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'The
more fools them, then!'

'It
may be. But ignore them at your peril, my lord! Yon yowling's no'
your
voice.
But it's the
other
voice
o' Scotland, for a' that I ‘

A
fanfare of trumpets, from outside the south transept, stilled all
conversation. The doors at that side were thrown open, while all who
had seats in the church got to their feet The noise of the crowd was
much less noticeable than when the north porch door had been open,
for this south entrance gave on to the enclosure of Parliament
Square, a narrow area which could be barred off from die High Street.
Out from Parliament Close across the way, the Lord Advocate, with Sir
George Elphinstone of Blythswood, the Lord Justice Clerk, pacing
slowly and with great dignity, led the procession of the King's
judges, the Lords of Session.

'All
this to hear a prayer-book read !' Montrose said. 'Wait you,' Rothes
advised. "There's word that Spottiswoode's here himsel', after
all.'

The
Archbishop? From St Andrews? Then - he must see this as of vital
importance,' Napier said. 'A trial of strength, perhaps?'

They
would bind us. Seek to commit us to acceptance of this thing, by
sheer weight o' consequence.' Rothes snorted. 'They tell me that
Spottiswoode came, meaning to lead in the whole Privy Council. But
most o' it has chosen to sit in the body o' the kirk, like you and
me, Archie - so he'll hae to make do wi' a when bishops!'

The
judiciary seated, there was another fanfare, and again the south
doors were opened. First came in a delicate-looking young man,
seeming almost to wilt under die brilliant splendour of a Lion
Rampant tabard, carrying a baton of office.

'Save
us - Balfour! Sir James Balfour of Dcnmiln, the Lyon !' Montrose
exclaimed. 'The very trappings of royalty. Can they do this?'

'Aye,
they can - it means that Spottiswoode is here as Chancellor o'
Scotland, and King's representative, no' just as Archbishop and
Primate,' Rothes said. 'So what is done here today has all the
authority of the state behind it.'

'Scarcely
that - since it lacks that of parliament,' the Graham amended. 'Here
is the royal authority, yes. The great officers of state. The
judiciary. The Church. But not parliament. Let us not forget it.'

A
galaxy of magnificently robed prelates paced in stately fashion
behind the Lord Lyon King of Arms and his heralds, vivid in rich
colours, jewel-encrusted, golden croziers and crosses winking in the
July morning sun. The first pair, one heavy and white-haired, the
other tall, dark and stooping, wore taller, more elaborate mitres
than the pairs behind, their trains borne by handsomely attired
pages. To the singing of a great choir of men and boys in white
surplices, who came on after, this gorgeous company entered.

'Both
archbishops! Glasgow too !' Napier exclaimed. 'And four other bishops
- Galloway, Dunblane, Dunkeld and Brechin. So they are not
introducing the prayer-book in their own dioceses. AH concentrated on
Edinburgh today. Even Tom Hope did not know of this.'

'As
well that parade o' play-actors came straight ower frae Parliament
Close, and no' by the High Street door!' Rothes commented grimly. 'Or
they'd have lost some o' their gewgaws by this! Look at them !'

Because
these, like the judiciary before them, came in from the end of the
south transept, the people crowded in the nave did not see them for a
few moments. When they did come into sight, making for the row of
chairs set on the north of the Communion-table, a great corporate
sigh arose from the congregation. There was exclamation amongst it,
condemnation, even a sort of unwilling admiration, but no real
uproar. Clearly many were not unimpressed by the sheer magnificence
of the spectacle, especially the women on the stools in front.
Nothing like this had been seen in St Giles for eighty years, since
the Reformation of blessed memory.

Montrose's
parallel sigh of relief was premature. The choir had now come into
view. And where the gorgeous copes, chasubles, stoles and mitres of
the prelates had got by without clamour, through their unaccustomed
splendour, the simple white surplices which clothed the humble
singers were as red rags to bulls. Not to the mass of this
congregation, but to those representatives of the common people at
the front. To a woman they rose from their stools, and cried out,
pointing, hooting, skirling at the hated symbols which their
ministers had been denouncing as Popery for months. Pandemonium
ensued.

But
the authorities were not unprepared for trouble, whatever
touched it off. The choristers, after wavering momentarily,
paced on, singing the louder. At a sign from the Lord Lyon King of
Arms, the Town Guard present, who had been lining the walling around
the crossing, stepped forward, halberds at the ready, threateningly.
And from the south porch another blast of trumpets, louder than
before, shook the great building.

Between
them, these moves served their turn. The abigails and serving-women
quietened, perceived that authority frowned on them and them alone,
and that the quality behind them were looking and sounding indignant,
not at the choristers hut at themselves for usurping their right of
protest One or two continued to glare, one shaking a bony fist; but
most resumed their seats, and none continued with the shouting.

