Unicorn Rampant (17 page)

Meanwhile, Ludovick and Mary were enabled to be alone together much more than they had hoped for.

James told John that he wanted a final report, with recommendations, two evenings before the day he opened parliament, for there would be no time thereafter to go into the matter. John therefore produced a list of possible sites, mainly where tributaries joined the main North Esk, from Lasswade and Pol ton up to Auchendinny and Penicuik. The next day, the 16th of the month, he conducted the King, with a very small party, which included the Earl of Morton who owned most of the ground concerned, on a tour of inspection. James saw, weighed up, commented acutely and expressed himself as pleased, commending John and declaring that he thought that they might set up the first Esk mill possibly at Polton—and only in passing mentioned that this was a good augury for the work he would have for John to do in London.

As the significance of this remark dawned on the young man, he grew the more perturbed. Did this mean that the King expected him to go back to England with him? And, if James expected it, that was as good as a royal command. The thought took him aback. How could he leave Methven and his mother? So much there depended on him. Besides, he had no wish to go to London—even though it would be good to see more of his father.

Greatly daring, he put it to the monarch. "Sire, you said London? If I heard aright? I, I would not think that I would go there. I have Methven to see to, so much to be done there. I. . ."

"Hech, lad—to be sure you must return with me to London. You have proved useful and proficuous, aye right proficuous. In mair ways than the one. You will be a right convenience at my court—a deal mair so than maist there, I jalouse! I can do fine wi' the likes o' you in yon London."

"But, Your Majesty—Methven! And my mother. She needs me there. And I have great matters afoot. I cannot just leave all
..
."

"Greater matters than your sovereign-lord's service, Johnnie Stewart? Na, na—sic
volo, sic jubeo!
Methven will no' run awa', man. It managed fine before you were born, I mind! As for yon Mary Gray, she can look after hersel' good and well—has done a' her days. Or she wouldna be Patrick Gray's daughter!"

"But, Sire
..."

"Say nae mair about it, man. I can use you at Whitehall. Now, awa' wi' you—I'm for my bed. You'll attend me to the parliament the morn. We ride early for Holyrood, mind—so no biding in your bed the way your faither does . .
.!"

And that was that.

The Riding of Parliament was a traditional prologue to the first sitting of any new parliamentary session, designed to emphasise the importance of the occasion for the people as well as the participants. Normally all representatives of the Three Estates of Parliament, lords, commissioners of the shires and the burghs—these last having at the Reformation replaced the Estate of Holy Church—assembled at

Holyroodhouse and rode in procession up the almost-mile-long Canongate and High Street to the Parliament Hall beside St Giles High Kirk. But on this occasion there were two innovations, by royal command. One was a religious service for the members, some two hundred of them, held in the palace chapel, which had been formed out of an aisle of the burned and ruinous Abbey of the Holy Rood—and this set the cat amongst the pigeons straight away, since the service was conducted by William Cowper, Bishop of Galloway, with the English Bishop of Ely making an admittedly brief address. Moreover the chapel proved to be decked with sculptured figures of the twelve apostles and the four evangelists, specially sent up from London by the King; and, worse still, an organ, or kist o'whistles, as it was called, defiled the worship. Worst of all, the Communion was administered to the recipients kneeling, the King leading the way, anathema to the Presbyterians, who proclaimed the custom as the worship of material idols and a supporting of the abhorred doctrine of transubstantiation. So quite a number of the commissioners, having entered the chapel, promptly marched out again, others stood about looking severe, refusing either to sit or kneel, and some partook of the bread and wine, but standing not kneeling. Altogether it made for awkward worship, however blessedly curtailed. It was, of course, the Scots who displayed protest; the English, being all Episcopalians of one sort or another, anyway, accepted all as normal.

The other innovation followed, and may have had something to do with the first's reception. For although this was the Riding of Parliament, James announced that he alone would ride and everybody else would walk, all horses to be left at Holy rood. This aroused further consternation on all hands—not so much that the distance of less than a mile was too much but that it would look undignified, especially as many there were dressed unsuitably for walking, the lords in their full ermine-trimmed robes, the great officers-of-state more decoratively-garbed still in wigs and brocaded gowns. Even the bishops, James's favourites, were upset, for they were the most elaborately turned-out of all, in full canonical fig, highly impracticable for walking Edinburgh's refuse-strewn streets. But the monarch was adamant, he himself, as always over-dressed but in the same clothing he had worn for all occasions, hunting, feasting or inspecting paper-mills, and now distinctly soiled to say the least. And the same old high hat. No doubt if anyone had dared to suggest that he might be differently clad for this occasion, he would have answered, as he had done more than once before, that fine dressing was for the increase of ordinary men's dignity; whereas he had no need for dignity, being the Lord's Anointed.

So a move was made, amidst much grumbling, already late—but then the parliament could not start without them—Steenie walking at the King's stirrup, clad all in white satin and gold. The English, of course, were not robed, save for Bishop Andrews of Ely and Dean Laud, having no part to play in a Scots parliament—although there were one or two rather unsure of their status, to whom James had given Scots peerages.

After the King came the great officers-of-state, High Constable, Lord Lyon King of Arms, Chancellor Fyvie and the rest. Then the judges, Lords of Session and the Provost and magistrates of the city. The Duke of Lennox then led the lords of parliament, one marquis, earls, viscounts and barons. The Scots bishops joined this group for the occasion, their position delicate. Since the Church was reformed, bishops and priors and the like had lost their seats in parliament; but James had insisted that, since the English bishops were Lords Spiritual and had seats in the House of Lords, their new Scottish episcopal counterparts were entitled to a similar status. This was hotly contested, and undoubtedly a majority of the parliament would refuse such the right to vote. However, James had the ultimate sanction of being able to create lords of parliament, and could, if driven to it, make all the bishops such lords and none could say them nay. So there was a sort of uneasy truce in the matter.

