The Patriot

by Nigel Tranter

  "There is nothing that you could say to me that I would not wish my brother and my good-sister to hear."

  "Very well. Perhaps, indeed, they will be a good influence! Help me to instil some sense and judgment into that stiff-necked, unyielding head of yours! May I sit, Cousin . . . ?"

  Wine set before them, Graham returned to his theme, addressing Margaret this time. "I have come here, at some inconvenience and risk to my name and repute, to try to help this stubborn good-brother of yours, Meg. God knows why - save that I have always had some sort of liking for him, a recognition that, whatever else he is, he is honest! And able, of course - if he would but employ his wits in the right directions! One of the most able men in Scotland - or could be . . ."

  "The point of this homily, my lord?" Andrew interrupted. "Oh, do not be so confoundedly awkward, man! You have been proved wrong and have been let down. I come to offer you a way out, a saving of your position. I can save you - and only I can, I think."

  "I was not aware that I required the saving. At least, not at your hands."

  "Oh, hear him at least, Andrew!" Margaret exclaimed.

  'You require saving, yes," the other nodded grimly. "You have fallen between two horses. Both are liable to kick you! I can lift you into the saddle again."

  "Stop talking in riddles, of a mercy! You say that I am let down and betrayed. By whom?"

  "Lord save us - do you really not know? By William, of course. William has cast you off. Why, I do not know - save that you no doubt have been as awkward and difficult with him as with everyone else!"

  "In what way has William cast me off? It is the first I have heard of it."

  "He is displeased with you. He is well-served with spies - as, it happens, so am I! You seem to have offended. No doubt in seeking to limit his powers as monarch. So - you are to suffer for it. He will not lift the forfeiture on this Saltoun estate. He has declared it. Mind, he has no right to do so, anyway, since he is not King here. But that is scarce the point."

  "What! Not . . . not . . .?"

  "No. Not. William has said so. He is not King of Scots but assumes that he is. And he has lifted the forfeiture of the others who have supported him - Polwarth, Jerviswood, Ochiltree, Melville, all young Argyll's lands. But not Saltoun. Only Saltoun is excepted. You are still outlaw, Andrew - forfeited by both James and William! The price of speaking your too honest mind to princes!"

  Affronted the other three eyed each other.

  "Andrew! After all that you have done for him, for William!" Henry cried. "I cannot believe this . . ."

  "It is true," Graham assured. "Have you not seen Home? He is back at Polwarth. And Cochrane, my odd good-brother, back at Ochiltree. In possession again - or thinking that they are. We shall see about that! But not you, my friend - not you!"

  "How do you know this?"

  "I make a point of having my informants, close to William. Recollect, I once saved his life!"

  "Gilbert Burnet would have sent me word."

  "Burnet is no longer in William's close company. There has been disagreement there also. Burnet has left Whitehall to become Bishop of Salisbury. That beauty, the cardinal, the Reverend Carstairs, is now William's closest adviser on Scottish affairs. He does not love you, I think?"

  There was silence for a little as his hearers digested all that.

  "So we come to my offer," Graham resumed. "James is still King of Scots, whatever the situation in England. You, Andrew, in the past have advocated that the kingdoms might be separated again. Now it seems they will become so. I am James's representative here meantime. Some time ago he issued an Edict of Indulgence towards Scotland. Admittedly it was intended to permit Roman Catholics to be freed from all restraints and forfeitures and to hold office again in the realm. But it nowhere states only Catholics. Indeed even some of those damnable Covenanters have made use of this Indulgence to have their penalties lifted, on promise of better behaviour. In the King's name, my friend, I can extend the Indulgence edict to yourself, lift the forfeiture and make you Lord of Saltoun again!"

  As the others drew quick breaths, Andrew spoke levelly. "At a price?"

  "No costly price. Indeed no more than your simple duty. Be a loyal subject of your undoubted liege-lord the King of Scots, and no longer a thorn in James's flesh. That is all."

  "All! You ask me to forswear my dearest principles, all that I have stood for - and call it no costly price? James Stewart is a tyrant, a fanatic Papist and unfit to rule this kingdom, his hands stained with blood - much of which you have shed for him! Not for a score of Saltouns would I give him my support."

