Unknown (22 page)

You
are not a Catholic?'

‘
No,
no. I am of the Kirk. All know It, well. It is not that, my lord. It
is, ah, difficult.'

'Most
of this realm has found it right and proper. None so difficult Why
you?'

"We,
we are King's men, here.'

'And
do you say that I am not, sir?'

'Sakes
- no! Never that, my lord Earl — never that! But some are not.
Some would have the King down. Some sec this Covenant as a
condemnation of King Charles. I cannot sign such a thing.'

1
tell
you it is not so. Do you know better than do I, sir? Would Montrose
pull down his King? If your chief, my lord Rothes, can sign, why not
you?'

'My
lord Rothes is
...
is far away. Others are not!'

'Ah!
Do not tell me that you, a Leslie, kin to Rothes, fear a pack of
college professors ?'

'Hech
- not them t There are others, my lord. More
..,
more
potent!'

'So!
You mean, the Gordons?'

'Aye
- the Gordons, My lord Huntly is near, where my lord Rothes is far!
And can field a hundred men for every one of Leslie.'

'Mm.
I will be seeing the Marquis of Huntly. But, Mr Provost, do not tell
me that the great city of Aberdeen must do as the Gordon says, if it
would do otherwise? You have trained bands, have you not? A Town
Guard? A walled and strong city.'

Leslie
said nothing. They were halted now, before the tall Tolbooth, the
narrow streets crowded with watching - but not cheering - townsfolk,
through which the cavalcade had had to force its way. The Provost
dismounted, to aid his visitor down.

Montrose
shook his head. He had been reared near enough to the Highland Line
to be careful about eating the salt of any man with whom he might be
at odds, and so having hands tied by the claims of hospitality.

'No,
sir,' he announced. 'I regret any discourtesy. But I am here of a
set purpose, my friend. At the command of the Tables of the
Convention. To gain Aberdeen for the Covenant Does the Provost
of Aberdeen sign? Or does he not?'

'I
cannot, my lord. Bear with me.' The other wrung his hands. 'Perhaps
hereafter. When you have spoken with my lord Marquis. Meantime -
come. A banquet is prepared for you and yours. All is ready. Come,
enter my lord ,..'

'My
sorrow - but no. I will not sit down with those who conceive me a
traitor to my King! Nor those who betray their own realm and
religion, through fear.'

'But.
. . but. . .' The Provost turned unhappily to stare at his fellow
magistrates, all lined up to conduct their guests within.

'But
nothing, sir,
¹
Montrose said, making his voice stem. 'Here is a matter of
principle. When you tell me that you will lead your citizenry in
signing this paper, then I will rejoice to eat your meat. Till then,
sir, I bid you a good day.'

'But
your men, my lord? All your great company ,
..
?'

'We
shall find quarters for them in the town, never fear. At my own
charges.
^'
He turned. 'Pate - see to it. Quarters. And not only for the men.
Who is for the Covenant in Aberdeen? With a large house? Your
kinsman, the Earl Marischal? The Lord Forbes?'

'The
Marischal is from home, I understand.' Inchbrakie's mother was
grand-daughter of the fourth Earl Marischal. 'And Forbes is old,
ailing, and bides at Forbes Castle. But Pitsligo is sound, and his
wife my cousin, sister to the Marischal.'

'Then
let us seek Pitsligo's town-house. The Provost will inform us where
it lies...'

In
the end they found admirable quarters in the great mansion of
William Keith, seventh Ear] Marischal, which was indeed the prior's
palatial suite of the former Greyfriars Monastery which the
Marischal had gained at the Reformation, the present young
earl's sister, Lady Pitsligo, gladly throwing it open for the
visitors. Settled therein, the ministers set out for the University
in Old Aberdeen, seeking interview with the professors and
divines.

They
came back later, much later, and in no joyful mood, able to boast no
more success than had Montrose with the magistracy. The doctors
would have nothing to do with the Covenant, although many of the
students appeared to be in favour. What was worse, a meeting of the
city ministers had decided against allowing the visitors the use of
any of their pulpits for the next day, Sunday — one of the
main objectives of the expedition, whereby they could reach the
ears of the people. Whether it was love for King Charles, belief in
episcopacy, or fear of the Gordon, Aberdeen was solid against the
Covenant.

But
the apostles thereof were by no means beaten. They hired town-criers
and sent out messengers ail through the city to announce a great
service next day, or series of services, which would continue
non-stop throughout the day from morning till night, each of the
three Covenanting divines taking it in tum to preach and lead the
prayers. This to be held in the large central courtyard of the Earl
Marischal's lodging, wet or fine. All who professed the Reformed
faith of Christ Crucified were urged at least to come and listen and
pray for God's guidance.

