The Patriot (8 page)

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 S
heriff-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.

At a stroke, however, Andrew Fletcher was relieved of involuntary guest and quartered soldiers.

The sequel developed with similar speed. The South-West rose in real revolt. Since the dragoons were at first concentrated on Dumfries and Galloway, the Covenant leadership, such as it was, chose to muster force further north, in Ayrshire and Lanark. Graham advised striking at once to crush any armed rising before it could gather strength. But he was not in command - indeed it was doubtful who was, at this stage, presumably General Sir Tarn Dalziel of the Binns, of Russian fame, but he was not on the spot. At any rate, Graham acted with typical vigour and assurance on his own, force-marched his own small command northwards, met the Covenanting force, in much greater numbers than his own, at Drumclog near to Loudoun Hill in south-west Lanarkshire, attacked forthwith and was soundly beaten.

That proud captain's humiliation must have been intense, at being defeated by a rabble of Whiggamore peasants led by completely untrained leaders such as Hackett, Balfour and Hamilton of Preston, who had nevertheless skilfully used the miry nature of the terrain - as Bruce had done in the same Loudoun Hill vicinity three centuries before - to bog down the cavalry horses, so that there were thirty-six dead dragoons to only three Covenanter casualties. Graham had to flee to
Glasgow, leaving Ayrshire and Lanarkshire wholly in Covenant hands.

Scotland rocked at the news. At Saltoun they did not know whether to cheer or to groan. Whilst it could possibly be the beginning of great things, Andrew felt strongly that this was not the way, murder, violence and religious bigotry. And undoubtedly government reaction would be drastic.

Lauderdale might be hundreds of miles away, and battling to retain his position there. But, whatever his faults, he had never been less than decisive. He was still Secretary of State for Scotland, and in only the time taken for the news to reach London, for an interview with King Charles and for his couriers to race northwards, counter-action was mounted in no fumbling fashion. The Duke of Monmouth, the King's son by Lucy Walters, was in command of the royal forces in the North of England - he was, in fact Captain-General of the army since his twenty-first year - and he was directed to march forthwith, with all his available strength, over the Border, and to put down this insolent rebellion with all speed and no mercy. Of the speed, certainly there was no question. The Drumclog affray had taken place on 11th June; within ten days, young Monmouth was in Lanarkshire in major strength. The Covenant leadership, centred on the town of Hamilton, was still undecided whether or not to march on Glasgow. Graham, with all the men he could muster, rode out of that city, joined the Duke, advised immediate attack before the rebel forces could be joined by others, and pointed out an excellent strategic position at a bridge over Clyde at Bothwell. Battle was joined next day, and the Covenanters, to the number of some four thousand, utterly routed at Bothwell Brig. Five hundred were slain on the spot, twelve hundred taken prisoner and the rest fled.

The rising was over.

It was a strange and unexpected experience for Andrew Fletcher to be an invited guest at the Palace of Holyroodhouse. Although the invitation had come in the Duke of Monmouth's name, Andrew had no doubt that it was at the instigation of
John Graham, who now appeared to be very close to the Duke.
Why
he should be invited was another matter. He went warily.

He found the palace's forecourt packed with coaches and horses, coachmen, grooms and retainers - so clearly it was to be a large gathering. Indeed, when he reached the handsome reception-chamber on the first floor of the old James the Fifth wing, it was to discover that practically everybody who was anybody in Lowland Scotland was present - save of course those who were in prisons up and down the land. That others hostile to the regime were asked, was quickly apparent, for after perceiving Southesk and his brother at the far end of the apartment, the next person he saw was Johnnie Hamilton, whom he had last seen only
a week or so before at old Bel
haven's funeral. So Johnnie was now second Lord Belhaven and Stenton and entitled to take his due place in affairs of the realm.

Andrew made his way over to his friend's side. "What are we all here for, think you?" he asked. "This was not Rothes' notion, I swear! Nor Mackenzies'." And he nodded towards where the King's Advocate was chatting with Argyll.

"Do not ask me, Andrew. I am a babe, as yet, in such matters. But I am glad to see you. You can tell me what to do!"

At least they were not long kept waiting here. A silence fell on the company as the Earl of Rothes appeared in the doorway, flanked by two guards, who thumped on the floor with their halberds. Then these drew aside and a darkly slender young man appeared, modestly dressed but wearing the ribbon and star of the Garter, behind him a group, prominent amongst them Graham of Claverhouse.

The company bowed - but in various differing degrees. James Stewart or Crofts or Scott, Duke of Monmouth, represented problems as to how he was to be saluted. He was Captain-General certainly. He was the King's son, but illegitimate; at least that was the official line, although there were enduring rumours in high places that Charles had indeed secretly married his youthful love, Lucy Walters, in Holland-which would, of course, make something odd out of his present gracious Queen Catherine of Braganza. Again, the King had no legitimate offspri
ng; which meant that, if legiti
mated in law, this eldest bastard could become heir to the throne. He was, after all, a Protestant, while the only other contender, Charles's brother, James, Duke of York, was unfortunately an enthusiastic Romish convert. Moreover, Monmouth was married to their own Countess of Buccleuch, head of the house of Scott - they had in fact been created Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth at their wedding, when he was aged fourteen. It was a less than successful marriage, but there were children - so that the Protestant succession might well be ensured. Small wonder, then, if men were unsure how to greet this latest representative of the ancient royal line of Stewart.

