The Wisest Fool mog-4 Page 6

  "My Lord Fyvie is a friend of my father's. Otherwise I think he would not be where he is. He may be honest-but he is new to the task. Not a strong man, as old Maitland was strong. More interested in building castles and palaces, writing poetry, than in statecraft He is at Dunfermline, building as ever. Would he listen to me, even if I could get to him? As I could not-for I am watched always. My father loves me, in his fashion, I am sure- but trusts me no further than I trust him" "So-o-o! What would you have me do?"

  "See the Queen. Discover, if you can, whether she is in the plot If not, warn her. And somehow contrive to get Prince Henry into her hands, and safe away from Stirling. Into England, to his father. Little Prince Charles too, if that is possible. He is at Dunfermline with the Chancellor…" "Save us-here's no light task, Mistress I How can I do this?"

  "Somebody must And quickly. You have authority. A good head, all say. And, money-which might be important 1 And the Queen heeds you."

  "I have no authority in matters of state. Only in private affairs. I am only His Grace's jeweller. I could send an urgent message to the King…"

  'There is no time, sir. That would take days. Patrick may strike at any moment. What is to be done must be done at once. Do you understand, Master Heriot? At once. Even tomorrow may be too late. My father does not daunder either, when he sets his hand to a venture " "I shall ride to Linlithgow tomorrow…"

  "Tonight, sir, I beg you. I know you are weary. But the Master of Gray will have you watched-nothing more sure. If the Queen is in this, he may well seek to prevent you seeing her. Or at least, have her warned against you. He knows that we have been together, knows how I hate his plots. He is not stupid. He will see you as dangerous, I am sure. Ride tonight, Master Heriot-before he has time to make plans for you 1"

  "This is all too much I So much beyond me, Mistress Gray- this sort of intrigue and plot and treason. For that it is."

  "You are the King's loyal subject, servant and friend, are you not? So men say. And he needs such, in this case. Does he not, sir?"

  Spreading his hands, he bowed before her urgency. "Very well -if needs I must."

  "I would come with you-but that would wholly arouse the Master's suspicions. Force his hand, perhaps. But I shall send messages of aught I hear. Warn you if there seems to be any sudden change. I have a, a helper in Her Grace's household. Even if I cannot be with you, we can act in concert"

  "So be it, Mistress. And you? Where will I reach you, if I require to?" "In the Master of Gray's lodging, here in Holyroodhouse.'' "Dear Heaven!" he said.

  "And, see you, sir-if we are to work thus close together, on His Grace's behalf, we can dispense with this Mistress Gray and Master Heriot, can we not? I have never found the name Mary to displease me."

  He smiled. "Your friend, my Lord Duke of Lennox, was gracious enough to be saying the same two nights ago. I told him that my friends call me Geordie."

  "Dear Vicky, he is a good judge. Though, to be sure, it will not be easy to call the richest man in Scotland Geordie " "Am I that?" "So men do say. Are they wrong?"

  "Say that more men owe me money than any other in Scotland! I think it is scarce the same thing!"

  4

  IT IS EIGHTEEN miles from Edinburgh to Linlithgow in West Lothian, on the road to Stirling, and George Heriot and his grooms, getting away from Holyroodhouse again without hindrance, required less than four hours, even in darkness, to reach it. So they halted at the little wayside kirk of Binning, tied their horses to tombstones, and rolled themselves in their cloaks to sleep on the floor within. If the grooms thought it sacrilegious, Heriot did not

  In the event, they overslept despite the hardness of the beaten-earth floor, for they were all bone-weary with long riding. Heriot left a silver groat between the leaves of the pulpit bible to mystify the minister, and moved on to Linlithgow town to breakfast, also to shave, before presenting himself at the gatehouse of the brown stone palace up on its green eminence above the wimpling loch in the sunny, breezy, April mid-morning.

  He had no difficulty in getting past the guard, for all the Queen's household knew him. He had been the Queen's jeweller since 1597 and only later entered the King's service also. Anne was not the easiest person to deal with, any more than was her husband; but Heriot was grateful to her, for it was undoubtedly through her patronage and influence that he had become not only jeweller but banker to a large part of the aristocracy of Scotland. His father before him, of the Heriots of Trabroun, had been a prosperous Edinburgh goldsmith and burgess, but it was George's connection with the Court which had brought the real wealth.

