Unknown (62 page)

'But
there were no MacGrcgors in it, my lord . ..'

Montrose
did not explain what he meant to the captain of the guard, but knelt
down beside his friend, head bowed, to take the limp hand and try to
pray. Pray also for the souls of the two innocent sentries, who had
all unwittingly paid the price of a thirty-year-old enormity. He knew
the story well. All who dwelt in Strathearn knew it. How Ardvorlich
on the south shore of Loch Earn had been a Drummond property, and how
the son of Stewart of Glenbuckie in Balquhidder had wed the daughter
of Drummond-Earnoch, Keeper of the royal forest of Glen Armey, and
had been given this Ardvorlich as her tocher. Dying, Drummond had
been succeeded by his son, as Keeper, and one day a marauding band of
MacGregors, poaching the forest, and who had a grudge against the
father, chanced upon the son in Glen Artney, and slew him there and
then. Satan-inspired, they cut off the dead man's head, and took it
across the hills and down to Ardvorlich House. Stewart was from home,
but his lady only temporarily out-of-doors. When she came back, it
was to find the MacGregors sitting round her kitchen-table, feeding
themselves and her brother's severed head bread and cheese. In
screaming horror she had run away, away and away, up into the empty
hills, a crazed and pregnant woman alone, wandering, out of her
mind. And there, by a lonely lochan, still known as the Loch of the
Woman, her child had been born - James Stewart. He had survived, and
indeed had grown up strong, handsome but with a strange look to his
eye, renowned for strength, temper and courage, utter disregard for
danger, waging ruthless and unrelenting war on all MacGregors.
Whenever he saw one, he killed him if he could, as he would a fly;
and all such learned to keep their distance from Loch Earnside. Half
a Drum-mond, he had joined Montrose with that party, and had been
given a company of the Athollmen. None had fought more bravely or
fiercely, or wrought more havoc, at Tippermuir, than the Mad Major.
And now - this.

Montrose
took the business hard - harder than many deemed was necessary.
Kilpont had been his especial friend and loyalest lieutenant. Save
for Black Pate, there was none closer to him. And had it not been
that he had brought his wife to share his tent with him, this would
never have happened - for Kilpont and Pate and he had always been
together hitherto, and only Magdalen's coming had caused his friends
to tent elsewhere. Had his lust, his need for his wife's woman's body
and softness, been the cause of his friend's death? The thought of it
would not leave his grieving mind.

James
Stewart did not return. Where he had gone, none knew.

Next
morning, Pate Graham, as ever master of scouts, brought the waited
news from Dundee. Any assault on the city was out of the question, he
advised. To it had gravitated all the Covenant zealots and friends of
Argyll from a wide area. Heavy cannon had been gathered in, from
Broughty Castle and elsewhere. Three shiploads of arms and
ammunition had just arrived from Leith. The place was like an
armed camp, and no amount of Graham lairdships round about would
avail against it

Montrose
was in no mind to disagree with his friend's counsel. Siegery was
foreign to his temperament anyway; and though the cannon he had
captured from Elcho would be useful on a battlefield, they were far
too light for use against a walled town. It was not by sitting down
and seeking to starve out cities that he would conquer Scotland.

They
would move north for Aberdeenshire and the Gordon country. Angus
would never rise wholeheartedly for the King with Dundee secure on
the other side.

So,
in a strangely remote, self-critical, almost harsh mood for that man,
the King's Lieutenant turned his face to the North-East. Magdalen,
troubled, had never known him like this, he who was usually so
courteously sure of himself, so unfailingly master of the situation.
His sons took it all in their stride, of course.

It
was no more than an easy two days' march to Kinnaird and Old
Montrose, achieved without opposition - but also without any influx
of support from the Angus gentry, worth mentioning. One batde
obviously did not constitute any sure foundation for success.
Approaching Kinnaird, where Magdalen and the boys were to be
dropped, his elder son John made shift to speak with his father,
apart from the others.

'My
lord Marquis,' he declared stiffly, jerkily, in most formal style.
'Request permission to speak with the King's Lieutenant-General.'

Brows
raised, his father eyed him. To be sure, Johnnie. But - you have
never sought such permission before! Is aught amiss?'

"No,
sir.' The boy coughed, but went woodenly on.
1
have
never so spoken you before, my lord. As
...
as the Lord Graham. I would rather not be named the Earl of
Kincardine, if it please you. I need not be, need I? The Lord
Graham is... better.'

Surprised,
Montrose looked at him with a new interest. 'Indeed, you are probably
right . . . my lord! There have been Lords Graham for centuries. Yes,
I think you have the rights of it, lad. The Lord Graham you shall
remain.'

"Yes,
sir. The Lord Graham means more. Always meant a deal, in Scotland. It
must do, yet. Permission, my lord Marquis, for the Lord Graham to
remain with His Grace's army.' That came out in a breathless rush.

'Mm.
So that's it! Laddie - you are only fourteen.'

'The
Lord Lewis Gordon was only
thirteen
when
he raised the Gordons! I will be fifteen soon. And I am the Lord
Graham! I have learned all that they can teach me at Kinnaird, see
you...'

