The Ordeal of Battle.
Having thus seen the Lady Beatrice safe into the hands of friends, we
must leave her to be recovered by their affectionate care, whilst we
give some account of the preparations which were making for the duel
between Sir Patrick Hepborne and Sir John Halyburton.
The Lord of Dirleton, after some moments of cool reflection, began to
regret that his feelings had so hurried him away, as to make him forget
that his family honour could gain but little by the cause of the duel
being made public. He therefore lost no time in beseeching the King
that the lists might be erected in some situation where the vulgar, at
least, could be excluded; and, in compliance with this request, a spot
was fixed on, in the meadow below the Palace of Scone, and there
workmen were employed in immense numbers to ensure their erection
against the time fixed on. Even during the night they worked
unceasingly, and the lights were seen flitting about, and the hatchets,
saws, and hammers were heard in full operation, so that by the morning
of the appointed day a rudely-constructed amphitheatre of combat was
prepared.
The morning was beautiful, and although all about the court knew that
the day must end in a tragedy, yet nothing could be more gay or
brilliant than the prologue to the scene. The King’s pavilion was
pitched close to the outside of the lists, and a private door and stair
led up from it into a balcony over the centre of one of the sides of
the enclosure, where the King took his seat, with the Regent, the Lord
of Dirleton and his lady, together with the Franciscan and some others.
Between the outer and the inner lists, a wide space extended all around
on both sides, from one gate to the other, which was dedicated to the
nobles and knights who sat on horseback, there to witness the combat.
There were barriers in the inner circle of palisadoes, one opposite to
each side of the gate.
The two knights arrived at the outside of the lists, each attended by
his esquire, and armed at all points, both horse and man; and each of
them waited at a different gate, that he might be admitted with all the
ceremony of chivalry.
After the King was seated, the Constable, Marshal of the lists, and the
heralds took their stand in the places allotted for them below. Then
appeared Sir John Halyburton, attended by his esquire, at the east
gate; which circumstance being formally announced to the Constable and
Marshal, they went thither to receive him.
“Who art thou, and for what purpose art thou come hither?” demanded the
Constable.
“I am Sir John Halyburton,” replied he; “and hither am I come, mounted
and armed, to perform my challenge against Sir Patrick Hepborne,
younger of Hailes, and to redeem my pledge. Wherefore do I humbly
desire this gate to be opened, that I may be suffered to perform mine
intent and purpose.”
“Thou shalt have way hither if thou be’st indeed he whom thou dost set
thyself forth to be,” replied the Constable. “The Moor’s head proper on
thy crest, and thy golden shield with those three mascles on a bend
azure, do speak thee to be him whom thou dost say thou art. Yet must we
behold thy face. Raise thy vizor, then, Sir Knight.”
Sir John Halyburton did as he was desired, and his identity being
acknowledged, he was led into the lists, and placed opposite the King,
where he was to remain until the defendant should appear.
He had to wait no longer than the nature of the ceremony required, when
the Constable was called to the western gate to receive the defendant,
who, on being formally questioned, declared himself to be Sir Patrick
Hepborne, younger of Hailes.
“We do indeed behold the couped horse’s head with bridled neck on thy
crest,” said the Constable; “and on thy shield gules, the chevron
argent, with the two lions pulling at the rose, but we would have other
proof that thou art in very deed Sir Patrick Hepborne. Raise thy vizor,
Sir Knight, that we may behold thy countenance. Ay, now we do indeed
see that thou art the very defendant in this duel. Enter;” and he was
accordingly led into the lists, and placed by the side of his
challenger.
Then were the weapons of each examined. These were a lance, a
battle-axe, a sword, and a dagger. The lances were measured, and
everything was adjusted in such a manner that neither should have any
undue advantage over the other. The Constable next besought His
Majesty’s pleasure, to know whether he would in person take the oaths
of the combatants, or whether he would empower him and the Marshal to
do it; and having received orders to proceed, they first addressed Sir
John Halyburton, and demanded of him what were the terms of his
challenge.
