Unicorn Rampant (33 page)

"Janet!" was all that he could find to say — and he kept his clenched fists close to his sides.

"John - you look well. It is good to see you," she greeted him, voice steady, carefully controlled. "London life must serve you kindly."

"No," he said. "It does not."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that. But
...
at least you can get back not infrequently. You came before, did you not?" "Yes. Two months ago." "I heard that you had been." "I could not
..."
He left the rest of that unsaid. "No. I understand." "You are well?"

"Thank you, yes. But I have always been a healthy creature." "Yes."

"For how long are you to be back at Methven?"

"Two or three days more. That is all."

"So soon to go? A pity."

"It is, yes. We have to return. To the King."

"A long journey.
At
this time of year."

"Yes."

Mary Gray came to their rescue. "John—have one of these roe ribs. Cooked to a turn. I am going to introduce Sir William to a bowl of our Strathearn stew, yonder. They may not make it in the Carse of Forth. We will be back." And she took Alexander's arm and moved away.

Janet and John searched each others' faces, eyes.

"You . . . you are more beautiful than ever!" he got out—which was hardly helpful, nor indeed what he had intended to say.

"Oh, John . . . !" she exclaimed, swallowing, her voice quivering now.

"I should not have said that. I am sorry. But—I could not help myself."

"I know . . . how it is. But we must not
..."

"No. That is why I have not come. To see you. This time, nor the last. Hard as it has been. But that cannot stop me from thinking of you—nothing can do that. Even if I wished it."

"I should not say it—but I am glad."

"You are? Thank God!" He shook his head at himself, glancing around to ensure that no one was near enough to have heard. He lowered his voice. "How do you fare, my dear? As, as you now are?"

She bit her lip. "Say that I fare . . . none so ill. Davie is a good man, and none so hard on me. But—do not call me dear, John—for I cannot bear it!"

"Very well. But nothing will make you otherwise, to me. I saw David back there. I could not speak to him."

"No? But it is not his fault, John. We must just thole it."

"More easy said than done . . ."

His mother and Alexander returned, riming judged, bearing bowls of the rich hot stew for four, with horn spoons.

"How are your parents, Janet?" Mary asked. "I heard that your mother was less than well. . . ?"

When they had finished their stew, the younger woman said that she must go find her husband; and, when John did not propose to escort her, Alexander gallantly offered his arm.

"Goodbye, John," Janet said. "It has been good to see you
...
I think!"

"Yes." He gripped her arm briefly, then all but pushed her away. "So much . . . unsaid."

She nodded. "I wish you very well. In England. A good journey. And, and . . ." She shook her head, and turned away.

Will Alexander led her off.

"Too much of this would not be good for either of you," Mary Gray observed, but kindly. "Come and talk to Master Graham, Sandy's father. About your Dumbarton . . ."

After that, John was for getting away from Strathearn as quickly as possible, and two days later they Were on their way. Now they had another companion, Alexander Graham, Sandy, the parish-minister's son and John's friend from boyhood, whom he had persuaded, albeit doubtfully, to take on the position of Deputy-Keeper and Constable of Dumbarton Castle. This, despite the opposition of Sandy's father, who considered it far too responsible a position for a young man of Sandy's age who had no experience of life outside Strathearn. John had pointed out to both that, if
he
was old enough to be the King's Governor and Keeper, then Sandy, six months older, could surely be Deputy. Moreover, although admittedly this new role would call for rather different qualities than the work Sandy had been doing for the last years, that is combining farming with supervising the drainage of Methven Moss and the marketing of the estate's timber, nevertheless these duties had involved the management of many men and a good deal of judgment and responsibility. The principal requirement at Dumbarton was surely that whoever held the position should be responsible, trustworthy and able, and Sandy was all three.

So they rode south by west again, for the Clyde estuary, to eject Middlemas and install his replacement, before turning east for Edinburgh, there to install Vandervyk. John had a feeling that Will Alexander's presence might well be a help in the former, at least.

Just how much help he required, John had not quite anticipated. After spending the night at Aberfoyle, they called at Kilmahew, west of Cardross, to collect Robert Napier, the Sheriff-Depute, to provide due legality to the proceedings. Thus reinforced, even though Napier was scarcely a vehement character, they made the final five miles to Dumbarton and its fortress.

There, at the foot of the great rock, John experienced a very different reception from the previous occasion. The massive doors at the outer gatehouse of the perimeter wall were shut and barred. At first, he assumed that Middlemas had accepted his dismissal and departed without further ado, shutting up the castle behind him—until Sandy Graham pointed out the smoke which was rising from an inner gatehouse chimney, and also, it could be seen, from the hallhouse high on the hill. So the fortress was not in fact deserted.

Nobody came in answer to their shouts and hangings on the iron-bound door.

At a loss as to what to do, they presently went back down to the nearest houses, a pair of fishermen's cottages on the shore between castle and town, demanding of the occupants to know what was going on. The cottagers were reluctant to talk, obviously fright
ened of Middlemas and his crew;
but, when Sheriff Napier threatened them with the sanctions of the law, they capitulated and informed that four days earlier the Constable, Middlemas, had suddenly closed and barred the castle-doors, which had always stood open hitherto. There were about a dozen men within, with some women. The fisherfolk heard them emerge at night sometimes, no doubt to collect food and change the women; but otherwise the castle remained closed and silent.

"So-o-o." John commented. "They lock themselves in. A state of siege, almost! Four days ago, you say? I wonder why then? Middlemas must have heard, I think, that I was back at Methven. And guessed that I would be coming for him."

