The whole court of Holyrood was now busied principally with one
subject. It is the vice of all petty courts to have their whole
attention taken up with personal quarrels and small passions, not the
less venomous for their minuteness. The Earl of Gowrie was not a
favourite--that had become evident within one week after his return
from the continent; and although he neither held nor coveted any place
about the king's person, all those who were mounting the frail ladder
of courtly favour marked the coldness between the king and himself
with satisfaction, and augured the fall of those members of his family
who had obtained appointments in the royal household. At all events,
as far as he was personally concerned, Gowrie prepared to cut the
matter very short, by taking leave of the king within ten days after
his arrival in Edinburgh, upon the plea of visiting his mother, and
examining the condition of his own estates. Still he himself, and his
relations with the court, continued to occupy the thoughts of men.
From his wealth, from his connexions, and from his extensive property,
he was much too important a person to have his movements, his
demeanour, or his intentions considered lightly; and, far superior to
most of his fellow peers, both in acquired knowledge and intellectual
scope, he had shown so decided a leaning to that rational freedom
which was repugnant to all James's ideas of authority, that courtiers
readily learned to hate him because their royal master showed that he
feared him. Nevertheless, with the great majority of his equals in
rank he was very popular, and by the poorer classes he was universally
and dangerously beloved. The people cheered him when he appeared in
public, even while the courtiers were drawing back from his brother
and sister, in terror of the plague-spot of disfavour. Yet the effect
of his coming had been very different upon different men who had been
united in opinion before his arrival. Sir Hugh Herries, commonly
called Doctor Herries, who had a strong personal dislike both to the
earl's brother Alexander and to the Lady Beatrice, and who had
extended this feeling of animosity to the earl himself and all his
family, seemed but to be confirmed in his rancorous ill-will by the
presence of Gowrie himself. Nor did he at all attempt to conceal it,
replying to any observations the earl addressed to him, in few words
and with a repulsive tone; and calling him in private, proud,
overbearing, and ambitious, although he himself had personally no
cause to accuse him of such faults.
John Ramsay, on the contrary, grew grave and thoughtful. He did not
seek the earl's society, but he did not avoid it; and the kind and
friendly tone which Gowrie assumed towards him, treating him as the
brother of an old and dear friend, his frank and open manner, and some
instances of calm and generous forbearance, when the young man gave
way to the impulses of a rash bold temper, appeared at once to pain
and to soften him.
"He is a noble creature," he said, one day, speaking to Herries, who
had been decrying the young lord. "He may be ambitious, he may be
proud, and he must bear the brunt of his faults if they lead to acts;
but he is a noble creature, Sir Hugh; and when I look at him, I cannot
help thinking that he is like a gallant stag that has been marked out
for the slaughter."
"That is very likely," answered Herries, with a cold sneer. "One
generally chooses the finest beasts to lay the hounds at their heels;
but I've a notion, Ramsay, that a stag which carries its head so high
might become dangerous if one did not run him down before his antlers
were fully grown."
"Perhaps so," answered Ramsay; "more's the pity;" and he turned away
and left him.
While this brief conversation was passing, Gowrie was seated with his
brother and sister in a small room of the palace, talking quietly with
them just before his departure. They were all careful in what they
said, and the subject of the king's conduct and demeanour to the earl
since his return was never mentioned, for James's ubiquity was well
known in the palace, and no one was sure where the monarch might be at
the moment.
"Well, Gowrie," said Beatrice, "I shall try to get leave of absence
for a day or two while you are at Dirlton, and come and see you and my
mother; for there are a thousand things I want to talk to you about,
which I have never been able to speak of in this place, and never
should if we were to live here till we are gray-headed."
"Of no great moment, I dare say, dear Beatrice," replied the earl, "or
you could have come to talk over them all at my lodging in the
High-street."
"You men are all alike," said Beatrice, laughing; "you think all women
such frivolous creatures, that we can never have anything important to
say. Now, if I were to speak to you of the lady with the dark eyes,
whom you were bringing over from Italy, and who has never yet appeared
amongst us, would not that seem of moment, my lord and brother?"
"Hume has been telling tales," said Gowrie, laughing.
"Not a whit," answered Beatrice; "it is your own dear mother who told
the tales four or five months ago. She sent me your dutiful and humble
letter, my lord--I suppose to teach me to behave myself. But what have
you done with the dear girl? I long to see her soon.--Where have you
hid her?"
