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  Bedlam broke out, everywhere men on their feet, shouting. Rothes shouted and beat his table as loud as any, but few paid heed. Lauderdale's florid features were working and he seemed to be shouting also. Belhaven, Southesk, Carnegie, Bruce, Scott and others were all claiming to second the motion. But it was the main body of the members over which Andrew stared - and a grin spread over his face. For it was at these that he had aimed - and, it seemed, aimed truly. They were hit where it hurt, in their pockets. Although, probably, few could take in the real meaning of a million pounds and more, most scarcely having even heard the term before, all there could envisage £6,200 - and quake at the thought that each might have to find such sum, or at least contribute deeply to it. With £300 a fair annual value for many a respectable estate, the thing, put this way, was quite overwhelming.

  Lauderdale and Rothes, whatever else, were no fools, realists to recognise the situation. The latter went over to consult the High Commissioner, and only a brief exchange was necessary. Returning to his chair, the Chancellor awaited quiet.

  "A committee of enquiry is accepted," he said curtly. "Four. Names?"

  Thereafter all was wound up in minutes. Four names were put forward, all as it were neutral in theory - and all of whom, undoubtedly, would be bribed, threatened or otherwise got at by Lauderdale, before they reported. To that extent all there realised that here was no true victory or defeat. But it was the first time in his 'reign' that the uncrowned king of Scotland had been halted in his course, publicly, out-manoeuvred, humiliated. When he stamped out of the hall thereafter, his whole demeanour proclaimed the fact.

  The young man who had encompassed this was surrounded by well-wishers, congratulators, hand-shakers - many of whom no doubt would have voted against him had it come to the crunch. He was appreciative but far from ecstatic. Over-modesty was not part of Andrew's nature; but he also had a strong sense of reality and recognised that this was only a superficial triumph, one step on a long journey. And, to be sure, a hazardous step - of that he scarcely required the many warnings he received.

  He went off to spring Henry out of the Tolbooth.

  3

  Being a commissioner elected to the Scots Parliament in the later 17th century was scarcely onerous as regards duties of attendance, for the King seldom called sessions more than once a year and often less frequently. So Andrew Fletcher was not overburdened with parliamentary work. There were, however, other duties to which a parliamentarian was expected to devote himself, one being a member of the Commission of Supply for his own county area. It was distinctly ironic that this should become one of his responsibilities, involving him in quite a lot of work, since amongst other duties it included the raising of cess and levies and the finding of supplies, forage, fodder, quarters and so on, for the King's forces in that area - and when he returned to Saltoun after a few days of private meetings in Edinburgh, it was to find that the troop of dragoons quartered on him were not only still there but had been doubled, and on direct orders of the Secretary of State, Lauderdale. Apart from the inconvenience and mortification of this situation, it did of course inflict a serious financial burden, with one hundred-odd men and their horses to feed and sustain for an indefinite period.

  All this was made more galling in that Saltoun became in effect the military headquarters for East Lothian, since the total strength allotted, or imposed, on the county was two hundred and forty regular horse and four hundred militia foot, and these were to cover a large area amounting to some one hundred and fifty square miles; it was obvious therefore that Saltoun, in the Lammermuir foothills, had the lion's share of the mobile troops and was bound to become the important centre. At any rate, here the commandant for the shire took up his abode meantime, no doubt directed to do so.

  This officer proved to be a surprise. He was not at all the usual military type, but a brilliantly handsome man in his early thirties, stylish, cultured, personable, by name Captain John Graham and kin to the Marquis of Montrose, laird of the estate of Claverhouse near to Dundee. More interesting still, he proved to be related to Margaret Carnegie, his mother having been a daughter of the first Earl of Northesk, younger brother of the first Earl of Southesk. Recently returned from the foreign wars, with a commendation from the Prince of Orange - whose life he had saved at the Battle of Seneff - he was something of a poet, like his famous relative, and an extraordinary character for a professional soldier. But if Andrew hoped that he would, in consequence, be undemanding in his occupation of Saltoun Hall, he was disillusioned. Graham was charming, excellent company - but he had a steely glint to his darkly-attractive eyes. That he could be ruthless emerged from some of his anecdotes of the foreign wars; and they had proof of it when he had one of his own troopers flogged insensible for stealing one of the Saltoun farmyard chickens - this although the troops were billeted there at Andrew's expense. That young man came to the conclusion that John Graham might well cut his throat if ordered to do so by Lauderdale or to whoever he owed military obedience.

