It was still broad daylight when, at half-past six, Oswald left the inn
and sauntered, at a leisurely pace, down the street. His eye at once
fell on Roger's tall figure, and he also saw two retainers of the earl,
loitering about. They were not the same men he had seen in the morning,
but doubtless had relieved those on watch.
He took the first turning off the main street and, after passing
through several lanes, found himself at the foot of the town wall. A
narrow lane ran between it and a row of small houses. No one was about,
and he thought that Roger would take advantage of the loneliness of the
spot, to endeavour to rid him of his followers, whose footsteps he
could hear some distance behind him. Presently, he glanced carelessly
round. The men were some thirty or forty yards behind him; and coming
up with them, at a rapid step, was Roger. A minute later, he heard a
voice raised in anger.
"Where are you going, fellow? There is plenty of room to pass, without
pushing between us. You want teaching manners."
Roger gave a loud laugh.
"Who is going to teach me?" he said.
"I will!" one of the men said, angrily placing his hand upon his sword
hilt.
As he did so, he was levelled to the ground by a tremendous blow from
Roger's staff. With a shout, the other soldier drew his sword; but,
before he could guard himself, the staff again descended, and he fell
senseless beside his comrade.
Roger at once knelt beside them, tore off strips of their garments and,
rolling them up, pressed them into their mouths; and, with string which
he had brought for the purpose, tied them in their place. Then, taking
out a few pieces of cord he tied their hands behind them, and their
ankles together; dragged them into a dark entry, and left them lying
there.
The whole transaction had occupied but two or three minutes, and had
attracted no attention, whatever. The soldiers' shout might have been
heard; but there was no clashing of weapons, and a shout was too
unimportant a matter for anyone within hearing to take any trouble
about.
Oswald, seeing that Roger needed no assistance, had occupied himself
with stripping off the outer pair of leggings; and had made these, with
his cloak and cap, into a bundle; and, pressing the drover's cap down
over his eyes, was ready by the time Roger came up to him.
"It was splendidly managed, Roger."
"It did well enough," the other said, carelessly. "It may be an hour
before anyone stumbles over them; and, long before that, we shall be at
sea."
They made their way back through quiet lanes until near the port, and
then boldly went down to the side of a small craft.
"You are just in time, my men," the skipper said. "In another five
minutes, we should be throwing off the ropes and hoisting sails. Now
that you have come, we shall do so, at once. The tide is just right for
us, and we have nothing further to stop for."
The boat was a large fishing smack, and had put into Dunbar but that
afternoon, with the intention of disposing of the catch. Two others
had, however, come in still earlier. The market being glutted, the
skipper had determined to take his catch, which was a heavy one, on to
Leith; and had agreed, for a very small sum, to carry the two drovers
to that port.
Oswald and Roger aided in getting up the sails, and in a few minutes
the smack was at sea. The wind was from the southwest, and the boat ran
rapidly up the coast.
"The earl will be in a nice way, when he finds that you have gone,"
Roger said, as he stood in the stern to watch the rapidly receding
towers of Dunbar. "There will be a hot hue and cry for you. The earl is
not accustomed to be thwarted, and they say that he is a mighty
hot-tempered man. I have no doubt that, as soon as his fellows bring
him word of what has happened to them, and he finds that you have
quitted the inn, he will send parties of horse out to scour the roads
to Berwick and Haddington; and to search the country, far and near."
"He is welcome to do that," Oswald said. "My fear is that he will send
down to the port, to inquire if any craft put out about the hour at
which his men were attacked. But even if he does so, there is no great
chance of our being overtaken. We are travelling fast, and in another
hour it will be dark; and long before daybreak we shall reach Leith,
having both wind and tide in our favour, all the way."
They kept an anxious watch, as long as there was light enough for them
to make out if a vessel left Dunbar. Both fancied that they could see a
sail, just as twilight was falling, but neither could be sure that it
was not the effect of imagination. They were already ten miles away,
and as the tide had now begun to make along the shore, it was certain
that for some time, at least, a ship, however fast she might be, would
gain but little upon them, until she had fairly entered the Firth.
There would be no moon and, even should she overtake them, she might
well pass them in the dark.
When they lay down, they agreed that they would keep awake in turns;
and that, if they made out a ship apparently pursuing them, they would
offer the skipper the full value for his boat, and betake themselves to
it, and row for shore.
"The greatest danger," Roger said, "would be of their passing us,
unseen; and then lying-to near the entrance of the port, and
overhauling us as we came in."
