Had the gallant defenders of Kildrummie Castle been conscious that the
at first dilatory and then uncertain measures of their foes originated
in the fact that the Earls of Hereford and Lancaster were not themselves
yet on the field, and that they had with them a vast addition to their
forces, they would not perhaps have rested so securely on the hopes
which their unexpected success very naturally engendered. Attack on one
side they knew they could resist; their only dread had been that, from
the numbers of the English, the angle towers, each of which covered a
postern, might be attacked at once, and thus discover the real weakness
of their forces. The obstinate struggle for the barbacan, the strongest
point of the castle, had been welcomed with joy by the Scotch, for there
they could overlook every movement of the besiegers. Some wonder it did
cause that such renowned knights as the earls were known to be, should
not endeavor to throw them off their guard by a division of attack; but
this wonder could not take from the triumph of success.
It was from no want of observation the absence of the two earls remained
undiscovered by the besieged. Engaged on a secret expedition, whose
object will be seen in the sequel, they had commanded the message
demanding surrender to be given in their names, their pavilions to be
pitched in sight of the castle as if they were already there, their
banners to wave above them, esquires and pages to be in attendance, and
their war-cries to be shouted, as was the custom when they led on in
person. The numerous knights, clothed in bright armor from head to heel
ever traversing the field, assisted the illusion, and the Scotch never
once suspected the truth.
Imagining a very brief struggle would deliver the castle into their
hands, even if its garrison were mad enough to refuse compliance with
King Edward's terms, the earls had not hurried themselves on their
expedition, and a fortnight after the siege had begun, were reposing
themselves very cavalierly in the stronghold of an Anglo-Scottish baron,
some thirty miles southward of the scene of action.
It was the hour of supper, a rude repast of venison, interspersed with
horn and silver flagons filled with the strong liquors of the day, and
served up in a rude hall, of which the low round arches in the roof, the
massive walls without buttresses, and windows running small outside, but
spreading as to become much larger within, all denoted the Saxon
architecture unsoftened by any of the Norman improvements.
The earls and their host, with some attendant knights, sat as usual
round the dais or raised part of the hall, their table distinguished it
may be by some gold as well as silver vessels, and a greater variety of
liquor, particularly hypocras and claret of the day, the one formed of
wine and honey, the other of wine and spices; by the sinnel and wastel
cakes, but certainly not by the superior refinement of the more solid
food. The huge silver saltcellar alone divided the table of the baron
from that of his dependants, yet the distinction of sitting above and
below the salt was as great as the division between the master and
servant of the present day; the jest, the loud laugh seasoned the
viands placed before them, and the hearty draught from the welcome
flagon. Nor was the baron's own table much quieter; remarks on the state
of the country, speculations as to the hiding-place of King Robert, and
when they should receive tidings of the surrender of Kildrummie, formed
topics of conversation alternately with discussions on the excellence of
the wines, the flavor of the venison, the difference between English and
Scottish cookery, and such like matters, important in the days of our
ancestors as in our own.
"You have ridden long enough to-day, good my lords, to make a hearty
charge on your suppers; a long journey and a tough battle, commend me to
them for helps to the appetite," said the Scottish baron, joyously
inviting them by his own example to eat on and spare not.
"Commend me to the latter, an ye will," answered Hereford, on whose brow
a cloud of something like distaste had spread; "but by mine honor, I
love not the business of the last week. I have brought it to a close,
however, and praise the saints for it."
"Bah! thou art over-squeamish, Hereford. Edward would give us the second
best jewel in his chaplet for the rich prize we have sent him," resumed
Lancaster.
"Reserving the first, of course, for the traitor Bruce himself,"
interposed their host. "Ah! such a captive were in truth worth an
earldom."
"Then, by my troth, the traitor's wife is worth a barony," returned
Lancaster, laughing; "and her fair bevy of attendants, amongst whom are
the wives, daughters, and sisters of many a rebel, thinkest thou not we
shall be high in Edward's favor for them, too? I tell thee we might have
fought many a good fight, and not have done him such good service."
"It may be, it may be," answered Hereford, impatiently, "had it been at
the sword's point, had they been prisoners by force of arms, I would
have joyed too, and felt it was good service; but such rank treachery,
decoyed, entrapped by that foul prince of lies, the Lord of Ross--faugh!
I could have rammed his treachery back into his throat."