  Lauderdale had returned to London almost immediately after the convention, leaving Rothes the Chancellor and Mackenzie of Rosehaugh the King's Advocate, in command in Scotland - but to do his bidding. So far, apart from this extra military presence at Saltoun, there had been no further impositions or punishments, despite the dire warnings. But Andrew was by no means lulled into heedlessness. He knew that Lauderdale had a long arm and an unforgiving nature - the more so possibly as his fortunes declined.

  And that was the tenor of the talk which emanated from the South, that autumn. Lauderdale's star was in the descendant. There had been an alleged Popish plot uncovered in London by someone called Titus Oates, seemingly an ex-Puritan and also an ex-Jesuit, who was now being hailed as a national saviour, setting England by the ears, and all leading, oddly, to a change of government. Shaftesbury, the Lord Chancellor, was now Prime Minister, after being in the Tower. He hated Lauderdale and was working for his downfall. The King so far remained his friend, or at least continued to use him, reputedly declaring that, though complained of by the people, he did not appear to have done anything contrary to the interests of his sovereign. The news heartened Scotland.

  Andrew had ample to occupy his mind and time besides policies and affairs of state, and their consequences. He had a large and productive estate to run and was much interested in land-improvement, experimenting with the reclamation of wasteland, increased yield of crops, drainage and the like. Full of restless energy, he was not one to find time hanging heavily or to be at a loss for activities. Henry helped him in many of his interests but lacked his brother's driving force.

  One matter Henry did greatly help with, and gladly enough, was the letters. Andrew had not forgotten his assertion that the Scots Parliament required some sort of party structure, however loose, if it was going to be able to stand up to Lauderdale or any other High Commissioner. So he set himself the task of writing to a large selection of the lords and fellow-commissioners whom he thought might just possibly be receptive to the idea. The letters, although almost identical, all had to be written carefully in his own or Henry's hand - but he did not sign any, after much consideration. Some of the recipients, no doubt, might guess from whom they came; but there were two reasons against putting his name to them. The present masters of Scotland might well assert that the contents were designed to controvert the regime and so could be classed as seditious if not treasonable, thus giving excuse for the arrest of the signer. With the death-penalty even possible for attending a conventicle, such was far from improbable. Secondly, his name on such proposals would more or less tie him to actually join any party which developed; and since he was too new an arrival on the scene, and too young, to seek the leadership, he wished to retain his independence and freedom of action meantime. Henry disagreed with this attitude, and Andrew admitted that it was in a way contradictory; but he had a strong instinct not to become fully committed to any leadership of which he might possibly disapprove. For an advocate of the party system, Andrew F
letcher was in fact something of a misfit.

  The organisation of the delivery of the letters was a major headache and expense.

