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Seeking
to keep his voice level, the other agreed soberly that the situation
was unsatisfactory. He would be glad to be able to call off
hostilities. But what assurance had he that if he pulled back his
forces, the great Gordon power would not once more resume an
anti-Covenant attitude?

'You
have my word,' Huntly said. 'Gordon's word!'

This
was a little awkward for the man who had insisted that
his
word
was sufficient guarantee for the security of this meeting.
“I
would
accept your word, my lord,' he said. 'But others, I fear, might be
less sure. Matters are decided, not by one man but by many, under
the Estates. I am Lieutenant-General, and in the field I command.
But I have the Field-Marshal Leslie to consider. And my Committee.
This that you suggest is policy, not tactics. And for such I must
carry a council. Such, I fear, would require more than just your
word.'

Huntly
tugged at his pointed beard. 'What? What would these require?'

Montrose
took his time. 'I think, my lord, that nothing but your signature on
the Covenant itself would satisfy them!'

Oddly
enough, Huntly was clearly less shaken by this proposal than the
other anticipated. He declared that he could not do such thing, of
course; that he could by no means put his name to a Band against the
King - but all less vehemently than might have been expected. And he
listened to Montrose's disclaimers that it was nothing such,
patiently enough. The other offered, as he had done once before, to
endorse a copy of the document especially to cover the Gordon's
loyal scruples. When Huntly questioned him on detailed wording for
this, he elatedly perceived the battle won. The Gordon was going to
sign.

There
was a copy of the Covenant in the camp at Inverurie, he informed. If
the Marquis would ride with him there- - under his personal
protection, of course - all could be done without delay, and the
peace they both sought put in train forthwith.

After
some suitable hesitation, Huntly agreed.

Unfortunately,
back at Inverurie, a party of divines had arrived from Aberdeen in
the interim, in their mission to the soldiery, and these reacted to
Huntly and his son as they might have done to the Devil in person.
There was a notable scene, with the Gordon losing his temper, and
the Graham under fire from both sides. It was with difficulty that
Montrose eventually got the precious signature, to a Covenant
copy duly endorsed to the effect that the subscriber was binding
himself in it to maintain the King's authority together with both
the liberties of Church and State, Religion and Laws - an
endorsement which the ministers at least were far from happy about,
muttering darkly anent Papists, heretics, idolators and suchlike.

Assuring
Huntly that the main step towards peace in the North-East had hereby
been taken, and the King's best interests thereby advanced, just a
little hurriedly Montrose saw the Gordons off, back to Strathbogie.
The young lord, it was, who had the last word.

'You,
my lord of Montrose, I think, are on the wrong side in this
conflict. You and the Covenant, both!' And he rode after his father.

Brows
puckered, the Graham stared after them.

The
Lieutenant-General's return to Aberdeen with Huntly's signature to
the National Covenant, and the news that Hamilton was now likely to
descend on the Forth, not the Dee, was received differently from his
anticipation. The folk of the city rejoiced, of course, as did many
others. But not the Covenant leadership there. The ministers, with
one accord, condemned the Gordon move as a mere ruse, a snare, to
trap the godly. And even if it was not, they should have no truck
with the papistical horde. Huntly was nothing better than a
deceitful limb of Satan, fit only for the consuming fires of
Hell. And Montrose was at fault, at grievous fault, in having agreed
to have any dealings with him - and, having done so, to have treated
him so gently. Vipers should be stamped upon, not nurtured, by God's
servants.

In
vain Montrose argued before his Military Committee - which was as
unmilitary a body as might be imagined. In a military situation, he
declared, other matters than ethics, dogma and theology fell to be
considered. Numbers of armed man-power, for instance, a hostile
population, available resources, supplies, sheer tactics. Of
such, as commander,
he
had
to be the judge. He appealed to Alexander Leslie, but got no help
from that hard-bitten individual, who declared that in his
experience war was fought with wits, swords and powder, until one
side was defeated - not by gentlemanly private converse between
noblemen. Had he been in Montrose's place, Huntly would now be on
his way to stand trial as rebel, in Edinburgh!

Coldly
Montrose observed that, fortunately for the good name of the
Covenant, treachery was not yet an acceptable method of gaining
their ends - a statement which, it is to be feared, turned Leslie
from somewhat contemptuous observance into implacable enmity.
But the Graham's attitude gained little support Kinghome backed him,
and the Earl Marischal; but most of his closer colleagues were away
commanding units of the army, and the preponderance of ministers on
his Committee were wholly lined up against him. They insisted that
Montrose's agreement with Huntly, Covenant-signature
notwithstanding, could not be ratified until the Gordon had appeared
in person before them, for questioning and instruction. Moreover,
declaring that Scotland was now godly and democratically
governed, they demanded that the matter be put to the vote - and
Montrose was overwhelmingly defeated. Announcing that he had never
heard of armies and campaigns being commanded thus, the Graham all
but stormed out - being persuaded to stay only by the thought that
he still might exert influence if not control. When it was passed
that Huntly and his son be summoned before the Committee forthwith,
he announced, amid uproar, that he would personally advise the
Gordons not to appear unless their safe-conduct was assured. Leslie
intervened to say that the Earl of Montrose's personal safe-conduct
was surely sufficient for any man. It was agreed that the Marquis
and son be asked to compear, at Aberdeen, to elucidate details of
the proposed armistice, on the 13th day of April.

