"Sir Patrick!" Margaret exclaimed. "Does this mean that Andrew is still to be kept out of his inheritance? And by a Jacobite exile! Remain as good as an outlaw? It is wicked! Shameful! After what he has done for William of Orange. What has Lord Melville done, to deserve what
he
has been given? Or this Dalrymple? Whilst Andrew is treated like a leper! Oh, it is beyond all belief! Why? Why?"
Home shrugged helplessly. "Lord Melville is a man of . . . compliance. He will do as he is told. Andrew is . . . otherwise, we all know. Has a mind of his own - and speaks it! Not always to his own best advantage," I fear. I presume that William has been warned that Andrew could be, shall we say, awkward? And so thinks to teach him a lesson."
"Yet I gained the impression that William was a fair and honest man," Andrew averred.
"No doubt. But princes and rulers act otherwise than ordinary men, whatever their qualities. They must needs do so, I suppose."
"I still say it is shameful!" Margaret insisted. "Can nothing be done? By Andrew's friends - not only by his enemies?"
"That is why I am here, Mrs. Fletcher. Andrew has the name of being a rebel, an able and honest man but a rebel against authority. So both the Jacobites and the Williamites look askance at him. Both fear that he could harm them. But, I.say that if he was to show that he means no harm to William's regime, now that it is settled lawfully, make
active
cause with it, then attitudes could change -
would
change, I am sure."
"You would have me to turn toady, Patrick? Lickspittle? That I shall never do."
"Nonsense, man - be not so quick! Nor so proud. You are ever too ready to take offence. What I propose would cost your devilish pride nothing! And could greatly help your state. And it would seem apt enough, likewise - for you it was who sought to reduce the standing army and introduce instead local militia companies. Well, your view is now accepted by those whom William trusts. In Scotland, at least. For one thing, there is little money to pay any standing army - James and his henchmen have squandered it all. Mackay's forces are being paid from London - which I think you will not like? So militia, raised by lords and lairds and even burghs, and paid only whilst they are on duty, would save much money, as well as constituting no threat to the population of the country, as does an idle army. But - you know all this - you advocated it all eloquently enough."
Cautiously Andrew nodded.
"And now the matter is urgent, the need great. Dundee has gathered a large clan army in the Highlands, ever growing, with many of the chiefs flocking to his banner. Mackay, chasing after him, prevented him from having his assembly at Stirling. And Mar, in Stirling Castle, wisely saw the way the wind blew and would not surrender to Craham. He went to his own house of Dudhope, at Dundee, to raise men from that city, and Balcarres, his lieutenant, went to raise Fife. Mackay sent cavalry after both, and they captured Balcarres at his own house; but Dundee escaped to the Highlands. Now he has raised James's standard in Lochaber. Keppoch, Glengarry, Locheil, Ardsheil, Glengyle and others of their like have flocked to him. He has marched eastwards from Glen Roy with over two thousand broad-swords and is raising more all the while. He says that James is sending over a force from Ireland, and that they will have Scotland out of William's hands before the summer is out. So - the thing is serious and there is no time to lose. Mackay has some fifteen hundred horse and will have twice that number of foot, when they arrive. That is all. Dundee could raise three times as many Hielantmen in a month."
Still Andrew made no comment.
"We therefore have little time to raise the necessary militia," Home went on. "And no money to hire regular troops from elsewhere. So we must act swiftly."
"However swiftly you act, Patrick, you will not
train
your new militia to face Highland broad-swords in a month or so."
"I know it. But if at least they can be mustered, armed and part-trained, they can be used to garrison cities, ports, castles and the like, releasing regular troops for Mackay. It is the best that I can do."
"You
can do . . . ?"
"Yes. I have been appointed, in William's name, commander of all Militia in Scotland."
"Good Lord!" Andrew stared, perhaps not very graciously. "But you, you .
..
?" He left the rest unsaid.
