The Escape from Berwick
On entering the castle Archie was at once conducted to a sort of
cage which had been constructed for a previous prisoner. On the
outside of a small cell a framework of stout beams had been erected.
It was seven feet in height, six feet wide, and three feet deep.
The bars were four inches round, and six inches apart. There was
a door leading into the cell behind. This was closed in the daytime,
so that the prisoner remained in the cage in sight of passersby,
but at night the governor, who was a humane man, allowed the door
to remain unlocked, so that the prisoner could enter the inner cell
and lie down there.
The position of the cage was about twenty-five feet above the
moat. The moat itself was some forty feet wide, and a public path
ran along the other side, and people passing here had a full view
of the prisoner. There were still many of Scottish birth in the
town in spite of the efforts which Edward had made to convert it
into a complete English colony, and although the English were in
the majority, Archie was subject to but little insult or annoyance.
Although for the present in English possession, Berwick had always
been a Scotch town, and might yet again from the fortune of war
fall into Scottish hands. Therefore even those most hostile to them
felt that it would be prudent to restrain from any demonstrations
against the Scottish prisoners, since in the event of the city
again changing hands a bloody retaliation might be dealt them.
Occasionally a passing boy would shout out an epithet of contempt
or hatred or throw a stone at the prisoner, but such trifles were
unheeded by him. More often men or women passing would stop and
gaze up at him with pitying looks, and would go away wiping their
eyes.
Archie, after the first careful examination of his cell, at once
abandoned any idea of escape from it. The massive bars would have
defied the strength of twenty men, and he had no instrument of any
sort with which he could cut them. There was, he felt, nothing
before him but death; and although he feared this little for
himself, he felt sad indeed as he thought of the grief of Marjory
and his mother.
The days passed slowly. Five had gone without an incident, and but
two remained, for he knew that there was no chance of any change
in the sentence which Edward had passed, even were his son more
disposed than he toward merciful measures to the Scots, which Archie
had no warrant for supposing. The new king's time would be too
closely engaged in the affairs entailed by his accession to rank,
the arrangement of his father's funeral, and the details of the
army advancing against Scotland, to give a thought to the prisoner
whose fate had been determined by his father.
Absorbed in his own thoughts Archie seldom looked across the moat,
and paid no heed to those who passed or who paused to look at him.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, however, his eye was caught by
two women who were gazing up at the cage. It was the immobility of
their attitude and the length of time which they continued to gaze
at him, which attracted his attention.
In a moment he started violently and almost gave a cry, for in
one of them he recognized his wife, Marjory. The instant that the
women saw that he had observed them they turned away and walked
carelessly and slowly along the road. Archie could hardly believe
that his eyesight had not deceived him. It seemed impossible that
Marjory, whom he deemed a hundred miles away, in his castle at
Aberfilly, should be here in the town of Berwick, and yet when he
thought it over he saw that it might well be so. There was indeed
ample time for her to have made the journey two or three times while
he had been lying in prison at Port Patrick awaiting a ship. She
would be sure, when the news reached her of his capture, that he
would be taken to Edward at Carlisle, and that he would be either
executed there or at Berwick. It was then by no means impossible,
strange and wondrous as it appeared to him, that Marjory should be
in Berwick.
She was attired in the garment of a peasant woman of the better
class, such as the wife of a small crofter or farmer, and remembering
how she had saved his life before at Dunstaffnage, Archie felt that
she had come hither to try to rescue him.
Archie's heart beat with delight and his eyes filled with tears at
the devotion and courage of Marjory, and for the first time since
he had been hurried into the boat on the night of his capture a
feeling of hope entered his breast. Momentary as the glance had
been which he had obtained of the face of Marjory's companion,
Archie had perceived that it was in some way familiar to him. In
vain he recalled the features of the various servants at Aberfilly,
and those of the wives and daughters of the retainers of the estate;
he could not recognize the face of the woman accompanying Marjory
as belonging to any of them. His wife might, indeed, have brought
with her some one from the estates at Ayr whom she had known from
a child, but in that case Archie could not account for his knowledge
of her. This, however, did not occupy his mind many minutes; it
was assuredly one whom Marjory trusted, and that was sufficient
for him. Then his thoughts turned wholly to his wife.
Any one who had noticed the prisoner's demeanor for the last few
days would have been struck with the change which had come over
it. Hitherto he had stood often for hours leaning motionless, with
his arms crossed, in the corner of his cage, with head bent down and
listless air, his thoughts only being busy; now he paced restlessly
up and down his narrow limits, two steps each way and then a turn,
like a caged beast; his hands were clenched, his breast heaved,
his breath came fast, his head was thrown back, often he brushed
his hand across his eyes, and rapid words came from his lips.
