Part 15

We had no sooner burst from the confinement of the trees, than a wide and extensive and grand prospect opened to us. From the immediate foreground the eye ran gently down some sloping cultivated inclosures, till, passing over the widespread woods by which these were surrounded, it swept with eagle flight across the wide valley of the Spey and the endless forests of Abernethy, and rested with joy and with a feeling of freedom on the blue chain of the Cairngorum mountains, rising huge and vast above these minor dependent hills that were congregated about their bases. To the left our view was bounded by tall groves of timber-trees, chiefly beeches, and after penetrating these, the lofty bulk of Castle Grant presented itself within an hundred yards of us.

Clifford.--I think it will not be considered as any breach of the rule we have just laid down, if you should give us an outline, in three words, of the history of this the feudal residence of your chiefs.

Grant.--All I can tell you regarding it is, that it has been the seat of the chief of our clan ever since the fourteenth century, when the surrounding lands were taken from the Cumins and bestowed on the Grants by the Crown. Another large cantle of the ancient possessions of the Cumins came into the family by the marriage of Sir John Grant with Matilda or Bigla, the heiress of Gilbert Cumin of Glenchearnich.

Dominie.--True, true, sir, I have a curious story about that. You see, gentlemen, Gilbert Cumin, whose cognomen was Gibbon More----

Clifford.--You will forgive me for interrupting you, sir, but you will recollect, that although we allowed Grant to tell us what he knew about the castle, we have just laid it down as a rule, that we are to have no more long stories upon empty stomachs. Let us hasten to see the interior of this chateau, and then to Grantown and to dinner with what appetite we may. You shall dine with us, and I shall book you for there giving us Gibbon More, or any More you may be possessed of.

Dominie.--Your pun is most excellent, sir, ha! ha! ha!--your reproof is most just, and your invitation most kind, and readily accepted. And as I can be of little use to you here, gentlemen, perhaps I shall be most benefeecially employed, both for your interest and my own, by stepping my ways on to Grantown, and looking to the preparation for your accommodation and entertainment at the inn.

Author.--No, no, sir, we have already secured all that by the gilly who has preceded us with the pony. We cannot part with you so, your information may be useful to us.

Clifford.--This huge pile seems to have been built at various periods, and with no great taste. That tower is the only picturesque part about it.

Grant.--That is called the Cumin's Tower, and it is perhaps the only very old fragment of the building. The most modern part is the northern front, the style of which is quite inappropriate.

Clifford.--Come, let us hasten to discuss the interior; my appetite at present is sufficiently sharp, yet it is for something more digestible than granite and mortar.

We hurried through the castle, admired the great hall, some fifty feet by thirty in size, and were particularly delighted with some of the old family portraits, which are extremely curious as to costume.

Clifford.--What a fierce old white-bearded fellow that is in the bonnet and tartan plaid, drawing a pistol as if he was about to shoot us. I should not like to meet in a wood with such an one as he appears to have been, unless I met him as a friend.

Dominie.--That is old Robert Grant of Lurg. I can tell you many a story about him. He was surnamed old Stachcan, or the Stubborn; and--a----

Clifford.--Unless you are determined to deserve that surname, as well as ever the said Robert Grant did, you had better attempt no more stories till after dinner, my good friend. And now, methinks, we have seen enough of these bearded, belted, and bonneted heroes; and if you have no objections, I think we may as well proceed to march into quarters for the night.

A walk of little more than a mile brought us to the village of Grantown, and a period of time something less than a couple of hours found us all seated, after a very good dinner, round a cheerful fire, each preparing to light his cigar, and moderately to sip the fluid that was most agreeable to him.

Clifford (opening his tablets).--Let me see what my book says. Ha!--Legend of the Raid of Killychrist--Building of Ballindalloch--Gibbon More--Old Stachcan! The raid comes first--the raid stops the way,--so drive on with the raid if you please.

