THE FOUR HORSEMEN.
"Look ye, sirs!
The breath of murder loads the air to-night--
Be watchful and be wary."
_Old Play._
Under the Duke of Montrose, Lindesay his son, the Earls of Mar,
Athole, and others, the main body of James's forces retired slowly
through the Torwood, by the old Roman Way, still fighting with
obstinate valour, and protracting the struggle until the long and
lingering eve of June had faded into night, and darkness spread a
veil over the horrors of the battle, when the royalists, as usual
with all hastily collected levies, retired into the mountains, and
disbanded.
The victorious lords, with the young prince still in their
possession, passed that night near the field, and next day marched to
the town and palace of Linlithgow.
The moon was shining in the summer sky, when Sir David Falconer freed
himself from the bodies of three slain men, who lay heavily and
coldly above him; rising from the field, he was able to look after
his own safety--for many of the border prickers were hovering abroad
in search of rings and jewels, or gold-handled daggers and
embroidered belts. A body lay near him sheathed in bright armour;
its gauntletted hands clutched the earth, the vizor of the casque was
up, and the dead man's eyes glared horribly in the pale moonlight.
Between his teeth were some blades of grass, which, when dying, he
had bitten in his agony. On his breast sparkled the diamond jewel of
the Thistle--for this was the corpse of Alexander Cunningham, the
noble Earl of Glencairn. This brave warrior lay above the blue silk
banner of his house, charged with its shakefork _sable_--the same
pennon which his bride, fair Margaret of Hailes, had woven for his
lance in their Castle of Kilmaurs.
Most of the wounded had been removed by their friends or by the
merciful; others had been speared by the mosstroopers of Hailes,
Home, and Buccleugh; thus, thick as grain on a harvest field, the
bodies of the dead--white-visaged, and gleaming blue in their coats
of mail--strewed all the plain; but they were quiet and still as the
leafy woods or the azure sky of that sweet summer night.
Ignorant of where the royal forces had retreated, and anxious only to
ascertain the fact of the King's safety--of which he had great doubts
on beholding the number of the guard who were lying dead three and
four deep, and whom he knew easily by their scarlet surcoats trimmed
with yellow,--and being anxious to rejoin the frigate, Falconer arose
with difficulty, and after refreshing himself by a draught of pure
water from the Sauchieburn, at a place above where the dead lay in
it, he took his way towards the north, and fortunately found a stray
horse saddled and bridled grazing in a field, near the gate of which
its rider, a trooper, with the laurel of the Grahams in his morion,
lay dead. This animal with great docility permitted Falconer to
seize the reins and leap on his back; thus mounted, he soon left the
fatal field behind, and rode through the scattered oaks of the
Torwood towards the ferry by which the Forth was crossed opposite
Alloa.
The whole country appeared deserted; he saw no one, and heard not
even a dog bark; thus the stillness became oppressive after the storm
of war, the strife of wounds and agony, the carnage and horrors of
the day that was past. He soon reached the boor-tree thickets at the
Craig ward, and saw the beautiful river with the Clackmannan hills
and old Alloa rise before him in the moonlight, with the King's ships
at anchor in the stream, with courses loose and a spring upon their
cables. Half a bow-shot from the beach were several well-oared
boats, full of armed men, and by their garb Falconer recognised his
own arquebussiera and the King's seamen, while the royal standard
drooped from the boats' sterns, and swept the water.
"Ho--boat yoho!" cried he, leaping from his horse.
"David Falconer, at last!" cried a number of distant voices, as the
oars dipped, and the boat shot in.
"Welcome in safety, messmate o' mine," said the bluff admiral, who
was clad in his helmet and suit of steel; "we heard you had parted
your cable in yonder devilish field."
"Only unhorsed, Sir Andrew."
"Any planks stove in, or timbers started?"
"None, thank Heaven! though I received a blow that must have killed
me, had I not----"
"Like most Scotsmen in these troublous times, been well used to cuts
and blows," interrupted Barton. "So the battle was fairly fought?"
"Yea, fairly as the Ball of Scone, as the saw hath it--fairly fought
and most unhappily lost. Alas! yonder field of battle is the very
garden of Death!"
