‘God!’
‘They didn’t get him.’
‘Why not?’
‘I shot him first.’
Annabella said nothing and after a while Nancy gave a bitter laugh.
‘They thought Calum must have been kidnapping me and carrying me off and their arrival gave me my chance of freedom. I suppose if they hadn’t thought that they would have raped me, then killed me. I saw plenty of women on my way back left lying dead in all sorts of indecent positions. Bloody English savages!’
‘It wasn’t just the English,’ Annabella said. ‘You saw the Scots regiments on Cumberland’s side on the field and I’m damned sure you’ve seen them roaming around the countryside as well.’
‘Bloody traitors of Campbells.’
‘It wasn’t just the Campbells either.’
‘Are you trying to excuse what they’ve done?’
‘Don’t be a bloody fool. What happened at Culloden will always be inexcusable and what’s been happening after is worse. What I’m saying is that all men are obviously capable of the most monstrous evil if they’re given the chance and encouraged to it. And women too. Even children.’
‘You’re thinking of Regina.’
‘Yes, I’m thinking of Regina.’
‘Tormenting yourself with thoughts of the beggar girl won’t bring anybody back or change anything. The person I blame for this whole tragic mess is his bloody Italian Highness. What right had he to come over here and stir up trouble and cause so many poor folk to be killed just because he wanted power?’
‘He had courage.’
‘Oh, had he! I’m not so sure. I noticed he was always at the rear in the battles. Oh, I know he marched ahead all the time on the way down to England. Oh, he was a great lad then. But when he was thwarted and had to turn back he was huffy and acted like a spoiled brat. He dragged behind and did all sorts of awkward perverse things that could have endangered the men. And as I say, in battles he was all right. He always had his lifeguards or his Irish around him for protection.’
‘Hell and damnation, Nancy. I’m no Jacobite. Everybody knows that. But I hope I’m honest enough and fair enough to give credit where credit’s due. When the Pretender came over here he had only a handful of men.’
‘I know. But he was brought up to believe this was what he was meant to do. He believed he had a divine right to come here so that he could eventually lord it in St James’s Palace. What did he care how many good Scotsmen he sacrificed in order to get himself and his father there?’
‘That’s still no reason to question his courage. He had courage I tell you!’
‘To bloody hell with courage then. A lot of damn good it did anybody, including himself.’
Annabella sighed.
‘I suppose you’re right.’ She was silent for a spell, then she said: ‘I’ll never forget it, Nancy, will you? I don’t mean Jean-Paul and Calum. That goes without saying. But the whole monstrous business. I feel sick to my soul. The evil, the cruelty, the carnage, the complete lack of pity, never fades even in my sleep. I try to command such thoughts to leave me in peace, but they refuse to be banished. My mind’s saturated with the blood of it all. I believe that no matter where I am after this, or what I’m thinking about, or looking at, it will always be through a stained-glass window of suffering in the Highlands.’
Detecting a crack in Annabella’s voice, Nancy said:
‘We’re both tired. Let’s stop here and rest. We’ll find a dry place and you can sleep or just relax and admire the sunrise. Look how beautiful it is already. Calum told me how he used to love to watch the dawn. His home was in a glen and it was especially beautiful in winter. He said the hills and glens were more colourful then.’ Nancy was looking at Annabella yet a curtain of sadness blacked out sight. ‘The mountain peaks were white, but the hillsides were all different shades. Reddish brown and copper and rust and orange and yellow and navy blue and purple. In winter there was a special dewy lushness. And the trees were silver-green. He said it was so peaceful. A world on its own.’
Annabella touched her arm.
‘I’m sorry. Truly I am.’
Nancy nodded, then moved away to secure the horse to a bush.
‘This place seems dry enough. Try to get some sleep. There’s no hurry now. It doesn’t matter if we don’t get into Glasgow until afternoon.’
The two women curled down close to one another and lay wide-eyed listening to the small rustlings and whisperings all around them and high above the first careless song of the birds.
After the auction Ramsay paraded the plainstanes talking to his friends William Halyburton, the Provost Andrew Cochrane and the Earl of Locheid. The Earl of Glendinny had bustled home to his new bride. The men, as was customary, passed the statue on the right when going westward and in reverse order when walking eastward.
