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squirrelling away a pocket sketchbook and a couple of pencils in my sporran. I wasn t
certain whether it might put people out of countenance if I sketch during the investiture
itself.
 I shouldn t think so, Adam said with a chuckle.  It s certainly no more obtrusive than
taking photographs - less, actually - and I don t think there s any problem with that.
Besides, I know you ll be discreet. Quite frankly, most of the knights of my acquaintance
would take your artistic interest as a compliment.
 Good, because aside from the serious work we have to do, events like this are a treasure
trove of inspiration for an artist, Peregrine said.  It s like stepping onto the stage of a
historical costume drama, and all in living color!  I suppose one could look at it that
way, Adam agreed. They went on to discuss the general game plan for the afternoon as
they sped across the Forth Road Bridge and on along the sweeping curve of the
Queensferry Road, mostly ignoring the good-natured glances they attracted en route - for
the sight of the open sports car bearing two attractive Scottish gentlemen in traditional
dress invariably turned heads and occasionally elicited waves from appreciative ladies of
all ages.
A light mist had started to descend by the time they threaded their way southward into
Palmerston Place, which fronts the Gothic splendor of the Episcopal Cathedral of St.
Mary. They were fortunate to find another car just pulling out of a choice parking space
in an adjoining side street, and Adam waved an appreciative half-salute in the other
driver s direction before whipping the Jaguar into the space just vacated.
Tossing their caps into the back of the car, he and Peregrine made short work of putting
the top up and locking up the car, then headed briskly back toward the cathedral s front
porch. Peregrine, with his zipper case under his arm , was already in his element, happily
noting details of attire of the other guests arriving. Almost all of the men were kilted, but
many of them sported Highland finery of earlier times, recalling the real history
underlying such romances as Rob Roy and The Master of Ballantrae.
They strode up the main steps under a grey sky increasingly threatening serious rain. As
they entered through the great doors, passing through the narthex into the cathedral s
spacious interior, Peregrine immediately became aware of a sense of reverent expectancy
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charging the air with unseen energy, different from any of his previous visits to the
cathedral. Off to his left, in the receding shadows of the north aisle, he could see the
beginnings of a procession forming up. He decided that the handful of men and women
who formed the leading ranks of the procession must be postulants, for they wore no
regalia as yet. But behind these, he caught glimpses of other figures moving to and fro in
a shifting panoply of white mantles emblazoned at the left shoulder with the red Templar
cross - members of the Order s existing chivalry.
He slowed in his tracks, intent on catching a better look, but at that point, a big barrel-
chested man appeared around the corner of the choir screen and hailed them with a wave
of a meaty hand.
 Ah, there s our host, Adam said, heading them in that direction.  Come and let me
introduce you to Stuart MacRae.
MacRae, Peregrine decided, would have made a striking subject for portraiture. Tall
above average, and stout as an oak tree, he wore the red tartan of his clan with the
informal assurance of a born Highlander. The effect was further heightened by the fact
that his grizzled chestnut hair was pulled back in a queue, in the style of a Jacobite laird,
tied with a velvet ribbon. White teeth gleamed in a broad smile through a luxuriant thatch
of chestnut beard as he came forward to pump Adam s hand.
 Ah, there you are! he said heartily.  Welcome, Sir Adam! Glad you could make it!
 So am I, Adam responded.  Stuart, I d like you to meet Mr. Peregrine Lovat, one of
my associates. He s also a very fine artist, and hoping to find some inspiration here today.
Peregrine, Stuart MacRae.
 Well, then, welcome, Mr. Lovat, MacRae said, offering Peregrine a hearty handshake.
 I think I ve heard your name before.
 Only good things, I hope, Peregrine responded, smiling.  I m very glad that Adam let
me tag along. I ve been looking forward to it.  Well, I hope we don t disappoint you,
MacRae said cheerily.  In any case, I m always happy to meet a friend of Sir Adam s. He
did tell you, I hope, that the date of this investiture commemorates a very special Jacobite
connection to the Templars?
 No, I don t think so, Peregrine replied, glancing at Adam, who shrugged minutely.
 Ah, well then. On September 27, 1745, Prince Charles Edward Stuart received Scottish
Knights of the Order of the Temple at a special reception in the Palace of Holyrood, at
which time the Prince himself became a Templar. There s a braw painting in one of the
Queen s galleries that I like to think was meant to depict the event. Being an artist, ye
may know it, Mr. Lovat. It shows the Prince flanked by Lochiel and Pitsligo, the Chiefs
of Clan Cameron and Clan Forbes - a broody, darkling picture.
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 If it s the same one I m thinking of, I know it well, Peregrine said.  The artist was
John Pettie. It s one of the more dashing paintings I ve ever seen of the Prince, but as an
artist, I ve always been more intrigued by the other two faces. The background is very [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]