‘Is such a rush to judgment allowed by the law?’

  ‘The court sets its own rules; it will be for the judge to confirm the trial date. Counsel for Mr McGill may request more time to prepare his case, but it will be at the discretion of the Bench. Do not look, however, for that discretion to be exercised. Lord Bellhouse is trying the case, the Lord Justice Clerk himself, and he is the least patient of our judges. He is also well acquainted with the Lord Advocate; when James Douglas was a pupil advocate, and Bellhouse was King’s Counsel, he was his devilmaster.’

  ‘Are we helpless in this?’ Mathew asked.

  ‘Not entirely. There are a few senior counsel that Bellhouse would not cross, men who might soon be candidates for the Bench themselves. Cooper, the Lord Justice General, is an old man. When he goes, his successor is uncertain, but it is unlikely to be Bellhouse, on account of his own years.’

  ‘Then find us one of these men to take David’s case.’

  ‘That is where we go now. We are heading for the Faculty of Advocates; its members are the only men with rights of audience in the Supreme Courts. ’

  The solicitor led them to a door across the hall, and opened it, allowing his clients to step into a rectangular area. It was not much of a room, more of an ante-chamber, with a stair to the right leading to lower levels of the building. In its centre a man in an ornate but predominantly black uniform sat at a desk.

  ‘Mr Johnston,’ he exclaimed. ‘And what is it today, sir?’

  ‘Senior counsel, Mr Baird, for a most urgent case,’ he replied, then turned and whispered to his companions. ‘Mr Magnus Baird is clerk to the advocates,’ he explained. ‘He keeps their diaries.’

  ‘Do you have anyone specific in mind, sir?’ Baird asked. There was something in his tone for which Mathew did not care, a hint of mockery, perhaps.

  ‘Sir Basil Foster, KC.’

  The clerk choked off a gasp. ‘Sir Basil? Surely, Mr Johnston, he’s a cut above your usual run of clients? And why do you bring them here? Finely dressed this chap may be, but his face tells a different story.’

  ‘This chap, as you call him, is an officer of the King,’ Johnston retorted, ‘one of his deputy lieutenants. He is here to seek counsel to defend his friend, the father of the boy, on a false capital charge. I do not need to remind you that advocates have a duty to represent anyone in need of their services. I have checked the lists and I do not see Sir Basil’s name on any of them for the next week. I wish to instruct him.’

  Baird seemed to stiffen. Mathew wondered whether the solicitor would have spoken to him so harshly had he not been present, and whether he might pay for his boldness at some time in the future.

  ‘Do you have the indictment?’ the clerk asked coldly. ‘If so, I will show it to Sir Basil.’

  ‘Here it is.’ Johnston handed him the document he had brought from the Lord Advocate’s office.

  ‘Does everyone have a little power in this place?’ Mathew asked, as the man left them through a doorway that he could see led into a long room, lined with desks each with a twin candelabra.

  ‘Very perceptive of you, sir,’ the solicitor chuckled. ‘That is exactly how it is, but that man has more than most, given his station. All of us solicitors come to Baird as supplicants; we have no other route to the Bar, and to those who may plead a case in the Supreme Courts, than through him. We need his favour, if we are to retain counsel of our choice, not his. His advocates are all beholden to him, even the mightiest King’s Counsel, like Foster, as their work comes through him. And Baird is clever, a good tactician, ensuring that the fattest briefs go to the fattest men, the top silks, the most senior counsel, while at the same time ensuring that every junior has a worthy living.’

  ‘He should be a politician.’

  ‘He is, Mr Fleming, in his own way.’

  Mathew gave voice to his earlier concern. ‘Then, Mr Johnston,’ he said, ‘have you not put your own future relations with this powerful man in jeopardy by the way you treated him just now?’

  ‘Possibly, but my first duty is to my clients, not myself. If I do fall out of favour, it will not be for long. I will tell you honestly, sir, the type of brief and the size of fee that I am used to bringing to him are the kind he needs to keep his newer members in work and in pocket. All of the advocates here are sole traders, not members of a group as they are in England. So, to keep his own position secure, Baird must keep all of them happy. He may fall out with me, sir, but it will not be for long. As you observed, each of us has a little power of a sort.’

