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  Pandemonium reigned in Scotland's Parliament Hall.

  That evening Andrew and Henry Fletcher made their way down Edinburgh's crowded High Street, from their lodgings in the Lawnmarket, past the High Kirk of St. Giles - now being called a cathedral and seat of a bishop - and the Parliament House behind, as far as the Canongate, to the town-house of the Earl of Southesk. The city was packed, of course, and the streets athrong with folk, especially all the hangers-on of the lords and lairds, a noisy, quarrelsome, drunken element.

  Henry was a little uncomfortable. He was a sensitive young man, very good-looking in an almost girlish way, two years younger than his brother and very different from him in almost every way. They were very good friends, however, with Andrew distinctly protective; they had been twelve and ten respectively when their father had died. Although Henry had not been invited to Southesk's house, his brother would not hear of him being left alone for the evening in their lodging. It was Sir David Carnegie of Pitarrow, Southesk's brother, who

  had come up to Andrew as he was leaving the Parliament Hall, and suggested that he might care to dine with them that evening, mentioning that Belhaven would be there. The Carnegies were reputedly an open-handed lot - and presumably anti-Lauderdale.

  At the tall tenement within Little's Close, off the Canongate, they were welcomed casually but uncritically, with no one seeming to realise that there was an uninvited guest amongst the many already present. Henry relaxed.

  Belhaven, after congratulating Andrew on his intervention earlier, introduced them to Lord Southesk, a big, genial man, son of a difficult father, and brother of the equally difficult wife of the late and famous Marquis of Montrose. Nowadays the Carnegies found it an honour to have been connected with the Great Marquis; it was not always so.

  Southesk and his brother made much of Andrew, for whose courage and initiative of the afternoon they expressed admiration. But they warned him as to the consequences of Lauderdale's enmity - as indeed did all.

  When they sat down to dinner the brothers were placed in the care of a young woman, who sat between them - which pleased them both, for she was good-looking and friendly and they had had their eyes on her from the start as the only other person present approximately of their own age. She proved to be Margaret Carnegie, daughter of Sir David. They found her easy to get on with, suitably impressed with Andrew but careful to be equally attentive to Henry.

  As the meal progressed, his elders from farther up the table sought to bring Andrew more into their conversation. He was flattered, but in the circumstances would rather have talked to the young woman. They were, of course, concerned almost entirely with the political situation, and gloomily so. The general opinion was that Lauderdale would have everything his own way, as usual, and that there was little that anyone could do - not in Scotland, anyway. Only in London might the man's fall be encompassed.

  Although much the oldest there, Belhaven was the most optimistic. "I say that Maitland gives too many hostages to fortune. He makes mistakes, for he is not all clever. He has his stupidities and weaknesses. And that woman he has married could much endanger as well as enrich him. One day he will make a large mistake - which we may latch on to. How say you, Andrew?

  "He may well make the mistakes, my lord. But how do we latch on? From what I have seen today, we will not latch on to anything! We many of us may hate Lauderdale and all that he stands for. But that is all. We are not united, have no common policy. Each goes his own way. That will never bring Lauderdale down."

  "And you see a way, lad? To unite men who have nothing in common save hatred of the man?"

  "I say that we need a party. I am no lover of England and their parliament. But they can teach us something here. They have parties. Large groupings, who agree on a policy, or various policies. And vote with that party, even though not always agreeing with all the policies. So they wield power. We have only individuals - and wield none. Lauderdale and his cronies can pick us off one by one."

  Not a few of his seniors began to speak at once. As host, Southesk prevailed.

  "We have never gone in for parties, Mr. Fletcher. The Scots Estates are not like that, not made up so. We are free men all — save perhaps some of the burgesses, of whom I know little. We must remain our own men, not ruled by any party."

  "You are ruled by the Duke of Lauderdale, my lord! Is that to be preferred to making cause with others who think as you do? When nothing is more sure than that, if his London masters have their way, there will be no Scots Estates at all, only the English Parliament incorporating the Scots."