  The other controlled himself only by an obvious effort. "Watch your fool tongue, Fletcher!" he grated. "It could lose you your head! Do not presume on my patience and good will."

  "It was neither patience nor goodwill which brought you here tonight, I think, my lord. But need. Political need. You find few Scots - Lowland Scots, at least - prepared to support Catholic James against Protestant William. So you turn to such as myself, whom you think to buy! Had you found Edinburgh in Jacobite mood, I swear that you would not be here now. And I might well be in the cells of Edinburgh Castle! No -I am not for sale, for my own estate or other."

  They stared at each other, two determined men fated to opposition.

  "Think well," the elder said, slowly. "This could be your last chance. You have not William behind you now. Your are alone, man - with many enemies. And I am not seeking to buy you. This Indulgence could apply to you lawfully."

  "Not in my eyes. It was an arbitrary edict of King James. Issued for his own purposes, without the consent or even knowledge of parliament. Only parliament can lawfully change the law. I could not take advantage of such edict."

  "What if William had remitted your forfeiture, then? As he has done these others?"

  "It would still not have been lawful until it was confirmed by the Scots Estates of Parliament."

  "Damnation, man - is there no reasoning with you! No reaching the wits you have buried inside that obdurate head of yours?"

  "A while ago you told Margaret that I was honest. I fear that you will just have to accept the fact - even if you esteem it stupidity!"

  The Viscount of Dundee pushed back his chair. "Then I have wasted my time, coming here. And I meant well by you, Andrew Fletcher . . ."

  14

  The very next day, judging that the sooner he was away from Saltoun the better, in the circumstances, Andrew rode southwards through the Lammermuir Hills and into the Merse, to Polwarth-on-the-Green, to consult with Sir Patrick Home. At Redbraes Castle there, the Home seat, he found not only his friend back in residence but the son and heir of another former friend, George Baillie of Jerviswood who, whilst all were exiles in Holland, had married Grizel Home - the same who had brought her father sustenance by night to the underground crypt below Polwarth Kirk, six years ago.

  Patrick Home confirmed much that John Graham had said -although his interpretations and reactions tended to be different. He was much troubled that Andrew had been singled out so notably for William's disfavour, and had assumed that he must most grievously have offended. The victim's assertions that he had only emphasised to the Prince the traditional limitations of Scottish kingship and the need for co-operation with parliament and people, set Home's head ashaking. Apparently William had become increasingly touchy on this subject of limitations of power, since the Bill of Rights had been forced on him by the English parliamentarians as price of his accession to that throne. Indeed this was the reason for Gilbert Burnet's fall from favour also, in that he had argued for the Claim of Rights and assured William that conquest, however successful, was no substitute for parliamentary authority in either kingdom. So now he was removed from Court to Salisbury, as Bishop thereof. William, in the end, had had to agree to the English Bill of Rights, if with ill grace, his Queen most strongly against it. So it was probable that he was determined that the same sort of trouble should not develop in Scotland, and looked upon Andrew as a likely lea
der in such demands. The delaying of remission of forfeiture was no doubt just some sort of warning in the matter, a hint not to muddy the water.

  Andrew felt that it was something heavy-handed for a hint-the more so when, a little later, Home asked him if he had received his letter regarding the forthcoming Convention. On enquiry what this might be, the younger man was informed that, in response to the party which had gone down to offer William the Scots crown, the new English monarch had desired to call a Scots Parliament to ratify the proposal. It was pointed out, however, that only the appointed King of Scots could call an actual Parliament; and since William was not that until the said Parliament itself confirmed the matter, the only procedure available was for him to call something less, namely a Convention of the Estates, which would then officially make the offer. To this, perforce, William had had to agree. But since he was in a hurry, and said that he could by no means spare the time to call the usual elections, which required forty days' notice, he had sent- out a circular letter to all former members of the Estates, lords, bishops, commissioners of the shires and burgh representatives, summoning them to a Convention in Edinburgh at the end of the month. He, Home, had had his letter for ten days. As, he knew, had Cockburn of Ormiston.

  "Damnation - no letter has come for me! To Saltoun," Andrew exclaimed. "Can it be . . . could he be so devilish mean as to do this? To debar me from taking, or at least standing for, my seat? Surely not?"