"That is a danger that we cannot guard against. Can you swim, Roger?"
"It is years since I have done so," the monk replied, "but I used to do
so, in the old days."
"There is an empty cask here, by my side," Oswald went on. "If we are
challenged, the best plan would be to lower it down, quietly, into the
water; and to hold on by it. The boat would certainly go some distance,
before she had lost her way and brought up; and we should be out of
sight of both ships, before they came together."
"That is a good idea. If we hear a hail, I will at once cut a good
length of rope, and twist it round a barrel for us to hold on by. But I
don't think there is any chance of our being overhauled."
"I agree with you in that respect; still, it is just as well to have
our plans prepared, in case it should happen."
They kept a vigilant watch through the night, without catching sight of
any craft proceeding in the same direction as themselves.
It was still dark when the helmsman hailed the skipper: "I see the
lights of Leith ahead," and later they passed the beacon fire that
marked the entrance to the port. Five minutes later Oswald and his
companion, after paying the sum agreed on, stepped on shore.
"That danger is over. I did not think that there was any real cause for
fear. I should like to see the earl, as his bands of horsemen ride in,
today, with the news that they can hear nothing of us."
"I should like to hit him just such a clout, with my staff, as I gave
his two retainers," Roger said. "Earl as he is, it was scandalous, and
contrary to all usages, to arrest a messenger; especially when that
messenger is an esquire of one of equal rank to himself, and his
message, as I suppose, a friendly one."
"I don't so much blame him. He had no means of judging my discretion;
and the consequences, to him and others, had I fallen into the hands of
Douglas, or those of a marauding leader, might have been serious,
indeed. I doubt not that, had I been content to stay with him, he would
have treated me with all honour. I might even have done so, and have
got him to send another messenger to Percy; but the latter bade me to
return at once, and moreover said that he had another mission, as soon
as I had carried the present one to a successful termination."
"And have you done so, Master Oswald?"
"Yes, I think so, Roger. I was to ascertain the earl's real intentions
regarding certain matters, and I think that he means honestly to adhere
to an offer he made. The very fear that he has shown, lest his
intentions should be betrayed, seems to prove that he is most anxious
that naught should occur to interfere with his plans."
"The Earls of Dunbar have ever been a treacherous race," Roger said
earnestly, "and ready to betray their own countrymen, in order to curry
favour with England, and continue in possession of their estates.
However, as we have benefited from it, we need not grumble, if the
Scots are contented.
"Now, Master Oswald, what are we to do next?"
"I should say that we had better find a corner to lie down, until
daybreak. I don't think that either of us have slept. Then we will go
into a tavern and breakfast, and afterwards go on to Edinburgh. I
should like to see the town and castle, and the chance may never come
again to me.
"Then, tomorrow morning, we will start in earnest. We shall have plenty
of opportunities to talk over our plans, so let us lose no time, now,
in looking for a bed."
Fortunately, they soon came upon some fishing nets, carelessly piled
under the lee of a stack of timber. Here they threw themselves down,
and were soon fast asleep.
When they woke, the sun was well up. Fishermen were preparing to get up
sail; and those who had, like themselves, come in during the night,
were commencing to unload their cargoes.
"Look there!" Oswald exclaimed, as he pointed to a vessel, from whose
masthead floated a flag with the arms of the Earl of March. "She is
just entering the port. They did chase us after all, you see, but they
did not gain on our fishing boat."
"Well, methinks that we had better be off, at once," Roger said. "They
will soon learn which boat has come from Dunbar, and find out from the
men what were the disguises worn by us. So we had best lose no time in
getting out of Leith."
"They would never dare to seize us, here," Oswald said.
"I don't know that. If they have strict orders to bring us back, they
would not feel much hesitation in seizing us, wherever they found us;
knowing well enough that the burghers of Leith would not concern
themselves greatly about the capture of two drovers, who would probably
be charged with all sorts of crime. Were it one of their own citizens,
it would be different; but it is scarce likely that the burghers would
care to quarrel, with a powerful noble, for the sake of two strangers
of low degree. The gates will be open before this, and we shall be
safer in Edinburgh than we are here."
Accordingly, they postponed their breakfast and, passing through the
town without a pause, issued out by the south gate, and walked briskly
to Edinburgh. As soon as they arrived, they found a small tavern, and
partook of a hearty meal. Listening while they ate to the conversation
going on around them, they found that the young Duke of Rothesay was,
at present, staying at the castle.