  ‘But what of quality? How is that assured?’

  ‘It is not. Advocates never suffer the consequences of their failures. They may not be sued, not even for the grossest negligence.’

  ‘Then they are lucky men,’ Mathew remarked. ‘If I make a saddle that falls apart, and the rider falls and is injured, or worse, or if my factory makes a component for a locomotive that fractures, then I may expect to find myself here, albeit in the civil court, rather than the criminal. ’

  ‘But you never do,’ young Matt exclaimed.

  ‘Thank you for your loyalty, lad,’ he laughed, ‘but you can see now why that is, and why every item that leaves Netherton or Coatbridge is inspected.’

  ‘Mathew . . .’

  The boy was interrupted by the clerk’s return. He handed the folded document back to Johnston.

  ‘Sir Basil declines your brief,’ he said.

  The solicitor peered at the knotted ribbon. ‘Did he do me the courtesy of reading it?’ he asked, icily.

  ‘There would have been no point. Sir Basil is fishing with the Marquis of Lothian on Tuesday.’

  ‘So a salmon takes precedence over a man’s life?’ Mathew suggested.

  Baird tried to meet his eye, but could not hold his gaze. ‘One cannot disappoint a marquis, sir,’ he murmured. ‘But I cannot debate with you; I may only deal with instructing solicitors, not their clients.’

  ‘In that event,’ Johnston said, ‘take my brief to Michael Kerr, KC. He is listed nowhere for Tuesday.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  He was gone for only a few minutes. ‘Mr Kerr is nowhere to be found. Sir Basil believes he may be at his country house in Fife.’

  ‘Then please approach Richard Scott, KC.’

  The charade continued

  ‘Did you anticipate this?’ Mathew asked, after the clerk had gone off to seek Johnston’s fifth choice.

  ‘I feared that it might happen,’ he admitted, ‘although I hoped that the Faculty’s tradition of fairness would prevail. On the face of it, without knowledge of the boy’s account, the case is hopeless, and no King’s Counsel likes to have a capital failure in the court record. More than that, these men will note that the indictment has been expedited. If they know also, and they will, that the Lord Advocate will prosecute himself . . . none, not even Foster, will wish to cross him.’

  After the sixth refusal of the brief, and the sixth ingenious excuse, Johnston’s list was exhausted, and a smug smile rested on the clerk’s face.

  Young Matt’s agitation was obvious. ‘What can be done?’ he demanded. ‘Faither cannae go undefended! These men are wicked. Mathew, you told me we were coming here for justice, but I see none,’ he glared at the advocates’ clerk, ‘only a . . .’

  ‘Hush, boy,’ his guardian told him. ‘Everything you say, I feel too, and I will not forget it. But raised voices will not help. Mr Johnston,’ he asked, ‘what else can be done?’

  ‘Only one thing.’ He turned back to Baird. ‘Since you, sir, are unable to meet any of my requirements, I am forced to insist that you take my brief to Mr Graham, KC, the Dean of Faculty himself.’

  The little clerk nodded; he seemed unsurprised by the demand, rather than outraged. He took the document for the seventh time, and returned to the reading room.

  ‘Why should the Dean accept what the others have rejected?’ Mathew asked.

  ‘He will not,’ Johnston replied. ‘Man, I hope he does not. Gordon Graham may be the head of the Faculty, but he is one of the worst criminal pleaders in this building. However in these circumstances, the Dean is obliged to appoint an advocate. We can only hope for the best, but in reality, since Mr Graham is a close friend of Mr Douglas, we will simply have to take what we are given.’

  The three waited for fifteen minutes, and more. ‘Perhaps Mr Graham is shooting with the Duke of Argyll,’ Mathew observed drily.

  Finally Baird reappeared. ‘You have counsel,’ he declared, straight-faced but too smugly for Johnston’s liking. ‘Please return to the hall and he will come to consult with you.’

  ‘How will he know us?’ young Matt asked, his belligerence unchecked.

