HANDSOME grey stone tenements, some small, some tall, but all with imposing arches and pillars underneath, undulated into the distance as far as the eye could see. From the distance and swelling the broad dirt road between the buildings came a riot of colour.
Clopping along in front were horses carrying French, Irish and Highland officers. The men bobbed up and down, Highlanders in scarlet and green and blue tartan kilts, and trews and jackets with epaulets and large cuffs and plaids draped over one shoulder and targes over one arm. Men with round flat bonnets and white cockades and silver-buckled shoes. Frenchmen with thigh-length boots and three-cornered hats, long grey coats and blue breeches. Irishmen with jackboots, grey coats and breeches of emerald green.
There was also Lord Elcho’s Highland gentlemen on horseback looking very splendid in their blue coats and red vests and cuffs. And Lord Murray’s troop of young hussars in plaid waistcoats and large fur caps.
As the noise and clatter of the horses swelled louder and louder Regina tugged at Gav’s arm.
‘Stand in a close out of the way or we’ll get trampled.’
They sprinted down Trongate Street and into the first close they came to. Then they peeped out to view the spectacle again. The horsemen and the mass of men following behind on foot were fast approaching the Cross.
Regina pulled Gav further into the shadow of the close wall as they came nearer. She was violently trembling.
The horses clattered to a halt outside the Tolbooth and two of the officers dismounted and climbed the outside stairs of the building. One of them carried a standard. He thrust it high and roared out:
‘I, John Hay of Restalrig, in the name of our rightful sovereign, King James, do proclaim his son, Charles Edward, Regent of Scotland.’
Inside, in the council chamber the Provost Andrew Cochrane, the town clerk, the magistrates and tobacco lords waited in silence. The council chamber had a high ceiling, an antique ornamental ceiling piece and around the walls hung many portraits. The Glasgow men sat at an oval table made of polished mahogany. Hay entered first and immediately rounded on them, accusing them of being rebels and traitors.
‘An English army we can understand, sir. They are regular fighting men. They are doing their job. They are obeying orders like the men in King George’s Highland regiments are obeying orders. We can understand that. Yes, even the Campbells we understand. But you, sir, you Glasgow scum, you money-grubbing tradesmen, you took it upon yourself to form a militia for the sole purpose of destroying your fellow countrymen and your prince.’
‘Our allegiance, sir, is to King George,’ Ramsay said, ‘not to any Pretender.’
‘Wheesht, Ramsay,’ Halyburton warned. ‘Do you want to get yourself shot?’
‘It’s scum like you that the Prince is resolved to make an example of, to strike terror into other places.’
‘I fear only God, sir.’
‘Then God help you!’
The Provost held up a restraining hand. ‘Now, now, Mr Hay, let us talk in a reasonable and civilised manner. You call us tradesmen. Well, we are merchants, that is true, but surely that is no reason for us to be either ashamed or abused.’
‘You marched a battalion to Stirling to fight against the son of your rightful sovereign King James.’
‘The battalion is a matter of fact, Mr Hay, and we are not denying it. But who our rightful sovereign is, is a matter of opinion.’
Ramsay stuck out his jaw.
‘We are Whigs and Presbyterians, sir. Why should we follow a man who would prevent us worshipping in the way we want? And we are intelligent men. Why should we support a man who would ruin the business and prosperity not only of Glasgow but of the whole of Scotland?’
‘So it is as I say,’ Hay sneered. ‘You are a money-grubbing traitor, sir. You would be dependent on England. You would grovel to the English, the enemy of us all.’
‘The English are my business competitors, not my enemy. And I grovel to no man, sir. I am a better businessman by far than any English merchant and I have proved it. I do not need to prove that I am braver and fiercer in the field.’
‘You Lowland scum. You talk of bravery and fierceness in the field in the presence of Highlanders? There is no man anywhere in the world who can match a Highlander for daring and courage. We are fighters born and bred, sir.’
‘And we are intelligent men!’
Hay drew his pistol and held it close to Ramsay’s face.
‘I am tempted, merchant, to deny my prince the pleasure of dealing with you.’
His companion, a handsome man with dark lustrous eyes, stepped forward.
‘Stay your arm, man. This is not what we came for.’ He turned to the Provost. ‘I am Cameron of Lochiel. Some of our men are outside and we must see them properly housed and fed. This I hope your townspeople will do with good grace. If they do they have nothing to fear. No harm will come to them. Our men have always behaved well to the populace.’
Hay replaced his pistol.
‘Who owns the mansion house we passed as we came into town?’
‘I do,’ said John Glassford.
‘Then, sir, you will have the honour of giving hospitality to Charles, Prince of Wales and Regent of Scotland, England, France and Ireland and the dominions thereunto belonging, and to some of his gentlemen.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Glassford was unimpressed. ‘And who’s going to pay for all this?’