The sun sank. An hour later a jailer brought his jug of water and
piece of bread, and then, without a word, retired, leaving, as usual,
the door into the cell open, but carefully locking and barring the
inner door. Archie had a longer walk now, from the front of the
cage to the back of the cell, and for three hours he paced up and
down. Sometimes he paused and listened attentively. The sounds in
the town gradually died away and all became still, save that he
could hear the calls of the warder on the battlement above him.
The night was a very dark one and he could scarcely make out the
gleam of water in the moat below.
Suddenly something struck him a sharp blow on the face and fell at
his feet. He stooped and picked it up, it was an arrow with a wad
of wool fastened round its point to prevent it from making a noise
should it strike the wall or cage; to the other end was attached a
piece of string. Archie drew it in until he felt that it was held
firmly, then after a moment the hold relaxed somewhat, and the
string again yielded as he drew it. It was now, he felt, taut from
the other side of the moat. Presently a stout rope, amply sufficient
to bear his weight, came into his hands. At the point of junction
was attached some object done up in flannel. This he opened, and
found that it was a fine saw and a small bottle containing oil. He
fastened the rope securely to one of the bars and at once commenced
to saw asunder one of the others. In five minutes two cuts had
been noiselessly made, and a portion of the bar five feet long came
away. He now tried the rope and found that it was tightly stretched,
and evidently fixed to some object on the other side of the moat.
He grasped it firmly with his arms and legs and slid rapidly down
it.
In another minute he was grasped by some strong arms which checked
his rapid progress and enabled him to gain his feet without the
slightest noise. As he did so a woman threw her arms round him,
and he exchanged a passionate but silent embrace with Marjory. Then
she took his hand and with noiseless steps they proceeded down the
road. He had before starting removed his shoes and put them in his
pockets. Marjory and her companion had also removed their shoes,
and even the keenest ears upon the battlements would have heard
no sound as they proceeded along the road. Fifty yards farther and
they were among the houses. Here they stopped a minute and put on
their shoes, and then continued their way. Not a word was spoken
until they had traversed several streets and stopped at the door
of a house in a quiet lane; it yielded to Marjory's touch, she and
Archie entered, and their follower closed and fastened it after
them.
The moment this was done Marjory threw her arms round Archie's neck
with a burst of tears of joy and relief. While Archie was soothing
her the third person stirred up the embers on the hearth and threw
on a handful of dry wood.
"And who is your companion?" Archie asked, after the first transports
of joy and thankfulness were past.
"What! don't you recognize Cluny?" Marjory asked, laughing through
her tears.
"Cluny! of course," Archie exclaimed, grasping his follower's hand
in his. "I only caught a glimpse of your face and knew that it was
familiar to me, but in vain tried to recall its owner. Why, Cluny,
it is a long time since you went dressed as a girl into Ayr! And
so it is my good friend who had shared my wife's dangers."
"He has done more than that, Archie," Marjory said, "for it was
to him that I owe my first idea of coming here. The moment after
the castle was taken and it was found that you had been carried
off in a boat by the English, Cluny started to tell me the news.
Your mother and I were beside ourselves with grief, and Cluny, to
comfort us, said, 'Do not despair yet, my lady; my lord shall not
be killed by the English if I can prevent it. The master and I
have been in a good many dangers, and have always come out of them
safe; it shall not be my fault if he does not slip through their
hands yet.' 'Why, what can you do, Cluny?' I said. 'I don't know
what I can do yet,' he replied; 'that must depend upon circumstances.
My lord is sure to be taken to Carlisle, and I shall go south to
see if I cannot get him out of prison. I have often gone among the
English garrisons disguised as a woman, and no one in Carlisle is
likely to ask me my business there.' It was plain to me at once that
if Cluny could go to your aid, so could I, and I at once told him
that I should accompany him. Cluny raised all sorts of objections,
but to these I would not listen, but brought him to my will by saying,
that if he thought my being with him would add to his difficulties
I would go alone, but that go I certainly would. So without more
ado we got these dresses and made south. We had a few narrow
escapes of falling into the hands of parties of English, but at last
we crossed the frontier and made to Carlisle. Three days later we
heard of your arrival, and the next morning all men were talking
about your defiance of the king, and that you had been sent to Berwick
for execution at the end of the week. So we journeyed hither and
got here the day after you arrived. The first step was to find
a Scotchwoman whom we might trust. This, by great luck, we did,
and Mary Martin, who lives in this house, is a true Scotchwoman,
and will help us to the extent of her power; she is poor, for her
husband, who is an Englishman, had for some time been ill, and died
but yesterday. He was, by what she says, a hard man and cruel, and
his death is no grief to her, and Mary will, if she can, return
with her daughter to Roxburgh, where her relations live, and where
she married her husband, who was a soldier in the English garrison
there."
