ALEXANDER-JONITA’S VICTORY.
But as for my brother, concerning whom was all this pother, he took no
hand at all in the matter. If the people wished him to abide with them,
they must maintain him there. Contrariwise, if the Master he served had
other fields of labour, he would break down dykes and make plain his
path before him.
But as it was, he went about as usual with his pilgrim staff in his hand
visiting the sick, succouring the poor, lifting up the head of weakness
and pain.
On the day when the Sheriff came with his men to the water-edge, Quintin
saw from the manse window a little cloud of men running hither and
thither upon the river-bank.
“There is surely some great ploy of fishing afoot!” he said, quietly,
and so let his eyes fall again contentedly upon his book.
“Faith, ’tis easy to hoodwink a learned man,” cried Alexander-Jonita
when I told her.
It was at this time that I grew to love the lass yet more and more. For
she flashed hither and thither, and whereas she had been no great one
for housework hitherto, now since her sister’s death she would be much
more indoors. Also, with the old man her father, she was exceedingly
patient in his oftentime garrulity. But specially in the defence of the
parish on Quintin’s behalf against the civil arm, she was indefatigable.
Often she would go dressed as a heartsome young callant, with clothes
that her own needle had made, her own deft fingers fashioned. And in
cavalier attire, I tell you, Alexander-Jonita took the eyes of lass and
lady. Once, when we rode by Dee-bridge, a haughty dame sent back her
servant to ask of me, whom she took to be a man-in-waiting, the name of
the handsome young gentleman I served.
I replied with dignity, “’Tis the young Lord Alexander Johnstone,” which
was as near the truth as I could come at a quick venture.
In that crowning ploy of which I have still to tell, it was
Alexander-Jonita who played the leading part.
The Sheriff, being admonished for his slackness by his legal superiors,
and complained of by the reverend court of the Presbytery, resolved to
make a bold push for it, and at one blow to take final possession of
kirk and manse.
So he summoned the yeomanry of the province to meet him under arms at
the village of Causewayend, which stands near the famous and beautiful
loch of Carlinwark, on a certain day, under penalties of fine and
imprisonment. And about a hundred men on horseback, all well armed and
mounted, drew together on the day appointed. A fine breezy day in
August, it was--when many of them doubtless came with small good-will
from their corn-fields, where a winnowing wind searched the stooks till
the ripe grain rustled with the parched well-won sound that is music to
the farmer’s ear.
But if the news of gathering of the yeomanry had been spread by summons,
far more wide and impressive had been the counter call sent throughout
the parish of Balmaghie.
For farmer and cotter alike knew that matters had come to the perilous
pinch with us, and if it should be that the civil powers were not turned
aside now, all the past watching and sacrifice would prove in vain.
It was about noon when the sentinels reported that the Sheriff and his
hundred horsemen had crossed Dee water, and were advancing by rapid
stages.
Now it was Jonita’s plan to draw together the women also--for what
purpose we did not see. But since she had summoned them herself it was
not for any of us young men to say her nay.
So by the green roadside, a mile from the manse and kirk, Jonita had her
hundred and fifty or more women assembled, old and young, mothers of
families and wrinkled grandmothers thereof, young maidens with the
blushes on their cheeks and the snood yet unloosed about their hair.
Faith, spite of the grandmothers, many a lad of us would have desired to
be of that company that day! But Alexander-Jonita would have none of us.
We were to keep the castle, so she commanded, with gun and sword. We
were to sit in our trenches about the kirk, and let the women be our
advance guard.
So when the trampling of horses was heard from the southward, and the
cavalcade came to the narrows of the way, “Halt!” cried Alexander-Jonita
suddenly. And leaping out of the thicket like a young roe of the
mountains, she seized the Sheriff’s bridle rein. At the same moment her
hundred and fifty women trooped out and stood ranked and silent right
across the path of the horsemen.
“What do ye here? Let go, besom!” cried the Sheriff.
“Go back to those that sent ye, Sheriff,” commanded Alexander-Jonita,
“for an’ ye will put out our minister, ye must ride over us and wet the
feet of your horses in our women’s blood.”
“Out upon you, lass! Let men do their work!” cried the Sheriff, who was
a jolly, rollicking man, and, moreover, as all knew, like most sheriffs,
not unkindly disposed to the sex.
“Leave you our minister alone to do his work. I warrant he will not
meddle with you,” answered Alexander-Jonita.
“Faith, but you are a well-plucked one!” cried the Sheriff, looking down
with admiration on her, “but now out of the way with you, for I must
forward with my work.”
“Sir,” said the lass, “ye may turn where ye are, and ride back whence ye
came, for we will by no means let you proceed one step nearer to the
kirk of Balmaghie this day!”
“Forward!” cried the Sheriff, loudly, to his men, thinking to intimidate
the women.
“Stand firm, lasses!” cried Alexander-Jonita, clinging to the Sheriff’s
bridle-rein.
And the company of yeomanry stood still, for, being mostly householders
and fathers of families, they could not bring themselves to charge a
company of women, as it might be their own wives and daughters.
“Forward!” cried the Sheriff again.
“Aye, forward, gallant cavaliers!” cried Alexander-Jonita, “forward, and
ye shall have great honour, Sheriff! More famous than my Lord
Marlborough shall be ye. Ride us down. Put your horses to their speed.
Be assured we will not flinch!”
Time and again the Sheriff tried, now threatening and now cajoling; but
equally to no purpose.
At last he grew tired.
“This is a thankless job,” he said, turning him about; “let them send
their soldiers. I am not obliged to fight for it.”
And so with a “right about” and a wave of the hand he took his valiant
horsemen off by the way they came.
And as they went they say that many a youth turned him on his saddle to
cast a longing look upon Alexander-Jonita, who stood there tall and
straight in the place where she had so boldly confronted the Sheriff.
Then the women sang a psalm, while Alexander-Jonita, leaping on a horse,
rode a musket-shot behind the retiring force, till she had seen them
safely across the river at the fords of Glenlochar, and so finally out
of the parish bounds.