Behind this colourful and lordly company came the ranks of the county lairds and then the chosen representatives of the towns, these certainly the best clad for Edinburgh's cobblestones. There followed a great straggle of English notables, sauntering and laughing, with sundry mere privileged spectators such as John Stewart. A detachment of the royal guard went before and after all, mounted on fine horses, to the resentment of the pacing parliamentarians.

The citizens were out in force to cheer them on, with frankest commentary. Mary Gray waved from Lady Tippermuir's window.

At Parliament Hall much time was taken in arranging the seating, with precedence very much to the fore—and nowhere more particularly insisted upon than amongst the burgh representatives, with royal burghs, however small, consigning others ten times as large to lesser placings, and the dates and seniority of burgh charters being vehemently emphasised and demanded. The spectators, from their various perches, were able to consider all, and marvel.

The Scots parliament was unlike the English one in many ways. First and foremost, its true title was The King in His Estates, and the monarch sat in and took part in the proceedings. Indeed, if the King or his appointed High Commissioner was not present, any assembly of the members, however validly called, was not a parliament but only a convention, and incapable of law-making. Secondly, all members, lords, lairds and townsmen, sat together in one assembly, with no Houses of Commons or Lords. There was no Speaker, the business of the session being conducted by the Chancellor, with due deference to the Throne, which could always intervene, advise, or call an adjournment. Many rules were different. It could be argued that it was more democratic than the English model in that every man, from duke to small town representative, had an equal voice and vote. But the Crown remained very much in command, so that there could be no continuing battle between King and Commons as had prevailed for so long in England.

On this occasion James took very personal charge right away, being able to dispense with all the formalities of the last fourteen years, of the High Commissioner reading out his credentials, delivering the royal injunctions, announcing details of agenda and procedure, and the like. The King plunged straight in, although he spoke with unusually careful enunciation, at first at any rate.

"My lord Chancellor, my lords spiritual, temporal, my good and leal friends and subjects all," he said, patting his hat more firmly on his over-large head. "We do rejoice, aye rejoice, to preside over this our parliament and assembly of our ancient realm once again. Would to God Almighty that we could do the same over our English parliament, to the better government of that realm!" And he glowered from his throne at such English subjects as he could place about the hall. "Aye. But we are right pleased to be here. We admit our natural and salmon-like affection and earnest desire to visit again our native land. Aye, salmon-like.
Amicus humani generis!
"

He peered round, to observe the effect of that on his audience, but perceiving little appreciation, straightened his hat again, which always tended to tip back, and continued.

"Aye, well—there is business to be done. Plenties of business. We will do what we have to do and leave what we have not. Mind that." With this peculiar warning, he abandoned the royal we and spoke in his more normal and slobbery voice. "In this business I would counsel all to be brief, succinct and laconical—aye, laconical and inflatulent. If we Scots have a fault it is to be ower disputatious and largiloquent. Unlike my guid English subjects who get by wi' but a pickle o' words, and them gey clippit! Mind, they hae much to teach us, I hae found, if no' just in matters educational and scholastical. Some o' them are here to instruct us, and we maun learn frae them. Learn how we may reduce the barbarity o' this Scotland to the sweet civility o' England! Aye, if the Scots nation would be so docible as to learn the goodness o' the English, I might wi' mair facility prevail in my desire for the weal o' this mair ancient realm. Ooh, aye—much to learn, my friends."

There was a shuffling and stirring from the crowded benches at this, frowns and murmurings. John Stewart, who was becoming used to his liege-lord's ways, recognised this as satire but most of the company did not.

James warmed to his theme. "Such Scots as did accompany me to London already hae learned much—how to drink healths and to wear coaches and gay clothes. To tak tobacco and to speak neither Scots nor English! Mony siklike benefits they have to confer. Forby, mind you, I am beholden to the English for their love and conformity wi' my royal desires—in especial,
their
parliament!
Dictum sapienti sat est
!
"

At last the Scots perceived the royal humour and that it was the English and not themselves who were being ridiculed, and the laughter rose. It is to be doubted whether the said English, in fact, were any the wiser.

Having prepared his ground, as it were, James suddenly came to business. "This parliament will consider and rarify sundry matters o' Church government; the selection and appointment o' bishops and archbishops; the abolition o' hereditary sheriffdoms, now maist outdated, and the institution o' justices o' the peace, for the better administration o' my justice; approve the renewal o' the sanctions and decrees against yon limmers o' the Clan Gregor, still a thorn in the flesh o' my honest subjects; consider the matter o' further monopolies and permissions for trade and manufacture and the revenues to be gained therefrom. Aye, these and other competent matters which may be brought up and which I may permit—competent, mind! My lord Chancellor—you may proceed."

Lord Fyvie cleared his throat at this abrupt and crisp directive. "To be sure, Sire." He sat at a table below the throne, flanked by clerks. He shuffled his papers. "His Majesty has certain proposals for the better regulating of Christ's Church in this realm," he announced, in his pleasantly cultivated voice, in such notable contrast to that of the monarch. "These are
..."

"No' proposals—requirements," James interrupted.

There was a gasp from the benches, smiles swiftly wiped off all faces. James's choice of this subject to start with, and now this prompt and downright challenge, let everyone see that this parliament was going to be a battle. It also demonstrated a side of their liege-lord's character which few there knew. Probably all present had heard of the Five Articles of Perth, since they had been denounced from the vast majority of pulpits in the land in the two weeks or so since they were promulgated in that city, after having been proposed by the King in St Andrews, as it were between hunting-bouts.