Chapter 36
KING JAMES IS JASON, LEADER of the Argonauts, hero of the masque.
But unfortunately, Jason is so deep in wine by the time it comes for him to battle the fire-breathing oxen, he’s stumbling as much as standing on his feet.
Most of the assembled courtiers have kept up with the King in their consumption.
They cheer and shout encouragement at a volume he can hear; jeer and mock under their breath when he cannot.
Overlooking the performance, Elspet sits with Margaret at the end of a table covered with food – sides of beef and venison, plates of muirfowl and goose, bowls of plums, almonds and grapes.
It’s more food than Elspet’s ever seen – she thinks of the days she went hungry, when there was not enough food for the table of her little hoose in Orkneyjar – and then remembers Kitty’s words.
What would you have done? If you had all that wealth, all that waste?
The food is heavy in her stomach now, and she wishes the folk at home could see just a little of this excess.
Her eyes are fixed on the Queen, who sits on a throne on a raised plinth in the middle of the room, wearing Medea’s flowing white gown. It seems all that’s required of her is to watch Jason’s heroism with love and admiration.
The hall is growing hotter and stuffier by the minute. An enormous fire burns in the fireplace and tall candles crowd every available surface. The throng of folk, moving and laughing, are pressing against each other, sweating, drinking and eating as they watch the King’s performance.
Despite the distance between them, Elspet sees Queen Anna’s skin has a blessy white, waxy appearance. The Queen’s gaze has shifted from the King to drift unfocused around the hall. Worry pricks at Elspet’s skin and without realising what she’s doing, she starts to stand – Queen Anna isn’t well.
Her instincts are telling her to go to her, but the Queen sits in the middle of a room full of people; it would be far too conspicuous to approach now.
She looks around. Surely someone else has noticed her weakened state?
But all around them, drunken revelry and laughter reign.
The King continues to sway his way through the contest with the oxen. Most eyes in the room are on him.
Martin Schoner sits at the table a few places away from Margaret. He is one of the few whose eyes are not trained on Jason of the Argonauts’s battle – he is looking at Elspet with scrutiny and suspicion.
Elspet freezes – will he suspect her further if she shares her concerns for the Queen?
But she immediately disregards that worry; her spae-craft takes over.
It’s her responsibility to care for Queen Anna.
She looks from Schoner to the Queen – willing him to look at his charge’s blessy, sweating face and realise something isn’t right.
Schoner follows her gaze. The Queen’s condition is worsening – her eyes roll back in her head; she sways in her seat.
Without thinking, Elspet stands and starts to move through the throng.
She reaches the plinth just in time – the Queen falls forward and Elspet catches her, knees buckling as she struggles to bear Queen Anna’s weight and keep her from falling to the ground.
Schoner appears next to her and moves to the other side of the Queen, meeting Elspet’s gaze as he supports Queen Anna’s weight. Together they lift her gently back onto the throne.
‘She needs air,’ Elspet whispers to him. ‘Fresh air.’
Schoner frowns as if about to argue but then nods.
‘Something ails fair Medea?’ comes a loud voice from the throng in the hall. It is Bothwell, dressed as Idas the argonaut.
The King turns, noticing his wife’s swoon for the first time. Staggering as he turns, he looks from the Queen to Elspet to Schoner. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ he slurs.
Bothwell steps forward and puts a hand on the King’s arm. ‘Your prowess in battle against the oxen has sent the lady Medea into a swoon,’ he says, loudly enough for the assembled crowd to hear, ‘and who can blame her?’
The King smiles at this and Elspet sends a grateful look to Bothwell.
Schoner steps forward. ‘We must take her away – this is all too much for her.’
Between them, they lift the Queen and help her up and out of the throne and down from the plinth. Behind them, she hears Bothwell continue to appease the King. ‘The sight of such valour and masculinity would be too much for any woman,’ he says to cheers and sniggers from the crowd.
On their way out, they pass a red-faced Gilbert Primrose, slumped insensible in a corner, drooling from the corner of his mouth. As they leave the festivities behind, Elspet breathes a sigh of relief.
‘We should take her directly to her bedchamber,’ Schoner says.
‘No,’ Elspet says quickly. ‘She needs to be out in the fresh, open air. I’d like her to have a cup of tea infused with crampbark leaves, and a good dose of the rose syrup. And she needs to eat some nutritious food, not just sugar and ale.’
Martin Schoner stops in his tracks and stares at her. ‘Who are you?’
There’s no time to worry about his growing suspicions. ‘You have to trust me,’ Elspet says simply. ‘I know you’re tasked with keeping the King’s child safe and well – and following my advice is our best chance.’
While Schoner is frozen in silent shock, footsteps echo behind them, and Margaret appears. ‘What can I do?’ she asks.
‘Help me take Her Majesty into the garden,’ Elspet instructs, then turns to the physician. ‘Schoner, could you go to the kitchen and ask for some simple food, broth and bread, something easy to eat. Bring it out into the garden and meet us there.’
Schoner looks affronted. ‘You want the Queen of Scotland to eat broth in a garden? And you want me to fetch it?’
Elspet glances at the Queen’s face and nods firmly. ‘We must hurry. It is the best chance of her recovering and keeping the bairn well.’
‘I strongly advise you to listen to Lady Alvah,’ Margaret says.
Schoner looks at Elspet, scrutinising her with such attention she begins to squirm, despite her impatience. Then he glances back in the direction of the hall, where the King is no doubt getting even drunker. Lines of worry crease on Schoner’s face.
Then he seems to make up his mind. ‘I will meet you in the garden in ten minutes.’ He walks away, in the direction of the palace kitchen.