Author.--Since you desire it, I shall do so, in order, as you say, to get it out of the way. But I must tell you that the Raid of Killychrist does in fact form so small a part of that which I have to narrate to you, that I might rather call it the Legend of Allan with the Red Jacket.

Clifford.--Pray call it what you please, but quocunque nomine gaudet, let us have your legend, if you please, without further loss of time.

LEGEND OF ALLAN WITH THE RED JACKET.

As a prelude to the legend of the Raid of Killychrist, or Christ's Church, I must condemn you to listen to a considerable portion of the previous history of the great rival clans of MacDonell and MacKenzie, which led to that event. A deep-rooted feud had existed for many years between these two neighbouring Highland nations, as I may well enough call them. So savage was their mutual hatred, that no opportunity was lost, upon either side, of manifesting the bitterest hostility towards each other. They were continually making sudden incursions with fire and sword into each other's territory,--burning cottages--destroying crops--driving away cattle--levying contributions on defenceless tenants--carrying off hostages, and massacring such unfortunate individuals or straggling parties as might happen to fall in their way, without always showing much regard to age or sex. It was one unvarying history of rapine and bloodshed, uninterrupted except at such times and for such periods when both parties happened to be too much exhausted to act on the offensive.

It was fortunate for the MacDonells, that about the beginning of the seventeenth century Donald MacAngus MacDonell of Glengarry, chief of the clan, had so harried the MacKenzie country in one dreadful and destructive raid, and had so swept away its wealth and thinned its people, as to have rendered them comparatively innocuous for a number of years; for, during the lapse of these, he became so old and infirm, as to be not only quite unable for any very active or stirring enterprise, but he would have been unequal to the defence of his own territories against the inroads of his neighbours. He had two sons, but neither of them was old enough to relieve him of the cares and fatigues incidental to the government of such a clan. Angus the eldest, indeed, although only some fifteen or sixteen years of age, was extremely bold and impetuous. Like the most forward and best-grown eaglet of the aerie, he would have often rashly braved, with unpractised wing, the storms which raged around the cliff where he was bred, had it not been for the wholesome restraint which the old man was with difficulty enabled to put upon him, and which he could hardly enforce, even with the assistance of his nephew, Allan MacRaonuill MacDonell of Lundy, who being then in the prime of life, acted as captain or chief leader of the clan Conell.

Allan of Lundy, so called from the loch of that name near Invergarry, was the pride and darling of the clan, and it was not wonderful that he should have been so, for he possessed all those qualities which were likely to endear him to Highlanders in those savage times. He was remarkable for his great activity of body, for his wonderful agility in leaping, and his extraordinary swiftness of foot, and endurance in running. But these were not the qualities which the clansmen most especially prized in him; for, whilst he was kind to every one who bore the name of MacDonell, he was ever ready to visit those who were their enemies with the most ruthless and remorseless vengeance. He delighted in wearing a splendid jacket of scarlet plush richly embroidered with gold, and when the day of battle came, the brave MacDonells always looked to that jacket as to a rallying point, with as much devotion and confidence as they looked to the banner of the chief himself, for they were always certain to see it in the front of every charge, and in the rear of every retreat. It was from this that he acquired his most distinguished cognomen, that of Allan with the red jacket.

It was not surprising that a youth of a haughty and impetuous temper, like that of Angus MacDonell, could ill brook the well intended admonitions which he received from a cousin, upon whose interference in the affairs of the clan he was taught, by the vile insinuations of certain sycophantish adherents, to look with a jealousy which was but an ill requital for all Allan of Lundy's affection towards him. That affection, though it came from a bosom which was capable of nursing that fierce and cruel spirit which animates the tiger, was deep and sincere. It was an affection which had its basis in gratitude, in love, and in veneration for the old chief, his uncle, who had been to Allan as a father, and, therefore, it was born with the birth of the boy Angus. It was an affection which had grown stronger and stronger every day with the growth of its object, on the development of whose character the future happiness and glory, or misery and disgrace, of the clan, must depend. It was an affection, in short, which nothing could shake, and which even the often unamiable conduct of Angus towards him could never for one moment chill.

