‘He doesn't expect it, Sabina,' Mavis said. 'Do make yourself calm, or you will curdle your milk, and the baby will be sick. Allan, you had better go and direct them in here, with as little noise as possible. We don't want to attract the attention of the neighbours, though thank God we are well away from the road here.’
Allan took his departure gratefully, and Mavis turned to Sabina. 'I have never before had to remind you that this house belongs to me, in trust for my daughter, and I hope it is not necessary now. Allan will bring the men in, and we will do what we can for them. I don't understand why you are being so difficult.'
‘It's all so ridiculous and undignified,' Sabina grumbled. 'We fly from Birnie at great inconvenience to ourselves, and travel across country in ridiculous disguises,' already she had forgotten her pleasure in them, 'solely so that Allan will feel free to go and join General Mar at Perth, and hardly are we here but he turns up on the doorstep. It is ridiculous. What are they doing here anyway?'
‘We cannot know their plans. Perhaps they are going to attack Edinburgh.'
‘Well, perhaps they are,' Sabina said, mollified. ‘Whatever their plan, it is for us to aid them.'
‘Yes, you're right. Sensible Mavis. Come then, let us go and see what we have.' Sabina's moods and poses never lasted long. Now she was being brisk and efficient, the loyal soldier's wife. Mavis sighed and wondered what would be next.
On the afternoon of the thirteenth General Mackintosh moved out the assembled men to Haddington, to make room for the second night's contingent. Allan remained behind to help with the landing and he and his womenfolk watched from the shore with their hearts in their mouths as the great ships bore down on the little boats. They could not remain to watch the whole drama, for soon the men were coming ashore and the women had to go back to the house to succour them, but later when the flood of men had ceased they went back to the rocky promentory to look out. In the beginnings of dawn they could just see, beyond the great ships, the tiny dots of the small boats that had been turned back.
‘Lord Chelmsford must be on one of them,' Allan said. 'I pray God they get back safely.’
At least the ships have gone away,' Sabina said. 'It was frightening when they bore down on us towards the shore.'
‘They couldn't come in very close. We were safe enough,' Mavis said. 'I suppose you must go away now, Allan?'
‘Yes, I must take these men to join General Mackintosh at Haddington,' he said, but his expression was thoughtful. The ships had come close enough to see where the men had been landed, and the news would probably be relayed to the enemy at the garrison in Edinburgh. Aberlady itself might become a target. 'You must leave here as soon as we are gone,' he said abruptly. 'You may be in danger. I think the best thing would be for you to go to Morland Place. You would be safe enough there.’
Sabina opened her mouth to protest, but Mavis put a hand on her arm and silenced her.
‘Very well, Allan, we will do as you say,' Mavis said quietly. Allan looked relieved.
‘I think now that I have not acted for the best in allowing this house to be used. I may have placed you in danger. But if it is known that the house is empty, I expect they will not trouble with it, and we can come back here safely, when all this is over.'
‘You need not worry about us. You may put all your energies into the task before you,' Mavis said firmly. In the early hours of the Friday morning, 14 October, Allan embraced his wife and Mavis, kissed the children, placed a hand in blessing on little Allen's head, and marched away with the last of the men towards Haddington. The women went back into the house to prepare for their second flight; but, as the day went on, it became plain that Sabina was not well. She tried to hide it at first, but by the afternoon she was flushed with fever and seized by fits of uncontrollable shivering; as dusk drew in she made no protest when Mavis put her to bed, and it was clear that they would not be able to move on until the fever had passed
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Allan Macallan had thought, like everyone else, that as soon as they were all gathered together, they would march south to join up with the Borderers, who had been expected to 'come out' at the same time as they made their crossing. But as soon as it was light on that Friday, 14 October, Old Borlum formed them up and gave the order for a brisk march on Edinburgh.
‘What's he up to?' a fellow captain asked of Allan peevishly. 'We haven't a hope of taking Edinburgh, the few of us, with no ordinance.'
‘I don't know,' Allan said. 'Is it likely that Old Borlum would act on his own initiative over something as important as this?'