  Keeping Captain Graham in ignorance of the letter project was difficult, for he was apt to be very much present with them that autumn and winter at Saltoun. Excellent company, he frequently dined and spent the evening with the brothers - nor did they seek to freeze him out. He made no secret of the fact that he disliked his present duties; he was a fighting soldier not a billeting-officer or quartermaster. And he was a useful source of information, able to tell them much of current affairs that they were interested to hear. He had friends at Court, in especial his kinsman the present Marquis of Montrose, commander of the royal horse guards, who had indeed obtained for him this present command; and he seemed to hear of much that went on at Whitehall and Westminster. He revealed that Lauderdale was indeed in ever worsening odour, had lost his English position as First Commissioner of the Treasury, with the King under strong pressure from Shaftesbury to set up a House of Commons enquiry into corruptions and misappropriations of Treasury funds - which Lauderdale could hardly deny, but asserted were perpetrated wholly to carry out the royal policies in Scotland. But he was still a Lord of the Bedchamber. Just how much money he had brought back from Scotland, in July, was a secret between him and his royal master; but it was known that it was vastly less than had been expected. The committee of enquiry set up by the convention had quite quickly tabled its findings; and while undoubtedly its members were largely in Lauderdale's pocket, they had come to a compromise, acceding that troop-raising was necessary but suggesting, as a first payment, only £150,000 not £1,800,000. Of the 22,000 troops the money was alleged to pay for, only one quarter, 5,500, were presently authorised. Whether even these would materialise, who could tell, with how much of the £150,000 going into King Charles's pocket, or Lauderdale's own? John Graham personally hoped that the troops would be raised - and himself given a decent command, commensurate with his status in the Continental wars. An interesting blow-by-blow of the entire business was that Shaftesbury was, for his own purposes, now claiming that the entire 22,000 were in the process of being raised, not to put down Scots rebels but to be available to invade England. In the Titus Oates atmosphere and Popish plotting, this went down well with the House of Commons, however unfair to Lauderdale.

  Henry Fletcher declared that he did not know why Andrew wanted to get mixed up in politics, from all that he had so far learned of them.

  Captain Graham had some further and more inspiring information for them. It seemed that the Earl of Southesk and his household came south each year from his seat of Kinnaird in Angus, to winter at his town-house in Edinburgh. Almost in the same breath the Fletchers demanded to know whether Sir David Carnegie came also - to be assured that usually he did.

  Presumably John Graham would pay visits to his kinsfolk in Edinburgh . . . ?

  "I read your letter with much interest," Sir David said, having to raise his voice above the jigging strains of the fiddles and the skirling and stamp of the dancers. "You made a good case. Whether many will agree or no, I cannot say. But I think that you have convinced me, at least."

  "You . . . you realised that the letter was mine, sir?"

  "My dear Fletcher, it could not have been from anyone else! It was but an enlargement of what you said when last you were in this house. Besides, I could hear your voice in every line of it."

  "M'mm. Will others recognise it so easily, think you?"

  "I daresay - unless they are exceeding dull! Although few heard you here that night, to compare. But I warrant that Rothes and the Privy Council have copies before them, and have few doubts as to who wrote it! As well that you did not sign, nevertheless."

  "They cannot be sure it was me."

  "No. But they will be watching you, all the time . . ."

  The dance ended, and Henry brought back Margaret. She was flushed and sparkling-eyed, very lovely. John Graham also came up, with his partner, Catherine, Margaret's elder sister. She was strikingly handsome rather than lovely, and they made an eye-catching pair.

  When the fiddlers struck up again for the next dance, a schottische, Andrew and Graham each turned to Margaret at the same moment. Smiling, she curtsied to her kinsman but accepted Andrew's arm.

  The Highland Schottische is an energetic exercise, for pairs, one in which all the breath is required for the dancing rather than for conversation. But when, midway, there was a welcome pause for recovery, and they found themselves at the far end of the fine room, Margaret found breath enough for speech, still holding Andrew's arm.

  "You would appear to get on sufficiently well with that gallant cousin of mine, Mr. Fletcher," she said, nodding her head towards Graham. "Despite being, shall we say, on opposite sides."

  "Yes. Yes - he is excellent company. And, and does not thrust his views upon us."

  "No, he would not. But he will listen, I think?"

  "Oh, yes - he is a good listener." Andrew found it rather difficult to concentrate on this polite exchange. Margaret Carnegie had a particularly shapely bosom and the exertions of the schottische ensured that it was now in rhythmic but distracting commotion.

