Kirsty knew what his absence meant. The sergeant was either dead or missing in action

In spite of his brave words, however, Robert Marshall shared the general’s view that Gardiner and his men would be routed against the Jacobite forces. By now they had reached the castle entrance. He turned to Malcolm Porteous. “As the son of a traitor,” Robert warned, “take care you do not find yourself here again.” “Oh, I’ll not seek you out, believe me,” Malcolm assured him, “though perhaps one day we will meet on friendlier terms.” He paused. “You may care to accept an invitation to attend my marriage to Miss Mcallan.”

Later that day Kirsty went to buy some medicinal syrup for Alison and wondered at all the activity she saw on her way up from the Canongate. People were crowding the north-facing walls, windows and closes, peering down at the Nor’ Loch and the land beyond, and she heard mutterings about rebel forces.

As she waited for the apothecary to make up the mixture, she felt uneasy. To her surprise Robert Marshall appeared at her side and she sensed his agitation. He had come for a physic for General Guest’s arthritis.

Gauge the mood

“Surely one of the soldiers could have come on such an errand?” Kirsty said. “True,” he replied, “but I wanted to gauge the mood of the citizens, though most of them have no idea what’s happening.” “And just what is happening?”

Robert’s face darkened. “Colonel Gardiner’s army encountered the rebels early this morning. But, unfortunately, many of them ran away, damn their hides, and the ‘brave Edinburgh men’ of the Volunteer Corps turned tail at the first musket shot.”

“I see.” Kirsty was carefully non-committal. “Is there any news of Sergeant Mccrae?”

“None. The colonel and such men as stood by him have retreated to join General Cope’s army at Dunbar. Sergeant Mccrae should have returned here for further orders, but...”

Kirsty knew what his absence meant. The sergeant was either dead or missing in action. She bit her lip; how could she tell Alison this news?

The apothecary appeared and handed her a bottle. “There’s a touch of laudanum in this,” he warned. “Bid the patient take care.”

As she was leaving Robert spoke casually. “Have you heard from Miss Chalmers, or John Porteous?”

“The dangerous spies, you mean? The ones who escaped while you weren’t looking?” Kirsty’s eyes twinkled. “No, we haven’t seen them, but if we do, have you a message for them?” “I’m sure you can guess what I’d say if I clapped eyes on them, Miss Mcallan. I bid you good day.”

“And you, sir” Kirsty replied, “though yours may be more worrisome than mine with the rebels advancing on the city.”

Rabble

Lady Catherine Gray laid aside her embroidery and rubbed her hand over her face. “I must be getting old,” she said to Mclaurin, seated opposite. “My eyes tire so easily these days.” She strode to the window. “What’s happening out there? The bells have been sounding for well nigh an hour.”

“Jean should be back any minute now: she’ll tell us.” As if on cue the door burst open and Jean Forbes rushed in. “Oh, ma’am, you should see it! The rebels are here in the city!”

“The Prince, too?” Lady Catherine asked, hand at her mouth. “No, not yet. He’s making his way to the King’s Parkland. You can see the army, hundreds of men, fierce-looking, too. What a sight it is!”

“Aye,” Lady Catherine said softly, “it must be.” She glanced at Mclaurin. “What’ll become of us?”

The old woman shook her head. “They’re not the rabble they’re made out to be.” A knowing look entered her eyes, “Besides, we’ll be safe whatever happens.”

Ignoring her mistress’s bewilderment, she prodded Jean with her cane. “You said the rebels are inside the city yet the Prince and his men are still outwith the walls?”

“Aye, he’s with the main army,” Jean explained. “But a group of rebels breached the gate at the Netherbow, sending the soldiers back to the castle.”

“So the whole length from the Lawnmarket down to Holyrood is in Jacobite hands now?” Lady Catherine still sounded afraid, yet Mclaurin remained unconcerned. “We’ll be perfectly safe,” she insisted.

Lady Catherine toyed with her embroidery but her agitation was too great and she laid it aside.

“I think I’ll hold a ball,” she declared. “An act of defiance to show the Jacobites that Edinburgh society cares not a hoot for their cause and will not attend the Prince or grant him favours.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “It’ll be the biggest and best affair we’ve ever had. A masquerade with costumes!”

Ewan looked down from the slopes of Arthur’s Seat at the vast army encamped in the King’s Park. Cooking fires burned and columns of smoke spiralled into the air. The air was filled with the men’s laughter and raucous shouts.

Ewan watched with a feeling of great pride, heightened when he saw hundreds of citizens streaming into the park. Many carried bundles of food and drink for the clansmen.

Not all were sympathetic to the rebel cause, he knew; many were simply curious, with the womenfolk hoping to catch sight of the Prince to see if he was as handsome as rumour had it.

Ewan eventually spotted the colours of his own regiment, the Scots Royal, and with mounting anticipation, he made his way down the steep slopes to find his colonel, Alastair Crawford.

Barricade

“Should we not barricade the front door?” Duncan Mcallan asked as he lit an oil lamp in the kitchen. “Och, no, Duncan.” Agnes was contentedly reading a book of poems. “No need for that. The Highlanders may look fierce but...”

“Of course, they’re your friends, after all,” Malcolm said sarcastically. “And yours, too, if you but knew it,” his mother replied.

“How can you say that? Whatever possessed you and Father to support the papists?’’

“We’re no papists!” Anger crept into Agnes’s voice. “Neither are half that army out there. And yes,” she cried, “I knew what John was doing and why!”

“I had no idea you were involved with them,” Duncan broke in. “You never mentioned it.”

“There was no need, Duncan,” Agnes said. “You’re a man of God, and politics distress you, I know. Better you knew nothing than fret and worry. I can only say John had good reason for supporting the Stuart cause, and as his wife I support him.”

“You could both have hanged for treason,” Alison said bluntly. “You still might if this uprising fails.”

“True, my dear, but we weren’t and we won’t be! Charles Stuart will be on the throne in a matter of months.”

“My, such faith, Mother,” Malcolm said in a bitter tone that drove Duncan to cry out. “Enough! Listen to us! You’d never think we were friends, Malcolm.”

“Friends? Would a friend use your Mission Houses for his own purpose?” Malcolm protested. “First the Grassmarket, and then he lured you here just so he had a safe place for his plotting friends.”

More tomorrow.

Glens of Stone was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Mandy Dixon