The Patriot

by Nigel Tranter

  "I think not," That was terse.

  "Sir - you are not refusing to contribute? To this most necessary cause. It should be considered a privilege."

  "No doubt. But I have other privileges to consider at the moment."

  "What could be more urgent, sir? I understand that you are a man of property. In Scotland. If you have not sufficient moneys to hand at this time, I would accept a written warrant ..."

  "Mr. Dare," Home intervened, aware of his companion's famed temper, "I think that you should leave the matter meantime. Mr. Fletcher is otherwise concerned at this moment. Another time, perhaps . . ."

  "Sirs, another time may be too late. This most essential invasion must be mounted without delay. It is already almost a month since the Papist usurper grasped England's throne. He must be unseated before he can further secure himself. Every week will count against us. Here is no time for faintheartedness and penny-pinching. Moreover," Dare leaned closer, dropping his rather strident West Country voice. "Due and heartfelt aid now will most certainly merit the most tangible royal appreciation. Office preferment, a knighthood perhaps. Even a baronetcy might be considered - although that would be more expensive . . ."

  "My God!" Andrew's clenched fist rose quivering before the other's florid face. "You . . . you . . . !" That temper all but choked him. "How dare you! How dare you, sir! Think to buy me, like some huckster! I could horsewhip you for that, do you hear? Horsewhip . . . !"

  Home grasped his arm. "Andrew - come. Not now, not here — of a mercy! Let us leave . . ."

  "Aye, leave indeed! This place, these people, are beyond all bearing. If I had known that this was not to be a meeting, a council, but a market, a saleroom . . . !"

  "Yes, yes -I am sorry. I had no notion of it, Andrew. Let us be off . . ."

  But escape just then was contra-indicated. There was a commotion at the principal doorway, a trumpet blew, and with all the flourish of a royal entry the Duke of Monmouth was ushered into the hall. Everywhere men turned to bow.

  "Lord - we can scarcely leave now," Home said. "It would be considered an insult."

  "He is not King yet!" But Andrew accepted that they must wait, meantime. However hot-tempered, he was not a discourteous man.

  Argyll, Grey and the others formed themselves into a tight group round the Duke, to escort him through the assembly. He moved with dignity, slowly, with a suitably regal carriage, acknowledging the salutes and genuflections of the company. As he came level with Andrew and Home, Lord Grey touched the ducal arm and nodded. Monmouth raised his brows, inclined his head and passed on.

  "At least he is not begging for money!" Andrew observed. "Nor, it seems, eager to consult us!"

  "No. But now that he knows that we are here, we can scarcely leave. Without due permission. I cannot, anyway. . ."

  "This is not Holyroodhouse and he the Lord High Commissioner, man! He is but another exile - and the King's bastard!"

  "Perhaps. But all here are united in accepting him as the man who should be King. And treating him accordingly. Besides, since I am in Argyll's confidence as regards his plans, I feel that I must stay now that the Duke has come ..."

  "You are? Argyll has plans, then? Not just vague hopes?"

  "Oh, yes. Plans well advanced. The hopes are that he may convince Monmouth and his people to strike at the same time. Argyll has been planning a return to Scotland long before Monmouth came to Holland, a return in strength and arms. He has Clan Campbell all prepared to rise. He says that when he lands in his own Argyll, nine or ten thousand of his own name will draw sword for him. If a second stroke is aimed at the Lowlands, with Loudoun, Cochrane and such as myself leading, then Scotland, it is hoped, will rise, all Protestant Scotland, North and South."

  "Patrick - these are not plans! They are still only vague hopes. Has it escaped your memory that though the Campbells are a Protestant clan, in name, most of the Highland clans are not? And they are united in one respect - they all hate the Campbells! A Campbell-led rising in the Highlands will ensure that the rest of the North will not join in!"

  "But . . ."

  "And the Campbells are scarcely loved in the Lowlands, as you know well. Have you forgot the Highland Host of a few years back? Eight thousand Campbells let loose in Renfrew, Cunninghame and Carrick, to do their worst, on Lauderdale's business! That will be remembered for long. I say that you could scarcely have a worse name to lead a Scottish rising than MacCailean Mor!"