"But, Marjory," Archie said, "have you thought how we are to escape
hence; though I am free from the castle I am still within the walls
of Berwick, and when, tomorrow, they find that I have escaped, they
will search every nook and corner of the town. I had best without
delay try and make my way over the walls."
"That was the plan Cluny and I first thought of," Marjory replied;
"but owing to the raids of the Douglas on the border, so strict
a watch is kept on the walls that it would be difficult indeed to
pass. Cluny has tried a dozen times each night, but the watch is
so vigilant that he has each time failed to make his way past them,
but has been challenged and has had several arrows discharged at
him. The guard at the gates is extremely strict, and all carts that
pass in and out are searched. Could you have tried to pass before
your escape was known you might no doubt have done so in disguise,
but the alarm will be given before the gates are open in the morning,
and your chance of passing through undetected then would be small
indeed. The death of the man Martin suggested a plan to me. I
have proposed it to his wife, and she has fallen in with it. I
have promised her a pension for her life should we succeed, but I
believe she would have done it even without reward, for she is a
true Scotchwoman. When she heard who it was that I was trying to
rescue, she said at once she would risk anything to save the life
of one of Scotland's best and bravest champions; while, on the other
hand, she cares not enough for her husband to offer any objection
to my plans for the disposal of his body."
"But what are your plans, Marjory?"
"All the neighbours know that Martin is dead; they believe that Cluny
is Mary's sister and I her niece, and she has told them that she
shall return with us to Roxburgh. Martin was a native of a village
four miles hence, and she is going to bury him with his fathers
there. Now I have proposed to her that Martin shall be buried
beneath the wood store here, and that you shall take his place in
the coffin."
"It is a capital idea, Marjory," Archie said, "and will assuredly
succeed if any plan can do so. The only fear is that the search
will be so hot in the morning that the soldiers may even insist
upon looking into the coffin."
"We have thought of that," Marjory said, "and dare not risk it.
We must expect every house to be searched in the morning, and have
removed some tiles in the attic. At daybreak you must creep out
on the roof, replace the tiles, and remain hidden there until the
search is over. Martin will be laid in the coffin. Thus, even
should they lift the lid, no harm will come of it. Directly they
have gone, Cluny will bring you down, and you and he dig the grave
in the floor of the woodshed and place Martin there, then you
will take his place in the coffin, which will be placed in a cart
already hired, and Cluny, I, Mrs. Martin, and her daughter will
then set out with it."
Soon after daybreak the quick strokes of the alarm bell at the
castle told the inhabitants of Berwick that a prisoner had escaped.
Archie at once betook himself to his place of concealment on the
roof. He replaced the tiles, and Cluny carefully obliterated all
signs of the place of exit from within. A great hubbub had by
this time arisen in the street. Trumpets were blowing, and parties
of soldiers moving about in all directions. The gates remained
unopened, orders being given that none should pass through without
a special order from the governor.
The sentries on the wall were doubled, and then a house to house
search was commenced, every possible place of concealment being
rummaged from basement to attic. Presently the searchers entered the
lane in which Mrs. Martin lived. The latch was ere long lifted,
and a sergeant and six soldiers burst into the room. The sight
which they beheld quieted their first noisy exclamations. Four
women in deep mourning were kneeling by a rough coffin placed on
trestles. One of them gave a faint scream as they entered, and Mary
Martin, rising to her feet, said:
"What means this rough intrusion?"
"It means," the sergeant said, "that a prisoner has escaped from
the castle, one Archibald Forbes, a pestilent Scotch traitor. He
has been aided by friends from without, and as the sentries were
watchful all night, he must be hidden somewhere in the town, and
every house is to be searched."
"You can search if you will," the woman said, resuming the position
on her knees. "As you see, this is a house of mourning, seeing
that my husband is dead, and is today to be buried in his native
village, three miles away."
"He won't be buried today," the sergeant said; "for the gates are
not to be opened save by a special order from the governor. Now,
lads," he went on, turning to the men, "search the place from top
to bottom, examine all the cupboards and sound the floors, turn over
all the wood in the shed, and leave not a single place unsearched
where a mouse could be hid."
The soldiers scattered through the house, and were soon heard
knocking the scanty furniture about and sounding the floors and
walls. At last they returned saying that nothing was to be found.
