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The
wide, major but roiling Glen Roy now lay ahead of them, ten miles of
it, in comparative shelter, its extraordinary terraces forming
natural roads contouring both sides of it, good as even the Romans
could have made - beaches of some forgotten loch, the learned said.
Along these they could make better time, even though the soft snow
thereon was a hold-up. Half-way down that long glen they rested for
some hours, huddled in wet plaids, eating cold meat and raw oatmeal,
lighting no
fires.
Although
this was Keppoch country, Montrose was taking no chances. Keppoch
itself was only five miles ahead, where Roy reached Spean, and a warm
welcome would greet them from MacDonald, Ian Lom assured. But the
Graham would have none of it. One talebearing traitor, one
Covenant-inspired zealot, in the Spean valley, was all that would be
necessary to bring to nothing all that they were suffering, he
pointed out. One man hurrying down Spean to Lochy, to the Campbells,
and all was lost. They would cross Spcan by night, avoiding Keppoch,
however wrathful its laird might be afterwards. He was willing
to pay almost any price for the benefit of surprise.

That
they did, then, that evening, leaving the wide mouth of Glen Roy well
to the west of Keppoch, in driving rain and darkness, and fording the
raging Spean at its wide shallows a mile and more downstream, at
Goire Choillc, using a human-chain device to help numbed legs and
feet support their owners in the ice-cold waters. They turned up the
Gour Bum diereafter, in fairly thick woodland - and almost at once
ran into trouble, stumbling upon a foraging party of Campbells
already camped for the night in the shelter of the trees. Black Pate
and his advance-guard made short work of these, leaving none to flee
with the news. It was an inglorious brief interlude, the Campbells
being cut down as they rose from their plaids, given away by the glow
of their dying fires; but it had a most enheartening effect upon the
half-starved, half-frozen royalists - first blood in this contest.

On
up the Cour and Loin Bums they trudged, and into the ancient pine
forest of Lianachain, under the frowning outliers of the mighty Ben
Nevis itself - even though they saw none of it.

Dawn
found them still in the forest, with the rain ceased and die wind
dropping. They were actually crossing another watershed, but a low
one this time, no more than
500
feet
high, and tree-covered, though the pines were stunted and
wide-scattered. It was much less killing going for exhausted men -
but still desperately slow. By midday they were dropping down
into Glen Lundy - and the Lundy River ran for only four or five miles
before emptying itself into the wide Great Glen again, into the River
Lochy, only a mile or so above salt-water at the head of the great
sea-loch of Linnhe. Inverlochy lay at the junction.

Two
hours later they halted, a mile from the mouth of Glen Lundy, still
in open woodland. They had accomplished the impossible. Not even the
mighty deeds of the old Celtic sagas and legends could outdo the
achievements of the last forty hours. Montrose, dizzy with fatigue
himself, sought to praise, say his thanks - and could not

Nevertheless,
an hour later, as a murky sunset, the first such for days, was
staining the waters of Linnhe and Loch Eil, its westward arm, the
Graham and a small advance party under Black Pate, as always, reached
the last of the trees in the very mouth of Glen Lundy and gazed out
over the suddenly far-flung scene. Remaining carefully within the
shelter of the pines, they stared. Directly ahead, wide and level,
lay An Moine, the Moss, the flood-plain of the Lochy at the head of
the sea-loch. And in strong position amongst its reedy flats, die
massive walls of Inverlochy Castle rose on a grassy mound, a great
quadrangular stronghold of lofty curtain-walls and rounded
flanking-towers, antique in appearance. Semi-ruinous now, it had been
the seat of the great House of Comyn, Lords of Lochaber, home of he
whom Bruce had slain before the altar at Dumfries. The Gordons had
gained it, eventually - indeed it still belonged to Huntly; but they
did not use it, and the place was now mouldering away. But strong
still.

It
was not the castle, however, which held the Graham's interest and
concern - even though, if Ian Lorn was right, his arch-enemy might
well be even now within those crumbling walls. It was the great
camp which lay to north and east of it, amongst the scrub alder and
hazel, where scores of evening cooking-fires gleamed and sent up blue
columns into the sunset sky. He heaved a mighty sigh of relief. The
Campbell host had not moved on. Their own desperate journey had not
been in vain.

Montrose
transferred his gaze to the land itself, its lay-out, features and
scope. It was a terrain, from a military point of view, not so very
unlike that of Fyvie, though on a much greater scale. There was the
castle on its spine of firm ground, and a lot of wet and low-lying
land around, with the impassable barriers of the sea-lochs to south
and west. A strong defensive position - but this time it was not he
who would be defending it. Nor had he any desire to attack such a
position. His task was to bring the enemy to battle -but in a
position where he himself would have the maximum advantage.

He
did not dare peer for very long, in case there were keen eyes
watching from that camp, or patrols circled it Besides, the light was
failing. One matter was clear. Whatever strategic surprise he
might attain,
tactical
surprise
was impossible - at least in actual attack. For, in front of him
there was no cover or screening whatsoever. Glen Lundy opened widely
on to the fiat cattle-pastures. The moment any large force appeared
farther forward than these last trees, they would be seen. And they
had a mile of these levels to advance over before contact - unless
the enemy indeed advanced towards
them.