  The clerk looked down his nose at him and laughed. ‘He may recognise your solicitor, or he may not, but if there is another one-eyed, scar-faced man out there, I will eat the buttons on my uniform.’

  I would like to feed them to you, Magnus, one by one, Mathew thought, but he stepped back into Parliament Hall in silence.

  They had been waiting there for five minutes when the door to the Advocates’ Library opened once again and a young man stepped out. He was no taller than the fifteen-year-old Matt but draped in a robe that might have fitted Mathew. He carried his wig on his left hand and a familiar document in the other.

  He looked around the hall, which was more full than it had been when the trio arrived, until his eyes settled on them, and he approached.

  ‘Mr Johnston?’ he ventured, looking hopefully at the solicitor.

  ‘Indeed,’ he replied. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Innes Irvine, advocate.’ He ticked the brief under his left arm and extended his hand to Johnston. ‘Honoured to meet you, sir.’

  ‘And I you. I confess that I have not heard your name before, Mr Irvine.’

  ‘That is no surprise, sir. I was called to the Bar only two weeks ago.’

  Johnston frowned and held up a hand. ‘A moment, if you please.’ He drew Mathew to one side. ‘Graham has appointed the boots of the Faculty to lead the defence in a trial for a man’s life. Do you want to proceed, or do you want me to raise hell here, in a loud voice?’

  ‘Would that serve any purpose?’ Mathew asked. ‘Would it secure us a more acceptable person?’

  ‘No,’ the solicitor admitted, ‘there is no likelihood that it would. The Dean may appoint whoever he chooses.’

  ‘Then let us hear the young fellow out. He holds the brief as if it were a gold bar; that much is in his favour.’

  They turned back to Irvine; standing beside Matt, he looked as if he might not be much the older of the two.

  ‘What was your university?’ Johnston asked.

  ‘Edinburgh, sir.’

  ‘A good beginning. What is your background?’

  ‘The law, sir. My father is a solicitor in Linlithgow, as was his father before him.’

  ‘Very good. As a pupil, to whom did you devil?’

  ‘To Mr Nigel Sutherland, KC; sadly he is seriously indisposed at the moment or I would have offered this brief to him. I am aware of the responsibility, and of the trust the Dean has placed in me.’

  ‘Ah, but I am not sure that you are fully aware. Do you know the Lord Advocate?’

  ‘Not at all, sir, nor anything about him save for one thing.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘He is in an uncommon hurry to see our client hang.’

  Beside him, young Matt blanched.

  ‘This is our client’s son,’ Johnston said, sharply. ‘He is also your principal witness.’

  ‘Then shall we consult on the matter as he is here?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Johnston glanced over his shoulder at other advocates promenading in the hall, in earnest conversation with other solicitors, ‘but not here. I see too many friends of Douglas, and their hearing will be keen. Let us all go to the coffee shop down the way. Is that acceptable to you, Mr Fleming?’

  ‘As long as the coffee justifies it.’

  The establishment in question was in the High Street, just past the constabulary office. It was still well short of noon; there were a few other customers, but none that Johnston recognised as lawyers. They took a table by the window, where the three men ordered coffee, and scones with strawberry jelly, and young Matt asked for lemonade.

  As they waited, the young advocate read through the brief once more, then looked up at Mathew, having identified him as the paymaster, and thus the person of greatest influence in the group.

  ‘May I speak freely in front of the boy, sir?’

  ‘You must; but please do not think of him as such. He’s here on man’s business, and must be treated thus.’

  ‘Very well. On the face of it, we have an open and shut case here, one which any advocate would rather prosecute than defend. But your persistence . . . indeed your very presence, Mr Fleming, for I know who you are, and that you are a very important person in the west of Scotland . . . that tells me there is more to this matter than what is set out in this hasty libel. The panel . . . that is to say the accused . . . is said to have shown extraordinary violence and displayed malice aforethought to the deceased. Can that be true?’

  ‘Aforethought or afterthought,’ Mathew said, ‘certainly not. Mr McGill was dismissed from his post by Sir Gregor Cleland, and employed by me on the very same day, on significantly better terms. If anything, he had cause to be grateful to Cleland; he and I laughed about that on more than one occasion.’

