A Mission to Ireland
Father Austin was as good as his word, and it was long indeed
since Archie had sat down to such a meal as that which was spread
for him. Hungry as he was, however, he could scarce keep his eyes
open to its conclusion, so great was the fatigue of mind and body;
and on retiring to the chamber which the monks had prepared for
him, he threw himself on a couch and instantly fell asleep. In
the morning the gale still blew violently, but with somewhat less
fury than on the preceding evening. He joined the monks at their
morning meal in the refectory, and after their repast they gathered
round him to listen to his news of what was doing in Scotland; for
although at ordinary times pilgrims came not unfrequently to visit
the holy isle of Colonsay, in the present stormy times men stirred
but little from home, and it was seldom that the monks obtained news
of what was passing on the mainland. Presently a servitor brought
word that the prior would see Archie.
"It was ill talking last night," the prior said, "with a man hungry
and worn out; but I gathered from what you said that you are not
only a follower of Bruce, but that you were with him at that fatal
day at Dumfries when he drew his dagger upon Comyn in the sanctuary."
"I was there, holy father," Archie replied, "and can testify that
the occurrence was wholly unpremeditated; but Bruce had received
sufficient provocation from the Comyn to afford him fair reason for
slaying him wheresoever they might meet. But none can regret more
than he does that that place of meeting was in a sanctuary. The
Comyn and Bruce had made an agreement together whereby the former
relinquished his own claims to the throne of Scotland on condition
that Bruce, on attaining the throne, would hand over to him all
his lordships in Carrick and Annandale."
"It were a bad bargain," the prior said, "seeing that Comyn would
then be more powerful than his king."
"So I ventured to tell the Bruce," Archie replied.
"Thou?" the prior said; "you are young, sir, to be in a position
to offer counsel to Robert Bruce."
"I am young, holy prior," Archie said modestly; "but the king is
good enough to overlook my youth in consideration of my fidelity
to the cause of Scotland. My name is Archibald Forbes."
"Sir Archibald Forbes!" the prior repeated, rising; "and are you
really that loyal and faithful Scottish knight who fought ever by
the side of Wallace, and have almost alone refused ever to bow the
knee to the English? Even to this lonely isle tales have come of
your valour, how you fought side by side with Wallace, and were,
with Sir John Grahame, his most trusty friend and confidant. Many
of the highest and noblest of Scotland have for centuries made
their way to the shrine of Colonsay, but none more worthy to be
our guest. Often have I longed to see so brave a champion of our
country, little thinking that you would one day come a storm driven
guest. Truly am I glad to see you, and I say it even though you may
have shared in the deed at Dumfries, for which I would fain hope
from your words there is fairer excuse to be made than I had hitherto
deemed. I have thought that the Bishops of St. Andrews and Glasgow
were wrong in giving their countenance to a man whom the holy
father had condemned--a man whose prior history gives no ground
for faith in his patriotism, who has taken up arms, now for, now
against, the English, but has ever been ready to make terms with
the oppressor, and to parade as his courtier at Westminster. In
such a man I can have no faith, and deem that, while he pretends
to fight for Scotland, he is in truth but warring for his
own aggrandizement. But since you, the follower and friend of the
disinterested and intrepid champion of Scotland, speak for the
Bruce, it maybe that my judgement has been too severe upon him."
Archie now related the incident of his journey to London to urge
Bruce to break with Edward and to head the national movement. He
told how, even before the discovery of his agreement with Comyn,
brought about by the treachery of the latter, Bruce had determined
definitely to throw in his cause with that of Scotland; how upon
that discovery he had fled north, and, happening to meet Comyn at
Dumfries, within the limits of the sanctuary, had, in his indignation
and ire at his treachery, drawn and slain him. Then he told the
tale of what had taken place after the rout of Methven, how bravely
Bruce had borne himself, and had ever striven to keep up the hearts
of his companions; how cheerfully he had supported the hardships,
and how valiantly he had borne himself both at Methven and when
attacked by the MacDougalls of Lorne.
