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His
mind made up, Montrose returned to the camp.

The
following day, therefore, with the early morning frost making
diadems of all the myriad spiders' webs that decked the
juniper-bushes of the great forest, weak still but determined, James
Graham hoisted himself into the saddle and led the way out of
Rothiemurchus, southwards. Argyll,
scouts said, was three days'
march behind, down Spey.
• • •

As
a programme of attrition it was not unsuccessful. But attrition is a
double-edged weapon, and not without effect on both sides. Fighting
men do not take kindly to continual retreat and coat-trailing -
especially when they see no end to it. And when they have lands,
farms, crofts, with wives and bairns at home, all calling them.
Alastair and his Irish were not the only ones affected.

Seeking
to keep no more than three days ahead of Argyll, Montrose led his
reduced company up Spey and into Glen Truim, with the mighty
mountains ever closing in and the forests dropping behind. And on,
over the dreich high Pass of Drumochter, the very throat of the
Highlands, and so into Atholl again. Thus far he had no real
trouble; but Atholl was home to not a few of his following, and
almost inevitably he lost men there. Nor could he find it in his
heart to blame them, and did not call it desertion; with the
Campbell coming behind, a man had every reason to prefer to be in
his own place, with his family, to protect what he could from the
avenger. Nevertheless, he did not risk proceeding much farther
south, where he might lose more, the Drummonds, the Hays, even his
own Grahams. At Dunkeld he swung off eastwards, by Butterstone and
Clunie and Blairgowrie, for Strathmore once again, always having to
slow their pace, not too greatly to outdistance Argyll. It was weary
work, with a dozen miles a day a maximum progress, and a wet autumn
turning into an early winter. At Coupar-Angus, where they had camped
five weeks before and Kilpont had died, the Earl of Kinnoull and his
Hays took their departure, despite pleas. The King's army now
numbered barely
300.

They
were close to Ogilvy country again, and Montrose feared the worst.
But instead of deserting him, the old Earl of Airlie and his two
sons found an extra fifty men, and mounted men at that, and
continued with him - warming the Graham's heart as nothing else had
done for long. It was a pity that there were not more like the
Ogilvys.

It
was galling to be so near Old Montrose, Magdalen and the children,
and not be able to visit them; but to do so would only have
endangered them when Argyll came up. He sent word to his wife to go
to Kinnaird meantime, where her father's name and standing would
presumably protect them from any Campbell reprisals. And he urged
Johnnie to return there also, now that he had sampled soldiering and
discovered it less than glorious, and his father to have feet of
clay. But the boy clung to him, seeing his sire now as deserted by
so many. All but in tears, he pleaded to be allowed to stay.
Montrose could not find it in his heart to insist-Instead of
swinging eastwards towards the sea, then, they climbed due
northwards over the Mounth again, by the same route of narrow
valleys and steep hillsides over which once he had led a hard-riding
troop to Turriff — in what seemed almost another life. They
went still more slowly now, naturally - but not nearly so slowly as
would Argyll if he chose to follow through and over these wild hills
where the larger and more heavily equipped the force the greater the
difficulties. He believed in fact that the Campbell would not
attempt it. For himself, he wanted a day or two's grace, at
Strathbogie. The young Lord Gordon there still could produce
what he himself needed above all - cavalry. The thought was seldom
out of his mind, the hordes of Gordon horse which could be raised
from the vast Aberdeenshire lowlands, literally in their thousands.
The waste of it all. They could transform his, and the King's, cause
almost overnight. Denied them through an old man's stubborn
pique and a young man's doubts. It was worth any effort, any
sacrifice, to win such prize. Even if he had to go down on his
bended knees to Huntly
...
!

By
Dee and Don, then, they came at last to Strathbogie, on the
21
st
of October, with the first snows whitening the mountaintops to the
west. The Gordons they passed looked at them askance, doubtful. At
the castle, George Gordon, solemn and old-seeming for his
twenty-four years, at the head of a swarm of brothers and sisters,
received Montrose, and his party civilly but warily. They were
welcome, he said. His father's house was theirs. But only as guests;
not as combatants, it must be understood. And where was Argyll?

Old
Airlie cursed Argyll, and by implication the Lord Gordon, and
advised that young man to let the Devil look after his own. The
King's Grace expected better than that of Gordon. But Montrose was
more careful. He conceded that they were only come as friendly
visitors, and were grateful indeed for any hospitality Gordon might
furnish them, after weeks in the heather. Argyll was far behind, and
was not likely to try conclusions with Gordon in Gordon country.

Huntly,
it seemed, was still discreetly absent in the far North. And the
impetuous Lord Lewis, now nineteen, remained with the Covenant
forces of the North-East, somewhere in Buchan. Aboync, of
course, was still in England, fighting for the King. The remainder
of the brood were here, and although six years older than on
Montrose's first visit, were as noisy, untidy and unruly as ever.

