The Gowrie Conspiracy (9 page)

Taking advantage of the yet another perfect day, Tam
headed
towards the wooded banks of the Maspie burn; less exposed than its parent river. Settling down with fishing rod and basket, he was ready to dive out of sight behind the
nearest
tree should any sound reach his ears to indicate the approach of any unwelcome visitor, in particular King James and his retinue.

On the day before the Masque, the body of Margaret Agnew was laid to rest in the kirkyard. In the absence of any kin, her plain wooden coffin was followed by Tam, Tansy and a few of the queen’s serving-maids.

Cautious mention of her name to little Jane had aroused no recognition. Clearly her uncle’s liaison was unknown to her, but during the minister’s short service of committal, Tam looked around wondering whether Davy Rose knew of her death or if her killer lurked out of sight, watching the scene.

If so, then Tam concluded that he must be doing so with some satisfaction, certain that he was safe from discovery.

The motive for her murder was being buried in the grave with her, the mystery forever unsolved by Tam Eildor.

There were more pressing mysteries in the court, concerning Tam Eildor himself, under serious investigation by Sandy Kay, on behalf of Ludovick Stewart, Duke of Lennox. His efforts had led him as far as the Peebles area where heads were shaken. None had ever heard of the family of Eildor, or of Tam of that ilk. With his riders, Kay had travelled two days and nights and returned to Falkland exhausted and frustrated by his lack of success.

Lennox, however, willingly handed over the promised purse not, as Kay had feared, angry or concerned at this failure. He was in fact quietly triumphant and hastened to
tactfully
warn James that Tam Eildor should be arrested
immediately
and thrown into prison as impostor and spy.

James was not grateful. He did not command Eildor’s arrest forthwith. Glaring balefully at Lennox, he shouted, ‘A spy, ye say, Vicky. On what grounds d’ ye come by that assumption?’

‘He is unknown in Peebles, whence he informed Your Grace was his home. Nor is there any family by the name of Eildor. My men have searched high and low.’

‘Have they now, Vicky. On whose orders?’ James’s voice was soft but Lennox recognised the danger signals.

‘On my orders, sire,’ he blustered. ‘But for the good cause of Your Grace’s safety and the well-being of your kingdom,’ he added piously.

‘Is that so? Our safety eh?’ And James stabbed a grubby finger
in Lennox’s chest. ‘Then let us be the one to decide such matters – who is for our good cause.’

‘But, Your Grace, this man is unknown … I beseech you – ’

‘A meenit, if you please, Vicky,’ said the king sternly. ‘Let us consider this a wee meenit. Master Eildor is unknown, we grant ye that. But so are most of our subjects.’ And, wagging a finger at him, ‘No’ everyone has the advantage o’ your own high breeding, Vicky. Master Eildor is a fisherman, a humble but loyal citizen, honest – aye, honest.’ Pausing he sighed, smiled a little, and added sternly, ‘That is why we are drawn to him.’

Lennox bit back queries on that subject as James went on, ‘Why should one o’ my humble but loyal subjects be kenned in the castles on the Tweed with which our nobler subjects are acquainted, eh?’

This was a question to which Lennox had no quick answer as James shrugged huffily and continued in a tone of extreme irritation, ‘Use what sense the Guid Lord gied ye, Vicky – and dinna weary us wi’ your nonsense.’

‘But, sire, this Eildor is no ordinary humble citizen. He is – educated. He speaks well. He is possibly in the pay of your enemies, sent to spy on you.’

‘Then bring those enemies to us and we will know how to deal with them,’ said James wearily.

Such an irrational statement was beyond Lennox but the king’s grinning signal to John Ramsay lurking nearby
indicated
that the audience was over and that he was dismissed.

Bowing, he withdrew, his mind working rapidly,
considering
what to do next in the face of the king’s lamentable
infatuation
with Tam Eildor.

Lennox was not finished, not by any means.

Nor, it happened, was Sandy Kay, who had some plans of his own for the queen’s Masque, lured by the promise of a handsome purse once he dealt with Tansy Scott, the
burdensome
estranged wife of Walt Murray.

