God's Highlander (41 page)

John Garrett was shaken to the core, but he tried to pull himself
together and exert the authority he believed he still possessed. ‘If what you say is true, my letter
may
be worthless, but I
am
still factor of the Kilmalie Eskaig estate. I can still run it in the manner I think is best.'

‘Not quite, John. Yes, you
are
the factor, although no doubt
my
recommendations to the new Lord Kilmalie will be considered very carefully – especially after I complete my investigations into the whereabouts of large sums of money paid by owners of sheep to obtain sheep-walks on Kilmalie land. Money that has failed to reach my office. In the mean time, as executor for the late Lord Kilmalie I, too, possess wide powers. I have exercised those powers today, by having your remaining clearance orders called in. Will you kindly ensure that any still in your possession and not yet executed is returned to the sheriff's office at the earliest opportunity?'

Charles Graham leaned back in his chair, the palms of his hands flat on the table before him. ‘I would like you to continue as factor for the Eskaig estate – at least, for the time being. I expect you to do so with the good of the estate at heart. Are there any questions you wish to put to me, John?'

John Garrett stood up abruptly, the muscles of his face twitching. ‘Go to hell, Graham – and don't gloat,
Minister Jamieson
. I'm not done yet. Not by a long way.'

The factor stalked from the room, very nearly knocking over the serving-girl as she returned to the room.

‘Oh dear.' Charles Graham looked at Wyatt in mock surprise. ‘I seem to have upset John – and I never told him of his daughter's marriage to Alasdair Burns!'

‘He knows.' Wyatt stood up and shook the hand of the Edinburgh man warmly. ‘Coming as it does on top of your news, he won't want to face his new son-in-law just yet. Returning to
your
news, who is the new Lord Kilmalie?'

‘Ah! Now, there's something that's kept a great many people busy. Major Jock was Lord Kilmalie's only close relative, and it's been necessary to make extensive enquiries to find an heir to the Kilmalie estates. It
has
been settled, at last, although there is still doubt about the inheritance of the title. Fortunately, the title has very little significance for the man who now possesses the Kilmalie lands. He already has a somewhat superior peerage of his own. Indeed, it must be one of the oldest titles in the land.'

‘Who is the man with this ancient title?' Wyatt prompted.

‘I'm sorry, didn't I say? It's the Earl of Glenadon – the
sixteenth
Earl. Isn't he some relation to the minister you brought to one of my parties in Edinburgh?'

Wyatt nodded, his thoughts ranging too far ahead for speech. This could prove to be the best news Eskaig would ever have. The Kilmalie estates had been inherited by the brother of Minister Coll Kennedy!

 

That evening was spent in a strange mixture of celebration and sadness for Wyatt. Celebration because Alasdair and Evangeline were wed and the tenants of the Kilmalie Eskaig estate were to enjoy at least a temporary reprieve from the clearances. Sadness as he remembered the death of Lachlan Munro and the fact that the Eskaig Highlanders might have only a temporary reprieve. It would certainly not affect the extensive clearances being carried out elsewhere. Wyatt accepted he was witnessing the passing of a way of life. One that had been doomed since the Highland forces of the young Prince Charles Stuart suffered a crushing defeat on the battlefield of Culloden, almost a hundred years before. Yet, after Culloden, the surviving clan chiefs and their followers had shared a fierce pride in retaining their joint heritage. Now it was the successors of Scotland's hereditary chiefs, the ‘lairds', the landowners, who were clearing the Highlands to make way for sheep.

Wyatt had taken a room at the inn, it proving impossible to return to Eskaig that evening. There was no moon that night to guide him along the indifferent roads. Besides, in the morning he intended travelling north to Letterfinlay, to speak to Coll Kennedy.

Wyatt had warned Evangeline and Alasdair to expect John Garrett to interrupt their celebrations, but the evening passed without incident. Either Garrett had verified the legality of the Scots form of marriage and decided against confronting his daughter and newly acquired son-in-law, or he was still trying to come to terms with the shattering news he had received from Charles Graham.