"Whatever his past may have been," Archie concluded, "I hold that
now the Bruce is as earnest in the cause of Scotland as was even
my dear leader Wallace. In strength and in courage he rivals that
valiant knight, for though I hold that Wallace was far more than
a match for any man of his time, yet Bruce is a worthy second to
him, for assuredly no one in Scotland could cross swords with him
on equal chances. That he will succeed in his enterprise it were
rash to say, for mighty indeed are the odds against him; but if
courage, perseverance, and endurance can wrest Scotland from the
hands of the English, Robert Bruce will, if he lives, accomplish
the task."
"Right glad am I," the prior replied, "to hear what you have told
me. Hitherto, owing to my memory of his past and my horror at his
crime--for though from what you tell me there was much to excuse
it, still it was a grievous crime--I have had but little interest
in the struggle, but henceforth this will be changed. You may
tell the king that from this day, until death or victory crown his
efforts, prayers will be said to heaven night and day at Colonsay
for his success."
It was four days before the storm was over and the sea sufficiently
calmed to admit of Archie's departure. During that time he remained
as the honoured guest of the priory, and the good monks vied with
the prior in their attentions to the young knight, the tales of
whose doings, as one of Scotland's foremost champions, had so often
reached their lonely island. At the end of that time, the sea being
now calm and smooth, with a light wind from the north, Archie bade
adieu to his hosts and sailed from Colonsay.
Light as the wind was, it sufficed to fill the sail; and as the boat
glided over the scarce rippled water Archie could not but contrast
the quiet sleepy motion with the wild speed at which the boat had
torn through the water on her northern way. It was not until the
following morning that Rathlin again came in sight.
As the boat was seen approaching, and was declared by the islanders
to be that which they had regarded as lost in the storm a week
previously, the king, Douglas, and the rest of his followers made
their way down to the shore; and loud was the shout of welcome
which arose when Archie stood up and waved his hand.
"Verily, Archie Forbes," the king said as he warmly embraced the
young knight, "I shall begin to think that the fairies presided
at your birth and gave you some charm to preserve your life alike
against the wrath of men and of the elements. Never assuredly did
anyone pass through so many dangers unscathed as you have done."
"I hope to pass through as many more, sire, in your service," Archie
said smiling.
"I hope so, indeed," Bruce replied; "for it were an evil day for
me and for Scotland that saw you fall; but henceforth I will fret
no more concerning you. You alone of Wallace's early companions
have survived. You got free from Dunstaffnage by some miracle
which you have never fully explained to me, and now it would seem
that even the sea refuses to swallow you."
"I trust," Archie said more gravely, "that the old saying is not
true in my case, and that hanging is not to be my fate. Assuredly
it will be if I ever fall into the hands of Edward, and I shall
think it a cruel fate indeed if fortune, which has spared me so
often in battle, leads me to that cruel end at last."
"I trust not indeed, Sir Archie," the king said, "though hanging now
has ceased to be a dishonourable death when so many of Scotland's
best and bravest have suffered it at the English hands. However, I
cannot but think that your fairy godmother must have reserved for
you the fate of the heroes of most of the stories of my old nurse,
which always wound up with 'and so he married, and lived happily
ever after.' And now, Archie, tell me all that has befallen you,
where you have been, and how you fared, and by what miraculous chance
you escaped the tempest. All our eyes were fixed on the boat when
you laboured to reach the shore, and had you heard the groans
we uttered when we saw you give up the effort as hopeless and fly
away to sea before the wind you would have known how truly all
your comrades love you. We gave you up as assuredly lost, for the
islanders here agreed that you had no chance of weathering the
gale, and that the boat would, ere many hours, be dashed to pieces
either on Islay or Jura, should it even reach so far; but the most
thought that you would founder long ere you came in sight of the
land."
Accompanying the king with his principal companions to the hut
which he occupied, Archie related the incidents of the voyage and
of their final refuge at Colonsay.
