CROMWELL—FOR THE CROWN
 MONTROSE gave everything for his King, even his life, and his King rewarded him by forsaking him. He made no effort to save him
from death, and even denied that he had commanded him to make war in Scotland. There was little gratitude in Charles
II., and now, seeing that there was no other way to the throne, he signed the Covenant, and accepted the crown from the
hands of the men who had just killed his truest follower.
Scarcely a month after the death of Montrose, Charles landed in Scotland. Once more Edinburgh was ablaze with joy, and
riotous with the sound of cheers and bells, as Charles signed the Covenant, listened to long and solemn sermons, and
promised many things.
He did not care what he promised, so long as he won the crown. But he soon found that he was treated more like a
prisoner than a king.
Charles was very young. He was gay and merry, and he brought many friends with him, who were as gay and as merry as
himself. But these friends did not please the solemn, stern Covenanters, so they sent them all away. Instead of
laughing, dancing, and playing cards, Charles found himself obliged to go about with a grave face, and to listen every
day to long sermons. Once he had to hear no less than six sermons in one day. On Sundays, he was not even allowed to go
for a walk.
 Charles grew so tired of this dull life, that one night he ran away. But the Covenanters followed him and brought him
back. They saw, however, that if they wanted to keep their King, they must not treat him so sternly, and after that he
had a little more freedom.
But the English Parliament had abolished kings, and had made it a crime for any one to call Charles King. So Cromwell
marched into Scotland to fight against the very men, who, so lately, had been fighting for him.
But the Scots were ready. Encamped in a good place near Edinburgh, with plenty to eat and drink, they quietly awaited
the English. For a dreary, rainy month, Cromwell and his men lay opposite. There was little fighting; hunger, cold, and
wet did their work. Horrible disease raged throughout the English camp; men sickened and died by hundreds. At last,
without having fought any great battle, Cromwell decided to go homeward.
Then the wary Scottish general made a false move. He left his safe position to meet the English, and was surprised and
defeated near Dunbar.
After this, Cromwell had no thought of going home. He marched on through Scotland, taking towns and castles. His
unconquered Ironsides, as his soldiers were called, were everywhere victorious.
All this time, Charles had not been with the army. Now, while Cromwell was marching through Scotland, he was crowned at
Scone. The crown was placed upon his head by the Marquis of Argyll, one of Montrose's bitterest enemies. Then taking
command of the army, the King marched into England, leaving Cromwell in Scotland.
Charles hoped that the English Royalists would rise and join him, and that he would be able to make himself master of
England while Cromwell was out of it. But
 no sooner did Cromwell discover what Charles was doing, than he followed him.
At Worcester the armies met. Again the Royalists were defeated, and Charles, seeing his cause utterly lost, fled in
disguise. After many adventures and dangers, he escaped at last to France.
This victory Cromwell called his "crowning mercy," for by it the last hope of the Royalists was shattered.
When Cromwell went away from Scotland, he left one of his generals called Monk, with five thousand men, to carry on the
war. One by one the towns and castles of Scotland yielded to him.
But one castle called Dunnottar held out bravely, and would not yield. The English, however, were determined to take
this castle, for they knew that within it were the Regalia, that is the crown, sceptre, and sword of state of Scotland,
and they wanted to seize them and carry them away to England.
So cannon boomed and roared, and shook the castle walls. Food grew scarcer and scarcer; death stared the brave defenders
in the face. Still they would not yield.
The Governor of the castle was called George Ogilvie. He had married a beautiful and clever lady named Elizabeth
Douglas. She was with him in the castle, and now that it was impossible to hold out any longer, she thought of a plan by
which the Regalia might be saved from the English.
"Let me have the Regalia," she said, "and I will send them away to a safe place. I will not tell you where, so when the
English ask you, you can truly say that you do not know."
George Ogilvie knew that he could trust his wife, so he gave the Regalia to her. She then carried them away to another
brave lady called Mrs. Granger, the wife of
 a minister. Together they wrapped the jewels up in bundles of linen. Then Mrs. Granger asked the English general to
allow her to leave the castle, and to take with her some bundles of linen which belonged to her.
The general gave her leave, and Mrs. Granger calmly walked out with her bundles, mounted upon her horse under the very
eye of the general himself, and rode away. Indeed, as he was a polite gentleman, he helped her to mount, and to arrange
her bundles. No doubt the brave lady's heart beat fast, and she was terribly afraid of being found out, but she looked
so calm and unconcerned that no one suspected what precious things were hidden away in these bundles.
As soon as Mrs. Granger got beyond the English line she rode fast until she reached her own home. Then she gave the
Regalia to her husband, and he going secretly into the church at night, dug a hole under the pulpit and laid the jewels
in, and covered them over again.
When Mrs. Granger had gone, Dame Elizabeth told her husband that the jewels were safe, and he, knowing that it was
useless to hold out any longer, surrendered to the English. And because they had fought so gallantly the English general
promised him and all his soldiers their lives and freedom.
So, next morning, with drums beating and colours flying, the little band of soldiers marched out. There were only
thirty-six of them. They were pale and thin, some of them were wounded and ill and scarcely able to walk. But they made a brave
show and held themselves proudly, for they had fought to the last for their King, and they had saved his crown from the
English. George Ogilvie's young son carried the royal standard. He was the last man to carry the King's colours in
Scotland for many a day.
 When the little garrison had marched out, the English entered the castle. They searched everywhere for the crown jewels,
but nowhere were they to be found. Then, being very angry, they seized George Ogilvie and tried to force him to tell
where they were. But he did not know. He could not tell, and would not have told even if he could. In the cruel manner
of the time, they tortured him to make him speak, but he would not. Then they tried to bribe him; but neither torture
nor bribery were of any use, and at last this brave husband and wife were put in prison.
Day or night they were never left alone. A sentinel was always beside them, so that they could not say a word to each
other without being heard.
At last, Dame Elizabeth became ill. Although she was so brave and bright, like a piece of true steel she could not bear
the close damp prison. All that she had to suffer wore out her strength, so that she died. Just before she died, and not
till then, did she tell her husband where the jewels were, and he promised never to tell the English. And he never did.
Long afterwards, when King Charles came back again to reign, the jewels were found safe in the church where the minister
had hidden them. He and his wife were rewarded by a sum of money; George Ogilvie was made a baronet, but Sir John Keith,
a gentleman who had had nothing to do with hiding the jewels at all, but whose name had been used to put the English off
the scent, was made an earl.
It seems a pity that the right person did not receive the greatest reward, but George Ogilvie and his wife, Dame
Elizabeth Douglas, will always be remembered among the patriots to whom Scotland owes her unconquered crown.