I
T WAS UNDOUBTEDLY Wyatt's feeling of well-being that prompted him to take the shorter and easier route to the cave at Glenfintaig. It took him closer to the home of General Lindsay, the Letterfinlay landowner, but today Wyatt was willing to chance a meeting with the Free Church-hating landowner. He wanted to discuss the new turn of events with Coll Kennedy, and return to Fort William before the emigrant-ship sailed for Canada. By then he hoped to be able to persuade the Highlanders to return to their old homes.

He had asked Alasdair Burns to arrange the funeral of Lachlan Munro for his return, and to despatch someone from Eskaig to inform Eneas Ross of what was happening. By doing this Wyatt hoped to forestall any trouble from the Ross family and their friends.

Wyatt was less than two miles from his destination when he was stopped by a gamekeeper. The man carried a sporting gun and stood among broken rocks to await the arrival of the Eskaig preacher. Wyatt had seen the man when he was still far back along the trail. He had contemplated leaving the trail and scrambling down the slope to the river-fed glen a thousand feet below, but decided against such a move. It would serve no useful purpose. The gamekeeper could do the same and still confront Wyatt if this was what he intended to do.

It was. Stepping on to the path in front of Wyatt, the gamekeeper held his sporting gun pointed at the Eskaig minister as he asked: ‘Well, now, what do we have here? And what might a preacher be doing on General Lindsay's land?'

‘Good day to you, Keeper. I'm passing through, on my way to see a friend.'

‘The general wouldn't be at all pleased with me if he heard I'd allowed a man of the cloth to “pass through” his lands. You see, if
you're a minister of the established church, he'll likely offer you refreshment and send you on your way with a donation towards your stipend. If you're not … well, I'd rather not talk of unhappy things on such a fine day. If you'll just go back the way you've come, you'll see a path leading down towards the bridge. General Lindsay's house is the large one among the trees. I'll be walking right behind you every step of the way.'

They walked without talking all the way to the house, although the gamekeeper occasionally whistled a snatch of a tune.

The house by the bridge was surrounded by a high garden wall, and Wyatt paused at the large wooden gate.

‘Go on through. We'll no doubt find the general up at the house. I hope for your sake he's in one of his rare good moods.'

General Alexander Lindsay was not in the house, and he was not in one of his rare good moods. He was in the garden berating a gardener for some minor indiscretion. The gardener was on his knees beside a flowerbed, and the red-faced landowner frequently belaboured his employee about the shoulders with a walking-stick to emphasise a particular criticism.

The footsteps of Wyatt and the gamekeeper crunching on the river-gravel of the path caused the irate landowner to turn to meet the new arrivals. The gardener threw a relieved glance in Wyatt's direction before crouching to his task once more. Then General Lindsay confronted Wyatt.

‘I caught a preacher trespassing along the glen towards Upper Glenfintaig, General. I thought you'd want to speak to him.'

‘Trespassing, eh? And a minister, my gamekeeper says.
Are
you a minister, or are you one of those turncoats who want to change everything and move another step closer to anarchy – like that scoundrel Kennedy?'

Wyatt's heart sank at the general's disparaging reference to the ejected Letterfinlay minister, but he did not allow it to show.

‘I'm a minister of God, General. Accepted by the people of my parish to serve them. But, yes, I
am
looking for Minister Kennedy – that's if it's the same Kennedy you're talking about. Minister
Coll
Kennedy? Brother of the Earl of Glenadon?'

General Lindsay had spent a lifetime in the Army. He had retired to Scotland and purchased the lands at Letterfinlay. Wyatt knew of Coll
Kennedy's reticence in talking of his family and had taken a gamble that the fiery old army man knew nothing of Coll Kennedy's family connections.

The gamble paid off.

‘Eh? What are you talking about? I'm speaking of Minister Kennedy who was preacher at my church in Letterfinlay – until he threw in his lot with this new-fangled “free church” nonsense.'

‘We're talking of the same man, General. Coll Kennedy is brother to the sixteenth Earl of Glenadon. He's also a man of great principle, prepared to lose a comfortable home and living when there was a clash between material and spiritual considerations.'

