THE BATTLE OF LIDDISDALE
The days slipped by and when Hawick had mustered two thousand foot and
some 300 horse he decided to move northward up Liddisdale. The Duke
of Ochil nominally commanded the cavalry, but was really the guiding
spirit of the whole.
Angus, that is Aline, acted as Ochil’s page or squire and was soon
very highly in favour with all the officers. She was, however, very
uncommunicative and kept herself to herself, the which she found much
easier, in that there was a reserved hauteur about Ian when dealing
with those that were at all his equals, which he never displayed when
dealing with inferiors. At the same time every one’s respect for him
was very marked and his power over the men was immense. This new aspect
of his character interested Aline not a little.
There had been rumours for some time of a gathering for an English
raid upon Scotland and early on the morning of the third day after
leaving Canonbie, their scouts brought word of the presence of an
English force, three thousand strong, that had moved up the Tyne from
Bellingham.
Before setting forth, the Duke of Ochil spoke a few words of
encouragement to the men. “It may seem,” he said, “that neither on
their side nor on ours are there enough to make our encounter of great
moment, yet is there more in the balance than that of which ye may be
in any wise aware. Our country is in the hour of her trial and a little
thing may decide the final outcome. On the one hand there is France and
on the other hand there is England, both eager to swallow her up. Yet
are there greater issues than this,--not only is the freedom of our
bodies at stake, but the freedom of our souls and not only of our souls
but of those of mankind.
“Our host is small and our deeds may be obscure; yet though fame is
not likely to be ours, that which we do this day may well be the
foundation of greater things and by our blood we may purchase liberty
of conscience throughout the whole world. No deed is ever so small
as to be of no account and if we play the coward it may be the small
beginning that shall bring upon the nations an avalanche of woe.
“It is for the higher that we strive,--for all that is noblest in man
against all that is low. Yea, I know that many of you here, yourselves
forget the glory of our destiny, zealous though ye be within your
lights. Yet it is the fight of enlightenment against darkness. It is
truth and development, love and beauty against all that is narrow and
stagnant, false and ugly. And if victory be with us, see how great is
the charge upon us that we ourselves do not fall short of our high
endeavour.
“I have said that our host is small and our deeds must be small
likewise, and yet it is not a little thing that I ask of each
individual man. I ask all that ye have, I ask your lives. Nor do I
presume to say that the Lord is on our side, but I do say that if each
do act according to his conscience, while putting aside all prejudice
and all bitterness of heart that might narrow that conscience, it is
not for us to fear the issue. Yea, as far as our minds may discern, we
fight for God and our country.”
So he spoke, and there went up a great shouting, “For God and for our
country.”
It was a still cold day and the very air seemed tense with the issues
involved. Aline’s heart beat with excitement, yet she was surprised how
calm she felt. “Surely I am afeared,” she said, “and yet I am full of
gladness and am ready to give my life, as Ian has asked.” She rode upon
a grey charger carrying the banner of Ochil which she had hastily made
at Canonbie with her own hands;--azure, a fesse between three crescents
argent.[28] Ian lacked Aline’s happy disposition, and looked troubled,
but his resolution to do or die was no whit less determined.
[28] A blue field divided horizontally by a broad silver band; two
silver crescents above and one below.
The English cavalry were, as usual, immensely superior in numbers, and
while the Scots forces were forming their line, they hoped to press the
advantage by a charge, which at the same time should cover the advance
of their own infantry deploying out of the valley.
The Scots were in two ranks, with the reserves below the crest of the
hill, every front man, the butt of his pike against his right foot and
the point breast high, the while those behind crossed their pike points
with those forward. Ian held his horsemen back on the right flank,
while the bowmen were on the left.
The enemy charged swiftly over the haugh, their gay pennons a-flutter
on their lances, a brave sight to see. And as they came they
shouted;--“Down with the heretics; come on, ye coward loons.”