It happened one rainy and tempestuous night, that whilst a party of clansmen, returning from some distant expedition, were approaching the gate of Invergarry Castle, they suddenly encountered a tall man wrapped up in an ample plaid. He started when the MacDonells came upon him.

"Friend or foe?" cried the leader of the party.

"A friend!" coolly replied the other, "unless you are prepared to tell me that the days are past when a MacIntyre may claim hospitality from a MacDonell."

"The day can never come when a MacIntyre shall not be welcome to a MacDonell," replied the other. "Are they not but as a limb of the goodly pine stock of clan Conell? say, what wouldst thou here?"

"I am a wayfaring man," answered the stranger, "and all I would ask is shelter and hospitality for an hour or twain, till this tempest blow by."

"Thou art come in the very nick of time, my friend," said the MacDonell, "for, hark! the piper has gone to his walk, and he is already filling his drone as a signal for us to fill our stomachs. The banquet is serving in the hall, so in, I pray thee, without more delay; trust me, we are as ready as thou canst be for a morsel of a buck's haunch, or a flagon of ale."

The old chief of the MacDonells had already occupied his huge high-backed chair on the dais, at the upper end of the hall, and his eldest son Angus, and his cousin Allan of Lundy, the captain, and the other chieftains of the clan, had taken their seats around him, and the greater part of the places at the board had been filled, as rank might dictate, down to the very lower end of it, when the stranger was announced,--

"Give him entrance!" cried the hospitable old chief. "This is a night when the very demons of the storm seem to have been let loose to do their worst. No one would drive his enemy's dog to the door in such a tempest. Were he a MacKenzie we could not see him refused a shelter from so bitter a blast. A MacIntyre, then, may well claim a hearty welcome."

The door of the hall was thrown open, and the stranger entered. He doffed his bonnet, and bowed respectfully to the chief, and to those assembled, yet his countenance remained partly shrouded by the upper folds of his plaid, which had been drawn over his head as a shelter from the fury of the elements, and it now hung down thence so as entirely to conceal his person. There was enough of him visible, however, to show that he was a tall, broad-shouldered, and very athletic man, in the prime of life, with large fair features, small sharp eyes, overhanging eyebrows, severe expression, and a profusion of yellow hair and beard that very much assisted in veiling his face. The retainers who were nearest to him eagerly scrutinised his plaid, as such persons were naturally enough wont to do; but it was so soiled with the mud-water of the mosses in which it seemed to have been rolled, that knowing as some of them were in the tartans of the different clans, they could not possibly make out the set of that which he wore. They saw enough, however, to satisfy them that it was green, and as they knew that to be the prevailing hue of the tartan of the MacIntyres, they examined no further.

"Friend, thou art welcome!" said the chief; "a MacIntyre is always welcome to a MacDonell. Take your seat among us as your rank may warrant, and spare not the viands or liquor with which the board abounds--Slainte!" and with this hospitable wish of health and welcome, he emptied the wine cup which he held in his hand.

"Thanks!" said the stranger, bowing his head with an overstrained politeness; and without more ado he seated himself in a retired and rather darksome nook, near the lower end of the board, where he immediately engaged himself deeply, and without any very great nicety of selection, with such eatables and drinkables as came within his reach, so that he speedily ceased to be any further interruption to the conversation which had been begun at the head of the table, to which everyone had been most attentively listening when he came in.

"What sort of hunting had you to-day, Angus?" said Allan of Lundy.

"I brought down a royal stag," replied Angus, with an air of sullen dignity.

"That was well," replied Allan of Lundy; "it was as much as I did."

"And why should I not do as much as you, cousin?" demanded Angus somewhat peevishly.

"When you come to your strength, Angus, you may perhaps do more," replied Allan.