  There was silence at that, and Andrew himself felt a pang of apprehension over having spoken so to an earl, his host, old enough to be his father. But at his side, Margaret Carnegie nodded to him approvingly, murmuring 'Good! Good!' and he was encouraged. Interested also that this young woman should be concerned in such matters.

  Her father it was who spoke. "I fear that there is much in what Mr. Fletcher says. Especially this talk of a union, an incorporating union. It is said that the King is strongly for it. And his English advisers. Myself, I doubt whether Lauderdale would wish to go so far, since it would reduce his own power. But it is something that we will have to beware of, ever more keenly. Or England will have achieved by words what she has failed to achieve over six hundred years of warfare!"

  There were cries of 'Never! Never!' from around the table.

  Belhaven nodded agreement. "This is the greatest danger facing us - the loss of our birthright, freedom. Beside that, all else pales. The King, no doubt, sees it only as an administrative reform, to facilitate his rule from London. He no doubt means well. But his grandsire, King James, would never have countenanced it, for all his failings. It could be the end of Scotland as an independent nation."

  "It has not come to that, yet," Southesk said.

  "No. But this of the new standing army could facilitate it. Give added power to London - for nothing is more sure than that such army will be London-controlled. As well as draining Scotland of these vast moneys."

  "Could there be any truth in what Duke Hamilton suggested, my lord?" Andrew wondered. "That the raising of the troops might be only an excuse? That the money, or most of it, might really be only for a gift to the King - who is ever short, they say, with his extravagances?"

  "God knows, lad! It is certainly a strange and unheard of demand."

  "This Highland Host, as they call it, of Argyll's, in the West - it could all be part of a deep-laid ploy to foment trouble, which could be called rebellion, and so for requiring more soldiers, so providing excuse for the levying of the money. Especially if, as Duke Hamilton hinted, Lauderdale's repute with the King is sinking. Could there be truth in this also? My uncle, Sir Alexander Bruce, also said as much."

  "Hamilton is straight from London and the Court. He should know."

  "No doubt. But this is but speculation," Sir David Carnegie put in. "Interesting but not immediate. Our problem is tomorrow. How to prevent that supply being granted? This enormous sum. Lauderdale can win any vote in this convention, as he has scurvily contrived. How can we thwart him?"

  No one was in haste to answer that. Daring again, Andrew spoke up.

  "Delay," he suggested. "We cannot win a vote. But we might delay. Few are prepared to stand up to Lauderdale. But many must doubt and fear. Even amongst those whom he has bribed and bought. Such vast moneys must give all pause. So delay might be accepted. Propose commissioners to enquire. Into details. At least prevent a rushed vote. Two matters would allow reason for this. First the great rigging of the elections, making false all voting. A committee to enquire into this. Second, the amount of the moneys demanded. How such great sum was reached should be enquired into. Another committee of the convention. Delay, give time to rouse the land."

  "By God - that is a notion!" Scott of Harden, he who had suffered the £1,500 fine, exclaimed. "It might work."

  "At least it would give us something to fight for - not to be swept away on a snap vote," somebody e
lse said.

  There was general approval, and Andrew's credit rose further. It was' decided to recommend this procedure to the Duke of Hamilton next day. Even though there was no party, as such, the Duke was accepted as the obvious leader against Lauderdale, because of his rank and their mutual hatred.

  If young Andrew Fletcher had any tendency to swelled-headedness, it was sorely tested that night by the acclaim of his elders. But what went to his head more was the unaffected praise and favour of Margaret Carnegie, who made no bones about expressing her sympathies and encouragement. Indeed, as she said farewell to the brothers at the close-mouth later, she emphasised her concern.

  "Would it be possible, Mr. Fletcher, for me to attend at Parliament House tomorrow? To watch and listen? I have heard that it can be allowed. For friends of the commissioners. It would greatly please me."

  "I wanted to go, today," Henry said. "But Andrew feared that it would not be permitted."