  The other looked unhappy. "I suppose ... if you are still forfeited, a condemned man, then, then you are still outlaw, in name. And so, and so ineligible to sit in Convention or Parliament."

  "Lord God!" Andrew swore, hotly. "Preserve us from princes! This is beyond all!"

  "Perhaps the letter has gone amissing? The courier could not find you ..'.?"

  "He would come to Saltoun, would he not? No, the only one who has come to Saltoun is Claverhouse. He did not speak of this Convention."

  "Perhaps he did not know."

  "He is well-informed, that one. He would know. He assured me that William had cast me off, and tried to win me over to James. He believes that James's cause, in Scotland, is by no means lost."

  "Does he know that there is an English and Dutch army marching north to ensure that it is lost?"

  "There is? He said nothing of that. Yet - surely it is something that he would know, if it is true?"

  "It is true enough. George Baillie passed them on his way home. Under General Hugh Mackay of Scourie. You remember him, in Holland?"

  "Yes - a stern, grey man. Is he a good enough general to fight Graham who, whatever else, is a notable soldier?"

  "That I do not know. But the word from Edinburgh is that Graham's troops - I suppose that we must call him Dundee now? - that his army is deserting fast. They are largely Hielantmen, apart from his dragoons, and have been away from their homes for too long. They marched south in October. Now, idle in Edinburgh and cursed by the townsfolk, they are heading back for their glens by the hundred. James, you see -and therefore Dundee - has no money to pay them now . . ."

  "I see. So - Graham is less strongly-placed that he would have had me to think. Which makes his coming to Saltoun yesterday the more interesting! When is this Convention to be?"

  "The letter said at the earliest possible. By the end of the month. But that is scarcely practicable. Duke Hamilton is coming up to preside over it. He cannot be High Commissioner, since such can be appointed only by the King of Scots. He may be in Scotland now - I do not know. But William wants no time wasted, so it could be any time now. I am ready to go at a day's notice."

  "Aye - then it is time that I returned to Edinburgh, I think. Even if I am not to be a commissioner for Haddingtonshire, there may be something that I can do . . ."

  So Andrew rode north again next day, by the coast-road this time, by Dunbar, to Beil. There Johnnie Belhaven confirmed most of what Home had. said, and could add more. His chief, the Duke of Hamilton, had arrived in Edinburgh and had summoned the chief Williamite supporters to meet him there the very next day, himself included, at Holyroodhouse, to plan their strategy for the Convention, and to fix a date. That affair was going to be a trial of strength indeed, for James - or at least Dundee, who was acting in his name - had also called for a Convention and would no doubt seek to dominate and constrain it in James's favour. The tale was that he had first intended it to be a full Parliament - since James could lawfully still call one - but had decided against this in case the decisions went against him, and so could claim that they did not carry all weight and authority. No doubt, if he found matters going his way, or James's, he would have the final sessions declared a Parliament indeed.

  Johnnie was highly indignant to hear that Andrew had been excepted from the lifting of forfeitures and so would be ineligible for calling as a commissioner. He declared that it made him doubtful as to whether William was worth supporting - save in that he could not be so bad as James. He confirmed that he had his own circular letter, from William, to attend, as a Lord of Parliament; and that Cockburn of Ormiston had been summoned as a shire commissioner. So Andrew's exclusion was the more painfully deliberate.

  At least Johnnie had a suggestion to make. Andrew should accompany him to Edinburgh next day. He could ride in the guise of a servant, if need be. And he would insinuate him into Hamilton's meeting at Holyroodhouse, where they would see what could be done.

  Andrew was somewhat doubtful as to this last, for his very brief relationship with the Duke of Hamilton all those years ago had hardly been of the happiest. But they would see . . .