‘Old Borlum would do that in the gates of hell,' the captain said with a kind of sour respect. 'He's a dour old creature, and doesn't think much of any flighty young lord under the age of sixty. But we can't take Edinburgh. Is he hoping to frighten them to death?'
‘Perhaps he thinks they'll surrender. After all, there must be plenty in Edinburgh who hate the Union and have no love for the Elector. If they see us coming, maybe they'll open the gates and march out and join us.'
‘Well, one thing is sure, if we did have Edinburgh our problems would be solved,' the captain said. 'Arms, money, cannon, everything we needed.'
‘And it would cut Argyll off from the south,' Allan said.
In the early afternoon they came in sight of the city, and halted about a mile from the walls, but there was no sign of anyone coming out to meet them.
‘Perhaps they haven't seen us yet,' Allan said hopefully. The captain sniffed pessimistically.
‘Not them! Look, over there, and there - they're bringing up shot for the cannon. They don't mean to give in, damn them. They're preparing to defend.’
They stood for about an hour in the thin October sun, and then General Mackintosh gave the order to turn north and march for Leith, Edinburgh's port, and it was evident that whatever help Old Borlum had expected of Edinburgh, it had not materialized. But there was plenty for them to do in Leith. The Town Guard came out, looking nervous and defiant, but in the face of so many men they could do nothing but lay down their arms. Allan was then sent with a handful of men to the Tolbooth jail to release the forty men who had been captured on the second crossing and bring them to join their ranks again. Then they seized the Custom House, where a great many provisions were stored, and also, unfortunately for discipline, a great deal of brandy.
‘We'll never keep them to anything once they start opening those bottles,' Allan said in despair. But there was plenty to do to keep the men occupied for the time being. They took over the Old Citadel, a disused fortress built for the defence of Leith city, and set about fortifying it. It was in good shape still, and preparing it was only a matter of blocking up one or two holes and barricading the gates. There were several armed ships lying in the harbour, and they were boarded and their cannon swayed off and set up on the ramparts of the Old Citadel. By ten o'clock that night they were snugly and safely holed up, and the men could begin their long-delayed drinking.
Allan gave up the problem of discipline and got a bottle for himself, found some bread that was hardly stale at all, and some dried beef that had been raided from the ships, and made himself comfortable. The friendly captain, whose name was Black, joined him.
‘Well, this is better, all things considered, than I expected,' Black said, taking a pull at the bottle. 'The men will be incapable of moving by morning, but who cares? They can't dig us out of here.'
‘Who can't?'
‘Why, General Argyll and his men. They marched in to Edinburgh a while back.'
‘How many of them? His whole army?'
‘No, no, about five hundred, the scout said. Shews he's worried by us. Maybe that's the plan. Anyway, while he's here, he's not in Stirling, and if General Mar has any sense he'll march quick to Stirling and that'll be the end of that.’
Allan thought of Stirling, and the march from Perth that would take the army past his own home at Braco, and the Morland castle at Birnie. And then, by a natural progression, he thought
of Sabina and the children. He hoped they had got away by now. Perhaps he was wrong to have left them at all - perhaps his duty was more properly with them than fighting for the Chevalier? But he knew what Sabina would say to that. Sighing, he took another gulp of brandy and handed the bottle to Black.
‘Filthy rotgut stuff,' Black said. 'How I wish I had some whisky. However, we must do the best we can. Here's a toast, to the King across the Water - to the Chevalier! And confusion to the Wee German Lairdie!’
He drank the toast with enthusiasm and began to sing: Sing hey for Sandy Don, hey for Cockolorum.
Sing hey for Bobbing John, and his Highland quorum. Many a sword and lance swings at Highland hurdie -How they'll skip and dance o'er the bum o' Geordie!’
And Allan joined in:
Come up among our Highland hills,
Thou wee, wee Germain Lairdie
The brandy was warming away his doubts and fears; from different parts of the fortress he could hear other voices raised, some tunefully, others already drunk and blurred.