  ‘And will you attest to that under oath?’

  ‘Of course. As to the violence, I was not there, but if I had been, and had seen what had happened, I would have done as David did in response, only I would have disabled Gavin first, as I would not have left that man at my back with a pistol. But I was a soldier; David, on the other hand, had never been roused to such anger in his life. He was hot-blooded and left himself exposed to what has happened since.’

  ‘Left himself exposed on the day, you mean,’ Irvine corrected him.

  ‘No, sir, I do not. I have thought on this over the last few days, so I do not say it lightly. Consider if you will the width of a man’s back, and of his forehead. Even for the worst shot in the world, how difficult is it to miss a target that size from a distance of no more than three yards? Now consider the size of a man’s forehead. How difficult is it to hit a target of that size, slap in the centre? Gavin Cleland is not the worst shot in the world. His father was very proud of his sons’ prowess with the pistol. He spoke to me of it one day, when I delivered a saddle to him, because he knew I had been an infantryman. He even said that Gavin could hit a target from horseback, if he chose.’

  ‘You are saying?’ the advocate asked.

  ‘Nothing. Hear Matt’s story, think on what I have said and see what you think.’

  He leaned back in his chair and listened as his young charge told Irvine the true story of what had happened on the previous Sunday.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked when he was done.

  ‘I think, Mr Fleming, that we have our defence, one of impeachment. We must counter the indictment by accusing Gavin Cleland of his brother’s murder.’

  Johnston intervened. ‘Even though there is no corroboration of the boy’s . . . sorry, the young man’s story?’

  ‘Ah, but there is, after a fashion. As well as attesting to the lack of animosity held towards Sir Gregor by the accused, Mr Fleming is also a witness to Gavin’s prowess with the pistol, as described by his father.’

  ‘There is still the matter of the two women and their evidence.’

  ‘Their false evidence,’ Irvine added. ‘What is their motive in saying what they did? What do we know of these women?’

  ‘Other than that one is a gentlewoman from Cheshire and that the other is her servant, we know nothing.’

  ‘A gentlewoman who is prepared to lie a man’s life away, under oath? I am a brand new advocate and I may be naive, but I doubt that. I would like to know more of her and of her companion.’

  ‘Where can they be lodging in Edinburgh?’ Paul Johnston wondered aloud. ‘The indictment tells us nothing, and yet if they are to be in the witness box on Tuesday, they must be close by, surely?’

  ‘They may be on the Cleland Estate,’ Mathew pointed out.

  ‘That is true. If Miss Smith was indeed a close friend of the deceased, she may well have remained there. After all, there will be a funeral.’

  ‘Indeed, but when?’

  ‘I can tell you that,’ the solicitor said. ‘I asked the Lord Advocate’s clerk if it would be possible to view the corpse. He said that would not be possible as it had been released for burial, on Saturday. Although he did not say where.’

  ‘There is a family plot at Carluke Kirk; he’ll join his ancestors there, I am sure. I think I will go along to see him off, and hopefully the ladies will be present. Sheriff Stirling will be, I am sure. If so, I may lay a charge of perjury against them.’

  ‘A good plan,’ Innes Irvine agreed, ‘but let us not get ahead of ourselves. Before any of that, young Mr McGill must give a formal precognition of his evidence, and I must visit my client. I must take his personal instruction, before lodging notice of our defence.’

  ‘We can do the first now, and the second this afternoon.’

  ‘Very good.’ The young advocate drank some of his strong coffee and shuddered slightly at the taste.

  ‘This case could be the making of you, could it not?’ Mathew suggested.

  ‘Indeed, sir, provided that it is the making of my client, rather than his ending.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘WHAT NEWS DO YOU have for me, Ewan? Was your mission a success?’

  ‘Doubly so, Mr Fleming,’ the coachman replied. ‘I found the Clelands’ house in Edinburgh, and I have discovered also that Gavin, Sir Gavin, as I assume he must be now, is residing there.’

  ‘Indeed? Well done, man. Is he alone, or did you see the two ladies also, Miss Smith and Miss Stout?’