To the problem of money, however, in late November, he unexpectedly was presented with a partial solution. He had crossed out of Spain into the independent little mountain principality of Andorra, where at its capital town he discovered, of all things, that the chief treasurer of the little state, indeed the banker to the ruling Prince-Bishop, was a Scotsman from Edinburgh, married to an Andorran wife. This individual, John Kerr by name, was in effect almost the real ruler of the place and its five thousand inhabitants, for the Prince-Bishop, being Spanish and holding also the Spanish bishopric of Urgel, only occasionally visited the principality and the Council consisted almost entirely of unlettered peasants. Kerr was responsible for developing tobacco-growing in a big way on the lower mountain-slopes which seemed to be most suitable for the crop, and this was proving a highly
E
rofitable industry, for the smoking of the weed was now eing accepted as providing immunity from the plague. So he had become very rich himself, as well as enriching his patron and indeed the peasantry. Kerr was delighted to meet Andrew, for no other Scot had ever come visiting Andorra in his time; and like all his compatriots in voluntary exile, he loved Scotland the more for being far from it - though without any real intention of returning there. And he knew Haddingtonshire and Saltoun Hall, his father having been a goldsmith and clockmaker in Edinburgh, and in fact having made a special chiming-clock for Sir Robert Fletcher on one occasion, Kerr recollected. A good Protestant at heart, although nominally a Catholic here serving a Catholic bishop, he was agog to hear all that Andrew could tell him about the state of affairs both in Scotland and England - despite being comparatively well-informed already it was clear, as, a banker in a small independent state on the verges of Spain and France, he had to be.
The great advantage to Andrew was, of course, that John Kerr was well aware of the richness of the Saltoun estate and therefore of his visitor's credit. And, being in the money business anyway, he was able to advance cash upon a bill of credit on the bank in Amsterdam which the Scots exiles made use of for their sustenance and where Andrew's substance was known and respected. So meantime the traveller's financial difficulties were over.
Andrew stayed with Kerr and his handsome and hospitable wife until well after the Christmas season, at their urgent invitation, whilst the Amsterdam arrangements were being finalised, these taking a considerable time naturally; so that the two exiles were able to bring in the New Year of 1687 in suitable Scots style.
When all the credit facilities were at length completed, Andrew was almost loth to move on. But his presence here would become known in time. Also there would, he expected, be moneys awaiting him at Rome, which must be seen to. And his readings in the monasteries had further whetted his desire to visit Greece, the very cradle of democracy and responsible government. Now, at least, he would be able to head for there in more normal style.
He left his burro at Andorra la Vieja, bought two horses, hired a young Andorran as groom and attendant, and said farewell to the Kerrs - this in February 1687.
He had heard of no hint of any hue-and-cry on his account.
10
Almost exactly a year later, Andrew found himself back in the Stadtholder's palace of The Bosch at The Hague, with Gilbert Burnet, something he could scarcely have foreseen, especially as he had arrived from Hungary of all places. Not that his arrival here was really remarkable; English, Scots and Irish exiles were indeed flocking to Holland again from all points of the compass, drawn as by a magnet, many of them directly from England itself. The reason was simple in the extreme. King James was making life unbearable for all save Roman Catholics, and even for the more democratically-minded and freedom-loving of these. Protestant England was on the verge of revolt and everywhere eyes were turning hopefully towards Holland and its Stadtholder, Prince William of Orange, the Protestant's champion, and his wife, James's elder daughter, who was heir to the throne and herself strongly Protestant. William was a warrior-prince who had even managed to hold up the victorious march of Louis the Fourteenth of France. Surely he must now come to the rescue of Protestant England, not to mention Scotland.
James Stewart, that obstinate, humorless, pious man, had the bit between his teeth with a vengeance, as lacking in judgment as was "his ill-fated father Charles the First but lacking that noble-seeming monarch's personal charisma. He had no least notion of compromise nor seeking to gain his ends gradually, but was determined, to put back the clock and make his kingdoms wholly Romish without delay. He had, in fact, applied to the Pope for England - Scotland was not mentioned - to be re-admitted officially to the Vatican hegemony, after a century and a half of Protestantism. He attended Mass in all the official trappings of kingship. He put Catholics in power everywhere - and when the Church of England bishops protested, he arrested seven of them, including the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, and clapped them into the Tower to await trial for treason. Not only this, but he was now ruling as an absolute monarch, ignoring his parliaments and levying taxes, and customs and excise, without the authority of the legislatures - and when the House of Commons refused to advance him personal revenues, accepting a pension from Louis of France. His toadies arid boot-lickers controlled and mismanaged all, the unutterable Judge Jeffreys now Lord High Chancellor of England and hanging all who stood in the King's way.
So appeals went out from all quarters, high and low, to William and Mary at The Hague — come and save us! And, from The Hague itself, appeals went out all over Christendom - come to Holland, all Protestants and lovers of freedom and justice, to aid in the great task of liberation.
