_Cher._ That story of our captain's is rather an odd story. Is
it not, Mark?
_Mark._ Rather of the wonderful.
_Ford._
"I dinna ken but I could maybe tell ye something about him an I liket,"
said Tam Craik; "but I wad maybe be as wise to haud my tongue."
"I wad like very weel to hear mair about him," said Charlie; "for his
life has had such a queer beginning, it maun surely hae had a queer
end."
"But what an it shouldna be endit yet, Yardbire," said Tam: "Marion's
Jock is perhaps living, and life-like, to tell his ain tale. However,
we'll say nae mair about that just now, till you tell us what you think
o' Gibbie Jordan's tale. For my part, I never heard a tale I was sae
muckle interested in a' my life."
"It is ane o' the best tales _o' the kind_ that ever I heard," said
Charlie.
"It is a most abominable tale," said the poet.
"In what way, Master Poet?" said Charlie: "I dinna like to hear ony body
condemned without reason."
"It is for the badness of the moral that I do it dislike," said the
poet: "The moral is so truly bad, all mankind it must must shock; it is
to kill this harmless lamb, the flower of all the flock,--to feed upon
her lovely form that's fairer than the snow,--to eat her flesh and drink
her blood! It makes mine eyes to flow!"
"Gude faith, an I thought that war his drift, I wad brain him," said
Charlie; "and I confess it looks rather like it."
"There can be no doubt of it," said Master Michael Scott: "The maid
Delany is the favourite lamb, whom he wishes you to kill and feast on in
the same delicious manner as did the hero of his tale; and I am the
goodman whom you are to stick afterwards, and fairly make your escape."
"It is a shocking tale I really doubt," said Charlie; "and throws a
disgrace and an imputation o' something unseemly on my chief and a' his
friends, and I winna put up wi' it."
"I do propose that from the walls the caitiff we do throw," said the
poet; "or kill and eat for dainty meat the laird of Peatstacknowe."
"I fear if the votes were to be ta'en just now he wad hae an ill
chance," said Charlie: "But it's fair in ha' where beards wag a'. Let
ilk ane of us hae a fair chance. There may be mae bad morals amang us.
Wha's turn is't next?"
Charlie himself, being next in point of seniority, was called on for his
tale.
"I hae been thinking hard what tale I should tell you," said Charlie;
"but I find I can tell nought but the thing I hae seen, and I'll be
pinched sair eneuch to make sense o' that. Therefore, gin ye like, I'll
tell ye my first adventure in war,--for I aye mind it the best, and will
do as lang as I live."
Charlie Scott's Tale.
It was under the command of Hab Elliot that I made my first raide; a gay
rough spun cout he was, and nae cannie hand for a southland valley.
Weel, you see, there was a chap came to my father's house at Yardbire ae
morning, and he says to my father, "Wat," says he, (that was my father's
name, what he ca'ed me Charlie for I dinna ken, for I never spier'd,)
"Wat," says the chiel, "ye maun raise your lads, and tie on your
wallets, and meet the warden the morn at the Hawk-Hass, there's gaun to
be a stoure on the east border."
"An there be a stoure on the east border I's be there for ane," said my
father; "but the de'il ae man hae I left but auld Will Nicol and the
callant Charlie. There hae seven men o' Moodlaw and Yardbire fa'en sin
Beltan. I canna mak men, but I shall fight wi' them I have. As for
Charlie, he disna want spirit, but he's unco young and supple, and will
mak but a weak stand in a strong blast: Auld Will he kens brawly how to
take care care o' himsel; and, atween the twa, I may be ill bestedde.
But, gae as it will, I'll be there."
I was a massy blade that day when I gaed o'er Craik-Corse riding at my
father's side. I was sae upliftit I could hardly sit on my yaud; and I
saw my father was proud o' his callant, as he ca'ed me,--that made me
ten times waur. The first men we came at were the lang-shankit Laidlaws
o' Craik; and then the Grahams o' Drife they came up wi' us; and when we
came to Howpasley, my father got the laird's right hand, and we gaed
ower Skelfhill-swire seven score and ten, but there were only fifty o'
us had horse, and mine was ane o' the best."
"Wha's this stripling that rides the good dun mare," said the laird o'
Howpasley.
"That's my bit niff-naff of a callant," says my father: "That's my
Charlie, cousin John."
"He's a twig of a good tree," said Howpasley: "I like the spark gayan
weel, if he wad ride a little evener up, an' no haud forrit his head
like a woodcock. But, my word, he has a lang arm!"
"Ay, a pair o' them, cousin," said my father; and the twa carles hotched
and leuch at my father's joke.
The warden was lying at the Hawk-Hass wi' twal score o' good men; but
there were nane o' them had horses but the Elliots, and some gentlemen
of the Scotts. When Sir Ringan saw us coming, he came out on foot to
meet us; and when the gentlemen of our party saw that, they lighted off
their horses, gae them to their henchmen, and walked out before the men.
Howpasley walked on the right hand, my father next, and, as he desired
me, I came slounging up next him. I lookit best on foot, for my legs
were sic a length; I was higher in fact by half a foot than either John
of Howpasley or my father, but a perfect tripe for sma'ness. When our
captain, the brave Redhough, came near to us, I thought I should hae
swarfed; my heart dunt-duntit like a man humblin bear, and I was maist
gasping for breath. I had hard sae muckle o' his bravery that I
expectit an auld, gruff, austere carle, as proud as Lucifer, to meet us.
But, instead o' that, I sees a boardly knight in the very prime o' manly
beauty: his cheeks were ruddy, his eyes dark, and the black beard on his
booner lip was just beginning to curl upward. My heart was a' his ain at
the first look; and I said to mysel, "Ye're the man that I'll risk my
neck wi' ony day." I likit him sae weel that I mind I thought I could
just hae lain down in a gutter, and letten him tramp on the tap o' me.