Thoughtfully
Montrose turned back, leaving Pate Graham, with a picket, to watch
there. A night attack might get over the problem of the approach -
but bring other and larger problems. He was handling wild and
undisciplined troops, however bold - too bold. Without being able to
see
how
the battle went, he would lie quite unable to control them or the
fighting. Night fighting might serve well enough for taking a
difficult position; but for actually defeating an enemy army so that
it would not reassemble and fight again later, it was of little use.
Men could escape in large numbers in the darkness. The attackers
would follow, and disperse themselves hopelessly. They might gain the
central position, and seeming victory - but with most of the foe
undamaged. For his present purposes Argyll had to be defeated in the
field, and lie seen to be defeated - otherwise their fine and
hard-won surprise would be wasted. And it could not be repeated.

He
had made up his mind by the time that he got back to his men, wet,
cold and hungry, round the first bend of the valley. He conveyed his
regrets to all, but they must put out those fires, and no more must
l>c lit. They were less than two miles from the Campbell host,
their presence unsuspected so far. It must remain that way. It would
be an uncomfortable night - but surely nothing to the discomforts of
the past two nights. At least thev need not flog their bodies into
movement. Tomorrow night, God aiding them, it would be
different
...

Presently
Black Pate sent a runner to announce that two mounted patrols had
left the Campbell encampment, obviously to make a circuit of the
neighbourhood to see that all was well. One was heading in this
direction. He requested instructions.

Montrose,
half-asleep already, had to think fast. If such a patrol came up this
glen any distance, it could not fail to discover them. And, mounted,
some would certainly escape back to tell the tale. At all costs that
must lie prevented. He called for Cameron of Locheil, who was still
with him - and who might be expected by the Campbells to be in the
vicinity anyway, with his home not five miles away - telling him to
take a score of his men and hurry forward to the glen-mouth. Let the
enemy discover them. Have a small clash with them, even. Then hurry
away southwards, into the Nevis foothills. Draw them away. That
should arouse no suspicions of a large force being near at hand.
Marauding Camerons, keeping an eye on the Campbell host, were
only to be expected.

Lochcil
gone, all waited tensely. An hour later another runner from Pate
Graham came to tell them that there had indeed been a tulzie at the
Lundy ford, some small swordery, and then the Camerons had fled off,
into the hills, the Campbell horse after them in full cry. None had
so far come back.

The
encampment relaxed again.

It
was near midnight when Locheil got back, grumbling at a frustrating
and shameful task. He could have ambushed the wretched Campbells more
than once, and ensured that none got back to Inverlochy to tell their
story. But that had been forbidden, and he had had to play the
feckless poltroon, leading them on into the nightbound hills. He had
left them well up the slopes of Sgurr Finnisgaig. They might conceive
the Camcrons fools and cowards - but they would not conceive an
army to be hiding near by.

Satisfied,
Montrose thanked him, and resumed his attitude of crouched and
shivering slumber. Not that he thought to sleep; too much was on his
mind.

Some
snatches of uneasy oblivion he did achieve that grim night; but long
before dawn he was fully and finally awake, and had said his daily
prayer. It was his wont to read a portion in his battered little
pocket Bible, which he had always carried everywhere with him, at die
start of each new day; but with no fires to give him light he could
not do so this dark morning. He repeated a favourite psalm to
himself, committed himself and the cause of the Lord's Anointed into
God's hands - with especial care sought for his son John - and went
to rouse the camp.

Well
before daylight all were massed at the wide mouth of Glen Lundy, in a
chill drizzle of rain. They watched the fires brighten in the great
camp a mile away, as it came alive to another day. Not a man of his
host would not have preferred to put all to the test there and then,
with no more waiting, to advance under cover of darkness and fall on
the unsuspecting foe. But it was not to be. That camp area was no
suitable battle-ground; and there were ditches and drainage-channels
in the mossy pastures between. Montrose had other plans.

When
it was light enough to see what they were doing, and the exact lie of
the land, Montrose quietly moved his people forward and some way to
the south, extending them into a long line along the skirts of the
foothills - which were in reality the first swellings of the
mightiest mountain in the land. But he did not move them too far,
either forward or southwards - and he kept almost one-third of his
numbers back, to hide them behind a long grassy, whin-covered bank,
too low to be called a ridge but sufficient to screen them from die
west and north. The line he formed with the rest was nearly half a
mile long and slightly crescent-shaped, with Colkitto and his
Ulstermcn on the right, O'Cahan, the Macleans and Islesmen on the
left, and, recessed somewhat, in the centre such Highland chiefs as
remained, with John of Moidart, Captain of Clanranald in command,
with Glengarry. The hidden reserve behind was under another
Ulster veteran. Colonel MacDonald, known for some reason as O'Neill,
with Locheil and Stewart of Appin. Who was nominally in command
of these clansmen was vitally important, since most of them would
fight under none save their own chiefs. It made dispositions
difficult for a general. The crescent-shaped front faced the Argyll
camp and the old castle, at almost a mile's distance. But midway
between, rising out of the flood-plain, was a sort of whaleback of
firmer ground, not very high admittedly, but solid and fairly wide,
with even some rock outcropping, and scattered whins. The previous
evening, Pate Graham had pointed it out to his chief as the place for
them. Montrose had merely shaken his head. He had perceived another
use for it. That was, he prayed, for the Campbells.