Read Online The Gowrie Conspiracy by Alanna Knight - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alanna Knight
Ads: Link
lost long ago.
The site of the palace had been granted to the Macduff Earls of Fife in the 12th century and passed to Robert Stewart, later Duke of Albany in 1371. Gazing up at its lofty grey walls untouched by sunlight, its windows deep and dark in cold morning shadow held secret tales of savage cruelty and treachery not unknown in royal palaces. Here, on the site of the present magnificent Palace, David, Duke of Rothesay, eldest son of King Robert III, was kept prisoner and starved to death by his uncle Albany in 1402.
The 15th century saw the lands reverted to the Crown and the modest castle had become the favourite hunting seat of the Scottish kings who were James’s ancestors. A hundred years ago in 1500, the king’s great-grandfather, James IV, began construction of Falkland Palace. Completed by his grandfather James V as a royal residence, it was made up of buildings which formed three sides of an informal quadrangle The great south range with its twin-storeyed gatehouse, built in the style of the French Renaissance and containing the chapel royal, faced on to the burgh’s main street.
Tam crossed the inner courtyard of the east range with its royal lodgings and emerged into the gardens whose shaded walks and high hedges afforded privacy for dalliance and forconspiracy.
His head down deep in thought, too late he became aware of voices and found himself in the path of King James, who was accompanied by several of his courtiers and leaning on the arm of the Duke of Lennox.
Tam bowed low and stepped aside for them to pass, hoping that he would be invisible as the king, clutching his beribboned staff, talked loudly to Lennox.
Tam was unlucky. James saw him, stopped and said, ‘Bide a wee, Vicky.’ And beaming in Tam’s direction. ‘Weel now, if it isna the fisherman again. What brings ye here, Master Eildor?’
Without waiting for the reply which Tam was already framing, he went on, ‘Are ye here to rescue your king from a matter as dire as yon runaway horse?’ and put his hand to his lips in a conspiratorial manner.
Tam bowed. Some response was expected of him. ‘What would that be, sire?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Being bored to death – by idle chatter, aye, that’s it, the company o’ fools,’ said James. Slapping his thigh and doubling up with mirth at his own wit, he darted hard looks at the courtiers who were obliged to fall about with suitable exclamations of merriment.
James gave a satisfied grunt and said, ‘We are on our way to the tennis court, Master Eildor, and we would have you accompany us.’
That was a command and Tam bowed again.
‘Walk with us,’ said James. ‘Here at your king’s side,’ he added. Giving Tam an appreciative glance, ‘We will lean on Master Eildor. He looks as if he might bear his monarch’s weight,’ he added with a faint leer and, pushing Lennox unceremoniously aside, he gestured to Tam to take his place.
Although Lennox bowed out gracefully enough, Tam was aware of the venomous look that boded ill for him.
‘And does our simple fisherman play the game?’ James demanded.
Tam thought quickly. He knew something of ancient games and was interested enough to meet the challenge. Realising that to refuse would displease the king, he hoped that his bow and accompanying smile conveyed sufficient enthusiasm. As well as curiosity to see the royal court in action, the occasion promised a rare opportunity to enjoy some serious exercise.
On one of their walks Tansy she had told him that the game was introduced into Scotland and built at Falkland by the king’s grandfather, a great enthusiast for all things French, in the year before his death in 1492.
Its origins were as “jes des paume”, game of the palm, some 300 years earlier by monks playing handball against the monastery walls.
‘The word “tennis” is from the French “tenez” – “take this” – as one player served to another across a rope in the courtyard,’ Tansy told him. ‘Bare
The site of the palace had been granted to the Macduff Earls of Fife in the 12th century and passed to Robert Stewart, later Duke of Albany in 1371. Gazing up at its lofty grey walls untouched by sunlight, its windows deep and dark in cold morning shadow held secret tales of savage cruelty and treachery not unknown in royal palaces. Here, on the site of the present magnificent Palace, David, Duke of Rothesay, eldest son of King Robert III, was kept prisoner and starved to death by his uncle Albany in 1402.
The 15th century saw the lands reverted to the Crown and the modest castle had become the favourite hunting seat of the Scottish kings who were James’s ancestors. A hundred years ago in 1500, the king’s great-grandfather, James IV, began construction of Falkland Palace. Completed by his grandfather James V as a royal residence, it was made up of buildings which formed three sides of an informal quadrangle The great south range with its twin-storeyed gatehouse, built in the style of the French Renaissance and containing the chapel royal, faced on to the burgh’s main street.
Tam crossed the inner courtyard of the east range with its royal lodgings and emerged into the gardens whose shaded walks and high hedges afforded privacy for dalliance and forconspiracy.
His head down deep in thought, too late he became aware of voices and found himself in the path of King James, who was accompanied by several of his courtiers and leaning on the arm of the Duke of Lennox.
Tam bowed low and stepped aside for them to pass, hoping that he would be invisible as the king, clutching his beribboned staff, talked loudly to Lennox.
Tam was unlucky. James saw him, stopped and said, ‘Bide a wee, Vicky.’ And beaming in Tam’s direction. ‘Weel now, if it isna the fisherman again. What brings ye here, Master Eildor?’
Without waiting for the reply which Tam was already framing, he went on, ‘Are ye here to rescue your king from a matter as dire as yon runaway horse?’ and put his hand to his lips in a conspiratorial manner.
Tam bowed. Some response was expected of him. ‘What would that be, sire?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Being bored to death – by idle chatter, aye, that’s it, the company o’ fools,’ said James. Slapping his thigh and doubling up with mirth at his own wit, he darted hard looks at the courtiers who were obliged to fall about with suitable exclamations of merriment.
James gave a satisfied grunt and said, ‘We are on our way to the tennis court, Master Eildor, and we would have you accompany us.’
That was a command and Tam bowed again.
‘Walk with us,’ said James. ‘Here at your king’s side,’ he added. Giving Tam an appreciative glance, ‘We will lean on Master Eildor. He looks as if he might bear his monarch’s weight,’ he added with a faint leer and, pushing Lennox unceremoniously aside, he gestured to Tam to take his place.
Although Lennox bowed out gracefully enough, Tam was aware of the venomous look that boded ill for him.
‘And does our simple fisherman play the game?’ James demanded.
Tam thought quickly. He knew something of ancient games and was interested enough to meet the challenge. Realising that to refuse would displease the king, he hoped that his bow and accompanying smile conveyed sufficient enthusiasm. As well as curiosity to see the royal court in action, the occasion promised a rare opportunity to enjoy some serious exercise.
On one of their walks Tansy she had told him that the game was introduced into Scotland and built at Falkland by the king’s grandfather, a great enthusiast for all things French, in the year before his death in 1492.
Its origins were as “jes des paume”, game of the palm, some 300 years earlier by monks playing handball against the monastery walls.
‘The word “tennis” is from the French “tenez” – “take this” – as one player served to another across a rope in the courtyard,’ Tansy told him. ‘Bare
Similar Books