He first shook Howpasley by the hand, and then my father; and then he
gave a broad look to my beardless face, turning his eye back to my
father's.
"That's my Charlie, Sir Ringan; my only son now," said my father.
"You are welcome, cousin Charlie, to our camp," said he: "If ye be as
brave a man as your father, I shall never want a hero at my side."
I should hae said something in return, but the deil a word I could say,
for I was like to fa' to the fuffing and greeting. He spake to a' the
gentlemen in the same kind hamely manner; and then lookit at a' the men,
and spiered how mony belonged to every ane.
"And how many are with you, cousin Yardbire?" said he.
"They are a' here that I hae, noble chief," said my father: "Last year
at this time I brought forty to the field, and now I hae nae ane but my
auld henchman and that lad. We hae somehow been ower rash, and I now get
a' the wyte. They ca' me Wat the Waster,--and not a man will haud land
under me."
"Ay, ay, Yardbire," said he; "you and your men hae stood the brunt of
the battle ower often for me and mine. But you are grown auld, and ye
maunna claim the post of honour ony mair till Charlie come to his
strength. I'll make you captain this day o' the best troop you ever led.
You shall hae the hard-headed Olivers, the grimy Potts, and the
skrae-shankit Laidlaws; and you shall form my flying party--"
My father here interrupted him with "Na, na, my master, deil a flying
troop I'll lead! if it binna a fighting ane, it winna follow me lang."
The warden smiled; and calling out all the men of the families he had
named, he put such of them as had horses under the command of my father.
Of these there were forty-seven, so that our troop consisted of fifty
men in all. We were joined with the Elliots; but Habby having ninety men
of his own name, the command of the horse devolved on him, and my father
was only looked on as the second. I didna like this unco weel; but it
coudna be helped, and I was glad to be in the field ony way.
The first sight we got o' the English was frae the top o' Penchrist; but
a' that day we could only ken where they were by the reek they were
raising. My blood boiled when I saw them burning the houses o' Scotsmen,
and fain wad I hae had a hand-shaking wi' them.
There was ae message came after another a' that day. The Kers had been
beat and chased across the river, and the English host had over-run
their territory. Our chief didna seem to care for that sae muckle as I
thought, nor wad he stir his foot till they crossed the Rule. There war
mae men came in every hour, for the beacons were a' bleezing; and as
soon as the English set foot on the territory of the middle marches,
away we rade straight to meet them.
It was on the hill of Hawthornside where I first saw the face o' an
enemy; and I'll never forget sic queer strummings as I had within me.
Oh, I wad fain hae been at them! There was a kind o' yeuk, a kind o'
kittling, a sort o' prinkling in my blood like, that I fand wadna be
cured but by the slap o' a sword or the point o' a spear. Instead o'
being feared for a wound, I wad hae gi'en my horse and light armour
baith to have had a good prodd frae an Englishman,--but I wad hae liket
that the warden had seen me.
We kept the hills between them and the border wi' our horse, but the
foot kept the straits to the westward. Forbye the Elliots, and my
father's troop o' Potts, and Olivers, and skrae-shankit Laidlaws, the
warden had three hundred Scotts on horseback; so that in all he had
short o' five hundred horse, and about eight hundred foot. At the head
o' his horse he rade straight up to the faces o' the English, and
challenged them in our king's name to tell their business in that place.
Up came an English knight, Sir Robert Neville of Ravensworth, and he
crackit baith proudly and saucily, but I didna ken weel what he said. He
threatened no to leave a beast or a body atween Borthwick and the
Border. Our captain was as crouse as the other, sae there was nothing
but ill blude atween them; but the thing that we likit warst of a' was
the certainty that he had eight thousand men, being just sax for our
ane.
The warden then held a council o' friends upon the top of the hill, and
in view of the English host. Some said ae thing and some said another to
him; but at length he turned to my father, and he says, "What says our
cousin Walter o' Eskdale to a' this? But I needna speer that,--he never
gae me aught but ae advice a' his life."
"I'll tell you what I wad do, captain," says my father: "Afore yon sun
were twa cock-strides down the west I wad fight them."
"I kend what it wad be," said the warden. "But, my brave Yardbire, are
you considering the disproportion o' force?"
"What's that to think about?" said he, "the greater the better!"
The warden claspit him in his arms, and the tears came hopping down my
muckle soft flobby cheeks.
"Yes, captain," continued my father, "I hae been thinking o' the odds
against us, and I am thinking o't just now. But ye ken art may do
muckle."
"Now, to hear him speaking about art!" said the warden, pushing him
playfully around by the shoulder,--"To hear a man speaking sagely about
art, that never thought of ony other art in his life but hard hand
nevel! Pray now, my dear cousin, will ye let us hear this deep profound
art o' yours, that will enable ae man to beat half a dozen?"
"I wad form our little army into the shape o' a wedge," said my father;
"and I wad yerk that little wedge into the heart of their great log of
an army, and split it a' to shivers."
"G--d a mercy, hear to him!" cried the warden. "And pray what is to form
the point o' this wedge, Yardbire?"
"Just my grey naig's head, captain."
"I kend weel what it wad come to, cousin. Your grey naig's head wad soon
be cracked; but an ought were to happen yours, what wad come o' me?"
I thought sae muckle o' my auld father, that I couldna haud my tongue
nae langer, and that was the first word I ever spake to the warden in my
life. "Never fear, my master," quo' I; "it winna be ilka ane that sal
crack his grey crown the day."
"Weel said, Charlie!" cried the auld hero; and he waved his cap round
his head, "Weel said, little Charlie! Now, captain, for the wedge!"
The warden lookit a good while at us without speaking, and I gart mysel
trow there was a blink o' admiration in his dark eye; "Ah, Wat, Wat!"
said he; "weel do you ken I'm ower ready to follow your mad schemes!
But they have sae often proved successfu', though wi' very hard wark,
that I'll e'en take the risk, and sey your skill aince mair."
