The Patriot (3 page)

Long they debated and assessed, considering any and all
means by which the odd extra vote might be gained. Belhaven had considerable influence at this Dunbar end of the county and amongst the parish ministers who, by and large, were Covenant-minded and anti-prelacy, which would lead them to vote against the government; on the other hand, Dunbar and district had suffered so much under Cromwell, after his winning the battle there twenty-eight years earlier, that they were pretty staunchly monarchial now and might well choose to support the King's representative's nominee. Not that Fletcher and the Hamiltons were
against
King Charles -only against the policies of his London government, of imposing prelacy and its desire for an incorporating union of the two kingdoms. It was all complicated and difficult.

Andrew took his leave, with a programme of visits and interviews arranged for the period before the election, for the Hamiltons and himself, to s
eek to persuade and cajole. Bel
haven himself would make shift to go and see the Earl of Haddington, across the Tyne estuary at Tyninghame. His support could be crucial. He was a Hamilton too - but was married to the heiress of the Earl of Rothes, the Lord Chancellor, Lauderdale's colleague and crony. With him it would be a near thing.

Riding home the fourteen miles south-westwards through the lovely East Lothian countryside, it did occur to Andrew Fletcher to ask himself why he was doing this, putting himself and his future in grave jeopardy, challenging the powers that had broken finer and wiser and more influential men than himself? Although a good Presbyterian, he was no bigoted Covenantor. He rather admired Charles the Second - even whilst judging him to be sorely lacking in his understanding of the Scottish situation and temper, misguided by those around him. He was instinctively against Charles's brother, the Duke of York, converted to the Romish Church and fanatical about it; but so far these Popish pretensions posed no real threat to Scotland. Misgovernment and tyranny there was - but why did
he
feel compelled to oppose it with all his strength and fortune? His father, Sir Robert, had died young, leaving him laird, in his early teens, of a large and rich estate, an old castle and a tradition of sober well-doing. Neither father nor grandfather, Lord Innerpeffer, would have done what he was doing now, he very well knew; careful, steady men - at least in their public life - disinclined for adventures and dramatics. Not like the Hamiltons, or the Maitlands, for that matter. Yet here he was, seeking to set out on what was little less than a crusade, with the enemy all-powerful. Why? His Highland blood coming out perhaps, vehement, turbulent - like that of his far-distant kinsman, Rob Roy MacGregor? Or his mother's Bruce blood - although the Clackmannan Bruces had been a comparatively tame lot for generations. Bruce? He did not presume to speak of himself, even secretly, in the same breath as the hero-king of three centuries before. Besides, it was Wallace, not Bruce, whom he might wish to emulate — if he dared to let his mind stray that far. Bruce had fought for a throne, power, a dynasty; Wallace only for an idea, love of country, simple patriotism, with nothing to gain personally and everything to lose - as he did. Wallace, indeed yes - and God forgive him for daring to link
his
situation with that of the Patriot.

When he came, with the sunset, to his house, the Abernethy castle extended with its fine 17th-century additions, set between his two villages of East and West Saltoun, such thoughts did not survive the first sight of the place in its secluded foothill valley of the Birns Water. For the wide forecourt area was full of men and horses, reminiscent of the Sidegate of Haddington. But these were uniformed men and their mounts cavalry-horses. Dragoons - and making entirely free with his premises.

Hot temper rising, Andrew spurred in amongst them, demanding what this meant, what they wanted, how dared they off-saddle in front of his house, where was their officer?

A youthful cornet was brought out from the house itself, to announce that his name was Dalrymple, cutting short Andrew's indignant representations with a military gesture, to declare that he and his troop were billeted on Mr. Fletcher of Saltoun until further notice, in the interests of national security. He drew a document from his open tunic to prove it. Although he did not actually read it, Andrew saw that it bore Lauderdale's peculiarly neat signature at the foot.

John Maitland moved fast, it appeared.

