The Castle of Dunstaffnage
Bruce's party were now more than ever straitened for provisions,
since they had to depend almost entirely upon such fish as they
might catch, as it was dangerous to stray far away in pursuit of
deer. Archie, however, with his bow and arrows ventured several
times to go hunting in order to relieve the sad condition of the
ladies, and succeeded two or three times in bringing a deer home
with him.
He had one day ventured much further away than usual. He had not
succeeded in finding a stag, and the ladies had for more than a
week subsisted entirely on fish. He therefore determined to continue
the search, however long, until he found one. He had crossed several
wooded hills, and was, he knew, leagues away from the point where
he had left his party, when, suddenly emerging from a wood, he came
upon a road just at the moment when a party some twenty strong of
wild clansmen were traversing it. On a palfrey in their centre was
a young lady whom they were apparently escorting. They were but
twenty yards away when he emerged from the wood, and on seeing him
they drew their claymores and rushed upon him. Perceiving that
flight from these swift footed mountaineers would be impossible,
Archie threw down his bow and arrows, and, drawing his sword, placed
his back against a tree, and prepared to defend himself until the
last.
Parrying the blows of the first two who arrived he stretched them
dead upon the ground, and was then at once attacked by the whole of
the party together. Two more of his assailants fell by his sword;
but he must have been soon overpowered and slain, when the young
lady, whose cries to her followers to cease had been unheeded in
the din of the conflict, spurred her palfrey forward and broke into
the ring gathered round Archie.
The clansmen drew back a pace, and Archie lowered his sword.
"Desist," she cried to the former in a tone of command, "or my uncle
Alexander will make you rue the day when you disobeyed my orders.
I will answer for this young knight. And now, sir," she said,
turning to Archie, "do you surrender your sword to me, and yield
yourself up a prisoner. Further resistance would be madness; you
have done too much harm already. I promise you your life if you
will make no further resistance."
"Then, lady," Archie replied, handing his sword to her, "I willingly
yield myself your prisoner, and thank you for saving my life from
the hands of your savage followers."
The young lady touched the hilt of his sword, and motioned him to
replace it in its scabbard.
"You must accompany me," she said, "to the abode of my uncle Alexander
MacDougall. I would," she continued, as, with Archie walking beside
her palfrey, while the Highlanders, with sullen looks, kept close
behind, muttering angrily to themselves at having been cheated by
the young lady of their vengeance upon the man who had slain four
of their number, "that I could set you at liberty, but my authority
over my uncle's clansmen does not extend so far; and did I bid them
let you go free they would assuredly disobey me. You are, as I
can see by your attire, one of the Bruce's followers, for no other
knight could be found wandering alone through these woods."
"Yes, lady," Archie said, "I am Sir Archibald Forbes, one of the
few followers of the King of Scotland."
The lady gave a sudden start when Archie mentioned his name, and
for some little time did not speak again.
"I would," she said at last in a low voice, "that you had been
any other, seeing that Alexander MacDougall has a double cause of
enmity against you--firstly, as being a follower of Bruce, who
slew his kinsman Comyn, and who has done but lately great harm to
himself and his clansmen; secondly, as having dispossessed Allan
Kerr, who is also his relative, of his lands and castle. My uncle
is a man of violent passions, and"--she hesitated.
"And he may not, you think," Archie went on, "respect your promise
for my life. If that be so, lady--and from what I have heard of
Alexander MacDougall it is like enough--I beg you to give me back
my surrender, for I would rather die here, sword in hand, than be
put to death in cold blood in the castle of Dunstaffnage."
"No," the lady said, "that cannot be. Think you I could see you
butchered before mine eyes after having once surrendered yourself
to me? No, sir. I beseech you act not so rashly--that were certain
death; and I trust that my uncle, hostile as he may be against you,
will not inflict such dishonour upon me as to break the pledge I
have given for your safety."
Archie thought from what he had heard of the MacDougall that his
chance was a very slight one. Still, as the young ever cling to hope,
and as he would assuredly be slain by the clansmen, he thought it
better to take the chance, small as it was, and so continued his
march by the side of his captor's palfrey.
After two hours' journey they neared the castle of Alexander
of Lorne. Archie could not repress a thrill of apprehension as he
looked at the grim fortress and thought of the character of its
lord; but his bearing showed no fear, as, conversing with the young
lady, he approached the entrance. The gate was thrown open, and
Alexander of Lorne himself issued out with a number of retainers.
"Ah! Marjory!" he said, "I am glad to see your bonny face at
Dunstaffnage. It is three months since you left us, and the time
has gone slowly; the very dogs have been pining for your voice.
But who have we here?" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon Archie.