"In a place of great security, child," replied her brother, gaily, but
still upon his guard; "and you shall see her, too, as soon as I have
proved to his majesty--who has taken it into his head that she has got
all the Earl of Morton's treasures--that her whole dowry consisted of
two thousand gold ducats, and that she and her grandfather have been
living in actual poverty ever since they fled from Scotland, nineteen
years ago."
"But what could put it into the king's wise head that she had got the
regent's wealth?" asked Beatrice.
"Such a thing was not as unlikely as you think," replied Gowrie. "The
king has a shrewd scent for such things; and so convinced was he that
it was the case, he sent Lindores to meet me on the road from
Carlisle, and claim my poor Julia as a ward of the crown. Lindores was
vastly mortified when he found I had left her behind; and the same
night, to console himself, he got drunk, and told me the whole story
in his cups."
Beatrice laughed, and Alexander Ruthven laughed; but Gowrie went on,
saying, "I cannot venture to speak to his majesty on the subject
myself, and I have looked in vain for him to speak to me. I have
thrown the ball at his foot a dozen times, but he would not kick it;
though I have a shrewd notion, Beatrice, he would rather have me wed a
dowerless girl like this, than marry a rich bride."
"Hie, Alex, boy! Alex!" cried the voice of the king, certainly not
very far from the door. "Alex Ruthven, I say, is your good brother
gone?" and James himself entered the room unattended.
Every one instantly rose; and the king rolled on towards a seat, with
that peculiar ungainly shamble which was more conspicuous when he was
either moved by any strong emotion or wished to appear peculiarly
gracious. It was almost always a certain sign that the monarch was
dissembling favour when he approached any one with that roll very
strongly apparent.
The only one in the room, however, whose clear sight and long
observation enabled her to judge the truth, was Beatrice Ruthven, and
she stood and gazed sidelong at the king, while Gowrie hastened to
advance a chair.
"Weel, ye've an unkie cosy family council here," said James, seating
himself; "but, my good lord earl, there's something I wish to say to
you before you go--just in a private friendly kind of way."
"Now comes the matter of my fair Julia," thought Gowrie, and he
replied, "I am happy to be here to receive your majesty's commands."
But James had made up his mind not to utter one word upon the subject
which Gowrie thought he was about to touch upon, till the earl spoke
himself; and whether he had heard any part of the preceding
conversation or not--which will ever be a mystery--he kept his
resolution. "What I was about to say is this, my lord," he said. "We
are now at the twelfth of March, and on the twenty-third of the month
we propose to hold a council of our peers, to lay before them the
necessities of the state, which can only be subvented by the devising
of some new tax or subsidy from our faithful people, which may enable
us to carry on the work of government more at our ease--and very
little ease do we get for crowned kings, as the devil in hell kens,
who gives us so many troubles," continued James, in his more familiar
tone. "Now, my good lord, what I wish to say is, I must have your
advice and assistance in this matter, with other noble lords, like
yourself, and therefore I trust you will be back in time to give us
counsel, as you are sworn."
"Most assuredly, sire," replied Gowrie; "I will not fail to obey your
majesty's summons whenever it is sent. I shall be found at Dirleton,
or at my poor house in Perth."
"Moreover," continued the king, seeming hardly to notice the reply, "I
trust you will, as folks say, lend the king your shoulder in this
matter; for I can tell you, my lord, that we are sorely pinched and
straightened at this present, more than befits a king to be; and
trusting to your loyalty and affection, we believe that you will
farther us to the extent of your ability."
"If it cost me half my estate, I will, sire," replied Gowrie, frankly;
"it shall never be said that my king was in need, and I refused to do
my share as far as my private fortune would go."
"Well said--well said!" replied James; "I always knew you for a loyal
and faithful subject. But I fear, my good lord, that what any good
friend to the crown would do in his individual capacity--not that I
mean to refuse any free gift or kindly aid to the royal treasury, all
which should be repaid in bounties hereafter--but I fear it would go
but a little way to supply the vacuity in the finances--it would be
but a drop in a draw-well, man; and we must have a general tax, which
would spread the burden lightly and evenly upon all the good people."