He then drew his horse from the height into the glen behind, and formed
them precisely on my father's plan, with a troop of horse in front, and
one on each wing, the foot being arranged in close column in the middle;
and as my father claimed the post of honour as his right, he rode the
front man: Will Nicol and I were next him, and behind us there were four
of the Laidlaws. I saw no farther, but was informed after that when the
horse made the charge, the foot had orders to run and keep up with them.
We took a sweep down the water to the north, and appeared all of a
sudden in the rear of the English army. Their scouts had seen us, but
could not guess our intent; for as to a thought of our attacking them,
that never entered their heads, so that their host was not new-modelled
farther than their columns facing about toward us. They deemed we were
going to retreat toward the north, and were making ready to pursue us,
when all at once the point of the wedge turned at a right angle, and
rushed with all haste on the centre of their line.
Then there was such a hubbub, and calling, and noise of armour rattling
throughout their army as I had never heard! My father spurred on, and,
after some few hard blows, opened the line. He had the least to do of
any, for the ranks opened naturally before him as he heaved his heavy
sword. But ever as their wedge grew thicker, their columns being pressed
together, lay the heavier on our flanks, and several gallant men of the
Scots fell. I saw naething o' this, but soon fand the effects of it; for
my father drove faster on than the flankers could bear up after him, and
our point lengthened out and grew thinner at every step. I had been unco
keen o' fighting, but I got my fill o't then. I trow I gae some o' them
some gay good yerks on the chafts.
Ravensworth by this time perceiving the danger in which his army stood
of being divided, brought up his side columns and closed around our
front. I heard him saying in a loud exasperated voice, "For shame,
countrymen! for shame! will ye suffer a landward Scots laird, an auld
crabbit loun like that, to ride in through your ranks and out through
your ranks, as they were files o' thistles? Down with the moorland
thief! down with him!"
"Aha, Robin o' Ravensworth, is that you?" cried my father: "An I win
within sword's length o' you I shall settle your crack."
As he said this he raised himself up in his stirrups. Auld Will Nicol
roared out, "For Christ's sake, master, stop!" But, in place of that, he
spurred up to the captain with all his might, challenging him to come
forward. Neville kept his ground, and prepared for the attack, but
refused to come forward; and, just as my father and he began to measure
swords, my father was struck by six or seven spears all at once on his
left side. Some of these he received on his buckler, but others of them
pierced his side, and, before any of us could lend him the least
assistance, he was unhorsed. Ravensworth also gave him a wound as he was
falling. I, who was close behind him, and a-head of all the rest, was
now hard bested. I clove the head of the first spearman on my left; and
ere I had recovered my sword from the stroke, Ravensworth's sword was at
my breast; and I have no doubt that stroke would have slain me, had it
not been for a plunge made by my father's horse, that came between us
and marred it. By this time the Laidlaws had come up on my right,--a
wheen as hardy, determined louns as ever brak warld's bread,--and they
were laying about them like incarnate devils. The horse kept the lancers
from reaching me on the left, so that Ravensworth and I met fairly hand
to hand. Sure am I that I never gae sic a straik sinsyne, nor ane wi'
sic good will. I dinna think I clave his helmet, but I gae him sic a
devil o' a knab on the temple, that he was stoundit, and fell as dead as
a stane at my horse's feet. My father was at that time on his knee, and
I saw him trying to raise himself up by the stirrup-leather, for he had
never yet quitted the bridle of his horse. He saw me bring down Neville,
who fell almost at his very side; and he looked to me, and cried, "Weel
done, little Charlie! weel done, my brave man!"
That was the last word I ever heard him say. My brave, worthy, auld
father! He was sae used to ca' me little Charlie when I was young, that
he coudna gie it ower when I grew bigger than him; and he cried to me,
"Weel done, little Charlie! Weel done, my brave man!" I'll never forget
that moment. My honest, kind-hearted father! Ye maun forgie me, sirs,
for taking a hearty greet at this part o' my tale. Mony a ane hae I
ta'en at the same bit.--Ay--he often ca'ed me little Charlie, and he
cried, "Weel done, my brave man!" That was the hindmost word, and I hae
good right to mind it.
The battle thickened, and thickened round us, and we were borne back;
for there was sic a rush made by the English to the rescue, that, an
their captain had been living, they wad hae tramped him to pieces. I
was driven clean stupid, and cared nae ae preen for my life, after I saw
the ranks rush over my father; but the skrae-shankit Laidlaws defendit
me, and did most excellent work. I never saw ony men that thought less
about fleeing or retreating than the Laidlaws. Pell-mell, swap for swap,
was a' that they countit on. I heard Davie o' Craik saying to his
brother, "Take care o' that lang swabble Charlie, and keep by his side.
Deil hae him, gin he be nae better than he looks like." The grim Potts
were mair cunning than rash; and the hard-headed Olivers could be led
but never driven. The Laidlaws were the men for me. Pell-mell, yank for
yank. "Thresh on, Will!" "Ay, here's w'ye, Davie; deil tak the
hindmost!" I hae stood mony a stoure wi' the Laidlaws, and never wished
for better lads--lang-shanks and a' thegither.
But I'm forgetting my tale; for aince I get into the mids o' a battle,
it's no easy getting me out again. I canna tell you a' the feats that
were done that day, especially by the warden. When he saw the great
brulzie in front, he came up with the Scotts, and the Johnstons, and the
Grahams o' Drife,--and hearing that my father had fallen, and that the
English captain was also slain, he took the front himself, and scattered
the English commoners like crows.
When we had thus fairly broke through the centre, we turned to the
right, and drove that division of the army before us till they took
shelter in Jed forest; but seeing the rest, who formed the strongest
wing, marshalling up behind us, we drew off to the hills, and encamped
that night at the Brae of Rule.
