Unicorn Rampant (41 page)

There was silence in the room for a space.

"Thank you, Master Primrose," Dunfermline said, at length. "This, my lords, puts a different light on the entire matter, I think you will all agree. Have you any observations to make on it, Sir John?"

John strove to hide his discomfort. "I know of no such arrangement, my lords," he said, a little thickly. "I can only say that, if such an arrangement was made, it was a private matter bet
ween my father and his deputy. I
am now Governor of Dumbarton and can dismiss or engage whom I will. Is it not so?"

The murmuring at the table was considerable. The Archbishop spoke.

"Such arrangement, if made, was surely a most improper one, between His Majesty's Keeper and Deputy-Keeper. This Council cannot approve of it. However, if so made, and duly witnessed in the name of the Keeper, it is presumably binding on his successor. Is that not so, Master Primrose?"

"I would say undoubtedly so, my lord Archbishop."

"Perhaps another man of law would proffer an opinion?" the Chancellor suggested. "You, Sheriff Napier?"

"I, I should require to see the signed and witnessed undertaking, my lord," that man said unhappily. "But, if such is in order, yes, I fear that it would apply to a new Keeper."

"Thank you, Sheriff-Depute. In the circumstances, my lords, I think that we can do no other than adjourn this hearing until we have the information we require to make a decision. Clearly the testimony and interests of my lord Duke of Lennox must be ascertained. And that will take some time, since he is in London. When received, this Council will meet again to consider and decide whether to hear the man Middlemas in person and to question Sir John Stewart further. Is it agreed? Then, my lords, we shall reconvene at a date to be appointed. You, Sir John, will no doubt hold yourself in readiness to appear, when summoned."

"But. .
.!"
John was staring. "
When
is this to be? I cannot just wait here, indefinitely."

"Where
you wait is immaterial, Sir John. But if your complaint is to proceed, you must make yourself available to this Council. You must perceive that?"

"But it will be weeks before you can hear from my father in London."

"Undoubtedly. I would say six weeks at the earliest. Then we shall have to consider the Duke's representations and decide whether to go further, and if so arrange another hearing. This must be apparent to all."

Helplessly John wagged his head. "But, my lord—I am in the King's service. I cannot linger here in Scotland, waiting, for up to two months. I have duties in London."

"I would suggest to this young man, my lord Chancellor, that he has apparently duties in Scotland also!" That was the Lord Erskine, pointedly. "He is, after all, Governor of the King's castle of Dumbarton. If Sir John cannot attend to both his London duties and his governorship, then surely he ought to resign one or the other!"

There was a general chorus of agreement.

"That would seem a reasonable observation," Dunfermline said judicially. "As—was it Extra Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Sir John? As Extra Gentleman, no doubt His Majesty will be able to do without your valuable services for a few weeks while you attend to the affairs of his royal fortress on the Clyde! Unless you wish to journey down to London and then, after a few days, turn round and come back again? The choice, I suppose, is yours."

There were smiles along the table.

Tight-lipped, John glanced at Alexander, but did not speak.

"Then, gentlemen, that is all that we can do this day. You have our permission to retire. No doubt, Sir John, Master Primrose will be able to communicate with you, at any time
...
at Dumbarton Castle?"

Bowing curtly, John led the way out.

He contained himself only long enough to be out of the Council rooms before bursting forth in indignation. It was a scandal—that is what it was! The entire proceedings a contrivance, a mummery and play-acting, all decided on beforehand. Carefully plotted to ensure his humiliation. No doubt by Erskine and his father, with the aid of the Drummonds. It was intolerable!

Will agreed, although Napier was silent. Clearly they would have John out of Dumbarton Castle if they could.

Why? Why? John demanded. It was not so great a plum! Or was it? Was there something about Dumbarton which he did not know? Which made it so desirable to the Erskines?

