Unicorn Rampant (31 page)

This subject seeming to dog him, John made noncommittal noises and reverted to the matter of Master Vandervyk at Dartford. Did His Majesty not think that this royal charter, which the man held from Queen Elizabeth, might present a problem?

The King agreed that steps would have to be taken to deal with it. He would consider the matter and decide what was to be done. Meanwhile, perhaps Johnnie Stewart should likewise do some considering on the subject of marriage and his future. After all, as Governor of Dumbarton, and who kenned what else might follow in time, he would look better as a married man, less of a laddie. Forby, the Hamiltons were a well-doing lot and could prove useful to have links with. Such matters deserved serious thought. Aye, and while he was at it, he should tell his ducal father that he too should be thinking about marrying again. He had no right heir to the royal dukedom, save for a brother in France whom nobody knew, and said to be an arrant Catholic at that! Which would not do. A lawful son was what was required. So Ludovick Stewart should marry again', some suitable woman to be a royal duchess. Yon Mary Gray was all very well for a concubine, but in bastardy she could not be a duchess.

Tight-lipped, John withdrew.

Later, indignantly, he passed on to his father the King's comments—without mentioning the marital advice to himself.

"Ah—so James was at that again, was he? He keeps reminding me," the Duke said, casually enough.

"You
would
not marry again, would you? Or . . . anyone but my mother?"

His father shrugged. "I have no desire to, John—-none at all. But, you know the position. Mary will not consider marrying me—never would. I suppose that she is right in that. It would not serve. For a royal duke. James would never accept it—have it annulled if we were to do it. The marriages of members of the royal family are subject to the King's authority, to be lawful. Yet James wants me to produce an heir to the dukedom. I am, after all, third in line of succession. Charles is not married yet—and his sire, who scarcely dotes on him, doubts whether he
could
produce a son! And Elizabeth, his only daughter, is wed to the German Elector Palatine, and James is by no means sure that his kingdoms would accept a German as heir to the throne. So it would much strengthen his dynastic position if
I,
a
Stewart, had a son born in wedlock."

"That may be so. But he cannot
make
you wed again!"

"Perhaps not. But he could make life very comfortless for me! He could strip me of revenues and position. He could banish me the realm, both realms. He has put folk in the Tower for less. He could even forfeit Methven, if so he thought fit. James may usually seem something of a simpleton and a figure-of-fun, but never forget that he has enormous power if he chooses to wield it. And, in a matter such as this, where his dynasty is concerned, I think that he would not hesitate."

"But you are his friend, as well as cousin . . ."

"True. He
might
spare me. But he would probably say that friendship should cut both ways—that
I,
as his friend, owe him this, owe the Stewart line this. That it would be no great sacrifice—he has already said so, more than once. It would be a marriage in name only, make no real difference to Mary and myself. . ."

"I say that it would."

"But then you, John, are prejudiced. And, shall we say, not greatly experienced. I would be making a new duchess, that is all. And, hopefully, an heir to the dukedom. I have had duchesses before, two of them, and they did not come between Mary and me."

"You are set on it, then?"

"No, I am not. But it looks as though James is. I would prefer not. And have nobody in mind. I can satisfy my bodily needs, whilst I am separated from Mary, readily enough without marriage. As, it seems, can you!"

A change of subject appeared to be advisable.

John reverted to the matter of Dumbarton. What was he to do with the man Middlemas?

The Duke shrugged again. "You must get rid of him, evidently."

"He declares that I will find that difficult. Claims that he holds a commission from you which secures his position."

"A commission granted can be revoked. Although you may have to pay him some compensation, since it is an office of profit—the tax-gathering. As he seems to be ensuring!"

"M'mm. How much? How much compensation?"

"Lord knows! That kind of man will ask much, I have no doubt. And you must needs beat him down."

"Why did you appoint such a man?"

"He was recommended by Johnnie Mar. And seemed none so ill, then. Myself being far away all these years, he has thought himself safe, no doubt. Perhaps I have been remiss. But I have over-many offices to grace! I am Lord High Admiral of Scotland—did you know that? Also Great Chamberlain. And Master of the Horse. Not to mention Keeper of the King's Falcons! Give me time and I will recollect others!"

"All of which bring you profit!"

"A little, lad—a little. Or, most of them."

Not for the first time John felt at odds with his father's attitude to life. "Do you find all this to your taste, admirable?" he demanded.

"Admirable? Perhaps not. But necessary, in the circumstances, John. The moneys and therefore the offices. I require all, for James's service is expensive—as you will find out! Parliament keeps him so short of money that he is in no state to pay his helpers and servants. So we must make what we can. A bad system—but the blame must lie with this English parliament."

John was not entirely convinced, but he returned to the problem of Dumbarton. "How do I set about getting rid of Middlemas?" he asked.

"Find a replacement. Someone whom you can trust with the task. Then send him to my Deputy-Sheriff of the Lennox, since Dumbarton is in the Lennox. That
is Robert Napier of Kilmahew. I
am Sheriff of the Lennox as well as Duke, and will write you an authority for Napier. He will then go to the castle and expel Middlemas and install your man."

"You make it sound simple," his son said, grimly. "I fear that it will be otherwise."

"Napier will have the authority. As Deputy-Sheriff he can call upon whatever force is necessary, if Middlemas proves difficult. Have you anyone in mind for the task? Your Deputy-Keeper?"