"And done the king, perchance, good service too," rejoined Lancaster,
still excessively amused, "for I have no faith in a traitor, however he
may serve us a while; yet thou art not over-wise, good friend, to let
such trifles chafe thee thus. Trust me, Edward will think more of the
captives than the capture."
"There was a time he would not," answered the earl, mournfully; "a time,
when Edward would have held it foul scorn to war with women, and worse
than scorn to obtain their persons by treachery, as now."
"Aye, but he has changed, and we must change too, would we please him,"
said the baron; "such notions might have done in former days, but they
are too high-flown for the present time, my good lord. I marvel they
should have lingered so long with thee."
A frown gathered on Hereford's broad and noble brow, but remembering the
forbearance due to his host, he checked an angry reply. "The king _has_
changed," he said, "darkly and painfully changed; ambition has warped
the noblest, knightliest heart which ever beat for chivalry."
"Hush, ere thou speakest treason, Sir Earl; give me not the pain of
draining another flagon of this sparkling hypocras to gain strength for
thine arrest, good friend," exclaimed Lancaster, laying the flat of his
sword on the earl's shoulder.
Hereford half smiled. "Thou art too happy in thy light-hearted mirth for
me to say aught that would so disturb it," he said; "yet I say, and will
say again, would to heaven, I had been before the gates of Kildrummie,
and left to thee all the honor and glory, an thou wilt, of this
capture."
"Honor and glory, thou bitter piece of satire!" rejoined Lancaster,
holding up a large golden flagon, to hide his face from the earl.
"Unhappy me, were this all the glory I could win. I will wipe away the
stain, if stain there be, at Kildrummie, an it be not surrendered ere we
reach it."
"The stain is with the base traitor Ross, not with thee or me," answered
Hereford; "'tis that I abhor the nature of such expeditions, that I
loathe, aye, loathe communication with such as he, and that--if it can
be--that worse traitor Buchan, that makes me rejoice I have naught
before me now but as fair a field as a siege may be. Would to God, this
devastating and most cruel war were over, I do say! on a fair field it
may be borne, but not to war with women and children, as has been my
fate."
"Aye, by the way, this is not the first fair prize thou hast sent to
Edward; the Countess of Buchan was a rare jewel for our coveting
monarch--somewhat more than possession, there was room for vengeance
there. Bore she her captivity more queenly than the sobbing and weeping
Margaret?"
The question was reiterated by most of the knights around the dais, but
Hereford evidently shrunk from the inquiry.
"Speak not of it, I charge ye," he said. "There is no room for jesting
on grief as hers; majestic and glorious she was, but if the reported
tale be true, her every thought, her every feeling was, as I even then
imagined, swallowed up in one tearless and stern but all-engrossing
anguish."
"The reported tale! meanest thou the fate of her son?" asked one of the
knights.
"If it be true!" resumed another; "believest thou, my lord, there is
aught of hope to prove it false?"
"More likely to be true than false," added Lancaster; "I can believe any
thing of that dark scowling villain Buchan--even the murder of his
child."
"I believe it _not_," answered Hereford; "bad as that man is, hard in
heart as in temper, he has too much policy to act thus, even if he had
no feelings of nature rising to prevent it. No, no; I would wager the
ruby brooch in my helmet that boy lives, and his father will make use of
him to forward his own interests yet."
"But why then forge this tale?" demanded their host; "how may that serve
his purpose?"
"Easily enough, with regard to the vengeance we all know he vowed to
wreak on his unhappy wife. What deeper misery could he inflict upon her
than the belief her boy was murdered? and as for its effect on Edward,
trust a Comyn to make his own way clear."
"But what do with the boy meanwhile?"
"Keep him under lock and key; chained up, may be, as a dog in a kennel,
till he has broken his high spirit, and moulds him to the tool he
wills," answered Hereford, "or at least till his mother is out of his
path."
"Ha! thinkest thou the king will demand such sweeping vengeance? He
surely will not sentence a woman to death."
"Had I thought so, had I only dreamed so," replied Hereford, with almost
startling sternness, "as there is a God above us, I would have risked
the charge of treason and refused to give her up! But no, my lords, no;
changed as Edward is, he would not, he dared not use his power thus. I
meant but imprisonment, when I said out of the boy's path--more he will
not do; but even such I love not. Bold as it was to crown the rebel
Bruce, the deed sprung from a noble heart, and noble deeds should meet
with noble judgment."