  "Yet he has the men . . ."

  The Duke and his party had disappeared into an ante-room at the head of the hall; and from this the man Dare emerged, to push his way purposefully through the throng. It was to themselves that he headed, disapprovingly.

  "Sir Patrick and Mr. Fletcher," he jerked. "His Royal Highness grants you audience. Come."

  The pair exchanged glances.

  "I do not seek such audience . . ." Andrew began, but the Alderman had already turned back, to lead them. Home touched his friend's arm and followed.

  They were ushered into the ante-room where about a dozen, mainly Englishmen, drank with Monmouth. An argument seemed to be in progress between two of the company, evidently on the subject of cavalry tactics, the rest listening with varying degrees of interest, the Duke most obviously so. Andrew knew the younger man to be Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree, son of the Earl of Dundonald and quite a noted soldier. The other was a stocky, grizzled elderly man, plainly-dressed and assertive of manner.

  They waited.

  At length Monmouth acknowledged their presence and waved the disputants to silence. "Ah, Sir Patrick. And Mr. Fletcher," he said pleasantly, "you find us exercised with matters military. About which, more and more, we must concern ourselves, I fear. I greet you kindly, gentlemen. When last we met, Mr. Fletcher, it was under very different circumstances."

  "Indeed, my lord Duke - since when many good men have died."

  "Sadly, yes. I grieve for them. In especial, to be sure, my royal father."

  As all murmured suitably, Andrew merely inclined his head slightly.

  The Duke went on more briskly. "We are here, however, concerned with practical and very essential affairs. And would welcome the counsel of you gentlemen. You, Mr. Fletcher, are prominent in the Scottish parliament - or were. In the event of my lord of Argyll's landing and rising being successful - for which we pray God - how would the Scots parliament greet a proclamation of myself as King, think you? Protestant King of Scots?"

  Andrew hesitated, as well he might. "That, sir, would depend on many factors," he said, at length. "On who proclaimed it. When. Where. And whether the rising was successful in the Lowlands. In our parliament not one commissioner in ten comes from the Highlands."

  "M'mm. We would hope, to be sure, that the Lowlands would indeed rise strongly to our Protestant banner. But my lord's intention is, of course, to land first in his own Argyll, raise the clans and then march south. Would proclamation of myself as King not greatly aid his reception in the Lowlands? In especial, if I landed meantime in England, to raise that kingdom also?"

  Andrew drew a deep breath. "With all respect, sir - and to my lord of Argyll - I much doubt it. The Highlands and Lowlands seldom see eye to eye. And my lord is very much of the Highlands - at least in most Lowlanders' eyes. And even in the Highlands there are . . . clan animosities! Since you ask me, my lord Duke, I must answer in truth that such proclamation by the Earl of Argyll would be unlikely to serve your cause."

  There was a murmur, fairly consistently hostile, from the company. Argyll looked outraged.

  Monmouth did not, however. "Are you against any such proclamation, Mr. Fletcher? Or only if made by my lord of Argyll? Or other from the North?"

  Again Andrew hesitated. "It is difficult to say, sir. You are but little known in Scotland. You have a Scottish name and wife and title. But . . ." He could hardly say that he left his Scottish wife, the Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, whilst he lived elsewhere with the Countess of Wentworth.

  "Does His Highness's royal de
scent and ancient Stewart blood mean nothing to Scotchmen?" Grey demanded, frowning. "Or Lowland Scotchmen!"

  "Indeed it does. But then, the Duke's royal uncle is equally . . . blest!"

  "But he is a Catholic, man!"

  "I have not forgotten, my lord. But this of a proclamation could work both ways. Parliament - the Scots Estates - might well prefer to make anything such, themselves. In more constitutional fashion. If at all."

  "So you are against it, Mr. Fletcher?" the Duke put to him, flatly.

  "As a means of aiding an invasion and rising, I think that I am, sir. Unless you were present in person."

  "That I fear would not be possible. In Scotland. I shall be sufficiently occupied in England! It is not my endeavour, Mr. Fletcher, to separate my father's crowns. I hold the United Kingdom indivisible. It was only that if, by having me proclaimed King in Scotland first, it might aid in my English campaign, that I might contemplate it. Clearly you consider it inadvisable. Do you agree with him, Sir Patrick?"

