Rob Roy Page #6

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Or else what?

You'll tell Rob|how Cunningham used ya?

I have another picture

not so noble

of you stood in Lomond Water,

washing between your legs.

Hmm?

I wondered many a time|since that morning,

did you wash Archie out of you,

or is he still in there,|growing into his father?

He is.

He is!

Well, I have a proposal|for you, Mistress McGregor.

Persuade your man that|Cunningham alone killed his man

and kept the money entirely,

and I will not speak|of what you have

inside ya.

Rob would be hard pressed|to love such a bastard,

would he not?

But you know the saying, Mary.

'Tis a wise father|knows his own child.

And if you'll not say anything,|neither will I.

You have my word on it.

Aagh!

St...

Stop!

Stop!

Oh! Cut... me!

Ah! Stop!

She cut me.

The b*tch cut me!

Mary, are you hurt? Hmm?

Are you hurt?

What have you done, woman?

Ow!

Am I cut bad?

Am I cut bad?!

Not bad enough for me.

I mean, my God,|what made you do such a thing?

I have as much cause|as you in this. More.

He must confess.

He will never confess.

Betty was right.|He has the devil in him.

He's my prisoner.|Don't you understand?

Oh, Robert,|there are things you must know,

things I have to tell you.

So?

Tell me.

There was...

Well?

He's dead, Rob.|I could do nothing.

Oh, Robert, listen to me now.

There's no time for talk now.

Alasdair, can you sink a man?

Aye.

Cut the wind out of him,|put a rock in his belly,

take him out where it's deep.

Montrose will scour us out.

We must make sure|you and the lads are safe.

Deep, mind you!

I am mocked by this rogue

who you took to deliver me broken.

'Tis myself who will be broken|if these raids go on.

Now my factor is abducted|in plain view.

Am I gone mad?

Your Lordship...

Do not,

do not, I say, speak in my stead.

There's something here|that I do not see.

Killearn and you have|some hand in matters

that is hid from sight.

This tells me that you are in cash,

yet I know you are without means.

Gaming, Your Lordship.

The cards favoured.

Do you take me entirely|for a Whig, sir?!

I care not what you|and that greasy capon have cooked up

but put an end to this impudence|against me.

I am James Graham,|Marquis of Montrose,

and I will not be mocked.

You hear me?

We can't let them burn,|loot, and ride away.

We should hit them, Rob.

Cunningham is there.|He's the one that...

I know who he is.

Have you no thought|to avenge Mary for that?

There's 30 or more men.|They'd ride us down like sheep.

Alasdair McGregor is no sheep.

Coll's right. We can do nothing.

Damn the wee fool!

Scatter! Find your own way home!

Heh heh heh!

There they are!

After him!

I want McGregor!

Fire, you fools! Fire!

I hit one of them.

And it will cost us, I'm thinking.

Yah!

Move!

I want McGregor!

God's curse on you|for a brother, Alasdair.

I want McGregor!

You're getting too old|for the wars, Rob, eh?

Agh!

Come on!

Fire! Fire, you fools! Fire!

Put me down.

Shut your mouth.

Run, Rob, run!

Go on, Rob! Run for yourself!

I want McGregor!

I want McGregor! After him!

Be quiet!

Hold still. Hold still.

Knocked the breath out of me.

Rob,

I can't feel my legs.

Are they there?

Aye, aye. Your legs are fine.

Forgive me, Rob,

for I can't forgive myself.

Save your breath, lad.

I couldn't have saved her, Rob.

They were done with Mary|before I reached her.

She made me swear not to tell you.

I'm sorry.

Done what with Mary?

Done what?

She said...

She said if she could bear it...

What of Mary, Alasdair?

Rob, I can't see.

I'm here, Alasdair.

What of Mary? What of it?

They...

They violated her.

Alasdair,

who did this?

The mist is clearing.

Be ready.

Be ready!

You men, search upwards!

Uh!

Follow!

Heeyah!

Where is he? Over there!

Get the horse!

Well, well...

The great McGregor|come to hand at last.

Well, how does it seem to you tonight,|McGregor?

Is God's great plan|for us all to your liking?

"Broken but not dead"|was His Lordship's request.

I will do my part|if you will do yours

and not die before|the bridge at Glen Orchy.

Tell me,

what did you do|with that bag of guts, Killearn?

Vex me not, McGregor,

or I shall have you dragged awhile.

I'm a man of my word.

You're a thief, a murderer

and a violator of women.

Ah, I had hoped you'd come to me|long since on that score.

If I had known earlier,

you would have been dead sooner.

I will tell you something|to take with you.

Your wife was far sweeter forced

than many are willing.

In truth, put to it,|I think not all of her objected.

I appreciate the honour you do me,|Mistress McGregor,

in bringing your case.

But from all|I'm acquainted with your husband,

he has earned the enmity|of the Marquis of Montrose

by borrowing money|that he cannot repay

and ever harrying|his stock as blackmail.

There is more to|the matter, your Grace.

I'm sure there is,

but it is not part of mine|to intrude myself,

sensible as I am to your condition.

It's a hard thought,

but men make the quarrels,

and women and weans bear them.

Your Grace, Robert finds himself|in this condition

for taking "your" part.

My part?

What cause had he to do that

and in what manner?

He refused to condemn you|by false witness

when the Marquis asked him|to say you were a Jacobite

to injure your name at Court.

Montrose asked this of him?

In remission of this debt.

But Robert refused.

I did not know|your husband bore me such good will.

Indeed, I think he favours you

no more than any great man.

"As wolves at lambing"

is his word for you all.

It was not done for Your Grace

but for his own honour,

which he holds dearer|than myself or his sons,

his clan or kin,

and for which I have oft chided him.

But it is him and his way,

and were he other,|he would not be Robert Roy McGregor.

He would not come here before you,

nor would he favour me|to do so in his stead,

but I have no choice

unless I give him up|entire to his enemies.

And though I love his honour,

it is but a moon-cast shadow|to the love I bear him.

For the grace of God,

I have his child inside me

and I would have a father for it.

You do your man no dishonour, Mary.

Faith, he is a man|much blessed by fortune.

They have McGregor, My Lord.

Cavalry, halt!

Broken but not dead, Your Lordship,

as you requested.

Ungag him.

So, McGregor,

what have you to say for yourself?

I have been wronged by Your Lordship

and by those who serve him.

"You" are wronged?

You?

If I am not much mistaken,

it is myself that is short 1,000,|whose cattle is reived,

and whose factor, Killearn, is abducted.

Then ask this thing here|where your money is

and where he sunk|Alan McDonald after he killed him.

Same accusations|he spat at me, Your Lordship.

Desperate words from a desperate man.

Do you have proofs of these matters?

You have my word on it.

Oh, I think it will take more than that.

Then you have the nature|of this man here.

If Your Lordship cannot|tell what is true

from what is not,

then I fear his judgement|is beyond repair.

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