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These
dispositions taken, the Graham faced south along the loch-shore.

Loch
Awe-side was rich, fertile, long-settled and sheltered territory,
highly populous. The loch lay in a north-easterly and south-westerly
direction, averaging just under a mile in width. On the eastern side,
the access to Loch Fyne area was by a small pass some six miles
onward and so down Glen Aray to Inveraray itself, nine miles. But
that was the way any attack would be expected to come, and almost
certainly it would be kept well guarded. A much less convenient
approach was to the north, across high boggy trackless moors to the
headwaters of the Shira River, and so down its long waterlogged glen
to Fyne. In normal conditions this would be almost impassable for any
large body of men, however agile. But with the country frozen solid,
it almost certainly could be done. Colkitto, with
500
of
the toughest men, would attempt it. But there was still another way
over into Loch Fyne-side, almost equally awkward. This entailed
proceeding two-thirds of the way up Loch Aweside, to a place
called Durran, from which a steep and difficult bridle-path struck
off up over the intervening range, eventually to descend into
Fyne-side some seven miles below Inveraray, also traversing undrained
and evil uplands. This would be Montrose's own route, with the main
body.

But
there was still another factor to be taken into account The
west
side
of Loch Awe was also ferdle, if somewhat less populous, and would
have to be taken care of likewise if warning was not to be sent to
Inveraray by boat up the loch and then over the hill. Moreover away
beyond the head of Awe, the coastal lands of Kilmichael and Kilmartin
were densely populated, and could raise thousands of men, who could
come up Lord Fyne from its foot, if warned or summoned. The fact
was that this whole area, aroused, could produce
10,000
men
in a couple of days, and fierce fighters, defending their homes. This
must be avoided at all costs. So the veteran John of Moidart, Captain
of Clanranald, the most experienced in war of the Highland chiefs,
would take another
500,
and
attend to the west side of Awe, making sure that there was no
burning, to send smoke columns of warning high into the still air;
and thereafter proceed over into the coastal plain to the south, to
block any reinforcement of the central Inveraray citadel from
thence.

So
the three divisions parted company, with Montrose himself still
commanding the best part of
2000
men.
Before him, along the eastern lochside, he sent a swift advance party
of
300,
under
Magnus O'Cahan, with instructions to do no fighting but only to seal
off any routes and tracks over the hills south-westwards, so that no
warnings should go ahead of them; and especially to hold the point,
at this Durran, where the main body would branch off, seventeen miles
ahead. No Campbells were to climb up on to those intervening
hilltops, to light warning beacons or smoke-signals.

It
was midday as they moved off, with a bare five hours of daylight left
to them, and vast mileages to cover. Despite the temptations of fat
Campbell houses, farms and townships, for Highlandmen with old scores
to settle and booty to be won, Montrose was adamant that there should
be no harrying and time-wasting. And certainly no burnings. All
that could wait. They had richer targets ahead. Fortunately, and
advisedly, he had got rid of most of die high-born Highland
firebrands, with Colkitto, who might have felt it incumbent upon them
to demonstrate that they took orders from no Lowland lord, even
though he called himself
An
Greumach Mor
.

They
made good time up Loch Awe-side then, despite the grumbling, with die
Campbell population prudently keeping out of the way, cowering behind
their doors and walls, fleeing discreetly into woods and
ravines, as well they might, and putting up no useless resistance at
this stage. It was a green and pleasant land, and ripe for spoiling,
all agreed. But they would be back. There was no snow down here,
almost at sea-level; but the frost remained hard as ever.

Montrose's
eyes tended to look across the loch almost as much as forward. Two
things he feared from
there
-
smoke from undisciplined burnings, and boats setting off up-loch to
bear grim tidings. But neither materialised. John of Moidart knew his
task, and was authoritative enough to have his men well in hand.

The
early dusk found them half-way up the long loch; but there was to be
no halting this night. On they pressed, and presently a thin sliver
of moon rose above the south-westerly hills slightly to light their
way, and to glisten chilly on the sparkling frost. Montrose sent word
that the older and less able could go slow if they would. Stop if
they must. But the main force must keep going through the night. None
would hear of hanging back, however, with old Airlie and young
Johnnie as examples - both insistent that they were good for another
ten miles at least Montrose worried a little about these two. His son
was looking thin, these days - as indeed were they all - but with
dark rings to his blue eyes, and a cough which, though not deep,
seldom left him. He certainly never complained, and seemed to have
ample energy, never flagging. But a father's anxiety was not to be
quenched entirely. As for the old Earl, for whom the Graham had
acquired a great regard, even affection, he was clearly being taxed
to the utmost. He frequently fell asleep at the briefest halt, and
collapsed of an evening into a kind of stupor.