One thing was certain - there could be no doubt about his male parentage. Monmouth was all but a reproduction of the King, although somewhat better-looking, with the same sardonic features, long nose and great lustrous dark eyes, inherited from James the Sixth. He stood now in the doorway, smiling faintly, until the stir subsided. Then he raised hand and voice.

"A good day to you all, my lords and gentlemen," he said pleasantly, with just the slightest impediment of speech, another Stewart inheritance. "I thank you for coming to attend on me here. Refreshment is forthcoming. I shall have a word or two to say later, if you will bear with me." He nodded and came forward.

"A change in dukes from Lauderdale and Hamilton, at least!" Andrew said. Various great ones were brought to be presented to Monmouth by his entourage, in distinctly royal fashion. These were, however, very much government supporters. Servitors brought wine and small meats.

Sir David Carnegie came over and was introduced to Johnnie.

"Are we being honoured, cajoled or threatened and warned, Mr. Fletcher?" he asked. "I find this assembly intriguing. But there will be a purpose behind it, undoubtedly."

"I was saying to
Lord
Belhaven that this duke is an improvement on Lauderdale and Hamilton, sir. However peculiar his position."

"Be not too hard on Hamilton, my friend. We would be a
deal worse without him. But this Monmouth will want something of us - or we would not be here."

"I do not question that, sir. How is your daughter, may I ask?"

"Sufficiently well, I believe. Although to tell truth I see little of her. She spends most of her time, dressed like a fish-wife, carrying baskets of food up to the kirkyard of Greyfriars!"

"She is here? In Edinburgh?"

"Why yes. Has been this past week. I had business in the law-courts. But any small gain I made out of my suit, Margaret is spending on feeding the starving unfortunates at Greyfriars."

"They are starving? The Bothwell Brig prisoners . . . ?"

"They are not being otherwise fed, I understand. Save by sundry soft-hearted folk of Edinburgh. And such as my daughter. Over one thousand of them penned in the kirkyard, without shelter or care."

"But - I
had heard that this Monmouth was more kind? Or less harsh?"

"Perhaps he is. Or perhaps merely he does not enjoy hangings and shootings. Prefers something less . . . abrupt!"

"I did not know of this of the prisoners. It is shameful! Perhaps I might accompany Mistress Margaret? See for myself . . .?"

A further thumping of halberds gained silence for the Duke.

"My friends," he said modestly, "I am no orator, as some here. So I ask forbearance. I have come to Scotland at a sorry time, and would have wished it otherwise. But I consider myself no stranger amongst you. After all, my wife and children dwell here. And from here come my illustrious ancestors. It would please me, indeed, to be here more often, even perhaps to reside here myself."

He paused, as though there was some special significance in that.

"It is my hope that the changes which must be made in Scotland hereafter may be as little to the hurt and discomfort of all as is possible. But change there has to be — let none think otherwise. As this uprising has shown, a firmer hand is required. Firmer and less distant. But, also more fair, more
understanding, I am assured. Therefore my message to you all is clear, but that of a friend, indeed almost one of yourselves. Trust and support my royal father's policies - his concern for you is great. Aid, not hinder, his new officers. Guide your people to do likewise and to forsake their rebellious ways. For their own and your good. And all will gain notably. This I promise. Fail in it, and I fear for Scotland - indeed I do! In sorrow. That is all, my lords and fellow-subjects. I thank you for listening patiently."

There was some some applause for this peculiar speech from amongst the government supporters, led by Rothes. But the great majority present were silent, eyeing each other doubtfully, wondering what it meant. On the face of it, there was nothing here to have brought them all to hear, platitudes, woolly nothings. Yet there was nothing woolly about the speaker or his manner; the reverse indeed. Moreover it appeared that this was all that he had come to say, for thereafter the Duke began to move slowly towards the door again.

"Did I come all the way from Beil to hear that?" Johnnie demanded, low-voiced. "What is he at?"

"There must be more to this than there sounds," Sir David asserted. "Monmouth is no fool. Here was some message -
other than the obvious."

"Certain points he seemed to stress," Andrew said. "That there was this change coming. New officers. A hand firmer but less distant. Could that mean Lauderdale's hand removed? And this of his own fondness for Scodand - of which we were not aware hitherto!"

"Lauderdale, yes - it could be the end of Lauderdale. Perhaps Monmouth is to replace Lauderdale? Preparing his way? Coming to bide here . . . ?"

Further speculation was cut short, as the Duke reached the door, by a touch on Andrew's arm. He found Graham at his side.

"Come and have a word with the Duke, my friend," that man said.

Surprised at this summons, belated as it was, Andrew could scarcely refuse. As they went, to follow Monmouth out, he said to the other, "Do I congratulate you on your military activities, since last we met? Or otherwise?"

Claverhouse shrugged. "Who knows? I did my duty, as I saw it. A soldier takes failure and success as they come. As must you, Fletcher."

Still wondering just what that meant, he found Monmouth and his group waiting in an ante-room off the main stairway. If it was himself for whom they waited, then perhaps the Duke was not anxious to be seen speaking to him?