“I do appear as champion for William de Vaux, Lord of Dirleton,”
replied Sir John; “he being of an age which doth render it impossible
that he can take arms in his own person; also for John de Vaux, his
brother, a friar of the order of St. Francis, to do battle against Sir
Patrick Hepborne, younger of Hailes, whom, in their name, and upon
their credit, I do accuse of having wronged them in certain matters
well known to His Majesty, as also to the defendant, and to compel him
to own his guilt, or to clear it by his arm.”
“Thou dost swear, then, on the holy Evangelists,” said the Constable,
“that this is the true cause of thy coming hither, that thou dost
thyself believe the averments of those for whom thou dost appear, and
that thou art prepared, if it be God’s will, to support the same with
thy life.”
“I do swear,” replied Sir John Halyburton.
“And thou, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said the Constable, “dost thou
comprehend the charge that is brought against thee; and if thou dost,
what hast thou to answer?”
“I do comprehend the charge,” replied Sir Patrick; “and I do deny it
solemnly in all its parts. I do deny that I have ever done injury to
the Lord of Dirleton, or to any person or thing of his; and I do
declare, that both to him and to his I have borne, and do still bear,
the strongest love. This do I swear on the holy Evangelists; and God so
help me as I do speak the truth.”
Then the second oath—that they had not brought with them other armour
or weapon than such as was allowed, nor any engine, instrument, herb,
charm, or enchantment, and that neither of them should put affiance or
trust in anything other than God and their own valour, as God and the
holy Evangelists should help them—being solemnly sworn by both, each
was led off to the barrier opposite to the gate he had entered by,
where his banner and blazon were set up; and whilst both were in
preparation, the usual proclamation was given forth by the heralds.
The lists were then cleared of every one save only of two knights and
two esquires, one of each to wait upon the Constable and the Marshal.
The knight who was assigned to the Constable was Sir William de Dalzel,
and he who was appropriated to the Marshal was Sir John Assueton. To
each was given a headless lance, and they sat mounted immediately
before the place occupied by the Constable and the Marshal, and
directly under the King’s balcony, that they might be ready to part the
combatants, if it should so please the King.
When all was in readiness, the bugle-note of warning sounded from both
barriers, and, after a short pause, the King issued the usual command,
“Laissez les aller!” and, the signal being given by the heralds’
trumpets, the knights flew together. Halyburton and Hepborne had been,
nay, were at that moment, warmly attached to each other, but his
individual honour as a knight was dearer to each of them than even
friendship. Whatever had been their feelings of regret, or
unwillingness to engage in mortal strife, each now only remembered him
of his own name and that of his lady as he spurred; and, throwing the
blame on unhappy fate, which had thus doomed them to this unnatural
struggle, each thought but of working the death of his opponent, as if
it had been but the winning from him of some gaudy trophy in a
tournament. The collision was tremendous; the clash resounded far and
near, and a murmur of admiration burst from the assembled knights. Both
lances were shivered, and both steeds were thrown so much back on their
haunches, that, for the fraction of a second, it seemed to the
spectators as if it were impossible that they could again recover
themselves.
But the horses regaining their legs, the riders lost not an instant in
seizing the battle-axes that hung at their saddle-bows; and then the
fight became dreadful indeed. Their blows fell so thick and fast upon
each other’s head and body, that the sound resembled that which may be
supposed to come from the busy forge of an armourer; and desperate were
the dints made in the plate-mail both of the horses and their riders.
The noble quadrupeds reared and plunged, and, dexterously guided by the
rein, leaped forwards and backwards, and from side to side, with as
much precision, while the strokes were dealing, as if they had been but
parts of the animals that combated on their backs. But this equestrian
battle was not of long duration. A heavy blow from the axe of Sir John
Halyburton fell upon the head of Hepborne’s favourite war steed,
Beaufront, and, in defiance of his steel chamfront, the noble animal
was so stunned by it that he staggered, and measured his length on the
sod. But as his horse was sinking under him, Sir Patrick made his
battle-axe tell heavily and loudly on the helmet of his opponent, who
had leaned forward to give his stroke more weight, and he beat him
fairly down from his saddle.
