OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR
When we came to the camping-place it was almost deserted. The people
had all gone to the fair, and nothing was to be seen save the baggage
and the children. The morning had grown wilder and a thin snow was
falling, the earnest of a storm. The mist was drawing closer and
creeping over the boglands. I minded an old saying of Tam Todd's,
"Rouk's snaw's wraith," and I looked for a wild storm with gladness, for
it would keep the dragoon gentry at home and prohibit their ill-doing.
But just in front at the border of the fog and at the extremity of the
dry land, the captain saw something which made him draw up his horse
sharply and stare. Then he turned to Matthew, and I saw that his face
was flushed. "Ride a' your pith, man," he said, "ride like the wind to
the toun, and bid our folk hurry back. Nae words and be off." And the
obedient son galloped away to do his bidding.
He gripped me by the arm and pulled me to the side. "Ye've guid een,"
he said. "D'ye see that ower by the laigh trees?" I looked and looked
again and saw nothing.
"Maybe no," he said, "ye haena gipsy een; but in half an' oor we'll a'
ken what it means. It's the Ruthvens wi' the Yerl o' Hell. I ken by
their red-stripit breeks and their lang scythe-sticks. Ye maun ken that
for lang we've had a bluid-feud wi' that clan, for the Baillies are aye
gentrice and hae nae trokins wi' sic blaggard tinklers. We've focht
them yince and twice and aye gotten the better, and noo I hear that
little Will Ruthven, that's him that they ca' the Yerl o' Hell for his
deevilry, has sworn to fecht us till there's no a Baillie left to keep
up the name. And noo they've come. 'Faith there'll be guid bluid spilt
afore thae wratches learn their lesson."
The news struck me with vast astonishment and a little dismay. I had
often longed to see a battle and now I was to be gratified. But what a
battle! A fight between two bloodthirsty gipsy clans, both as wild as
peat-reek, and armed with no more becoming weapons than bludgeons,
cutlasses, and scythe-blades. More, the event would place me in a hard
position. I could not fight. It would be too absurd for words that I
should be mixed up in their mellays. But the man at my side expected me
to aid him. I owed my life to him, and with these folk gratitude is
reckoned one of the first of the virtues. To refuse William Baillie my
help would be to offer him the deepest unkindness. Yet I dismissed the
thought at once as preposterous. I could no more join the fight than I
could engage in a pothouse or stable brawl. There was nothing for it
but to keep back and watch the thing as a silent spectator.
In a little I began to see the band. It would number, as I guessed,
some hundred and ten, with women and children. The captain, as he
looked, grew fierce with excitement. His dark eyes blazed, and his brow
and cheeks were crimson. Ever and anon he looked anxiously in the
direction of the town, waiting for the help which was to come. As the
foe came nearer he began to point me out the leaders. "There's Muckle
Will," he cried, "him wi' the lang bare shanks, like the trams o' a
cairt. He's the strongest and langest man frae the Forth to Berwick.
My God, but it'll be a braw fellow that can stand afore him. And
there's Kennedy himsel', that sonsy licht-coloured man. They say he's
the best wi' the sma'-sword in a' Nithsdale, but 'faith, he's me to
reckon wi' the day. And there's that bluidy deil, Jean Ruthven, whae
wad fecht ony man in braid Scotland for a pund o' 'oo'. She's as guid
as a man, and they say has been the death o' mair folk than the Yerl
himsel'. But here come our ain men. Come on, Rob and Wat, and you,
Mathy, gang wide to the right wi' some. It's a great day _this_. Nae
wee cock-fecht, but a muckle lang deidly battle." And the man's face
was filled with fierce joy.
Meanwhile both the forces had taken up their position opposing one
another, and such a babel of tinkler yells arose that I was deafened.
Each side had their war-cry, and, in addition, the women and children
screamed the most horrible curses and insults against the enemy. Yet
the battle was not arrayed in haphazard fashion, but rather with some
show of military skill. The stronger and bigger men of the clan with
the captain himself were in the middle. On the right and left were
their sons, with a more mixed force, and below all the women were drawn
up like harpies, looking well-nigh as fierce and formidable as the men.
"You'll come to the front wi' me, Maister Burnet," said the captain.
"Ye're a guid man o' your hands and we'll need a' we can get i' the
middle."
"No," said I, "I cannot."
"Why?" he asked, looking at me darkly.
"Tut, this is mere foolery. You would not have me meddling in such a
fray?"
"You think we're no worthy for you to fecht wi'," he said, quietly, "we,
that are as guid as the best gentlemen i' the land, and have saved your
life for ye, Master John Burnet. Weel, let it be. I didna think ye wad
hae dune it." Then the tinker blood came out. "Maybe you're feared,"
said he, with an ugly smile.
I turned away and made no answer; indeed, I could trust myself to make
none. I was bitterly angry and unhappy. All my misfortunes had drawn
to a point in that moment. I had lost everything. A fatal mischance
seemed to pursue me. Now I had mortally offended the man who had saved
my life, and my outlook was drear enough.
I had been looking the other way for a second, and when I turned again
the fray had begun. The Earl, with a cutlass, had engaged the captain,
and the wings, if one may call them by so fine a word, had met and
mingled in confusion. But still it was not a general mellay, but rather
a duel between the two principal combatants. The little man with the
short sword showed wondrous agility, and leaped and twisted like a
tumbler at a fair. As for the Baillie, he had naught to do but keep him
at a distance, for he was both better armed and better skilled. As he
fought he let his eye wander to the others and directed them with his
voice. "Come up, Mathy lad," he would cry. "Stand weel into them, and
dinna fear the lasses." Then as he saw one of his own side creeping
behind the Earl to strike a back blow, he roared with anger and bade him
keep off. "Let the man be," he cried. "Is't no eneuch to hae to fecht
wi' blaggards that ye maun be blaggards yoursel'?"