"My body," said Angus haughtily, "aye, and my mind, too, are strong enough for everything that a chief of Glengarry may be called upon to perform. And now I think on't, father," continued he, turning towards the chief, "I grow tired of this wretched mimicry of war which I have so long waged against the deer of our hills. I would fain hunt for bolder game. It is time for me to be hunting the Cabar Fiadh [1] of the MacKenzies! Why should our ancient enmity against them have slept so long? We seem to have forgotten the disgrace of that ignominious day, never to be washed out but in rivers of MacKenzie blood, when fifty galleys of our clan fled from before the Castle of Eilean Donan, defended as it was by no other garrison than Gillichrist MacCraw and his son Duncan alone, when a single arrow from the boy's quiver pierced our chief, and dispersed his formidable armament. Let us hasten to wipe away so foul a disgrace."

The speech of the young chief of Glengarry had been repeatedly cheered during the time he was speaking; and he finished amidst vociferous applause. The stranger in the green plaid halted in his meal to bend an anxious attention to everything he uttered.

"Angus," said the old chief, "you have spoken unadvisedly, boy. These are subjects fitter for the private chamber of council than for the festive board. You, moreover, seem to have forgotten that the quiet which the MacKenzies are forced to keep, is owing to some successful enterprises of my own, from the humbling effects of which they have not even yet recovered."

"If that be the case, father," cried Angus energetically, "let us keep them down when we have them down! Let me finish what you so nobly began. Promise me that you will grant me to lead a raid against these stags-heads. Promise me, dear father!"

"A raid! a raid led by the young chief!" cried the vassals, starting up from the table as one man with enthusiastic shouts.

"Aye," said Angus, "and the young chief shall not go unattended. Every warrior of the name of MacDonell, nay, every marching man who can trace one drop of his blood to the clan Conell, shall share in the glory to be gathered in the first raid of Angus MacDonell against the MacKenzies!"

"All shall go! all shall go!" cried the clansmen who were present.

"Aye, all shall go!" cried the young chief, warming more and more with the applause he was receiving. "And here, as a good omen of our success, here have we this night a MacIntyre among us. You, sir," continued he, addressing himself to the stranger in the green plaid, "you shall bear a message from me to your chieftain. Tell him to whom you owe service, that the tenth day of the new moon shall be the day of our gathering. It is long since our war-cry of Craggan-an-Fhithick has rung in a MacKenzie's ear!"

"Craggan-an-Fhithick!" shouted the clansmen.

"Tell him to whom you owe service, that Craggan-an-Fhithick shall once more rend the air," said Angus; "and that the young chief of Glengarry shall lead a raid against the MacKenzies, of the fame of which senachies and bards shall have to speak for ages to come."

"I shall surely bear your message to him to whom I owe service," said the man in the green plaid, after rising slowly, and making a dignified but respectful bow. And then putting on his bonnet, and gathering his plaid tightly about him, he paced solemnly and silently out of the hall, and departed.

"Methinks you have been somewhat rash and hasty in this matter, Angus," said the chief, with a cloud on his brow. "I have as yet given no consent. What think you of this affair, Allan of Lundy?"

"Much as I am wearying to wreak my vengeance on the MacKenzies," replied Allan of Lundy, "I do think that my young cousin has been somewhat precipitate in this matter. A year or two more over his head would have confirmed his strength, and made him fitter for enduring the fatigue of such an enterprise. He is too young and unripe as yet to be gathered by death in the bloody harvest of the battlefield. The loss of one of so great promise would be a severe blow to our clan."

"The loss of me, indeed?" cried Angus, with a lip full of a contempt which it had never before borne towards Allan of Lundy, and which Allan of Lundy could not believe had any reference to him. "If you did lose me you would only thereby be the nearer to my father's seat."

"Speak not so, Angus!" said Allan with a depth of feeling to which he was but little accustomed. "Speak not so, even in jest."

"Come then, MacDonells," cried Angus again, "let our gathering be for the tenth day of the new moon, and let the dastard MacKenzies once more quail before our triumphant war-cry of Craggan-an-Fhithick!"

