Unknown (23 page)

"Greetings
to the Graham!' this dramatic personage declared, in ringing tones.
'Welcome to my poor house. Here's Gordon's hand. I knew your father,
poor man. And your witch of a mother. Man, who would have thought
that they would have produced the like of yourself!'

A
little bemused by both his host's appearance and reception,
Montrose dismounted and shook the proffered hand. He expressed his
satisfaction and honour in being received in person by the great
Marquis of Huntly, Cock o' the North, and introduced Kilpont,
whose father would be well known to the Gordon. Apparently the
former Earl of Menteith was indeed, for Huntly promptly held forth
on the follies of that unfortunate, and hoped that his son had more
sense - all in the best of humours however. Then, more or less as an
afterthought, he selected two of the no fewer than eleven
youths and children who were milling around amongst as many deer-
and wolf-hounds and smaller dogs, casually identifying them as
Aboyne and Lewis - the Viscount Aboyne, second son, and the Lord
Lewis - though which was which was not clear.

Montrose
was paying his respects to these two, and also to
a
somewhat
slatternly but sharp-eyed dark girl who seemed to be the eldest of
the brood, but Huntly's booming voice interrupted. He had turned to
his hounds, and it rapidly became apparent that these were his
favourite subject and study. One by one he named diem, carefully,
describing in detail their pedigrees, prowess and particular points,
occasionally referring back for comparison and amplification -
all under the admiring regard of
a
whole
court of Gordon lairds and cadets, of varying types and degrees, and
some hundreds of assorted supporters. As the recital went on and on,
the visitors stirred a little. Montrose was uncertain whether this
was normal procedure or
a
subtle
form of sidetracking.

It
was another of the youths,
a
boy
smaller than either of the two who had been introduced, with
a
preternaturally
grave expression but a bright eye, who came to the rescue. "Father,
^'
he said calmly, 'these lords are weary with long riding. On a hot
day. Should they not receive refreshment?
¹

"Eh?
What do you say? Dammit, boy - hold your tongue! What's the hurry?
Quiet! Would you have the Graham deem you lacking in manners? See,
my lords - this Luath is one of the finest bitches in all the North.
She has bred some of my best hounds - but still can out-run and pull
down a tall stag. Seumas is of her breeding...'

The
brave Gordon son tugged at his impressive sire's plaid. 'My lord of
Montrose has
a
parchment,
sir,' he announced. 'I see it peeping from his saddle-roll. I swear
it is the Covenant itself! Brought for you to sign. Is is not, my
lord?'

'Since
you ask, young man — it is! Many have signed it in Aberdeen.
My lord your father's name would much grace it.' ‘No doubt,
Montrose —no doubt!' Huntly said testily. 'But

I
mislike it, see you. I told your Colonel Munro as much, when he
came,here with the paper. It is not for me, all this talk of
religion and faith and covenants.
I
prefer
my hounds
1
A
man knows where he is with them. Now - see this tall fellow, sired
by younder Keiran. There is breeding for you! Look at the length of
leg, the depth of chest. .

'Excellent,
I am sure, my lord Marquis. But the Gordon has more to offer this
realm than fine hounds, I swear! In Scotland many look to you for
lead. Will you not give it to them, sir?'

'Not
against the King's Grace.
^'

Think
you I would bring this Covenant to you if it was aimed against the
King's Grace? The Graham is as loyal as the Gordon!'

'Others
do not say so, my lord.'

Then
others lie, sir. Have you
read
the
Covenant?' 'All those words! Why no, sir.'

'If
you will do so, you will discover no single word against His Grace.
That I assure you. More than that. See - here is a statement, an
endorsement, on this copy, signed by myself and my colleagues of the
Ministers' Table — Henderson, Dickson, Cant I will read
it to you.' Montrose picked up the parchment 'We declare before all,
that we neither had nor have any Intention but of loyalty to His
Majesty, as this Covenant bears.' He held it out to Huntly. 'This we
wrote for some in Aberdeen who also had not read the wording.
Will it not serve to content you, my lord?'

It
was Huntly who suddenly thought of refreshment now. 'We must think
on this. But - shame on me to have kept you thus, lacking meats,
wine, sustenance. Come, my lords - my house is yours. Come.'