Fletcher went in search of his brother Henry.

Andrew Fletcher gazed around the crowded Parliament Hall of Edinburgh, at something of a loss. There appeared to be no one to tell new members, or commissioners as they were called, where to go or what to do. The place seethed with people and the noise was deafening. There must be many hundreds thronging the long, narrow hall under the open-beamed roof so lofty. They could not all be commissioners. Supposedly there could only be two hundred and ninety of these -although the numbers varied from parliament to parliament owing to the different proportions of lords temporal and spiritual available. The Scots Parliament, unlike the English, sat together in one chamber, lords, commissioners of the shires and burgh representatives, the Three Estates.

Andrew perceived, then, that quite a number of those present were dressed scarcely in a style to be expected of the occasion; indeed some seemed actually to be selling pamphlets, even snuff and tobacco. He could have brought his brother Henry, after all.

He saw old Lord Belhaven seated alone in stalls near the right-front of the hall, and went to sit beside him.

"I am glad that you were able to make the journey, my lord," he said. "I hope that it has not wearied you overmuch?"

"I took it gently, lad - in two stages. Spent the night at Seton with Lord Winton. I would not have missed this parliament-it will be my last. At the next, Johnnie wi
ll sit here, in my place. But - I
wanted to see you started on your road, Andrew. Your first, my last."

Fletcher had won the Haddingtonshire seat by forty-seven votes to thirty-six, to the great excitement of the county and beyond.

"It need not be so, my lord. You could have many more years yet. When do proceedings commence? The opening was called for noon - now long past."

"We cannot start until the Lord High Commissioner chooses, lad. It is his prerogative - and Lauderdale likes to show who is in command! Although I have known him to start early - and then none could enter because His Grace was seated! But usually he keeps us waiting - and today he will be in particularly ill mood. For which
you
may have some responsibility! Ah - here is Hamilton."

A dark handsome man of middle years, fashionably dressed in London style, came stalking up, waving a scented handkerchief before his prominent nose - admittedly the crowded hall in the summer heat smelled strongly. Men in his path tended to bow as he passed and were loftily ignored; even Belhaven rose shakily to his feet as the newcomer reached him, for this was the head of that great house which cut so wide a swathe in Scotland; although it was odd that Belhaven, himself directly descended from the first Lord Hamilton, should so pay his respects to a man who was in fact no Hamilton at all but a Douglas. William Douglas, Earl of Selkirk, had married Anne, Duchess of Hamilton in her own right, daughter of the second Duke, and had been created Duke of Hamilton for life. Such as he was, he represented the focus of opposition to Lauderdale, whom he hated, the only other duke in Scotland.

"Ha, Belhaven - you are here," Hamilton said. "As well. I shall need every vote this day, I vow!"

"Yes, my lord Duke. The word is that the elections have been managed, pauchled. More than usual. I fear the worst. You are well. After your long journey?" All Edinburgh rang with the story that Duke Hamilton had arrived from London only the day before, after a rushed journey, with twelve coaches and two hundred and fifty men as bodyguard.

"It was devilish hot and tiresome." The Duke's haughty glance, ignoring Andrew Fletcher, was sweeping the crowded hall. "I see damned few friends and over-many unfriends!" he commented grimly. "Maitland is up to no good. He never is -but today he is oily. Ever a bad sign. He tried to oil
me!
"

"You have seen him, then?"

"Aye. I spent the night at Holyroodhouse - of which I am Keeper, you'll mind. He is in residence. So I made my keepership suitably evident to him. Yet he sought to have me
come here in his own coach, damn him! Oily, as I say. I told him I preferred my own. But
...
he cooks something. I ken the smell of him."

"He is here, then? But keeps all waiting."

"He is ben there, drinking with Rothes - who is drunk as an owl. Argyll too. A bonny trio!" The Duke turned. "You, young man - what do you stare at? Who are you?"