“For God and our country,” the Scots replied, as the wave of Southrons
hurled itself upon the bristling pikes, only to break and scatter as
many a man of that goodly host met his doom.
Ian taking them at a disadvantage led the Scots’ horse in a
counter-charge and menacingly they thundered over the plain, so that
despite his smaller force he drove them behind their own lines and
numbers more of the English bit the dust and among them the Lord of
Almouth, their leader, a noble and brave youth who received a lance
thrust in his side and fell to earth gripping the soil with both his
hands in the agony of death. And many a gay Scots gallant lay on the
ground between the hosts and the corbies gathered in the air watching
for their time to come.
Then for a while the battle fell to those on foot and furiously they
fought and many doughty deeds were done on either side that day. But
terrible was the slaughter, as neither party would yield the advantage
to the other; and the shouting of the fighters mingled with cries of
the wounded, and ever and anon there boomed the roar of the artillery
in the which the English had the better of the Scots.
The fight was stubborn and Aline’s mood, at first all eager, now gave
place to one of dread, the light began to fail and a voice within the
air seemed to whisper, “Whensoever the day goes down, the spirits
of darkness will gather for your destruction and then it will be
too late.” She even thought she saw “Old Moll” stalking through the
battle-field and gloating over the slain.
The battle wavered from side to side and at length it seemed for the
Scots as though all were lost. They had sadly given way and at the
direst moment of their need the Earl of Sanquhar, a man of great valour
and a tower of strength, was shot by an English archer and the arrow
went in at his throat and pierced right through his neck and he fell
forward speechless and the dark mist clouded his eyes. Then the Scots
wavered and fell back still more and the end seemed come and had it
not been for the Earl of Hawick himself, they would have been utterly
worsted. He rushed into the fray and heartened the wavering host and
they made a great onset and the battle stayed not.
Yet did the cannon of the English work sore havoc in the Scottish
ranks, whensoever they were not in close combat, and the Duke of Ochil
came to the Earl and said; “My Lord of Hawick, I will endeavour to
capture them and we may even turn them on our foes.”
He spoke and Aline followed hard after, and he led his men behind the
hill to the other flank and then made as he would charge the footmen
on the English right. But, as he came near to them, he swerved and,
passing round, he advanced to the mouths of the guns, and left and
right his men fell on either hand and their souls fled from them; but
Aline rode safely at his side.
And they came right over against the gunners and one of them did shout
lustily and swing his rod over the Duke and would have felled him to
the earth had not Aline driven the point of her long sword through his
mouth even as he shouted, and he fell backward and was trampled under
foot, while the rod fell harmlessly upon the saddle bow, and the rest
turned to flee but were cut down and not a man of them escaped.
“Thou art indeed the good angel of my destiny,” said Ian; but he spake
not more at that time, as the fight was heavy upon him.
Then were the English guns turned upon the English host and fear got
hold of them, brave men though they were, for that they were taken
behind and before; and as they shook and hesitated the Duke with the
two hundred that were left to him charged toward them from the rear.
And Aline went ever at his side.
But the English horse made haste to come at him from far on their own
right, and take him in flank, or ever he closed with those on foot. And
as the English foot turned, some this way toward the Scottish horse,
and some that way toward the Scottish foot, a mighty shout arose in the
Scottish ranks as they closed with the English; “Now are they delivered
into our hands,” and they waxed ever more terrible till confusion fell
upon the men of England and the half of them broke and fled and thus
hindered the more part of their own horsemen from coming at the Duke.
So he fell upon the other half and victory came on a sudden into his
hands; for all the English were now in flight and the left wing of
their horse that would have taken the Duke in flank fled also.
And as he thanked God for his triumph he looked back and his heart
failed him, and he shuddered and his breath stood still, for Aline was
no longer to be seen, in that the grey horse had gone down at the last.
As he gazed his head swam and darkness came over him. Victory was his,
but Aline was lost. He calmed himself and held his spirit in check and
even as the wind races over the hills, his thoughts passed through him.
