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At
her abrupt alteration of tone and manner, the cracking of her
hard-maintained front, the man reached out to grasp her arm.

'Magdalen
- do not say it. I am still James Graham, your husband, father of
your bairns, sharer of your bed, of our life. If I have changed, it
is only that I have grown older, changed from a youth to a man. But
- it is a man you would wish as husband, is it not? No callow youth.
A man, who knows his own mind — or seeks to do so. Is that so
ill?'

'If
it means that you grow away from me - yes.'

'I
cannot remain the bairn I was when I left you, girl.

But,
then - nor are you the same. You are changed, likewise ,,.'

'And
whose fault is that? I have stayed where I was, where I belonged. I
have not become a renegade!'

'Renegade!'
Almost he laughed, 'Dear God - James Graham renegade!' Then he
frowned, 'That word, at least, is not your own. That I swear! So, my
lord of Southesk names me renegade? He, who ever makes his own laws
and rules!'

‘
You
have turned against the King.'

'I
have told you, Magdalen - it is not true, I am the King's loyal
subject - and will ever be so. But when the King does ill,
grievously ill, to the hurt
of
his
people and of his own name and rule, is it not my duty to seek
change his course?'

'Who
are you to judge the King?'

You
cannot have it this way and that. If I, as an earl of Scotland, one
of the
Righ,
the
princes, the lesser kings, of which Charles is the
Ard
Righ,
the
High King - if I must be foremost in the King's support - then I
also must be one who advises the King as to right and wrong, in his
rule in this land. Else I am a mere vassal; worse, a paid servant to
carry out his will, right or wrong. Which, pray God, I will never
be!'

'Oh,
words - great, swelling words!' she cried. 'I cannot trade such
words with you, James. You are ever too clever for me. But, this I
say. That I believe you do ill. And . . .' she set her less than
prominent jaw obstinately, 'and tomorrow we go to Kinnaird.'

'Even
though I say otherwise?' he asked. 'It is not convenient for me
to go farther from Edinburgh, at this pass. I must return there for
another meeting, in ten days' time.'

'The
more reason that I am at Kinnaird, then. Since I am to be left alone
again. As always!'

'Magdalen
- I do not think that Kinnaird is the place for you. Under your
father's eye and tongue. You know it - we have spoken of it, often.
If you will not stay here at Kincardine, come to Edinburgh with
me, meantime. We can take a lodging in the city. For this winter,
which must be of great import . , ,'

'No!
What would I do in Edinburgh? Amongst all your clever plotters and
intriguers? I want no part in your plotting. Any more than in
your rabbles and riots!
I
am going home - at least for a time.' Chokingly but finally,
she said it, and turning, ran from him, actually ran.

He
began to hurry after her, but then thought better of it Shaking his
head, he went heavy-footed in search of his sons.

Nevertheless,
after an unsatisfactory night in his wife's bed, James Graham rode
north for the Mearns, with his Countess, his sons and his
father-in-law, having thought on it until his head spun. He was not
a man to shirk the price that had to be paid - any price.

7

Edinburgh
might be demoted, in name, from being
capital,
by the King's command; but seldom before had the old grey city above
the Forth been so much the centre and heart of the country. The
Privy Council - or the Lords Spiritual part of it - might meet
occasionally and fearfully in Linlithgow or Stirling; but the
meetings which mattered to Scotland were taking place all the time
in
Edinburgh;
not only those of the Tables themselves, but public and private
assemblies, conclaves and groups of the nobility, clergy, burgesses
and ordinary folk, conferring, protesting, demonstrating.
People streamed to the city from all parts - or not quite all parts,
for the Highlands in the main remained disinterested, and
Aberdeenshire and the North-East hostile. This latter attitude was
accounted for partly by the fact that St Andrews, the former
ecclesiastical metropolis and most ancient university, was the main
centre of Presbyterianism — and therefore its rival, Aberdeen
University, must needs support Episcopacy, to be different; and
partly owing to the great influence thereabouts of the mighty
Catholic house of Gordon, whose chief, the Marquis of Huntly,
inevitably chose to link the Crown with the Papacy.

That
winter of 1637/38, Montrose saw more of Edinburgh than he had
ever done. After the birth of another son, whom they named David, in
early January, he was more frequently in the city than at Kinnaird -
where he found the atmosphere a little trying. The great National
Covenant was in process of being drawn up; and since its sentiments
and provisions were all-important, James Graham was concerned
that his hand should not be absent from the wording. Also, he was
beginning to regret that he had allowed the Earl of Loudoun to be
appointed the convener of the Nobles' Table, with the influence this
position was assuming. Loudoun, the first carl, had been Sir John
Campbell of Lawers, a harsh and overbearing man, and notably
anti-King. Montrose was seeking, at this stage, and on the urgings
of Napier, Rothes and even Sir Thomas Hope, to restrain him from too
intemperate an attitude. If the Campbell had had his way - like some
of the more extreme ministers - it would have been outright armed
rebellion, and die royal authority denied and dismissed.