"It is a wandering knight, uncle," Marjory said lightly, "whom
I captured in the forest on my way hither. He fought valiantly
against Murdoch and your followers, but at last he surrendered to
me on my giving him my pledge that his life should be safe, and
that he should be treated honourably. Such a pledge I am sure,
uncle," she spoke earnestly now, "you will respect."
Alexander MacDougall's brow was as black as night, and he spoke in
Gaelic with his followers.
"What!" he said angrily to the girl; "he has killed four of my
men, and is doubtless one of Bruce's party who slipped through my
fingers the other day and killed so many of my kinsmen and vassals.
You have taken too much upon yourself, Marjory. It is not by you
that he has been made captive, but by my men, and you had no power
to give such promise as you have made. Who is this young springall?"
"I am Sir Archibald Forbes," Archie said proudly--"a name which
may have reached you even here."
"Archibald Forbes!" exclaimed MacDougall furiously. "What! the
enemy and despoiler of the Kerrs! Had you a hundred lives you
should die. Didst know this, Marjory?" he said furiously to the
girl. "Didst know who this young adventurer was when you asked his
life of me?"
"I did, uncle," the girl said fearlessly. "I did not know his name
when he surrendered to me, and afterwards, when he told me, what
could I do? I had given my promise, and I renewed it; and I trust,
dear uncle, that you will respect and not bring dishonour upon it."
"Dishonour!" MacDougall said savagely; "the girl has lost her senses.
I tell you he should die if every woman in Scotland had given her
promise for his life. Away with him!" he said to his retainers;
"take him to the chamber at the top of the tower; I will give him
till tomorrow to prepare for death, for by all the saints I swear
he shall hang at daybreak. As to you, girl, go to your chamber,
and let me not see your face again till this matter is concluded.
Methinks a madness must have fallen upon you that you should thus
venture to lift your voice for a Forbes."
The girl burst into tears as Archie was led away. His guards took
him to the upper chamber in a turret, a little room of some seven
feet in diameter, and there, having deprived him of his arms, they
left him, barring and bolting the massive oaken door behind them.
Archie had no hope whatever that Alexander MacDougall would change
his mind, and felt certain that the following dawn would be his
last. Of escape there was no possibility; the door was solid and
massive, the window a mere narrow loophole for archers, two or
three inches wide; and even had he time to enlarge the opening he
would be no nearer freedom, for the moat lay full eighty feet below.
"I would I had died sword in hand!" he said bitterly; "then it
would have been over in a moment."
Then he thought of the girl to whom he had surrendered his sword.
"It was a sweet face and a bright one," he said; "a fairer and
brighter I never saw. It is strange that I should meet her now
only when I am about to die." Then he thought of the agony which
his mother would feel at the news of his death and at the extinction
of their race. Sadly he paced up and down his narrow cell till
night fell. None took the trouble to bring him food--considering,
doubtless, that he might well fast till morning. When it became
dark he lay down on the hard stone, and, with his arm under his head
was soon asleep--his last determination being that if possible
he would snatch a sword or dagger from the hand of those who came
to take him to execution, and so die fighting; or if that were
impossible, he would try to burst from them and to end his life by
a leap from the turret.
He was awakened by a slight noise at the door, and sprang to his
feet instantly, believing that day was at hand and his hour had
come. To his surprise a voice, speaking scarcely above a whisper,
said:
"Hush! my son, make no noise; I am here as a friend." Then the
door closed, and Archie's visitor produced a lighted lantern from
the folds of his garments, and Archie saw that a priest stood before
him.
"I thank you, father," he said gratefully; "you have doubtless come
to shrive me, and I would gladly listen to your ministrations. I
would fain intrust you, too, with a message to my mother if you
will take it for me; and I would fain also that you told the Lady
Marjory that she must not grieve for my death, or feel that she is
in any way dishonoured by it, seeing that she strove to her utmost
to keep her promise, and is in no way to blame that her uncle has
overriden her."
"You can even give her your message yourself, sir knight," the
priest said, "seeing that the wilful girl has herself accompanied
me hither."
Thus saying, he stepped aside, and Archie perceived, standing
behind the priest, a figure who, being in deep shadow, he had not
hitherto seen. She came timidly forward, and Archie, bending on
one knee, took the hand she held out and kissed it.
"Lady," he said, "you have heard my message; blame not yourself,
I beseech you, for my death. Remember that after all you have
lengthened my life and not shortened it, seeing that but for your
interference I must have been slain as I stood, by your followers.
It was kind and good of you thus to come to bid me farewell."
"But I have not come to bid you farewell. Tell him, good Father
Anselm, our purpose here."