There was heavy mourning for the loss of my father, and we buried him
next day at Hassendean. The English were as much exasperated. Dick
Neville, the brother of Sir Robert, took the command, and up Teviot they
came, laying all waste behind them. We durst not engage them again in
close battle, for they were by far too numerous; but we kept hovering
around them, and harrassing them whenever we could get a chance. In
spite of all we could do, they took the town of Hawick, plundered it,
and burnt it to ashes. The warden was neither to haud nor to bind wi'
anger then; and, as he durst not leave the country, nor tine sight o'
them for an hour himself, he sent off Hab Elliot and me, wi' our hunder
and fifty horse, to plunder the castle and lands of Ravensworth, by way
of retaliation.
"Now, Charlie," said he to me at parting, "Mind what the Nevilles hae
done baith to you and me, and neither leave them cow nor ewe, man,
woman, nor bairn, blanket nor sheet, dish nor spoon."
Aweel, aff Habby and I set; he wi' his Elliots, and me wi' my
hard-headed Olivers, my grimy Potts, my skrae-shankit Laidlaws, and auld
Will Nicol,--that was my army, and a gay queer ane it was: I hadna a man
o' my ain name but mysel; for the warden kept them a' about him: He
wadna part wi' the Scotts at no rate. It was clear moonlight, sae we set
off before sun-set and rade a' the night, keeping aye the height between
Tyne and Reid; and at daylight we fand oursels at the place where the
twa Tynes meet. We were terrified for raising the country, and were
obliged to ride out to a little hollow place in a wild moor, and hide
oursels a' the day, where our horses got nothing but a rive o' heather,
but they had plenty o' water, puir things! Habby kept watch himsel, and
let us a' sleep; and there was ae camstary English chap that wad be up
to the tap o' the hill reason or nane, Habby chappit aff his head--he
wasna very sticking that way.
The next morning after that, we gae the castle o' Ravensworth and the
rich domains o' the Nevilles an unco surprise. Habby gaed up by himsel
to the gate, and asked a word o' the porter. The man came snooving out
half sleeping. Habby had him dead, and the keys in his ain hand, in half
a minute. It was a shamefu' morning that; for we killed, and harried,
and burnt a' that came afore us; and Lady Ravensworth was burnt, and her
bairn was trowed to be burnt. That sat sair on my conscience, for she
came to me and beggit her life. I had nae thought o' taking her life;
but I was sae intent on the spulzie, that I lost her again, and never
saw mair o' her. It was rather cruel o' Habby to lock every door when he
set fire to the castle. I saved ae little chap that morning, though I
wasna muckle the better. We were flinging blankets, and sheets, and
thousands o' things out at a large window, when I hears a bairnie
greeting most bitterlie, and aye crying out, "Daddy, daddy! O daddy,
daddy!" "Poor little English brat," says I to mysel, "there's nae daddy
near you." Sae I could nae help rinning into the room to see what kind
o' creature it was; and there lay a fine bonnie callant on the bare
bed-strae, for they had pu'ed the down bed, and blankets, and sheets,
and a' off him; and when he saw me, he held out baith his hands, and
cried, "O daddy, daddy!" I could nae think to leave him to be burnt, sae
I rowed him in some blankets and tossed him out at the window; and when
I lookit out after him to see if he wasna killed, I heard him crying
louder than ever, "Daddy's boy fa'en! Take ye up, take ye up! O daddy,
daddy! take ye up, take ye up!"
When we came to pack up our goods he was still lying sprawling amang the
blankets, and insisting on his daddy taking him up as fervently as
before. I was wae for the poor thing, and didna ken what to do, for I
didna like to be nursing a bairn afore my new warriors. But as luck wad
hae had it, up comes Will Laidlaw o' Craik. Will cared nae what ony body
thought.
"What, lad?" says he to the boy: "What's the matter, billy? What are ye
lying yammering there for? Eh?"
"Daddy's good boy fa'en," says the child; "O take ye up! take ye up!"
"Poor deevil!" says Will, wi' his muckle een wauling till they were like
to come out; "Poor deevil! Indeed and I will take ye up, though I should
get nae mair o' the spoil for my share but yoursel."
Will fauldit a blankit, and rowed the callant carefully up in't like a
web. He didna come weel behand at rowing up a bairn; but he did as he
could, and had the sense to leave the head out, which was a main
concern. Just at that very moment, when Will was at the thrangest, by
comes ane o' the Olivers in a great haste wi' his sword drawn, and it
was a' bloody. Now, thinks I to mysel', the puir bairn's gane; for I saw
what kind o' chap he was that Oliver. Will unluckily had the boy's head
out o' the blanket, and was busy speaking to him without regarding ony
thing else; and ere ever he was aware Oliver heaved his bloody sword,
and was just coming down wi' a swap on the boy's neck, and he wad hae
cuttit it through like a kail castock. Will's e'e caught a glimpse o'
the sword as it was coming down, and with a dash of his elbow he drove
it aside. "Eh? What are ye about, min?" said Will, speaking over his
shoulder, and keeping his body between Oliver's sword and the child.
"Ooh? What are ye about min?" returned the other, mimicking Will's voice
and manner: "Hae ye nought ado but to work on a dirty English paddock
like that? Cut the neck o't."
"Will I, min?" says Laidlaw: "I'll see you d--d first, and a' the
Olivers atween Jed head and Tyot stane--humph? A bonnie trick to come
and meddle wi' me and my bit bairn!"
Oliver went away laughing at Laidlaw, leaving him to manage his nursing
concern as he could.
I had witnessed Will's undaunted bravery, and yet I canna say but I was
as weel pleased wi' this bit kind turn as ought I had seen him do. I
think I see him yet wi' the child in his arms foussomly rowed up in a
blanket, like a web--the head o' the boy out, a great neuk o' the
blanket hinging down to the ground, and Will glowring back at Oliver's
face: "Eh? What are ye about, min? A bonnie story, to come and meddle
wi' me and my bit bairn!" Ha! ha! ha! Honest Laidlaw! I can never forget
him and his bairn. "Cut the neck o't," says the other. "Will I, min?
