Unicorn Rampant (51 page)

At length Villie
rs came out, with the Surveyor-General of the royal buildings, one Inigo Jones, whom James was having design him a new banqueting-hall for this palace— although how it was to be paid for went unexplained. Steenie looked as though he was not listening to Jones, who was talking volubly, the company of mere architects being scarcely his choice. John at least relieved him of that burden.

"My lord," he said, rising and stepping directly in front of the elaborately-dressed favourite, "a word with you."

At sight of John, and at the curtness of that address, the Marquis hesitated. Then he waved a hand with a perfumed handkerchief—he was on record as saying that one required strong perfume in the close company of the Lord's Anointed—and waved the interrupter away.

"Another time perhaps, Stewart," he said loftily.

"No—now!" That was harshly enunciated and with no lowering of voice.

Steenie glanced swiftly round the chamber, noting the many watchful eyes upon them. A frown darkened his almost beautiful features. "I said another time. Out of my way, sirrah!"

"You escaped me over quickly last night, Villiers. By a back door! Not today!" John did not move aside, but he did incline his head to the architect. "Your pardon, Master Jones," he said.

That small, dark man, glancing from one to the other, prudently bowed to both and hurried off.

"Have you lost your wits, man? How dare you!"

"I dare much more, I assure you—and trust that you will also! And not in a bedchamber this time!"

"God's Death! I . . ." Villiers, a
gain glancing round, restrained
himself, shrugged and then turning, threw the word "Come!" back at his provoker, and stalked whence he had come.

John followed him into the ante-room between the audience-chamber and the royal private quarters, where the guard on duty was curtly dismissed and the door closed behind them.

"You insolent fool!" Steenie jerked. "You shall pay for this, I promise you. What do you want with me?"

"Some small satisfaction—only that! To tell you to your pretty face that you are a cheat, a mountebank and a whoremonger! And to ensure that you pay for what you have done. If you have the courage . . ."

"What a God's name are you at, damn you? More of this and I will have that guard back and you off to the Tower, you wretched Scotch ape! I. . ."

"Did you get your cloak back from my wife's bedchamber this morning?" John had to raise his voice to overbear what was almost a shout.

The other's open mouth opened wider, and then shut again, wary suddenly.

"You ran, Villiers—you ran, curse you! From her bed. Like the craven you are. When you heard me at the door. I was just too late to catch you."

Steenie cleared his throat. "I do not know of what you speak," he declared. "This of your wife. You rave . .
.!"

"You lie, man! So you are a liar as well as the rest. You were in Margaret's bed last night. In your Wallingford House. When I came. Behind a locked door. You bolted— but left your cloak. The cloak the King gave you."

"You have no proof of that. Save the cloak. And I deny it."

"My wife did not deny it, hot from your arms!" "Meg d
oes not need to deny it. Since I
do!" "So she is Meg to you? What was your cloak doing in her chamber, then?"

"Some other must have taken it there. If there it was." "Some other?"

"To be sure, some other. Think y
ou Meg's bed is reserved for you
?"

"Damn you, you dastard! You poltroon! Can you not at least admit your guilt like a man?"

"I admit nothing, Stewart. Now, go—before I call the guard."

"Call the guard—and I call others. Many others! Who would be interested to hear this! When you are to marry this Manners heiress in a month's time. I swear it should concern Rutland! And what of the King?"

"You would not dare, fool! I can silence you, never doubt it. And will. Silence you once and for all. . ."

"Ha—that is better! Now you talk sense. For that is why I am here. To give you opportunity to silence me—or me
you\
For good. I will meet you. Wherever you will. With swords, dirks or pistols. Name you the day and the place."

"Dizzard! Do you think that I, Buckingham, would demean myself to cross swords with you? And over Meg Hamilton? You must be crazed, with your cuckolding."

"Perhaps. But meet we will. Or else we will have this thing the talk of London
..."