On the day before the queen’s Masque, Tam awoke with the first light of dawn a tiny grey square in the high window of his room. Fully awake and aware that he would not sleep again, he dressed and went quickly down the spiral stair and out into the gardens where mist clung to trees and lay like a white shroud across the widespread lawns.

The sundial proclaimed the day but a few hours old and the sun’s red orb rising above the hills forecast another hot day. Very soon these peaceful stretches of smooth grass would be a mass of servants preparing the stage for tomorrow evening.

Meanwhile, barring a few birds on early morning forage who paused to give him wary looks and a few inquisitive squirrels, it seemed Tam had the gardens and the peaceful scene to himself.

Not quite. The sound of girlish laughter nearby. Tam looked round. Could this be some of the village children
having
a very early rehearsal for their roles in the pageant?

At this hour, he thought bitterly, resentful of his lost moments of tranquility. Deciding to keep well out of sight and move to another part of the garden, the little girls
suddenly
emerged from the mist just a dozen yards away.

Five of them; the tallest in front, the other four behind her. They were playing with a ball, throwing it to each other and dressed for the evening pageant in the costume and
headdress
of an earlier reign.

The tall one saw him first. A movement of her hand. Her companions stopped, the ball thrust guiltily out of sight.

Their leader, for such she must be, smiled at him and the four girls curtseyed, a pretty flower-like assembly of
spreading
skirts across the dewy grass.

Tam bowed. When he raised his gaze, they had
disappeared
.

Shaking his head, Tam made his way back to his lodging. Tansy would know why the children had been sent for so early, dragged out of bed before dawn.

However Tansy was in no mood to discuss anything so trivial. A rider had arrived late last night with a letter from Will who was now at Dirleton Castle in East Lothian with Lady Gowrie. Her daughter, Beatrix, had been given special permission from Queen Anne to attend a wedding and her mother had taken ill soon afterwards. Good-hearted Will had immediately offered to escort them back to Perth and he had persuaded Martin Hailes to accompany them for a short visit to his home at Kirktillo.

‘I feel certain that the old gentleman’s health will benefit greatly from a change of air and there are estate matters which would do better from his personal attention.’

Will had observed that Martin was looking older and more tired since they last met in Edinburgh and had not recovered from the loss of his beloved wife of many years. Aware of his reluctance to travel, Will was agreeably surprised that no
persuasion
was needed. Indeed, Martin appeared eager and grateful for the suggestion.

Had Will been of a suspicious nature, he would have regarded this with surprise. For if truth were told, Tam Eildor was the main reason for Martin’s visit. His object: to find some answer to Will’s extraordinary insistence that this was the same man who had visited his granddam at Morham yet did not look a day older than at their first meeting more than thirty years ago.

In conclusion, the letter begged Tansy’s forgiveness for his unavoidable absence from the Masque and assured her of his boundless devotion.

Tansy threw down Will’s letter. She had another reason for anger. Earlier that day she had received another letter, borne by a former servant of her husband Walt Murray, that “our
cousin at Tullibardine is to wed in early August.” The letter went on that Tansy’s presence was her wifely duty on this occasion, hinting that whatever the differences between them, it was essential that they present an agreeable
appearance
of marital harmony before the assembled family.

Tansy scowled angrily. The suggestion hinted obliquely at a public reconciliation and little as she cared for that odious idea, she realised that she had very little option but to obey her estranged but legal husband’s command.

If Walt decided to reclaim his conjugal rights, even for one night under his family’s roof and before their friends, then the law was on his side. If Tansy refused her wifely duty then she was trapped indeed.

And if Walt had King James’s ear on the matter, His Grace, eager to be rid of her, would doubtless find some loophole by which she might find herself imprisoned for the rest of her life.

Tansy would have been even less happy had she known that the messenger bearing the letter, Sandy Kay – a servant of the Duke of Lennox who was no friend of Tam’s either – was also being paid by her husband to spy on her.

All unknowing, she was the fly in the centre of a
particularly
nasty spider’s web.

