And the Ladies Scrope, Rich and Walsingham, also of your new household…" "No, my lord," Anne said briefly. He stared. They all did. "I… I do not understand, Madam?" "I would have thought it sufficiently simple, sir. I choose my own ladies." "But… His Majesty…" "I do not seek to help choose the King's gentlemen for him!"

The other earl, Lincoln, an older man, spoke up. "Majesty- these ladies only desire to serve you. They are of the most eminent in England."

"No doubt, sir. Or, leastways, serve the King. I thank them- but have my own ladies. If I wish to add to their number, I shall make my own choice."

The youngest of the waiting ladies, a dark-haired, vivid creature, tried a different approach. "Majesty-I am Frances Howard, daughter to Effingham-or Nottingham, as he now is-the Lord Admiral. Wed formerly to Kildare. We have brought with us a great store of the late Queen's gowns, dresses, robes for your use. Rich clothing of notable worth. I was Her Majesty's Mistress of the Wardrobe."

"Indeed, Countess? And you conceive me, Anne, to be the repository for your late mistress' cast-off clothes?" the Queen asked, coldly. "Must I, your Queen, wear another's discarded wardrobe? 'Fore God, woman-watch how you speak!"

"No, Madam-no! I swear that is not the way of it." The Countess looked shaken. "Believe me, these are not cast-off. Many have never been worn. Her Majesty was, was improvident in this. She ordered great numbers of gowns, three of a kind most frequently. Wore one once and discarded the others…"

"So may a queen behave. If Elizabeth, why not Anne? Am I to play the frugal hausfrau of this so rich jewel of Christendom's crown, to make up for Elizabeth's improvidence?" "Not so, Majesty. But…"

"Your Highness," the older Countess of Worcester intervened hurriedly, "these gowns are very splendid. Seeded with pearls, hung with jewels, decked with gold and silver…"

"Were they laden with the riches of the Indies, I would not wear another's clothes!" Anne declared. "I am the Queen."

A little back from her side, George Heriot coughed. "Your Grace -these gowns may have their uses," he suggested, in a murmur. "You need not wear them. You could bestow them as gifts. Cut up, they might serve many purposes. As at masques and entertainments. The jewels you could have cut off. Used otherwise. Jewels are never at second-hand-as I should know! Indeed, you could perhaps sell them to me! And thereby, h'm, something improve our account 1" That was little more than a whisper. "Ah," Anne said.

"Master Heriot speaks good sense, Cousin," Lennox put in, lightly confidentiaL "You could start by giving one of the gowns to me! I swear I'd find a use for it! I am not so rich that I could not do with a few English pearls." "You have a rich wife, Vicky."