Unknown (3 page)

'Come
- or we will not win near the King,' Kilpont exclaimed,
starting to push, in turn,

"Never!'
the other jerked. Think you Montrose should act so? In such rabble!'

‘
You
heard Fielding. At Court, do as the courtiers do
1
See
-
he
does.'

'Let
him. I bide here.'

Then
the King will not see you. What you came here for.' 'So be it,
then. But. , . Hamilton knows that I am here.' The Marquis of
Hamilton was the tall man in yellow at the King's right; and because
of his height, he could see over the heads of most of the crowd.
Already, almost as soon as he entered the room, his glance had
caught that of his fellow Scot - and though he looked away at once,
without any sign, Montrose knew that he had recognised him. He was a
fine figure of a man, though ridiculously overdressed and prinked up
with a plethora of ribbons, bows, rosettes, costume-jewellery and
the like on top of his peach satin slashed with scarlet. The royal
right hand rested on his puffed and pearl-seeded sleeve.

It
was some little while before James Graham could catch a glimpse of
the King's face, when he momentarily took off his hat to greet a
genuflecting lady presented to him by one of his troupe. But at the
sight, the younger man's offence and ill-humour left him, melted
promptly like snow in the sun. For Charles Stewart was all and more
than he had hoped to see, his features noble, splendid, stately,
kingly indeed, but never proudly arrogant or distant. Sensitive,
compassionate, almost sad, his great lustrous Stewart eyes looked
beneath his lofty forehead and delicately arching brows. The face
was long and narrow, an impression accentuated by the pointed beard,
longer than was usual for the period, and the shoulder-length
curling auburn hair; and the general expression
was
grave.
But the smile, when vouchsafed, was warm and kindly. Every inch and
line and movement of the man was implicit with dignity.

'
'Fore God, man - you said he was stupid! Weak and stupid! I think
you troubles must have cost you your wits, Johnnie !'

'Perhaps.'
The other shrugged. 'He looks a king, yes. But he acts
...
otherwise. You will learn !'

The
King passed slowly up the avenue formed by the Guard, pausing here
and [here to speak to some low-bowing man or dipping woman either
singled out by himself or presented by one of his posturing minions
- and always, when it was a woman, he briefly removed his great
feathered hat with a gesture of the most gracious courtesy. Quite
soon he was past a point level with Montrose, and no sign or glance
given.

'You
see,' Kilpont said. ‘You are not noticed. Here it is de'l
tak the hindmost!'

'Wait,
you,' the other answered.

They
had a lengthy wait, for Majesty was in no hurry, and many people
were spoken to and presented. Before long, James Graham's toe began
to tap-tap the floor again.

When
Charles at length turned, at the far end of the room, to move slowly
back, the tubby man with the slightly clerical look about his
plum-coloured velvet and lace, seemed to take over from Hamilton in
making the majority of presentations. And he found more to catch his
eye than had the Marquis — especially amongst the women —
to the Graham's ill-concealed impatience.

'That
man - who is he? A churchman - but with a good conceit of himself!'

'That
is William Laud, the Archbishop. The King's close confessor! An
Armenian - and the most unpopular man in England ! Yet Charles loves
him well - even better than Hamilton, they say. He has turned the
Church here upside-down. And is seeking to do the same in Scotland .
. .'

'Scotland?
The Archbishop of Canterbury? What has such to do with Scotland?'

'Well
may you ask! But King Charles heeds him in all things. And Charles
is still King of Scots.'

Slowly
the courteous monarch worked his way down the long room again. And
despite himself, James Graham edged a little forward. When he saw
Basil Fielding briefly enjoying the royal attention, he
subconsciously smoothed the lace at his throat and the ruffles at
his wrists, waiting to catch Hamilton's signal the while. But the
Marquis looked anywhere but at Montrose; and the King gradually
passed by.

'God's
curse!' the Graham swore, beneath Ids breath. 'This is too much!'

Kilpont
eyed his chief sidelong, and decided to hold his tongue.

Biting
his lip, Montrose watched his sovereign's gracious retreating back.

Fielding
came pushing his way to his friend's side again. 'James! Sink me -
what's this? he exclaimed. 'You are ignored. This is beyond all
belief. The Earl of Montrose spurned. On your first visit to Court.
You should have pushed forward, man. As I did. As all do
...'

'I
should not,' the other snapped. 'Besides, they know that I am here.
Hamilton does. He looked at me. And his brother, Lanark, mincing
there. I saw him peering - and pretending not to. Yet he has brought
half a dozen to the King . . .'

'It
is damnable. See - people are looking. Staring. I heard many
whispering your name...'

'Let
them
...'

'James
- if you slipped round there, to near the door, behind these, you
would win close enough. As they go out There is still time...'

'I
will do no such thing. Think you I must dodge and jouk and crawl for
any man? Even Charles Stewart?'

'But
...
if he does not know that you are here?'

'Then
it is Hamilton's doing. And, 'fore God, I will not crawl for
Hamilton!'

In
silence the trio waited. And now there was no question but that many
eyes were turned in their direction. Close by, a woman tittered.

Then,
as the King was
about
to
leave the room, and trumpeters were raising their instruments for
die valedictory fanfare, Hamilton stooped, and spoke in the royal
ear, turning to glance back directly at Montrose.