The
young Gordon who had first suggested it, gravely led the way. The
Great Hall of the castle was even more chaotic than the forecourt.
All the children, ranging from perhaps eighteen down to five years,
came in, the supporting lairds too, and all the hounds, to add to
the house- and lap-dogs, cats, two monkeys and, of all things, a
tame heron which stalked about looking disgusted, with its own tub
of live frogs for provender. House-gillies and varied servants were
everywhere, all on entirely familiar terms with their lord and his
family - although one of the smallest skirls took pleasure in
pointing out to die visitors, through a cobwebbed window, to where
three naked men dangled from a dule-tree on the moot-hill beside the
Deveron - they had been insolent, she explained. Huntly, of course,
as well as having the usual baronial powers of pit and gallows, was
hereditary Justiciar of the North, and could more or less hang whom
he pleased. In all this teeming and vigorous scene three more
daughters of the house came to blows and hair-pulling over which
should serve what to the great Montrose. Needless to say, there was
no Marchioness of Huntly; the poor lady had died, probably
thankfully, in giving birth to the youngest of the brood nearly five
years before. She had been a Campbell.

In
the perpetual confusion and noise, it took some time for Montrose to
realise that the dark youth in the stained and almost ragged
clothing, who had dared to interrupt his father, was in fact,
despite his size, the eldest son of the house, the heir, the Lord
Gordon. It was typical of this odd establishment that it was the
seventeen-year-old
second
son
who was Viscount Aboyne, his year-older brother bearing the lesser
title. This was because Huntly himself had been created viscount
before he succeeded his father as marquis, and had passed this title
on to his favourite, leaving his heir the traditional Lord Gordon.
It was this young man's close study of the Covenant parchment -
something nobody else seemed in the least interested in - which drew
the Graham to him.

'Do
you find aught against the King in that, my friend?' he asked
quietly, amidst all the hubbub.

"No,
my lord,' this other George Gordon answered seriously. 'To me it
seems sufficient loyal. And to make good sense.'

'Ha!
Then tell your father so.'

'That
would serve nothing,' the youth observed simply. 'Belter that you
tell him, I think, that this paper seeks religious freedom for all.
Liberty to worship according to a man's conscience. Even for
Catholics. If so it docs?' Montrose found two very level dark eyes
fixed on his own. 'Can you so tell him, my lord ?'

His
guest fingered an arrowhead of beard. 'It is a statement of the
reformed faith,' he said slowly. 'But I acknowledge that a
Catholic's conscience can be as true and honest as a Protestant's.
Therefore what is fair for the one should be fair for the other,'

'Aye.
But that is not what I asked! Can you tell my father that if this
paper is accepted by the King, and what it says becomes the law in
Scotland, then those who would follow the old faith may do so, as
their conscience guides them, without hurt or harassment?
Episcopalians likewise?'

Montrose
drew a deep breath, eyeing this most unlikely son of his father.
'That I cannot swear to, friend, since it has not been debated. So
far, none have spoken so honestly, so bold to the point, as have
you. It would require to be considered and passed by die
Tables. But this I can say - that such it should be. To my mind it
is no less than due. How a man worships his God is his own affair.
None should constrain other, be it the King, the Kirk, or the
Pope of Rome. To this I would set my hand. To this I will testify,'

'My
father may require more, my lord. But I would trust Montrose,' the
Lord Gordon said quietly. 'I am not of age to sign this. But would
if I might,' He handed back die parchment,

James
Graham gripped the slender shoulder for a moment, before turning
back to the others.

When
he could gain Huntly's more or less undivided attention, he put the
matter to him. Would he accept the Covenant if it was declared to
include religious freedom for all? Catholics, Presbyterians and
Episcopalians alike? Would he sign it with a rider to that effect?

The
Cock o' the North burst into a spate of indeterminate noise, a flood
of words signifying nothing in particular — though eloquent
enough to Montrose. This man was not going to be pinned down.
Whether feckless or crafty, the Gordon would not commit himself.

One
last effort Montrose made. 'My lord Marquis,' he said, 'in this
matter Scotland speaks with an all but united voice. The Covenant
will win. For the King will not use armed force against the majority
of his Scots people. In that day, you would not wish it to be said,
I think, that the Gordon, almost alone, was against it? And
prevented the North-East from signing it!'

'Me?
I prevent none from signing, man I That I do not do so my own self
need hinder none.'

"You
say so? I rejoice to hear it. Others may sign it, if they will? And
you are not concerned?'

'If
they will...'

The
word of a noble lord,' the other interjected quickly.

He
raised his voice for all to hear. 'My lord Marquis declares that he
cares not who signs the Covenant!' he cried. That his abstention
need hinder none. The word of a generous man! For this many will
thank the Gordon.'

Blinking
in some surprise at his sudden popularity, Huntly shook his head
vigorously, and made more of his indeterminate noises.