“The enemy is scattering on every side. My work for my country is done
and therefore may I now turn to that which concerneth my own life.”
There was not a moment to be let slip, the remnant of the right wing
of the foemen’s horse was still unbroken, and although too late now to
effect their purpose, yet, if so be that Aline were still alive, they
would pass over the very ground where she must be lying or ever a man
might run thither, however swiftly he sped.
He swung round and galloped apace, and there, dead upon the earth, was
the grey horse, and by it, on the side next the foe, lay stretched the
fair slim page still clutching the banner with the silver fesse.
“Surely it will be my own death,” he said, as the horsemen bore down
upon him. For an instant the thought unnerved him, but natheless he was
at her side. “What matter,” he cried, “the day is won, my work is done,
and, Aline dead, of what avail is life to me?”
He leaped from his horse. It was too late; even now they were upon him;
he might not lift her to the saddle and bear her away.
“Can I not break the tide with a barrier of slain steeds?” he said.
Then swift as the lightning flashes in the heavens, with his right arm
he swung her over her own dead horse, while with his left he raised a
fallen pike. He leaped back and kneeled before the horse, gripping the
pike full firmly, whose butt rested on the ground, while with his right
hand he drew forth a pistol from his holster.
On they came, they towered into the sky, the air was filled with their
shouting and the thunder of their hoofs. A single man! They heeded him
not.
He fired, and the horse that would have trampled him fell low. Neck and
croup over it rolled upon the ground and the horse behind, that strove
to leap above it, received the pike in its heart, while Ian narrowly
avoided destruction under the falling mass.
Then as a stream meets a boulder in its course and straightway divides
on either hand, so passed the warriors on the left and right.
The rider of the first fallen horse lay in the throes of death, but the
second rushed upon him with his sword so that the Duke had but scant
time to draw and defend himself, and the sword cleft the Duke’s helm
and the wound was deep.
Yet it was no long time they fought, for with swift skill the Duke
drove his sword throughout his body and he fell with a loud cry to the
ground, stretching his arms to heaven, and Ian drew out the steel and
with the blood the life rushed forth and black night covered his eyes.
But Ian, even as he did so, turned to where Aline lay, her face all
white amid the ruddy gold. He leaned above her. She was not dead, nor
even sorely hurt, but stunned and dazed and cut about and bruised.
He raised her with great tenderness and bore her from the scene of
carnage just as the evening fell. A cold breath blew upon his face
and he fancied he heard a voice that hissed--“Woe’s me, we are foiled;
it is on us the blow has fallen, even ere the darkness came. Too late,
too late.” At that moment the sun sank and the light vanished behind
the hills. The rout was now complete. Here and there a few individuals
made stand against their pursuers, while little groups of wounded men
were crying for succour. The haugh was littered with so many corpses
of those who had gone forth that morning in the healthful beauty of
their youth, that it was a sight most grievous to behold. Ian stumbled
with his burden. He himself had been twice sadly wounded again. Whither
should he go? There were no houses in sight.
He remembered, however, that the house of the Laird of Dalwhinnie was
only about two miles away. There was nowhere else to go, but both
the new wounds and the old were exceeding sore and it was with great
difficulty that he carried her.
He bore her to the foot of the hill and summoned four troopers, and
with their assistance mounted a horse. He would not let any one else
touch the child and, accompanied by the troopers, he rode to the house.
The laird was not a protestant, but Ian was graciously received and
offer was made to accommodate as many of the wounded as possible.
“You had liever pay special attention to those poor English varlets,”
said Ian. “There will be few to give them heed.”
The Lady smiled a sad smile and led the way to a beautifully appointed
room. “Your Grace has a wondrous fair child with you,” she said. “I
marvel not at your care for him. Is he sore hurt?”
“I trust not,” said Ian, as he laid Aline gently down. He dared not
let any one help him, lest Aline’s secret should be discovered; so he
dressed her wounds himself and put her to bed.