Gavin sat back in his seat. ‘Sorry Kelvin, this sounds preposterous. I can’t believe a thousand-year old document still possesses that kind of clout?’
Kelvin paused to take a sip of his beer. ‘Let’s go back to the time of the last truly Scottish King, James the first of Scotland who in 1603, in the Union of the Crowns Act, became James sixth of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. When King James, in a mad rush to escape the plague that was ravaging Edinburgh moved his court to London where all the action was, unfortunately in the panic, his legal advisers hadn’t sufficient time to tidy up the legal stuff. The scroll, is the “The Rights of Kings Charter”. What is pertinent is that it got overlooked. It would have taken an act of parliament to annul the law and thereby end the power of any future Scottish King. Because that never happened, and because only a Scottish King can sign it’s annulment, it remains in force.’ The charter is all the authority any Scottish King needs to rule the country in whatever way he sees fit. He could, sack parliament and even issue dictates that under the existing constitutional arrangement would have to be enforced by the authorities, such as the police and the judicial system. Simply put Gavin, without referring to Parliament or to anyone else, as the King of Scotland, you are free to pass new laws, change existing laws, suspend parliament, remove people from office, and maybe have one or two executed. In effect, you already possess despotic powers.
‘Tell me you are joking Kelvin.’
‘I am being deadly serious.’
Gavin’s head was full of questions. ‘This person in the SG’s office…’
‘Nathaniel Gough.’ Boyd reminded the King.
‘This Nathaniel Gough,’ Gavin said. ‘Can you arrange for us to meet up. I must speak to him.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because when he joined the Solicitor General’s Office, he signed the Official Secrets act. He could go to prison. He told me that he was going away, maybe abroad.’
Gavin was now thinking the first thing he needed to do was have the scroll checked out. It then occurred to him that he might not be the only one in grave danger. So too would Fiona and his Mother. The more people who knew about the scroll, the greater the risks. Gavin probed Boyd.
‘Who else knows about the scroll?’
‘Just the three of us, me, and you, and Gough,’ Kelvin said. ‘His boss thinks it was destroyed, although he may conceivably have told Mary Dewar? She would have been the only other person he might have told about it, and possibly, her Minster for Internal Affairs?’
‘Cruid?’ Gavin said, almost scowling.
‘That’s the one.’ Kelvin said.
‘So, what do you imagine she might do, if she knew about it, Mary Dewar I mean?’
Kelvin drained his beer glass. ‘My guess is she now knows about it. The SG would have told her. If I were her, I would want to talk to you and insist that you sign a bill to rescind those powers.’
‘She doesn’t know about it.’ Gavin said flatly.
Now it was Kelvin’s turn to act shocked. ‘What! How do you know that?’
‘Because earlier today, she and Cruid admitted they tried to trick me into signing a bill that would have ended the need for Royal assent. She told me that as soon as they could, they always planned to get rid of me. When I told her that I was not going to sign the bill, she then offered me a great deal of money to abdicate. I don’t think she’d have done that had she been told about the scroll?’
‘Really! She offered you cash to go? So, what you going to do? Are you taking the money? You going to abdicate?’
‘God no!’ Gavin said shocked at the suggestion.
‘You should you know. Get the hell away. Burn the damn thing before it gets someone killed.’
Gavin sat back in his chair and studied the News Reporter. ‘And what if I told her to go take a running jump?’
Kelvin’s eyes widened. ‘Then that would put your life in grave danger.’ Gravely he said.
‘You should agree to repeal this law and then abdicate. There’s no shame in you taking the money.’
With unseeing eyes Gavin was looking out the window. ‘I cant do that Kelvin. That’d be like taking the coward’s way out. When I came up here I genuinely wanted do some really valuable work. Then when I found out that all they wanted me to do was to sign off endless bills and perhaps get out to open a few fetes, I was starting to think that I had made a big mistake becoming Scotland’s king. And now… if this scroll checks out, I am thinking that perhaps I should stay and help the people of Scotland pull through these dangerous times.’