Fortunately
that Sunday dawned dry, even though a chill haar blanketed all from
the North Sea. From an early hour crowds thronged the Greyfriars
vicinity, and there was considerable uproar when large numbers
could not gain admittance to the courtyard. Montrose's Graham
troopers had to be employed in crowd-control dudes. Not all, it is
to be feared, were there in search of God's guidance or in
Covenanting zeal; but at least the common folk of Aberdeen
turned out in force; and as the day wore on, thousands heard an
increasingly hoarse triumvirate of divines expound the Creator's
purpose with them, men in general, and the erring city of Aberdeen
in particular. There were some unmannerly interruptions; but the
Grahams soon coped with these. And available Covenants soon were
satisfactorily filled with signatures - even though some
scoffers declared that they would be getting Hielant links to set
their sooty marks on it next! Certainly it was not the leadership or
intelligentsia of the city that were signing.

Montrose
quite quickly had enough of this marathon of joint worship and
persuasion, and set off on a round of visits, with his pleasantly
uninhibited and hearty hostess, Lady Pitsligo, to bring a little
pressure on neighbouring lairds.

By
evening he was fully convinced - as the lady had told him from the
beginning - that the Covenant would get nowhere in the North-East
until the Cock o' the North himself, George Gordon, second
Marquis of Huntly, was persuaded, if not to sign it, at least
to withdraw his strong and declared opposition to it. The Gordon
power was all-important. With 200 Gordon lairds within a thirty-mile
radius of Huntly, their chief could count on over a thousand men
rallying to his call in a couple of days, five thousand in a week.
And not just bareshanked Highland caterans, but jacked and armed
horsemen. Here was the shield and buckler behind which Aberdeen
University defied St Andrews, Glasgow and Edinburgh.

On
the Monday morning, then, Montrose rode the forty miles to Huntly,
by Don, Ury and the Braes of Foudland, rounding the dominant peak of
Benachie under the great skies of that rolling far-flung land. He
rode practically unescorted. It would have been pointless,
indeed foolish, to take any large armed party on this errand, since
the Gordon could so readily outmatch it. Anyway, the ministers were
probably in greater need of the protection. He took Kilpont with
him, however, and half a dozen troopers.

The
town of Huntly and its great castle - more properly the Castle of
Strathbogie - lies secluded in the folds of the green foothills of
the great mountains that form the roof of Scotland, a world unto
itself. Here the Gordon chiefs maintained a strange, out-dated,
semi-barbarous but princely state, undisputed lords of life and
death over a vast area. Highland and Lowland.

Long
before they reached Strathbogie, Montrose's little party found
themselves being escorted by a large and evergrowing company of
heavily armed and fierce-looking clansmen, who seemed to be
concerned, not with greeting the newcomers but with demonstrating
who was master hereabouts. These were dismounted Highlanders,
and trotted along beside the horsemen untiring as they were
speechless, a somewhat off-putting convoy. Presently they were
joined by a mounted squadron of about two hundred, under a
cavalier-like personage of great magnificence, who introduced
himself courteously enough as Gordon of Straloch, Chamberlain to the
Gordon, High and Mighty Marquis of Huntly and Lord of Strathbogie;
and as politely asked the visitors' business on Gordon territory. He
did not show the least surprise, however, when he was told that this
was
An
Greumach Mor,
Earl
of Montrose, seeking word with the said Gordon.

In
this fashion, then, they dipped down into the green valley of the
Deveron, in now fertile and populous country beneath the high hills,
and entered the narrow streets of Huntly,
a
place
of peat-reek, smells, flies, yelling children and barking dogs. The
enormous castle, with its widespread outworks, flanking-towers and
soaring keep, loomed above all at the junction of Bogie and Deveron,
ancient although all the upper storeys had been rebuilt in the
latest architectural vogue from France not long before -
elaborate stonework, mullions, string-courses, oriels, dormers
and so on. Like its lord, Huntly Castle was an odd mixture.

Obviously
the Gordon had known all about his visitors coming, for he was
waiting at the end of his drawbridge to meet them, in full and
extraordinary fig. Probably no one else in Scotland dressed quite
like George Gordon, second Marquis of Huntly. A tall, finely built
and handsome man of middle years, with features
a
shade
too fine and narrow to be strong, and eyes just
a
little
foxlike in their slant, he had
a
pointed
beard rather longer than usual, like the King's. He was inclining
somewhat to stoutness but was still a splendid figure of
a
man.
He wore tartan trews, cut on the cross and tight-fitting, to show
off long, good legs; and with them
a
large,
jewelled, wild-cat skin sporran. Above was a tartan waistcoat of a
different hue, worn under a deep-skirted, military-style riding-coat
with heavy turned-back cuffs and gold buttons. If this was not
enough, on
a
warm
summer's day, a great tartan plaid of still another variety was
slung and pinned down, over one shoulder, by a large sparkling
brooch of Celtic design, with the ribbon of the Garter crossing
it diagonally and untidily. To crown all, he wore on his curling,
shoulder-length, fox-red hair an enormous beaver hat with two
curling ostrich feathers in the colours of his house, blue and gold.