I'll see you d--d first," says Will. Ha! ha! ha! ha!--But then his look!
that was the best sport ava; wi' his bendit face and muckle great wulcat
een turned o'er his shoulder. "Cut the neck o't," says Oliver. They
that had seen Laidlaw then! ha! ha! ha! "Will I, min?" Ha! ha! ha!
* * * * *
"My son, is there not a time for every thing?" said the friar. "If thou
thinkest at all on our condition and thine own, surely thou wilt refrain
from such a torrent of vain jesting. Remember that the words of thy
mouth are for death or life; for the possession of maiden beauty, and
love, and pleasure; or for the most dismal, and miserable, and wretched
of all fates--to be killed and eaten up of thy brethren, the companions
of thy journey."
"Gude faith, the thing's hardly to be thought of, let be spoken about,"
said Charlie. "But I beg your pardon, callants, I maun get on wi' my
tale; for if I stick it in the middle, ye ken it is a' ower wi' me."
"I wish you would get on with it then," said Tam; "for if ye maun aye
stop to laugh at your ain jests, we'll be a' dead o' hunger or ever the
votes be ta'en. Nane but fools laugh at their ain sports."
"Whisht, whisht, Tam," returned Charlie,--"I hae a gay wide wizen when I
am amang friends, but there are some things that I canna swallow for a'
that--Where was I at? Aye at the sacking o' Ravensworth."
* * * * *
We drave the richest prey that morning that I ever yet saw liftit, if we
had gotten it a' hame. We had thirty horses laden wi' stuff, and other
thirty led anes, besides thirteen score o' good cattle; and we gae the
banks o' the Teme and the Blackburn an unco singe afore we left them. I
was rather against the burning, but Habby wadna be stayed; "Na, na; tit
for tat, Charlie. That will stand for Hawick and Abbotrule."
We drave on, and drave on, as fast as the cattle could gang, and some o'
the heavy soft anes we were obliged to leave behind sair against our
wills. We were terrified for raising the country, for we had sic a far
drive: but luckily the Nevilles had ta'en amaist every man with them in
their expedition into Scotland; and the first time that we hovered was
on Tersit-moor in Northumberland, a little before the break o' day. At
that place there was the strangest thing happened to us that ever
happened to men,--and it was for that that I began my tale.
My heart had been unco sair a' the night wi' thinking about the bonnie
Lady Neville o' Ravensworth; and I had often been sae grieved about her
death, and her bairn's death, that I hardly kend what I was doing. I
thought I saw her kneeling on her knee, and begging of me to spare her
life, and the life o' her child; and then how cruel it was in me to rin
away rummaging up the stair, and lose the opportunity of preserving her.
These thoughts had made my heart wholly inclined to pity, and, as soon
as we lighted, I sought out Will Laidlaw o' Craik, to see if he had
still been able, amang a' the confusion, to preserve the life of the
child. Will had had a great deal o' trouble wi' him, chiefly from his
associates, but he had him still safe an' sound. He had stuffed him in a
horse's pack o' blankets and sheets, _wi' his head out_, and had kept
beside him a' the gate; and now when I found him he had laid the boy
down on the heather to sleep, and had him weel happit up, and Will
himsel was lying streekit beside him. He thought that I wad gibe him
about the business, and tried to waive the subject; but when I told him
how much I was pleased wi' what he had done, he grew rather crouser, and
could speak about naething else but the boy and his little sayings to
him by the way. "Poor little dear soul!" said Will; "I think some body
had flung him o'er the castle wa' in an armfu' claes, and never kend;
and wha kens but he may be the heir o' Ravensworth himsel. He has been
sae miraculously saved that he will surely come to something. But do ye
ken, Charlie, my heart is already sae closely knitted to that bit
helpless bairn, that I wadna see ony ill come ower him for a' the kye on
the Crib-Law."
"Laidlaw, you shall never rue your kindness o' heart and attentions to
that puir misfortunate bairn," quo' I: "The moment that I saw you take
him up, and row him in a blanket, _wi' his head out_, as ye had been
rowing up a wab, I resolved to reward you wi' my hale share o' the
spulzie."
"Never speak about that, Charlie; if we get safe hame wi' every thing
we'll no differ about the spulzie."
"Ha, but Will, your rowing up o' the bairn was a rare scene! ony other
body but you, ye ken, wad hae taken the creature up in their arms and
rowed a blanket about it: but instead o' that you doubled a pair o'
blankets their hale length on the green, laid the bairn across the one
end o' them, and rowed it ower the body, and ower the body, and ower the
body, till ye came to the far end; and it was but ill rowed up after
a'--ha! ha! ha!"
"Hout, Charlie! deil a bit but ye're ower muckle ta'en up about trifles.
I wish ye wad think mair about the perilous situation we are in. Watch a
wee while, and let me get a sleep."
Will then laid his arm over the boy and the hott o' claes, and fell
sound asleep. Our men were a' placed two and three around the hale muir
to guard the cattle, and all were resting on their arms, to be ready to
rush together on any alarm. I was sitting and keeping a good look out
a' round about, and Will he was swuffing and sleeping. Every thing was
quiet, except now and then that the hum of an ox was to be heard which
missed his neighbour, or the eiry whistle o' the moss-plover. It was a
while before the day-sky, and I was just beginning to turn drowsy, when
I thought I saw something white on the muir, about two hundred strides
from me. "St Mary be my buckler!" said I to mysel: "What can you be? It
is surely a flight o' white mist risen out o' the earth, for I see it
moving. If it be a mist fawn, as I dare say it can be naething else, it
has drawn itself up into a form the likest that of a woman of ought ever
I saw." As I was mumbling and speaking this to mysel, I perceived that
it still drew nearer, and that it wasna ane o' the fairy fawns o' mist
whiles to be seen stealing about i' the night-time, but a lady a' clad
in white. It glided athort the moor, and athort the moor, as if it had
been looking for something it had lost; and at last I saw it spring away
from one point to another at a considerable distance, as swift as a
flash o' fire, as if something had startled or offended it. I learned
after that the point from which it fled was the very spot where Habby
Elliot lay, and who at that time was lying in a sound and troubled
sleep. When it again stopped, its motions were very extraordinary,--for
though the morning was dark, there was such a pale and a pure whiteness
about it, that I saw it the better. It was like a streamer o' light, or
the reflection of a starn in the water, that aye in the darkest nights
appears brightest. When it paused at the place I mentioned, it bent its
body backward, its arms were crossed on its breast, and I saw like its
hair streaming in the air behind it. Then it spread both its hands
toward heaven, as in the act of making fervent supplication. From that
point it came straight toward me, after giving a shiver that made all my
een dazzle.