  "I would be careful what you tell him, nevertheless, seeing so much of him as you do."

  At her tone of voice, as it were deliberately light, he raised his glance to her face. "You mean . . . ?"

  "I mean that, in your position, the less that you tell him, probably, the better, Mr. Fletcher."

  "You think that he is not to be trusted?"

  "Oh, John is to be trusted! Trusted to consider his own best interests always. Trusted to do his duty, however unpleasant for others!"

  "You do not like him?"

  "In fact, I do. We get on very well. But then, I am not in danger of offending the King's government. I have known John all my life, and even admire him - or parts of him. But . . ."

  The fiddlers resumed and the dance recommenced. There was no further opportunity for private talk. But Andrew was not prevented from thinking. And his thoughts, on the whole, were gratifying. It was not that he did not take seriously the young woman's warning; after all, it merely confirmed his own impressions of John Graham; and he had been careful of what he said in that man's presence. What interested him was Margaret Carnegie's evident concern for him, that she had felt impelled to make an opportunity to speak as she had done. He danced the more lightly for her warning.

  Light-hearted dancing was but seldom indulged in as 1679 advanced and dark clouds gathered over Scotland. Everywhere the repressive measures of government produced the predictable, indeed calculated, reactions in the people. A letter of Lauderdale's which got into other hands was much quoted. 'Would to God they would rebel that so I might bring over an army of Irish Papists and cut all their throats!' Men and women were arrested in ever-growing numbers, imprisoned, tortured and executed - either for attending the outdoor services or conventicles, or for sheltering the ousted ministers, or for protesting against the activities of the military quartered upon them, who stole and beat and ravished without check, indeed encouraged officially to do so. The policy of 'eat them out of house and home' was widely imposed. And the Scots, being Scots, clung the more fiercely to the Covenanting principles that a man's form of worship was no business of the state; supported more doggedly the parish ministers who refused to accept the rule of the new bishops; hated and despised more vehemently the said prelates and the rag-bag of the minions with which they filled the churches - the King's Curates as they were called - many of whom had never put up a prayer or preached a sermon in their lives, some scarcely even able to sign their own names. Especially in the South-West, in Ayrshire, Dumfriesshire and Galloway, where the Whiggamores, as they were called, were strongest, resentment developed with unrest, sporadic violence, soldiers were resisted, church-services boycotted, the few who attended booed, the new incumbents mocked in the streets, even assaulted. Even in Haddingtonshire where the Covenanters had never been particularly strong
nor vocal, incidents multiplied; and the Bass Rock, off their coast, turned into a state prison for the arrested ministers, was full. Inevitably Andrew Fletcher had become involved, not as an attender at conventicles but in protesting against the policies and their harsh implementation - which, of course, John Graham had to enforce. That they did not actually come to blows was probably more through Graham's forebearance than his host's.

  It was at the beginning of May, almost a year after the convention, that matters came to a head. A party of Covenanters, led by two Fife lairds, Hackston of Rathillet and Balfour of Kinloch, waylaid the coach of Archbishop Sharpe crossing Magus Muir near St. Andrews, dragged out the unpopular prelate and murdered him. He had recently insisted on the execution of another would-be assassin; and of course was looked upon throughout the land as next only to Lauderdale in

  savagery. Nevertheless even pro-Covenant opinion was shocked by the deed - and there could be little doubt as to the repercussions.

  Few, however, foresaw the speed and scale of the results. The murderers fled to the South-West, where they could be sure of support amongst the Whiggamores. Rothes and Mackenzie had the excuse they wanted, for drastic action on a major scale. All available military forces were despatched to the area, including Graham of Claverhouse, who was sent to Dumfries with dragoons and militia. Not only so but, with the notorious Grierson of Lag and Johnstone of Westerhall, he was sworn in as Sheriff-Depute - which meant that not only could these officers impose their will militarily but could try and condemn legally as well. In other words, it was martial law.