*
Argyll had come and gone, had asked them to surrender and when they refused had left without firing a shot. The men cheered, but they wondered what would happen next. There was a general sense of lack of direction, a feeling that they were doing no good to anyone here. Perhaps the general felt that too, for on the night of 15 October he marched them all out and along the sands to Seton, where they took over Seton House, which belonged to Lord Wintoun, who was absent raising the Border Scots for the Chevalier. Several of the men were lost during the night march, presumably too drunk to walk even as far as Seton. The rest were driven to work all through the night and the next day to gather provisions and make Seton House strong, and it went a long way to sweating the drink out of them. Allan had a foul headache himself, but guessed that he felt better than most of his men, who looked near death.
They worked all through Monday, 17 October, and slept soundly that night. On the 18th the first bit of excitement came, when two hundred horse and three hundred foot arrived from Edinburgh, presumably on the departing orders of Argyll, to try to force them out of Seton House. But Seton House was a fortified house of the old style, rather like Morland Place, and like Aberlady House before it had been destroyed and rebuilt, and without cannon they had no hope of taking it. They fired a few shots at the outer walls, stood around for an hour or so, and then retreated.
The men were excited, and cheered derisively at the departing militia. Later that day a despatch arrived from General Mar, and towards evening Captain Black sought out Allan and said, 'Well, that's the end of Old Borlum's initiative. The word from Mar was to join up with the Borderers as soon as possible, and from what I heard it was worded pretty sharply. We march off tomorrow to meet them at Kelso.’
Allan murmured something in reply, but his eyes and his mind were not on the captain; he was looking towards the east, where a strange glow was beginning to shew as the sky darkened.
*
Mavis had put on a brave face in front of Sabina, for Sabina was terrified that she had got smallpox, and it was necessary to reassure her again and again that there were no spots. What the fever was, Mavis did not know, and could not guess, but it was mild and intermittent, and after a great deal of thought she had decided not to call upon a doctor, for she wanted to do as little as possible to call attention to the fact that Aberlady House was still occupied. Only a week ago a house in Haddington had been attacked by a group of neighbours and militia because the owner was known to be a Jacobite supporter, and the son of the house had been killed. Mavis kept the doors locked and the windows shaded, and gave orders to the few servants who remained to keep quiet. She tried always to appear cheerful and confident, but the silence got on her nerves, and the slightest sound made her jump. The children were very good, and Mary kept Hamil amused for hours with card games and stories. The baby was a problem, for he seemed to be getting the fever that was laying his mother low, and was fractious and cried a lot.
By the Tuesday Sabina seemed much better, and Mavis began to hope that they would be able to get away on the next day. It was more than four days since the crossing, and surely if there was going to be an attack upon them, it would have happened by now, she reasoned. They must think the house empty, she decided. Many of the large houses along the coast in these parts were used only as summer residences by the great lords.
That afternoon Mavis began to make preparations for leaving the following morning, provided Sabina continued to mend, and as it seemed quiet she sent two of the men out to the village to see if they could buy any food. They were gone two hours, and then returned in a state of great agitation.
‘Mistress, mistress, there are soldiers coming,' they cried. 'A great army, out of Edinburgh, marching this way! We must fly at once!’
Mavis quieted them as best she could, and tried to getsome sense out of them, though they were so terrified they could hardly speak. Mary and Hamil crept close behind her and listened in silence, their eyes huge. Finally she managed to make out that they had heard that the Jacobites had settled in at Seton House, and that the militia had come out of Edinburgh to try to dislodge them. They had failed, whereupon most of them had gone back to Edinburgh, except for a detachment which was heading for Aberlady.
‘Well, we don't know what they are coming in this direction for. They may be going anywhere - to North Berwick for instance. It does not necessarily mean they are coming here.’
But one of the men, his eyes white like a frightened bullock's, began gabbling again that a woman in the village had known who he was, and had told him that the soldiers were coming to burn down Aberlady House.