"Men say that the disputes between him and his uncle, the Duke of
Albany, have of late grown hotter."
"That might well be," another said. "Rothesay is a man, now. He has
shown himself a brave soldier, and it is not likely that he would
support, with patience, the haughtiness and overbearing manner of
Albany. It was an evil day for Scotland when our good king, who was
then but prince, lamed himself for life; and so was forced, on his
accession, to leave the conduct of affairs to Albany, then Earl of
Fife. The king, as all men know, is just and good, and has at heart the
welfare of his subjects; but his accident has rendered him unfit to
take part in public affairs, and he loves peace and quiet as much as
Albany loves intrigues, and dark and devious ways. 'Tis a sore pity
that the king cannot make up his mind to throw himself into the arms of
Douglas, and call upon the nobility to join in expelling Albany from
his councils; and to give the charge of affairs into the hands of
Rothesay, or even to bestow upon him the kingly dignity, while he
himself retires to the peaceful life he loves."
"That would have been better done," the other said, "before the young
duke married; for many of the nobles, who would have otherwise
supported him, would hold aloof, seeing that the accession of Rothesay
would be but handing over the real power of the state from Albany to
Douglas. Men say that the feud between March and Douglas grows hotter
and hotter, and that the boldness with which March upbraided the king,
for the breaking off by Rothesay of his marriage with Elizabeth of
Dunbar, has so angered him, Rothesay, and Albany, who had aided in
bringing about the match with Elizabeth Douglas, that 'tis like that
March will, ere long, be arraigned for his conduct, and the threats
that he uttered in his passion."
"Well, gossips, it matters little to us," an elderly man said. "Whether
king or prince or duke is master, we have to pay; and assuredly, were
Rothesay king, our taxes would not abate; seeing that he is extravagant
and reckless, though I say not that he has not many good qualities. But
these benefit, in no way, men like ourselves; while the taxation to
support extravagance touches us all."
There was a murmur of assent from the little group who were talking,
who struck Oswald as being farmers, who had come in from the country to
sell cattle to the butchers of the town. They were interrupted in their
talk by the landlord, who came across to them.
"My good friends," he said, "I pray you talk not so loudly concerning
princes and nobles. It is true that we are a royal city, and that the
burghers of Edinburgh have their rights and their liberties;
nevertheless, it were dangerous to talk loud concerning nobles. We are
quiet people all, and none here wear the cognizance of Douglas or
Albany. Still, it would do me much harm, were it reported that there
had been talk here concerning such powerful nobles; and though the
Douglas might care little what was said of him, methinks that there are
others--I name no names--who would spare neither great nor small who
incurred their resentment."
"I knew not that we were talking loudly, John Ker; and methinks that
none, save the two men at the near table, have heard our words; and
they look honest fellows enough. Still, what you say is right, and
while we may talk of these things by our firesides, 'tis best to keep a
silent tongue, while abroad."
"You need not disquiet yourself about us," Roger broke in. "We have no
communion with lords or princes; and, so that we can drive our herds
safely down into Cumberland, we care not whether one noble or another
has the king's ear. We have but just returned, from England."
"Well, man, I may put you in the way of getting a job, if you want
one," the eldest of the party said. "I myself have a small farm, near
Lavingston, and but breed cattle for the Edinburgh market; but I have a
brother, at Lanark, who buys cattle up in the north; and, when there is
peace between the countries, sends the droves down to Carlisle, and
makes a good profit on their sales. I saw him but two hours ago, and he
told me that he was daily expecting a lot of cattle from the north; and
that he intended to send them on, without delay, to Carlisle. If you
say to him that you have seen me, and that I recommended you to call on
him, and see if he wanted any drovers to aid in taking them down; I
doubt not he will take you on, unless he has already engaged men."
"I thank you for the offer," Roger said, "but our home lies near
Roxburgh, and we intend to abide there for a time; for the roads are by
no means safe, at present. Douglas is thinking more of his quarrel with
Dunbar than of keeping down border freebooters. We escaped them this
time; but we heard of their taking heavy toll from some herds that
followed us, and of their killing two or three drovers who offered
objection; so we have determined to abide at home, for a time, to see
how matters go."
After taking a brief view of the town they started, in the afternoon,
to walk to Dalkeith, where they slept; and, leaving there at daybreak,
crossed a lofty range of hills, and came down into Lauderdale. They had
no fear of any interruption such as they had experienced before--as,
had Douglas news of negotiations going on between March and England, he
would not think it necessary to watch the road between Edinburgh and
the border--and late in the evening they arrived at Ancrum, on the
Teviot, having done fully fifty miles, since starting.