While the Letterfinlay landowner mulled over Wyatt's revelation, Wyatt played what he hoped might prove to be his trump card.

‘By the way, General. You wouldn't be the officer who fought with the Ninety-Second Regiment through the Peninsular campaigns and as a major held the position on La Haye Sainte at Waterloo?'

‘Eh?' General Lindsay was startled. ‘That's right, I was at Waterloo – and held the knoll at La Haye Sainte. That's why I have to use this damned stick. But what do you know of it, eh? You're far too young to have been there yourself – and you're a minister, aren't you?'

Wyatt had no intention of reopening
that
discussion, ‘I haven't always been a minister. I was in the Army before I studied for the Church. I was a captain in the Seventy-Second. We formed part of Colonel Harry Smith's army in the wars against the kaffirs in Natal. I've often heard him speak of you.'

‘Old Harry … of the Ninety-Fifth? Now, there was a man with the luck of the devil – if you'll pardon the expression, Minister. At Badajos it was, in Spain. We had to fight damned hard for the town. When the battle was won the troops got out of hand and sacked the place. Someone brought a fourteen-year-old Spanish girl to Harry seeking his protection. Pretty little thing she was, with a trim figure. Damned if Old Harry didn't fall head over heels for the girl and marry her! Most of us thought he was mad, but do you know that girl followed him through the whole campaign. Thought the world of him! Not only that, she turned out to be the finest army wife any soldier could have wished for. She was the making of old Harry Smith.'

The general beamed happily at Wyatt. ‘So you fought alongside old
Harry Smith, eh? Come on inside the house and share a bottle of something special with me. Not every day I have the opportunity of chatting to another army man….'

With a hand resting affectionately on Wyatt's shoulder, General Lindsay led him to the house and in through the door. Behind him the forgotten gamekeeper watched in disbelief as the two men passed from view.

 

That afternoon, in the cave high on the mountainside above the river, Wyatt told an incredulous Coll Kennedy that the Letterfinlay minister had been invited to return to his church and the manse from which he had been so forcefully evicted only a few weeks before. What was more, General Lindsay wanted Coll Kennedy to explain to him the reasons why so many ministers had broken away from the Establishment and formed their own church. Of course, if Coll Kennedy also felt able to arrange for the general to be introduced to the sixteenth Earl of Glenadon at some later date….

Coll Kennedy poured another drink for himself when Wyatt shook his head to decline a refill. ‘I don't know how you did it, Wyatt. Most of the teachers I've had were inclined to say that modern-day miracles are restricted to the Catholic Church. Now I'm not so certain.'

‘The Lord works in devious ways right enough, Coll. I don't doubt He had a hand in sending an ex-army pastor along the shortcut to Tam Vass's distillery today. He probably also had a hand in setting the gamekeeper on sentry duty at the right time. I wouldn't like to analyse His motives, though it could be to return you to your flock. On the other hand, it might be that He wants to remove you from so much temptation.'

‘It might also be the power of Tam Vass's prayers. He swears I'm drinking away his profits.' Coll Kennedy took another drink of whisky and looked about him at the smoke-filled cave. ‘I'll miss this place, Wyatt. It's been an experience I'll never forget. But being exiled here makes me feel like a one-legged man representing the Lord in a race. I can't do Him the service He deserves. I'm grateful to you, Wyatt, and very much in your debt.'

‘You owe me nothing, Coll. We're both working towards the same end. But I'll be forever in
your
debt if you can arrange a meeting for me with your brother – the new laird of Kilmalie.' Wyatt had already
told the Letterfinlay minister of the startling news brought to Fort William by Charles Graham.

Throwing back his head, Coll Kennedy emptied his glass and rose to his feet.

‘There's no time like the present. It's been a long time since I last visited the ancestral home. As congratulations would seem to be in order, let's go and pay a call on brother Seoras.'

 

Glenadon had been the seat of the earls of Glenadon since the fifteenth century, and the family had lived on the site for as many years before. The two men reached the fortified house in Glen Moriston at dusk that same day after travelling deep into the Highlands north of Loch Lochy.

