Unicorn Rampant (10 page)

So here, to everyone's relief, the Provost and magistrates contented themselves with presenting an ode of welcome in Latin. James glanced at it, pointed out an error in construction in the second line, declared ominously that he would peruse the rest at his leisure, thrust it at Ludovick and spurred off up the cobblestoned hill for the castle, to the cheers of the citizenry.

Stirling Castle, although superficially so like that of Edinburgh, was in fact very different. Crowning a similar mighty rock it was smaller in area but an even stronger place, all but impregnable. Where Edinburgh's was a citadel, almost a town in itself on its hilltop, with palace, mansions, halls, a chapel, barracks, armourers', blacksmiths' and other workshops, even its own alehouses, Stirling's was much fined down to essentials. There was a small palace, where James was headed, but it would not hold many of his entourage. It had been all that he knew of home, for most of his childhood—save when he had been captured by this ambitious lord or that and held hostage in their various strongholds.

In these circumstances the Countess of Mar had to act hostess to many of the company. The Earls of Mar had their own private mansion, almost a palace indeed, not in the castle itself but halfway up the hill thereto, a much finer house than the royal one, known as Mar's Wark. Here some of the more illustrious guests were installed. Although Mary Gray and her son were scarcely to be so described, the Countess invited them into her own personal apartments, where it was hoped that her brother would join them presently. The rest of the company had to find what lodging they could in the town, with the usual outcry.

Ludovick arrived quite soon, explaining that James, feeling disinclined for more feasting, was settling down to another night's hard drinking, with Johnny Mar, who was a notable toper, and a few other cronies. Not being able to face two consecutive doses of this, the Duke had managed to make his escape. It had been like this all the way north from London, he revealed. James had a phenomenal capacity for liquor, although no one could remember ever having seen him drunk. But tonight it would not be wines or ale that they were drinking but spirits, the potent Scots
uisge-beatha.
the water of life. Heaven alone knew what would be the effect on those unused to it—Steenie Villiers, for instance.

Buckingham was, of course, a subject for discussion, and all were eager to hear John's account of his finding and restoration to his master's embrace. That young man was uneasy about telling all, even to these three, in view of Villiers' charge not to inform the King as to details; but his elders assured that it would go no further than themselves— and, besides, James undoubtedly would piece together the story for himself, sooner or later, for he was an expert interrogator, having, as it were, served his apprenticeship in the witch-trials, first in Scotland then in England. So all was revealed to his father, mother and aunt.

In the consequent mirth and jollity, John was surprised to find himself actually defending George Villiers, after a fashion. He declared that it was scarcely to be wondered at if he broke out occasionally from his wretched role of royal lap-dog; and at least this had shown that he was sufficiently masculine and normal at heart—if heart was the correct location. The women, with their instinctive hatred of catamites, would have none of this, asserting that if so this all made Villiers' shameless behaviour with James the more reprehensible, a young man deliberately corrupting himself for royal favour, power and influence. It was getting to the stage where, like the late and unlamented Carr, Earl of Somerset, almost all office and privilege had to be sought through the favour of this infamous youth. He was no better than a disaster, and a sickening one.

The Duke took a somewhat different view. While disliking the favourite and all he stood for, he claimed that he was not necessarily a disaster—as admittedly Carr had been. He was more intelligent, for one thing, and less vain, and so far had not been responsible for any very grievous developments. He was, to be sure, being manipulated by the powerful and ambitious men who had groomed him and brought him to James's notice; but it would be a mistake to underestimate the King's own part in the matter. Almost everyone consistently failed to recognise James's shrewdness. He looked a fool and sounded a fool—and was not. Deliberately he set out to be underestimated, the better to work his will. This habit of dealing through favourites was a device, a premeditated policy. It fell in with his peculiar tastes and fondnesses; but he used those, as he used all else, to further his own purposes as ruler. All was planned. James ruled alone, all but an absolute monarch. Parliament—the English Parliament—wa
s hostile and kept him permanentl
y short of money, refusing to impose his taxation. He had suffered, in Scotland, from over-powerful lords and factions; and when he went to England he found the same there, for during Elizabeth's later years she had allowed the Cecils and the Howards to usurp almost all the powers of government. James had been changing all that. It was extraordinary what he had achieved against entrenched privilege and influence. His policy had been to work through middlemen and nonentities, not the great nobles—hence the Cokes and Egertons, the Cranfields and Mostons and the rest. And this of deliberately using favourites through which such could be brought to him and, as it were, strained and filtered for consideration, was all part of the plan. The great lords would not so demean themselves. James had worked out various ways of keeping them down, without resort to armed might as had done previous kings. This was one. Also, of the bribes and payments which Steenie and his like collected for their favours, some substantial proportion found its way into the royal pocket, kept empty by parliament. Those who judged James Stewart witless were themselves the fools.

The ladies were not wholly convinced but John grew the more intrigued by their peculiar liege-lord. He asked many questions. When the talk veered to more personal matters, especially about certain affairs at Methven, he it was who sought more than once to bring it back to King James. But his aunt was incurably romantic and persisted with her hints and allusions. When at length she lost patience with John's parrying, she came out with it bluntly.

"What of Janet Drummond?" she demanded.

Her nephew feigned surprise. "You mean Madderty's daughter? I have not been to Innerpeffray for some time, so do not know. Is she a friend of yours?"

"Her mother and I are acquainted. She tells me of
J
anet."

"Then you are probably better informed as to her health than am I, Countess." That was almost curt.

The Duke looked from one to the other, head aslant. "Do I detect something here that I perhaps should know?" he wondered.