A bugle sounded twice or thrice sharply without, and occasioning some
bustle at the lower part of the ball, interrupted for a brief space the
converse of the lords. A few minutes after, the seneschal, attended by
two or three higher servants, returned, marshalling in due form two
young men in the garb of esquires, followed by some fifteen or twenty
men-at-arms.
"Ha! Fitz-Ernest and Hugo; well met, and ye bring us good tidings from
Kildrummie," exclaimed both the English earls at once, as cap in hand
the esquires slowly walked up the hall, and did obeisance to their
masters.
"Yet your steps are somewhat laggard, as they bring us news of victory.
By my troth, were it not utterly impossible, I could deem ye had been
worsted in the strife," continued the impatient Lancaster, while the
cooler and more sagacious Hereford scanned the countenances of the
esquires in silence. "Yet and ye come not to tell of victory, why have
ye come at all?"
"To beseech your lordship's speedy return, to the camp," replied
Fitz-Ernest, after a moment's hesitation, his cheek still flushed from
his master's words. "There is division of purpose and action in the
camp, and an ye not return and head the attack your noble selves, I fear
me there is little hope of victory."
"Peace, fool! is there such skill and wisdom needed? Division in purpose
and action! Quarrelling, methinks, had better be turned against the
enemy than against yourselves. Hugo, do thou speak; in plain terms,
wherefore come ye?"
"In plain terms, then, good my lord, as yet we have had the worst of
it," answered the esquire, bluntly. "The Scotch fight like very devils,
attacking us instead of waiting for our attack, penetrating into the
very centre of our camp, one knows not how or whence, bearing off
prisoners and booty in our very teeth."
"Prisoners--booty--worsted! Thou durst not tell me so!" exclaimed
Lancaster, furiously, as he started up and half drew his sword.
"Peace, peace, I pray thee, good friend, peace," continued Hereford,
laying his hand on Lancaster's shoulder, with a force which compelled
him to resume his seat. "Let us at least hear and understand their
mission. Speak out, Hugo, and briefly--what has befallen?"
In a few straightforward words his esquire gave all the information
which was needed, interrupted only now and then by a brief interrogation
from Hereford, and some impatient starts and muttering from his
colleague. The success of the Scots, described in a former page, had
continued, despite the action of the mangonels and other engines which
the massive walls appeared to hold in defiance. So watchful and skilful
were the besieged, that the greatest havoc had been made amongst the men
employed in working the engines, and not yet had even the palisades and
barbacan been successfully stormed.
"Have they tried any weaker point?" Hereford asked, and the answer was,
that it was on this very matter division had spread amongst the knights,
some insisting on carrying the barbacan as the most important point, and
others advising and declaring their only hope of success lay in a
divided attack on two of the weaker sides at once.
"The fools, the sorry fools!" burst again from Lancaster. "They deserve
to be worsted for their inordinate pride and folly; all wanted to lead,
and none would follow. Give you good e'en, my lord," he added, turning
hastily to his host; "I'll to the courtyard and muster forth my men.
Fitz-Ernest, thou shalt speak on as we go," and drawing his furred
mantle around him, he strode rapidly yet haughtily from the hall.
Hereford only waited to learn all from Hugo, to hold a brief
consultation with some of his attendant knights, and he too, despite the
entreaties of his host to tarry with him at least till morning, left the
banquet to don his armor.
"Silence and speed carry all before them, my good lord," he said,
courteously. "In such a case, though I fear no eventual evil, they must
not be neglected. I would change the mode of attack on these Scotch, ere
they are even aware their foes are reinforced."
"Eventual evil, of a truth, there need not be, my lord," interposed his
esquire, "even should no force of arms prevail. I have heard there are
some within the walls who need but a golden bribe to do the work for
us."
"Peace!" said the nobleman, sternly. "I loathe the very word
betray--spoken or intended. Shame, shame on thee to speak it, and yet
more shame to imagine it needed! Art thou of Norman birth, and deemest a
handful of Scotch like these will bid us raise the siege and tamely
depart?--yet better so than gained by treachery."
