Read Online A History Maker by Alasdair Gray - Free Book Online

roaring outside. Behind the veterans every cadet in Ettrick between eleven and fourteen years seemed crowded into the eastern lobby, grinning or open-mouthed or trying to look as grim as he felt himself. On the stair to the officers’ mess the house servants stood like servants in the mansion of a Victorian duke assembled to welcome the young laird home. They were ranked behind the major domo, a stately giant with whiskers bushier than the fiercest veteran’s. He said, “Master Wattie, I hope at last I may persuade you to a dram?”
    â€œThanks Jenny. I have asked Sandy for one.”
    â€œMaster Sandy will receive it from my hands.” The major domo led Wat upstairs processionally with Sandy beside him and the veterans in the rear. Martial discipline ensured a decent silence among them but did not lessen the deafeningbellow outside which still made sense to those who knew the words —
    â€œEngland shall many a day
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â    tell of the bloody fray,
    When the Blue Bonnets
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  came over the Border! ”

    The officers’ mess was under the gable above the eastern lobby. Wat was appalled by its emptiness. A week ago over two hundred cheerful men most of them in their late teens and twenties, had been drinking, laughing and chatting there; the dozen veterans now converging on the bar emphasized the difference. So did three cripples in orthopaedic chairs playing a game of whist: Colonel Tam Wardlaw, Rab Gillkeeket and Davie Deuchar. Wat had not seen them since the charge downhill with the standard. He went over and stood looking down on the game but they gave no sign of recognition though the Colonel said to the others, “Here comes trouble. I pass.”
    â€œSolo,” said Rab.
    â€œMisère,” said Davie.
    Wat covered his embarrassment by saying,
    â€œNorthumbria has made a bonny mess of you three.”
    â€œWe might have been as fit as you if we’d rolled off a cliff,” muttered Rab.
    â€œTrue,” said Wat abruptly, “Public eyeballs are snooping outside. D’ye mind doing with less daylight, Colonel?”
    Colonel Wardlaw shrugged a shoulder.
    â€œFrost the window, Jenny!” Wat called to the major domo behind the bar. Between the double sheets of glass a paperthin water fall slid down then froze into starry white patterns which broke the appearance of the crowd and the hills outside into jagged shadows. Wat pulled a chair up to the table and sat watching the players until the Colonel said, “Do you want a hand?”
    â€œI want news from Geneva.”
    Tam Wardlaw handed him a printed sheet. Wat held it without reading until his young brother put a whisky in the other hand.
    â€œWattie Dryhope is at The Macallan,” sang Davie softly.
    â€œNot possible!” said Rab, “Dryhope never touches alcohol. It upsets his chemistry.”
    â€œHe’s drinking it now,” said the Colonel, “His chemistry must be out of order.”
    â€œGive us peace,” muttered Wat and read the printout.
    The Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva has considered General Dodds’s complaint against the recent draw between Ettrick and Northumbria United. General Dodds accuses Ettrick of obtaining the result by a foul pretence of surrender which did not take place, resulting in the murder of at least three Northumbrians who dropped their guard having been deceived into thinking the battle over. As proof of this he refers the Council to the public eye battle archive .
    Â Â Â 
    The Council has scrutinized the battle archive closely and believes there is good reason to condemn Ettrick but not for the action to which General Dodds objects. That