At
about
8
p.m.,
three hours after dark, they came up with O'Cahan, and a picket, at
Durran, near the loch-shore. He had been awaiting them for hours, of
course - but not altogether idly. He had sent most of his men over
the bridlepath, to hold the high ground. Some were ahead,
farther up the lochside. And others were just back, in a purloined
boat, from a visit across the loch to see how John of Moidart was
getting on. Their report was encouraging. Clanranald was almost level
with this point, and going strong. He would be rounding the head of
the loch by midnight. No boats nor messengers had eluded him, at
least during daylight.

To
take a host of almost
2000,
in
darkness over a
1200
-foot
ascent, by a narrow drove road in a rockbound land was a
nightmare-proceeding almost beyond contemplation. The ascent, their
guide told them - one Black Angus of the Glencoe Maclans - was over
two miles long. Then there was three miles of lochan-pocked peat
plateau to cover, and the descent of another two miles to Loch Fyne.
Only the hard-frozen state of the land made it at all possible. But
if one man could do it, Montrose declared, so could
2000.
Given
time.

It
took them, in fact, over six grievous desperate hours, the stumbling
across the terribly broken if iron-hard peat-hags of the high plateau
quite the direst part of it. But by two-thirty in the morning, most
of the now mile-long straggling column was down at salt-water,
on the shores of the longest sea-loch in Scotland, at Inverleacann,
seven miles south of Inveraray. At last, Montrose called a halt.
Three hours for rest, he said. He had told Colkitto that he would
look for him at the other side of Inveraray, at sunrise.

By
6
a.m.
they were on the move again, half-asleep on their feet, cold beef,
raw oatmeal and as raw whisky in their stomachs. Fyne-side was less
densely populated hereabouts than was Aweside, but even so the
passing of such a host could not go unnoticed, even in the darkness,
with dogs to give tongue at every farmstead. Occasionally there were
cries of men. Whether any raced ahead to warn Inveraray there was no
means of knowing. Boats might well be launched on the dark loch to
carry the news. That could not be helped.

Dawn
of another cold, clear day found them at Dalchenna Point three miles
south of their objective. They were on time - and so far they had not
had even to draw sword.

Then,
presently, ahead of them, distant, faint but clear, they heard the
sound of bagpipes on the north-easterly air, many bagpipes,
shrilling, ebbing and flowing.

Even
as his heart lifted to the sound, Montrose frowned. That could only
be Colkitto and the Clan Donald chieftains. None other would blow
martial music before sunrise on a winter morning on Loch Fyne-side.
The MacDonalds were
ahead
of
time, then, not hiding their presence, and presumably not
waiting.

It
scarcely required the Graham to urge his weary host to greater speed.
All perceived the situation. Practically at the run now they surged
on northwards.

Rounding
an intervening headland„of the loch they saw their goal at
last, capital of the Campbell's kingdom, a town of whitewashed houses
and church spires, with the massive tall castle rising behind and
above all. The blue smoke of morning fires was rising from hundreds
of chimneys there. Down at the double jetties, fleets of boats lay
moored.
MacCailean
Mor's
great
banner flapped lazily from the castle's topmost tower in the light
breeze.

But
even as they stared, two developments became evident Black smoke,
thick and billowing, began to rise amongst the blue, and across the
still waters of the loch shouts and screams and the clash of steel
came clearly though the shrilling of the pipes. And out from the
cluster of shipping suddenly shot a large many-oared craft, with a
covered canopy at the stern, to set a course down-loch at impressive
speed, alone.

'Himself!'
Black Angus, the guide, at Montrose's side, cried, poindng. 'The
Campbell, whatever! The forsworn, devil-damned craven himself!'

"You
mean
...
? You mean
...
?'

'Aye
- by Christ God, I swear it! That is
MacCalean
Mor's
own
galley. None other like it, see you. He flees, the dastard - he
flees, leaving all.'

Montrose
shook his head, wordless. There was neither glee nor scorn in his
mind, any more than satisfaction. Rather a sort of pang and anxiety.
Would he ever succeed against this man, he wondered? For to fight a
man adequately, one had to understand him. And he did not. He just
did not know how Archibald Campbell's mind worked. And that, he was
well aware, was highly dangerous. They raced on to the town.

There
was little to be done there - save to restrain the MacDonalds' savage
ire. Half of the houses seemed already to be ablaze. Colkitto had
pressed on, to the castle - whether or not he had guessed the
significance of that fleeing galley.