"When your majesty's views are fully developed," replied Gowrie,
seeing that the king paused for an answer, "I will, according to my
bounden duty, offer you in all humility my conscientious advice upon
the subject."
"Ay, say you so, man?" said the king, with a slight frown upon his
brows; "well, I hope you will, and that your advice and my views may
run together. Go you first to Perth or to Dirleton, my lord?"
"Not to Perth, may it please your majesty," answered Gowrie; "I have
not yet seen my dear mother, thinking it my duty first to offer my
humble respects to you."
"There you were right--there you were right," said James; "the king
is, as it were, father to the whole land. When set you out?"
"This evening, sire," answered the earl; "and if I could obtain your
permission, and that of her majesty, I would fain take this wild girl
with me, as she has not seen me, before this last week, for seven
years, nor her mother for as many months."
"My leave you have, with my whole soul," replied the king; "and grace
go with her; for she found little here, brought little here, and will
leave little here. As to the queen, I doubt not her majesty will grant
her licence--soul of my body! if she doesn't, the lady is very likely
to take it!"
Gowrie's cheek turned a little red, for he had been long unused to a
coarseness of speech which was as different from frank honesty as it
was from courtly polish; but he replied not, having steadfastly
resolved to bridle his tongue on all but great and important
occasions, and to avoid every occasion of offence.
After a momentary pause, during which the king did not seem either
disposed to speak or move, Gowrie said, "Then we have your majesty's
permission to apply to the queen?"
"Ay, ay, lad!" answered James, in a dull heavy tone, rising, and
moving towards the door; "I dare to say she will not refuse you leave
to take her where you please." And then he muttered between his teeth
as he passed out, "and the de'il gang wi' ye."
Alexander Ruthven had opened the door for the king's exit, and after
closing it again, he said drily, as a sort of comment on the words he
had heard distinctly enough, "He means me: but I wish he had expressed
his permission more clearly."
"Meant you! by what, Alex?" demanded Gowrie.
"By the devil," answered Alexander Ruthven; "for he said to himself as
he was going out, 'The de'il gang wi' ye;' but we can't both be away
at the same time, I know, so I must even stay where I am."
"Besides, you have had your holiday, Alex," answered Beatrice; "and
like most boys when they return to school, came back no wiser or
steadier than they were before. But I'll run away to the queen, and
ask permission on my bended knees; then, if I get it, I shall be ready
when you will, Gowrie. Oh! how I shall rejoice in a wild gallop over
the hills!"
"Away!--away, then!" answered her brother; "and if Alex will give me
paper, I will write a letter to a friend in the mean time."
Away sped Beatrice to the queen's presence, and kneeling down on the
footstool before her, she preferred her petition.
"You must ask the king, love," said Anne of Denmark, who, with all her
many faults, and not very steady principles, was a kind-hearted and
amiable, as well as highly accomplished woman. "I can but ill spare
you, Beatrice; but far be it from me to keep you from any joyful
expedition; but you must ask the king's permission. You know he is
fond of despotic rule, even in his own household; and though I
struggle every now and then for the rights and liberties of women,
till he is fain to give way for the sake of a quiet house, yet I dare
not altogether take the rule even of my own maidens into my own
hands."
"But the king's permission has been obtained, dear lady," replied
Beatrice; and seeing a slight shade of displeasure come upon the
queen's face, as if she thought she ought to have been first asked,
the young lady added, "Gowrie asked the king himself, your majesty."
"Well, that is right," replied Anne of Denmark. "Tell your good
brother for me, that I regret we have had no means, since his return,
of entertaining him at our court; but we shall have balls and pageants
soon; and I trust to show him that we people of the north are not so
far behind his bright Italians. Now, kiss me, child, and go and
prepare."
Beatrice Ruthven needed no long preparation; but she went first to
make her arrangements with her brother, and it was agreed that he
should go back to his own dwelling in the town, and return for her in
a couple of hours. While speaking together, she caught sight of two
notes he had written during her absence, and with a blush and a laugh
laid her finger on the back of one, as he held it in his hand, ready
to send. "I can see the name, Gowrie," she said.
"Well, wild girl," he answered; "I will not send it if you dislike it.
It is only a note of invitation to Hume, asking him to meet us at
Dirleton. Shall I tear it?"
Her only reply was a playful tap on the cheek, and away she ran to get
ready.