Sir Patrick extricated his feet from the stirrups with great agility as
his horse was falling, and leaped on the ground. His antagonist, having
taken some seconds to regain his legs, was completely in his power. But
here friendship came into operation. Although he might, with perfect
honour, have taken full advantage of Sir John Halyburton, he only
brandished his battle-axe over him for an instant to mark that
advantage, whilst the spectators shuddered, in expectation of the blow
that was to put an end to the combat, and then dropping his arm
harmlessly by his side, he retreated a few paces, to wait until his
antagonist should be again equal with him. The King, and the knights
who looked on, clapped their hands in sign of approbation.
And now the combatants again approached each other, and desperate was
the encounter. The armour of both knights was battered so tremendously,
that their helmets were soon shorn of their proud plumes and crests,
which hung down in tattered fragments about their heads. Soon
afterwards, the lacings of their head pieces were cut, and each, in his
turn, lost his bassinet. Their surcoats were cut to shreds, and some of
the fastenings of the most important defences of their bodies being
also demolished, the plates dropped away piecemeal, and the persons of
both were left comparatively exposed, having nothing to resist the
blows but their hauberks and hauquetons. Still they fought with their
battle-axes, until both becoming unable longer to wield them, they
seemed to throw them away by mutual consent, and, drawing their swords
and daggers, began to cut and stab, aiming at those places where their
former weapons had opened breaches, through which they hoped to extract
each other’s life’s blood.
And now, indeed, the combat assumed the character of a deadly strife.
The most experienced warriors present declared, that so perfectly
matched a contest had never before been witnessed, and a very general
opinion prevailed, that, instead of one of them only being slain, the
death of both the knights would probably be the result of this fierce
and desperate duel. Despairing of the life of her champion, the Lady
Dirleton had already fainted, and had been borne out to the King’s
pavilion. The poor old Lord of Dirleton also began to picture to
himself the melancholy scene which must take place on the return of his
daughter, the Lady Jane de Vaux, to weep over the cold and bloody
corpse of him whom she expected to find warmly waiting to salute her as
his bride. As for John de Vaux the Franciscan, he inwardly regretted
that he had not been his own champion; the apprehension of evil fortune
that naturally arises where there is a doubt, having already led him to
fear that Halyburton had much the worst of the combat. As for Assueton
and Sang, they each sat silently in their saddles, in the places where
they were posted, doubtful and unhappy. Their eyes being more turned
upon Hepborne than upon his adversary, they trembled to remark each new
wound he received, and each reeling step which the successful blows of
Halyburton occasioned. His growing faintness was anxiously and
fearfully noticed by them in secret, and every moment made an accession
to their anxiety and their fear. The minstrel, Adam of Gordon, who was
seated among the attendants behind the King, trembled, clasped his
hands, groaned, and moved backwards and forwards on his place; and as
Duncan MacErchar, who was there with his company of Guards, and who as
yet knew little of the usages observed at such duels, it was with the
utmost difficulty that he was prevented from rushing to Hepborne’s
assistance, and he was at length only hindered from doing so by being
seized by the order of the Marshal of the lists.
The combat was raging, though both the knights were evidently growing
fainter and fainter, when a bugle sounded at one of the gates, and one
of the marshalmen being sent to ascertain the cause, brought a message
to the Constable that an esquire waited there who craved immediate
admittance to the King; and the circumstance being signified to his
Majesty, leave was granted to the stranger to enter. He no sooner
appeared within the gate than he was seen to push his horse furiously
along behind the drawn-up ranks of the mounted knights who were looking
on, making directly for the stair that led up from thence to the King’s
gallery. Some who recognized the face of this esquire knew him to be
Rory Spears. Leaping from his froth-covered horse, he left him to pant,
and, springing up the steps to the King’s gallery, he was seen to throw
himself on his knees before His Majesty. What he said was known only to
those who were near the Monarch’s person; indeed the sudden appearance
of this messenger carried away the eyes of the spectators for a few
moments only from the combat, which now appeared to be approaching
nearer and nearer to that fatal termination which so many experienced
heads had anticipated. Already both knights staggered and grew giddy
with their numerous wounds and their loss of blood; and those generous
bosoms who surrounded the lists cursed the interruption which the
King’s attention was receiving, being persuaded, that if it had been
still directed towards the combatants, he could not possibly have
allowed the duel to proceed to the extinction of two such brave lives.