Later,
after a chaotic meal, protracted, with a piper strutting up and
down the hall, blowing lustily the while, children shouting,
dogs barking, and the general chaos which seemed endemic to this
establishment even when its master was not present, when he could
get George Gordon alone and in quiet, James Graham put the matter to
him straightforwardly.

'Once,
you told me that you were the King's man,' he said. 'And now the
King's cause suffers hurt for lack of horsed men. You can supply
such horsed men. By the thousand. And do not.'

'Not
I, my lord Marquis. My father.'

‘
Your
father is as good as abdicate. He has left his clan in your hands.
Yours must be the decision, now.'

'No!
Who am I to go against my father's expressed wishes, in this? To put
hundreds, thousands, of men's lives at risk? For a doubtful cause.'

"Your
liege lord's cause, my friend.'

‘
Once,
my lord, you said to
me
that
our liege lord, having chosen bad counsellors, fell to be shown the
error of his ways. That God's cause was higher than the King's.'

'Aye.
You do well to remind me. I said it, and meant it. And still hold to
it. But, under Archibald Campbell and the fanatic preachers, God's
cause has been perverted, shamefully betrayed. The King is
still the Lord's Annointed. He gave in to all the Covenant's fair
and legitimate demands. And to more. I lis cause is now God's
cause.'

'Many
in Scotland think otherwise,' the younger man said.

‘
No
doubt. But when has Gordon - or Graham - acted on the thoughts of
others? Think for yourself, my friend.'

Think
you I have not thought a-plenty!' the other cried, his unnatural
calm cracking. 'It is not as / think - but as my father thinks. He
it is who commands, not I.'

'He
has left you in the rule of the clan. Himself prefers to bide afar
off.'

"No.
My father is still chief of Gordon. Wherever he is.
I
only
act for him. And he has said that no Gordon shall be lent to the
Marquis of Montrose, my lord. That is his express command.'

'But
- he is the King's man. Ever has been. He boasts of it. He does not
love me, no - and perhaps with reason. But he loves Charles Stewart.
Will he sacrifice the King for his hate of
me?'

'He
holds that you are not the King's friend, or ever have been.'

'I
am the King's Lieutenant-General. Hold his royal commission.'

'He
also holds the King's commission. As Lieutenant of the North.'

'Then
should he not be fighting for the King? Using his Gordon host in the
royal cause? See you - it need not be used
under
myself.
I care not who commands the Gordons - so long as they fight for the
King.
You
lead
them, my friend. I will give you commission as a major-general. An
independent command. Be your own master. Do not serve under me.
But co-operate with me, for the King's sake.'

Nibbling
his lip, George Gordon shook his head unhappily. 'It is not
possible, my lord. I would it were. I would fight with you, serve
under you. Gladly. But I will not go deliberately counter to my
father's wishes. Would you have
your
son
do so?'

It
was Montrose's turn to hesitate. 'No-o-o,' he admitted, at length.
'I would not. But, nor would I divorce myself from my
responsibilities, and leave my son to face them. With his hands
tied. That I would not.'

The
other said nothing.

'See
you,' James Graham went on again, urgently, 'the King's cause
requires your cavalry more than anything. I ask you, in God's good
name muster your men. If you will not serve with me, or independent
of me - at least have them muster. Argyll will not know what you
intend. Will go warily. Give him pause - and me time. Though you do
not strike a single blow, will you do this, my friend? Not for me -
for Charles Stewart?'

'I
...
I do not know.
I
shall
have to think on it. My father would not have it so - that I
do
know...'

'Think,
then. Remembering what the King's Grace will expect of Gordon, in
his hour of need. Seek the advice of your lairds, if you will.
Straloch, your father's chamberlain. Consult your conscience, above
all. I will wait...'

Montrose
waited at Strathbogie for three days, not in the castle but in camp
with his men. In that time a few Gordon lairds came to him, offering
support - but not the Lord Gordon. They were all small men, and
welcomed gladly, with Nadianiel Gordon active in persuading them,
some kinsmen of his own. But their offerings did not increase his
strength by
200
all
told, and less than a quarter of that horsed. The large lairds, with
die mounted followings, awaited their lord's commands.

Then,
on the
24th
of
October, the Graham could wait no longer. Word was brought that
Argyll was nearer than he had anticipated, less than two days' march
away. Worse, this unaccustomed speed was accounted for by the fact
that he had been reinforced by no less than fourteen troops of
regular cavalry under Montrose's own old lieutenant, the Earl
Marischal, who remained loyal to the Covenant, and had been sent
north by Leslie, with the Committee of Estates adding the Earl of
Lothian as second-in-command in case the Marischal should fail in
his duty. The royalist irritation, obviously, was to be disposed of,
and quickly. And William Keith, the Marischal, had always been a
hot-tempered, hasty young man.