It could be no more than pride, family pride, Will suggested. If the Erskines had always considered Dumbarton theirs. After all, Erskine House was just across the river. Perhaps they considered that
all
the great royal fortresses should be in their hands—Stirling was theirs hereditarily and the Earl of Mar was Keeper of Edinburgh Castle. That, allied with the offence against John by Madderty and Erskine's other Drummond kinsmen? Or could it be money? Siller? Was it a more valuable appointment than John had realised? If they could find out how
much
revenue it produced they might get nearer an answer to the question! Obviously, the Duke his father was but a babe in all this. Probably he had never known the full possibilities of the appointment. But the Lord Treasurer would know! If the taxes came to him, Johnnie Mar, the King's foster-brother! What if Middlemas was no more than a catspaw? It would account for a lot.

John shook his head at that. He could not believe that it was thus—not corruption. By the Treasury, or the Erskines. They would not descend to that. But they might have been slack, remiss in their dealings with Middlemas, and be anxious not to have it uncovered. The Treasurership was no doubt profitable, but Dumbarton would be a very small part of it. What did Napier think?

Whatever the Sheriff-Depute thought, he did not give tongue to it. Evidently he had perceived the weight of authority ranged against the new Governor of Dumbarton and had no desire to seem to challenge it.

Back at Lady Mar's lodging, they discussed the immediate future. Alexander obviously could not remain in Scotland, hanging about for a couple of months; he had been away long enough as it was, even for the Prince's service. He would have to travel south very shortly. As for John, for him to journey with him and then almost immediately to turn around and ride all the way back again, would be not only absurd but probably playing into his enemies' hands— for they evidently expected him to be at Dumbarton in the interim, and, if he was not, it might be one more stick with which to beat him, a heedless and absent Governor. So he had better stay. Although what the King would say . . . ?

They decided that Will should go quickly, the very next day, so as to get to Whitehall before whoever the Council sent to interview the Duke. He should give Vicky a full account of the situation, warning him of what was involved and seeking his help and information, especially on this m
atter of the 3,000 merks commit
ment. He must know more than he had told John. As to the King, John would write a letter for Will to deliver, giving him all the paper-milling details and the news that shipping could start just as soon as prices were agreed with Cockayne. Perhaps if he told James that John's remaining in Scotland meantime, and supervising the first shipments, would help, it might soothe possible royal displeasure.

So next day the friends parted. John returned to Methven for another conference with his mother before making for Dumbarton.

It was inside a week when he arrived at the fortress on the Clyde, but even so he found that the Privy Council, or someone influential thereon, had acted swiftly indeed. Sandy Graham informed him that they had visitors, prisoners actually, who had arrived two days previously under guard —two clergymen of all things, parish ministers who had refused to accept the dictates of King James's new bishops and were now arrested and to be confined until they recognised the error of their ways. Sandy had had no idea what to do with them, but had installed them meantime in the Keeper's House, as his guests, waiting John's instructions.

Needless to say, John was astonished at this development. This could be no coincidence, surely. So what was behind it? He went to see the prisoners.

He found two very different reverend gentlemen. One, Master Andrew Duncan, grey, elderly and spare, silent and thoughtful; and Master Alexander Simson, much younger, plump and bustling. Neither gave the impression of being dangerous characters nor fanatic, in need of incarceration, and both seemed to be on excellent terms with Sandy Graham—who, of course, was himself a minister's son.

When John sought to discover the reason for their present fate at the hands of the Privy Council, the younger divine informed him cheerfully that they were in the hands of God, rather, and rejoicing to be used in His service. They were indeed of the elect, having been singled out by the obnoxious bishops to be set up as examples to warn other parish ministers who might refuse to accept the spiritual authority of the King's prelates. They were grieved to be taken away from their flocks, of course, but glad to be banner-bearers of the Lord. And conditions here at Dumbarton were good, much better than at Stirling Castle where they had come from.

The fact that they had been brought here from Stirling, where Erskine was Keeper, confirmed John's belief that this was in some way a move against himself. He offered the prisoners his sympathy, assured them that as far as possible they would be treated as guests rather than prisoners whilst in his care, and wondered whether they had been given any clue as to why they were sent to Dumbarton? They could not help in this, however, but blessed him and his deputy for their goodwill.