This message had reached Andrew Fletcher, from Gilbert Burnet and Sir Patrick Home - whom it seemed was safely back in Holland - by means of the credit-forwarding arrangements through the Amsterdam bank. That Andrew should have been fighting the Turks in Hungary, under the Catholic Duke Charles of Lorraine, was, for that matter, a strange development in itself. He had never got to Greece. At Rome, collecting his money sent direct from Scotland, he had found something of a crusading atmosphere prevailing, with young men of spirit enrolling on all hands to go help drive the Infidel Turkish invaders out of Hungary. Although this was basically an Imperial and Catholic endeavour, Andrew, like many other young Protestants, saw nothing incongruous in answering the Emperor's urgent call, backed by the Pope in Rome. It caught him at a time when he was tiring, just a little, of drifting through Europe as a sort of interested but uninvolved spectator. His was a vehement and enthusiastic nature which was apt to demand action. Moreover, he still had a sense of guilt over the death of Heywood Dare, and taking part in this joint Christian endeavour might help a little as penance, against the common enemy of Christendom. So he had postponed Greece meantime - where, of course, the Turks were in force also - and gone to lend his sword, along with many others, to Duke Charles of Lorraine, the Imperial commander-in-chief, in this latter-day crusade. And in Hungary he had in fact distinguished himself, fighting in two set battles, including the great victory of Mohacs, in August, and in many skirmishes. He had actually enjoyed the experience, single-minded, having no doubts as to the rightness of his cause for once, and finding soldiering to his taste. Indeed, after Mohacs, he had been singled out for promotion, by Duke Charles, to a colonelcy of horse, when Gilbert Burnet's letter reached him, urging this alternative crusade to restore the Reformed Faith and democratic government to his own land and to England. Patrick Home's rider, to the effect that it was time that Andrew did something positive to protect his own interests, also made its impact - for he informed that when he had escaped from Scotland, although Henry Fletcher had been released from Haddington Tolbooth, the government had held another trial of Andrew himself, in absentia. This time not only had he been found guilty of further treason over the Monmouth business but had his name declared infamous, to be blotted out of all records as though he had never existed, a price put on his head, and his estates forfeited and given to the Earl of Dumbarton, one of King James's Scots minions - and, oddly enough,
brother to the Duke of Hamilton. This last, of course, meant a drying-up of Andrew's source of revenue, and Amsterdam could no longer honour his bills of credit.
So, what with one thing and another, the new colonel took his leave of the Imperial army and made his way back to Holland whilst funds lasted.
He found the quite small area between The Hague, Utrecht, Amsterdam and Rotterdam, no larger than many a Scots county, a hive of excitement, intrigue, rumour and plotting again. Thousands of refugees, exiles and adventurers of many nationalities had flocked thither from near and far, by no means all of them reputable or even nominally Protestant. All talk was of an imminent invasion of England, although details and planning were notably absent. Fire-eaters and soldiers of fortune were in the ascendant, even Plotter Ferguson was back and active as ever, having somehow escaped in the Monmouth debacle. Andrew, distinctly disenchanted, tended to see it all as something of a rerun of former follies.
There was a difference, however. William of Orange was not the Duke of Monmouth. He was substantial, ruler of a rich country with a standing army and the most powerful navy in Christendom. Moreover his wife was undoubted next-in-line to the United Kingdom throne. And he was a cautious man, not be to be rushed, despite the clamour of the exiles. As important, the appeals for action from England were now a flood, and coming from high quarters as well as low, with promises of armed support and money. This invasion, when it came, would surely have little similarity to the last.
With such great influx of strangers, accommodation was hard to find and expensive - and now, after an interview with the Amsterdam bankers, Andrew found himself all but penniless again, and was forced to sell some of his precious acquisitions from the Spanish monasteries to rich Hollanders. But Dr. Burnet, now acting as chaplain and adviser to William and Mary, had actually become a naturalised Hollander to avoid the demands of King James that he should be sent home to stand trial, still had his quarters in a rear wing of the royal palace and insisted that Andrew lodge with him, declaring that the Stadtholder approved. Indeed, it seemed, William desired speech with the visitor, information as to the Hungarian situation and other matters. Andrew's fame seemed to have burgeoned in extraordinary fashion, to his own discomfort, his general reputation having become a notably muddled combination of wily politician, brilliant soldier, escaper, dashing adventurer and dangerous man to controvert, especially when armed with a pistol.
He had his interview with the Prince one evening in mid-March, a private audience, with the Princess Mary also present and only Gilbert Burnet in attendance. William, now thirty-eight, was a short stocky man, not handsome but with strong features, heavy brows and a notably hooked nose, features which could seem formidable but which also could on occasion light up with sudden bursts of humour, even gaiety. Although generally solemn, as became one bred a strict Calvinist, he had a sort of slow affability and was not proud in manner unless provoked. Andrew was very much aware of a pair of hooded and particularly shrewd eyes. This was the man whose life John Graham was reputed to have saved.
"So - the celebrated Mr. Fletcher!" he was greeted, in fluent but heavily-accented English. "We have heard much of you. But Dr. Burnet assures us that you are less fearsome than you are painted!".