The Earl of Locheid, the owner of the tenement in which Halyburton lived, was a man in his seventies, as tall as Halyburton but as skinny and pinched-looking as his friend was fleshy and robust. Yet for all his long languorous appearance, Locheid enjoyed life. Albeit in a canny way. He laughed but cautiously, with lips tightly closed and shoulders screwed in to repress a hiccuping chest. He fornicated but did so with a certain reserve and always took a hot toddy afterwards to counteract any harmful effects of excitement. He enjoyed his food but was pernickety with it. He appreciated a dram but was careful to instruct a servant to be at hand at all times to loosen his cravat in case he choked. And rather than risk, like his colleagues when in their cups, sprawling under the table to be at the mercy of draughts and rats, he always had two servants ready with a long pole to slide through the arms of his chair and lift him away, still holding himself neatly together, until he was tucked safely in bed.
‘Mm-hm.’ He minced his words and chewed them over as if determined to hang on to them as long as possible. ‘There’s mm-hm going to be mm-hm, a celebration for the Duke’s victory at Culloden I hear, mm-hm-hm-mm.’
‘Aye,’ Ramsay agreed, but absent-mindedly. ‘Thank God it’s a’ over and done with.’
‘Mm-hm. If ye ask me, hm-mm, Heelanders are nothing, hmmm, but trouble. Always have been, hm-hm. Cattle thieves. Hm-hm. Bandits. Mm-hm. Bitter, vengeful folks tae. Mm-hm. Never forgive a grudge between clans. Mm-hm. Always fighting between themselves. Mm-hm. Terrible folk!’
Halyburton loudly trumpeted his agreement.
‘Ye’re right, Locheid. Yer quite right. And just think what it might have been like if folks like that had got the better o’ us.’
‘While I agree with what you say, gentlemen,’ Andrew Cochrane thoughtfully fingered his gold-topped Malacca cane, ‘I think we must admit that the rebel army was civil enough while it was here.’
‘Oh, aye,’ said Ramsay, stung into giving his full attention. ‘Oh, aye, they robbed us but they were verra civil aboot it!’ The Provost sighed.
‘I suppose we’ll get scant else but polite acknowledgements from the English government in reply to my letters informing them of our grievances. I fear no cash will be paid unless we go down to London and press our case for compensation to the King himself.’
Trongate Street, yellow with sunlight, was gradually emptying of people. A lumbering coach drawn by six black horses and crowded with gentlemen began creaking away. The musical bells of the Tolbooth clock and the Tron Church steeple sang in chorus like cascading water tumbling down the warm sunny air.
The four men pulled out their gold watches, checked the time, then tucked them away again before bidding each other goodbye and making for home.
The first thing Ramsay asked when Big John opened the door was:
‘Is she back yet?’
‘No,’ said Big John. ‘And Nancy’s no’ back either.’
Ramsay’s jaw clamped forward. ‘Is this no’ damnable? It’s whipped through the toon they need.’
‘Did ye see Captain Kilfuddy and Captain Daidles?’
‘No.’
‘They said no’ to worry, they’l
l be up again. They’ve just gone doon to the tavern.’
‘Oh, I’m no’ worried about them. They’ll no stray far when there’s celebrations to join in.’
Big John turned miserably away.
‘We’ve no’ much to celebrate, have we?’
‘Trust in the Lord, man,’ Ramsay irritably commanded. ‘Trust in the Lord. If it’s God’s will to bring the damned women back, He’ll bring them back. If it’s no’, He’ll no’. And that’s a’ aboot it.’
24
THE CELEBRATION day began with an early-morning thanksgiving service.
Ramsay went to church on horseback and commanded Big John and Gav to accompany him, also on horseback.
‘You may as well get used to a bit o’ riding, Gav,’ he said. ‘There’s long distances to cover in Virginia and to be a good horse rider is verra important.’
He strode from the house in front of Gav and knocked aside all the vagrants on the stairs, including Quin. Quin dodged about after them in great agitation. Gav felt irritated both at Quin and the pity he felt for him. He wished he would just go away and leave him in peace. Yet mixed with these feelings was the fear that he might still be glad of him.
