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Montrose
shook his head. 'Not a trace. No word - nothing. As I wrote to you, I
found John Colquhoun, at last. In Venice. But alone. Katherine was
not there. She had gone. He said, he said that she had run off with
another man! He knew not where.'

'God
have mercy on her!' Napier whispered, Montrose's prolonged Grand Tour
had been rather more than just that. It had been a quest, a search,
and a terrible one. Undertaken under the guise of finishing his
education in the accepted fashion, to lessen the scandal of it all.
And undertaken hurriedly, and against much good advice - including
the Lord Napier's, which was why he had not been in his earl's place
at King Charles's coronation at Edinburgh only a month or so after
his hasty departure. For another brother-in-law, Sir John Colquhoun
of Luss, chief of that name and husband of the Lady Lilias, eldest of
the five Graham sisters, had suddenly elected to desert his wife and
family, abandon his estates, sheriffdom and responsibilities, and
abscond to the Continent - and, what was worse, had taken with him
the Lady Katherine Graham, the unwed younger sister of twenty. To the
scandal of all Scotland. Outlawed by the shocked Privy Council,
excommunicated by the outraged Kirk, Colquhoun and his sister-in-law
disappeared beyond the seas. And nothing would serve young James
Graham but that he there and then must advance the date of his
projected educational tour of the capitals of Christendom, and go in
search of his erring sister.

'I
did not fight John Colquhoun,' he said, slowly. 'I had promised
myself that I would have his life. But, seeing and hearing him, I
perceived that would profit nothing. Nor help Katherine, nor yet
Lilias. The man was broken, distraught, pitiful. I scarce knew him.
He was a man deserted.'

'Deserted
! Colquhoun? What are you saying, Jamie? Do you know what you are
saying?'

'All
too well, I know.
He
had
been deserted - both by my sister, and by his creature Carlippis, who
had been his evil genius throughout. The poor besotted fool!'

Appalled,
Napier stared at the younger man. ‘You . . . you are making
your sister a wanton, then? A heartless wanton
...
!'

'I
know not what my sister is. I
thought
that
I knew her. We were close - but a year between us. She was ever my
companion, as children. And ever she was spirited. Strange, in some
fashion. But, this . . . ! God's mercy - what is she?'

You
are not saying that she went off with the Italian? Or German -
whatever he was. That necromancer of Colquhoun's. A mere
servant! With that wretched charlatan ?

'I
do not know. Except that they left John Colquhoun secretly. And at
the same time. And both went none know where.'

'If
it had not been yourself telling me, I'd not have believed i
t!
Katherine! Little Katherine. But nineteen years. And you learned no
more of her?'

'I
sent out messengers, enquirers, from Venice, Florence, Rome. All the
time I was studying at Padua, I was seeking word of her. False scents
I followed, in plenty. Nothing came of any. I was told of a young
Scotswoman who had appeared at the Court of King Louis, calling
herself the Comtesse de Medoc. Medoc might, at a stretch, be for
Mugdock, where Katherine was born. I threw up my studies at Padua,
and went to Paris with Basil Fielding, Denbigh's son. But the woman
was Irish, not Scots. A young widow of a true Medoc. I remained at
the French Court. Still seeking. Then your letter came, telling me
that it was time that I returned to Scotland. That matters were not
well here, and that I should be home.'

'Aye.'
Heavily Napier said it. 'And that is the truth. I am sorry, lad.
Grieved that all this sore trouble should have struck you - struck us
all. Grieved to have fetched you home to more trouble. Grieved for
this realm of Scotland , , .'

'You
said in your letter that matters were going but ill. In kirk and
state.'

'Ill,
yes. But - see you, here is no way to welcome you home, Jamie. You
will be weary, needing refreshment. How long do you bide with me?
¹

'A
night, two. No more, Archie. Then I must ride north to Kinnaird. I
sent word to Magdalen that I was coming.'

To
be sure. I must not keep you from her - blithe as I would be to have
you bide.'

'Magdalen-all
is well at Kinnaird?'

'Aye.
No trouble there, at least, the good Lord be praised. She will
rejoice to see you. She has missed you sorely, Jamie.' The older man
shot a keen, searching glance at the younger. 'It has been a long
time, lad. For a woman.'

'For
us all, Archie - for us all, But I do blame myself -even though I
esteemed them to have little need of me, up there.'

'More
than you think, James. But - come you down. You must eat and drink.
You will have your folk with you. My house is yours
.'

It
was evening before, fed and rested, Montrose could again be alone
with his brother-in-law. They walked together in the mellow walled
garden to the south of the castle, amongst clipped box and
apple-trees, with the first swallows darting about them in the clear
northern light — all of which affected the homecomer not a
little.

‘
I
urged you, in my letter, to make shift to see King Charles,"
Napier said, 'Did you so, Jamie?'

‘
I
saw King Charles,' the other answered,

At
the tone of voice, the older man looked sidelong at his companion.

