Unicorn Rampant (3 page)

"Hech, hech, man—Beast o' Rome is sweeping, aye sweeping! And the good ambassadors o' their maist Christian and Catholic Majesties o' France and Spain—here present, mind—will no' like yon o' Antichrist and, and locusts, was it? Right enough about David and Solomon and the like— but moderation in a' things, mind. Aye, and in length too, mannie. Enough is enough."

"Yes, Your Majesty. On the very knees of our hearts, we. . .

"Quiet, man—quiet! I said enough. If you hae knees to your heart, then you're a right wonder! Myself, I'm hungry—and it's a guid mile yet to Holyroodhouse, forby! Have done. Is that a', Mr Provost? It's usual, mind, for a bit presentation and recognisance, at such time. Secretary
Tam
—did you no' say . . . ?"

In his urgency the Provost actually interrupted the monarch. "To be sure, Sire—Your Majesty. Here it is. The city sword and keys, delivered to your royal keeping."

"Ooh, aye—but I wasna
just meaning bits o' iron, man." Gingerly James looked at the two city officers now bearing down on him, one bearing aloft the great sword, the other the keys on a crimson cushion. The monarch was expected to signify his acceptance of these symbols by touching them and returning them to their keepers. But throughout James had remained sitting on his horse instead of dismounting and coming to sit under the fine purple velvet canopy erected for him. So that the two officers were up on the platform and, though the King was approximately on the same level, there was a sizeable gap caused by the steps up. The bearers of the capital's emblems were in a quandary. Were they to descend the steps and then hoist up their awkward burdens, or would the sovereign dismount or even climb to the platform? Actually, James, who hated and dreaded cold steel—save for the gralloching-knife of the deer hunt—waved away custodians and symbols both, looking round accusingly at Sir Thomas Hamilton, the Secretary of State, now created Lord Binning and Byres, who had come to the Figgate Burn to meet him.

That bulky but shrewd individual raised the powerful voice which had so often intimidated the Court of Session —for he had long been Lord Advocate and was now Lord President of Session as well as Secretary of State. "The cup, man!" he shouted. "The siller cup."

Provost Nisbet, whose day this seemingly was not, hastily turned to the City Treasurer who handed him a silver chalice, with which he came forward, almost at the run. Again there was the gap to contend with. He hurried down the steps and more or less thrust the cup up at the King, wordless.

James leaned to take it, and hefted it expertly in his hand, peering within. "Light," he pronounced. "Gey light." He passed it over to the plain-faced man on his right. "How much, Vicky?" he demanded, frowning. "Scanty, I'd say— aye, scanty."

The Duke of Lennox grimaced. "Now, James? Here?" He had scarcely been attending to all this performance, his gaze tending to be fixed on the persons of Mary Gray and his son, sitting there across the platform.

"Aye, now. You'd no' have us ignorant, Vicky, about so important a matter? Eh, Provost?"

"No need to count it, Sire. There is five hundred pounds there, in double-angels," Nisbet asserted.

"Five
hundred,
just?" James sniffed. "Five hundred, eh? Och, well." He turned and glowered back at the Secretary of State. "You hear that, you
Tam
?"

"Wait, Sire," that individual called.

"Na, na—we've been here ower long as it is. I'mawa'..."

"Sire—the Provost," the Duke reminded, in a penetrating whisper. "It is customary to knight the Provost of this your capital city."

"Customary, eh? Customary! Na, na, Vicky—no' for five hundred pounds, it's no'! You should ken that. Geordie Heriot wouldna have said the like. He kent what was what. See you to this Provost-mannie—I'm awa'. Come, Steenie." Majesty dug in his heels, reined his horse half-round, and headed off for the West Port archway.

Ludovick Stewart looked at the unhappy Nisbet, shrugged and dismounted. He tossed his reins to one of the Town Guard, handed the silver chalice to another, patted the cloaked provostly shoulder sympathetically, and ran up the steps on to the platform and straight over to Mary Gray, his son and his sister.