‘I can’t see you just now,’ he hissed in passing. ‘I’ve got to go to church. You’d better be careful the bailies don’t catch you. You’re supposed to be banished.’
While they were saddling up the horses, he caught glimpses of Quin’s grotesque face bobbing up from behind walls, jerking out from the sides of closes and screwing round corners.
Riding past on a horse that was too big for him and needed all his attention, he impatiently signalled for Quin to get out of the way. But he knew that he was still following all along the road to the church.
During the service Gav kept seeing Quin’s gargoyle face in his mind’s eye and could not properly concentrate on what the minister was saying. Only snatches reached him like unexpected waves of sound surging in, then receding.
‘O Lord, Lord!’ cried the Reverend Blackadder. ‘We thank Thee for safe deliverance from manifold perils … Tammas McKay, what have you got yer hat on for in the kirk? If yer bare pow’s cauld, just get a good grey worset wig. They’re no’ so dear and there’s plenty o’ them at Bob Gordon’s for tenpence … Aye, Lord, we thank Ye for demolishing oor enemies. Aye, and we’ll be ready to demolish the deevil.’ Blackadder suddenly assumed the position of one aiming a pistol and made a loud noise like a shot. ‘We’ll shoot him wi’ the gun o’ the gospel and doon he’ll come like a dead crow. But, freends,’ he leaned forward over the pulpit. ‘Unless ye a’ repent yer sins, ye’ll a’ perish.’ At that moment a fly alighted on the open Bible in front of him and Blackadder’s eyes gleamed. ‘Aye, freends, ye’ll a’ perish just as surely as I’m going to ding the guts oot o’ that big blue fly that’s landed on my Bible.’ His clenched fist crashed down with all his might, but the fly got away and he roared. ‘Would ye believe it? There’s a chance for ye yet!’
After the service everyone went for a leisurely stroll or a ride on Glasgow Green. Recently there had been a warning notice about gentlemen who sent their servants to exercise their horses on the Green. The notice said that gentlemen should not allow their servants to ride in such crowds and at such speed as the quantities of dust dispersed by the horses were ruining the bleachfields. Also the lives of the inhabitants from the number and fury of the rides had often been in danger.
But on this pleasant sunny day no one was in any hurry. Ladies paraded in their long waisted gowns and hooped skirts, arching round the Green like a shimmering rainbow. Some young women wore silken plaids. Many older ladies still clung to the fashion of wearing lace ‘screens’ or mantillas gracefully draped over their heads. Others favoured wig decorations of long curling feathers or beads or bows or brooches or a mixture of all of these things. Their male companions vied with them in peacock splendour in their different patterns and colours of silk and satin and velvet.
Ramsay cantered past his son Douglas and noticed he was dressed with even more style than usual. He sported bright pink satin damask embroidered in green and gold. He carried a muff and had long ribbons fluttering from each wrist. His wife swept along by his side with her head in the air and their maid walked behind them carrying the new baby. Both Douglas and Griselle seemed very stiff-faced and anything but happy. Ramsay wondered if they had been quarrelling. However, he did not stop to find out. In fact, after favouring them with only a curt sign of recognition, he encouraged his horse into a trot and soon left them far behind. He was impatient to get back to the house. He regretted having brought both servants with him. It was only right and proper that they should have had the spiritual benefits of the Reverend Blackadder’s sermon but afterwards somebody should have stayed in the house in case Annabella came.
But when they all returned she was still not there.
The celebrations were getting under way. Fiddlers were beginning to play in the streets. The atmosphere was quickening. Bells were being rung.
‘Aye, lads,’ Ramsay addressed Big John and Gav, ‘ye’ll be wanting to go out and join in a’ the excitement, I suppose.’
Gav agreed but without much enthusiasm. It was not the celebrations he was thinking about. Decisions had to be made and the future settled once and for all. He needed to talk to both Regina and Quin.
Big John gloomily shook his head. ‘I’ll wait here for Nancy.’
‘Aye, weel, on you go, Gav. But be careful and no’ be getting drunk or into any trouble. My ships will be sailing verra soon and I’m expecting you to be ready to leave on one of them.’
