Then there was a great silence, and looking out to sea we saw a huge
wave sweep white-crested over the head of the older woman, who bent to
meet it, and was no more seen. The law had taken its course with her.
There was a murmur of angry voices behind us, but a stern look from Lag
silenced the timorous crowd. Setting spurs to his horse he plunged into
the water, and drew up beside the nearer stake. He severed the rope that
bound the girl, whereat a cheer rose from the townsfolk who imagined
that the law had relented and that its majesty was satisfied with the
death of one victim. He turned his horse and dragged the girl ashore.
As they reached the bank, he flung her from him and demanded:
"Will ye take the oath? Will ye say 'God Save the King?'"
"God save him an He will," she said. "I wish the salvation of all men,
and the damnation of none."
Now to my thinking that was an answer sufficient, and for such the town
folk took it, for some of them cried: "She's said it! She's said it!
She's saved!"
Lag turned on them like a tiger: "Curse ye," he shouted, "for a pack o'
bletherin' auld wives! The hizzy winna' recant. Back intil the sea wi'
her," and gripping her by the arm he dragged her back, and with his own
hands fastened her again to the stake. Her head fell forward so that
for an instant her face lay upon the waters, then she raised it proudly
again. But a halberdier, with no pity in his foul heart, reached out
his long halberd, and placing the blade of it upon her neck pushed her
face down into the sea.
"Tak' anither sup, hinny," he said, and leered at the townsfolk: but
they cried shame upon him and Lag bade him desist.
On came the waters, wave after wave, mounting steadily till they reached
her heart: then they swept over the curve of her bosom and mounted
higher and higher till they touched her neck. She was silent
now--silent, but unafraid. She turned her face to the bank, and, O
wonder, she smiled, and in her eyes there was a mystic light as though
she had seen the Invisible. The cruel waves came on, climbing up the
column of her throat until, as though to show her a mercy which man
denied her, the sea swirled over her and her face fell forward beneath
the waves. Her brown hair floated on the water like a piece of beautiful
sea-wrack, and the broken foam clung to it like pearls. Justice--God
forgive the word--justice had been done: and two women, malignant and
dangerous to the realm because they claimed the right to worship their
Maker according to the dictates of their conscience, had been lawfully
done to death.
There was a rattle of drums, and we fell into rank again. I looked
across the water. Far off I saw a gull flash like a streak of silver
into the waves, and near at hand, afloat upon the water, a wisp of brown
seaweed--or was it a lassie's hair?
*CHAPTER IV*
*THE TAVERN BRAWL*
It was high noon as we cluttered up the hill, back to our camping-place.
Our day's work was done, but it was not till evening that we were free
to go about our own affairs. Try as I might I could not blot out the
memory of the doings of the morning, and when night fell I took my way
with half a dozen companions to the inn that stood not far from the
Tolbooth in the hope that there I might find some relief from the
scourge of my thoughts. In the sanded kitchen, round a glowing
fire--for though it was May the nights were still chilly--we found many
of the townsfolk already gathered. Some were passing a patient hour
with the dambrod, seeking inspiration for crafty moves of the black or
white men in tankards of the tavern-keeper's ale. Others were gathered
round the fire smoking, each with a flagon of liquor at his elbow.
I sat down at a little table with Trooper Agnew, and called for
something to drink. I was in no mood for amusement, and spurned Agnew's
suggestion that we should play draughts. The inn-keeper placed a
tobacco jar between us.
"Ye'll try a smoke?" he queried. "It's guid tobacco: a' the better,
though I hardly daur mention it, that it paid nae duty."
Nothing loth, Agnew and I filled our pipes, and the inn-keeper picking
up a piece of red peat with the tongs held it to our pipes till they
were aglow. It was, as mine host had said, good tobacco, and under its
soothing influence and the brightening effect of his ale my gloom began
to disappear. From time to time other troopers dropped in, and they
were followed by sundry of the townsfolk with whom, in spite of the
events of the morning, we red-coat men were on good terms. Close by the
fire sat one of the halberdiers--the man who had pushed the head of the
drowning girl under the water with his halberd. The ale had loosened his
tongue.