"Craggan-an-Fhithick!" re-echoed the clansmen, with a shout that might have rent the rafters; and deep pledges instantly went round to the success of the expedition.

At this moment Ronald MacDonald, the chief's younger son, a shrewd boy of some eight or ten years of age, entered the hall,--

"What has become of the stranger in the green plaid?" cried he eagerly.

"He is gone," answered several voices at once.

"Then was he a foul and traitorous spy," said the boy. "When my brother was speaking about the raid, I perceived that he was devouring every word he was uttering. His grey eye showed no friendly sympathy. I resolved to watch him, and the more I did so, the more were my suspicions strengthened. I was struck with the dirty state of his plaid. As it was green it might have been MacIntyre. But to make sure of this I borrowed old nurse's shears, and whilst he was intent on what Angus was saying, I contrived to get near to him unperceived; and I clipped away this fragment, which nurse has since washed--and see!" said he, holding it up to the light of a lamp that all might have a view of it. "See! it has the alternate white and red sprainge of a base and double-faced MacKenzie!"

"MacKenzie, indeed, by all that is good!" cried the old chief. "Out after him, and take him alive or dead!"

"Fly!--after him!--out! out!--let us scour the country!--haste, haste!--out, out!" were the impatient cries that burst from every one in the hall, and in an instant there was a rushing, and a running, and a mounting in haste, and a flying off in all directions. Shouts came from different quarters without the castle walls; and by and by all was silence, for those who had gone in various ways after the fugitive were already out of hearing; and after a night of fruitless toil, they returned in wet and draggled parties of two and three, each expecting to hear those accounts of success from others which they themselves had it not in their power to give, and all were equally disappointed.

It now suits my narrative best to leave the Castle of Invergarry for a while, in order to notice what passed some little time afterwards in that of Eilean Donan, where Kenneth MacKenzie, Lord Kintail, was seated in his lady's apartment trifling away the hours. A page entered in haste.

"My lord," said he, "Hector Mackenzie of Beauly is here, and would fain have an audience."

"Hector of Beauly!" exclaimed Lord Kintail, "what, I wonder, can he want? With your leave, my lady, let him be admitted. Hector," continued his lordship as his clansman entered, "where have you come from, you look famished and jaded?"

"'Tis little wonder if I do, my lord," said Hector, "for the last meal of meat that I ate, and though good enough of its kind, it was but a short one, was in the Castle of Invergarry."

"The Castle of Invergarry!" cried his lordship in astonishment.

"Aye, in the Castle of Invergarry, my lord," continued Hector; "and if my meal there was short, I have had a long enough walk after it to help me to digest what I ate."

"Are you in your right mind, Hector?" demanded his lordship. "Quick, explain yourself."

"I cannot say that I altogether intended to honour the Glengarry chief's board with my presence," said Hector, drawing himself up; "but having some trifling occasion of my own to pass through the Glengarry country, I rolled my plaid in a moss-hole, and took the wildest way over the hills; and thinking that I might pass unnoticed amidst the darkness and howling of a most tempestuous night, I ventured so near to the castle, that before I knew where I was, a band of MacDonells were suddenly upon me. Seeing that there was nothing else for it but to brave the danger, I had presence of mind enough to pass myself for a MacIntyre, was invited into the castle, sat at the same table, and feasted with the old raven and his vassals, and heard that young half-fledged corby Angus MacDonell plan and arrange a raid of the whole clan Conell and its dependent families against the MacKenzie country. Taking me for a MacIntyre, he told me to bear his message to him to whom I owed service. To give obedience to his will, therefore, I have travelled without stop or stay, or meat or drink, save what I took from the running brooks by the way, in order that I may now tell you, my lord, to whom I owe service as my chief, that the MacDonells' gathering is to be for the tenth day of the moon, when their fire and sword will run remorseless through our land."

"Hector, you are a brave man," said Lord Kintail, "you shall be rewarded for this. Meanwhile hasten to procure some refreshment and repose; for assuredly you must sorely need both."