  "In this of a proclamation, yes, my lord Duke, I do. In the matter of Highland and Lowland differences and lack of cooperation, I am less sure."

  "Ah. One other matter, then, gentlemen - and it arises from your last point, sir. How much Lowland armed support is likely? When my lord of Argyll lands and raises my standard? Sir John Cochrane, here, fears no great deal. But my lord of Loudoun is more hopeful."

  "I also am hopeful," Home declared. "I believe that Scotland is just waiting and longing to throw off its shackles!"

  "Excellent! And you, Mr. Fletcher?"

  "I have no wish to disappoint, my lords - but I am less sanguine. Remember that the nation is in some degree cowed. The military are in complete control. There has been twenty years of repression and persecution. It may have bred a spirit of rebellion and resentment - but that may not work wholly in favour of the royal house!" That was as gently as he could put it. "Again, the people's natural leaders have been driven out, imprisoned or executed, as a matter of policy - so that those on whom effective rising would depend, in the first place, are not there. The Kirk, the Church, would be strong for a Protestant revolt — but the Kirk has been stamped upon and decimated deliberately, by order from London, throughout all King Charles's reign! I say that . . ." Belatedly he recognised that he had probably said enough, by the expressions of his hearers.

  "Thank you, Mr. Fletcher," Monmouth said stiffly - and then, surprisingly, was actually interrupted.

  "This young man speaks sense." It was the stocky, elderly man who had been arguing with Cochrane.

  "Indeed? You think, so, Colonel Rumbold?"

  Andrew was more surprised than ever. Rumbold was the name of the Rye House Plot ringleader, at whose establishment the alleged assassinations were to have taken place; and he had been one of Cromwell's Ironsides colonels. So this was presumably the same man escaped from the Tower - which was sufficiently significant. Although most of the others growled their offence, the Duke eyed the older man thoughtfully.

  "I had not thought that any Scot, any Protestant Scot, would so disapprove of what I seek to do!" Argyll declared. "To cry down our attempts."

  "My lord, I do not disapprove. Of all efforts to right Scotland's wrongs. My concern is that your attempts, and mine, should be successful. For a failed attempt would be worse than none. And we should not shut our eyes to facts. Your clan is one of the most powerful in the land - but one of the best-hated! Perhaps wrongly. But that is not the point. I say that any invasion and rising in Scotland should, in the first place, be led and headed up by other than Campbells. Let them join in, by all means - but not seek to take the lead."

  "But nobody else is doing so, man!"

  "Are the Scots so altogether wretched? Cowed, you said, I think, that they will not rise?" Alderman Dare grated. "So broken a nation?"

  In answer, Andrew did not trust himself to look at the man. Instead, he spoke as to Colonel Rumbold. "Scotland groans under the most harsh and rigorous military occupation, with men, women even children hanged, shot, drowned, tortured. For as little as having even a kinsman attend a coventicle, a religious service. My lord of Argyll himself was condemned to death for refusing the Test. You, sir, are a soldier, I understand. You know, if any does, what the military, in total command, can do to a people. Your Oliver Cromwell held down all England so for sixteen years, did he not? How many successful risings did the English make, against you?"

  There was silence.

  It was Monmouth who spoke, then. "So, Mr. Fletcher, you advise against all military ventures?"

  "No, my lord Duke, I do not. Such invasion and rising, aimed at England firstly, might be successful. For there the military are not all-powerful. But you have made it that way - or your father did - in Scotland. A successful landing in England might well spark one off in Scotland. But not the other way."

  "I see. Then, sir, I thank you for your counsel - however unpalatable! We shall consider well what you have said. I bid you a good night. Sir Patrick - perhaps you will stay with us a little longer?"

  Bowing, Andrew took his leave. He certainly had had enough for one night, as evidently had the others.