While
still the singing continued, in at the same south door came the
cathedral clergy and celebrant's procession, cross-bearer, acolytes,
servers and priests with the holy vessels and elements, followed by
the canons, the Dean, and, bringing up the rear, the plump, rosy
person of Bishop Lindsay of Edinburgh, in purple cope and mitre. He
paced forward, wielding his crozier with great assurance and
authority but with very wary eyes. The doors shut finally behind him.

All
in turn bowing before the Communion-table and the crucifix behind to
the faint murmuring of the congregation, the priests and canons took
their places on the chairs facing the senior prelates. The Bishop
climbed into the pulpit, and Dean Hannah moved into the reading-desk
immediately below. He was a little man, with a fiery red complexion
and a long nose - and could be seen to be wearing a white linen
surplice under the short dalmatic and stole. He held a book in his
hands gingerly, as though it might well burn his fingers.

As
the singing died away, there was to be heard a steady undertone of
muttering from the assembled worshippers.

The
Bishop raised a beringed hand. 'By command of the King's most
excellent Grace, and in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost. Amen,' he intoned in a rich, sonorous voice.

Nobody
contested that.

'The
service will be that contained in the Book of Common Prayer ordained
to be read in this and every other church of His Grace's realm of
Scotland, by the King's command, that of His Grace's Privy Council,
and of die College of Bishops.'

The
company stirred restively.

The
Bishop looked down on the Dean, coughed, and gestured.

Dean
Hannah made some play of opening the book, finding the place
with die blue satin and gold-frilled marker, and cleared his throat.
'Let us pray,' he said.

All
around the Communion-table, the clerics and choristers and
acolytes sank to their knees, the prelates and canons on specially
provided kneelers, the rest on the floor.

The
congregation thus early were faced with decision. Standing tight
packed as they were it would have been difficult to kneel anyway,
with more space taken up by legs than by feet. One or two may have
sought to do so, at the back, for there was some slight commotion.
Only those at the very front were in any position for ready kneeling
- the maids, the Provost and magistrates, the judges and the great
lords. Cautiously Edinburgh's civic fathers watched to see what their
betters would do. One or two of the judges began to bend their knees,
and then perceived that neither the Lord Advocate nor the Lord
Justice Clerk were doing so, and almost imperceptibly straightened up
again. All eyed the stalls of the earls, questioningly.

This
problem of kneeling had not occurred to Montrose, any more than to
most of his companions. He realised that innumerable eyes were on
him. He bowed his head, and remained standing. Something like a moan
rose from the great gathering.

'Let
us
pray!'
the
Dean repeated, his voice considerably higher-pitched.

From
above him, the Bishop's deeper voice snapped 'Proceed!'

'Ah.
Hm. Aye. Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires
known, and from whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our
hearts by the inspiration of Thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly
love Thee and worthily magnify Thy Holy Name: Through Christ our
Lord,' he said hurriedly.

The
assembly, standing, listened. It was a prayer that they all knew,
with nothing new about it. After all, most of them had been using a
liturgical service for years, John Knox's Liturgy.

Then
followed the Summary of the Law. 'Our Lord Jesus Christ said: Hear O
Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord..

Only
the clergy and choristers made response : 'Lord have mercy upon us,
and write these Thy laws in our hearts, we beseech Thee.' But they
intoned it strongly, hearteningly, and the Dean stood up a little
more straight, his voice recovering.

'Lord
have mercy upon us!'

"Well
might ye say it!' one of the women made response, before the formal
'Christ have mercy upon us!' drowned die rest.

The
congregation stirred, like a restive goaded beast

Shocked,
the Dean's voice went squeaky again. 'Lord . . Lord... have
mercy...'

A
woman's excited laughter, from the back, set off a surge of
exclamation and comment

The
Dean tried to continue, raising his voice higher and higher - but
with it all the noise increased. Presently Hannah gave up the
attempt, and gazed about him anxiously, wringing his hands.

In
the pulpit, Bishop Lindsay was speaking - but could not make himself
heard. Then one of the stools was knocked over, as a woman rose to
shout something - and the clatter of it produced one of those abrupt
moments of silence which can follow a new and violent sound. And into
it the Bishop could be heard clearly commanding, 'The collect, man!
Get on with the collect for the day.'

The
word 'collect' from the pulpit did indeed seem to collect and distil
all the pent-up animosity and tension in the place. There was a
rumbling grow! from many throats, and above it all a penetrating
woman's screech.

'Colic,
ye say! Deil colic the wame o' ye, I say! Out on ye - Anti-christ!'

A
great shout of laughter rose from the company, wholly and finally
dissipating any residual atmosphere of worship from the assembly. Hut
the laughter came from the assembled quality, not at all from
the common folk with the stools in front. They were roused to rage,
rather than amused -partly, possibly, by that very laughter behind
them, which might seem to mock them. The maids were all on their feet
now.