'You
say so? But - your mother needs her eldest son to look after her,
Johnnie. Jamie is only eleven and Robert four - too young.'

'Mother,
and my lord of Southesk, my grandfather, say that I must go to St
Andrews. To the University. So that I will not be with my mother. And
I could not study at the University when you were fighting for the
King in Scotland. I
could
not!
Father - take me!'

Montrose
stroked his tiny beard. 'You think of war
and
glory,
adventure, lad. It is not so, believe me. In especial, civil war. It
is blood and bestiality and cruelty. Aye, and treachery too. Do not
see it as a thing fine, splendid ...'

'You
are
not cruel. Nor treacherous. You are noble - all say so. And you make
war, for the King. I am the Lord Graham, sir. I have
...
I have been too long at Kinnaird, my lord. With women. With old men.
And I do not want to go to St Andrews. If they send me there, I swear
that I shall run away! To fight for the King. As a common soldier.'
The boy was flushed now, stammering, but determined.

'So!
You would threaten, Johnnie?'

‘
No.
No - never that. But - I cannot stay at Kinnaird. Do you not
understand ? I
...
I
hate
the
Carnegies, I think! They think only of lands and properties and
marriages. My grandfather is already seeking a wife for me! I heard
him telling Mother so ...'

'He
is, is he! We must see about that, must we not?' Unwittingly,
the boy had struck the right note, now. 'Hra. Your mother would not
thank me for taking you, Johnnie.'

'My
mother knows my intention, sir. I have told her, often.'

James
Graham pondered. Magdalen had said nothing of this to him. Nor of any
going to University. And certainly not of possible marriage contracts
or betrothal. Was the boy indeed being smothered at Kinnaird? By
Carnegies? He was right, in that, indeed; the Carnegies were
concerned with the Carnegics, to be sure! But this boy was the heir
to Graham.

Young
he was, but conceivably he might have the rights of it 'I will think
of it, Johnnie,' he said.

One
night at Kinnaird, with the army camped at Old Montrose near by - one
night of his father-in-law and his brothers-in-law and their women,
decided James Graham. The Carnegies and the Grahams just did not look
at life from the same standpoint. Which might be right, the dear God
knew. They might even both be right. But their all too evident
difference of outlook must not be allowed to damage and distress his
spirited sons, at a significant and impressionable age. Magdalen
had been too long at Kinnaird. If Kincardine was too far away, and
too vulnerable in present conditions, at least she should keep her
own house again, and his, here at Old Montrose. This he would insist
upon. With separate schooling for James, Robert and little Jean, free
of the crowd of Carnegie children. And Johnnie, the Lord Graham,
would come with him, at least meantime.

Surprisingly
enough Magdalen did not take nearly so much objection to this
programme as her husband anticipated. Perhaps she had been
getting a little tired of being under the thumbs of her father,
brothers and step-mother, not being mistress of her own house;
perhaps she had been reconciled for some time to losing the spirited
Johnnie; perhaps Tippermuir, and her husband's suddenly increased
stature, had even affected herself, however little she was likely to
admit it. At any rate, her opposition was halfhearted and brief.
Montrose promised that he would look after Johnnie like a hen with
one chick, and see that he was kept out of danger, as far as in him
lay. And when the campaigning was over, he should certainly go
to St Andrews University.

On
that note they allowed the matter to rest, and permitted the
more personal concerns of their last night together to possess them.

In
the morning, the Ensign Lord Graham rode proudly northwards, as
aide-de-camp to the King's Lieutenant-General, while the Lord James
swallowed the tears which would have branded him as unfit to do
likewise. Biting her lip, the Marchioness of Montrose watched them
go.

two
days later, on the 11th of september, they had

crossed
the Mounth and were descending the empty uplands to the. Dee valley
near Banchory, with all Aberdeenshire and the Gordon lands before
them, when at the same time riders approached the long-strung-out
host from front and rear. The first was a hard-riding, gallant group,
Nathaniel Gordon of the Ardlogie sept, with thirty mounted men; and
the second was none other than the Master of Madderty, who had
escaped from his captors and come hastening after his friends. Both
brought news, and both Montrose was glad to see - even though their
tidings furrowed his brow.

Nathaniel
Gordon's adherence, even with only thirty men, was at least an augury
for the future. Montrose had been looking for large-scale Gordon
support for days. This was the very modest first of it. Nathaniel of
Ardlogie was hardly influential, however notorious. He was in fact a
wild character, even spoiling for a fight and seldom out of
trouble; but if kept under control - such as Huntly had never found
possible - he was a daring and seasoned fighter. It was not so much
his presence as the news he brought that was important. It
appeared that the Covenant army of the North-East was near by, on the
outskirts of Aberdeen itself, only some fifteen miles away. It was
under the command of the Lord Balfour of Burleigh, and he had as
lieutenants the Lords Fraser and Frcndraught - old Covenant
colleagues of Montrose at Turiff - and the younger Lord Gordon with
his brother, the still younger Lord Lewis. According to Nathaniel,
the young chief was unhappy about the entire situation, his father
having sent orders from the far North that he was not to involve the
clan in fighting on either side; in consequence he was looked on with
suspicion by practically everyone, especially Burleigh, Fraser and
the other leaders.