Unicorn Rampant (8 page)

James actually clapped his hands in delight, sparks flying from the flapping match-rope. Then he ran to the next cannon, a basilisk this one, and lit the primer.

Again the mind-cleaving detonation, a little less powerful than the first but sufficient to bludgeon the senses. Not the King's, however. Gleefully he sped to the neighbouring basilisk, and then the next, bellowing his enthusiasm.

There were only four pieces on either side of Mons Meg, some of the ports being empty; so their liege-lord had to go shambling back, to start on the other four. The echoes and re-echoes reverberated from all Edinburgh's hills in thunderous rivalry.

The royal cannoneer was so expeditious about it that he was back at Mons Meg well before it was fully re-primed, dancing his impatience.

"Quicker, dolts!" he shouted, but slapped the back of the master-gunner nevertheless. "You are fell slow! Hae them all primed, man Borthwick, so t
hat I can keep them whanging w
ithoot pause. A right batteration! Haste you—all o' you!"

So the deafening din recommenced and continued, and if there were any brief interludes, the echoes filled them and there was no respite. Those without ear-plugs clutched their heads, or covered them with clothing—or better, fled for cover indoors, Steenie, the Bishop and the other hawkers amongst the first. Borthwick seemed impervious, presumably inured; but John was dazed, all but paralysed. Surely never, even in time of war and siege had Edinburgh heard so much gunfire and in such quick succession.

Presently, of course, the powder ran out, raggedly. James was dismayed, indignant. There must be more, he declared. A great fortress the size of Edinburgh must have more powder than that. Besides, he had not yet fired his cannon-ball.

Borthwick admitted that there was more powder in the cellars. James could not hear him, of course, until he removed his ear-plugs.

"Then get it, man. Have it up. It's no' every day you'd get a chance to breenge it off this way!
Fulmen brutum,
eh?"

Whilst the Master of the Ordnance went to obey the royal command, his sovereign polished off the remains of his outdoor meal with evident appreciation.

John would have made good his escape; but James, finding the rest of his party bolted, turned on the young man, to read him a lecture on the different kinds of cannon and demi-cannon, culverins, sakers, falcons, falconets, basilisks and so on, their merits and demerits, weights, ranges and powder-requirements, all sounding most expert, the more so as interspersed with approximately apposite Latin tags. He was still at it when Lord Borthwick arrived back, leading a file of men bearing on their shoulders more kegs of gunpowder.

Nothing would do but that a ball must be fired at Geordie Heriot's site. James chose the second basilisk from the right, declaring that he liked the feel of this one and informing that the feel of a cannon was as important as that of a woman, with sundry similarities pointed out. For a man so interested in pretty youths, he was very knowledgeable about the opposite sex—His most catholic Majesty, as the Duke of Lennox was apt to put it.

Loaded, primed and aimed, he was about to apply the match when Borthwick, nervous for that cheerful character, intervened hurriedly. The aim, he suggested, was a little off, only a little perhaps, but enough to put the ball into Greyfriars Churchyard.

The King denied that, indignantly, and would not hear of the other adjusting the lay. However he did edge the barrel just slightly to the right, unobtrusively, before igniting the charge.

The bang on this occasion had a more muffled sound to it, the smoke-cloud being different too. A black fountain of earth and rubble rose satisfactorily at the very edge of the open ground above and behind the Grassmarket, and within only yards of the kirkyard wall.

"Bonny! Bonny!" James admired. "A notable shot! Did I no' tell the aim was fine and guid, man Borthwick?" And before there could be any other view expressed, he added, "Come, then—let's get on wi' the whanging. In wi' the powder
..."

The bombardment of the ears recommenced.

In the midst of this the Duke, the Secretary of State and others arrived, having come hot-foot up from Holyrood when the first cannonade started. They came to all but plead that the monarch should now come down to the City Chambers where the banquet was still being held preserved, in some state, and ambassadors, churchmen and the illustrious of two nations had been waiting for hours.

James, with the second lot of powder all but exhausted, was prepared to consider this—but not to be hurried. The newcomers were not to get away without an exposition and demonstration of the cannon and its delights and quirks, before at last they could escort their master down into the city.

Edinburgh uncovered its ears thankfully.

Equally grateful to be forgotten in all this excitement, John Stewart went to return his borrowed horse to Holyrood and then hastened back to his mother's lodging.

It was early rising for them all next morning—despite the fact that the Duke did not win back to Mary's bed until the small hours, being unable to get away from his royal cousin at what had become a hard-drinking party at the Secretary of State's house in the Cowgate. The evening's arranged programme had been dinner with a select few, hosted by Lord
Tam
; but since the city banquet, so delayed in its start, did not finish until early evening, the guests, full of food, merely moved down Libberton's Wynd to the former French Ambassador's House and, dispensing with the actual meal, started on the liquor. This, fortunately or otherwise, was in plentiful supply, and James in high spirits. Hence Ludovick's belated return.

As indicated, the King paid little attention to clocks, and this early start was necessary if the royal cavalcade was to reach Linlithgow, eighteen miles away, for the mid-day meal to be provided there, with suitable elaborations. It transpired that John, whom the monarch now appeared to look upon as something of a mascot and help-in-trouble, was expected to go along. And since they were all making for Stirling after that, which was on her way back to Methven, Mary Gray took the chance of Ludovick's company at least as far as this, and went along too.

So they had to be up betimes, despite the Duke's sore head, packed up, mounted and down to Holyrood all too soon after cock-crow. There they found the usual chaos, compounded by the fact that Steenie was nowhere to be discovered. He had left
Tam
o' the Cowgate's party early, having as yet only a moderate head for liquor, James advising his bed. Apparently he had not been seen since, and his couch in the royal chamber had not been occupied. Great
was the upset, the King refusing to set off without his youthful gossip.

