THE MARCH TO STIRLING.
On a glorious morning of the first days of June, James III. began his
march for Stirling, once the El Dorado of the Scottish nobles during
his reign, as Linlithgow was in the time of James IV., and Falkland
in the time of James V.
The gentle breath of the morning stole along the heather braes, and
the sound of the river was heard as it murmured on its yellow shores.
Above the hills the sun was rising in his summer splendour, and the
winding Forth blushed red as the shades of night retired. The peaks
of the Ochil mountains glittered as the mist rolled away from their
summits; the mavis and merle sang among the woods of Alloa; but the
dew lay long in the grassy haughs and hollows, where the peaceful
shepherds, who heeded little the godless strife of lords and earls,
were winding their horns, while the colley dogs barked and yelled
when herd and hirsel came forth from bught and penn.
Though less accustomed to armour than most of his turbulent subjects,
James was attired in a heavy suit, which he valued highly for having
been worn by his father at the sieges of Thrave and Roxburgh. It was
gorgeously inlaid with ornamental and religious devices; the back and
breastplates were composed of several pieces, to render them
flexible, and the thighs wera defended by an apron of chain mail.
Above his salade (a peculiar headpiece, first introduced from Germany
during the reign of James II.) he wore a cap of maintenance,
surmounted by the imperial crest, the lion _in defence_; while the
royal arms, the lion rampant, within the double tressure, were
everywhere emblazoned on the caparisons of his horse, the head of
which was encased in a chanfron of tempered steel.
Another helmet for battle was borne behind the king by the Laird of
Touch, who was hereditary armour-bearer and esquire of the royal
body; his standard was borne by Scrimgeour, the Constable of Dundee,
also its hereditary bearer. The lances of the Royal Guard, under
Ramsay, Lord Bothwell, wearing over their armour scarlet jupons,
trimmed with yellow (the royal livery), rode close around, in front
and in rear of the king, near whom were Sir William Knollis,
preceptor of Torphichen, wearing the black côte d'armes of his order,
with its white cross of eight points; the old Sieur de Concressault,
clad in a gorgeous suit of Milan plate, with his orders of knighthood
sparkling on his breast, his swallow-tailed pennon borne before him
by one esquire, and his helmet behind him by another. With this
group rode the venerable Montrose, the king's first counsellor,
attended by many gentlemen, among whom were Sir David Falconer, who,
as a soldier, had resolved to share the dangers of the campaign;
while the admiral, Barton, and Mathieson had returned to their ships
to guard the passage of the river below Alloa.
The royal army was nearly thirty thousand strong, and gathered
strength at every tower and hamlet as it marched westward, by the
margin of the Forth, towards Stirling. There were the well-accoutred
horsemen and spearmen of the North Lowlands, in their steel caps and
buff coats, with iron gloves and gorgets; Highland archers in their
long lurichs of chain and conical helmets of steel, with short bows
and ponderous swords--all brave and determined, but unruly and,
unfortunately, inferior in equipment to the fine troops of the
revolted nobles. The cannon were few and small, their principal one
being the _Lion_, a brass gun, cast in Flanders for James I., in
1438; it weighed 3000 lbs., and was inscribed with a long Latin
legend.
Save the hum of the marching squadrons as it rose on the morning air,
the tramp of horses, and the tread of feet, the rustle of the
many-coloured banners and pennons of baronial families, clans and
burghtowns, or an occasional word of command, there were no sounds of
military triumph accompanied this march to Stilling. In respect for
the king's sorrow and recent bereavement, no Lowland drum was beaten,
no trumpet blown, or bagpipe gave a note to the breeze; and most of
the peers and gentlemen were thoughtful and downcast, or conversed
only in low and subdued tones; for it was an age of omens, and many
portending evils had been seen; and thus, their minds, being as it
were forewarned of unhappy results, attended to the most trivial
things, and drew from them dark and mighty conclusions.