"It was a wonderful escape," the king said when he finished, "and
the holy Virgin and the saints must assuredly have had you in their
especial care. You have cost us well nigh a fortune, for not one
of us but vowed offerings for your safety, which were, perchance,
the more liberal, since we deemed the chances of paying them so
small. However, they shall be redeemed, for assuredly they have
been well earned, and for my share I am bound, when I come to my
own, to give a piece of land of the value of one hundred marks a
year to the good monks of St. Killian's to be spent in masses for
the souls of those drowned at sea."
Some days later the king said to Archie, "I have a mission for you;
'tis one of danger, but I know that that is no drawback in your
eyes."
"I am ready," Archie said modestly, "to carry out to the best of
my power any errand with which your majesty may intrust me."
"I have been thinking, Sir Archie, that I might well make some sort
of alliance with the Irish chieftains. Many of these are, like
most of our Scotch nobles, on terms of friendship with England;
still there are others who hold aloof from the conquerors. It would
be well to open negotiations with these, so that they by rising
might distract Edward's attention from Scotland, while we, by our
efforts, would hinder the English from sending all their force
thither, and we might thus mutually be of aid to each other. At
present I am, certes, in no position to promise aid in men or money;
but I will bind myself by an oath that if my affairs in Scotland
prosper I will from my treasury furnish money to aid them in carrying
on the struggle, and that if I clear Scotland of her oppressors
I will either go myself or send one of my brothers with a strong
force to aid the Irish to follow our example. The mission is, as
you will see, Sir Archie, a dangerous one; for should any of the
English, or their Irish allies, lay hands on you, your doom would
be sealed. Still you may do me and Scotland great service should
you succeed in your mission. Even minor risings would be of much
utility, seeing that they would at any rate prevent Edward from
bringing over troops from Ireland to assist in our conquest. I have
thought the matter over deeply, and conclude that, young as you are,
I can intrust it to you with confidence, and that you are indeed
the best fitted among those with me to undertake it. Douglas is
but a boy; my brother Edward is too hot and rash; Boyd is impatient
and headstrong, trusty and devoted to me though he is; but I am
sure that in you there is no lack either of prudence or courage.
Hence, Sir Archie, if you will undertake it I will intrust it to
you."
"I will willingly undertake it, sire, since you think me fitting
for it, and deem it a high honour indeed that you have chosen me.
When will you that I start?"
"It were best to lose no time," the king replied, "and if you have
no reason for delay I would that you should embark tonight, so that
before daybreak you may have gained the Irish shore. They tell me
that there are many desperate men in refuge among the caves on the
coast, and among these you might choose a few who might be useful
to you in your project; but it is not in this part that a rising
can be effected, for the country inland is comparatively flat and
wholly in the hands of the English. It is on the west coast that
the resistance to the English was continued to the last, and here
from time to time it blazes out again. In those parts, as they tell
me, not only are there wild mountains and fastnesses such as we
have in Scotland, but there are great morasses and swamps, extending
over wide tracts, where heavy armed soldiers cannot penetrate,
and where many people still maintain a sort of wild independence,
defying all the efforts of the English to subdue them. The people
are wild and savage, and ever ready to rise against the English.
Here, then, is the country where you are most likely to find chiefs
who may enter into our plans, and agree to second our efforts for
independence. Here are some rings and gold chains, which are all
that remain to me of my possessions. Money I have none; but with
these you may succeed in winning the hearts of some of these savage
chieftains. Take, too, my royal signet, which will be a guarantee
that you have power to treat in my name. I need not tell you to be
brave, Sir Archie; but be prudent--remember that your life is of
the utmost value to me. I want you not to fight, but simply to act
as my envoy. If you succeed in raising a great fire in the west
of Ireland, remain there and act as councillor to the chiefs,
remembering that you are just as much fighting for Scotland there
as if you were drawing sword against her foes at home. If you find
that the English arm is too strong, and the people too cowed and
disheartened to rise against it, then make your way back here by
the end of three months, by which time I hope to sail hence and to
raise my standard in Scotland again."
On leaving the king Archie at once conferred with Duncan the fisherman,
who willingly agreed that night to set him ashore in Ireland.