They trembled with dread that he should not look and act until his
interference would be of no avail; for it seemed as if every moment
would see both the heroes extended dead upon the sod, that had been
already rendered slippery with the blood they had spilt.
All at once a great confusion seemed to have taken place in the King’s
gallery. His Majesty himself appeared to be much agitated, and a signal
was given, in his name by the Regent to the Constable and Marshal, to
stop the combat. Their two knights assistants, who had both been in
misery for the fate of their friends who were fighting, gave their
horses the spur, and darted forward like arrows, with their headless
lances extended, to separate the combatants. The two champions,
breathless and hardly able to support themselves, were yet not
approached by any one, save by those who divided them by their
lance-poles, for in this stage of the affair the duel was only stayed;
and as it might yet be the King’s pleasure that they should renew their
strife to the death, the law required that they should be left
precisely in the same state, that if the combat should recommence, it
might do so with each champion in the same circumstances, with relation
to his adversary, as he had been in when the King had interfered.
Faint, and ready to drop, therefore, they supported themselves on their
well-hacked swords; and whilst the blood poured from many a wound, they
panted, and silently surveyed each other’s grim and gory features, at
the short distance by which they were divided, as if each read his own
death legibly written in the death-like face of his opponent.
Female shrieks were now heard coming from the King’s pavilion without
the lists, and all was commotion in the King’s gallery. Robert himself
was seen moving away, supported by some of his people; and, in defiance
of propriety, many were seen rushing out before him by the way that led
down to the pavilion. In a few minutes the gallery was cleared.
Meanwhile the combatants still stood gazing with fixed and ghastly look
at each other; and their two friends sat like equestrian statues, with
their lance-shafts crossed between them, but uttering no word, and
giving no sign; and, while they were thus grouped, a messenger came to
announce to the Constable the King’s pleasure that the duel should be
forthwith terminated and ended without further bloodshed, he having
taken the quarrel into his own hand, and that he was prepared to decide
it in his own pavilion, where the combatants were ordered immediately
to attend him; that the two knights should be led forth of the lists,
each by his own gate, the one by the Constable, and the other by the
Marshal, and that both should make exit at the same moment, by signal
from the heralds’ trumpets, that neither might suffer the disgrace of
being the first to quit them.
The King’s command was no sooner made known than a loud shout burst
from the brave and noble hearts who had witnessed this obstinate and
sanguinary duel. His Majesty’s orders were punctually obeyed, and Sir
Patrick Hepborne followed the marshalman with tottering steps, whilst
Halyburton went staggering in the opposite direction, and as if he was
groping his way in the dark after the Constable. The trumpets sounded,
and they disappeared from the gates. Hepborne, supported by his guide
and his faithful esquire, made the best of his way round to the
external entrance to the King’s pavilion; but thither Sir John
Halyburton never came, for he swooned away the moment he had crossed
the threshold of the gateway. As Hepborne was entering the pavilion, a
lady, frantic with grief and despair, rushed by him, and made her way
towards the eastern gate, followed by several attendants.
Sir Patrick made his obeisance to the King, immediately upon coming
into the pavilion, and His Majesty, with the Regent, came kindly
towards him, to praise his valour and to inquire into his safety. A
crowd, among whom he recognized the Lord and Lady Dirleton, the Earl
and Countess of Moray, and the Franciscan, surrounded a lady who seemed
to be overwhelmed with affliction.
“He is safe,” cried half a dozen voices to her immediately on
perceiving him; and the circle opening at the moment, he beheld the
Lady Beatrice de Vaux. At one and the same instant she screamed aloud
when she saw him, and he sprang forward to throw himself at her feet,
where he fainted away.