  "They drum out all unauthorised folk before Lauderdale comes in," Andrew explained. "But today I saw visitors remaining, at the side of the hall. Two ladies whom I knew not. But I did recognise Willie Talmash, as they call him. And he is no commissioner." Lauderdale had married as his second wife the notorious Elizabeth, Countess of Dysart in her own right, an evil influence in two kingdoms. Her first husband had been an Englishman, Sir Lionel Tollemache, and this Willie was their son, Lauderdale's step-son. "If fifteen-year-old Willie can sit through the sessions, then you can, I say!"

  "Good! Then allow me to be your escort," Henry put in quickly.

  "Delighted, sir . . . !"

  Next noonday, consequently, Andrew was in no hurry to take his seat in the Parliament Hall, being more concerned with awaiting his brother and Margaret Carnegie at the outer entrance, behind St. Giles Kirk, and then conducting them to the place where the visitors had sat the day before. They were not long settled there, however, before one of the officers of the guard came up, and peremptorily ordered their departure.

  "On whose authority, sir?" Andrew demanded, flushing.

  "On His Grace's own," the other asserted.

  "Well, I'll be damned! This, this is insufferable! I am a commissioner. And these are my guests ..." A thought occurred to him. "How does the Duke of Lauderdale know that we are here?"

  "He has been informed. And it is not permitted for such as are not commissioners to remain in the hall during sessions."

  "But - William Tollemache, a mere boy, was here yesterday. Throughout. The Duke's step-son . . ."

  "I know nothing of that. I have my orders. These are to leave, sir."

  "No! If the Duke's step-son can remain, my brother and this lady can."

  "Please, Mr. Fletcher!" Margaret Carnegie had risen. "I will go. I certainly desire no trouble, embarrassment. Say no more. I will leave . . ."

  "No - do not, I beg of you. This is a disgrace! Not to be truckled to."

  "I cannot remain. You must see that. Not now." She turned to Henry. "Will you take me out, please. I am sorry, but I must leave."

  Henry nodded.

  "Then you come back, Henry," Andrew urged. "We cannot just give in to this. A matter of principle." "Very well ..."

  The High Commissioner again delayed his appearance well past noon, so there was time for Henry Fletcher to return and resume his seat, however uncomfortably.

  At length Lauderdale and Rothes came in, all upstanding. In the ceremonial of the bestowing of the Crown, Sceptre and Sword and the official seating, movement at the side of the hall caught Andrew's eye. Two officers were hustling Henry out, hands gripping his shoulders.

  Hot temper rising, Andrew had to restrain himself from hurrying to his brother's aid. He clenched his fists and waited.

  Lauderdale heavily announced that the session of the convention was resumed, after adjournment. But he warned sternly that he would adjourn again, if necessarily finally, should there be further improper and disloyal behaviour. To ensure such proper behaviour and to remind all present of their legal duty to the monarch, he had drawn up a short declaration, which all should sign, confirming their entire loyalty to the King's Grace. Lacking this, and hearing of some of the words spoken the previous day, His Majesty might well come to believe that Scotland was being led to rebellion. No doubt the Duke of Hamilton would be the first to sign.

  Clerks came down with copies of a paper for signature, as the company murmured. Andrew stood up.

  "Your Grace," he called loudly, "while this is done, I have protest to make on a matter of procedure. My brother has just been escorted from this hall by your officers. I am entitled to ask why."

  Rothes it was who answered. "The young man taken out had already been warned to leave. He returned. He is not, I understand, a commissioner or authorised officer. So has no right to be present. He will be lodged in the Tolbooth until this session is over. Lest he should again seek to make entry."

  "The Tolbooth. . .!" Andrew all but choked. "This . . . this is an outrage! He has committed no offence. I demand that he be released."

  "No, sir."

  Voice quivering, Andrew sought to control it. "Tell me, my lord - is it an offence for one who is not a commissioner to watch during a convention session?'-'

  "It is, yes."

  "Then, sir - order your officers to arrest that youth standing there!" Andrew's pointing finger jabbed towards where, at the side of the doorway by which the official party had entered, young William Tollemache stood watching the proceedings. "Confine him in the Tolbooth - beside my brother."

  The hall all but rocked with excitement. Even Rothes turned to stare behind him, for the moment at a loss.