"'Tis a mad brain business," the priest said, shrugging his shoulders;
"and, priest though I am, I shall not care to meet MacDougall in
the morning. However, since this wilful girl wills it, what can I
do? I have been her instructor since she was a child; and instead
of being a docile and obedient pupil, she has been a tyrannical
master to me; and I have been so accustomed to do her will in all
things that I cannot say her nay now. I held out as long as I could;
but what can a poor priest do against sobs and tears? So at last
I have given in and consented to risk the MacDougall's anger, to
bring smiles into her face again. I have tried in vain to persuade
her that since it is the chief's doing, your death will bring no
dishonour upon her. I have offered to absolve her from the promise,
and if she has not faith in my power to do so, to write to the
pope himself and ask for his absolution for any breach that there
may be; but I might as well have spoken to the wind. When a young
lady makes up her mind, stone walls are less difficult to move; so
you see here we are. Wound round my waist are a hundred feet of
stout rope, with knots tied three feet apart. We have only now to
ascend the stairs to the platform above and fix the rope, and in
an hour you will be far away among the woods."
Archie's heart bounded with joy with the hope of life and freedom;
but he said quietly, "I thank you, dear lady, with all my heart for
your goodness; but I could not accept life at the cost of bringing
your uncle's anger upon you."
"You need not fear for that," the girl replied. "My uncle is
passionate and headstrong--unforgiving to his foes or those he
deems so, but affectionate to those he loves. I have always been his
pet; and though, doubtless, his anger will be hot just at first,
it will pass away after a time. Let no scruple trouble you on that
score; and I would rather put up with a hundred beatings than live
with the knowledge that one of Scotland's bravest knights came to
his end by a breach of my promise. Though my uncle and all my people
side with the English, yet do not I; and I think the good father
here, though from prudence he says but little, is a true Scotsman
also. I have heard of your name from childhood as the companion
and friend of Wallace, and as one of the champions of our country;
and though by blood I ought to hate you, my feelings have been very
different. But now stand talking no longer; the castle is sound
asleep, but I tremble lest some mischance should mar our plans."
"That is good sense," Father Anselm said; "and remember, not a
word must be spoken when we have once left this chamber. There is
a sentry at the gate; and although the night is dark, and I deem
not that he can see us, yet must we observe every precaution."
"Holy father," Archie said, "no words of mine can thank you for
the part which you are playing tonight. Believe me, Archie Forbes
will ever feel grateful for your kindness and aid; and should you
ever quit Dunstaffnage you will be welcomed at Aberfilly Castle. As
to you, lady, henceforth Archie Forbes is your knight and servant.
You have given me my life, and henceforth I regard it as yours. Will
you take this ring as my token? Should you ever send it to me, in
whatever peril or difficulty you may be, I will come to your aid
instantly, even should it reach me in a stricken battle. Think not
that I speak the language of idle gallantry. Hitherto my thoughts
have been only on Scotland, and no maiden has ever for an instant
drawn them from her. Henceforth, though I fight for Scotland, yet
will my country have a rival in my heart; and even while I charge
into the ranks of the English, the fair image of Marjory MacDougall
will be in my thoughts."
Father Anselm gave a slight start of surprise as Archie concluded,
and would have spoken had not the girl touched him lightly. She
took the pledge from Archie and said, "I will keep your ring, Sir
Archibald Forbes; and should I ever have occasion for help I will
not forget your promise. As to your other words, I doubt not that
you mean them now; but it is unlikely, though I may dwell in your
thoughts, that you will ever in the flesh see Marjory MacDougall,
between whose house and yours there is, as you know, bitter enmity."
"There! there!" Father Anselm said impatiently; "enough, and more
than enough talk. Go to the door, Sir Archibald, and prepare to
open it directly I have blown out the light. The way up the stairs
lies on your right hand as you go out."
Not another word was spoken. Noiselessly the little party made their
way to the roof; there one end of the rope was quickly knotted round
the battlement. Archie grasped the good priest's hand, and kissed
that of the girl; and then, swinging himself off the battlement,
disappeared at once in the darkness. Not a sound was heard for
some time, then the listening pair above heard a faint splash in
the water. The priest laid his hands on the rope and found that it
swung slack in the air; he hauled it up and twisted it again round
his waist. As he passed the door of the cell he pushed it to and
replaced the bars and bolts, and then with his charge regained the
portion of the castle inhabited by the family.
A few vigorous strokes took Archie across the moat, and an hour
later he was deep in the heart of the forest. Before morning broke
he was far beyond the risk of pursuit; and, taking the bearings of
the surrounding hills, he found himself, after some walking, at the
spot where he had left the royal party. As he had expected, it was
deserted; he, however, set out on the traces of the party, and that
night overtook them at their next encampment.