"No," his son said briefly.

"Johnnie is keeping his cards close to his chest!" Lady Mar said. "Perhaps it is his new knighthood?" "Damn the knighthood!"

Mary Gray came to her son's rescue. "It is no great matter," she said lightly. "John has been seeing something of Janet Drummond—amongst other young women, to be sure. She is grown uncommon attractive. John is not the only one who has noticed it, for she has half the young men of Strathearn agog, even young Perth himself. That is all."

"Ah. Well, something of the sort had to happen, sooner or later. Do I take it that you are scarcely a front-runner, lad?"

"The knighthood might help, you know," the Countess suggested.

"The matter is of no moment and I would prefer not to discuss it," the young man declared. "What, sir, are the arrangements for tomorrow?"

Ludovick grinned, nodding. "Very well, so. Tomorrow our liege starts the day with gunfire! Then we cross the bridge and proceed along Forthside eastwards to Culross, where Bruce receives us at the abbey, with unspecified delights. Then on to Dunfermline for the night, at Fyvie the Chancellor's charges. The next day to Falkland for the hunting—where pray God we can break loose and come to Methven."

"We?
So John goes too?" Mary asked.

"Oh, yes. James will expect it. John is for the moment part of the court, and none can leave court without permission."

"Well, I can! I am not part of his circus, Heaven be praised! I shall make for Methven tomorrow. I can expect you there, then, in three days or four?"

"I would hope so, yes. But James is ever unpredictable."

"Oh, for the day when you are no longer dependent on the whims of that so clever crowned clown!"

"Let us just be thankful that James is not very interested in women, my dear," the Countess said. "So we are not thus hobbled! Myself, I shall bide here until they all come back— and my royal cousin will never notice."

"Be not so sure," her brother said. "Not much escapes those great hart's eyes."

Stirling was rudely awakened early next morning to the incessant crash of cannon-fire, which seemed to come from directly above, like a thunderstorm, so steeply under the castle-rock crouched the town. Presumably, if any ball was fired, on this occasion, it fell into the pools and marshes of Forth. To this din they breakfasted and all too quickly, when it ceased, had to take hurried leave of the ladies to join the royal retinue which came jingling down the hill on the way to Stirling Bridge. No crowds saw them off at this unsuitable hour—with two-thirds of the entourage missing besides.

Across the ancient bridge and on to the causeway through the wetlands beyond, the King drew rein and treated the early-morning company to a lengthy exposition on William Wallace's famous battle fought here and the grievous English failures which brought about their defeat. However unwelcome to most there, this at least enabled the late-risers and stragglers to catch up. Thereafter, at Causeway
-
head they turned eastwards to head past Cambuskenneth to the north shore of the quickly-widening estuary.

It was some eleven miles, by Alloa, Clackmannan and Kincardine-on-Forth, to Culross, a small whitewashed, red-roofed town and harbour, where the venerable St Serf had established his Celtic abbey at the end of the sixth century—which abbey, Romanised to the Cistercian Order, had passed to the Bruce family at the Reformation. Now Sir George Bruce, with many West Fife gentlemen, met them at the approaches to the town, a round, bustling little man of middle years, genial and laughter-loving, far from typical of the Scots aristocracy. Indeed, he was exceptional in more than manner and appearance; for he was one of the greatest traders and merchant-venturers in the land—and would have been roundly despised and shunned by the gentry, in consequence, had it not been for his undeniable descent from kin of the hero-king Robert. He had taken over, as a going concern, the extensive coal-mines and salt-pans of the monks of
Culross
and had, with a lively business-sense and no nonsense about the unsuitability of making money
from
trade, developed and amplified these industries to a notable degree, as well as adding new ones, so that now he was one of the richest men in Scotland. He had built up a vast overseas traffic in coal and salt, in ironware and salted-
herring
and
other
items, to the extent that as many as 170 vessels at a time had been counted in and lying off Culross harbour. Even this May noonday there were fully fifty ships there.

James, always preoccupied with money, the lack of which had haunted him all his days, was much concerned to discover how Bruce seemed to be able more or less to coin it; and at the same time to seek to devise means by which he might be separated from some substantial part of his gains. The crowded shipping impressed him, although he did not fail to point out that he misliked and distrusted sea-going vessels; and the unsightly heaps of slag from the mines drew the shrewd comment that, though they looked like the Devil
's
ordure, if all this waste material was to be dumped out in the shallower waters of the estuary there, in the form of artificial reefs, then the area within could be drained and reclaimed, to provide new land for salt-pans, abstracted from the evil sea—a triumph for God and man against Satanicus, as he put it. Sir George, blinking, promised to consider this. But meantime would His Majesty care to honour his poor house at the abbey for a light repast? They could examine the possibilities of the mines and salt-pans later perhaps?

Majesty graciously agreed—but first elected to inform the company that it was fell suitable that this small bit atomy of his ancient kingdom should flourish as a hot-bed and
f
ons et origo
of industry and indefatigation—
perfervidum ingenium.
For was it not from here that the excellent St Serf—more properly St Servanus, mind—had sent forth the laddie Kentigernus or Mungo, with a bit cart drawn by two wild bulls, unchancy brutes, to found the city of Glasgow on the Clyde, whose industriosity thereafter was an ensample to all.
Forti et
fidele nihil difficile!
Mind, Glasgow's fair operoseness was the more commendacious in that the place was over near to the territories of the deplorable Hamiltons. Having delivered himself of this profound observation, the monarch, with a glance around to see if any Hamiltons, in especial the Secretary of State, were within hearing, set off for the proffered refreshment at the Abbey House.