  Striking whilst the iron was hot, Andrew went on. "He was here, where my brother was sitting, all yesterday's session. As were . . . others. Not commissioners. Will Your Grace order the release of my brother, forthwith, make apology, and allow him to return to this hall?"

  Lauderdale cleared his throat. "No, sir - I will not. Mr. Tollemache is here at my request. As my, my servant. For my convenience. I may require . . . that he fetches things, papers, suchlike. From my coach. Or from Holyroodhouse." Nothing could make that sound less than feeble.

  "Then should he not wait outside, Your Grace? If my brother must . . ."

  Strangely, Lauderdale was rescued from his predicament by the Duke of Hamilton. That haughty individual stood up and rapped on his chair for suitable quiet.

  "Your Grace - may I suggest that you and this young man settle this personal disagreement at some more suitable time and place? For myself, I see no reason why I should have to wait while this unseemly bicker goes on. No doubt others feel the same." He raised a copy of the paper being circulated for signature. "This writing affirms all loyalty to King Charles and supports the royal prerogative - which I am glad to sign. But it goes on to condemn the Covenant and all its supporters. I am no Covenanter - as once were you! The inference here is that in supporting the King we hereby declare against those who hold to the Covenant. This I am not prepared to sign."

  There was considerable murmur of agreement.

  "Did not King Charles himself sign the said Covenant?" Belhaven pointed out. His voice was weaker today and he did not rise when he spoke. Yesterday presumably had been overmuch for him.

  Andrew fumed, but stooped to listen to his uncle who was tugging at his sleeve.

  "Sit, lad. You can do no more. At this stage."

  "But ... it is disgraceful! And Henry . . . ?"

  "Let it be. Henry will be let out anon. Nothing to be gained by offending Hamilton. So much depends on him . . ."

  Unhappily Andrew sat down.

  Hamilton at least gained some small advantage in getting the words treasonable and seditious inserted in the declaration before Covenanters' activities, which enabled him, and all, to sign it - Lauderdale making it very clear that refusal to sign would entail expulsion from the session, as refusing to admit the King's authority.

  While this was going on, the Earl of Southesk rose to declare that it had c
ome to his hearing that not a few of the elections for this parliament and convention had been grievously misconducted and rigged. Since this would of course affect votes taken and decisions made, he would move for an enquiry.

  This was the signal for Andrew. He seconded and moved further that a committee of enquiry be set up by the convention itself to investigate the entire issue of elections and how they were conducted. Sir David Carnegie and Belhaven signified agreement, as did others.

  Rothes huffed and puffed. But as no such enquiry could change the voting strengths of this assembly, he did not rule it out-of-order. Names were put forward for this committee, with Carnegie as chairman, and the thing went through without a vote.

  So far so good. Andrew felt a little better.

  Before any other tactic could be developed, Argyll briefly moved that the vote on the King's supply be taken, Archbishop Sharpe seconding.

  Southesk rose to assert that, since his previous motion was carried, implicit was the understanding that the voting strengths in this convention were, to say the least, at issue and doubtful.

  Therefore no vote today could accurately reflect the will of the nation - especially on so important a matter as this. He moved no vote and decision until the committee had reported.

  Rothes, as expected, ruled that the convention had not been proved not to be properly representative. Until it was, it could and must act. The counter-motion was therefore unsound and the Earl of Argyll's motion stood. They would vote.

  Again Andrew jumped up. "If a committee of enquiry is acceptable for the lesser matter of election-rigging, how much more necessary for this greater matter," he cried. "Here is the largest sum of moneys ever demanded of Scotland. £1,800,000 Scots! Every man in this hall will have to put his hand deep into his pocket, I say! Think of it, my lords and friends - there are 290 of us here, representing lordships, baronies, shires, burghs, dioceses. How many times goes 290 into 1,800,000? Have you all calculated it? I will tell you - 6,200 times. Heed that - 6,200! Will you all go back to your houses, your coffers, your burghs, those who elected you, and find £6,200 each? Are you prepared to do this? Without enquiry? On the word of . . . some London clerk! I say a committee of enquiry first!"