With another day's arrangements looking like being disorganised, the handsome Chancellor, Lord Fyvie, backed by the Secretary of State and others, was trying to persuade James to make a move, assuring him that the Earl of Buckingham would have come to no harm in the capital city, that he had no doubt gone to ground in one of the many ale-houses between the Cowgate and Holyrood, and would appear in due course and come along after them. Such large cavalcade could move only slowly, as they all knew, so Steenie would no doubt catch them up quite soon.

James was not convinced, fearing a variety of disasters, and threatening himself to go searching for his lost lamb, when his strangely lustrous eye fell on John Stewart, standing listening beside his father and mother. The royal expression lightened somewhat and he pointed at his humble kinsman, whom he obviously considered to be Edinburgh's answer to most problems.

"You, Johnnie Stewart, knight—God be thankit!
You'll
find Steenie Villiers for me. You'll ken where to look in this ill toun! Belike some wicked rogues and scoundrels ha' taken hold o' him
..."

"I think that highly unlikely, James," Ludovick said. He sounded a little sour this morning. "The entire city has been waiting to welcome you. All sturdy beggars, sorners and wastrels have been driven out, by your own express orders. All remaining seek to pleasure you. None would mistake George Villiers for anything but one of your company! None could be more safe in Edinburgh today."

"I agree, Sire," the Secretary of State said.

"I'm no' sae sure. There's ay ill folk aboot, seeking whom they may devour. I blame mysel', mind. The puir laddie was no' right when he left your house last night,
Tam
Hamilton. I shouldna hae let him go alone. Neither should you. I should hae seen him to his bit bed, the innocent loon!"

The Duke somehow managed to disguise his choke as a cough. "That would have been ridiculous, James! He is not a child, God knows! He will be sleeping it off somewhere.

We should be on our way. They await us at Linlithgow and then at Stirling. Johnnie Mar will have all ready for you
..."

"Easy for you to talk, Vicky! You'll find him for me, Johnnie Stewart? You're a guid lad. Aye, and wi' mair gumption than your faither! Bring him safe after us. And quickly, mind."

"I will do my best, Sire."

"Aye, you will! Tak a troop o' the Guard, if you need them."

"I would not think that to be necessary, Your Majesty." John bowed and hurried to his horse, before he got any further extravagant instructions.

Trotting away from the crowded palace-forecourt, he pondered his problem. Probably the suggestion that Villiers would have found his way into one of the innumerable taverns and ale-houses was the most likely answer. The trouble was where to start looking. If he was in an inebriated state when he left Hamilton's house, or feeling sick as he might well be, he might not get far. So it would be sensible to start at the top end.

John rode up the Cowgate, the street and its offshooting wynds all but deserted at this hour, save for scavenging dogs and rooting pigs and poultry—and noted gloomily that none of the numerous hostelries and dens appeared to be open yet. It was the best part of a mile to the French Ambassador's House.

There he dismounted, after riding into the courtyard, hitched his horse to a post and went to rap on the door. Since the owner was with the King at Holyrood, presumably his servants had long been up and about. John was not so well acquainted with Edinburgh's amenities as his liege-lord assumed.

The serving-wench who answered thereafter produced the establishment's major-domo whom, in the King's name, John promptly enlisted in the project, assuming that he would be likely to be more knowledgeable as to the Cowgate than himself. This worthy, at first doubtful, warmed to the quest when he learned that the monarch's favourite was involved. He was able to recollect a young man leaving the house considerably b
efore the others, and indicated,
without actually saying so, that he had been considerably the worse for liquor but had brushed aside suggestions of an escort. Further enquiry from the night-porter at the courtyard-gate—who had to be roused from his bed to answer—revealed that the illustrious young reveller had in fact turned left-handed, westwards, on issuing from the gate, instead of right, in other words
up
Cowgate not down towards Holyrood—presumably too drunk to know the difference.

This information put a different complexion on the matter—unless of course Buckingham had presently discovered his mistake and turned back. For it was not far from the Hamilton house to the head of the Cowgate, and according to the major-domo there was only the one alehouse in between. John insisted that he come along with him to enquire there.

After considerable banging at the door of a low-browed den in the basement of a tall tenement decorated with a handsome coat-of-arms and godly motto, a slatternly old wife, wrapped in a tartan shawl, eventually opened up, screeching abuse. She toned down at the sight of the major-domo however, whom she obviously knew; but assured that she had no young men sleeping within, no man of any sort, hers being a respectable house—as Mr Purves knew well. When Mr Purves looked sceptical at that, she added that, if it was
that
sort of house they were looking for, they need not go further than round the comer into Candlemaker Row where there were no fewer than three stews for their inspection.

Cowgatehead, in a mere fifty yards, opened on to the Grassmarket, with the West Bow ascending on the right and Candlemaker Row on the left. Where to look in all these? The Grassmarket was full of ale-houses and taverns, as became a major marketplace. But where to start?

John had an idea. Villiers, with the rest of the royal party, had apparently come down Libberton's Wynd from the City Chambers, in the first place. If he was in something of a drunken stupor when he left the Hamilton house alone, then
he might be vaguely looking for
a narrow street climbing up on the left, Libberton's Wynd. Candlemaker
Row did that, on this other side. He might well have turned up there by mistake.

Mr Purves admitted the possibility, shaking his head censoriously. No doubt it ill became such as himself, the Secretary of State's chief servitor, to go rapping on the doors of houses of ill-fame at this or any other hour of the day—and apparently all the hostelries in Candlemaker Row approximated to that description. But John was adamant— and this was on the King's business.