"And now," the sergeant said, "I must have a look in that coffin.
Who knows but what the traitor Scot may be hid in there!"
Mrs. Martin leaped to her feet.
"You shall not touch the coffin," she said; "I will not have the
remains of my husband disturbed." The sergeant pushed her roughly
aside, and with the end of his pike prised up the lid of the coffin,
while Mrs. Martin and the other three mourners screamed lustily
and wrung their hands in the greatest grief at this desecration of
the dead.
Just as the sergeant opened the coffin and satisfied himself that
a dead man really lay within, an officer, attracted by the screams,
entered the room.
"What is this, sergeant?" he asked angrily. "The orders were to
search the house, but none were given you to trouble the inmates."
Mrs. Martin began volubly to complain of the conduct of the soldiers
in wrenching open the coffin.
"It was a necessary duty, my good woman," the officer said, "seeing
that a living man might have been carried away instead of a dead
one; however, I see all is right."
"Oh, kind sir!" Mrs. Martin said, sobbing, "is it true what this
man tells me, that there is no passage through the gates today? I
have hired a cart to take away my husband's body; the grave is dug,
and the priest will be waiting. Kind sir, I pray of you to get me
a pass to sally out with it, together with my daughter, sister,
and niece."
"Very well," the officer said kindly, "I will do as you wish. I
shall be seeing the governor presently to make my report to him;
and as I have myself seen the dead body can vouch that no ruse
is intended. But assuredly no pass will be given for any man to
accompany you; and the Scot, who is a head and shoulders taller
than any of you, would scarcely slip out in a woman's garment. When
will the cart be here?"
"At noon," the woman replied.
"Very well; an hour before that time a soldier will bring out the
pass. Now, sergeant, have you searched the rest of the house?"
"Yes, sir; thoroughly, and nothing suspicious has been found."
"Draw off your men, then, and proceed, with your search elsewhere."
No sooner had the officer and men departed than Cluny ran upstairs,
and removing two of the tiles, whispered to Archie that all was
clear. The hole was soon enlarged, and Archie re-entering, the pair
descended to the woodshed which adjoined the kitchen, and there,
with a spade and mattock which Cluny had purchased on the preceding
day, they set to work to dig a grave. In two hours it was completed.
The body of John Martin was lowered into it, the earth replaced
and trodden down hard, and the wood again piled on to it.
At eleven o'clock a soldier entered with the governor's pass
ordering the soldier at the gate to allow a cart with the body of
John Martin, accompanied by four women, to pass out from the town.
At the appointed time the cart arrived. Archie now took his place
in the coffin. His face was whitened, and a winding sheet wrapped
round him, lest by an evil chance any should insist on again
looking into the coffin. Then some neighbours came in and assisted
in placing the coffin in the cart. The driver took his place beside
it, and the four women, with their hoods drawn over their heads,
fell in behind it weeping bitterly.
When they arrived at the gate the officer in charge carefully read
the order, and then gave the order for the gate to be opened. "But
stop," he said, "this pass says nothing about a driver, and though
this man in no way resembles the description of the doughty Scot,
yet as he is not named in the pass I cannot let him pass." There
was a moment's pause of consternation, and then Cluny said:
"Sister Mary, I will lead the horse. When all is in readiness, and
the priest waits, we cannot turn back on such a slight cause." As
the driver of the cart knew Mary Martin, he offered no objection,
and descended from his seat. Cluny took the reins, and, walking by
the side of the horse's head, led him through the gates as these
were opened, the others following behind. As soon as they were
through, the gate closed behind them, and they were safely out of
the town of Berwick.
So long as they were within sight of the walls they proceeded at
a slow pace without change of position, and although Cluny then
quickened the steps of his horse, no other change was made until two
miles further they reached a wood. Then Cluny leapt into the cart
and wrenched off the lid of the coffin. It had been but lightly
nailed down, and being but roughly made there were plenty of crevices
through which the air could pass.
"Quick, Sir Archie!" he said, "let us get this thing out of the
cart before any person happen to come along."
The coffin was lifted from the cart, and carried some short
distance into the wood. A few vigorous kicks separated the planks
which composed it. These were taken and thrust separately among
bushes at some little distance from each other. Cluny then unrolled
the bundle which he had brought from the cart, and handed to Archie
a suit of clothes fitted for a farmer. These Archie quickly put
on, then he returned to the cart, which he mounted, and took the
reins. The others got up behind him and seated themselves on the
straw in the bottom of the cart. Then Archie gave the horse a smart
cut with his whip, and the cart proceeded at a steady trot along
the road to the west.