"I dinna ken," he said, "but the thing lies here: if thae stiff-necked
Covenanters winna' tak' the oath to the King, it is the end o' a' proper
order in the country." He spat a hissing expectoration upon the glowing
peat. "I'm a man o' order masel'. I expect fowk to obey me in virtue
o' ma office just as I'm ready to obey them as God and the King ha'e set
abune me."
He spoke loudly as though challenging his audience; but no one made
answer.
The silence was broken by the clatter of draughts as two players ended a
game and set about replacing the men for another joust. The halberdier
took a long draught from his mug.
"Tak' anither sup, hinny," he said, reminiscently, as he set the tankard
down. Then drawing the back of his hand across his mouth he continued:
"It was a fine bit work we did this mornin', lads. I rarely ta'en pairt
in a better job. There's naethin' like making an example o' malignants,
and I'm thinkin' it will be lang before ony mair o' the women o' this
countryside are misguided enough to throw in their lot wi' the
hill-preachers. She was a thrawn auld besom was Marget Lauchlison. I
have kent her mony a year--aye psalm-singing and gabbling texts. Will ye
believe it, she's even flung texts at me. Me! the toon's halberdier!
'The wicked shall fall by his own wickedness,' said she: 'The wicked
shall be turned into Hell'; 'The dwelling place of the wicked shall come
to naught.' Oh, she had a nesty tongue. But noo she's cleppin' wi' the
partans, thank God. Here, Mac, fill me anither jorum. It tak's a lot o'
yill tae wash the taste o' the auld besom's texts off ma tongue."
The inn-keeper placed a full tankard beside him.
"Tak' anither sup, hinny," he said with a laugh, and drank deeply. "Lag
was by-ordnar' the day; I thocht he was gaun to let the bit lassock off
when he dragged her oot o' the water. But nae sic thing, thank God! Ma
certes, he's a through-gaun chiel, Lag. The women-fowk thocht she had
ta'en the aith when she said 'God save him, an He will.' But Lag kent
fine what was in her black heart. She wanted only to save her life.
She was far better drooned--the young rebel! Naethin' like makin' an
example o' them when they are young. Certes, I settled her. Tak'
anither sup, hinny."
A peal of laughter rang through the kitchen. It was more than I could
stand; for notwithstanding all I had seen and done as a trooper some
spark of chivalry still glowed in my heart, and I was under the spell of
her blue and dauntless eyes. I sprang to my feet.
"Curse you for a black-hearted ruffian!" I shouted. "None but a damned
cur would make sport of two dead women."
A silence absolute and cold fell upon the gathering at my first words,
and as I stood there I felt it oppress me.
"Whit's this, whit's this," cried the halberdier. "A trooper turned
Covenanter! I'm thinkin' Lag and Winram will ha'e something to say to
this, an they hear o't."
"Be silent!" I thundered. "I am no Covenanter, but it would be good for
Scotland if there were more such women as we drowned this morning, and
fewer men with such foul hearts as yours."
It was an ill-judged place and time for such a speech, but I was on fire
with anger. The halberdier rose to his feet, flung the contents of his
tankard in my face, roared with laughter, and cried, "Tak' anither sup,
hinny."
This was beyond endurance. With one leap I was upon him and hurled him
to the ground. He fell with a crash; his head struck the flagged floor
with a heavy thud, and he lay still. I had fallen with him, and as I
rose I received a blow which flung me down again. In an instant, as
though a match had been set to a keg of powder, the tavern was in an
uproar. What but a moment before had been a personal conflict between
myself and the halberdier had waxed into a general melee.
Some joined battle on my side, others were against me, and townsmen and
troopers laid about them wildly with fists, beer-pots, and any other
weapons to which they could lay their hands. The clean sanded floor
became a mire of blood and tumbled ale, in which wallowed a tangle of
cursing, fighting men.
Just when the fray was at its hottest the door of the kitchen was thrown
open, and the sergeant of our troop stood in its shadow.
"What's this?" he shouted, and, as though by magic, the combat ceased.
None of us spoke, but the inn-keeper, finding speech at last, said: "A
maist unseemly row, sergeant, begun by ane o' your ain men, wha wi' oot
provocation felled ma frien' the halberdier wha lies yonder a'maist
deid."
The sergeant strode to the body of the halberdier and dropped on his
knees beside it.
"What lousy deevil has done this?" he cried.
