The youthful face looked troubled in the firelight. “It’s true King Charles hasn’t always obeyed the rules,” murmured Montrose. “That is why I supported the Covenant at first. But then I saw the greater danger we courted. If a group of subjects takes over the king’s power, they may become a far worse tyrant than ever a king could be, and that is what happened. You see yourselves how the Covenant oppresses the people; and I think those who are fighting for the Parliament in this war may find that they’ve used their own blood and their own fortunes to buy vultures and tigers to rule over them. To tell you the truth, my friends, I don’t know the right way to handle a king who abuses his power, but I do know that this is the wrong way. Perhaps there should be some limit set to the amount of power that one man or group can have.”
Kelpie chewed her lip thoughtfully. Och, now, and there was a good idea. She could think of several such whose power should be limited to nothing at all. She would begin with Argyll and the Covenant, and go on to the Lowlander and Mina and Bogle. But how would one set about arranging this?
In her preoccupation, Kelpie forgot that she was hiding and carelessly shifted her position so that a twig cracked. A small twig it was, and most folk would never have noticed, but these men were well schooled in danger. Three heads turned as one, and an instant later Antrim’s huge hand was plucking her from her hiding place as he would a puppy.
“Dhé!” He chortled, holding her up in the orange light of the fire and looking her over with interest. “Here’s a fine dangerous enemy in our midst.”
“Och, indeed and I am not!” protested Kelpie as well as she could. She tucked in her lip and looked pathetically at Montrose. “Do not be letting him hurt me, your Lordship!” she begged in English. “’Tis only a poor, wee, harmless—”
“Let her down, Alistair,” suggested Montrose gently, “and perhaps she can tell us what she was doing there.”
“Spying for Argyll, perhaps?” suggested Patrick narrowly, looking at her gray dress.
Kelpie’s indignation was genuine. “That nathrach!” She sputtered earnestly and went on to curse him vigorously. “He is a droch-inntinneach uruisg and a red-haired devil with a black heart in him!”
Montrose, who knew little Gaelic, looked interested. “What was that?” he inquired, and Antrim chuckled.