The other nodded. Home had fairly minimal military experience. "I know what you think. I myself questioned their choice. But we on William's side have few experienced soldiers. At least in Scotland. For long, all the soldiering has been done by Charles's and James's men. So - I come to you for help, Andrew."
His friend shook his head, unhappily. "Patrick, you cannot expect me to do this. To become a soldier again, for William w
ho has spurned me. Sakes, man - I
am an outlaw still! A felon, unpardoned . . ."
"Here is the way to change all that. Aid in this and you change your entire position. You were Master of Horse to Monmouth, a colonel against the Turks, one of William's staff. If any man could make this militia project succeed, it is you. And win your way back into William's favour, have all here beholden to you."
"No - I do not turn my coat so readily as that!"
"It is not turning your coat, man. You have always been against James and for William. It is but
proving
your loyalty."
"I could call it otherwise! Such as kissing the hand that struck me! No, I will not go soldiering for William while he sets his face against me."
"Then do it for the nation, for Scotland. You do not want James back, tyrannising over us?
You
would be one of the first to suffer."
"If it comes to that, I will draw my sword, yes. Not before."
"Andrew - could you not consider this?" Margaret asked, all but pleaded. "I do not want you to go fighting, God knows. But could you not go some way with it? Aid in the matter? Somehow you must improve your state . .."
"Yes, if you will not join me in arms, Andrew, at least help to raise the men, the Haddingtonshire militia. If you were commissioner for the shire, as you were and should be, you would be having to do this. Belhaven, your friend, has agreed to be its colonel."
"He has? But he has no experience as a soldier. Never drawn sword nor fired a shot!"
"No - but you could guide him. Help your country, help your friend - aye and help me also. For this is a heavy task laid on me. Who have little enough experience of war my own self. I have agreed to it, for the need is great. And my own position none too secure, with William. Now that he is King, I would be a fool to stand too much on my dignity."
"As do I?"
"I think that you might, man. And I say it as a friend."
"Do it, Andrew," Margaret urged. "For Henry and myself, also. Remember, we also suffer in all this."
He paced the floor for a turn or two. "Very well. I will aid, in some degree. In the raising and training of this county's militia. But only that. For your sake, and Johnnie's, more than for William's."
"Praise be for that, at least! It will greatly help. The common folk much respect you. Recruiting will gain by it. And training. And
...
it must help your own position. None can treat you as outlaw if you are working with the King's forces."
"The less said about that aspect of it, the better!"
"But I
say thank God!" Margaret exclaimed. "Somehow you have got to win back to your own place, Andrew. This could be the start of it. And not only for you but for all of us . . ."
* *
*
It took a little while for Andrew to adjust to his new situation, in more ways than one. Suddenly he found that he need no longer go furtively, watchful all the time, ready to make himself inconspicuous - and it had become more of a habit and frame-of-mind than he had realised. Large numbers of people had known of his presence in the country, inevitably; but the cautious had kept their distance. Now this all changed and folk were ready to greet him again, and not only in his militia activities. His reputation, exaggerated as he insisted out of all proportion, and which had hitherto marked him off as a most dangerous man, now worked the other way. He was now the sort of man the nation needed, an experienced officer and campaigner, in a cause sadly lacking in such, reputed to be of almost heroic stature. Since clearly he was working for King William, the new monarch's known displeasure could surely no longer apply. So he was safe to greet and accept.
Dramatic events on the national scene much contributed to this general attitude. The reconstituted Convention, now a full Parliament, was scarcely the source of excitement, proceedings being mainly formal and legalistic, however necessary for due constitutional launching of the new reign, all under the uninspired presidency of Lord Melville, as High Commissioner. But as the sittings went on, every other day brought tidings from the north to provide an ominous accompaniment to the proceedings. Dundee all the time was gaining in strength, quartering the Highlands from Lochaber to the Moray Firth, rousing the clans and gathering an ever-growing army, raising James's standard wherever he went and declaring that soon he would turn southwards and demonstrate who really ruled Scotland. General Mackay, although himself a Highlander, had no Highland troops, and, in that wild country, trailed far and ingloriously behind. The news from Ireland was consistently bad, with James's forces almost everywhere in the ascendant and Ulster hard-pressed. There were rumours that matters were looking so black that William himself was to go across to try to bring his father-in-law to account. All this produced a general state of agitation and apprehension in southern Scotland, in which rescuers and strong men were in great demand. Few were to be looked for in the Parliament, it seemed.
