THE GREY HORSE.
"I would the wind that is sweeping now
O'er the restless and weary wave;
Were swaying the leaves of the cypress bough
O'er the calm of my early grave."
_Scottish Song._
The morning of the 11th June, 1488, rose brightly over Stirling and
its magnificent scenery.
Almost with dawn, tidings reached King James that the insurgent
nobles, at the head of a vast force, had left Falkirk some hours
before daybreak, and were on their march through the Torwood to
attack him. The unfortunate monarch now found himself peculiarly
situated.
His Castle of Stirling, the only adjacent place of security in case
of reverse, was closed against him; while the nobles as they marched
by the old Roman road which ran through the recesses of the Torwood,
barred the only route to the capital. Thus, in the event of defeat,
James could turn nowhere for succour but to the admiral's boats at
the Craigward, as arranged by the faithful Falconer.
He summoned a council of his chiefs--Montrose, Glencairn, Menteith,
Ruthven, Semple, the Preceptor of Torphichen, and others; and they
were unanimously of opinion that he should commit their cause and
fortunes to the hazard of a battle. Immediately on this decision
being come to, the steep streets and old fantastic alleys and wynds
of Stirling echoed to the brattle of drums, the clang of trumpets,
the twang of Border horns, and the yelling of the mountain pipe, as
the royal troops, horse and foot, spearmen, archers, and knights--all
sheathed in mail, with horses richly trapped; burgesses and yeomen in
splinted jacks, steel gloves, and morions; and clansmen with their
long linked lurichs, tuaghs, and two-handed swords, marched past its
walls and barrier-ports, by the ancient road, which then, as now, led
towards the rampart that extended from the Forth to the Clyde, and
advanced eastward in three heavy columns, all animated by enthusiasm,
for the royal cause, and by the highest spirit and determination.
At that time the insurgents were passing the Carron, so famed of old
in our Highland songs and Lowland history as the scene of many a
bloody contest with "the kings of the world;" for there the wings of
their pride were shorn, and the line of their conquests marked for
ever by the swords of the Scottish Gaël.
The vast extent of the Torwood--the Sylvæ Caledonia of antiquity--and
all the foliaged hills that rise around the "Bulwark of the North,"
were clad in the richness of their summer beauty. The air was laden
with perfume exhaled from the waving woods and teeming earth; the sky
was without a cloud, save where a few specks of gold or fleecy white
floated in the distant east. The dew was glittering on everything,
from the topmost leaves of the Torwood's giant oaks to the little
mary-flower and red-eyed daisy that grew below them. All nature
seemed fresh and bright and beautiful. The wild violet and the
mountain roses that grew thickly by the wayside scented the air, and
its purity was enchanting. It seemed rather a morning for a merry
hunting or hawking party, than the stern debate of Scottish civil
war; and as pipe and trumpet, with the tramp of barbed horses and the
tread of heavily-armed men, rang on the pavement of the Roman Via,
and awoke the leafy echoes of the forest, the wild erne screamed in
the oaken glade, and the cushat dove fled from the hateful sound.
After hearing mass in the Dominican church, and confessing himself to
Henry, Abbot of Cambuskenneth, the king mounted his horse amid a
flourish of trumpets. He was a peaceful and amiable prince--one more
suited to our own civilized time than that age of blood and cold
iron; and thus he felt somewhat unused to the ponderous but gorgeous
suit of armour in which he was cased and riveted; and all uncheered
by the enthusiasm wound him, the flashing of arms, and the braying of
martial music, as the drums and fifes, horns and trumpets, of Lord
Bothwell's guard (first embodied by James II.), played merrily,
"Cou thou the rashes greene O,"
or by the historical memories of the ground over which he marched,
for the Scottish Marathon lay close at hand; he rode silently and
moodily on, with his helmet closed, to conceal the tears that came
unbidden to his eyes, as he thought of his dead wife, his son's
desertion, the unjust accusations against him, and the coming
slaughter which nothing but his own death could perhaps avert.
"Another hour will bring us in sight of the foe," said the old Duke
of Montrose, whose armour was richly ornamented, though somewhat
old-fashioned; for his head-piece had the oreillets and long spike
worn in the days of Murdoch, the Regent Duke of Albany, and his horse
was gaily housed in his colours; _gules_, a fess checque _argent_ and
_azure_, the bearings of the Lindesays of Crawford; "and in one hour
after that, your majesty will find yourself enabled to punish and
repay the treason of Sauchie. I would give my best barony to see his
head rolling on the Gowling Hill of Stirling!"
"Time will show, duke," said James, with a sigh. "God wot, I have no
wish to shed the blood of my people; but I never liked this Laird of
Sauchie; his soul was an abyss, and I never could fathom his
thoughts."
"His chief friend and follower--a man named Hew Borthwick--was in
Stirling last night, disguised in a friar's frock. This man is a spy
and traitor; yet he escaped us, and took the eastern road, doubtless
to tell what he has seen; and for all the Howe of Angus, I would not
have lost that fellow's head."
"Borthwick! have I not heard that name before?"
"Doubtless; he is a well-known bully, pimp, and brawler, who hovers
about the discontented lords."
"Is he well-born?"
"Hell-born would be nearer truth, if rumour pedigrees him right,"
replied Montrose; "but what aileth your majesty?" he asked,
perceiving the king to shudder so much that the joints of his armour
rattled.