"Will Laidlaw!" cried I, but in a violent whisper below my breath; "Will
Laidlaw o' Craik! for God's sake waken up, and see what this is."
I was sitting, but Will sprang to his feet, and seized his sword.
"Where? where? where? Where is it, Charlie? Where is it, callant?"
whispered he. I pointed to it, but durst not speak. Will rubbed his een
and rubbed his een, and at length perceived it. "I do believe, lad, that
is some hizzy--and a weel dressed ane she is," said he; still speaking
in a whisper, and sitting down close beside me. "What on God's earth can
she be seeking on this waste at sic an untimely hour?" I durst hardly
draw my breath, let be to answer him; and sae he continued, "I think it
wad hae been as decent-like an she had lain still in her bed rather as
comed raiking out amang a wheen wild men on sic a wild height. Oho! I'll
wager my neck it is some spy in disguise."
She was by this time within ten paces o' us, and we both sat still in
breathless suspense till she came close to us. I thought I had seen the
face before, but couldna tell where, till she kneeled on one knee at my
feet, crossed her hands, and looked me in the face with the most piteous
expression of countenance. Then I saw it was the lady o' Ravensworth,
and in the very posture that I had seen her for the first and last time.
Yet there was no anger in her face; it seemed merely a look of
supplication; and at length she touched her lips three times, as an
intimation that she wished to speak and could not. As for me, my mouth
was sealed; and that I might see nae mair than I had seen, I threw mysel
agroof, wi' my face to the ground, and held by the heather firmly wi'
baith my hands.
Honest Will had nae suspicions o' ony thing beyond nature; and at length
he says, "What are you wanting wi' us, Madam, that ye're making a' thae
murgeons?"
"You do not know me," returned she, "but that young warrior beside you
does. He has been guilty of a neglect that he will rue till the day of
his death. But, for another deed of mercy that you and he have done,
your fates are averted, and your heads shall be covered in the hour of
danger, which is fast approaching. You have saved a child from the
devouring flames;--if you dare to wrong a hair of that child's
head, how dreadful will be your doom! There is a terrible hour
approaching;--look at his breast that you may know him again, for I
cannot see the fate of the day. But if you would thrive on earth and be
admitted into heaven, guard and preserve that dear child--That child is
mine--"
"Say nae mair, honest woman," says Will, perfectly undismayed, "an the
child be yours you're perfectly welcome to him. It was to save his bit
innocent life that I brought him away, and no for ony greed o' other
folks bairns. I kendna wha was aught him, but sin he be yours I'll
deliver him safe into your hands. Take care an' no let him get cauld,
for the morning air is no gude for a bairn."
So saying, Will howked the boy out o' the mids o' a great heap o' claes,
rowed him up as weel as he could, and then said, after two or three
sobs, "I like ill to part wi' him, but a mother's aye a mother." Then he
kissed him, and added, "Fare-ye weel, my wee man! You and I will may-be
never meet again; but, whether or no, you will be nae the waur o' a
trooper's blessing. An ye be spared ye'll be a man when auld Will
Laidlaw's head is laid i' the grave. Hae, honest woman, there's your
son, and God bless you baith!"
She bent her body over him in the most affectionate way, and stretched
her arms as if to embrace him, but she neither touched him nor any part
of Laidlaw's claes. The boy had awakened, and when Will held him out to
give him up to his mother, he cried out, "No-no-no-no. No go ty'e, no go
t'ye. Daddy's boy feared, daddy's boy feared."
"Gude faith, sae ye may, my man! thinks I to mysel, "an ye kend about a'
this as weel as I do!"
I saw naething that was passing, for I was lying close on my face, and
hinging by the heather; but I heard a that was said, and Will tauld me
the rest afterwards. He said, she made the sign of the cross above her
child's breast, then over his own head, as he stooped forward with him
in his arms. Then she glided aside, and made the cross over my head and
shoulders, and it was heaven's grace that I didna ken, else I wad hae
swarfed away. Last of all, she again bent herself over her child, and
stretched out her arms on each side of him; then, leaning herself back
on the air, she arose gently from the ground, and sailed away through
the dim shades of the morning toward the verge of the heaven.
I wondered what was asteer then, for I heard Will crying on the Virgin
Mary to preserve him, and rhaming o'er the names o' a' the saints he had
ever heard of; and at length he gae a great gluther, like a man
drowning, and fell down wi' sic a dunt he gart a' the moss shake again.
The bairn screamed and grat; and I didna ken what to do, for I durstna
look up for fear o' seeing the ghost; till at length I heard that the
rest of the sentinels had caught the alarm, and were passing the
watch-word frae ane to another, and then I ventured to set up my head.
But, gude and gracious, sic a grip as I did haud by the heather!