Such
was the situation when, on the 19th of February, John Stewart, Earl
of Traquair, Treasurer of Scotland, arrived back in Scotland from
London - but not at Edinburgh, He went to Stirling, and in the
presence of the truncated Privy Council, had the Lord Lyon King
of Arms read a new proclamation from the King, at the Mercat Cross,
giving force of law to various aspects of Charles's policy. However,
the Lyon and his heralds were ordered to come to Edinburgh and read
the proclamation there on die 22nd - although discreetly.

Since
one of the clauses was that all petitioners and protestors
against the King's ecclesiastical policy were to be banished the
city and forbidden to meet together on pain of treason, it was high
time for swift decisions.

Edinburgh
buzzed like a bee's-bike disturbed; but though there was strong
pressure for drastic, indeed violent action, Montrose, Rothes,
Napier and Henderson - guided in the background by the Lord Advocate
- managed to have moderation to prevail. Meantime. The royal
proclamation would be heard and its proclaimers not subjected to
riot or contempt But the Tables' own proclamation would be read
thereafter, and the new National Covenant brought forward for
signature in turn.

So,
on Thursday the
22nd,
Edinburgh
was packed to bursting point, to witness this first direct
confrontation, the first formal exchange of salvoes in the war of
words between Monarch and people. At an hour before noon, as the
bells still jangled the hour, the steady tuck of drum heralded the
Town Guard, specially reinforced for the occasion, marching up the
crowded High Street to the Mercat Cross outside St Giles. They had
to force their way less than gently, with halberds and pikes and
flat of swords, so dense was the throng; but everywhere the
ministers were mixing with the people, urging restraint, a quiet
reception, and the upholding of die dignity and authority of their
Tables. In the main they were successful, extraordinarily so
considering the intensity of the emotion aroused. There were a few
scuffles, some shouts and catcalls, one or two stones thrown; but
the Guard and its charges got through without major upset - these
charges including the unhappy Provost and magistrates of Edinburgh,
some of whom were themselves members of the Burghs' Table, Lord Lyon
Balfour and his brilliantly tabarded heralds, and,
impassive-featured, pacing majestically, Sir Thomas Hope of
Craighall, His Grace's Advocate.

Around
the platformed Mercat Cross, of course, the crowd was most dense and
most illustrious. Here, standing tight-packed as herrings in a
barrel, was a large part of the country's aristocracy, gentry,
clergy, guildry, merchantry - and, of course, innumerable of the
citizenry and country folk in for the proclamations, with screeching
children, barking dogs, pedlars, hucksters, pickpockets, cutpurses,
indeed all the community of the realm. It was a cold grey day, with
an east wind off the sea and an occasional smirr of rain -
Edinburgh in February. Every window of the tall flanking
tenements and lands held its quota of womenfolk.

Through
all, the Town Guard pushed. Leaving the magistrates and the
Advocate at the foot of the octagonal, arched and parapeted base of
the Cross, the Provost and Lord Lyon, with four heralds and two
trumpeters, climbed the little winding stair to the platform, above
the heads of the crowd. And there, as uncomfortably cramped as were
their hearers below, the trumpeters took over from the drummers who
had rat-a-tatted continuously hitherto, and blew a long and blaring
fanfare.

Provost
William Dick, one of the wealthiest merchants in the land, raised
his hand. 'My lords, masters, citizens and burghers,' he shouted,
'as chief magistrate of this city, I require that you give ear and
respectful hearing to the most honoured Lord Lyon King of Arms, who
speaks by order of the King's Grace.'

One
or two witticisms greeted this, for the Provost had a slight
impediment in his speech which turned his Rs into Ws. But the
trumpets soon cut that short.

Sir
James Balfour of Denmiln and Kinnaird unrolled his parchments, and
in a high clear voice, began :

'In
the name of Charles, by the grace of God, King - hear me. It is
hereby declared, ordained and decreed, that . .'

He
got no further. A great sigh rose from the assembled multitude, grew
into a murmur, a groan that increased and began to change into an
ominous growling. Shouts began to punctuate this heavy, angry sound
- but they were in the main the shouts of the ministers calling for
quiet, for attention, a decent respect, some of the nobility
joining in. Gradually they were heeded, and an uneasy hush prevailed
again.

Sir
James Balfour, with an anxious frown, tried again. He got a little
further, this time, managing to read the royal preamble. But
when he proclaimed that the King took fullest and personal
responsibility for the introduction of the new Liturgy, the
murmuring began once more. Raising his voice, the Lord Lyon
announced that King Charles could not possibly discuss or debate
such matters within his own divine right and prerogative.
Desperately, as the noise swelled, Balfour shouted the provisions
that all petitioners and indeed all strangers, must disperse and
leave Edinburgh forthwith, under pain not only of his royal
displeasure but under all the penalties of treason. Loud, deep and
steady was now the outcry from thousands of throats. Clearly no
efforts of the ministers were going to have any effect now.