Passing through the woods of Tullibody, the forces crossed the
beautiful Devon, which is fed by a hundred streams that pour down
from the Ochils, and rush united through a channel of rock, among
wild, romantic, and richly-wooded glens, towards the Forth. The
royal troops passed through the little village of thatched cottages,
from the low chimneys of which the smoke of fires, that were fed with
fir and oak from the neighbouring bog, was curling high above the
rich green foliage. The cottars stood at their doors, and held up at
arm's-length their little ones, to see the passing king, and in the
hope, perhaps, that they might catch a glance of the royal eye; men,
old and bent with age, stretched their thin hands towards him in
blessing, and the tears came into the eyes of James when, after a
long silence, he turned to those about him, and said--
"It is these poor people, and such as these, I love: and it it at
such a time as this I feel myself a king. Believe me, my good
Montrose, the prayers and wishes of the lowly reach Heaven more
readily through these roofs of thatch, than those that rise from
baron's halls and great cathedral aisles; for, as Saint Mungo said of
old, the poor are the children of God. I would that all Scotland
were as single in purpose and as true in heart as these poor cottars
now."
To this no one replied, and after another silent pause, James
continued, in the same bitter strain:
"How many of my forefathers have shed their blood for this ungrateful
people, who will slay me, even as they slew James I. at Perth?
Fighting for Scotland, my father fell at Roxburgh, by a cannon, in
the very armour I now wear; yet how few of her nobles have one drop
of blood for me? Like the very demons of violence, crime, and
ambition, they will traverse all the land in arms; burghs will be
sacked, and homesteads laid in ashes; towers stormed and battles
fought, for there is no hand can restrain them but _One_, and even
that seems armed against me now!"
"Alas!" said the Treasurer Knollis, in a low voice, as he laid a hand
on the cross of his order; "alas! that your majesty should speak
thus; doth not the Holy Writ tell us, that 'man is born to trouble,
even as the sparks fly upward?'"
"Where, beyond the little band here, have I a friend?"
The Lord of St. John of Jerusalem pointed upwards, saying,
"The wisdom and the repining of man are alike folly in the sight of
Heaven."
"I beseech your majesty to be of good cheer," said Montrose; "thirty
thousand loyal hearts are under your royal banner; and another day
may see your enemies routed, baffled, and destroyed."
"Duke, I have ever heard it said that the most noble way of
destroying one's enemies was to make them friends; but in every
attempt to gain these hostile peers, I have signally failed. Our
long projected banquet, which was to cement the bonds of
friendship----"
"For God's love, speak not of that," said Montrose, betraying a storm
of anger in his eye and manner; "for never shall I know one hour of
peace until I have discovered and nailed on Stirling cross the hand
which forged the letter proud Angus so exults in!"
And now old Stirling's "towers and town" arose before the marching
troops, all steeped in summer haze and brilliant sunlight--that
gorgeous palatial fortress, so rich in statues, ornament, and
carving--so lofty and so strong, rising tower above tower, and
rampart over rampart, on that stupendous rock that terminates the
steep on which the quaint old burgh clusters, with all its
gable-ended houses, its grey turrets, and antique courts, its shady
wynds and masses of fantastic masonry, with gardens all around, and
orchards in full bloom; while, seen at intervals, the winding Forth
swept through the fertile vale below, so rich in dark green coppice
and golden fields of corn, and teeming all with natural
loveliness--bounded by the dark and purple peaks of the mighty Ochils
and the mightier Grampians--by a thousand hills and more, that look
down on plains where Scotland fought three of her most glorious
battles.
By old Stirling bridge, so famed in the annals of the past for
pageantry and strife--so narrow and so steep, with its deep-ribbed
arches that span the river Forth, the king crossed at the head of his
troops, and for three hours they continued to defile along that lofty
gangway of stone, with banners waving, and spears and helmets shining
in the sun. Strong walls and fortified portes then enclosed the
town. Its eastern barrier, "a formidable arch of ponderous masonry,
sprung from columns of basaltic rock, twenty feet in diameter. A
jagged portcullis and solid gates closed the path by night, and their
state keys of solid silver are yet preserved in the town-house."
No provost, bailies, or dean of guild, in furred gowns, appeared on
bended knee to present these keys to James as he passed through the
arched portal which then secured the centre of the bridge; and the
streets beyond it were silent and deserted, for the people were
stricken with fear and awe, as his forces marched through towards the
Torwood; for he had resolved to encamp beyond the walls, and thus
relieve the burgesses of his favourite town from the presence of the
wild and unruly northern clans who adhered to his cause and crown.