Kelvin leaned forward and fixed Gavin with a cold stare. ‘Gavin, you don’t want to make an enemy of Mary Dewar.’ The warning was stark.
‘Kelvin, I take on board what you say but you need to listen to me. I have been up here almost two months now and almost every day, I have had to witness the damage the British government is doing to the Scottish economy. Left in the hands of Mary Dewar, I can see things only getting worse.’ Gavin was getting mad now. ‘I shall not turn my back on the people of Scotland. Do you think my ancestor, Robert the Bruce, would have sold the Scottish throne for money?’
‘Ok, ok, I hear what you are saying Gavin.’ Kelvin held up his hands. ‘Let’s say you did stay up here, and let’s say you started to exercise your powers, what would you hope to achieve?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Yes, I want to know,’ Kelvin said.
Gavin smiled. ‘I have a list.’
‘You have a list!’ Kelvin said shocked. ‘Why am I surprised? So, go on tell me.’
‘I would start by nationalising the banks and then the railways and then the utility companies. I would close down the payday loan companies. I would make government loans available at one per cent over base interest rates, I would take into public ownership the land that property developers are sitting on to force up land prices and then…’
‘Whoah!’ Kelvin said. ‘Listen to yourself. Can you imagine what the shareholders– the fat cats that run these massive companies might do to prevent that happening? Can you not see how these grand ideas of yours would put your life in danger?’
‘Yes, I can see that, but if I do have these… these… powers, I feel duty-bound to use them. If this means that I need have to take on people like Mary Dewar, then so be it. .’ Gavin paused. ‘Kelvin, you need to understand, I have come to love Scotland and its people. I feel in my blood it is in my destiny to stay. Did you ever see the film Braveheart?’
‘Braveheart! Oh God! Gavin, what are you thinking,’ Kelvin can hardly believe the man was contemplating using these powers. ‘Gavin, this is not a movie. There are no stunt doubles taking the risks. It’ll be you in the firing line.’
‘Kelvin, I have a question,’ Gavin said ignoring the newsman’s warnings. ‘Suppose for example that I wanted to implement some of the laws that I just spoke of? Say that I wanted to draft a law that brought the banks into line. How would I go about that?’
Kelvin could see he was wasting his breath trying to talk Gavin into abdicating. The man is mule-headed.
‘First off, you will need to have the scroll verified.’
‘I figured that. And how do I go about doing that?’
‘That wont be a problem. The Antiquities Department of Strathclyde University, the same people who helped trace you through your DNA, will be able to attest to its authenticity. The scroll is undoubtedly genuine.’
‘Ok,’ Gavin said. ‘That’s in Glasgow yeah?’ The question was rhetorical. ‘That’s my first port of call then. Say, I do that, and the scroll turns out to be genuine. Then what?’
Kelvin shrugged. ‘To pass a law would simply require you to announce it as a dictate. And then once it is recorded, you then sign it and that’s it… it becomes law.’
‘And how does it get enforced, or should I say, who would be responsible for enforcing it?’
‘That would be the same people that enforce the existing
laws.’ Kelvin said: ‘the Police, the Procurator Fiscal Officers and the Solicitor General. All of these public bodies would have no choice but to enforce any dictates you made.’
‘Jeez! And I could really do that?’
‘Yes, but before you run off with the idea of becoming a dictator you need to realise that some very powerful people, not just those in Scotland but in the UK and overseas too, will either force you to abdicate, or they will coerce you into passing a law that will end the Scottish Monarch’s powers. If you attempted to do any of those things on your list… well I am labouring the point here, but, you would be placing your life in grave danger.’
Gavin, chewing his bottom lip was deep in thought. ‘This is… difficult to take in Kelvin.’
‘I know, and if the Scottish government hadn’t been in such a hurry to proclaim UDI they might have first checked the Royal Assent law. Gavin, you need to understand, a monarch, either dies while on the throne, or they abdicate. You now face that stark choice. Which is it to be?’