What, then, was the point in this transfer—for if Lord Erskine was behind it, some point there was, and scarcely to John's advantage. The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that there were very clever wits at work here. Why ministers, sent to him? There must be a sufficiency of other sorts available, if he was to be given prisoners to tend—felons, rebels, debtors. Surely, because the Presbyterian ministers were directly opposing the King's personal policy. This imposition of bishops on the Scots Church was James's own decision, his assertion that he was Christ's Vice-Regent, ruling by divine right, and therefore entitled to appoint leaders in the Church as well as in the realm. So—the objecting ministers, unlike other offenders, could be claimed to be acting directly against the monarch. This would be why they had been sent to Dumbarton, to be a bugbear and danger. If he treated them well, he was in danger of offending the King. If harshly, he would offend the Kirk and most God-fearing folk in Scotland. It looked like a very cunning device to drive a wedge between John and King
J
ames.

If this was so, it seemed as though there was a definite campaign to bring him low. John wondered whether it was worth being Governor of Dumbarton? Which was, no doubt, exactly what sundry highly-placed individuals wanted him to wonder!

At any rate, he did not allow his recognition of all this to prejudice his treatment of his two captives. They remained in the Keeper's House, with such comfort as it provided, took their meals with him and Sandy and had the freedom of all within the fortress walls. Indeed John became quite friendly with them, and spent many an evening discussing the problems created by the King's fondness for episcopacy, which hitherto he had little considered. He discovered that, though the office of bishop itself was frowned upon, their authority in the Kirk disputed and their right to sit in parliament deplored, it was liturgical worship which most grievously disturbed these two, especially what seemed to him the comparatively minor matters of kneeling at communion and private baptism. The King's success at the General Assembly of the Kirk over what had become known as the Five Articles of Perth, foreshadowed at the parliament John had attended, was to them a dire disaster, and treachery on the part of the majority of voting clerics. John found himself being manoeuvred into the awkward situation of using his alleged influence with the King to try to abate this episcopal madness. The two prisoners explained that they, and those who thought like them, were in fact loyal subjects of His Majesty, with no animus against him; but that the Church of Scotland would never accept bishops and prayer-book worship and the King should realise and acknowledge this for the sake of all concerned and the harmony of his ancient realm. John, insisting that his influence with James was of the slightest, especially in such matters as this, nevertheless could not refuse to mention the subject to the monarch in due course. He wondered whether the Erskines and Drummonds had anticipated something of the sort.

In the weeks that followed, John spent considerable time in the town and port with Sandy, investigating the revenue situation, trying to assess the approximate total sums collectable each year from the various sources. He found that the harbour customs represented much the greatest item, much greater than he had visualised, with Dumbarton the main seaport on the west side of Scotland. Since James had united the crowns, its trade had much increased, partly through the King's policy for the Scots development and colonisation of Ulster, and partly through some enhancement of trade with the Americas, especially in tobacco and rum. This latter, of course, was first channelled through English west-coast ports, for the English monopolists were jealous of their colonial rights; but there was considerable trans
-
shipment northwards thereafter, most of which came into Dumbarton—and the crown gained a second lot of import duties on the same goods. Moreover, much of the port itself was crown property, wharfs, warehouses and other offices, all built on royal land and paying substantial rents. Even the salmon fisheries at the mouth of the River Leven and along the Clyde shore were leased by the crown and brought in surprising sums. With rentals in the town on more crown property, and casualties of superiority due on a variety of privileges, even pilotage, all in all, apart from direct taxation, the annual total amounted, so far as they could gauge, to at least eighteen thousand merks, or over £12,000 Scots. Whatever proportion of this stuck to the fingers of the collectors, the Dumbarton governorship was obviously a far more valuable appointment than John had realised. The questions were: how much of all this did his father know? How much had Middlemas been retaining? And how much was going to the Treasury—or at least to the Lord Treasurer?