Andrew bowed. He did not know whether to bow first to the Princess, as heiress to his own country's throne, or to the speaker as reigning prince here, so he aimed his genuflexion approximately between the two.
"I am honoured that Your Royal Highnesses receive me," he said. "And grieve over my reputation. But I hope to learn by my mistakes."
"Well said, sir - well said!" William approved. "We all should do that."
"You have suffered much, Mr. Fletcher, for your . . . convictions," Mary said. She was a plump, dark woman with no pretensions to beauty but with the large lustrous Stewart eyes to relieve a rather sad expression. Married for eleven years and still childless, and permanently at grievous odds with her father, she no doubt had reason for sadness.
"Less than many, Highness - who have paid with their lives."
"True. Let us hope that not many more need do so. That the time of freedom and betterment is near."
Burnet had said that the Princess was more keen on the invasion venture than was her husband.
"How goes the warfare against the Turk, Mr. Fletcher?" William asked. "Is he being pushed back. We hear little."
"Yes, sir. On the whole it goes well, since Mohacs. I believe that the Infidels will be thrown back to their own land during the coming campaigning season. The Duke of Lorraine now marches on Slavonia and hopes to win Belgrade before winter slows his advance. This summer should be the vital one."
"Then let us pray that it is equally so for ourselves!" Mary exclaimed. "For England. And Scotland also, to be sure."
"H'mm." Her husband paced to and fro before the great log fire of the private library. "We must be sure, my dear, that the time is ripe and that we are fully prepared, before we make any moves," he reminded; "With your nephew's rash attempt before us as warning."
"Yes, yes, William. But all is now changed from then. Is it not, Mr. Fletcher? Could the time be more ripe, indeed? With England straining to revolt. Seven bishops in the Tower - even Canterbury himself. I hope that you are going to aid us in our great endeavour, sir? As you aided poor Monmouth. And the Hungarians."
Andrew glanced at the Prince. "My aid, Highness, would be of but little value, I fear. His Highness has military leaders by the score to call upon, so much more able and experienced than am I. And I am but a poor man now, my estates confiscated. Forby, my first concern must be with Scotland . . ."
"Ah, yes, my friend," the Prince cut in. "And it is about Scotland that I wish to consult you. And not as a soldier. I know that you have not seen Scotland these last years, but Dr. Burnet assures me that you know your countrymen better than most, and the temper of the people. Tell me - how would the Scots people look upon a Hollander replacing their king?"
"A Hollander with a Stewart wife!" the Princess added.
Andrew hesitated, as well he might. Of all peoples the Scots were perhaps the most clan-conscious, concerned with genealogy, blood-lines, descent. Their ancient monarchy was the oldest in Christendom, and although the Stewarts were a far cry from the original Celtic/Pictish kings, they had the blood, through Bruce and his non-Norman ancestors. But - a Dutchman!
"I cannot declare, Highness, that such would be their choice - had they a choice," he said carefully. "But. . . your royal lady, here, would be welcomed, to be sure."
"Are you saying, sir, that my wife only should claim the crown? The Scottish crown. To become Queen of Scots? And myself only a consort, a, a dependency! That I would never consider."
When Andrew made no comment, Gilbert Burnet spoke. "Your Royal Highnesses, if I may be so bold? The Scots may not seek a monarch not himself of the ancient line. But since there is no other lawful Stewart heir save King James's two daughters - as yet - they would, I believe, wish to have the elder lady and her husband as monarchs, joint monarchs. Especially when that husband is the most noted Protestant prince. Also a renowned warrior - always important with my countrymen. I believe that they would welcome such solution. And, h'mm, hope for offspring."
There was a silence at that last rider.
"Is that possible in the Scots monarchy?" William asked. "A joint wearing of the crown?"
"My great-great-grandsire did so," Mary said. "Henry, Lord Darnley, married Mary the Queen and became King. To be sure, he himself was a Stewart."
"That was the Crown Matrimonial, Highness," Andrew ventured. "Slightly different, if I may say so. In the gift of the Queen Regnant. Henry Stewart was not full monarch. Could not reign of himself. Had he been alive when Queen Mary abdicated, he could not have been King in her place. That was their son, James the Sixth."
"I would not be prepared to be such a puppet!" the Prince said. "It must be better than that."
"There is another possibility," Andrew went on, slowly. "Take the precedent o
f your own nephew, Highness - the Duke of Monmouth. He was created that, in England. But in Scotland he married the Countess of Buccleuch, in her own right, and they were created Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth. And that was accepted as lawful, in Scots custom. A joint dukedom. He was not Duke-Consort of Buccleuch, or in his wife's right. If it was lawful for a dukedom it could be lawful for a kingdom." Even as he spoke, it flashed across the speaker's mind that in fact, if Monmouth's claim to possession of Lucy Walter's marriage-lines was truth, then there was an alternative Stewart heir-to-the-throne, a Protestant and male heir, the young Earl of Dalkeith, son of the Buccleuchs. Andrew forbore to voice this thought however.
"Ha!" William said. "This sounds more hopeful. I had forgotten the Buccleuch dukedom."
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