  Later, thinking it over, Andrew came to the conclusion that he had had enough for considerably more than one night. He was filling in his time in exile by writing a book, a sort of discourse on the affairs of Scotland incorporating his views on government. He had reached a stage where he wished to use the hopeless misgovernment of Spain under an imbecile king, as an example, and recognised that a sojourn in Brussels, the capital of the Spanish Netherlands, would greatly assist his knowledge. So to Brussels he decided to repair forthwith - before any more unpleasantness developed, any more requests for money or involvement in plots and schemes, of which, to say the least, he was in no wholehearted support. Two days later, then, he was on his way to Brabant, Brussels, lying some eighty miles south of Rotterdam. Patrick Home at least was sorry to see him go - as was Alida van Heel.

  It was three weeks later, in his temporary lodgings near the Cathedral of St. Gudule, that he was surprised to be visited by a messenger with a letter from the Duke of Monmouth, no less, urging him in most pressing terms to call upon him at the Hague palace at his earliest convenience. It was a friendly letter, modestly worded, with neither flourish nor command about it, and was signed, not Monmouth, nor yet James Scott nor even Crofts, but James Stewart. And as a postscript was a note to add that a particular friend of his had arrived at The Hague.

  Andrew was in a quandary, of course. He did not want to get further involved; but nor did he wish to seem discourteous. And, to be sure, the writer might well become his liege lord before too long. But it was, of course, the reference to a friend's arrival that intrigued him. When, questioning the messenger, he elicited the fact that it was Dr. Gilbert Burnet, he hesitated no longer. He would leave for the Hague in a day or two; he had all but finished all he could do in Brussels anyway.

  He had not visited the Dutch capital since his youthful tour, and even then had not aspired so high as the Stadtholder's palace of the Bosch. Here he found Monmouth to be occupying a rear wing of the great establishment, with quite a little court of his own - at which he was less than pleased to see the man Dare, the Plotter Robert Ferguson, as well as Colonel Rumbold, Grey and others. Although he asked for Gilbert Burnet, none appeared to know of him, so presumably he was not staying at the palace.

  However, when after some delay, the Duke received him privately in a gilded saloon large enough to house ten score, Burnet was therein, the only other occupant.

  Monmouth was thoughtful in allowing Andrew to greet his old tutor, with some emotion, whilst he himself strolled over to gaze out of a window. It seemed that London had become quite too hot, under James the Second and Seventh, to hold such as Burnet, and he had betaken himself first to Paris then to Italy, and now here he was at the personal invitation of the Prince of Orange himself.

  "It was good of you to come, Mr. Fletcher," the Duke said, presently. "Sir Patrick Ho
me informed me that you were in Brussels. I hope that this has not too greatly inconvenienced you?"

  "I was practically finished at Brussels, my lord Duke."

  "Let us dispense with lordings and highnesses since we three are alone, my friends. I asked you to come, because I seek your advice. Again. And at Dr. Burnet's urging. He believes that you will give me good counsel, personal, close counsel. Each time that we have met I have conceived that you are not only an honest man but shrewd and well-informed - if outspoken! And such are, I fear, distinctly rare. A man in my situation is surrounded by men with . . . shall we say, other qualities! Schemers, self-seekers, trimmers and fanatics, not to say toadies. Not all, of course. But too many. So much of the counsel given me is what these wish me to hear, or what they believe I myself would wish to hear. Not what I require to hear. You, I think, will be otherwise - as Dr. Burnet assures me. He has a high regard for your abilities. Will you so help me, Mr. Fletcher?"

  "Why, sir, to be sure. I much appreciate your trust. Whether my poor advice will be of any service is another matter. I fear that Dr. Burnet's esteem may not be altogether warranted! Our friendship cozening him! In what way can I help you?"

  "It is in what my great-grandfather James called statecraft that I seek counsel. I am short on statesmen to advise me, I fear - however many politicians! From what I have heard, and what Dr. Burnet tells me, that is your great interest." He paused. "I want to know how best to reach the people. Not only the lords and gentry but the people. When I land on English soil again. What do I do? Apart from fight! Proclaim myself King - or not? At once? Issue an appeal to arms - or not? Wave the Protestant banner? Promise reforms of government, lower taxation, repeal of the harshest laws? Or is all this too lofty for the common folk? How say you?"

  "You are set on this invasion, then?"

  "Yes. Argyll sails in four days' time. I have promised to move within days thereafter. So that the Scots will hear of it and be heartened."