"A _grue_ came over me," said the poor king, and Montrose was silent,
for neither were above the superstitions of the time; and in Scotland
people still believe that an involuntary shudder is caused either by
a spirit passing near or when we tread upon the ground which is to be
our grave.
A shout, a clamorous hurrah from the vanguard, announced that the foe
was in sight; and as the king, with his forces, debouched from the
Torwood, he came in view of the long array of his insurgent lords;
and Falconer, who rode with the royal guard, shook his lance aloft in
fierce ecstasy, as he thought the moment was now approaching when he
might meet Hailes and Home, singly or together, in close and mortal
combat.
The insurgents were posted at the bridge over the Carron, and were
formed in three strong columns, the whole strength of which has been
variously stated, for their exact number has never been ascertained.
Some historians have estimated them at one hundred and eighty
thousand, which is doubtless a great exaggeration. Their force,
however, was sufficiently formidable to appal the mind of the
heart-broken king.
The Lords Hailes and Home commanded the first column, which was
composed of the men of Berwickshire and East Lothian; and Falconer's
quick eye soon distinguished the chevron of the first, and the green
banner of the second, with its yellow lion waving above the flower of
the Scottish spearmen.
With this body rode the traitor Borthwick, armed like a simple
knight, and wearing a close helmet.
The second column was composed of the fierce clans of Galloway and
the hardy Bordermen from the Liddel, the Annan, the Tweed, and the
Teviot, all clad in jacks of splinted steel, with long lances and
two-handed swords, well mounted, and ranged under the terrible Red
Heart of Angus--the banner of a thousand battles, a thousand crimes
and glories!
In the third column, led by the Lord High Constable, were the men of
the central Lowlands (under the nominal command of the Duke of
Rothesay), and in this column the insurgents had the hardihood to
display the royal standard of the kingdom. Lord Drummond, the
Steward of Menteith, Sir Patrick Gray, the Forester of Drum, Sir
William Stirling of Keir, Sir James Shaw, who had come from Stirling
Castle, with many more malcontent noblesse, were around the prince,
as guards and spies upon his conduct.
The aspect of these long triple lines as they stood in order of
battle by the banks of the Carron, with their deep masses of long
spears that vibrated like the stalks of a ripe cornfield, their many
silken standards waving in the wind, and all their bright harness
shining in the meridian sun, as knight and noble galloped from troop
to troop and band to band, was too formidable to leave the unhappy
king the shadow of a hope that he could ever come to an amicable
arrangement with them, which he would gladly have done had his forces
been the most numerous.
He formed his little army of thirty thousand men into four columns.
The first was commanded by the aged Earl of Menteith, under whom were
the banners and vassals of the Lords Erskine, Gray, Ruthven, Graham,
and Maxwell; the second was led by the Earl of Glencairn, and
consisted chiefly of the western clans; the third was led by the Lord
Boyd and the young Lord Lindesay, who carried the gauntlet of Angus
on his spear.
The main body, in which was the royal guard under Lord Bothwell, was
led by the king and Montrose. It consisted principally of men from
Fife, Angus, and Stormont. In front were the Great Lion and a few
other pieces of cannon. James III. rode at the head, distinguished
above all around him by the loftiness of his stature, the brilliancy
of his armour, the collar of the Thistle, and his towering _yellow
plume_.
On both sides all were well armed according to the fashion of the
time and country, for the Scots excelled in the manufacture of
weapons; and at that time every gentleman possessing ten pounds'
worth of land was compelled to have a complete suit of harness, with
sword, spear, and dagger; every yeoman, a basinet, steel gloves, bow,
shafts and buckler, sword and dirk. From an early period the nation
were good gunners; they first used cannon in the war against the
English in the year 1340; and in after years the Parliament ordered
that every proprietor whose lands were a hundred pounds of new
extent, should provide a hackbut, while every hundred-merk-land
should equip two field-pieces; consequently, the nobles had plenty of
cannon in this fatal field of Sauchieburn.
As the lines were approaching each other, the faithful Lord Lindesay
of the Byres rode up to the king, attended by an esquire who led a
grey horse of beautiful proportions--one which was deemed unrivalled
in Scotland for beauty, strength, and fleetness. "I beg," said he,
"that your majesty will accept of this steed from me; should we lose
this eventful field--which God and St. Andrew avert--your majesty may
fully trust your sacred life to this animal's agility and sureness of
foot; for if you can but keep your saddle, my favourite grey will
never fail you."
"He has been carefully bred," said the Duke of Montrose, "and
possesses the fifty-four gifts of a good horse."
"Fifty-four, duke?" reiterated the king, stroking the fiery animal as
it pressed on the powerful curb, and caracoled from side to side; "on
my faith, a goodly number!"
"Examine him, please your majesty," continued the handsome young
donor, throwing up his umbriere; "he hath a woman's breast, with a
lion's courage; the eye of a bull, with the patience of a sheep; the
strength of a Spanish mule, with the fleetness of a Scottish deer;
and the ears of a wolf! You will find him no cutter of gowans. Keep
his head well up, and, by the faith of Lindesay, he will never fail
under you!"
How fatal a gift this fiery horse proved will be shown in the sequel!