I took up the child, covered him with my cloak, and soothed him; and
the poor little harassed thing hid his face in my bosom. Will lay
quivering and struggling like ane in a dream, or under the influence of
the night-mare; and, after I had rolled him three times over, he awoke
in the most horrid consternation. "Charlie, where are ye? Speak to me,
Charlie, and tell me where I am." Then a whole string o' saints and
angels were a' invoked, one after another, ower and ower again. "Mercy
on us, Charlie! I hae had sic a dream as never mortal man had; and a'
sae plain and sae particular, I could amaist swear it was real. What do
ye think, Charlie? Didna this bairn's mother come to me in my sleep? and
she says to me, 'That bairn's mine.'--Na, that wasna what she said
first. 'Ye dinna ken me,' says she." And then Will began and told me all
that I had heard pass between them before, and all that I had seen, and
some part that I had not seen; but a' that I could do, I couldna
persuade him that it wasna a dream. And it was better it was sae; for if
he had kend and believed that he had conversed with a spirit, it wad
hae put him daft. It pat me clean out o' my judgment; and for that day,
and mony a day and night after, I kend nae mair what I was doing than
ane dreaming, and remembered nae mair what I had been doing than if I
had been asleep all the time. I can therefore gie but a puir and a lame
account o' what followed, for it is maistly from hearsay, although I was
tauld that I bure a principal hand in the fray.
We started at the scraigh o' day, and drove on. There were always four
or five light horsemen, well mounted, who rode before our array to see
if the coast was clear; and as we went round the head of the Gowan Burn,
about mid-day, ane o' these came galloping back, and told us that the
English were awaiting us at the fords of Keilder, with an army of a
thousand horse.
"Aha!" quo' Habby Elliot! "I thought we warna to get hame this way. We
hae just twa choices, callants, either to fight or flee."
There was not a man in all our little army that could think of
scampering off for bare life, and leaving such a prey behind him; so,
with one assent, we rode forward in a body to the brow of the hill that
overlooks the fords of Keilder. The English were stationed on a rising
ground to the west of the river, and that being passable only by one
ford, which was very rough, we could not attack them without the
certainty of being cut to pieces; so we kept our station on the steep
brae over against them, and sent some few of our oldest and weakliest
men to be moving the prey out toward Keilder-head.
We calculated the English to be about five hundred; but neither durst
they cross the ford to come to us. They sent a few flights of arrows
among our men, which we regarded very little, and determined, if
possible, to keep them at bay there till our rich prey had crossed the
border fell. But just at the fall of the evening, to our great surprise,
the English rushed at once into the ford, with loud and reiterated
shouts; and scarcely had we begun to advance down the steep to meet
them, when we were attacked by another body of horsemen behind.
These men were led by a great priest whose name was Bishop Boldone, but
who was always called Bloody-Sark; and at the very first encounter Hab
Elliot rushed among the English ranks and slew the Bishop with his own
hand at the first blow. But it cost Habby dear, for he was cut down in
endeavouring to retreat, and fell under a dozen of spears. In short, our
small band, being inclosed between two stronger bodies, was literally
hewed in pieces, but not before they had slain a great number of our
enemies. Will Laidlaw and I fought side by side; and though enclosed in
the very middle of our foes, we cut our way through, and escaped without
a wound, and with short pursuit.
Our prey was gone. We saw a great part of them scattered on the hills,
and heard them lowing, as they returned toward their native pastures.
Our drivers, having watched the fate of the day, made their escape when
they saw us surrounded, abandoning the spoil. We two fled in silence
toward the north-east, and could not even get time to look for the
child, in whom we were both so much interested. We had lost our well
earned prey; we had lost our friends and companions in arms, and we had
lost our honour by suffering ourselves to be surprised by the ambush
behind; yet we both felt as if the loss of the child sat heavier on our
hearts than all. There was something so mysterious in our connection
with him, that it could not fail making a deep impression on our minds.
The vision that we had seen, and the promise that had been made to
us,--that "for what we had done our heads should be shielded in the day
of battle,"--soon recurred to us, and we both agreed that our escape was
miraculous, and perfectly unaccountable to ourselves. There were not two
in the battle who exposed themselves more, and Laidlaw averred that he
sometimes saw twenty weapons raised against us at once, and that still,
as we approached, the bearers of them seemed to lose the power of
striking. It was no wonder that we were impressed with deep awe, nor
that we both wished it had been in our power to have preserved the boy,
over whose life there seemed to be some good guardian spirit permitted
or appointed to watch. Our conversation was all about him. There had
been a nest made for him in a pack of clothes. Laidlaw had led the horse
himself all the way, and the child had chatted to him, till the alarm
was given that we were waylaid, and he had then given the horse in
charge to one of the drivers, with particular injunctions to take care
of the child; but he could not even remember who that driver was. I came
up immediately after, and charged the lad to take care of the child;
and, in the hearing of several of my followers, said that I would rather
they lost the whole drove than that ought should happen to him. But now
we had lost him; we had lost all but our horses and our swords.
We jogged on all the night in melancholy mood, crossed the Border, and
then turned westward toward the Cowd-Peel, which we reached about
sun-rise. A little after the break of day, as we were coming through a
hollow of the height, called the Spretty-Grain, we perceived something
before us that appeared to be moving, and of a prodigious bulk, which,
after some hesitation we made up to, and found that the phenomenon
consisted of eight horses, all well loaden, and every one with its head
yerked to the tail of the one before him; and all these were driven by
one yeoman on horseback, who rode beside them with a long goad in his
hand.
We soon overtook and examined him; and never was I so much astonished in
my life as when I found it was my own henchman auld Will Nicol. He was
very dour and shy of communication at first.
"Will Nicol! Is it you?" said I. "How in the name of wonder did you
escape?"
"Humph! I think I may as weel speir that question at you: Humph!" says
Will.
"I thought you had fallen with the rest in the battle," said I.
"Humph! but I'm here," says Will. "And I think there's mae here nor me:
humph! and I rather think I hae brought mair wi' me nor some fock:
humph! I'm comed as fu' handit as some fock, I think. Humph!"
"But, Will, were you in the engagement?"
"What need ye speir that? humph! Where was I else but in the
engagement?"