"My dear, my love, my heart!" he cried, and enfolded the dark woman in his arms, there before all. "At last! At last!"

Mary Gray hugged him, laughing between kisses. "Dear Vicky! Dear, dear Vicky! But . . . but is this wise? So many
...
to see."

"Let them see! All know, anyway. And I am a widower now, mind!"

"And growing fat on it!"

"That is French food. Too much oil!" He turned to embrace his sister—but still kept one arm around Mary Gray. Then he held out a hand to his son. "Johnnie! Johnnie—how good! Damn it—you're a better-looking man than your father!"

John Stewart was speechless.

"Where are you lodging? With the old Tippermuir dame? Then I will come to you there as soon as I can get away from James."

"Will he let you go, Vicky? He is always so demanding."

"He has this new pup, George Villiers, whom he calls Steenie. He dotes on him, even more than he did on the late and unlamented Carr. So long as he has young Steenie he maybe will scarce miss me
..."

"Look—there seems to be some trouble at the gate," the Countess said.

There was indeed now a great milling of horsemen and guards at the West Port arch, although that was to be expected with so many to get through the narrow entry. But, by the shouting and jostling, with the white-satined Town Guard hurrying thither, there appeared to be more than mere congestion.

The Duke felt that he might be required, as so often he was by his crowned cousin—for one thing, because of James's fear of naked steel, he alone was permitted to carry a sword in the royal presence, which weapon was required more for knightings than for anything more martial, but, in the sudden crises and panics which were so apt to develop out of nothing with this Lord's Anointed, James was glad to have both sword and reliable kinsman ever near-at-hand. So now he hurried to the gateway. John went with him.

Actually there was no call for any alarm. All that had happened was that the royal interest had been caught, typically, by the three grinning malefactors' heads stuck on spikes above the West Port archway, a favoured display spot for such relics, where they would do most good. Being James, he was intrigued not only by the various expressions thereon but in the varying stages of decay and putrescence, demanding of the gate-porters to know just how long each had been there exposed and wondering why one, not the newest apparently, should be still reasonably whole and intact—save for the eyes pecked out by crows—and a later example little better than a grisly skull? Nothing would do but that all three items should be brought down for royal examination. Not only had all this delayed passage through the gateway but, it so happening that the ladder to mount to the wellhead above the arch being kept behind one of the halves of the great double-doors, this half had to be pulled out, thus part-closing the already constricted entry. Such semi-closure, with the monarch on the other side, was of course incomprehensible for much of the royal train queueing up, and there ensued, in some; a scare that some sort of attack or assault was in progress, especially amongst the English courtiers—and much of th
e huge cavalcade was English-born
—who were prepared to believe that everything in Scotland was barbarous, hazardous and probably treasonable into the bargain. So confusion developed outside the gate, and an anatomical study inside.

By the time that Ludovick and John Stewart had pushed their way through the noisy throng, however, at some risk from horses' stamping hooves, and discovered all this, the monarch had lost interest in the relics, and, yielding to Steenie's gasping complaints about the stench, shooed the heads away and set off eastwards down the street towards the Grassmarket at a brisk pace, scattering the crowded citizenry before them like squawking poultry. They left behind major disarray and doubts, as the most illustrious of two kingdoms sought to get through into the city after their liege-lord.

The Duke, of course, found himself in the forefront but without his horse. "A plague!" he exclaimed, "James will not stop now until he gets to Holyrood! Where the devil is my horse? He'll be shouting for me, God knows!"

"He'll have to stop," John pointed out. "There are other arches and spectacles to get through, three more at least. At the West Bow and St Giles and the Tolbooth
..."