"The Englishman," said the inn-keeper; "Nae Scotsman would ha'e felled
sic a decent man unprovoked."
I looked at the halberdier, and saw with relief that he was beginning to
recover from his stupor.
"Fetch us a gill o' your best, Mac," said the sergeant. "We'll see if a
wee drap o' Blednoch will no' bring the puir fellow roon'. And you,
Agnew, and MacTaggart, arrest Trooper Bryden. Lag will ha'e somethin'
to say aboot this."
Agnew and MacTaggart laid each a hand on my shoulder, but my gorge was
up and I resented being made a prisoner. I looked towards the door;
there were four or five troopers in a knot beside it and escape in that
direction was impossible; but behind me there was a stair. One sudden
wrench and I tore myself from my captors and raced wildly up it. At the
top, a door stood open. I flung it to in the faces of Agnew and
MacTaggart, who were racing up behind me, and shot the bolt. Frail
though it was, this barrier would give me a moment's respite. I found
myself in an attic room, and to my joy saw, in the light of the moon, a
window set in the slope of the roof. Rapidly I forced it open, and
threw myself up and out upon the thatched roof. In a moment I was at
its edge, and dropped into the garden at the back of the inn. As I
dropped I heard the door at the stair-head crash and I knew that my
pursuers would soon be upon me. Crouching low I dashed to the bottom of
the garden, broke my way through the prickly hedge and flew hot-foot
down the hill.
In the fitful light I saw the gleam of the river, and knew that my
escape was barred in that direction. I saw that I must either run along
the brae-face towards the sea, or inland up-river to the hills. As I
ran I came to a quick decision and chose the latter course. I glanced
over my shoulder, and, though I could see by the lights in their windows
the houses in the main street of the town, I could not distinguish any
pursuers. Behind me I heard confused shoutings, and the loud voice of
the sergeant giving orders. Breathless, I plunged into a thick growth of
bracken on the hill-side and lay still. I knew that this could afford
me only a temporary refuge, but it served to let me regain breath, and
as I lay there I heard the sergeant cry: "Get lanterns and quarter the
brae-side. He canna ford the water."
I lay in my hiding-place until the lights of the lanterns began to
appear at the top of the brae, then I rose stealthily and, bent double,
hurried to the edge of the bed of brackens. Here, I knew, I was
sufficiently distant from my nearest pursuer to be outside his vision,
while his twinkling light gave me the clue to his whereabouts. Then I
turned and tore along the hillside away from the town. When I had
covered what I thought was the better part of a mile, I lay down under
the cover of a granite boulder. Far behind me I could see the wandering
lights, and I knew that for the moment I had outdistanced my pursuers;
and then to my great belief I heard the notes of the Last Post rise and
fall upon the night air. I smiled as I saw the scattered lights stop,
then begin to move compactly up the hill. At least half an hour, I
judged, must elapse before the pursuit could be renewed, and I felt with
any luck that interval ought to suffice for my escape. It was too
dark--and I was not sufficiently acquainted with the country-side--to
take my bearings, but I knew that the river Cree flowed past the town of
Newton-Stewart, and behind the town were the hills which had afforded
many a Covenanter a safe hiding-place from pursuit. Caution prevented me
from making for the high road, though the speed of my progress might
there be greater. Caution, too, forbade my keeping to the brink of the
river. My greatest safety seemed to lie along the tract between them,
so I set boldly out.
*CHAPTER V*
*IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT*
I had not gone far when my ears caught a familiar sound--the beat of
hoofs on the high road. I paused to listen, and concluded that two
horsemen were making for Newton-Stewart. I guessed the message they
carried, and I knew that not only was I likely to have pursuers on my
heels, but that, unless I walked warily, I was in danger of running into
a cordon of troopers who would be detailed from Newton-Stewart to search
for me. I was a deserter, to whom Lag would give as little quarter as
to a Covenanter. The conviction that there was a price on my head made
me suddenly conscious of the sweetness of life, and drove me to sudden
thought.