Coll Kennedy had borrowed a donkey from Tam Vass for Wyatt, but it was even more vicious than the Letterfinlay minister's own mount. Wyatt completed the journey leading his donkey and with a painful bite on his thigh.

From the somewhat shabby state of the house and many of the buildings in the grounds, it was evident that the lords of Glenadon were not among the wealthiest of Scotland's many peers. Coll Kennedy explained that this was due to the custom in the Kennedy family of producing as many sons as was humanly possible. This, said Coll, was a result of the Kennedy habit over the years of becoming involved in the wars of their neighbours and forfeiting the lives of many of their sons in the process.

From the conversations Wyatt had previously held with his fellow-preacher, he had formed the opinion that Coll Kennedy was the ‘black sheep' of the Kennedy family, his relatives all deeply relieved when he left home. That this was not the case was made quite evident during the course of the evening.

Seoras Kennedy, sixteenth Earl of Glenadon, was delighted to have a visit from his younger brother, and the Earl's charming and aristocratic wife echoed her husband's delight. Their only regret seemed to be that none of the other Kennedy brothers lived close enough to be invited to share in the reunion that night.

Wyatt quickly realised that Seoras Kennedy belonged to the true Scottish aristocracy, in spite of his quiet, unassuming and rather ‘bookish' manner. Yet the sixteenth Earl treated Wyatt as an equal and
with great warmth. It made it easy for Wyatt to tell him the reason for the visit when Coll Kennedy brought up the subject of his brother's latest inheritance.

Wyatt spoke of the Highlanders who lived in the mountains; of the Rosses; of Lachlan Munro; of Seonaid and her blind father; and of the latest clearances.

When Wyatt ran out of words, the Earl of Glenadon said: ‘What is it you would like me to do?'

‘I'd like you to tell the Highlanders they might remain in the mountains, where they belong.'

Seoras Kennedy looked thoughtful. ‘I know very little about Kilmalie lands. They are making a profit, so I'm told, but I believe it to be a marginal one.'

Looking at Wyatt in silence for a while, he said: ‘It's a regrettable economic fact of life that landowners need to bring sheep into the hills in order to make a profit. I am no exception. You say great tracts of land have already been cleared of tenants? Would they
all
want to return to their old homes?'

Wyatt remembered his conversations with the dispossessed tenants and cottars in the school and in the churchyard. The words of those on the road to Fort William who intended to take a boat to a new life.

‘A few would. I suspect many others have had enough. They've made the break and wouldn't go back now.'

Seoras Kennedy nodded. ‘It's much the same elsewhere in the Highlands. Very well, I'll tell you what I'll do. There will be no more clearances, you have my word for this; but those who have been dispossessed will not be returned to their old tenancies. Those lands have been cleared for sheep; and if this factor is like others of his ilk there will already be sheep there. However, they
will
be given an equal amount of land within areas already tenanted. As far as is possible, they may choose their lands. In the event of any disputes I will be the final arbiter. They can have two rent-free years as compensation for what they've lost. For the following two years they will pay the same rent as they were paying before. If they've lost stock in the clearances, I'll do my best to make it up from what I have on Glenadon lands. In other words, Minister Jamieson, I'll do all I can for them short of giving them money – that is rather hard to come by at the moment. How does such an arrangement sound to you?'

It was more – far more – than Wyatt had dared hope to achieve when he set forth from Fort William that morning. It was an honest and generous settlement by the new landowner of the Kilmalie estates. When Wyatt tried to express his gratitude, the Earl cut short his thanks.

‘
I'm
a Highlander, too, Minister Jamieson. I belong to a family which prides itself on honouring the duties life has imposed upon it. However, the root of the problem would seem to be Factor Garrett. Charles Graham has already expressed
his
thoughts on the man to me. I'll get rid of him, of course, but I shall need a replacement. Is there anyone you could recommend?'

When Wyatt hesitated, Coll Kennedy spoke the name of the man Wyatt had in mind.

‘There's a very good man, and he's living in Eskaig right now. Alasdair Burns – or Alasdair Burns Anderson, to give him the name he was born with.'