"Lord!" his father groaned. "He'll be in direst straits then, I swear! I'll have to be after him, or he'll be yelling treason! A horse
...
?" He looked about him and reached for the bridle of the most forward-placed mount he saw—which happened to be that of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, chief of the greatest house in England, and who should have been Duke of Norfolk but for the attainder of that title by the late Queen Elizabeth. "Off!" he shouted. "Off with you—in the King's name!" And, more or less, he tugged that astonished young man out of the saddle by main force. "Sorry, Tommy—you'll find my grey somewhere. This is important," he panted. Mounting to the vacated saddle, Ludovick looked down at his son and held out his hand. "Up behind me, Johnnie—you'll know where these damned arches are. Come!"

So, mounted pillion behind the only duke in both kingdoms, and quite deserting Mary Gray and the Countess, John Stewart of Methven was carried jolting down the street and into the Grassmarket even faster than the sovereign of the United Kingdom had gone before, scattering all before them and leaving utter chaos behind.

The Duke of Lennox's alarm was not uncalled-for. They caught up with royalty at the far end of the Grassmarket, where the winding street known as the West Bow curled up to the main spine of the city, the mile-long Lawnmarket, High Street and Canongate. Unfortunately, however, here where was erected the temporary but elaborate cloth-of-gold-covered arch with figures, such royalty went unrecognised. Dean of Guild Aitkenhead and others of the city guildry and merchant company, who officiated here, were perhaps scarcely to be blamed. After all, they had looked for a monarchial figure at the head of a great and noble train, and, when only two mounted persons came c
lattering up, one distinctl
y odd-looking with a high hat aslant and clothing disarranged, the other a mere youth however pretty, they were barred from further progress and told to go whence they had come. That these good burgesses should not know James Stewart's distinctly memorable features was not so surprising either, for it was now fourteen years since he had departed from his native land, on succeeding to Elizabeth Tudor's throne in 1603, and this was his first return. Hence all the excitement. But it did mean that few there were in any position to recognise him. Moreover, when James got upset, as now, he spluttered and dribbled more profusely than ever, becoming practically unintelligible save to the initiated, and here his hot protestations that he was the King and that they were all shameful and seditious scoundrels went quite uncomprehended. As he continued to gabble and gesticulate, Master Aitkenhead assumed him to be a madman, and, being Moderator of the City Constables as well as Dean of Guild, he ordered the constables there on duty to apprehend this disturber of the King's peace, and his companion, and remove them. So Majesty was hauled down off his horse, struggling and bawling, Treason, Murder! Steenie protested too, that it
was
the King and that he was George, Earl of Buckingham; but his aristocratic English voice was scarcely more intelligible to his hearers than was his spluttering master's, and went equally disregarded.

This was the situation when Ludovick and John rode up, with the now weeping sovereign and his favourite being hustled away by the constables, and the platform-party seeking to soothe Dame Music and her choir of children and instrumentalists who were naturally agog, the lady all but in hysterics, a spectacle in herself, for she was large and pink in diaphanous robes and they had already been there for almost three hours.

In these circumstances, the arrival of two more hurrying horsemen, but only one horse, was bound to have a less than calming effect. The Duke of Lennox ought to have been recognisabl
e, for he often returned to Scotl
and and indeed had acted as Viceroy. But the King's cousin would not be expected to be giving a lift to a pillion-passenger, nor to be unaccompanied either. Also Ludovick, as well as being plain-faced, dressed plainly and not in court fashion, and John was likewise. So the newcomers' shouts were ignored also, as the platform prepared to deal with more madmen.

John, who rather prided himself on being fit and agile, indeed something of a mountaineer, leapt nimbly down from the back of his father's saddle, without waiting for representations or explanations, and in three strides launched himself bodily upon the two unfortunate constables who were with difficulty manhandling the shambling, struggling monarch. One he cannoned into with sufficient force to send him reeling, and the other he lashed out at with his fist, spinning him round, whereupon the other fist, to the jawline, felled him to the ground. James, not knowing whether he was being rescued or undergoing further attack, cringed and staggered helplessly.