  * *

  It seemed strange, after all his furtive lurking and hiding, to be entering the royal palace of Edinburgh openly, even though Andrew did so as groom and bodyguard to the Lord Belhaven and Stenton. After Johnnie dismounted at the impressive front entrance, Andrew led the horses round to the stableyard-court at the back, to enter the august premises by a rear door, where he discarded his steel-bonnet, heavy sword and liveried cloak and, respectably-dressed beneath, went through to join his friend in the Duke's quarters. Even so there were a lot of suspicious glances cast, both at front and rear, and not confined to Andrew Fletcher. For, at this juncture, Holyroodhouse was also the residence of the Lord Viscount Dundee, the King of Scots' representative, who was occupying the royal apartments, with his lieutenants and staff; and all visitors had had, as it were, to run the gauntlet of inspection by Graham's officers before gaining access - indeed they had had to ride through the rump of the army encamped in the park around. The Duke of Hamilton was Hereditary Keeper of the palace and so had his private wing of the great rambling establishment as his Edinburgh town-house; and Graham could scarcely keep him out, since Hamilton had never actually come to blows with James, and his high rank had always ensured him some sort of links with the royal Court at London. And he was, after all, almost a member of the royal family, the Hamiltons having intermarried with the Stewarts on more than one occasion.

  Andrew had realised that his arrival at the Duke's meeting might not altogether please that haughty individual; but he was unprepared for the stir created by his appearance amongst the company at large. To only one or two of those present had he revealed his return to Scotland hitherto, secretly; some others undoubtedly would know of it. But to most there - and some thirty men were in the handsome panelled chamber - his entry came as a major surprise. The majority knew him, to be sure, many in a friendly enough way, others less so; but all, certainly, had heard of him. The fact was, of course, that he did not realise just how celebrated a figure he had become since he left his native land, his adventures, exploits, troubles and links with both Monmouth and William of Orange, all apt for note, discussion and undoubted exaggeration. That he was a condemned murderer and renowned slayer of Turks, allegedly, may have contributed to the interest. There was, accordingly, a nudging and exclamation. Then a loud and authoritative throat-clearing from the fireside vicinity produced an anticipatory hush.

  "Belhaven, is that yourself?" Hamilton ca
lled, without any noticeable warmth. "And in unlooked-for company, I see!"

  "Yes, my lord Duke - and most valuable company!" Johnnie gave back, boldly. "I consider myself highly privileged to be able to bring Mr. Fletcher here. To our much advantage, I am sure." He stumbled a little over that assertion, well rehearsed as it had been.

  Andrew bowed, briefly, but said nothing.

  Hamilton frowned and tapped a toe on the carpet, seemingly undecided as to what line to take — which was unusual in that man, at least in public. He appeared to have aged considerably since Andrew had last seen him, now in his fifty-fifth year, grown thick, florid and heavy-jowled; but his former assumption of superiority gave no impression of having faded. All awaited his reaction.

  "Mr. Fletcher hazards himself in coming here," he said, at length. "No doubt he has his reasons for so doing? Likewise yourself, my lord!" Having delivered himself of this suspended judgment, the Duke turned to resume his converse with those standing near.

  If this scarcely amounted to the warmest of welcomes, at least it was not total rejection and dismissal. Even so, Andrew's temper boiled up; but Johnnie's grip on his friend's arm was firm, almost urgent. Whether this would have been sufficient to overcome the latter's conviction that he would be infinitely better elsewhere is doubtful; but reinforcement was at hand. A handsomely saturnine-featured individual from the hearthside group came forward, hand outstretched.

  "Ha - Saltoun! How very good to see you again!" he said smoothly. It was Sir James Dalrymple of Stair, Lord President of the Court of Session, chief justiciar of Scotland, now in his seventieth year, although he by no means looked it.

  If this development caused surprise, it was not least in Andrew himself. In the first place he had not expected to see Dalrymple in this company. That wily lawyer had played an equivocal part indeed on the political scene. He had been strongly anti-Covenanter and pro-Charles, a trusted colleague of Lauderdale's. Then he had astonished all by his famous volte-face against James Stewart, at the 1681 Parliament, when he upset the government's plans by his trick of getting the Test Act as good as nullified by having incorporated in its wording the wrong Confession of Faith. This had resulted in his having to leave the country for a while and his turning up at William's Court at The Hague - where Andrew had last seen him. But since then he had returned to Scotland, and evidently James's favour, for he was received back into government, first as Lord Advocate and then promoted to Lord President. Now here he was at this gathering of William's supporters, and making himself conspicuous by being first to greet the outlaw whom it was surely the chief law-lord's duty to have apprehended and executed for treason. Moreover, he had called Andrew Saltoun, the lairdly title which was, of course, forfeited with the estate