Before Hay could retort, Lochiel said quietly:
‘You will not be required to pay one bawbee for a crumb that goes over the Prince’s throat, sir.’
‘Oh, aye.’
‘Another column of the army will arrive tonight. Another tomorrow. On Friday the Prince will arrive at the head of the clans.’
‘Weel, weel.’ Halyburton shook his head. ‘It beats me where you’re going to put them all.’
‘Those who cannot pack into houses will camp in the streets. But each house will have to take at least ten or twenty. And, merchants, that includes your houses.’
‘Weel, weel. If that’s what has to be. But I tremble to think what my gudewife will have to say about a crowd like that in her house.’
‘Tremble away, sir. Tremble away.’
Lochiel put a hand on Hay’s arm.
‘We’ve said our piece. The men are waiting outside.’ Then he turned to the Provost and gave a slight bow. ‘Lord Provost.’
The Provost gravely returned the compliment. ‘Sir.’
Hay called out before leaving:
‘We will be in contact again, merchants. Do not imagine we are finished with you.’
Gav and Regina saw them return outside and remount their horses. Then suddenly there was a cry of ‘Free quarters!’ and the tightly packed mob of men and the mounted officers began to disperse in all directions. Down Trongate Street they swarmed and up High Street, along Gallowgate Street and down Saltmarket Street, along wynds and in closes.
A crowd came hurrying in the close where Gav and Regina were hiding. They froze with terror, but the men pushed past them without as much as a second glance.
Some of the officers hesitated at the Cross, their horses rearing up in different directions. Then some of them cantered along Trongate Street. Others made for the Saltmarket. A crowd of them turned in the first close.
Big John was standing guard on Ramsay’s stables at the back of the building near the turnpike stair. He glowered and refused to budge when the officers appeared and ordered him to take care of their horses.
‘Rebut!’ A tall Frenchman sprang from his horse and came striding towards the servant with sword brandished out in front of him. ‘You do not know what this means, Ecossais? It means scum.’
Big John spat defiantly, missing the Frenchman by only a few inches. Immediately the officer leapt forward and held his sword against Big John’s throat and from the surrounding kitchen windows, screams of terror and protest arose.
Nancy Kinkaid left her window and went to tell Annabella what was happening. In a matter of minutes Annabella had flown down the stairs, flounced out, pink-faced and blonde curls bouncing, and shouted at the officer.
‘How dare you, sir? This man is my servant. Leave him be at once or I shall box your ears.’
The man looked round in surprise, then amusement, and appreciation glimmered in his face.
‘Ah, mademoiselle.’ He quickly replaced his sword and flung up his hands. ‘Who could resist such beauty? I capitulate gladly. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?’
Annabella was still hot and ruffled, but her usual pertness came to her rescue. She tipped up her chin and flickered him a coquettish glance.
‘Sir, I cannot think that it is any of your business who I am.’
‘Ah, but indeed it is, mademoiselle. I shall be living in your house during the whole of my stay in Glasgow.’
‘Indeed, sir. By whose authority?’
‘By the authority of His Royal Highness Prince Charles.’
‘You mean the Pretender?’
‘Mon dieu! You have courage as well as beauty. But take care.’
‘Fiddlesticks! I never take care. To be cautious is to be a bore.’
His smile came slowly, dimpling his cheeks and reflecting in his eyes. With formal exaggerated flapping and swooping of arms he made a low bow.
‘Jean-Paul Lavelle at your service, mademoiselle.’
She frisked her skirts wide as she curtsied, then gracefully undulated an arm and a hand towards him.
‘Annabella Ramsay.’
‘Enchanté, mademoiselle.’
He kissed the back of her fingers, then holding them he raised her upwards and closer as he repeated, ‘Enchanté.’
She swooped away from him and did a little pirouette around the grinning crowd of officers.
‘Gracious heavens, how can I feed and bed so many? It is a monstrous imposition. I cannot think what my papa will say.’ But she could barely contain her delighted giggles as, clutching her skirts high to protect them from the filthy ground, she dashed back towards the house.
Gav and Regina did not know what to do. The day stretched before them fraught with dangers and privations. They ventured out of the close and aimlessly crossed the road. In front of the Tolbooth they stood reading the motto on the front:
THIS HOUSE HATES |
LOVES |
PUNISHES |
PRESERVES |
HONOURS |
INIQUITY |
PEACE |
CRIME |
THE LAWS |
THE UPRIGHT |
Then, being careful not to put foot on the plainstanes, they wandered along, stopping for a time to gaze up at the statue of King William and his horse. Behind the statue, the Town Hall and Exchange building afforded some interest because above each archway was a grotesque carved face or mask.