But mediocrity was not entirely on one side. In mid-June the Duke of Gordon surrendered Edinburgh Castle, on terms which allowed him and his garrison to march off unimpeded to his northern fastnesses - and the capital celebrated the non-event as though it was a mighty victory.
It was in these conditi
ons that Andrew and Johnnie Bel
haven, with Cockburn of
Ormiston, went about Haddington
shire recruiting, enrolling officers, mustering, training, commandeering arms and horses. They had little difficulty in finding men, and even horses, but arms and ammunition were a different story and adequate training scarcely possible. Inevitably the responsibility for this came to rest mainly on Andrew's shoulders, as the only man available with any real idea of what was required. He found it a frustrating business, demanding of a patience he did not possess. Yet at least it kept him fully occupied and feeling necessary, a state he had not been in for long. He made better company at the dower-house of West Saltoun in consequence.
Six weeks or so of this and there were further developments. Sir Patrick Home arrived, to announce that the maximum number of militiamen must proceed northwards at once, however inadequately-trained, to join General Mackay in south Perthshire. When Andrew protested that it was as good as sending lambs to the slaughter, Home declared that he could not help it. He had his orders. Dundee was indeed marching southwards with a very large force of some of the toughest fighting-men in Christen
dom, MacDonalds, Camerons, Fras
ers, Macleans, Mackintoshes and the like, to join the Murrays of Atholl and Tullibardine, the Hays, the Drummonds and other Perthshire clans. Somehow they must be halted, and Mackay needed every man, however ill-prepared. It would be a tough baptism for the new militia, but they had no choice.
So two days later Andrew watched Johnnie and his other equally callow officers ride off to war at the head of an enthusiastic but painfully green squadron of the Haddingtonshire Militia, with foreboding and self-recrimination. They ought not to be going - but since they must,
he
ought to have been going with them, he who had persuaded many of them to join, who had taken much responsibility for their training, who at least knew something about warfare. It had been easy to say that he would not draw sword for William; and wise judgment agreed with Home that he would be better employed anyway in training more men. Nevertheless . . .
If Andrew had been less than enthusiastic about his military labours hitherto, now he threw himself into the work with a new determination and vigour, driving himself and his recruits hard. Reinforcements for the squadron would be forthcoming, and the best-trained of any of the new part-time soldiers.
In the event it was all unnecessary. On 29th July, Scotland was shaken by the news that two days previously there had been a great battle in Atholl, at the Pass of Killiecrankie - and, brilliantly handled, the Jacobite forces had won, Mackay outmanoeuvred. But in the hour of his victory, John Graham had been killed, slain by a musket-ball penetrating below his upraised sword-arm. Bonnie Dundee or Bloody Clavers was dead. And the Highland army, shattered by the loss of their renowned leader, and with no obvious successor, Balcarres still being a captive, threw away the fruits of victory in typical inter-clan rivalry, quarrelling over the booty of Mackay's captured baggage-train and then dispersing back to their glens. The beaten Mackay fled back to Stirling, to lick his wounds -then discovered, hardly able to believe his good fortune, that he was left with command of the field. The immediate danger to King William's regime was over.
At Saltoun they heard the news with mixed feelings, relief yes but regret also. John Graham had not been an easy man to associate with or to know well, something of an enigma, admirable and sinister, courageous and ruthless, good and evil - but then were not all men so, in lesser degree? But at least he was a
man,
of a stature rare at any time and notably so in the Scotland of the second half of the seventeenth century.