Ten miles in the morning took them to Roxburgh. Here they put up at a
small tavern, and Oswald donned the servitor's suit that he had brought
with him from Dunbar; while Roger, to his great disgust, resumed his
monk's gown, which he put on over the drover's suit.
Oswald then went to the governor's. His former acquaintance happened to
be at the door, and endeavoured to atone for his former rudeness, by at
once ushering him to the governor's room.
"Welcome back, Master Forster!" the latter said. "Your mission,
whatever it was, is speedily terminated. From what you said, I had not
looked for you for another fortnight."
"If I had not come when I did," Oswald said, "my absence might have
been prolonged, for months. However, all has gone well, and I purpose
starting at once for Alnwick, and would fain reach Wooler by
nightfall."
"That you can do, easily enough. I will order the horses to be saddled,
at once."
"I thank you, Sir Philip. I will mount here in the courtyard. I care
not, now, what notice may be taken of me; seeing that there is but some
ten miles to be ridden, to the frontier."
"Nor, I warrant me, will you meet with interference on the road," the
knight said. "I have not heard of anyone being stopped for toll, for
the past year, between this and the border."
A quarter of an hour later they left Roxburgh; and, travelling at an
easy pace, arrived at Wooler before sunset; and on the following
evening entered Alnwick. They could have reached it earlier, but Oswald
thought it as well not to enter the castle until after dark, as he did
not wish to be noticed in his present attire.
Fastening the horses to hooks in the courtyard, Oswald ran up to his
apartment, which was next to that of his uncle.
"Welcome back, Oswald!" the latter said, as he opened his door on
hearing his footsteps. "I had thought that you would be longer away."
"I am back sooner than I expected, Uncle. Will you order supper to be
brought up here, for Roger and myself? We are both hard set; though,
indeed, we had a meal of bread and cheese, at noon, at a wayside
tavern."
"Brother Roger has behaved well?"
"Excellently. He has cracked but two sconces since we left, and these
were on my behalf. He will sleep on some rushes in my room, tonight. He
hates the thought of returning to the monastery, and has begged me,
most earnestly, to ask Percy to continue him in his employment."
As soon as Oswald had donned his ordinary attire, he went to Lord
Percy's quarters.
"You are back sooner than I had expected, Oswald," Hotspur said, as he
entered. "Nothing has gone wrong, I hope?"
"Nothing, my lord, but I was forced to leave Dunbar, after but three
days' stay there; for the earl was so fearful that I might be detected,
on my way back, that he would have retained me with him until the time
for action came; sending down another messenger, by sea, to you. As
your orders were to return with all speed, I gave him the slip, and
made my way back as quickly as possible."
"And March?"
"I think that the earl is in earnest in his professions, my lord; and
that you can rely upon him for such aid as he can render. But, from
what I heard in Edinburgh--"
"In Edinburgh!" Hotspur said, in surprise; "what took you there?"
"I will tell you, my lord; but the point is that men said openly,
there, that there was a report that he would be attainted, and deprived
of his land, for treasonable words spoken by him to the king, the Duke
of Albany, and the Duke of Rothesay. If this is so, he will have to
fly; for assuredly he has, at present, no force gathered that could
resist those of the king and Douglas."
"Give me an account of what has happened," Hotspur said, frowning. "I
feared that March's impetuous temper would lead him into trouble,
before we were in a position to march to his assistance; and I heard
rumours of a stormy scene between him and Rothesay, when he learned
that he had been fooled; but I knew not that the king, himself, was
present."
Oswald related the story of his journey, and the interruption on the
moor; and the reports, that he had afterwards heard, of the stoppage of
all travellers coming from the south, by the same band.
"The leader was evidently above the rank of an ordinary marauder, and
his followers obeyed him as men-at-arms would obey an officer; and it
seemed to me, my lord, that Douglas must have heard a vague report that
the earl was in communication with England; and sought to intercept
some messenger, on whom he might find a letter, or from whom he could
extract proofs of the earl's treachery."
"'Tis like enough," Hotspur said. "When a man is so rash as to upbraid
the king, and still more Albany, he must needs fall under suspicion.
Now, go on with your story."