Tam, returning depressed from another useless visit to David Rose’s empty house, the mystery of Mistress Agnew’s murder still weighing heavily upon his mind, found Tansy very despondent indeed.

Questioned, her annoyance at Will’s failure to return in time for the Masque had first place. ‘You heard him, Tam. You must realise that any excuse would serve his purpose.’

Tam, having decided to tactfully absent himself from that event, found that it was his turn to be faced with opposition.

‘Since Will cannot be present, then you must escort me.’

‘Not I, Tansy,’ said Tam. ‘It is my firm intention to keep well out of His Grace’s way.’

He hated refusing and letting her down but the whole
business
of the royal orgy, which he had already guessed would be the climax of the queen’s Masque, had no appeal for him. Especially if this included the attentions of a lustful king. In that respect he had reasons of his own for depression, having just heard by royal command that he was to prepare to take up residence in His Grace’s apartments within the next few days.

Passing this information on to Tansy, he expected more concern but, preoccupied with her own troubles, she merely murmured sympathetically.

Determined that Tam should accompany her to the
sewing-room
, he gave in, weakly eager to depart. ‘Very well, if you insist. But I go as myself or not at all.’

Opening the door, all hands were busily engaged on assembling costumes and gathering pleated ruffs, where the smell of hot irons gave rise to less pleasant visions associated with the torture chamber.

From the table, Tansy took a fine linen shirt and a pair of new breeches.

Thanking her as she laid them across his arm, she pointed to the diminutive figure who smiled at them from her seat at the far end of the table. ‘For the shirt you have Jane to thank.’

And as Tam bowed and blew her a kiss, Tansy laughed, ‘You could not find a better or a faster seamstress anywhere.’

Matilda came in the door flourishing a doublet and looking anxious.

‘Mistress Scott, I cannot wear this. The colour – the shape –’

‘A moment, Lady Matilda, and you will have my full
attention
,’ said Tansy leading Tam into the parlour.

‘Matilda is but one of many this morning. Like a huge tidal wave they sweep through the sewing-room all day with their complaints, their alarms and skirmishes. Little Jane has been a treasure. A great find – she sews neatly and quickly and I have no doubt that a place will be found for. Her future is
assured.’

Tam was relieved to be free of that responsibility at least, as Tansy continued enthusiastically, ‘She has a natural flair for designing new garments and adornments. Now I must leave you…’ and she hurried back to her work.

The court held their breaths as the hot spell continued. Would it hold for two more days? Prayers were said in the royal chapel. Elsewhere, however, the weather’s pastoral
perfection
did not have echoes in the queen’s apartments.

King James was affronted by his wife’s decision to hold the event outdoors, having decided on the Long Gallery as a
setting
. The queen knew of this and had taken advantage of his aversion to the elements of nature, over which he had no
control
.

‘Twill rain, that’s certain sure, Annie. We will all be drowned, the costumes ruined, the food spoiled.’

Anne’s pleasant gentle smile masked the knowledge that her royal husband’s nervous humour was ever alert to the impossibility of securing every corner of the royal gardens. In particular against assassins lurking in the dusk, awaiting their chance to strike, screened by high hedges and the branches of tall stout trees.

‘Think a wee meenit on all yon fireworks, Annie. Costly, aye, verra costly to our royal purse. An unnecessary expense to be doused in water – ’

Most of all James hated fireworks. Their brilliant display he regarded as his precious treasury going up in flames while their loud noises completely unnerved him, suggesting an assassin’s pistol at his ear.

The queen listened impatiently, quite unmoved by his pleas. His Grace was forced to gloomily remember that
pregnancy
always made her more peevish than usual.

‘We have planned our Masque to the last detail, sire. We cannot change one item of it now, regardless of the weather. Which we are assured will last for another week.’

As James continued to argue, bombarding her with his
odious
Latin quotations about wifely obedience and so forth, which floated over her head and out beyond the palace
windows
, she was secretly delighted. Once again she had
succeeded
in paying him back for keeping her dear children from her in the royal nursery at Stirling Castle under the protection of the formidable and utterly heartless Countess of Mar.

