The Green Man

‘What … What happened?’ I asked.

‘My dear fellow, you very nearly fainted,’ Albany said and smiled. ‘I’ve been working you too hard. You’ve been running about the whole day and I daresay you haven’t even had your supper yet. Sit here quietly and I’ll see that food and drink is brought to you. No one will be returning to the Council Chamber this evening. We’ve finished our deliberations for the day.’ His tone had turned sour once more, reminded of his grievances.

But I was not to be deflected by talk of food and rest, although I was feeling in need of both.

‘What gods were you referring to, my lord?’

‘Did I say that?’ He attempted a look of surprise, as though it was something I had imagined. And indeed I might well have thought so, had I not heard him use the words earlier.

‘You did.’ I spoke positively, giving him no room for argument.

He wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably and grimaced. ‘It was just an expression for Fate or Chance or whatever it is that rules our lives and makes each one of us what we are; that equips us with the gifts life doles out to us.’

‘You don’t think we owe all that to God?’ I was being far bolder than I should have been, but I felt intuitively that Albany would not reprimand me. He appeared uneasy, like a man who had allowed his tongue to run away with him and was now wondering how he could retrieve the situation.

‘I think the Almighty may need help now and then, don’t you? No! Don’t answer me. This is neither the time nor place to enter into a theological discussion. You need that rest and food I promised you, while I must go and sup with my beloved kinfolk and my erstwhile allies.’ The bitterness was back in his voice with a vengeance and mixed now with an underlying anger, all the more potent for being carefully suppressed. He paused for a moment, controlling his rampant emotions. When he spoke again, his tone was smooth. ‘Do as I bid you. Stay here and I’ll have supper sent to you.’ Suddenly he smiled as though his mind had been wiped clean of all care and worry in an instant. ‘And on that other matter, trust me. You will find, tomorrow, when we ransack Master Buchanan’s house that the diary will be found.’

‘My lord-’ I began, half rising from my seat.

But Albany pushed me down again, his irritation once more floating to the surface.

‘I want no further argument, Roger. Believe me when I tell you that I know my premonition is correct. I repeat, trust me!’

He was gone. I heard the outer door of the ante-room close behind him and I was left alone in the empty Council Chamber that still seemed to echo to the sound of his voice. The watery twilight of the August day was seeping through the room, and long shadows inched their way across the rush-strewn floor. A small log fire, which had previously gone unnoticed, smouldered on the hearth; then, with a sudden explosion of noise that made me jump, a tempestuous squall of rain beat against the window. The fire spurted and flared. A bubble of resin burst with a little splutter.

I suddenly felt unutterably weary, my whole body like lead, my mind stupid and confused. There was nothing to be surprised at in this, I told myself. It had been a long day; a very long day. It was only this morning that we had ridden into Edinburgh, although it seemed more like half a week away; only this morning, in the guest chamber at Holy Rood Abbey, that Donald had informed Albany of Rab Sinclair’s arrest, a name totally unknown to me then, but now burned into my consciousness with letters of fire; only this morning that I had first set eyes on this castle perched on its great rock, hanging, or so it seemed to me, halfway between heaven and earth. And since then, I had trotted busily around the city, questioning, observing and generally being lied to. Well, someone was lying. He, or maybe she, had to be.

But these things were not really the cause of the lassitude that suddenly held me in an iron grip. There was something more; something that had its roots in my recent conversation with Albany perhaps, or even in his actual presence. But surely that was foolishness. I had never before felt disturbed by his company. I had always known him to be arrogant, self-satisfied, concerned with no one but himself and his own desires. But then he was a prince. What else could one expect of royalty, bred up as they were in conceit and self-importance from the earliest age? And yet, until now, I had found him easy-going enough, although there had always been an invisible line across which one dared not step. But that was so with most people, king or peasant. He was unwise in many ways. Then again, who was not?

There was another burst of rain against the window and a spattering of hail came down the chimney to sizzle and melt among the dying flames on the hearth. Shadows leaped up the walls, then retreated silently, succeeded by an almost eerie stillness. I found myself shivering although I was not conscious of feeling cold. I remained bodily tired, but not sleepy. In fact the earlier confusion of mind was beginning to clear.

I thought once more about the reason given me by Albany for my presence on this expedition; this military invasion that had fractured and splintered apart, descending, as far as he was concerned, into one of those farces played out at fairs to the ribald laughter of the crowds. I had been selected as his protector to guard him from assassination attempts from either ill-wishers within the English camp, who considered it a poor decision to try to enthrone him as King of Scots, or — and this, it seemed, had been Albany’s main fear — from one of the late Earl of Mar’s adherents who was really in the pay of his brother, King James. And yet, when I looked back over the past weeks, it appeared to me that this fear came and went at his convenience. When it had suited the duke that I should be elsewhere, he had never jibbed at being alone with any one of the five.

All the same, there had been attempts on Albany’s life. There was the incident of his horse at Fotheringay Castle when Pegasus had nearly thrown him, and the attempted stabbing at York … I was growing confused again, not sure what to think. The rain had decreased to a steady drumming against the oiled panes of the chamber window, like ghostly fingers beating out a tattoo; rhythmic, sleep-inducing. My eyelids began to droop …

I glanced up and saw Albany standing in front of me, but as I watched, his head gradually sprouted leaves and branches until it became that of the Green Man. The foliage began to spread, shoots writhing and coiling out of his mouth, filling the room, reaching towards me; then one, longer than the rest, snaked around my neck, tightening its grip, choking me so that I could no longer breathe. My heart was hammering against my ribs as I gasped for air …

Someone was shaking me.

‘Wake up, Master Chapman! Wake up! You’re riding the Night Mare!’ It was Davey’s voice, half laughing, half concerned. ‘What a noise you’re making. As if you’re being strangled.’

The page was standing by my chair, looking down at me, his hand on my shoulder. On the table was a tray, and I could smell the rich aroma of the stew that had obviously been served up in the servants’ hall for supper. There was also a jug and beaker alongside the wooden bowl and spoon and a hunk of bread. Albany had sent my meal as he had promised.

I was sweating profusely. I could feel it coursing down my back underneath my shirt, but at the same time, I felt cold. I passed a hand across my forehead. It came away soaking wet. I sat up straighter in my chair, trying not to look foolish, and gave an awkward laugh.

‘Davey! I must have fallen asleep. I was dreaming.’

‘It must have been a pretty horrible dream,’ my companion condoled. ‘Never mind, you’re awake now. Here’s your supper. My lord said I was to bring it to you. When you’ve finished, come across to the common hall. Donald’s kept you a space and a blanket. Not that I think any of us will get much sleep tonight. Too much snoring. And too much farting,’ he added, ‘especially after that pottage. It’s full of beans, so be warned. By the way, the duke’s very pleased with you. I heard him telling Donald and Murdo that you’ve solved the problem — whatever that is.’ He gave me a suddenly impish grin. ‘So it’s been worthwhile bringing you, after all.’