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Authors: James Robertson
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mid-fifties. When he stumbled, Mitchel asked hesitantly if he felt unwell.
‘I am fine, I am fine,’ he said. ‘Just weary. It’s a hard path that we have trod since Graham was dealt with. Scotland was delivered out of his hands, it seems, only to be given over to Cromwell and his vile English army. And now they say when Cromwell and the English go, we’ll hae a Stewart back again. All this suffering, all this long dark nicht, and for what? You say you heard nothing, but when I look up at Graham’s head, I sometimes fancy I hear him laughing at us.’
He stopped as they reached the top of the West Bow, and they stood looking down the long street, across which a few well-wrapped figures were flitting. Weir coughed and spat on the ground.
‘I had him in my charge the night before he was executed,did ye know that? In that very prison which his head now adorns. He laughed at us then, the savage. Combing his locks and preening himself, and brushing out his finery as if God would care a docken what he looked like when He cast him into the furnace. And he spurned the services of the ministers sent to attend him by the General Assembly – good men, strong in the Covenant that he himself had signed and then betrayed, Davie Dickson and James Durham and James Guthrie and Robert Traill. He said he, the Marquis of Montrose , would make his own peace with God. Doubtless he’d have corrected God if God didna address him by that false title. He was a proud and foolish man, James. There was a huge scaffold biggit for him, thirty feet high, and the street was tight with folk come to see him die. But when I took him out there in the forenoon, he still would not show remorse for his crimes. He climbed that thirty feet as if he were going to his bed.’
He broke off and drew himself up to his full height, and rapped the staff hard on the stones. ‘But we are stronger,’ he said sharply. ‘We are stronger because we have God with us. The godly will prevail.’
‘I believe that,’ said Mitchel, as they started to walk again. ‘It is oor destiny. Principal Leighton at the college, afore oor laureation, tendered tae us the Covenant, and I subscribed tae it. Ye canna tak some and no the haill o that document. It is signing away your life tae Christ.’
‘The life of the haill nation, James, but you see how many who have signed it have fallen away from its principles. Beware of Robert Leighton even. His tongue speaks the right words, but he is ower tolerant. The land is full of holy wobblers like him, and they are a great danger. At least a man like Montrose, you could mark him for an enemy.’
At the foot of the Bow, where their ways parted, Weir stopped again, but did not release his grip.
‘Will you not come to the meeting, Maister Mitchel? You a graduate and a man of the right party. Why do we not see you at our meetings? Do you not like my company, or the sound of my voice?’
‘Na, na, I hae often heard ye preach,’ said Mitchel. ‘And admired ye, tae.’
‘You should hear me pray,’ said Weir. ‘A sermon is a text with a wind at its back. But prayer, prayer is wind and fire together. Why do you not come?’
Mitchel shook his head, and looked away to the bottom of the Grassmarket, behind which the last of the light was now a deepening red in the sky. ‘I am uncertain,’ he said, then added in an embarrassed mumble, ‘if I hae grace.’
He felt Weir shift his position, heard him sigh heavily.
‘You are very young, James. Ye needna be ashamed. You have grace. Look at me when I tell ye this. You have grace. You are of the elect. I can feel it.’
‘I must be sure, though,’ Mitchel said. He looked at the blaze in the older man’s eyes, and longed for such conviction.
‘There’s no harm in prayer, even if you are in a state of doubt,’ Weir told him. ‘Prayer can lead to assurance. You should come.’
But Mitchel stepped back. ‘I am indebted tae ye, sir. And I will come. But no this nicht. This nicht
‘I am fine, I am fine,’ he said. ‘Just weary. It’s a hard path that we have trod since Graham was dealt with. Scotland was delivered out of his hands, it seems, only to be given over to Cromwell and his vile English army. And now they say when Cromwell and the English go, we’ll hae a Stewart back again. All this suffering, all this long dark nicht, and for what? You say you heard nothing, but when I look up at Graham’s head, I sometimes fancy I hear him laughing at us.’
He stopped as they reached the top of the West Bow, and they stood looking down the long street, across which a few well-wrapped figures were flitting. Weir coughed and spat on the ground.
‘I had him in my charge the night before he was executed,did ye know that? In that very prison which his head now adorns. He laughed at us then, the savage. Combing his locks and preening himself, and brushing out his finery as if God would care a docken what he looked like when He cast him into the furnace. And he spurned the services of the ministers sent to attend him by the General Assembly – good men, strong in the Covenant that he himself had signed and then betrayed, Davie Dickson and James Durham and James Guthrie and Robert Traill. He said he, the Marquis of Montrose , would make his own peace with God. Doubtless he’d have corrected God if God didna address him by that false title. He was a proud and foolish man, James. There was a huge scaffold biggit for him, thirty feet high, and the street was tight with folk come to see him die. But when I took him out there in the forenoon, he still would not show remorse for his crimes. He climbed that thirty feet as if he were going to his bed.’
He broke off and drew himself up to his full height, and rapped the staff hard on the stones. ‘But we are stronger,’ he said sharply. ‘We are stronger because we have God with us. The godly will prevail.’
‘I believe that,’ said Mitchel, as they started to walk again. ‘It is oor destiny. Principal Leighton at the college, afore oor laureation, tendered tae us the Covenant, and I subscribed tae it. Ye canna tak some and no the haill o that document. It is signing away your life tae Christ.’
‘The life of the haill nation, James, but you see how many who have signed it have fallen away from its principles. Beware of Robert Leighton even. His tongue speaks the right words, but he is ower tolerant. The land is full of holy wobblers like him, and they are a great danger. At least a man like Montrose, you could mark him for an enemy.’
At the foot of the Bow, where their ways parted, Weir stopped again, but did not release his grip.
‘Will you not come to the meeting, Maister Mitchel? You a graduate and a man of the right party. Why do we not see you at our meetings? Do you not like my company, or the sound of my voice?’
‘Na, na, I hae often heard ye preach,’ said Mitchel. ‘And admired ye, tae.’
‘You should hear me pray,’ said Weir. ‘A sermon is a text with a wind at its back. But prayer, prayer is wind and fire together. Why do you not come?’
Mitchel shook his head, and looked away to the bottom of the Grassmarket, behind which the last of the light was now a deepening red in the sky. ‘I am uncertain,’ he said, then added in an embarrassed mumble, ‘if I hae grace.’
He felt Weir shift his position, heard him sigh heavily.
‘You are very young, James. Ye needna be ashamed. You have grace. Look at me when I tell ye this. You have grace. You are of the elect. I can feel it.’
‘I must be sure, though,’ Mitchel said. He looked at the blaze in the older man’s eyes, and longed for such conviction.
‘There’s no harm in prayer, even if you are in a state of doubt,’ Weir told him. ‘Prayer can lead to assurance. You should come.’
But Mitchel stepped back. ‘I am indebted tae ye, sir. And I will come. But no this nicht. This nicht
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