When Oswald had brought his narration to an end, Percy said:
"You have done very well, Oswald, and have deserved the confidence that
I placed in you. You have shown much circumspection, and you did well
in escaping from Dunbar, as you did. The mad monk, too, seems to have
behaved well. I doubted your wisdom in taking him, but he has certainly
proved a useful fellow."
"I would petition, my lord, that you should continue him in your
service; and that, should you employ me upon another mission, you will
again allow me to take him with me. He is a shrewd fellow, as well as a
stout one, and I could wish for no better companion; though I own that,
since he put on his gown again at Roxburgh, and rode hither, his
spirits have greatly failed him."
"I will arrange that with the abbot," Hotspur said; "but tell him that,
while he is here, he must continue to wear his robe. His face is too
well known for him to pass as a man-at-arms, without being recognized
by half the garrison. The Lord Abbot would well object to one of his
monks turning into a swaggering man-at-arms, at his very door.
"At any rate, I shall tell the abbot that, if he will consent quietly
to the monk's unfrocking himself, until he can obtain for him release
from his vows; I will scud him away to one of the other castles, whence
I can fetch him, if you need him to accompany you on any errand, and
where he can form part of the regular garrison. But the knave must be
informed that it were best that he say nought about his former
profession, and that he comport himself as quietly as is in his nature.
"I will give him a small command, as soon as may be; for although a
very bad monk, he has proved himself to be a good soldier."
"I thank you greatly, my lord," Oswald said; "and will talk seriously
to the monk, who will be delighted when he hears that the abbot will
take steps to allow him to lay aside his gown."
Roger was, indeed, delighted when he heard the news; and still more so
when, three days later, Oswald informed him that Hotspur had obtained,
from the abbot, what was practically a release from his vows. The good
abbot said that he felt that harm, rather than good, would ensue from
keeping the monk a member of the monastery.
"He infects the lay brothers, with his talk," he said. "He is a good
instructor in arms, but he teaches not as one who feels that it is a
dire necessity to carry arms, but as one who delights in it. Moreover,
he causes scandals by his drinking bouts, and does not add to the
harmony of the place. At a time like this, when the Scots may, at any
moment, fall across the border, such a fellow may do good service to
his country; and it is surely better that a man should be a good
soldier, than that he should be a bad monk. Therefore I will let him
go, my lord; but keep him away from here. It would be a grave scandal,
were he to be brawling in the town where he is known. Therefore, I pray
you, take him elsewhere. I have striven long to make him a worthy
member of his order, but I feel that it is beyond me; and it would be
best, therefore, that he should go his own way. He may come to be a
worthy soldier, and so justify me in allowing him to unfrock himself.
"As he is abiding in your castle, I pray you bid him present himself
here, tomorrow. I would fain speak to him, and give him such advice,
concerning his future conduct, as may be of benefit to him."
When Roger returned from the monastery, the next day, he wore a much
more serious face than usual.
"The abbot has done me more good, by his talk this morning," he said to
Oswald, "than by all the lectures and penances he has ever imposed on
me. In truth, he is a good man, and I had half a mind to say that I
would return to the convent, and do my best to comport myself mildly
and becomingly.
"But I felt that it would not do, Oswald. The thing is too strong for
me and, however I might strive, I know that when the temptation came I
should break out again; and so, I held my peace."
"What did he say to you, Roger?"
"He said many things, but the gist of it was that there were as good
men outside the walls of a monastery as there were within it, and that
a soldier has as many opportunities--indeed many more opportunities--of
showing himself a good man as a monk has. In battle, he said, a soldier
must act as such, and fight stoutly against the enemy, and take life as
well as risk his own; but after the fight is over he should show
himself merciful, and if he cannot follow out the precept to love his
enemies, he should at least be compassionate and kind to them. But
above all, he should never oppress the helpless, should comport himself
honourably and kindly to women and children, and, if necessary, draw
sword in their defence against those who would ill use them. And,
though the spoils of war were honourable and necessary, when captured
in fair fight, yet the oppression and robbery of the poor were deadly
crimes.
"'Comport yourself always, Roger, as if, though a soldier in arms, you
were still a monk at heart. You are brave and strong, and may rise to
some honour; but, whether or no, you may bear yourself as if you were
of gentle blood, and wore knightly spurs. Not all who are so are
honourable and merciful, as they have vowed to be. Remember, I shall
hear of you from time to time, through my Lord Percy; and that it will
gladden me to have a good account of you, and to feel that I have not
done wrong in letting you go forth, from this house of rest, to take
part in the turmoil and strife of the world.'