Hugo and the Scottish baron alike shrunk back from the reproving look of
Hereford, and both silently followed him to the courtyard. Already it
was a scene of bustling animation: trumpets were sounding and drums
rolling; torches flashing through the darkness on the mailed coats of
the knights and on gleaming weapons; and the heavy tramp of near two
hundred horse, hastily accoutred and led from the stable, mingled with
the hoarse winds of winter, howling tempestuously around. The reserve
which Hereford had retained to guard the prisoners so treacherously
delivered over to him, was composed of the noblest amidst his army,
almost all mounted chevaliers; and, therefore, though he might not add
much actual force to the besiegers, the military skill and experience
which that little troop included argued ill for the besieged. Some of
the heaviest engines he had kept back also, particularly a tower some
four or five stories high, so constructed that it could be rolled to the
walls, and its inmates ascend unscathed by the weapons of their
defenders. Not imagining it would be needed, he had not sent it on with
the main body, but now he commanded twelve of the strongest horses to be
yoked to it, and on went the unwieldy engine, rumbling and staggering on
its ill-formed wheels. Lancaster, whose impatience no advice could ever
control, dashed on with the first troop, leaving his cooler comrade to
look to the yoking of the engines and the marshalling the men, and with
his own immediate attendants bringing up the rear, a task for which
Hereford's self-command as well fitted him as his daring gallantry to
head the foremost charge.
"Ye will have a rough journey, my good lord; yet an ye deem it best,
farewell and heaven speed ye," was the parting greeting of the baron, as
he stood beside the impatient charger of the earl.
"The rougher the better," was that nobleman's reply; "the noise of the
wind will conceal our movements better than a calmer night. Farewell,
and thanks--a soldier's thanks, my lord, poor yet honest--for thy right
noble welcome."
He bent his head courteously, set spurs to his steed, and dashed over
the drawbridge as the last of his men disappeared through the outer
gate. The Scottish nobleman looked after him with many mingled feelings.
"As noble a warrior as ever breathed," he muttered; "it were honor to
serve under him, yet an he wants me not I will not join him. I love not
the Bruce, yet uncalled, unneeded, I will not raise sword against my
countrymen," and with slow, and equal steps he returned to the hall.
Hereford was correct in his surmises. The pitchy darkness of a winter
night would scarcely have sufficed to hide the movements attendant on
the sudden arrival of a large body of men in the English camp, had not
the hoarse artillery of the wind, moaning, sweeping, and then rushing
o'er the hills with a crashing sound like thunder, completely smothered
every other sound, and if at intervals of quiet unusual sounds did
attract the ears of those eager watchers on the Scottish walls, the
utter impossibility of kindling torches or fires in either camp
frustrated every effort of discovery. Hoarser and wilder grew the
whirlwind with the waning hours, till even the steel-clad men-at-arms
stationed on the walls moved before it, and were compelled to crouch
down till its violence had passed. Favored by the elements, Hereford
proceeded to execute his measures, heedless alike of the joyful surprise
his sudden appearance occasioned, and of the tale of division and
discord which Hugo and Fitz-Ernest had reported as destroying the unity
of the camp. Briefly and sternly refusing audience to each who pressed
forward, eager to exculpate himself at the expense of his companions, he
desired his esquire to proclaim a general amnesty to all who allowed
themselves to have been in error, and would henceforth implicitly obey
his commands; he returned to his pavilion, with the Earl of Lancaster,
summoning around him the veterans of the army, and a brief consultation
was held. They informed him the greatest mischief had been occasioned by
the injuries done to the engines, which had been brought to play against
the walls. Stones of immense weight had been hurled upon them,
materially injuring their works, and attended with such fatal slaughter
to the men who worked them, that even the bravest shrunk back appalled;
that the advice of the senior officers had been to hold back until these
engines were repaired, merely keeping strict guard against unexpected
sallies on the part of the Scotch, as this would not only give them time
to recruit their strength, but in all probability throw the besieged off
their guard. Not above half of the army, however, agreed with this
counsel; the younger and less wary spurned it as cowardice and folly,
and rushing on to the attack, ill-formed and ill-conducted, had ever
been beaten back with immense loss; defeat, however, instead of teaching
prudence, lashed them into greater fury, which sometimes turned upon
each other.
Hereford listened calmly, yet with deep attention, now and then indeed
turning his expressive eyes towards his colleague, as if entreating him
to observe that the mischief which had befallen them proceeded greatly
from impetuosity and imprudence, and beseeching his forbearance. Nor was
Lancaster regardless of this silent appeal; conscious of his equality
with Hereford in bravery and nobleness, he disdained not to acknowledge
his inferiority to him in that greater coolness, which in a siege is so
much needed, and grasping his hand with generous fervor, bade him speak,
advise, command, and he would find no one in the camp more ready to be
counselled and to obey than Lancaster. To tear down those rebel colors
and raise those of England in their stead, was all he asked.