‘Well I am not planning on dying or abdicating.’ Gavin stated bluntly thereby making the discovery that he was staying, which was news to him! If that is the case, and you do plan on staying on, he was thinking, you had better get your head on straight because this is no longer about you having fanciful ideas of becoming a folk hero, fighting for the cause of the common-man… this is serious stuff. If you do want to bring in these populist laws you had better do it right.
‘You are sure of your facts Kelvin?’
‘Yes I’m sure of my facts,’ Kelvin said. ‘You can do all of those things on your bucket list but for goodness sake, you need to think seriously about the consequences. These changes that you talk about might be popular among the masses, but think for a minute about the people that you would unseat… take down. These people are ruthless Gavin. Which why, if you take my advice, you will destroy the scroll, take Dewar’s money and abdicate. Go home Gavin. Have a chat with your wife. Then go back to Marbury. Back to the safe, predictable life you once had.’
Gavin went quiet, carried on looking out the window but staying with the thoughts racing around inside his head. The whole point of him coming up to Scotland was to be a King in the fullest sense. He wanted to make a difference. (Fiona hates him using that trainer-speak terminology) He was thinking. So, what do I do? Do I stay on as King Robert and ruffle a few feathers, or do we pack up and go back to Essex? From someplace at the back of his mind surfaced memories of him being bullied at school. Around the age of twelve, he became a bit overweight, he was hopeless at football… all sports in fact and was considered by his peers as a bit of a nerd. This got him singled out. How was this situation any different? As a kid he never fought back. Well he’s no longer that snivelling schoolboy, he is the King of Scotland and anyone tries to give him a Chinese burn had better watch out. Gavin felt his chest swell. A sense of omnipotence overwhelms him. Screw them. I’m staying. I might even approach Her Majesty for a bit of advice? In any case, we can’t go back to Marbury. My job has gone and the house will have been rented out on a six-months lease.
‘I’ll get us another beer.’ Gavin said suddenly getting to his feet.
‘No, let me get them.’ Kelvin said.
Grabbing up the empties Gavin said. ‘Same again, I take it?’
Threading his way through the tables Gavin headed over to the bar where he squeezed into a tight space between people queuing to be served. The young girl who pulled his pints had gone to a great deal of trouble to disfigure her face with metal studs. On her forehead was a tattoo of a skull and the words “Brain Dead”. Her hair was purple and green and shaved on one side. Gavin was alert now to anyone nearby. Suddenly everyone, even the Oriental tourists were a threat. He paid for the beers, thanked the girl and made his way back to their table. Kelvin had gone, really gone, not to the toilets or to a quieter table the guy had gone. Feeling the scroll tucked under his arm, Gavin put the two glasses of beer down on the table and then left the pub.
Rattled by Boyd’s sudden vanishing act, and being jostled by the crowds on Lawnmarket, Gavin wanted to go someplace where he could take a peek inside the tube hidden inside his coat. Nervous now, after Kelvin’s dire warnings about the danger anyone in possession of the scroll would be in, he looked about him to see if he was being followed. He ducked inside a souvenir shop and on the pretence of looking at a rack picture postcards, Gavin was checking out the street through the window. When he saw no one of particular interest, he concluded he wasn’t being followed. He gave it a few minutes and then left the shop. Hurrying now, Gavin made his way across South Bridge and through the gates of Princes Park. A light drizzle that judging by the brooding sky, threated to become a storm any minute, had emptied the park of other people. He sat on a vacant bench and after making sure no one could see him, in the shelter of a Yew tree, he pulled off the stiff leather cap and then using one finger and a thumb he teased out a velum scroll. Tied around it was a faded crimson ribbon. He guessed that in order to read it Gough must have unrolled it, so, as carefully as he could he unrolled it on his thighs. Its suppleness surprised him. The Celtic script written with a quill pen had been expertly done. Not so, the column of blobby signatures on the right hand side, twelve in all, he counted, that continued down to the red sealing wax that had the imprint of the seated King Alexander II, holding an orb and a sword.
The script made no sense to him. He hopes the experts in Strathclyde University could help out in that regard. Gavin retied the ribbon and then slid the scroll back inside the tube and then tucked it back inside his jacket. With his head full of ideas all of which by association carried a variety of escalating risks, he headed back to Holyrood.