With the reticence natural to young lovers Archie felt a disinclination
to speak of what had happened, or of the services which Marjory
MacDougall had rendered him. As it was naturally supposed that he
had lost his way in the woods on the previous day, and had not reached
the encampment in the morning, until after they had started, few
questions were asked, and indeed the thoughts of the whole party
were occupied with the approaching separation which the night
before they had agreed was absolutely necessary. The ladies were
worn out with their fatigues and hardships, and the Earl of Athole,
and some of the other elder men, were also unable longer to support
it. Winter was close at hand, and the hardships would increase ten
fold in severity. Therefore it was concluded that the time had come
when they must separate, and that the queen and her companions,
accompanied by those who could still be mounted, should seek shelter
in Bruce's strong castle of Kildrummy. The Earl of Athole and the
king's brother Nigel were in charge of the party.
Bruce with his remaining companions determined to proceed into
Kintyre, the country of Sir Neil Campbell, and thence to cross for
a time to the north of Ireland. Sir Neil accordingly started to
obtain the necessary vessels, and the king and his company followed
slowly. To reach the Firth of Clyde it was necessary to cross Loch
Lomond. This was a difficult undertaking; but after great search
Sir James Douglas discovered a small boat sunk beneath the surface
of the lake. On being pulled out it was found to be old and leaky,
and would hold at best but three. With strips torn from their garments
they stopped the leaks as best they could, and then started across
the lake. There were two hundred to cross, and the passage occupied
a night and a day; those who could not swim being taken over in the
boat, while the swimmers kept alongside and when fatigued rested
their hands on her gunwales. They were now in the Lennox country,
and while Bruce and his friends were hunting, they were delighted
to come across the Earl of Lennox and some of his companions,
who had found refuge there after the battle of Methven. Although
himself an exile and a fugitive the earl was in his own country,
and was therefore able to entertain the king and his companions
hospitably, and the rest and feeling of security were welcome indeed
after the past labours and dangers.
After a time Sir Neil Campbell arrived with the vessels, and,
accompanied by the Earl of Lennox, Bruce and his companions embarked
at a point near Cardross. They sailed down the Clyde and round
the south end of Arran, until, after many adventures and dangers,
they reached the Castle of Dunaverty, on the south point of the Mull
of Kintyre, belonging to Angus, chief of Islay. Here they waited
for some time, but not feeling secure even in this secluded spot
from the vengeance of their English and Scottish foes, they again
set sail and landed at the Isle of Rathlin, almost midway between
Ireland and Scotland. Hitherto Robert Bruce had received but little
of that support which was so freely given to Wallace by the Scotch
people at large; nor is this a matter for surprise. Baliol and
Comyn had in turn betrayed the country to the English, and Bruce
had hitherto been regarded as even more strongly devoted to the
English cause than they had been. Thus the people viewed his attempt
rather as an effort to win a throne for himself than as one to free
Scotland from English domination. They had naturally no confidence
in the nobles who had so often betrayed them, and Bruce especially
had, three or four times already, after taking up arms, made his
peace with England and fought against the Scots. Therefore, at first
the people looked on at the conflict with comparative indifference.
They were ready enough to strike for freedom, as they had proved
when they had rallied round Wallace, but it was necessary before
they did so that they should possess confidence in their leaders.
Such confidence they had certainly no cause whatever to feel in
Bruce. The time was yet to come when they should recognize in him a
leader as bold, as persevering, and as determined as Wallace himself.
The people of Rathlin were rude and ignorant, but simple and
hospitable. The island contained nothing to attract either adventurers
or traders, and it was seldom, therefore, that ships touched there,
consequently there was little fear that the news of the sojourn of
the Scotch king and his companions would reach the mainland, and
indeed the English remained in profound ignorance as to what had
become of the fugitives, and deemed them to be still in hiding
somewhere among the western hills.
Edward had in council issued a proclamation commanding "all the
people of the country to pursue and search for all who had been in
arms and had not surrendered, also all who had been guilty of other
crimes, and to deliver them up dead or alive, and that whosoever
were negligent in the discharge of his duty should forfeit their
castles and be imprisoned."
Pembroke, the guardian, was to punish at his discretion all who
harboured offenders. Those who abetted the slayers of Comyn, or who
knowingly harboured them or their accomplices, were to be "drawn
and hanged," while all who surrendered were to be imprisoned during
the king's pleasure. The edict was carried out to the letter, and
the English soldiery, with the aid of the Scotch of their party,
scoured the whole country, putting to the sword all who were found
in arms or under circumstances of suspicion.