Mavis thought quickly. The first thing, she decided, was to discover the truth of the assertion. She told the men to stay put, and climbed up to the top of the house and out on to the leads, where she could see for a considerable distance all round. What she saw made her blood chill; the soldiers were coming, all right. No great army, to be sure, but enough of them, perhaps fifty or sixty, she guessed - and what was worse, they were being joined by local people, ordinary citizens who resented the Jacobite activities, or perhaps who simply wanted mischief. As she watched she saw two men run up armed with pitchforks and fall in with the soldiers, skipping about as they tried to match the soldiers' step, and wagging their heads, presumably chattering and laughing to each other.
She went back inside and ran downstairs. Hamil and Mary were alone in the room where she had left them. ‘Where are the men?' Mavis asked.
Mary, her face white, but her voice still under control, said, 'They ran away. They said they didn't want to get killed for their pains. Mother, what's going to happen?' ‘It will be all right, darling,' Mavis said, trying to sound confident. 'We'll just stay very quiet, and perhaps they'll go away again. Would you go upstairs for me, and see if Sabina is all right? Don't tell her about these people coming. It would only alarm her. And Hamil, run out to the stable, will you, and shut the horses into the stone byre in the yard. They'll be safer there.’
The children ran off on their errands, and Mavis went round the house, looking for the servants, and making sure that the windows and doors were locked. There seemed to be no servants left at all, until she got to the kitchen, and there she found old Kateryn calmly packing up their food into a couple of sacks.
‘Where is everyone else?' she asked. Kateryn looked up.
‘All gone, mistress, damn their black hearts. There's only me left, and the girl upstairs with Miss Sabina. Who is it that's coming, mistress? I couldn' make out a word they were saying.'
‘It's the militia, and a mob from the village,' Mavis said, seeing no reason to lie to this sturdy old woman. 'Someone said they're coming to burn the house down.'
‘Did they now? Well that's a poor thing indeed. There was always a deal of bad feeling about this house, mistress, ever since it was pulled down in Lord Cromwell's time, damn his black heart in hell, or wherever he may be. But southerners are a Godless people, and s
o I've always said. You should have gone home to your own country when your husband died, mistress, and so I've always said.’
Kateryn's soft, slow voice calmed Mavis. She was from the far north herself, and regarded the rest of the world apart from her own glen as an aberration on God's part, and the rest of humanity apart from her own lord and his clan unspeakable barbarians. But while she was speaking, Mavis had been listening subconsciously for something, and now she realized that it was the sound of the horses coming into the yard. Hamil should have been back by now. She told Kateryn to go up to Sabina's room, and went out into the yard. The door to the stone byre was still open, and it was empty. She went on to the stable, and the stable door was also open, and she knew before she looked in that the horses would not be there either. They had been forestalled - someone had stolen them, and with them their chances of escape. But where was Hamil? She was turning away when something caught her eye, some pale gleam in the back of one of the stalls. Heart in mouth, she stepped softly forward to investigate.
Hamil lay face down, his cheek cradled on his bent arm as if he had lain down in the straw for a sleep on a hot afternoon. His nose, still childishly snubby, was pressed against his upper arm, his parted lips shewed a gleam of teeth. But he was not sleeping. The whole of the back of his head had been stoved in by a blow from some heavy object, a rock, perhaps, or an iron pole, and his hair was red and sodden. Mavis felt her gorge rise, and swallowed saliva frantically. She must not be sick now. She knelt in the straw and touched the back of his neck, tried to move his head without touching the mess. The bones of his skull around the wound felt strangely mobile, as a skull should not be. There was no doubt he was dead.
She rose, and stood trembling, looking down at him, unable to think. Her mind was dazed, refused to grapple with the problems that beset her. She gave no thought that his assailant might still be on hand. She wanted to run away, away from the house and the people in it, who should not be her responsibility. And as she stood there, swaying on her feet, she heard the commotion from the front of the house, a confusion of voices and banging noises. Dear God, the mob had arrived! She was startled out of her confusion. Mary was in there. The yard gate was open. She picked up her skirts, whirled around and ran.
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