"I will land you," he said, "at a place where you need not fear
that any English will meet you. It is true that they have a castle
but three miles away perched on a rock on the coast. It is called
Dunluce, and commands a wide seaward view, and for this reason it
were well that our boat were far out at sea again before morning
dawned, so that if they mark us they will not suppose that we have
touched on the coast; else they might send a party to search if
any have landed--not even then that you need fear discovery, for
the coast abounds in caves and hiding places. My sons have often
landed there, for we do a certain trade in the summer from the island
in fish and other matters with the natives there. If it pleases
you my son Ronald, who is hardy and intelligent, shall land with
you and accompany you as your retainer while you remain in Ireland.
The people there speak a language quite different to that which you
use in the lowlands of Scotland and in England, but the language
we speak among ourselves closely resembles it, and we can be easily
understood by the people of the mainland. You would be lost did
you go among the native Irish without an interpreter."
Archie thankfully accepted the offer, and that night, after bidding
adieu to the friends and his comrades, started in Duncan's boat.
"'Tis a strange place where I am going to land you," the fisherman
said; "such a place as nowhere else have my eyes beheld, though they
say that at the Isle of Staffa, far north of Colonsay, a similar
sight is to be seen. The rocks, instead of being rugged or square,
rise in close columns like the trunks of trees, or like the columns
in the church of the priory of Colonsay. Truly they seem as if
wrought by the hands of men, or rather of giants, seeing that no
men could carry out so vast a work. The natives have legends that
they are the work of giants of old times. How this may be I know
not, though why giants should have engaged in so useless a work
passes my understanding. However, there are the pillars, whosoever
placed them there. Some of them are down by the level of the sea.
Here their heads seem to be cut off so as to form a landing place,
to which the natives give the name of the Giant's Causeway. Others
in low rows stand on the face of the cliff itself, though how any
could have stood there to work them, seeing that no human foot can
reach the base, is more than I can say. 'Tis a strange and wonderful
sight, as you will say when the morning light suffers you to see
it."
It was fortunate that Duncan knew the coast so well, and was able
by the light of the stars to find a landing place, for quiet as the
sea appeared a swell rose as they neared the shore, and the waves
beat heavily on the wild and rocky coast. Duncan, however, steered
his boat to the very foot of the Causeway, and then, watching his
opportunity, Archie sprang ashore followed by Ronald. A few words
of adieu were spoken, and then the boat rowed out to sea again,
while Archie and Ronald turned away from the landing place.
"It were best," the young fisherman said, "to find a seat among the
rocks, and there to await the dawn, when I can guide you to some
caves hard by; but in the darkness we might well fall and break a
limb did we try and make our way across the coast."
A niche was soon found, and Archie and his companion sat down for
a while. Archie, however, soon discovered that the sides and back
of his seat were formed of the strange columns of which Duncan had
spoken, and that he was sitting upon the tops of others which had
broken off. Eagerly he passed his hands over the surface of these
strange pillars, and questioned his companion as to what he knew
about them; but Ronald could tell him no more than his father
had done, and Archie was forced to await the dawn to examine more
closely the strange columns. Daylight only added to his wonder.
On all sides of him stretched the columns, packed in a dense mass
together, while range above range they stood on the face of the
great cliffs above him. The more he examined them the more his
wonder grew.
"They can neither be the work of men nor giants," he said, "but
must have been called up by the fantastic freak of some powerful
enchanter. Hitherto I have not believed the tales of these mysterious
beings of old times; but after seeing these wonderful pillars I
can no longer doubt, for assuredly no mortal hand could have done
this work."
Ronald now urged that they had better be moving, as it was possible,
although unlikely enough, that one passing along the top of the
cliffs might get sight of them. They accordingly moved along the
shore, and in a quarter of a mile reached the mouth of a great
cave. The bottom was covered with rocks, which had fallen from the
roof, thickly clustered over with wet seaweed, which, indeed, hung
from the sides far up, showing that at high tide the sea penetrated
far into the cave.