  Queen Anne had her own Court, smaller but almost independent of her husband's-for the truth was that they got on only indifferently well together. It would, indeed, have required the patience and forbearance of a saint to put up with James Stewart, in matrimony-and Anne of Holstein was far from saintly, or even patient. She was moody, extravagant, pleasure-loving and strong-willed-but also she was essentially kind-hearted, even generous, and straightforward. A daughter of the vehement, restless but autocratic Frederick the Second of Denmark, she took but ill to many of James's ideas on both monarchy and matrimony.

  In the royal quarters of the handsome, quadrangular palace, much older than Holyroodhouse, Heriot was informed that the Queen was still abed. He was not surprised, for frequently she did not stir before midday-partly it was suggested in protest against the King's habit of rising, and rousing the palace, in the early hours of the morning, to indulge in his passion for hunting. Also, she not infrequently had been dancing or otherwise enjoying herself until much the same hour. Now, of course, she was seven months pregnant and so had ample excuse.

  Heriot requested that his presence be made known to her, if she was waking, nevertheless.

  A large Junoesque lady with a magnificent figure and a smouldering, sensual look to her, presently swept in to him, in the anteroom. "Why, here is a surprise, Master Heriot!" she cried. "How came you here? We-Her Grace thought you in London. With her husband. As did I, with mine! Have you been dismissed, sent back, like the rest of us? Do not say that Jinglin' Geordie Heriot is no longer required by our odd liege lord?"

  The man was careful how he answered that-however used he was becoming to the question. For this woman was thought by many to be a spy for King James. Certainly the Queen so reckoned her and cordially loathed her. But she could not get rid of her. She was indeed, in theory, her principal Lady in Waiting, maintained in that position by the King's direct orders. Nevertheless, Heriot had doubts about whose spy she might be-if any- tending rather to consider her a choice of the Master of Gray, who liked this sort of woman, while James certainly did not

  "Sent back, yes, my lady-but, I think and hope, not dismissed," he said. "His Grace merely entrusted me with a message for the Queen."

  "Indeed! An important message, surely, for the King to use the richest man in Scotland as his messenger?"

  "That is a title I cannot claim. Indeed, I dare swear that your ladyship could buy me out twice over and scarce notice the cost!"

  'You are too modest, sir. But then, you always were almost over-modest-seeming, were you not? I like a man who knows his worth! And I think you are… very worthy! In more than just money, Master George!" She came quite close as she said that, and there was no mistaking the hint of conditional promise and invitation in her throaty, deep voice.

  "I am flattered, Duchess," he said, meeting her sultry and at the same time overbearing gaze. "I know my worth to within a pound or two. And yours sufficiently to recognise that you have no need for such as me!" "I said in more than money, friend." "Knowing my own worth, lady, includes knowing that George Heriot without his money, would be worth-that!" And he snapped his fingers. "Even to kindly disposed duchesses!"

  She frowned frankly, drawing away a little. Her voice colder, she asked; 'The King? He is well? No mischance sent you back?" "None." "No tidings disturb His Grace?" "Should there be, lady?"

  "Stop fencing with me, man!" The Duchess of
Lennox was not a subtle woman-she did not have to be. "I am not some simpering miss to be foxed with words. Or the lack of them I What brings you back to Scotland, to Linlithgow, so soon? If you are not dismissed? If there is nothing amiss?"

  The man thought quickly. Would anyone so devious and careful as the Master of Gray use such a matter-of-fact minion as this? James might-but in that case the Duchess was no danger. Moreover, she was one of the greatest heiresses in the land, a bride found for the Duke of Lennox two or three years before, while they were both under-age; if she anybody's spy, it was not for payment-at least, not for money. He had no wish to make an enemy of anyone so powerful, and wife of the Duke-although she was only that in name, their marriage forced on them, and his affections wholly centred on Mary Gray.

  "The King grew concerned that Her Grace might require aid, guidance, possibly money," he said carefully, but less stiffly. "He chose to send me, with his messages and instructions, as perhaps able to supply such, in some measure."