Intending to remain in Stirling until more of the Highland chiefs
could join him, and being anxious to meet the prince his son, whom he
believed to be in the castle with Shaw the governor, of whose
defection he was still ignorant, James rode up the Broad Wynd,
attended by a few of his guard, by Bothwell, its captain, Montrose,
the Sieur de Monipennie, Sir David Falconer, and others who were his
best friends, and who formed a glittering troop as they approached
the castle, which was James's favourite residence, and which he had
greatly embellished, having built therein a parliament-house, the
magnificent oak roof of which was but recently and recklessly torn
down by the British government, and sold for firewood!
As the cavalcade advanced up the hill, they were surprised to find a
strange banner--the red heart of Douglas--flying upon the castle in
place of the blue national ensign, while the gates were closed, the
drawbridge up, the walls lined by the garrison, and the cannon
pointed against them.
Glances of inquiry and suspicion were exchanged by the attendants of
the king, whose pale face was turned with stern scrutiny upon the
armed ramparts, so he ordered a trumpet to be sounded, and with the
umbriere of his salade up rode forward boldly to the edge of the
ditch.
"Is the Laird of Sauchie, my captain of Stirling, within your gates?"
he asked, in a firm and haughty manner.
"I am here, at the service of your grace," replied that
arch-conspirator, as he appeared all armed, save the head, at the
wall above the portcullis.
"Thou false traitor and mansworn subject," said James, "why am I
received in this fashion at my own castle-gate? Do ye not see the
royal banner and the guard in our livery?"
"As plainly as may be," replied Sauchie, with the coolest assurance;
"and what of it?"
James thought of his dead queen, and controlled the gust of proper
indignation that swelled within him at the insolent bearing of his
subject.
"Am I to understand that you decline us entrance here?"
"I regret to say that your majesty surmises justly."
"Soldiers!" he exclaimed, "I am James, your king!
Lieutenant-governor, Allan Cochrane of Dundonald, arrest the traitor
Sauchie, and lower the bridge; arrest him, I command you all on your
allegiance."
The Laird of Dundonald curled up his mustachios in silence, while
Sauchie laughed aloud; but no man stirred upon the walls, though all
gazed upon each other in evident doubt and trepidation.
"Will no man there desire the prince, my son, to appear before me,"
said the poor king.
Then Sauchie answered:
"The prince, your son, is with the lords, in arms, beyond the
Torwood, and is birling his bicker in Callendar Hall."
This intelligence cut James to the soul, and he turned to
Concressault, with a glance full of reproach and inquiry.
"I could not tell your majesty such evil tidings," replied the old
soldier; "though I saw the prince, pale, sad, and I am glad to say
it, looking miserable enough, among those evil-minded lords."
"And thou, David Falconer?" said the king.
"I was silent for the same reason."
"It was kindly meant, sirs--kindly meant; but it makes the blow more
heavy to-day. Wifeless and sonless, in one week--I may well be
crownless and lifeless the next. Oh, who that could have a crust and
cup of water in peaceful obscurity would be king of Scotland? One
word ere we go, Sir James of Sauchie, and answer me truly on your
soul as a Christian man, is my son in arms against me of his own free
will?"
"I know not; but the nobles, now in arms to demand justice, took him
away with them."
"Justice is in the hand of Heaven; and yet these rebel lords would
seek it at the head of forty-thousand spears."
"I know not in whose hand it may be, and care not," replied the
insolent Shaw; "but time will prove all."
"Time will also avenge thy perfidy!" said James, with bitterness;
"fie on thee, traitor; fie! But I shall neither curse nor ban thee,
for thy father was a good knight and loyal man; and this conduct in
thee is enough to make his bones shake in their coffin in
Cambuskenneth aisle. Foully and basely hast thou deceived me, for to
thee were entrusted alike the custody of this my royal castle and of
my eldest son; but I shall yet be avenged, and have thee rewarded as
thou deservest."
It is related that James then shook his clenched hand at the subtle
traitor on the battlement above him; and all his train made the same
menacing gesture, as they wheeled their horses round and descended
into the town.