"The ground rises beyond," Ronald said, "and you will find recesses
there which the tide never reaches." They moved slowly at first
until their eyes became accustomed to the darkness; then they kept
on, the ground getting more even as they ascended, until they stood
on a dry and level floor.
"Now I will strike a light," Ronald said, "and light the torch
which I brought with me. We are sure to find plenty of driftwood
cast up at the highest point the tide reaches. Then we can make a
fire, and while you remain here I will go out and find some of the
natives, and engage a guide to take us forward tonight."
Taking out his flint and steel, Ronald proceeded to strike a light,
and after several efforts succeeded in doing so and in igniting
some dried moss which he had brought with him, carefully shielded
from damp in the folds of his garment. As a light flame rose
he applied his torch to it; but as he did so, came an exclamation
of astonishment, for gathered in a circle round them were a dozen
wild figures. All were armed and stood in readiness to strike down
the intruders into their hiding place. They were barefooted, and
had doubtless been asleep in the cave until, when awakened by the
approaching footsteps and voices, they had silently arisen and
prepared to fall upon the intruders.
"We are friends," Ronald said in the native language when he
recovered from his start of surprise. "I am Ronald, a fisherman
from Rathlin, and was over here in the summer exchanging fish for
sheep."
"I recollect you," one of the men said; "but what do you here so
strangely and secretly? Are the English hunting you too from your
island as they have done us?"
"They have not come to Rathlin yet," Ronald said.
"Doubtless they would do so, but 'tis too poor to offer any
temptation for their greed. But they are our enemies as they are
yours. I am here to guide this Scottish knight, who is staying at
Rathlin, a fugitive from their vengeance like yourself, and who is
charged with a mission from the King of Scotland to your chiefs,
whom he would fain induce to join in a rising against the power of
the English."
"He is welcome," the man who appeared to be the leader of the party
replied, "and may he succeed in his object; but," he continued
bitterly, "I fear that the chance is a small one. The Norman foot
is on our necks, and most of those who should be our leaders have
basely accepted the position of vassals to the English king. Still
there are brave hearts yet in Ireland who would gladly rise did they
see even a faint chance of success. Hundreds are there who, like
us, prefer to live the lives of hunted dogs in caves, in mountain
fastnesses, or in the bogs, rather than yield to the English yoke.
Tell me your plans and whither you would go; and I will give you
guides who know every foot of the country, and who can lead you to
the western hills, where, though no open resistance is made, the
English have scarce set foot. There we generally find refuge;
and 'tis only at times, when the longing to see the homes of our
childhood becomes too strong for us, that I and those you see--all
of whom were born and reared between this and Coleraine--come
hither for a time, when at night we can issue out and prowl round
the ruins of the homes of our fathers."
While this conversation had been going on, the others, seeing that
the visit was a friendly one, had set to work, and bringing up
driftwood from below, piled it round the little blaze which Ronald
had commenced, and soon had a great fire lighted. They then produced
the carcass of a sheep which they had the evening before carried
off. Ronald had brought with him a large pile of oaten cakes, and
a meal was speedily prepared.
Archie could not but look with surprise at the wild figures around
him, lit up by the dancing glare of the fire. Their hair lay in
tangled masses on their necks; their attire was of the most primitive
description, consisting but of one garment secured round the waist
by a strap of untanned leather; their feet and legs were bare.
Their hair was almost black; their eyes small and glittering, with
heavy overhanging brows; and they differed altogether in appearance
even from the wildest and poorest of the Scottish peasantry. In
their belts all bore long knives of rough manufacture, and most of
them carried slings hanging from the belt, in readiness for instant
use. In spite of the wildness of their demeanour they seemed kindly
and hospitable; and many were the questions which they asked Ronald
concerning the King of Scotland and his knights who were in refuge
at Rathlin.
When the meal was over all stretched themselves on the sand like so
many animals, and without further preparation went off to sleep.
Archie, knowing that nothing could be done until nightfall,
followed their example. The fire had by this time burned low, and
soon perfect stillness reigned in the great cavern, save that far
away at its mouth the low thunder of the waves upon the rocks came
up in a confused roar.