  She eyed him directly, ponderingly, for a moment, and then shrugged. 'To be sure, Her Grace always requires money I And guidance! As to aid, is there especial need?"

  "I hope not If so, I have yet to discover it. Has your ladyship anything of the sort in mind?"

  The tables turned, she shook her head. "She is troubled at not being able to see her son. But that is nothing new. And she is, of course, seven months gone with child…" She turned, as a young woman came into the antechamber. "Knock before you enter, girl!" she snapped. "I would have done, had I known that your ladyship was with the gentleman." The newcomer dipped the merest sketch of a curtsy to the Duchess. There was nothing pert or unsuitable about it, but undoubtedly her answer had been quick and could have borne more than one shade of meaning. She beamed an almost impish smile on the man. "Her Grace is ready to receive you, Master Heriot," she added.

  The Duchess drew a deep breath, to raise her splendid bosom, opened her lips to speak and then thought better of it With a glare at the girl and a mere nod at Heriot, she swept out of the room as proudly as she had entered. The man cleared his throat, blinking his surprise.

  The girl was very young to have got rid of so formidable a lady, little more than a child indeed, of a slim, boyish figure, great lively eyes, not really pretty but with a gamin attractiveness and a most engaging and ready smile. "This way, if you please," she invited.

  "H'mm. You are surprisingly, er, effective, young woman," he said. "You accomplished in two moments what I had been unable to do in ten minutes!"

  She grinned widely, showing excellent, regular teeth. 'The Duchess is perhaps less successful with her own sex than she is with yours, sir!"

  "Indeed " Absorbing the implications of this, and from a chit of a girl who looked scarcely past school age, Heriot followed her out into the arras-hung corridor. "You are new in the Queen's service, I think? In fact, I am sure of it I would scarce have overlooked you, i' faith!"

  "Yes, sir. I am Her Grace's newest Maid-in-Waiting. Alison Primrose by name."

  'Primrose? That is not a common name. Are you sib to James Primrose, Clerk to the Privy Council, perhaps?"

  "My she, sir. As he is to eighteen others!" And her laugh rang out along the corridor, clear and uninhibited.

  "Ah." Heriot had heard of the little lawyer's abounding brood -no doubt an excellent whetstone on which this child had had to sharpen her wits and polish her assurance.

  She seemed to read his thoughts. "After my family, Mistress Gray told the Queen that I would find her service but little trouble," she confided. "Duchesses and countesses the least of it!" "Mistress Gray? She was in this?"

  "Why yes, sir. She is my good friend. And has no little weight with Her Grace."

  So this was Mary Gray's contact within the Queen's household? As adept as her father, probably, at gaining information and influencing events-a shrewder choice than the Duchess of Lennox, for sure. He would keep an eye on Alison Primrose-and no great hardship, either.

  A blast of hot and distinctly stuffy air met him as the girl threw open the door of the royal bedchamber and announced him cheerfully.

  The large room was as untidy as it was overheated, with a huge log fire blazing in a twelve-feet-wide open hearth, despite the warm April morning, clothes, furs and women's things littered everywhere, chests open and spilling, small dogs squabbling and yapping, and the great bed itself a heap of disarranged linen, covers and pillows, in which Anne and two dogs sat.

  "Master Geordie, good Master Geordie!" the Queen cried, in the thick and guttural accent she never quite lost. "Why you are come I do not know. But you are welcome. It is good to see an honest man's face, a man I can trust" And she extended a be-ringed hand to him, over the dogs and bedclothes.

  He bowed deeply and moved forward to take and kiss the outstretched hand.

  George Heriot was a noticing man, but he did not have to be to wonder what the Queen had been doing while he waited for her to be ready to receive him. For her long hair was still in an uncombed cascade about her shoulders, and under the loose and gaping purple bed-robe she was most evidently entirely naked, her swollen breasts and distended belly very visible and not particularly enticing. Admittedly she wore bracelets as well as the many rings, which flashed with diamonds, rubies and sapphires-of Heriot's own providing-but they might well have been on all night. She was a thin-faced, sharp-eyed, long-nosed and chinned young woman, still only twenty-seven, with a high brow, not beautiful but with a very white alabaster skin, a lively manner and an air of breeding. Heriot noticed something else. The pillows and bedclothes to the Queen's left clearly showed that she had had a bedfellow until very recently. He did not really suspect it to have been a man.