"And fear not that task shall be other than thine own, my gallant
friend," was Hereford's instant reply, his features kindling at
Lancaster's words more than they had done yet; and then again quickly
resuming his calm unimpassioned exterior, he inquired if the mangonels
and other engines were again fit for use. There were several that could
instantly be put in action was the reply. Had the numbers of fighting
men within the castle been ascertained? They had, a veteran answered,
from a prisoner, who had appeared so willing to give information, that
his captors imagined there were very many malcontents within the walls.
Of stalwart fighting men there were scarcely more than three hundred;
others there were, of whose number was the prisoner, who fought because
their companions' swords would else have been at their throats, but that
they would be glad enough to be made prisoners, to escape the horrors of
the siege.
"I am sorry for it," was the earl's sole rejoinder, "there will be less
glory in the conquest."
"And this Sir Nigel Bruce, whoe'er he be, hath to combat against
fearful odds," remarked Lancaster; "and these Scotch-men, by my troth,
seem touched by the hoof of the arch-deceiver--treachery from the earl
to the peasant. Hast noticed how this scion of the Bruce bears
himself?--right gallantly, 'tis said."
"As a very devil, my lord," impetuously answered a knight; "in the walls
or out of them, there's no standing before him. He sweeps down his foes,
line after line, as cards blown before the wind; he is at the head of
every charge, the last of each retreat. But yesternight there were those
who marked him covering the retreat of his men absolutely alone; his
sword struck down two at every sweep, till his passage was cleared; he
darted on--the drawbridge trembled in its grooves--for he had given the
command to raise it, despite his own danger--his charger, mad as
himself, sprang forward, and like a lightning flash, both disappeared
within the portcullis as the bridge uprose."
"Gallantly done!" exclaimed Lancaster, who had listened to this recital
almost breathlessly. "By St. George, a foe worthy to meet and struggle
with! But who is he--what is he?"
"Knowest thou not?" said Hereford, surprised; "the brother, youngest
brother I have heard, of this same daring Earl of Carrick who has so
troubled our sovereign."
"Nigel, the brother of Robert! What, the scribe, the poet, the dreamer
of Edward's court? a poor youth, with naught but his beauty to recommend
him. By all good angels, this metamorphosis soundeth strangely! art sure
'tis the same, the very same?"
"I have heard so," was Hereford's quiet reply, and continuing his more
important queries with the veterans around, while Lancaster, his gayer
spirit roused by this account of Nigel, demanded every minute particular
concerning him, that he might seek him hand to hand.
"Steel armor inlaid with silver--blue scarf across his breast,
embroidered with his cognizance in gold--blue plume, which no English
sword hath ever soiled--humph! that's reserved for me--charger white as
the snow on the ground--sits his steed as man and horse were one. Well,
gloriously well, there will be no lack of glory here!" he said,
joyously, as one by one he slowly enumerated the symbols by which he
might recognize his foe. So expeditiously had Hereford conducted his
well-arranged plans, that when his council was over, it still wanted two
hours to dawn, and these Hereford commanded the men who had accompanied
him to pass in repose.
But he himself partook not of this repose, passing the remainder of the
darkness in carefully reviewing the forces which were still fresh and
prepared for the onset, in examining the nature of the engines, and
finally, still aided by the noise of the howling winds, marshalled them
in formidable array in very front of the barbacan, the heavy mist thrown
onward by the blasts effectually concealing their near approach. To
Lancaster the command of this party was intrusted; Hereford reserving to
himself the desirable yet delicate task of surveying the ground,
confident that the attack on the barbacan would demand the whole
strength and attention of the besieged, and thus effectually cover his
movements.