Surprisingly,
on that day, the Gordons did come, again secretly, with Straloch and
his son, the Laird of Rothiemay.

That
was a sorry day for James Graham, one of the bitterest in his life.
Much stemmed from it; indeed nothing was ever quite the same after
it. Here he tasted humiliation, of quite another sort than had been
offered him at the Palace of Whitehall three years before, a shame
such as had never come his way hitherto. Huntly had been enticed
into a trap, baited with die Graham's given word. From the first,
the Gordon chief and his heir were treated like prisoners, their
interview with the Military Committee as appearance at the bar - but
for sentence rather than for trial. Accusations were hurled at them,
contumely, diatribes. Montrose did what he could, protested, sought
to temper the blast, appealed, raged. But it was all most evidently
arranged, organised, and he was consistently not only out-voted but
shouted down. Time and again he was on the point of marching out. He
even contemplated bringing in troops to silence these insolent
preachers and orators - but recognised in time not only that this
would assuredly end his influence in the cause to which he had set
his hand, but that in fact almost all the troops now in Aberdeen
were Leslie's Fifers, and Leslie himself was now clearly in command.
All pretence of deferring to the younger man was gone. The
Field-Marshall now was Commander-in-Chief indeed, and not concerned
to hide it More, Montrose gained the distinct impression that this
whole affair was being staged by Leslie largely to humiliate
himself.

Be
that as it may, it was very much Leslie's, and the ministers' day.
Huntly, conjuring up a strange dignity in the face of ranting, was
harried and lambasted unmercifully, the younger George Gordon
listening to all with his quiet detachment. Finally, he was told by
Leslie that, having raised his forces against the realm, he was a
traitor and without rights. That he had cost the realm dear, and
must therefore pay a large sum in recompense. That he must bring in
a number of Gordon notables as prisoners. And that he must accompany
Leslie to Edinburgh the next day.

'I
shall do none of these,' the Gordon answered, simply.

'I
say that you shall!' the Field-Marshal declared. 'We ride tomorrow.'

'I
ride,
then, only as your prisoner! And
I
remind
you that I am here under the safe-conduct of my lord of Montrose.'

That
is a matter for his lordship, not this Military Committee.'

'I
protest! Most strongly
I
protest!'
James Graham cried.
'I
have
listened to enough!
My
word stands. My lord of Huntly goes as freely as he came!
'

'I
care not how he goes, free or other! But he comes to Edinburgh with
me, the morn. That I put to this Committee. Do you wish a vote to be
taken upon it, my lord Montrose?'

The
roar of approval left no doubts as to how the vote would go.

The
matter is decided. The officers will conduct the Marquis of Huntly
and the Lord Gordon to their quarters. And attend on them well! My
lord of Montrose - as Lieutenant-General, you will return to your
force at Inverurie, to prosecute your campaign with all
address. And with increased vigour.'

'So
- you have assumed the command, sir!”
“
I
have
assumed the chief command, yes. On the instructions of the
Tables. And no' before time, I swear!'

'On
the instructions of my lord of Argyll, rather than the Tables, I
think.'

That
remarks, injudicious perhaps, fell like a stone into a sudden pool
of silence.

After
a significant pause, Leslie rapped out, ‘I declare this
meeting adjourned,' and rose to his feet

Before
the Gordons were hustled away, the young lord caught Montrose's eye.
Gravely the youngster inclined his dark head.

13

D
espite
the new
C
ommander-in-
C
hief's
orders, it was
not
long before James Graham followed Leslie south, instead of
prosecuting his campaigns in the North-East with the required
address. He was in a strange state of mind for that man, uncertain,
perplexed, unsure of himself, and with no heart for his appointed
task. He had, in fact, been struck where it hurt most - in his pride
and his honour. All men know now, he felt, that Montrose's word was
worthless - since a committee of divines and a fifty-eight-year-old
mercenary soldier could invalidate it at their will. And all men
must see him as ineffectual, Lieutenant-General in name, but
harassed and thwarted by anyone wearing ministerial black.
Perhaps it was the pride, more than the honour, that was the
principal casualty.