Regina was lodging in a tavern in Saltmarket Street, the same one in which Cameron of Lochiel had stayed in while the Highland army had been in Glasgow. Gav determined to make for there first and discuss with her what ought to be done. But again Quin accosted him on the stairs.
Gav sighed.
‘I wish you’d leave me alone just now. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to Regina—or Reggie, as she says we’ve to call her now. She’s in terrible trouble.’
‘Oh-ho—Reggie looked in fine fettle to Quin.’
‘She’s afraid of Mistress Annabella finding her. That’s why she’s pretending she’s a lad. She says she’s stolen all those clothes and things, but worse,’ he hesitated and could hardly lift his gaze to meet Quin, ‘she had the mistress’s Frenchie killed.’
‘Oh-ho, now there’ll be fun, eh?’
‘What would Mistress Annabella do to her, Quin?’
‘March her over to the Tolbooth to be hangit. Or kill her herself. Aye, Quin thinks that Mistress Annabella would kill Reggie herself and no’ be very dainty aboot it either.’
‘I’m going to talk to Regin … Reggie now.’
‘Quin’s coming.’
‘It’s too dangerous for you. You’ll be hanged too if you’re seen.’
‘Quin’ll dodge aboot.’
In exasperation Gav stamped away.
In the tavern Regina was sitting near the door with a stoup of ale and when she saw Quin hovering behind Gav she said:
‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Look, Reg … Reggie, we’ll have to decide what’s to be done.
Regina finished up her ale and swaggered out. ‘With him?’
‘With us all. The maister’s ships are due to sail any day and I’m supposed to be on one of them.’
Quin’s head cocked to one side and his face screwed up as he followed them along Saltmarket Street and round by the Cross.
‘Quin’s no’ verra pleased.’
Ignoring him, Gav continued to address Regina: ‘Could you not come with me? You don’t need to go as an indentured servant. If you’ve plenty of money as you say, you could pay for your own passage to Virginia. Then at least we’d be together.’
‘What would I do in Virginia?’
‘I don’t know, but surely there would be something. Maister Ramsay’s got stores.’
‘Quin’s no’ verra pleased.’
Regina turned on him. ‘Go away! We don’t want you any more.’
‘But Quin’s yer faither!’
Gav put a hand on Quin’s arm and was distressed to discover it was violently trembling.
‘We’re just worried in case the bailies see you, Quin. Away you go outside the town until it’s dark. Tonight or tomorrow morning, whenever I can, I’ll come down the stairs with something for you to eat and maybe some money.’
‘Quin’s no’ verra pleased.’
‘Go on. I don’t want you to get hanged.’
He trotted away rubbing his ear and his hair spiking out.
Gav said: ‘You didn’t need to be nasty to him.’
‘Oh, who cares about that freak?’
‘I do.’
She shrugged and turned her attention to the noisy crowds now thronging round the Cross and along Trongate Street. On the landing of the outside stairs some of the magistrates were raising their glasses in a toast to the victors, but so great was the noise of revelry all around that no one could hear a word they shouted. Bells pealed, fiddles scraped, pipes skirled, people screeched and danced and laughed and drank and skittered delightedly about. Then to add to the hullabaloo there came a deafening discharge of muskets from a detachment of the town’s regiment.
Approaching the town from the western side, Annabella and Nancy heard the uproar and could not imagine what the cause might be. Nancy had dismounted and was walking alongside Annabella, who sat astride the horse. As they plodded along the country lane nearer and nearer the Shawfield Mansion and the beginnings of the Trongate, they could not believe their eyes and ears.
‘Gracious heavens!’ Annabella gasped. ‘Have they all gone stark raving mad?’
Noise filled the air, deafened, stunned them. Every person in Glasgow it seemed had completely abandoned restraint and decorum. Even Letitia Halyburton was out dancing in the streets. Then Annabella’s attention was caught by a figure sitting alone on the road close to the wall of the Shawfield Mansion. He was hugging his knees and hiding his face down in his lap.
‘Quin?’ Annabella shouted. ‘Is that Quin?’
The Tobacco Lords Trilogy Page 30