Page 33 of MacGregor

Chapter 31

  Killin to Garvamore - Friday 14th February, 1746

  The Gregarach war band trotted briskly along the side of Loch Earn. It had been thought possible that the Campbell militia at Finlarig might have sufficient strength to bar their route. To avoid this threat they took the hill pass from Dalveich at the northwestern end of Loch Earn, up through Glen Beich. The snow lay deep in the sheltered parts of the glen. Here, part way up the hill, the ground had been scoured almost bare of snow. The driving wind sent fragments of ice and snow through the air, penetrating and stinging at exposed flesh. The Gregarach held together in a compact group, taking it in turns to lead into the teeth of the gale. Those inside enjoyed comparative shelter until their turn came round again.

  Near the head of the column strode Rob with James Mòr, Ranald and Duncan Macpharrie. Between them they had raised more than one hundred and fifty of the men who had returned to their homes after Falkirk. Added to the hundred still with Glengyle and Glencarnaig they would have a respectable regiment once more.

  At last they began their descent to the comparative mildness of Ardeonaig by the waters of Loch Tay. Darkness was soon to be upon them for they had been late leaving Balquhidder. They took shelter for the night in a little corrie. The wind howled above them. They soaked their plaids to keep the penetrating wind out and huddled together for warmth. With no dry material to light a fire with, they dined, perforce, on oatmeal soaked in cold water. Otherwise the night was uneventful. The next day, just before dawn, they were on their way again along the southern shore of Loch Tay. Wet and cold, they broke into a fast trot, drying and warming themselves as they went.

  At last they came to Taymouth Castle. Their route took them close by its walls. The castle was the principal seat of the Earl of Breadalbane, although two centuries earlier it had been a MacGregor house. Breadalbane was as wily as any of his ancestors and not to be trusted. Although some of his followers had not been discouraged from joining the Jacobite army, he had contributed others to militia companies in Government service. Now that it was becoming clearer that the rising would not succeed, it would be in Breadalbane’s interests to demonstrate his support for the government. The castle loured menacingly but its sentinels must have been asleep. The Gregarach had passed by before they were seen. A cannon was discharged, but the ball flew wide. The next fell short. There was no pursuit.

  They crossed the River Tay. Its cold waters were in spate. Then they forded the river Lyon. The tryst was appointed for Coshieville. For safety, while they waited they occupied nearby Garth castle. Its owner, William Stewart of Garth, had only recently abandoned the fourteenth century stronghold of the Wolf of Badenoch for more comfortable accommodation.

  Next day, the Jacobite army arrived. Though not much more than three thousand strong, it was stretched out over several miles. Half of the army, led by Lord John Drummond had travelled by Coupar Angus to Aberdeen. Lord John’s division escorted most of the baggage and artillery. Still, this division included lines of laden horses formed into columns that seemed interminable. They were accompanied by a detachment of the lightest artillery. The route of the Highland division had been via the military road from Crieff to Amulree and Aberfeldy.

  Glengyle and Glencarnaig were close to the head of the column. Lochiel and his Camerons led the vanguard.

  Once more together, Rob could look back on the Clan Gregor regiment in column of march. These were the strength of his people. His heart swelled. They were in retreat, but they had not been defeated. Although the regiment waxed and waned in numbers like the passage of the moon, they had suffered very few losses. Fortune could yet turn in their favour. The Prince might still come into his own.

  The march continued by the new military bridge over the Tummel and to Dalnacardoch. They marched through the bleak midwinter gales. The Boar of Badenoch stood on one side and the Sow of Atholl on the other, their summits hidden in cloud.

 
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