Kenny Drummond’s Parchment by Michael Bloor

James IV, king of Scotland from 1488 to 1513, was a Renaissance Man. He was fluent in Spanish, French, Italian, Latin, Flemish and Gaelic. He ordered the construction of The Great Hall in Stirling Castle, arguably the first renaissance building in Britain. He issued the first ever compulsory Education Act (albeit only for the first-born sons of landowners). He introduced the first printing press to Scotland. And, like some other monarchs of the day, he appointed a court alchemist, one Father John Damian.

Stirling Castle, on its great rock, looming over the Forth and commanding the road to the Highlands, has become a ‘must-see’ for foreign visitors on their trips to Scotland, with the narrow cobbled street up to the massive castle entrance jammed with tourist buses every summer. Yet, until the early 1960’s, the castle was still an army barracks.

After the soldiers left, there was a lot of work to do to make the castle presentable for the visitors. Kenny Drummond’s dad, Willie, was one of the workmen employed on the refurbishment. Back then, there had been a rumour (stoutly denied by the Drummond family) that Willie had found something in that refurbishment which hadn’t been declared to the foreman or the site archaeologist. But rumours fade like memories and Stirling in 2024 was a very different place from Stirling in 1964. The pits had all closed and Stirling University had opened its doors. The old Miners Welfare building was now a mosque.

Certainly, Tony Abercrombie, a volunteer castle guide, had never heard any rumours of undeclared archaeological finds. If he had, he’d ‘ve mentioned it on his castle tours: it was the sort of story that the tourists liked to hear, and guides liked to tell. Tony enjoyed the guiding a good deal more than he used to enjoy teaching Latin. There wasn’t much call for studying Latin at the Uni these days, so he’d been happy at the time to take the redundancy money when it was offered. Sadly, since then, the pub and the betting shop had been equally happy to take most of that pay-out.

The embarrassment of being short of funds is said to be felt more acutely by the elderly middle classes. Perhaps that was why Dr. Abercrombie was receptive to a suggestion made by Kenny, Willie Drummond’s son, and a fellow member of the Stirling Wanderers Walking Football Team  (the term  ‘walking football’ here is a misnomer as, by the end of a game, both teams of veterans are reduced to a heaving, gasping, coughing rabble, necessitating several post-match pints in the nearest hospitable pub). So, it was as they were leaving The Rob Roy Hotel together that Kenny said: ‘Ye used to teach Latin, Tony. I’ve got an auld piece o’ parchment with some strange writin’ on it, looks like Latin. Could ye mebbe tak a  look at it sometime?’

Kenny didn’t want to appear too eager to cash-in his dad’s find, so he left it a week til he took the parchment round to the flat on Pitt Terrace that Tony could no longer afford. The parchment had been wrapped in an old towel and stored in one of those old-fashioned cardboard shirt boxes. There was an unconscious element of theatricality to the way Kenny carefully unwrapped the find. Tony was silently impressed. He went to the bathroom and came back wearing a pair of plastic gloves left over from the covid epidemic. He guessed the parchment was vellum; it was in a distressed state. The bottom of the page was missing and the remaining lower part was so discoloured that the writing was quite illegible. The upper part of the page was pretty grubby, but the writing was clearer. Remaining silent, he rummaged in a draw til he found a magnifying glass.

Kenny: ‘Whaddya think?’

Tony: ‘Looks like some sort of list, together with specified quantities…. It’s not Latin. See here: “Sulphur.” And there: “Vinegar”…And is that: “White Lead?”… Odd sort of list…Bloody Hell!’

Kenny: ‘What?’

Tony: ‘Jesus! Well, it’s just struck me – could it be Father Damian’s??’

Kenny suppressed the urge to shout in contradiction that it was his dad’s. ‘Who the fuck’s Father Damian?’

Tony explained that Father John Damian had been James IV’s court alchemist. The king had arranged for a furnace to be constructed at the castle for Father Damian to experiment and search for The Philosopher’s Stone, the miraculous ingredient that would turn lead into gold and would also be a sovereign cure for diseases, The Elixir of Life. He’d also be the future subject of a tale that was a favourite with the castle tourists, the tale of Father Damian’s search for The Secret of Flight…

Kenny: ‘Oh aye, him. The guy that covered himself in hens’ feathers, said he was awa’ tae France, and jumped off the castle wall. Fell straight intae the castle midden, broke a leg and was covered in shite. Aye, we all ken that tale. So he wis an alchemist trying to turn lead intae gold? And this is his list of ingredients? What happened tae him?’

Tony: ‘The king still had faith in him, but the cost of the alchemical experiments and the shambolic man-powered flight episode had made him unpopular at court. In 1513, James sent him to Crawfurdmuir in Clydesdale to survey the gold workings there. A few months later, James and a fair few of his court were killed in the disastrous battle of Flodden Field. Nothing further is known about Damian.’

The two pondered the parchment in silence. Kenny figured that, as a partial list of ingredients, it was useless. But might it be worth something as an historical document? ‘Suppose, just suppose, Tony, that I wis tae claim to ‘ve come across this parchment last week, when Annie and I wis clearing awa’ the auld man’s bits and pieces…’

Tony: ‘Are you asking my advice, in a professional capacity, and in the expectation of paying an advisory fee?’

[long silence]

Kenny: ‘Aye, just so. Ten per cent?’

Tony: ‘Fifteen.’

Kenny: ‘Done.’

Tony: ‘Kenny, man, this ancient list is going to be as famous as The World’s Oldest Football*. It’s worth it’s weight in gold.’

*Stirling’s Smith Art Gallery & Museum houses the world’s oldest football, found jammed high in the rafters of James IV’s Great Hall, during repairs in 1981.

Michael Bloor

Bewahrerderwerte, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons – Sterling Castle among the trees on the rock.