"I have not thought on it. But—would Sandy Graham, at Methven, serve? The minister's son. He has always been my friend. He is honest and no fool."

"Like yourself, on the young side. But, why not? If you think that he is sufficiently strong. For it is a task which calls for a strong hand."

"I hope that I
shall be there, or thereabouts, much of the time. To be my own Keeper."

The Duke eyed him thoughtfully. "You do not think to remain at court, John?"

"No. This is no life for me. I wish to be back in Scotland. I am hopeful that the King will let me go, before long. I long for Methven and the Highland hills. I am no courtier."

"Perhaps you are right. I have often wished the same for myself. But I am saddled with a royal dukedom, and you are not."

"Will you help me with the King, then? Convince him to let me go?"

"If you wish it, I will try. But James is . . .James. It may not be easy, whilst he finds you useful here. It will be a question of choosing our time
..."

Clearly that time would not be in the immediate future. John did not doubt that he would be required for further errands on the subject of the paper-trade—and he had not long to wait. Two days later he was sent for by the King, still in bed. James was fond of his bed, and when not able to hunt was apt to spend much time therein—so that there were occasions when his alleged sicknesses might be no more than excuses to lie in. Indeed he transacted much of the nation's business thus.

Buckingham was not present on this occasion; his orders were to be much with the Prince of Wales—which must in some ways have been a blessed relief for that young man, however much at odds he had been formerly with Charles. Now they were reputed to get on well together—by royal command.

"Aye then, Johnnie—I have our ploy worked out for your mannie at Dartford—what was his name?" James greeted.

"Vandervyk, Sire—a Hollander."

'H
ph'mm. Well, you're to go back down there and you're to tak him up to Scotland." John stared. "Scotland
.»..?"

"That is what I said. I have decided that is best. You're to take yon Will Alexander wi' you, to Dartford. No' to Scotland
...
or, we'll see. As coming frae mysel'. The Hollander thinks
you're
in the paper-trade, mind. So you'll need someone who looks mair substantial, frae me."

"But you'll dae the talking. You're to tell the mannie that I've heard well o' him, and that he's to go to Scotland to help wi' the paper-making there—help train new men. And then likely manage one o' the new mills on the Esk. Is that no' a right notable conceive? It gets him awa' frae his Dartford mill, so that nae mair paper will be made there—and at the same time aids in our paper-production in Scotland."

"But
..."
Hastily John amended that. "He may not
wish
to go to Scotland, Sire."

"Then you'll hae to see that he does, laddie. For that's where he's to go. Och, he'll like it fine, once he's there. You'll offer him compensation for his mill. And you'll get the woman Elizabeth's bit charter back frae him. You have it?"

"And if he
refuses
to go?"

"You'll tell him it's a royal command, whatever—or Alexander will. He's to go to Scotland—and there'll be nae mair paper-making in England. And that's that!"

"Yes, Majesty." John was learning to keep his emotions under control, where his sovereign lord was concerned at least. Although, of course, concerned about how he was to achieve this latest task, he was lost in admiration for the cleverness of the scheme, and the wits which had devised it, bringing down two birds with one arrow. And delighted, to be sure, at the thought of returning to Scotland again so soon—although winter travel might be unpleasant.

Sir William Alexander came to John next day, saying that he had orders to accompany him to Dartford. When would they go?

John was for setting off right away, but the other pointed out that it looked like rain and it would be sensible to wait till the morrow in the hopes of better travelling conditions—no point in making a misery of it. This was not John's reaction to royal commands, but the older man seemed calmly assured, and the Duke did not indicate otherwise.

So the following morning they set off in slightly more favourable weather. They did not hurry, as John would have done by himself. Alexander, it seemed, seldom hurried. Nevertheless, November weather was not for lingering, and they reached Dartford in mid-afternoon. They went straight to the Bull's Head tavern, where they would stay the night. And there was Vandervyk sitting at the same table, tankard in hand, as though he had not moved since the other day. Obviously he was a man who took life very much as it came.

If the Dutchman was surprised to see John again, and so soon, he did not show it, acknowledging their arrival by promptly ordering more ale.

John, being the young man he was, plunged in right away. He introduced Sir William as Master of Requests to King James, who had a message for him from His Majesty. Vandervyk guffawed at that, but pushed the ale across to Alexander.

"It is so," John insisted. "The King is interested in the paper-trade, and has sent Sir William to speak to you. He has an offer to make to you."

"Indeed, yes," Alexander said, taking his cue. "Mr Methven has told His Majesty about you and your mill, and how you have insufficient trade, because of the monopoly, to keep it running as it should. Now in Scotland where we—and the King—come from, they make paper, and do not recognise this German monopoly. The King wishes you to go to Scotland and aid them there."

"Me? Go to Scotland?" The Dutchman snorted.

"To be sure. Your knowledge would be valuable there. It is wasted here."

"Valuable, heh? Valuable to who? Not to me!"

"Yes, valuable to you," John said. "The King intends much to increase paper-making in Scotland. To set up new mills. You could much assist in this. And you would be well paid. Earn much more. There are two German millers, only, to teach the Scots the trade. You would make a third. You would be important there, busy instead of all but idle here."

"Do I want to be so busy, Master Methven?"

"Why not? You are a paper-maker, are you not? You did not come here, from your Netherlands, to idle your days away, I think?"