  "You may go, Primrose," Anne said, and the girl bowed herself out. There was however a faint hint of movement, of a presence, from an open-doored dressing-room adjoining.

  "I rejoice to see Your Grace. And looking well," the man said. "I bring you a letter from the King. Also messages of His Grace's love and warm attachment His wishes that all should go most well with your affairs."

  The Queen took the proffered letter but dropped it on the covers. "His Grace is but little concerned with my well-being, I think," she said briefly. "That is not why he sent you, I swear."

  "H'rr'mm. Your Grace must not think that. It is wholly because of his thought and care for you that I am here, I promise you…"

  "Has he sent orders for my son Frederick to be delivered to me? From that wicked old woman. My first-born. Only if he has will I believe in his love and attachment, Master Geordie."

  Heriot cleared his throat. "Er, not yet. Not exactly that, Madam…"

  'Then his messages are of no interest to me!" Passionately she said it. "He is a cruel and wicked man, and no true husband. How can he separate a mother from her children so? He is a monster, a heartless monster!"

  "Your Grace-he is none so ill as that! Because Prince Henry is heir to the throne, the King is concerned lest men of ill will lay hands on him, use him for their own ends, against the Crown. As indeed they did to himself, as a boy. At Ruthven. He cannot have that to happen. So he keeps him in the secure fortress of Stirling, in the care of the Mars. Lady Mar was his own foster-mother, her son, the present Earl, the King's oldest friend, almost as good as a brother…"

  "And both of them hate me, the Queen! Frederick's mother." It was one of the oddities of the Scottish Court that the Queen Insisted that her older son was named Frederick, after her father the King of Denmark, while James named him Henry as gesture towards Elizabeth and her father Henry the Eighth, in his gropings towards the coveted English succession. Which had come first at the christening, only Bishop Cunningham of Aberdeen knew for sure, who had diplomatically mumbled the names. "Highness-I do believe that you mistake. It is not so…"

  "You think not? Then why will the woman not allow me to see my son? In Stirling Castle. Deny me, the Queen I Her son Mar is with the King, in England. And she forbids me I My little Frederick-in that she-devil's clu
tch!"

  Heriot drew a deep breath, and came to a decision. He lowered his voice, glancing towards the open dressing-room door. "Madam -have you had any word of a move to, er, take your son out of Stirling Castle?"

  "What Jeg forstar ikke. Hvad er der i den? Take him? Who? When? What is this?" She leaned forward urgently, uncaring for her more fully displayed nakedness.

  Satisfied that Anne, who was no dissembler nor actress, could by no means fabricate this surprise and eagerness, he went on. "Has the Master of Gray had word with Your Grace? Or the Mistress Mary, indeed?"

  "Gray? Saints protect us-if that man is in it, then no good will come of it. He is, I believe, the Devil himself!"

  "So I have heard others declare. Your Grace knows nothing of this?"

  "How should I know? The Master of Gray does not confide his plots to me! What is it? What has my son to do with it?"

  "Highness-there is someone in your dressing-room. I can hear it. What I have to say is not for other ears…"

  "Mercy-it is only Henrietta! My good confidante and bedfellow." She raised her voice. "Hetty, sweeting-come. I have no secrets from Hetty." A tall, pale young woman came out, rather guiltily, her bed-robe wrapped considerably more tightly around her than was the Queen's, pretty in an anaemic way, Henrietta Stewart, Marchioness of Huntly, sister of the Duke of Lennox.

  Heriot bowed. He was not as relieved as he might have been. For this young woman, brought from France to marry Scotland's premier Catholic noble, the Gordon chief, George first Marquis of Huntly, was herself strongly Catholic, a notable entertainer of Jesuits and credited with seeking to turn the Queen to the old religion. And, according to Mary Gray, the Master looked for support for his plot from the Catholics. She had even named Huntly, himself a notorious schemer.

  "Hetty-you know Master Heriot?" Anne said. "My true servant and friend." The other nodded, silent

  "I know her ladyship's husband, my lord of Huntly," the man said. "We have had, h'm, dealings."