Now that the soldiers had dispersed, Trongate Street was almost empty. There were no tobacco lords talking business in little groups near the stairs of the Tolbooth or standing around the piazzas under the Town Hall. There was only a man with a barrow disappearing down one side of the street and a caddie bent underneath a keg of herrings slowly advancing along the other. From the distance came the two-horse fly on its return from Greenock. And proceeding in an opposite direction was the carriage of one of the neighbouring county gentlemen with his livery servant behind.
Echoing from one of the side streets came Moothy McMurdo’s bell followed by his lusty voice:
‘All the shops are shut today
The toon has been invaded.
The Highland army’s come to stay
And before this day has faded
Another mob are due.
There’s nothing you can do
Except get fu’.’
He appeared from Candleriggs Street and stopped at the guard house which was at its corner.
‘It’s going to get worset
Until your hooses are bustet;
For there’s thousands mair coming tomorrow,
On Friday as well,
I’m sorry to tell,
Will bring us the cause of our sorrow.’
Gav said: ‘Maybe there’s crowds of them in our house.’ Regina sighed.
‘I expect so.’
‘There won’t be room for us anywhere.’ Regina rubbed at a flickering nerve at the side of her eye. ‘We’ll have to think of how we’re going to get food.’
They stood in silence for a while, gazing helplessly down Trongate Street at the disappearing figure of the bellman. Eventually Regina said:
‘I suppose the only way is to beg like we did yesterday.’
‘I don’t like begging.’
‘I don’t either, but how else can we get anything?’
‘There was still some bannocks left in the house.’
Regina shook her head. ‘I’m not going back there. I don’t like that Jeannie. Anyway there’ll be crowds of Highlanders.’
‘I’m not afraid of the Highlanders. I’ll tell them that I’m a Highlander too.’
‘I wonder …’ Regina nibbled at her lip. ‘I wonder if I could do Maister Ramsay and Mistress Halyburton’s washing like Mammy did.’
‘Ask.’ Gav jumped up and down with eagerness. ‘They paid Mammy money. Maybe they’d pay you too. Then we could buy lots of food.’
‘All right. Let’s try Mistress Halyburton first this time.’
Energised by this new hope, the children hurried down Trongate Street until they came to Locheid’s Land. Once at the back of the building, Regina said:
‘You wait there in case they think that having a little brother is a nuisance and don’t give me the job. Then what will we do?’
‘I’m not a nuisance,’ Gav indignantly protested.
‘I know you’re not, but Mistress Halyburton is a terrible targe. I remember Mammy saying that. She might think you’d get in the way or something.’
‘Oh, all right.’
‘I’ll try not to be long. Hide in the stairs until I come back down again.’
Unhappily Gav nodded. Then he crouched down in one of the shadowy corners and almost disappeared inside his outsize jacket. Impulsively Regina bent down and kissed his freckled face.
‘We’ll be all right.’
Then she ran quickly up the stairs. Arriving at the Halyburtons’ house, her courage suddenly deserted her. She could not bring herself to tirl the door-pin. But the thought of the terrible situation she and Gav were in brought desperation to her aid. Before she could change her mind she grabbed the iron tirling pin. It made the rasping sound that had given tirling pins the nickname of ‘craws’ or ‘crows’.
Almost immediately the door jerked open to reveal a small hunchback with bald patches in her hair and narrow slits for eyes.
‘I know you!’ she accused. ‘You’re Jessie Chisholm’s lassie. Come here!’ She grabbed Regina by the front of her dress, hauled her into the house and shut the door. ‘Mistress Letitia!’ she screeched. ‘Mistress Letitia!’
Regina gazed around trembling with fear. A door lay open into what looked like a dining-room and it was full of Highlanders.
From another room Mrs Halyburton appeared like a warship in full sail. She was rigid-backed under her high powdered wig and dangling earrings, and her yellow quilted petticoat and green hooped skirt did nothing to improve her sallow complexion. Eyes wicked with fury, lips a narrow line, her hands clutched at her waist hoisting up her bosom.
‘What is it now, Kate?’
‘It’s Jessie’s lassie.’
Without hesitation Letitia shot out a hand and cuffed Regina on the head and face.
‘Steal my fine linen, would you?’
‘I didn’t! I didn’t!’ Regina sobbed.
She cuffed her again.
‘Well, where is it? And where’s your mother?’
‘I don’t know. She never came home and I don’t know what to do. I’ve no money and I was hoping you’d give me work. I’d work very hard. I promise.’
‘Your mother promised to hurry straight back with my linen. But did she? No, she did not.’
Kate punched Regina’s back, making her stagger off balance.
