A Legend of Montrose by Walter Scott (best big ereader .TXT) 📖

and Montrose’s active memory at once recalled all the circumstances of the feud.

“It is most unlucky,” said Montrose, “this inexpiable quarrel between these men and the M’Aulays. Allan has borne himself bravely in these wars, and possesses, by the wild mystery of his behaviour and language, so much influence over the minds of his countrymen, that the consequences of disobliging him might be serious. At the same time, these men being so capable of rendering useful service, and being as you say, Major Dalgetty, perfectly trustworthy—”

“I will pledge my pay and arrears, my horse and arms, my head and neck, upon their fidelity,” said the Major; “and your Excellency knows, that a soldado could say no more for his own father.”

“True,” said Montrose; “but as this is a matter of particular moment, I would willingly know the grounds of so positive an assurance.”

“Concisely then, my lord,” said the Major, “not only did they disdain to profit by a handsome reward which Argyle did me the honour to place upon this poor head of mine, and not only did they abstain from pillaging my personal property, whilk was to an amount that would have tempted regular soldiers in any service of Europe; and not only did they restore me my horse, whilk your Excellency knows to be of value, but I could not prevail on them to accept one stiver, doit, or maravedi, for the trouble and expenses of my sick bed. They actually refused my coined money when freely offered,—a tale seldom to be told in a Christian land.”

“I admit,” said Montrose, after a moment’s reflection, “that their conduct towards you is good evidence of their fidelity; but how to secure against the breaking out of this feud?” He paused, and then suddenly added, “I had forgot I have supped, while you, Major, have been travelling by moonlight.”

He called to his attendants to fetch a stoup of wine and some refreshments. Major Dalgetty, who had the appetite of a convalescent returned from Highland quarters, needed not any pressing to partake of what was set before him, but proceeded to dispatch his food with such alacrity, that the Marquis, filling a cup of wine, and drinking to his health, could not help remarking, that coarse as the provisions of his camp were, he was afraid Major Dalgetty had fared much worse during his excursion into Argyleshire.

“Your Excellency may take your corporal oath upon that,” said the worthy Major, speaking with his mouth full; “for Argyle’s bread and water are yet stale and mouldy in my recollection, and though they did their best, yet the viands that the Children of the Mist procured for me, poor helpless creatures as they were, were so unrefreshful to my body, that when enclosed in my armour, whilk I was fain to leave behind me for expedition’s sake, I rattled therein like the shrivelled kernel in a nut that hath been kept on to a second Hallowe’en.”

“You must take the due means to repair these losses, Major Dalgetty.”

“In troth,” answered the soldier, “I shall hardly be able to compass that, unless my arrears are to be exchanged for present pay; for I protest to your Excellency, that the three stone weight which I have lost were simply raised upon the regular accountings of the States of Holland.”

“In that case,” said the Marquis, “you are only reduced to good marching order. As for the pay, let us once have victory—victory, Major, and your wishes, and all our wishes, shall be amply fulfilled. Meantime, help yourself to another cup of wine.”

“To your Excellency’s health,” said the Major, filling a cup to the brim, to show the zeal with which he drank the toast, “and victory over all our enemies, and particularly over Argyle! I hope to twitch another handful from his board myself—I have had one pluck at it already.”

“Very true,” answered Montrose; “but to return to those men of the Mist. You understand, Dalgetty, that their presence here, and the purpose for which we employ them, is a secret between you and me?”

Delighted, as Montrose had anticipated, with this mark of his General’s confidence, the Major laid his hand upon his nose, and nodded intelligence.

“How many may there be of Ranald’s followers?” continued the Marquis.

“They are reduced, so far as I know, to some eight or ten men,” answered Major Dalgetty, “and a few women and children.”

“Where are they now?” demanded Montrose.

“In a valley, at three miles’ distance,” answered the soldier, “awaiting your Excellency’s command; I judged it not fit to bring them to your leaguer without your Excellency’s orders.”

“You judged very well,” said Montrose; “it would be proper that they remain where they are, or seek some more distant place of refuge. I will send them money, though it is a scarce article with me at present.”

“It is quite unnecessary,” said Major Dalgetty; “your Excellency has only to hint that the M’Aulays are going in that direction, and my friends of the Mist will instantly make volte-face, and go to the right about.”

“That were scarce courteous,” said the Marquis. “Better send them a few dollars to purchase them some cattle for the support of the women and children.”

“They know how to come by their cattle at a far cheaper rate,” said the Major; “but let it be as your Excellency wills.”

“Let Ranald MacEagh,” said Montrose, “select one or two of his followers, men whom he can trust, and who are capable of keeping their own secret and ours; these, with their chief for scout-master-general, shall serve for our guides. Let them be at my tent to-morrow at daybreak, and see, if possible, that they neither guess my purpose, nor hold any communication with each other in private.—This old man, has he any children?”

“They have been killed or hanged,” answered the Major, “to the number of a round dozen, as I believe—but he hath left one grand-child, a smart and hopeful youth, whom I have noted to be never without a pebble in his plaid-nook, to fling at whatsoever might come in his way; being a symbol, that, like David, who was accustomed to sling smooth stones taken from the brook, he may afterwards prove an adventurous warrior.”

“That boy, Major Dalgetty,” said the Marquis, “I will have to attend upon my own person. I presume he will have sense enough to keep his name secret?”

“Your Excellency need not fear that,” answered Dalgetty; “these Highland imps, from the moment they chip the shell—”

“Well,” interrupted Montrose, “that boy shall be pledge for the fidelity of his parent, and if he prove faithful, the child’s preferment shall be his reward.—And now, Major Dalgetty, I will license your departure for the night; tomorrow you will introduce this MacEagh, under any name or character he may please to assume. I presume his profession has rendered him sufficiently expert in all sort of disguises; or we may admit John of Moidart into our schemes, who has sense, practicability, and intelligence, and will probably allow this man for a time to be disguised as one of his followers. For you, Major, my groom of the chambers will be your quarter-master for this evening.”

Major Dalgetty took his leave with