By some means or other, before I concealed myself in the fastnesses of
the hills, I must obtain a store of food. The hiding Covenanter, I
remembered, was fed by his friends. I was friendless; and unless I
could manage to lay up some store of food before I forsook the inhabited
valleys nothing but death awaited me among the hills. As I thought of
this, an inspiration of courage came to me. Though it would be
foolishness to walk along the high road I might with advantage make
better speed and possibly find a means of obtaining food if I walked
just beyond the hedge which bordered it. Sooner or later I should in
this way come to a roadside inn. With this thought encouraging me, I
plodded steadily on. The highway was deserted, and no sound was to be
heard but the muffled beat of my own steps upon the turf. If pursuers
were following me from Wigtown, I had left them far behind. It might be
that Lag, thinking shrewdly, had decided that no good purpose was to be
served by continuing the pursuit that night, for he knew that a man
wandering at large in the uniform of a trooper would have little
opportunity of escaping. So, possibly, he had contented himself by
sending the horsemen to Newton-Stewart to apprise the garrison there.
Perhaps at this very moment he was chuckling over his cups as he thought
how he would lay me by the heels on the morrow. In fancy I could see
the furrows on his brow gather in a knot as he brooded over my
punishment.
Then, borne on the still night air, I heard the click and clatter of
uncertain footsteps coming towards me. I crouched behind the hedge and
peered anxiously along the road: then my ears caught the sound of a
song. The wayfarer was in a jovial mood, and I judged, from the
uncertainty of his language, that he was half-drunk. I waited to make
sure that the man was alone, then I stole through the hedge and walked
boldly to meet him.
"It is a fine night," I said, as I came abreast of him. He stopped in
the middle of a stave and looked me up and down.
"Aye, it's a fine nicht," he replied. "Nane the waur for a drap o'
drink. Here! Tak' a dram, an pledge the King's health." He searched
his pockets and after some difficulty withdrew a half-empty bottle from
the inside of his coat and offered it to me. "The King, God bless him,"
I said, as I put it to my lips.
"It's a peety ye're no' traivellin' my road," said the wayfarer. "A
braw young callant like you wi' the King's uniform on his back would
mak' a graun convoy for an auld man alang this lanely road."
"No," I answered, as I handed him his bottle, "My way lies in another
direction."
"Ye'll no' happen to be ane o' Lag's men, are ye?" He did not await my
reply, but continued: "He's a bonnie deevil, Lag! He kens the richt
medicine for Covenanters: but I ken the richt medicine for Jock Tamson,"
and putting the bottle to his lips he drank deep and long. Then he
staggered to the side of the road and sat down, and holding the bottle
towards me said: "Sit doon and gi'es yer crack."
Now I had no wish to be delayed by this half-drunken countryman; but I
thought that he might be of service to me, so I seated myself and
pretended once again to take a deep draught from his bottle. He snatched
it from my lips.
"Haud on," he said, "ye've got a maist uncanny drouth, and that bottle
maun last me till Setterday."
"Unless you leave it alone," I said, "it will be empty ere you reach
home."
"Weel, what if it is?" he hiccoughed. "The Lord made guid drink and I'm
no' the man to spurn the mercies o' the Creator."
"Well," I said, "your drink is good, and I'm as dry as ashes. Can you
tell me where I can get a bottle."
"Oh, weel I can, an' if ye're minded to gang and see Luckie Macmillan,
I'll gi'e ye a convoy. The guid woman'll be bedded sine, but she'll
rise tae see to ony frien' o' Jock Tamson's. Come on, lad," and he
raised himself unsteadily to his feet and, taking me by the arm, began
to retrace his steps in the direction from which he came.
We followed the high road for perhaps a mile, and as we went he rambled
on in good-natured but somewhat incoherent talk, stopping every now and
then while he laid hold of my arm and tapped my chest with the fingers
of his free hand to emphasise some empty confidence. He had imparted to
me, as a great secret, some froth of gossip, when he exclaimed:
"Weel: here we are at Luckie's loanin' and the guid-wife is no' in her
bed yet; I can see a licht in the window."
We turned from the high road and went down the lane, at the bottom of
which I could discern the dark outline of a cottage. As we drew near I
was startled by the sound of a restless horse pawing the ground and,
quick in its wake, the jangle of a bridle chain. A few more steps and I
saw two horses tethered to the gatepost, and their harness was that of
the dragoons. I was walking into the lion's den!
"So Luckie's got company, guid woman," hiccoughed my companion. "I hope
it's no' the gaugers."