"And did you stay till it was over?"
"Humph! I stayed lang aneuch, I think! humph! It is needless to wait
ower lang on a seen bad job. Humph!"
But the real truth of the story was, that instead of staying till the
battle was ower, Will didna stay till it began, nor near that time. He
was an auld-farrant chap Will, and had a great deal o' foresight; and
when he saw us begin to stop, and the English standing peaceably before
us, _herding us_, as he ca'ed it, he was sure there were more enemies
coming up behind.
"Will, if I were sure that ye deserted our cause, and came off before
the engagement began," said I, "although I have not a man left that I
ken o', but Will o' Craik and yoursel, may I be a coward and a traitor
if I wadna cut you down i' the place where you stand."
Will had nothing to say for himself but "Humph! humph!" and he scratched
his head and grumbled. I was quite indignant at the old fellow, and was
getting into a greater rage than ever I hae been in at a friend sinsyne,
when all at once I heard a weak tremulous voice say, "Daddy's boy cold."
"Aih-hay-hay!" shouted Will Laidlaw, as loud as he could yell: "Hilloa,
hilloa, hilloa!"--and he sprang first on the back of his own horse with
his feet, and from that he darted upon one of those that carried the
packs. When I rode up he was sitting on the rumple o' the beast, hugging
the child, that he had deemed lost, in his bosom, kissing him, and
exclaiming,--"Aih, my man! my dear man, are ye safe? are ye safe? God
bless auld Will Nicol! God bless auld Will Nicol!"
It was impossible for two down-cast and broken-hearted warriors to be
more uplifted at any incident than Will Laidlaw and I were, at
discovering that the boy was safe; and even auld Will Nicol began to
recover some confidence.--"I heard you giving a chap some charges about
him, that I kend weel caredna if his head were off,--od, he was ane o'
the hard-headed Olivers. What cares an Oliver for a man's life, or a
bairn's either?--Sae I thinks, sin my young master has ta'en a liking
for the bairn, I's e'en gang and look after him. It is a good sign of a
young warrior to like to save women and bairns. Sae I gangs, and sae I
thinks sin I is bringing away this wee chap out o' danger, I may as weel
bring something wi' me as naething; sae I brings aught o' the best
horses, and the best laden anes that I could wale, and bound for the
Border. A fashous job I hae had wi' them a' night."
It is needless to tell how frankly auld Will was forgiven.
The Cowd-Peel being a rallying point on all Border raides, we stayed
there a whole day and a night, in hopes that some part of our men wad
come up; but out of all my fifty men there were none appeared but three
of the Potts. The hard-headed Olivers had been slain to a man, and all
the Laidlaws save my brave companion. Out of ninety valiant Elliots
there were only twelve remaining, and some of these were of the drivers.
There were fifty-seven Scots, and nearly as many English, with
Bloody-Sark at their head, buried in one cairn; and, for the sake of the
Bishop, the English raised a heap of stones above them as huge as an
abbey church, which will be seen on the height above the ford of Keilder
for ever.
Laidlaw slept that night in a good bed with the boy in his arms, for we
had no lack of the finest blankets and sheets; and that night the white
lady appeared to him again, claiming her child, yet still declining to
accept of him, and promising Will protection on earth and a reward in
heaven if he continued to guard and protect that boy. Whether this was
in a dream or not, Laidlaw could not be positive; but he rather inclined
to think he was wide awake, for he remembered of speaking to her
audibly. Among other things, she asked him if he knew it was the child
that had slept by him on the waste the night before the battle. Will
said he was sure. She asked him how. He answered, that "unless the
fairies had changed him it could nae be ony other."
"But the fairies or some one else may change him," said she. "You may be
separated amid the confusion and uproar now on the Border; and when you
meet again, you may not be able to prove the identity of my child. I
bade you the other night examine his bosom, but you neglected to do so.
If you had, you would there have found the spur of Ravensworth,
testifying his lineage and descent to all the world."
Will came to me in a great ferment the next day, and told me of all
this. I had heard the same words the night before the battle, but had
quite forgot them among other matters, and wist as little what they
meant as Will did.
"I hae lookit a' his bits o' claes, and graepit them a'," said he; "but
I can find nae spur. How could there be a spur about a nakit bairn? It
is may be in amang the blankets."
"It is perhaps some private mark," said I. "Let us examine the child's
body very narrowly."
On doing so we found a slight mark on his breast, that seemed to have
been made by applying a hot iron at some time previous, and it was
exactly in the form of a V with the wrang end uppermost. So we both
concluded that this was a private mark of some family, that neither
fairies nor men kend o', and that it was perhaps a stamp that keepit
them a' away.
* * * * *
"It is the stamp of the heirs lineal of the house of Neville," said the
friar; "I have impressed it with my own hand, after many masses and Ave
Marias said. What became of that child? or whither is he gone? I pray
thee to inform us in the words of truth not lengthened out."
* * * * *
Alas, I cannot tell! He was visited by the white lady of Ravensworth
every night, and when the gloaming came she would be seen hovering on
the skirts of the wood near to him. I grew that I durstna sleep a night
within ten miles o' him, and Will Laidlaw turned clean bumbazed about
the thing; sae we were obliged to send him to board wi' auld Lady
Lawder, her that was put out o' the convent for witchery and the ill
arts. She cared nought about spirits, and conversed wi' the white lady
as she had been her door neighbour; and it was said there were strange
mysterious sayings past between them. She book-learned the boy,
pen-learned the boy, and learned him mony other things foreby that were
thought to be nae better than they should hae been. She chauntit sangs
til him, and tauld him tales, and, there was little doubt, meant to
breed him up to be a terrible enchanter; but afore that could be
effeckit, the white lady came and took him away a' thegither.
From that day he has never been seen or heard of in this world, neither
as boy nor man. And now, sirs, I find that my story's worn to a head
hair, and that I maun cut it short. So it is done, and that's an end
til't.