‘The nerve of it! Coming to oor door like that.’
Letitia said: ‘The pillory’s the place for her and her thieving mother.’
Regina’s sobs heightened to wails of terror.
‘Oh, please, please. I didn’t steal anything and I don’t know where my mammy is, but if I find out I’ll tell you. I promise. I promise!’
‘You’d better,’ said Letitia, cuffing her again. ‘If you don’t keep that promise it’s the pillory for you or the stake, like your wicked old witch of a granny. Now get out of my sight.’
The door was opened and Regina hurled outside to land on her back on the floor. She cowered there too terrified to move until the door crashed shut and there was silence. Boxes lay about the landing among mountains of dirty newspapers. Somewhere a rat rustled. Regina struggled up, rubbing at her eyes. She felt heartbroken at having to go and disappoint Gav by confessing her failure and she tried, as she made her way slowly downstairs, to think of some other solution to their problems. But everything had swelled to such terrifying proportions that her mind kept fuzzing as if it were filled with balls of wool. Then when she reached the foot of the stairs Gav was not there.
‘Gav?’
She ran outside, this way and that, round in a circle then back to the stairs. She began to sob.
‘Gav, where are you? Don’t play games. I’m frightened.’
She climbed up to the top of the stairs and ran back down and out to the back close. She flew up and down all the other stairways in the yard all the time, calling his name. Then through the narrow entry alongside the warehouse under the arch and out on to Trongate Street. Still there was neither sight nor sound of him. She ran down Candleriggs Street and back to Trongate Street and then stopped. Her heart seemed to have multiplied a thousandfold and was drumming mercilessly in every part of her. She could hardly breathe.
Unable to cope with the idea that she could be alone or that any harm had come to her brother she made up her mind that he must have felt hungry and gone to Tannery Wynd to fetch the bannocks he had spoken of.
‘I’ll box your ears for you when I catch you,’ she muttered to herself. ‘You’ll howl and bubble and greet today, all right.’
She wondered if she ought to go back to the Halyburtons’ stairway and wait for him or if she ought to walk towards the Cross and meet him halfway. She decided to start walking. In a secret chamber of her mind the thought that Gav was being held prisoner at the house grew like an ominous shadow and blurred her vision everywhere she looked. At the Cross she loitered, every now and again rubbing one bare foot against her leg, or a clenched fist into her eyes.
Rain had begun to smir across the city and the sun which had earlier dappled the buildings now retreated behind black clouds. Regina shivered and drew her cape tighter round her. She peered down Saltmarket Street and up High Street. It was like a Sabbath day. No one was walking the streets and an almost complete silence prevailed. Reluctantly she started walking again, this time past the Cross and along Gallowgate Street. She hesitated once more when she reached Tannery Wynd. Oh, she would box his ears for him like he had never had them boxed before. It was not fair of him to torment her like this. She quickened her pace along the narrow lane, flicking nervous glances in all directions in case Spider was watching in one of the doorways or behind one of the dunghills to bite her. But she reached the cottage unharmed and pushed at the door. It opened to reveal a crowd of French and Irish soldiers. There was a shout when they saw her and before she could turn and make her escape one of them grabbed her and pulled her inside.
‘Let go of me. Let go of me!’ Regina screamed and kicked and struggled as hard as she could, but the man just laughed and called out something in French.
The doors of the hole-in-the-wall bed had opened to reveal Jeannie and another soldier. Both were naked.
‘Oh, there you are, pet.’
Jeannie pushed the naked soldier aside, and slithered from the bed, pulling on her skirt.
‘I wondered where you’d gone. I worried and worried.’
‘Where’s my wee brother?’
‘He disappeared as well, pet, and that robber Quin. You don’t want anything to do with a man like that, pet. He robs a poor lassie instead of helping her with a wee bit money.’
‘I’ll have to go and look for my wee brother.’
‘Och, there’s plenty of time, pet. Tell me something. Have you got any money?’
‘No.’
‘And now that your mammy’s gone you’ll need some to buy food. Is that right, pet?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, pet, this big soldier man’s got money. So if you just be nice to him and let him do what he wants he’ll give you all that you need.’
Suddenly one of the other men lurched forward.
‘It’s an Irishman she’ll be having first, not a French fop.’
Another pushed him aside.
‘Quite right, Michael—this Irishman!’
Others staggered towards Regina with drunken leering faces and loose mouths and hands outstretched. Suddenly the Frenchman who had a grip of her pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the rest.
‘Après moi!’ he snarled at them before hoisting Regina up with his other hand and tossing her into the bed. Then he climbed in and shut the wooden doors. Darkness enclosed her and she withered back against the wall, able only to squeeze out small animal noises.