‘
You
scarce sound enchanted? Did something go amiss?'

'Amiss,
yes. Whether my face, my name, or the style of me, I know not. But
His Grace would have none of me. Scarce threw me a word. Rejected me
out-of-hand, before all his Court.'

Napier
had stopped. 'You , . . you cannot mean this, in truth? That the King
rejected you? You, Montrose! One of the greatest lords in Scotland.
I
cannot
believe it, Jamie
...'

'It
is the truth. More than rejected - spurned. Deliberately. I was there
to offer him my leal support and duty, my whole strength, my all. For
the word is that he may need it! But, it seems that he wants none of
it. Even though my family has borne up the Scots throne for
centuries. Johnnie Kilpont says that it was Hamilton's doing. That
Hamilton had poisoned the King's mind against me - I know not why. I
have never given offence to Hamilton, that I know of. But . . . even
so, Charles could have heard me, made his own judgment. My liege
lord...'

This
is beyond all.' Shaking his head, Napier moved on slowly along the
garden path. 'His Grace needs every true man he may find, indeed.
Though most of all, honest advice - dear God, how he needs that,
And
he will not get it from Hamilton, and his like. But - how was it?
What did he say
...
?'

Clipped
of voice, stiffly - for it went sorely against a young man's pride,
especially one reared as Montrose had been, to power and authority
almost from infancy - he told all, as they paced beneath the trees on
the drifts of fallen apple-blossom.

Napier
heard him out, frowning, sighing. 'Save us – I fear, Jamie.
Fear for Scotland. Fear for the King's Grace - for us all. When a man
can make so many mistakes, can scarce do anything aright - how shall
the realm survive?
And yet, he is honest,
1
am
convinced. Means well. And is not a fool. Indeed, I conceive him
honourable, truly princely in most matters. A man apart'

"As
did I. And so he appears, looks, sounds. But behaves, it seems,
differently!'

'He
is badly advised - we all know that He has no judgment as to whom to
trust, to take into his confidence. He surrounds himself with
time-servers, place-seekers, windbags. This I know only too
well. He lacks his father's shrewdness. King James was as
graceless a king as ever sat upon a throne - but he was shrewd. He
would never have done what Charles is doing. Splitting his ancient
realm in twain for die sake of a clerk's rigmarole, a prayer-book!'

'Kilpont
said something of this. But he had not the rights of it, I am sure.'

'Aye
- that is why I wanted you home, Jamie. I daresay young Kilpont was
none so far out. This is the trouble that threatens Scotland. Dire
trouble, and all for a few printed words on paper. The King, egged on
by this wretched prelate Laud, this Archbishop he has made, is
insisting that the Kirk changes its form of worship to the same as
the Church of England! Indeed, he would have no Kirk of Scotland, but
have us all worshipping God the same way, he says - his way, Laud's
way. We must accept his bishops - these we have already, this while,
but we scarcely bow down to them. But now he has seven of them on his
Privy Council. And we are to use a new prayer-book of Laud's in our
kirks, and give up the Presbyterian form of worship and church
government. This, by royal command. On pain of treason!'

'But
..
. but it is not possible! None can do such a thing. Not die King. Not
any archbishop. Not any man on God's earth! Scotland's faith, her
worship, is her own.'

'Charles
says otherwise. He claims that he is head of the Church, as of the
realm
...'

'The
Church of England, maybe - but not of Scotland ! None but Christ
Himself is head of Scotland's Kirk!'

'Aye
- so we, the Kirk, have told him. But he will have none of it. He has
appointed a Court of High Commission, to rule for him in matters
ecclesiastical. He has appointed Archbishop Spottiswoode of St
Andrews as Chancellor of Scotland, instead of the Earl of Kinnoult —
the first churchman to hold the office since the Reformation of
blessed memory. He has made a new diocese of Edinburgh, and declared
the High Kirk of St Giles to be its Cathedral, and ordered cast down
the partition-wall between the chancel and the nave. He will have
none of the presbyters - we are all to be Episcopalians, bowing to
his bishops whether we will or no.'

‘
But
...
he cannot make us, 'fore God! He cannot change a nation's
religion-one man!'

'He
can try. And lacks not the means, or the will to enforce it.
John Livingstone, Lord Balmerino, you know„ He protested,
sought to rally others to protest. The King called it high treason.
Had him warded and tried - aye, and condemned. To death, no
less! For gainsaying the royal right to say how we should worship.
But, man - there was siclike an uproar over it, that even Charles
Stewart took second thoughts and issued a royal pardon. But, see you
- it
was
only
a pardon, not a reversal of his edicts. And, it seems, he has learned
nothing by it. A new ordinance to regulate the worship of the Kirk
was signed, in London, earlier this year. And this very month a Book
of Canons was sent up to us, for obedience. These Canons to have the
force of law. Moreover, there is this Liturgy to follow. That is
Charles Stewart, by the Grace of God, King! And, stirring up this
bees' bike, he yet spums Montrose's hand and help!'