Back at the Palace, passing through the staff entrance, Gavin acknowledged the nod from one of the armed cops. He then made his way down the staff-only gravel path that ran behind the Abbey Ruins. Looking back over his shoulder and seeing no one, Gavin slipped inside the back door that led down to the basement where Henry Pyke occupied three small rooms. He couldn’t imagine someone like Henry Pyke, ending his days in a few basement rooms. Gavin assumed that Henry must have somewhere else that he owned. Possibly a smart terraced house over on the much sought after streets around Circus Lane.
Gavin, having been down here a couple of times knew his way around a little. Henry had explained to him how in the 1600’s, when James I of Scotland lived in Edinburgh, these empty rooms off of a warren of dark corridors were once storerooms used by the Palace Kitchen staff. That was when Holyrood house used to be a working palace. He was looking for somewhere to hide the scroll. He checked out half a dozen rooms all unsuited to his purpose. In a room where unhelpfully the light bulb didn’t work, he waited until his eyes became accustomed to the dark. Out of the gloom, over in the far corner he saw what looked like a room within a room. On closer inspection, getting excited now, he saw that it was a walk-in safe. It was a good ten feet by ten feet cube of solid steel with two brass key escutcheons and a brass wheel and a nameplate that said it was made in London. The first surprise was when the wheel spun easily in a counter-clockwise direction. The second surprise was when he leaned back pulling on the door and it opened. Being left unlocked, it didn’t surprise him to learn that it no longer housed the Palace silver. Stepping inside the safe he inspected the row of dust-covered shelves on the left hand wall. Thirty or more, steel pigeonhole boxes about a foot square mainly occupied the right hand wall. Each of these had a key in the lock. Some of the doors were ajar. Starting with the boxes nearest to him, he looked inside each one and found nothing but dust and dead flies. In the last box, the one nearest the steel ceiling, he got another surprise. Reaching in, he took out a pair of steel keys that were on an iron ring. The size and complexity of the keys could mean only one thing. They had to be the keys to the safe door… he hoped! Gavin went back outside and tried them. He sighed when the tumblers in the lock turned effortlessly. Going back inside the safe, he placed the scroll in the box where he had found th
e key and then locked the little door. Stepping out of the safe he locked the door behind him and put the keys in his trouser pocket. Brushing his hands down his clothes and then dusting off his hands he was grinning when he went back upstairs.
Back inside his apartment there was no one home. Fiona, he imagined was still out shopping with Penny. His mother, who had really immersed herself in the stories of ghosts up, here, which he didn’t approve of, but it kept her from complaining, was probably on a ghost hunt. He made himself a coffee and then carried it through to his study to wait for his computer to boot up. He Googled Strathclyde University Archaeology Department and then clicked on the web page for the Antiquities Department. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that Strathclyde Archaeology Department was housed in an annexe right here in Edinburgh. The woman in charge was Professor Hilary Chambers. He called up her direct line number.
Hilary, when she learned that the caller was none other than the King that she helped put on the Scottish throne was astonished. This surprise was nothing compared to him telling her about the scroll, its existence she had long suspected. She made the King promise that he would stay where he was, at the Palace, and he was to keep the scroll safe until she could come over to the Palace and inspect it.
‘I want you to take it off my hands,’ Gavin told her down in the basement, while Hilary inspected the scroll under the yellow fluorescent lights. ‘I want it verified and then I want it published. Can you do that?’
Professor Chambers, immediately saw the problem. With this scroll, this man had the power to challenge Scottish democracy. He could if he wished dismiss the government and then impose his own rule. However, it wasn’t her concern what the King chose to do, her immediate concern was to have other academics verify her own findings. Of greater concern was the news that it was supposed to have been burned. Such a thing would have been a tragic loss of Scotland’s historic past. She promised him that she’d get back to him with confirmation of the scrolls authenticity within hours. She would then have the scroll duplicated and have the original locked away, somewhere secret and somewhere safe.