The Rose Demon

put his cup down on the floor and drew a long Italian stiletto from the sleeve of his gown.

    Matthias froze as this madcap king pricked his neck, just beneath his left ear.

    ‘You are telling me you have no powers? None whatsoever?’ He leant closer. ‘I have a mirror, you know,’ James whispered. ‘And if a Black Mass is offered in the room, and you say the Lord’s Prayer backwards, you can see the future. Can’t you tell me the future, Matthias Fitzosbert?’

    ‘I know two things, sire,’ Matthias replied, not daring to move his head.

    ‘About the future?’

    ‘Yes, sire.’

    ‘So, you do have powers?’

    ‘I can tell you two things from the future,’ Matthias repeated. ‘You are going to die and so am I.’

    The King stared unbelievingly at him, then he giggled like some old maid, fingers over his mouth. He dropped his hand, the dagger disappeared back up the sleeve of his gown. James struck Matthias gently on the shoulder.

    ‘You answered well, Englishman.’ His smile faded. ‘If you had replied any different, I’d have hanged you.’

    Matthias let out a deep sigh.

    ‘So, you say you are a clerk?’

    Matthias answered his questions and realised that, beneath the madness, James was weak and suspicious, with a deep interest in the sciences, particularly the work of bookbinders and parchment-makers.

    They sat and chatted for a while. Matthias didn’t really understand if the King was genuinely interested or just wanted to make Douglas kick his heels for as long as possible. An hour passed. James turned the conversation to Barnwick. When Matthias mentioned the haunting of the north tower and Douglas’ destruction of it, the King beat a fist against his spindly thighs.

    ‘He shouldn’t have done that! He shouldn’t have done that! I would have liked to have visited such a place.’ James leant closer. ‘They say this abbey is haunted,’ he whispered, ‘by a monk who didn’t say his Mass properly. I have spent many a night sitting on my arse in that cold place but I’ve glimpsed nothing but moonbeams and rats. What hour is it?’

    ‘Sire, I don’t know. It must be late in the afternoon.’

    ‘Is it now, is it now?’ the King murmured, his fingers to his lips. ‘I must go to the abbey and say my prayers.’ He glanced slyly at Matthias. ‘I’ve still got Cochrane’s body here, you know,’ James declared, referring to his dead favourite. ‘I had him embalmed and laid out in a splendid coffer. I hear Mass, then I talk to Cochrane about all of my troubles. I’ll ask him about you. I know he’ll agree I shouldn’t hang you. You don’t like the Douglas, do you?’ James grasped Matthias’ wrist. ‘So you can stay with me.’

    The King got to his feet, tossing the rest of his wine on to the fire. He walked to the door and threw it open.

    ‘Ah, Douglas, I didn’t think you’d wait, man.’

    Lord George came into the room, biting his lip in anger. He was followed by the captain of the guard.

    ‘Take this Englishman.’ The King pointed to Matthias. ‘No, I don’t want him hanged. Give him a chamber here in the household. He’ll have three marks a month and fresh robes at Easter. He can eat at the royal board. I’ve got to go to church now.’

    The King went to leave but paused in the doorway.

    ‘Oh, Douglas, the plunder from Barnwick: I’m your king so, by law and ancient custom, I’ll have half of it.’

    Douglas bowed stiffly from the waist but the King had already left, shouting at his guards to follow.

    The royal officer led Matthias and Douglas out of the King’s chambers and up some stairways. Matthias was shown into a small, white-washed room. The captain of the guard gestured round.

    ‘This is yours, Englishman.’ He grasped Matthias by the shoulder. ‘I’ll get servants to bring sheets and blankets for the bed. I’ll also give you some advice, lad. Never anger the King. Never contradict him. If you do,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘as sure as my name’s Archibald Kennedy, he’ll have you hanged!’

    The captain left. Douglas closed the door and leant on it.

    ‘So, what do you think of our king?’

    Matthias sat down on a stool and stretched his legs. He felt weak after such a fraught meeting.

    ‘A most gracious prince, my lord.’

    ‘Spare me your sarcasm, Englishman. The man’s as mad as a moonstruck hare. You know he’ll kill you?’

    ‘My life is in God’s hands, my lord.’

    ‘He’ll kill you.’ Douglas played