There was more to come.

This was not the sole reason for James’s informal morning visit.

Observing his tendency to linger, Anne inclined her head and turned away, a gesture indicating dismissal.

‘Aye, there is another wee matter, Annie.’ When he remained firmly seated, staring at her and biting his lip, she hoped that this was not the preliminary to one of their rare copulations.

Her apprehensive expression invited explanation and clearing his throat rather noisily, James said, ‘We have arranged for Master Eildor to take up lodging in our
apartment
.’

Relief gave way to anger. So Master Eildor was still the object of his most recent interest. Coldly, she decided he would get no help from her in this matter either.

‘As Gentleman of the Bedchamber?’ she said acidly.

‘Aye, mebbe that,’ was the careful reply.

Anne gave him a look of thinly disused disgust as both remembered the incident involving Alexander, Master of Ruthven. Two years ago he had been elevated from the Queen’s Household to just such an appointment, with
disastrous
results.

James shifted uncomfortably under his wife’s gaze as,
turning
away, she said coldly, ‘We cannot allow that to happen again. Master Eildor is one of our most trusted and valued servants.’

‘Is he now?’ James banged his fists together. ‘Our word upon yours, Annie, is that it?’

‘We must remind you, James, that our authority in our household over our servants is absolute,’ was the smooth reply, with emphasis on the word “our”.

James jumped to his feet and pointed a grubby finger at her. ‘Ye defy us, madam, is that the way of it?’

Anne stared stolidly towards the window as he continued:

‘Are ye telling us that ye will no’ release Master Eildor?’

‘That is so,’ she said coldly but firmly.

James continued to stare at her biting his lip. ‘And for why, Annie?’ He paused giving her a crafty glance. ‘This servant – ye’re no’ surely intending taking him as a lover – as well.’

His mocking tone infuriated her. How dare he make such a suggestion! Suddenly a bellow of laughter, coarse and lewd. Looking at her he could hardly believe that any man would find this ungainly creature, never at her best in pregnancy, bedworthy. Especially a man of such splendid calibre and infinite delights as Tam Eildor.

The queen did not rise to his taunt, the slow movement of her head, the enigmatic fixed smile enraging him further.

Had she? Could she…

James had a sudden vision of Alexander Ruthven, a lad of sixteen, an enchanting face under a mass of red curls. His rival for the lad’s affection in this instance, none other than the queen herself. The lad had been found asleep in her
garden
, brazenly wearing as token of esteem the silk scarf James had given her.

Her sudden change of countenance told him that the shaft had gone home. Taking advantage of that, he said in solemn warning, ‘May we remind you, madam, that queens have lost their heads for less.’

It was Anne’s turn to laugh. ‘We think you would have some difficulty proving any such allegation against our virtue, James.’

Rising to her feet, she curtseyed awkwardly, ‘Sire, we beg leave to bid you good day.’ And without further word, she summoned her ladies who sat at a discreet distance. Now
gathering around her protectively, curtseying to the king, they ushered the queen into her bedchamber, leaving His Grace staring after them before stamping out in a fury.

In her bedchamber with the door closed safely behind her, Anne decided that James’s interest was not reciprocated by Master Eildor. Now that James wanted him she was more determined than ever that he should not have him.

Having sentimentally decided that Tam was enamoured of Tansy Scott, she frowned. That remarkable resemblance
hinted
at some strange bond. Perhaps they were long-lost
brother
and sister as her ladies suggested. How very tragic, the complications of an incestuous relationship.

Summoning Tam to her presence, she said, ‘His Grace wishes you to take lodging in the royal apartment. As Gentleman of the Bedchamber perhaps,’ she added,
straight-faced
.

Tam’s barely suppressed shudder was all the confirmation she needed.

He bowed. ‘Madam, His Grace is too kind but as I have told him, I am a humble fellow.’ Pausing to give her an
understanding
smile, ‘I am no cupbearer, quite unworthy of the honours His Grace wishes to bestow upon me. The idea
overwhelms
me.’ He shook his head and looked at her in mute appeal. ‘I do not know how to respond.’