"This is crazy-mad!" Alexander declared. "The King's royal fortress held against the King's Governor and his Sheriff! And by a mere deputy-keeper. This is beyond belief!"

"He is a hard and violent man. I do not know why my father appointed him. But I did not judge him capable of this. I am at a loss what to do, if he will not come to speak with me."

"He may not hear our shouting. It seems a long way up to that large house."

"If we had a trumpet, to blow as summons?" Napier suggested.

"I fear that none of us carry trumpets around with us!" John said. "I suppose that it might be possible to find one in the town."

"A ladder," Sandy Graham proposed. "If we could get a ladder to scale this outer wall."

"It would scarcely look dignified for the Governor of Dumbarton to enter his fortress by climbing a ladder, man!"

"You
need not do it. I will climb up. And Pate, here." Pate was Alexander's groom.

"I too," Vandervyk declared, laughing heartily, clearly finding the situation highly amusing.

"Well. .
."

They went back into the town, John at least feeling distinctly feeble. There they divided forces, Sandy and Pate to search for a long ladder, Napier to try to find a trumpet, and the other three to enter an ale-house, to wait, in an effort at dignity. This affair was going to resound round Dumbarton inevitably.

They had quite a while to wait. A sufficiently long ladder to scale a twenty-foot-high wall was not readily to be found, and eventually Sandy and Pate came back with a pair of grinning stone-masons and two twelve-foot ladders which, bound together with rope, ought to serve. The Sheriff-Depute could not lay hands on a trumpet, either, but had uncovered an old Highland
hunting-horn
, which at least would make a loud noise, he averred.

Thus equipped, they headed back to the castle-rock—unfortunately now an enlarged company, a small crowd having assembled, to follow them, agog.

At the gatehouse, whilst the ladders were being tied together, sundry members of the party took turns at blowing on the horn, some more successfully than others. A variety of noises resulted, squawks, moans, gurgles and wails, few really impressive, although some were probably loud enough to reach the upper hall
-
house. The delighted cheers of the onlookers, however, more than made up for the less-than-effective horn-blowing, and no doubt carried further.

No response was evident from the castle, to either.

The ladder ready, it was set up a few yards from the gatehouse, its topmost rung reaching to within a few inches of the wallhead. Sandy volunteered to climb first, and amidst renewed cheers started up. But he had not risen more than a few steps when two men appeared on the parapet-walk which topped the wall on the inner side and, leaning over, pushed the ladder sideways. It toppled and fell with a clatter, throwing Sandy Graham in a sprawling heap.

Great was the uproar.

The position was now clear, at least. There could be no pretence at not knowing nor hearing on the part of Middlemas and his minions. He was openly defying John's and the Sheriff's authority, prepared even to use violence apparently.

Whilst the ladder was being re-erected, John went close up to the gatehouse and cupped hands to mouth.

"William Middlemas," he shouted. "I, Sir John Stewart, the King's duly-appointed Governor of this hold, charge you to open these gates to me, in the King's name. Or else suffer the dire consequences. Open, I say, in King James's royal name!"

There was no least reaction.

Pate the groom was now eager to try the ladder. He pointed out that, if others climbed close behind him, the extra weight could make it difficult for the men at the wallhead to push it over. Vandervyk—asserting loudly that he at least had plenty of weight—Sandy and even some of the townsfolk agreed to back him up. Pate started his climb.

But the people above recognised their danger and, before the groom was halfway up, with only Vandervyk able to be off the ground, they bent to their task, a third man coming to assist them now, and again managed to tip the ladder sidelong and over with apparent ease. Great was the fall, with Pate crashing down on top of the Dutchman, amidst yells. Two rungs where the ladders were joined, were sprung loose.

Vandervyk was winded, his laughter quenched for the moment, and Pate had hurt his leg. John called a halt on any more ladder-work, and returned to vocal efforts.

"I warn you, Middlemas, that you put yourself, and these fools who support you, in the greatest peril," he cried. "You cannot hope to continue to hold a royal fortress in defiance of the King's authority. You will be ejected in due course, and suffer the fullest penalty—all of you. Open now—or meet your doom hereafter!" He felt something of a fool shouting that.

Alexander joined in. "I am Sir William Alexander of Menstrie, Master of Requests to the King," he called up. "Do not think that you can expect any mercy if you do not yield up this castle at once. Do you wish to hang, for your insolent folly?"

He received no more response than had John.

Napier was not to be left out. "I am the Sheriff," he declared—and then, coughing slightly, amended that, in present company. "The Sheriff-Depute. This holding of the King's citadel against the King's Captain and Governor could be adjudged high treason. And you know the penalty for treason is death! Open, I command you."

They all might have been talking only to the ancient masonry for all the effect they appeared to have.

John spread his hands. "This is useless. They are not going to heed us. We are not going to get in, that is clear. What to do now, God knows!"

"What says the Sheriff? Can he bring armed force to bear? With the law being flouted?"

"I have no armed men, Sir William. I could enrol a few constables—but what would that serve? It would take a siege to reduce this place. I cannot mount that. It would have to be the Privy Council. And you, Sir John, will have more authority with the Privy Council?"

"Is that what I must do, then? Appeal to the Privy Council?"

"Yes. Or, I believe so. I have never known the like of this before. But I can see no other course, in law. The Council is bound to act, since it is the King's business."

"Very well. We are going to Edinburgh. I will demand that the Privy Council takes action against this madman. There is nothing more that we can do here
..."