"He said more than this, but this is the pith of it. I knelt down, and
swore that I would strive, to the utmost in my power, to do as he bade
me; and he put his hands on my head, and bade me go in peace; and I
tell you, I mean to prove to him that his words have not been in vain."
Two days later, Oswald started with Roger, and rode to Warkworth
Castle, some ten miles away; bearing an order to the governor to add
Roger to the strength of the garrison, telling him that he had shown
himself to be a brave soldier, and a skilful one, and that he could
place confidence in him, and appoint him to any sub-command that might
become vacant.
On the way, they entered a wood. Here Roger took off his monastic garb,
and clad himself in armour such as was worn by the garrison of Alnwick.
The monk's clothes were made up into a bundle, and left in the wood,
Oswald saying:
"I will carry them back with me, on my return, Roger. It may be that
they may come in useful, yet, if you and I travel together again in the
Percys' service."
A month passed, and then the Earl of March came, by sea, to Alnwick.
Douglas and the regent had marched against him with an overwhelming
force; and, as they were both personal enemies, he knew that his fate
would be sealed if he fell into their hands, and he had therefore been
driven to declare himself, openly, as a vassal of the English king.
On the day after his arrival he happened to be in Hotspur's room, when
Oswald entered.
"Ah! ah!" he said, "This is your messenger, Percy.
"You left me with scant notice, sir."
And he smiled.
"I was forced to do so, my lord earl; for, in truth, I was not sure
that you would not prevent me from following my lord's orders, to
return after seeing you."
"You were right. In the first place, I was not sure that you were a
true messenger; and in the second place, I feared that you might, on
return, fall into the hands of the Douglases; who would speedily find
means to wring from you an account of your mission. Therefore, I
thought that it were best that you should tarry a while with me, at
Dunbar.
"The young fellow has a good head, Lord Percy, and is as hard to hold
as a wildcat. I put the matter of watching him into the hands of two or
three of my men, whose wits I have tried more than once, and know them
to be among the most trustworthy of my followers. This lad, however,
outwitted them. How, they have never been able to explain; but my
fellows were found, trussed up like fowls for roasting, in an alley
into which they had been thrown; having, as they declared, been knocked
down by a giant fellow, who sprung from they knew not where, just as
they were about to lay hands upon your messenger. After they had
vanished, none had seen him pass the walls, and we judged that he must
have started in a craft that sailed up the Forth. Fearing that, if they
landed, he might speedily fall into the hands of Douglas, I sent a
vessel in chase; but they missed him, and indeed, from that time to
this I knew not, save by your letter to me, whether he had reached here
safely."
After a short stay, the Earl of March was about to return to Dunbar;
when he heard that the king, himself, was coming north with an army for
the invasion of Scotland, and would then confer with him, and consider
the terms on which he proposed to transfer his allegiance to him. A
month later the king arrived at Alnwick, and there George Dunbar, Earl
of March, entered into an agreement with him; in which he renounced all
fealty to the King of Scotland, in consideration for which he was
granted an estate in Lincolnshire, and other revenues. It was also
agreed that the subjects of the King of England should support the
earl, in time of necessity; and should be supported by him, and
received into his fortresses.
He was not, now, in a position to render any very efficient aid to the
king; for Robert Maitland, his nephew, to whom he had committed the
castle of Dunbar, had been summoned by Douglas, who had marched there
with a strong force, by order of the king, and had surrendered the
stronghold to him. However, he brought Dunbar's wife and family, and a
considerable force of his retainers, safely across the border.
He and Percy, together, then made a raid into the Douglas territory;
and penetrated as far as Haddington, and collected much spoil from the
country round. Douglas, however, came suddenly upon them in great
force, and they were obliged to retreat hastily across the frontier
again, abandoning their baggage and booty.
The king's invasion was no more satisfactory. The Earl of March was
unable to place Dunbar in his hands; and, as the Scots declined battle
in the open, he laid siege to Edinburgh, but without success. Dunbar
being closed to him, he was unable to obtain provisions, and was forced
to fall back to England, having accomplished nothing.
During his invasion, he had shown much more leniency than had been the
custom with his predecessors. He had taken what was necessary to
support the army, but had abstained from wasting the country,
destroying villages and towns, and slaughtering the country people;
and, so far from embittering the animosity between the two nations, he
had produced a better state of feeling; and a truce was, in
consequence, concluded for a year, at Kelso, by special commissioners
from both kings, on the 21st of December, 1400.