"This is my young friend, Andrew Fletcher, my lord Duke. Of Saltoun. You will mind his father, Sir Robert? Newly elected for Haddingtonshire. On my recommendation."

"Then I trust that he will vote aright! Nevertheless his place is. . .elsewhere!" And he jerked his head for Andrew to be off.

His quick frown very evident, that young man bowed stiffly, to withdraw, when Belhaven moved round to take his arm.

"Heed it not, lad," he murmured. "It is but his way. Go over yonder." He pointed. "These are the lords' seats."

Pushing his way through the throng to the other side of the hall, Andrew hotly told himself that if this was the man Scotland had to look to for leadership against Lauderdale, then God help Scotland!

Most of the commissioners had not yet taken their seats, but amongst those who had he saw his uncle, his mother's younger brother, Sir Alexander Bruce of Broomhall, commissioner for Sanquhar and a privy councillor.

"May I sit
here,
sir?" he asked, it is to be feared less than cordially. "There appears to be little direction in this place."

"To be sure, lad. Sit by me. Good to see you. My congratulations on winning your East Lothian seat - although I do not know if you have been wise!" Bruce was a large, amiable man, of almost cherubic countenance.

"I am beginning to wonder whether it is a cause for congratulation, sir," his nephew said. "To be elected to . . . this!"

"With our King in London, boy, it is all we have left of government. We must needs make the best of it."

"And make the best of Duke Hamilton too, I take it?" That was tart.

The older man looked at him curiously. "Why, yes. He is none so bad, is Duke William. He has Douglas manners
–
but
what can you expect? He is not afraid to stand up to Lauderdale, as are most. And he has King Charles's left ear, even if Lauderdale had his right! And they do say that the King's right ear is becoming just a little deaf!"

"Indeed? Hamilton scarce chooses the best way to recruit members to his party . . . !"

"Party, Andrew? Hamilton has no party. Hamilton is . . . Hamilton! You will learn. The sorrow that there
is
no party to oppose — only hatred."

He got no further. Two drummer-boys came into the hall beating a continuous rataplan on their side-drums, the signal for members to take their seats and for the unauthorised to leave. Even when these were gone the place was crowded, with no seats for all. Bruce explained that, with all the manipulation behind this election, there was a much greater attendance than usual. Lauderdale had seen that the maximum two hundred and ninety made it - one hundred and forty six lords, fourteen bishops, sixty-five shire commissioners and sixty-five burgh representatives. Most parliaments were fortunate to have half that.

A procession filed in from the left, but only a few inexperienced newcomers rose to their feet, for it could be seen, by the gorgeous robes and copes, that these were only the new Lords Spiritual, at present the most loathed men in the kingdom, the fourteen bishops, and almost all turncoats, led by James Sharpe, Archbishop of St. Andrews and Alexander Burnet, Archbishop of Glasgow, both former Presbyterian parish-ministers. They had been given seats in parliament, by royal decree, only since 1655, after clerical seats had been banned at the Reformation. These went to their places at the end of the lords' stalls, in a heavy silence.

The silence did not last long for, as though to emphasise where the real importance lay, there was still a considerable wait, and chatter was resumed. Then, at last, a full hour late, the drumming resumed and the door at the head of the hall was thrown open to admit, first a file of the royal guard, very fine, who took up positions flanking the throne; then the Lord Lyon King of Arms leading his heralds; then the great officers of state, with the Honours of Scotland, the Earl of Erroll, High
Constable, bearing the Sword, the Earl of Crawford bearing the Sceptre and the Earl of Argyll bearing the Crown - odd, when his father had been executed for highest treason. Finally, after a calculated pause, appeared the Chancellor of the Realm, John Leslie, Earl of Rothes, great wig askew and somewhat unsteady on his feet, followed by Lauderdale, the Lord High Commissioner, red of face, rocking of gait, hat crushed firmly down over wig as, deputising for the monarch, he alone could remain covered in that company.