"And what of the king?" asked several voices.
"The king--is he not on board the _Yellow Frigate_?"
"No," said the admiral; "I would to God he were, for then he would be
in safe anchoring ground. Which way did he ride?"
"I know not, for I fell by his side in the middle of the battle----"
"Happy thou, my good Falconer, to share that day's vengeance with the
king," said the admiral; "but that I had other ropes to splice, I had
assuredly been with thee. Well?"
"The lord Lindesay gave him a horse of matchless blood and speed,
whereon, if evil happened or the day were lost, he might reach you
here at the Craigward----"
"We have never sighted him once, though many a fugitive hath crossed,
for we have been little better than ferrymen since the gloaming fell.
The auld Earl of Menteith, in his battered harness; the Preceptor of
Torphichen, with three other knights of Rhodez; and many of the
Ogilvies, as we knew by their tartan plaids and the hawthorn in their
helmets; and Murrays, with the juniper twig;--most of them pricked
with spears or slashed by sword cuts, have we taken across the river;
but nought have we seen of the king, though the Preceptor averred
that he saw him ride towards the north."
"What if he should have fallen from the Lindesay's fiery steed, and
now be lying in the Torwood?"
"St. Mary avert it!" said Falconer. "Yet, when I bethink me now, I
saw more than one dead man lying in his armour on the sward, between
this and the field."
"Sayest thou so?" exclaimed the admiral, leaping lightly ashore,
despite his years and rotundity, "and we are loitering here like so
many hag-ridden lubbers! Barton, do thou keep the boats here for us;
and, Falconer, take twenty of thine arquebusses and come with me;
we'll bear up towards the battlefield a little way, and see if aught
may be descried of the king; come on shore with your flasks, forks,
and arquebusses, heave a-head my men, and quickly."
The soldiers hastened up the bank, and Falconer would have resigned
his horse to the admiral, but the latter declined, saying "that he
always lost some of his outer-sheathing when perched on horseback."
So Sir David drew his sword, and led the way back to the field of
battle.
They marched three or four miles without finding any trace of him
they sought. At last the sound of hoofs was heard near the milltown
of Bannock.
"Hist--tarry a bit," said the admiral. "Lie to, sirs."
"Halt!" cried Falconer, in a soldierly tone; "plant your forks and
wind up your spanners! Be ready to fire at a moment's notice!"
Four heavily-armed horsemen, all riding furiously, the last however,
a long way behind his companions, dashed along the road, and though
repeatedly required to stop, they rode recklessly on, with their
armour flashing, the horsehoofs striking fire, and disappeared among
the Torwood oaks.
"Fire on the sternmost, and make him bring to," cried the admiral,
angrily; "throw a shot across his forefoot."
An arquebussier fired: the bullet whistled close to the horseman's
casque, and panting and breathless he reined up, while his horse
plunged and reared fearfully.
"Hallo! haul taut your reins or braces! don't miss stays," said the
admiral.
"From whence come you, sir?" asked Falconer, confronting him.
"From the field, as you may see," he replied, showing a drawn dagger
in his right hand.
"Know you aught of the king?"
The other gave a diabolical laugh.
"Elsewhere I have heard that laugh!" said the admiral, advancing a
step with his Jedwood axe in his hand.
"Are you not the Admiral Wood?"
"Yes; and thou----"
"Sir Hew Borthwick, at your service."
"Villain!" began Falconer; but the admiral stayed him.
"Saw ye the king to-day?"
"Yes--and moreover I saw him not a minute since."
"Where--where?"
"In yonder mill."
"And is he there now?"
"No," replied the subtle assassin; "he is one of yonder horsemen
before me, and now rides hard to reach the _Yellow Frigate_."
"Say ye so;--about ship, my lads, and after him," said the admiral,
as they hastily began to retrace their steps; while Borthwick,
driving spurs into his horse, with a shout--but whether of fear or
triumph it is impossible to say--dashed along the road after his
three comrades.
_The dagger in his hand was wet with James's blood!_
On regaining the Craigward, the admiral and his companions found that
they had been deceived, for neither the king nor any one else had
approached the ferry since they had left it.
Many days passed away, yet no tidings were heard of the unfortunate
king.