His plan succeeded. A fearful shout, seconded by a tremendous discharge
of huge stones, some of which rattled against the massive walls in vain,
others flying across the moat and crushing some of the men on the inner
wall, were the first terrific sounds which unexpectedly greeted the
aroused attention of the Scotch. The armor of their foes flashing
through the mist, the furious charge of the knights up to the very gates
of the barbacan, seemingly in sterner and more compact array than of
late had been their wont, the immense body which followed them,
appearing in that dim light more numerous than reality, struck a
momentary chill on the Scottish garrison; but the unwonted emotion was
speedily dissipated by the instant and unhesitating sally of Sir
Christopher Seaton and his brave companions. The impetuosity of their
charge, the suddenness of their appearance, despite their great
disparity of numbers, caused the English a moment to bear back, and kept
them in full play until Nigel and his men-at-arms, rushing over the
lowered drawbridge, joined in the strife. A brief, very brief interval
of fighting convinced both the Scottish leaders that a master-spirit now
headed their foes; that they were struggling at infinitely greater odds
than before; that unity of purpose, greater sagacity, and military skill
were now at work against them, they scarce knew wherefore, for they
recognized the same war-cry, the same banners; there were the same
gallant show of knights, for in the desperate _mêlée_ it was scarcely
possible to distinguish the noble form of Lancaster from his fellows,
although marking the azure plume, which even then waved high above all
others, though round it the work of death ever waxed hottest; the
efforts of the English earl were all bent to meet its gallant wearer
hand to hand, but the press of war still held them apart, though both
seemed in every part of the field. It was a desperate struggle man to
man; the clash of swords became one strange continuous mass of sound,
instead of the fearful distinctness which had marked their work before.
Shouts and cries mingled fearfully with the sharper clang, the heavy
fall of man and horse, the creaking of the engines, the wild shrieks of
the victims within the walls mangled by the stones, or from the
survivors who witnessed their fall--all formed a din as terrific to
hear, as dreadful to behold. With even more than their wonted bravery
the Scotch fought, but with less success. The charge of the English was
no longer the impetuous fury of a few hot-headed young men, more eager
to _despite_ their cooler advisers, than gain any permanent good for
themselves. Now, as one man fell another stepped forward in his place,
and though the slaughter might have been equal, nay, greater on the side
of the besiegers than the besieged, by one it was scarcely felt, by the
other the death of each man was even as the loss of a host. Still, still
they struggled on, the English obtaining possession of the palisades,
though the immense strength of the barbacan itself, defended as it was
by the strenuous efforts of the Scotch, still resisted all attack:
bravely, nobly, the besieged retreated within their walls, pellmell
their foes dashed after them, and terrific was the combat on the
drawbridge, which groaned and creaked beneath the heavy tramp of man and
horse. Many, wrestling in the fierceness of mortal strife, fell together
in the moat, and encumbered with heavy armor, sunk in each other's arms,
in the grim clasp of death.
Then it was Lancaster met hand to hand the gallant foe he sought,
covering the retreat of his men, who were bearing Sir Christopher
Seaton, desperately wounded, to the castle. Sir Nigel stood well-nigh
alone on the bridge; his bright armor, his foaming charger bore evident
marks of the fray, but still he rode his steed firmly and unbent, his
plume yet waved untouched by the foeman's sword. Nearer and nearer
pressed forward the English earl, signing to his men to secure without
wounding his gallant foe; round him they closely gathered, but Nigel
evinced no sign either of trepidation or anger, fearlessly, gallantly,
he returned the earl's impetuous charge, backing his steed slowly as he
did so, and keeping his full front to his foe. On, on pressed Lancaster,
even to the postern; a bound, a shout, and scarcely was he aware that
his sword had ceased to cross with Nigel's, before he was startled by
the heavy fall of the portcullis, effectually dividing them, and utterly
frustrating further pursuit. A cry of rage, of disappointment broke from
the English, as they were compelled to turn and rejoin their friends.
The strife still continued within and without the barbacan, and ended
without much advantage on either side. The palisades and outward
barriers had indeed fallen into the hands of the English, which was the
first serious loss yet sustained by the besieged; from the barbacan they
had gallantly and successfully driven their foe, but that trifling
success was so counterbalanced by the serious loss of life amid the
garrison which it included, that both Nigel and Sir Christopher felt the
next attack must deliver it into the hands of the besiegers. Their loss
of men was in reality scarcely a third of the number which had fallen
among the English, yet to them that loss was of infinitely more
consequence than to the foe. Bitter and painful emotions filled the
noble spirit of Nigel, as he gazed on the diminished number of his men,
and met the ill-suppressed groans and lamentations of those who had, at
the first alarm of the English, sought shelter and protection in the
castle; their ill-suppressed entreaties that he would struggle no longer
against such odds grated harshly and ominously on his ear; but sternly
he turned from them to the men-at-arms, and in their steadfast bravery
and joyous acclamations found some degree of hope.
