Rob Roy Page #2

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This country does not agree with me.

I cannot wait to be|out of the damnable place.

The sentiments of|a great many of us, sir.

Would you like me|to take away your chamber pot?

I know many a Scotsman would be|glad of this on a cold morning.

It's almost pure spirit,

and I'm no judge of a pint of pish.

Come back.

Come here!

I killed Tam Sibbald|yesterday morning.

We played ball once at Creiff market.

I remember shouting,|"Well done, Tam",

when he made a run.

And there he was,|hung on the end of my dirk like meat.

Aye.

Well, likely it was necessary.

Aye, it was.|Necessary enough to save worse.

But those tinkers|weren't all born broken men, Mary.

Some of them had kin and clan.

They made me fear|I might have come across

one of our own among them.

McGregors are not tinkers.

But a hard winter or two away,|some of us...

What's gnawing on you, Robert?

I've made up my mind|to borrow money from Montrose

to buy cattle at Creiff market|and sell at Carlisle.

How much money?

1,000.

Believe me, Mary, it will turn profit.

6 in Creiff is 12 in Carlisle.

And I know cattle.

I can drive them faster|and deliver them fatter

than any man in the kingdom.

Why would the Marquis of Montrose|lend a McGregor 1,000?

For profit, what else?

It's an investment as much as a loan.

So it's business partners you are now,|you and the Marquis.

Keep that tongue for your boys, woman.

I didn't tell you my mind|to be flayed for it.

You know I love the bones of you,|Robert McGregor.

But you take too much to heart|that cannot be helped.

It must be helped.

All right,

but not today.

I got yous.

I got the two of yous!

Got the two of yous!

Move on.

Father,

will McGregors ever be kings again?

All men with honour are kings,

but not all kings have honour.

What is honour?

Honour is

what no man can give you

and none can take away.

Honour is a man's gift to himself.

Do women have it?

Women are the heart of honour,

and we cherish|and protect it in them.

You must never mistreat|a woman or malign a man,

nor stand by and see another do so.

How do you know if you have it?

Never worry on the getting of it.

It grows in you and speaks to you.

All you need do is listen.

All right, lads,|enough of the finer things.

You've animals to tend to|and water to haul.

Your mother and me|will be down directly.

Take the basket.

Come on!|I'll race you down the hill.

Do you know how fine|you are to me, Mary McGregor?

So fine.

Is that why you sent them away?

To tell me how fine I am?

Or did you want to make a silk purse

out of my sow's ear again?

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

What a wanton I'm wed to.

You know what the old wives say

about these standing stones?

No. What do the old wives say... old wife?

Ow!

Ow. Come here.

What do they say?

So, what do they say?

They say the stones make men hard

and women fertile.

We've no need of them, you and me.

You know how fine you are to me,|Robert McGregor?

This tailor in Glasgow|to whom you owe 87

extended this credit|because you were my guest?

Or as you prefer to frame it,

a member of my household.

I can assure Your Lordship

I have in no manner indebted him.

And now Killearn tells me

that you are saddling|one of my serving wenches.

Damn it, sir! Your mother|did not send you to me

to debauch innocent girls.

I regret that I have|so offended Your Lordship.

By your leave, I will remove myself.

And to where,

might I ask?

You are penniless. You have no mount.

You know no-one.

To where would you remove yourself?

Have you some notion

of presenting yourself|at the Duke of Argyll's door

and soliciting his patronage|as his new champion?

I am Your Lordship's to command.

Remember your place, sir!

That's all I ask of any man.

What is next?

McGregor, My Lord.

You may go, Archibald.

You bear no arms?

I hadn't planned|on demanding terms at sword point.

Robert McGregor of Craigrostan,|My Lord.

So, McGregor...

I knew your father,|an able man, if not a wise one.

Have you taken on his mantle?

As best I may, My Lord.

So, how many men are you master of?

Master of none, My Lord,

but some 200 souls|live close by Craigrostan,

and they're in my care.

You are a profit and provider to them,

is that not so?

What I can, I do.

It is no great matter|compared to Your Lordship's work.

To know one's place, McGregor,

in the order of things|is a great blessing.

What terms, Killearn?

A fifth, My Lord.

A fifth, you say?

What, is this man kin|that you offer such kindly terms?

Am I not accustomed|to a quarter on unsecured loans?

McGregor has 300 acres|at Craigrostan, My Lord.

Ah. A man of property|intent on growing richer.

Well, we have more in common|than I would have suspected, McGregor.

1,000 for 3 months, you say,

and these acres of yours as security?

And my oath.

Ah, yes.

Tell me, is there something|in what Killearn says

that you might have driven off my cattle

and returned them with stories of tinkers|caught and summarily executed?

I have, in my day, thieved cattle,

but none that were under my watch.

Is that what passes for honour

with a McGregor?

What passes for honour with me

is likely enough|the same as with Your Lordship.

When my word is given,

it is good.

Well, you are to be congratulated

on such cheaply bought nobility.

Killearn will draw papers.

I will expect the terms to be met.

My thanks to Your Lordship.

Aye, but it's a fine,|bold signature you have,

worthy of a chieftain himself.

Are you Rob Roy McGregor?

I am. And what's your name?

Davey Anderson.

Hello, Davey Anderson.

Hello.

Even the servant boys|know who you are.

You've become a famous reiver|and retriever in your own lifetime.

Business and profit.

And a soft winter.

Are you Rob Roy McGregor?

I am.

I'm Will Guthrie.

You heard of me?

No, I have not.

Well, I've heard of you.

Indeed.

And what have you heard, Mr Guthrie?

I heard you backstabbed Tam Sibbald.

Were you and Tam kin?

Near enough.

I shagged his sister.

Likely so did Tam.

You want the wind|let out of your bladder?

What's your business with me, Guthrie?

Business best done outside.

We have no quarrel.

That can be remedied.

The first cut?

Aye.

Well done.

Some other time

when we're both sober.

Tam Sibbald has a longer reach dead|than he ever did living.

I'm away home.

Keep the pony|and stick to Killearn till you have the note.

I'll see you back in Craigrostan.

I'm to wait here till the note is signed.

Aye. We are the obedient one.

Fetch and carry at command.

Why has a smart young lad like you

attached himself to a bunch of tinkers?

I would have thought you more fit

To serve a man like my master,|the Marquis of Montrose.

I do not serve Robert McGregor.

I'm his friend

and count myself fortunate to claim it.

My God, what a crew|you Highlanders are.

With your airs and honours,

come begging 1,000 as if you|were doing the lender a favour.

Sheep shaggers, the lot of ya.

Baa!

My mother could come no nearer

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