But in a little the crowd closed round them and they had less room for
play. Then began a grim and deadly fight. The townspeople, at the word
of the tinkers fighting, had left the fair and come out in a crowd to
witness it. It was a sight such as scarce a man may see twice in his
lifetime. The mist rolled low and thick, and in the dim light the wild,
dark faces and whirling weapons seemed almost monstrous. Now that the
death had begun there was little shouting; nothing was heard save the
rattle of the cutlasses, and a sort of sighing as blows were given and
received. The bolder of the women and boys had taken their place, and
at the back the little children and young girls looked on with the
strangest composure. I grew wild with excitement, and could scarce keep
from yelling my encouragements or my warnings; but these had no thought
of uttering a word. Had there been a cloud of smoke or smell of powder
it would have seemed decent, but this quietness and clearness jarred on
me terribly. Moreover, the weapons they fought with were rude, but
powerful to inflict deep wounds, being all clubs and short swords and
scythe-blades fixed on poles. Soon I saw ghastly cuts on the faces of
the foremost and blood-splashes on brow and cheek. Had there been
horses it would not have seemed so cruel, for there would have been the
rush and trample, the hot excitement of the charge and the recoil. But
in the quiet, fierce conflict on foot there seemed nothing but murder
and horror.
At first the battle was fought in a little space, and both sides stood
compact. But soon it widened, and the wings straggled out almost to the
edge of the bog-water. The timid onlookers fled as from the plague, and
I, in my station in the back, was in doubts whether I should bide still
or no. But in front of me were the girls and children, and I thought if
I could do naught else I might bide still and see to them. For the
horns of the Ruthven's company (which was far the larger) threatened to
enclose the Baillies, and cut off their retreat. Meantime the mist had
come down still closer and had given that decent covering which one
desires in a bloody fray. I could scarce see the front ranks of our
opponents, and all I could make out of my friends was the captain's
bright sword glinting as he raised it to the cut.
But that soon happened which I had feared. For the Ruthvens, enclosing
our wings, had all but surrounded us, since the captain had put the
weaker there and left all the more valiant for the centre. Almost before
I knew I saw one and another great gipsy rush around and make towards
the girls who had not joined the battle. In that moment I saw the
bravest actions which it has ever been my lot to see. For these slim,
dark-haired maids drew knives and stood before their assailants, as
stout-hearted as any soldiers of the King's guard. The children raised
a great cry and huddled close to one another. One evil-looking fellow
flung a knife and pierced a girl's arm.... It was too much for me. All
my good resolutions went to the wind, and I forgot my pride in my anger.
With a choking cry I drew my sword and rushed for him.
After that I know not well what happened. I was borne back by numbers,
then I forced my way forward, then back I fell again. At first I fought
calmly, and more from a perverted feeling of duty than any lust of
battle. But soon a tinker knife scratched my cheek, and a tinker
bludgeon rattled sorely against my head. Then I grew very hot and
angry. I saw all around me a crowd of fierce faces and gleaming knives,
and I remember naught save that I hurled myself onward, sword in hand,
hewing and slashing like a devil incarnate. I had never drawn blade in
overmastering passion before, and could scarce have thought myself
capable of such madness as then possessed me. The wild moss-trooping
blood, which I had heired from generations of robber lords, stood me in
good stead. A reckless joy of fight took me. I must have seemed more
frantic than the gipsies themselves.
At last, I know not how, I found my way to the very front rank. I had
been down often, and blood was flowing freely from little flesh wounds,
but as yet I was unscathed. There I saw William Baillie laying about
him manfully, though sore wounded in the shoulder. When he saw me he
gave me a cry of welcome. "Come on," he cried, "I kenned ye wad think
better o't. We've muckle need o' a guid man the noo." And he spoke
truth, for anything more fierce and awesome than the enemy I have never
seen. The Earl of Hell was mangled almost to death, especially in the
legs and thighs. The flesh was clean cut from the bone of one of his
legs, and hung down over the ankles, till a man grew sick at the sight.
But he was whole compared with his daughter, Jean Ruthven, who was the
chief's wife. Above and below her bare breasts she was cut to the bone,
and so deep were the gashes that the movement of her lungs, as she
breathed, showed between the ribs. The look of the thing made me ill
with horror. I felt giddy, and almost swooned; and yet, though white as
death, she fought as undauntedly as ever. I shunned the sight, and
strove to engage her husband alone, the great fair-haired man, who, with
no weapon but a broken cutlass, had cleared all around him. I thrust at
him once and again and could get no nearer for the swing of his mighty
arms. Then the press behind, caused I suppose by the Ruthvens at the
back, drove me forward, and there was nothing for it but to grapple with
him. Our weapons were forced from our hands in the throng, and, with
desperate energy, we clutched one another. I leaped and gripped him by
the neck, and the next instant we were both down, and a great,
suffocating wave of men pressed over us. I felt my breath stop, and yet
I kept my grip and drew him closer. All was blackness around, and even
as I clutched I felt a sharp thrill of agony through my frame, which
seemed to tear the life from my heart, and I was lost to all.