Yet ere the day closed the besieged felt too truly their dreams of
triumph, of final success, little short of a miracle would realize.
Their fancy that some new and mightier spirit of generalship was at work
within the English camp was confirmed. Two distinct bodies were observed
at work on the eastern and southern sides of the mount, the one
evidently employed in turning aside the bed of the river, which on that
side flowed instead of the moat beneath the wall, the other in
endeavoring to fill up the moat by a causeway, so as to admit of an
easy access to the outer wall. The progress they had made in their work
the first day, while the attention of the Scotch had been confined to
the attack on the barbacan, was all-sufficient evidence of their intent;
and with bitter sorrow Sir Nigel and his brother-in-law felt that their
only means of any efficient defence lay in resigning the long-contested
barbacan to the besiegers. An important point it certainly was, but
still to retain it the walls overlooking the more silent efforts of the
English must be left comparatively unguarded, and they might obtain an
almost uninterrupted and scarce-contested passage within the walls,
while the whole strength and attention of the besieged were employed, as
had already been the case, on a point that they had scarce a hope
eventually to retain. With deep and bitter sorrow the alternative was
proposed and carried in a hurried council of war, and so well acted
upon, that, despite the extreme watchfulness of the English, men,
treasure, arms, and artillery, all that the strong towers contained,
were conveyed at dead of night over the drawbridge into the castle, and
the following morning, Lancaster, in utter astonishment, took possession
of the deserted fort.
Perhaps to both parties this resolution was alike a disappointment and
restraint. The English felt there was no glory in their prize, they had
not obtained possession through their own prowess and skill; and now
that the siege had become so much closer, and this point of
communication was entirely stopped, the hand-to-hand combat, the
glorious _mélée_, the press of war, which to both parties had been an
excitement, and little more than warlike recreation, had of course
entirely ceased, but Hereford heeded not the disappointment of his men;
his plans were progressing as he had desired, even though his workmen
were greatly harassed by the continued discharge of arrows and immense
stones from the walls.
The desertion of the barbacan was an all-convincing proof of the very
small number of the garrison; and though the immense thickness and
solidity of the walls bespoke time, patience, and control, the English
earl never wavered from his purpose, and by his firmness, his personal
gallantry, his readily-bestowed approbation on all who demanded it, he
contrived to keep his more impatient followers steadily to their task;
while Nigel, to prevent the spirits of his men from sinking, would
frequently lead them forth at night, and by a sudden attack annoy and
often cut off many of the men stationed within the barbacan. The
drawbridge was the precarious ground of many a midnight strife, till the
daring gallantry of Nigel Bruce became the theme of every tongue; a
gallantry equalled only by the consummate skill which he displayed, in
retreating within his entrenchments frequently without the loss of a
single man either as killed or wounded. Often would Sir Christopher
Seaton, whose wounds still bound him a most unwilling prisoner to his
couch, entreat him to avoid such rash exposures of his life, but Nigel
only answered him with a smile and an assurance he bore a charmed life,
which the sword of the foe could not touch.
The siege had now lasted six weeks, and the position of both parties
continued much as we have seen, save that the bed of the river had now
begun to appear, promising a free passage to the English on the eastern
side, and on the south a broad causeway had stretched itself over the
moat, on which the towers for defending the ascent of the walls,
mangonels and other engines, were already safely bestowed, and all
promised fair to the besiegers, whose numerous forces scarcely appeared
to have suffered any diminution, although in reality some hundreds had
fallen; while on the side of the besieged, although the walls were still
most gallantly manned, and the first efforts of the English to scale the
walls had been rendered ineffectual by huge stones hurled down upon
them, still a look of greater care was observable on the brows of both
officers and men; and provisions had now begun to be doled out by weight
and measure, for though the granaries still possessed stores sufficient
for some weeks longer, the apparent determination of the English to
permit no relaxation in their close attack, demanded increase of caution
on the part of the besieged.
About this time an event occurred, which, though comparatively trifling
in itself, when the lives of so many were concerned, was fraught in
effect with fatal consequences to all the inmates of Kildrummie. The
conversation of the next chapter, however, will better explain it, and
to it we refer our readers.