"You'll do nae such thing, neither o' you. And that's that!" They jerked round to find James standing in the further doorway, in night-shirt and hat. "You'll be done wi' this folly, the pair o' you, d'you hear? I'll hae nae mair o' it."

"But, Sire
..
."

"I've told you before, Johnnie Stewart—nae buts! This is the end o' it."

"It is my wife, Sire. I
..
."

"I ken, I ken—I heard it a'. Yon peep-hole and lug I made can be right convenient—as I told you, yon time. Your wife's no' a' she should be, maybe—but many's the wife's that way. Aye, and husbands. I dinna care whae's been in your Meg's bed—but you're no' going to turn a' here tapsalteerie because o' it, you are no'. Mind you that. And you, Steenie—the same to you. You've been a right fool, I can see that fine. But this is the end o' the folly, d'you hear? I'll no hae my court and plans cowped by any hot-rumpit wench! So—the twa o' you can forget it!"

"I cannot do that, Sire," John said levelly. "When it is a man's wife and honour
..."

"Then you will leave my court and royal presence, John Stewart! Aye, leave it. I've been thinking for a whilie that it's about time you went back to Scotland. To bide. There's no' sufficient for you to dae here to keep you frae girning. You can serve me better up yonder. At Dumbarton, aye Dumbarton. I'll no' hae you hang-dog around here, wi' your grouch at my Steenie—fool as he is! So that's settled. You'll be awa', Johnnie—awa'. Forby, your faither aye says that you're never content but you're in Scotland—God kens why! So you'll no' break your heart, eh?"

John swallowed, scarcely believing his ears. "When . . . when do I go, Sire?"

"Just sae soon as you like, man. The sooner the better— for I dinna want you around wi' this wedding o' Steenie's coming up. You might forget yoursel' and my royal commands. You might talk. And there'll be
nae
talk, you hear? Nane. Noo—awa' wi' you, while I gie this Steenie a fleg in his ear! Ooh, aye—he'll get one, never fear. But, see you— come and see me before you go, Johnnie. I want to see you about ae thing or twa."

John bowed, and left them there.

He hurried out of Whitehall Palace, his heart singing— even though behind it there was the ache of lacerated pride and frustrated vengeance. He was going home. For good.

He wished that he could go right away, now, leave everything—in case James might change his mind. But George Villiers would work on the King
not
to change his mind, that could be relied on. He would want him away.

He went out into the London streets to walk again, tiredness forgotten, so very different from walking in the night.

James did not change his mind. He sent for John two evenings later, with the court moving next day to Hampton Court where the wedding was to take place, for rehearsals, decorations and the like. John found him in his bed, alone.

"Aye, weel, Johnnie—there you are," he greeted amiably. "You'll be off the morn, I've nae doubt—since you'll no' be joining us at Hampton, I'm thinking. Come, sit by me. You'll hae a cup o' wine?"

Clearing the usual litter of papers on the untidy bed, John sat, but warily.

"You're a thrawn, difficult crittur, Johnnie—you a
ye have been. But honest enough
I jalouse. I'll miss you, mind."

'Thank you, Sire."

"Aye. Noo—as to your Meg Hamilton. What do you aim to dae about her?"

John shook his head. "I, I do not know. Yet. I have not had time to fully consider it. But—my marriage to her is finished, that is sure. A divorce will be. . "

"A divorce will
not
be!" the King interrupted flatly. "Nae divorce."

"But, Sire
..
."

"But naething! Nae divorce. I'll no' permit it. And dinna glower at me that way, Johnnie Stewart—or you'll be glowering at a cell door! Mind it." The monarch wagged a finger at him, but relaxed his severe expression. "Och, man—d'you no' see? You couldna sue for divorce without bringing in my Steenie. And that's no' to be considered. I've great plans for Steenie—for the guid o' this realm."

"I would not have considered that probable, Sire."

"You wouldna, would you no'? Which just goes to show how little you ken, my mannie. Steenie is the main rock on which I will wreck the Howards and a' their like. He may not aye be wiselike—but rocks dinna need to be, eh? To wreck ill craft!" James chuckled. "But, mind, he's no' aye foolish—any mair than you are! There's mair than folly behind yon bonnie face—there's the ability to survive, for ae thing! Ooh, aye—and that's a right precious commodity in statecraft, see you. There's no' that many have it.
You,
now—I wouldna just say that you have it."

"If I had to become like
him
to survive, then I do not think that I would wish it!"

"So—hoity-toity again! There you are, then—you'll never mak a statesman nor yet a courtier even, that's plain. But Steenie will. Given time. Once he's safe wed, I aim to send him to Spain, wi' Charlie, to tie up this Spanish match. Aye and contrive a treaty o' mutual aid wi' the Spanishcrs. That'll keep thae Frenchies looking ower their shoulders, to our greater comfort. The same way we in Scotland used the Auld Alliance wi' France hersel', to keep these English on their taes, eh? The same ploy. And right necessar. So— there's to be nae scandal aboot Steenie, before he's wed, or after. His Maist Catholic Majesty o' Spain doesna like scandal. Nor yet divorce."

John said nothing.

"I told you—tak the glower off your face, man. And dinna think that once you're safe back in Scotland you can jouk me ower divorce, behind my back, mind. You were wed in England, by an English bishop, and any divorce would hae to be contrived here. And
I'm
head o' the Church o' England! There'll be nae scandal." He paused. "What do you aim to do aboot your Meg, then? I dinna want her taken awa to Scotland. No' at this present, anyways."

"On
that
you need have no fears, Sire!"

"Is that so!
I want her here, meant
ime. She's doing fine wi' that Manners lassie—who's a handfu', they tell me. A right strange bairn. But wi' a mint o' siller—mair than any mint o' mine! But she likes your Meg, who can handle her. Which is mair than yon woman I've had to make Countess o' Buckingham can dae! And, when Steenie goes to Spain, she's going to need handling. For she'll be Duchess o' Buckingham and it's fell important that she acts the part."

"Duchess,
Sire . . . ?"

"Aye, Duchess. I'm going to male Steenie a duke. To gie him the necessary authority to contrive this Spanish treaty. And to keep Charlie frae making a
fool
o' himself
"

"Your Majesty knows best. But I would wonder that my wife is considered to be so good an influence on this future duchess. When she had been bedding with the bridegroom!"

"Och, weel—I hae a hold on your Meg noo, see you. I can see that she does as she's told. On Steenie likewise. Ae guid thing to come oot o' a' this. Hech, hech—there's aye guid in maist situations."

John gazed at his prince. "I see that Your Majesty has all worked out!"

"That's right, laddie. You canna rule twa kingdoms without using the wits the guid God gave you. Noo— enough o' this. On the matter o' Dumbarton you'll bring me the siller frae my rents and dues twice every year—bring it yoursel'. And if Johnnie Mar or his kin speir any questions at you, refer them to my royal self! Aye, and you'll keep an eye on the paper-making, forby. Thae Germans and Hollanders are a' right; but they need to be minded that they're no' on their ain! You'll see that the cargoes keep coming. And each half-year when you bring the siller frae Dumbarton, we'll decide on prices. Will
Alexander
will deal wi' Cockayne and the merchants at this end. Oh, aye—and there's another bit aboot Dumbarton. It's no'
just best nor suitable that
you
should decide each time what you're going to deduct frae your collections for costs and expenses and the like. You might, by mischance, defraud yoursel', eh? Or me! So, I've decided on a better arrange. You'll get a pension each year—frae the Scots Treasury, mind. Paid on my express commands. That'll keep them off your back, see you, and nae argie-bargie. Eighteen hundred merks will dae you fine. You'll manage Dumbarton on that, easy—and what you dinna use you can put in your ain pouch!
You
have it—
1
,800 merks? Right generous. Aye, and you can continue to ca' yoursel' one o' my gentlemen— an
Extra
Gentleman o' the Bedchamber. That'll aye gie you entry here. How's that, Johnnie Stewart?"