WAGER OF BATTLE
The knights had moved slowly out from their pavilions on either side,
and now stood waiting the order to charge. My Lord Maxwell sat by the
side of the Lady Sybilla, and held the truncheon, the casting down of
which was to part the combatants and end the fight. The three knights
on the southern or Earl's side were a singular contrast to their
opponents. Two of them, the Earl William and his cousin Hugh, were no
more than boys in years, though already old in military exercises; the
third, Alan Fleming of Cumbernauld, was a strong horseman and
excellent with his lance, though also slender of body and more
distinguished for dexterity than for power of arm. Yet he was destined
to lay a good lance in rest that day, and to come forth unshamed.
The Avondale party were to the eye infinitely the stronger, that is
when knights only were considered. For James Douglas was little less
than a giant. His jolly person and frank manners seemed to fill all
the field with good humour, and from his station he cried challenges
to his cousin the Earl and defiances to his brother Hugh, with that
broad rollicking wit which endeared him to the commons, to whom
"Mickle Lord Jamie" had long been a popular hero.
"Bid our Hugh there rin hame for his hippen clouts lest he make of
himself a shame," he cried; "'tis not fair that we should have to
fight with babes."
"Mayhap he will be as David to your Goliath, thou great gomeril!"
replied the Earl with equal good humour, seeing his cousin Hugh blush
and fumble uncomfortably at his arms.
Then to the lad himself he said: "Keep a light hand on your rein, a
good grip at the knee, and after the first shock we will ride round
them like swallows about so many bullocks."
The other two Avondale knights, William Douglas and the Marshal de
Retz, were also large men, and the latter especially, clothed in black
armour and with the royal ermines of Brittany quartered on his shield,
looked a stern and commanding figure.
The squires were well matched. These fought on foot, armed according
to custom with sword, axe, and dagger--though Sholto would much have
preferred to trust to his arrow skill even against the plate of the
knights.
The trumpets blew their warning from the judge's gallery. The six
opposing knights laid their lances in rest. The squires leaned a
little forward as if about to run a race. Lord Maxwell raised his
truncheon. The trumpets sounded again, and as their stirring
_taran-tara_ rang down the wide strath of Dee, the riders spurred
their horses into full career. It so chanced that, as they had stood,
James of Avondale was opposite the Earl, each being in the midst as
was their right as leaders. The Master of Avondale opposed his brother
Hugh, and the Marshal de Retz couched spear against young Alan
Fleming. In this order they started to ride their course. But at the
last moment, instead of riding straight for his man, the Frenchman
swerved to the left, and, raising his lance high in the air, he threw
it in the manner of his country straight at the visor bars of the
young Earl of Douglas. The spear of James of Avondale at the same time
taking him fair in the middle of his shield, the double assault caused
the young man to fall heavily from his saddle, so that the crash
sounded dully over the field.
"Treachery! Treachery!--A foul false stroke! A knave's device!" cried
nine-tenths of those who were crowded about the barriers. "Stop the
fight! Kill the Frenchman!"
"Not so," cried Lord Maxwell, "they were to fight as best they could,
and they must fight it to the end!"
And this being a decision not to be gainsaid, the combat proceeded on
very unequal terms. Sholto, who had been eagerly on the stretch to
match himself with the squire of James of Avondale, the young knight
of the Bass, found himself suddenly astride of his lord's body and
defending himself against both the French ambassador and his squire
Poitou, who had simultaneously crossed over to the attack. For the
Marshal de Retz, if not in complete defiance of the written rule of
chivalry, at least against the spirit of gallantry and the rules of
the present tourney, would have thrust the Earl through with his spear
as he lay, crying at the same time, "À outrance! À outrance!" to
excuse the foulness of his deed.
It was lucky for himself that he did not succeed, for, undoubtedly,
the Douglases then on the field would have torn him to pieces for what
they not unnaturally considered his treachery. As it was, there
sounded a mighty roar of anger all about the barriers, and the crowd
pressed so fiercely and threateningly that it was as much as the
archers could do to keep them within reasonable bounds.
"Saints' mercy!" puffed stout Ninian Halliburton, "let us get out of
this place. I am near bursen. Haud off there, varlet, ken ye not that
I am a Bailie of Dumfries? Keep your feet off the tail o' my brown
velvet gown. It cost nigh upon twenty silver shillings an ell!"
"A Douglas! A Douglas! Treachery! Treachery!" yelled a wild Minnigaff
man, thrusting a naked brand high into the air within an inch of the
burgess's nose. That worthy citizen almost fell backwards in dismay,
and indeed must have done so but for the pressure of the crowd behind
him. He was, therefore, much against his will compelled to keep his
place in the front rank of the spectators.
"Well done, young lad," cried the crowd, seeing Sholto ward and strike
at Poitou and his master, "God, but he is fechtin' like the black deil
himself!"
"It will be as chancy for him," cried the wild Minnigaff hillman, "for
I will tear the harrigals oot o' Sholto MacKim if onything happen to
the Earl!"
But the captain of the guard, light as a feather, had easily avoided
the thrust of the marshal's spear, taking it at an angle and turning
it aside with his shield. Then, springing up behind him, he pulled the
French knight down to the ground with the hook of his axe, by that
trick of attack which was the lesson taught once for all to the Scots
of the Lowlands upon the stricken field of the Red Harlaw.
The marshal fell heavily and lay still, for he was a man of feeble
body, and the weight of his armour very great.
"Slay him! Slay him!" yelled the people, still furious at what, not
without reason, they considered rank treachery.
Sholto recovered himself, and reached his master only in time to find
Poitou bending over Earl Douglas with a dagger in his hand.
With a wild yell he lashed out at the Breton squire, and Sholto's axe
striking fair on his steel cap, Poitou fell senseless across the body
of Douglas.
"Well done, Sholto MacKim--well done, lad!" came from all the barrier,
and even Ninian Halliburton cried: "Ye shall hae a silken doublet for
that!" Then, recollecting himself, he added, "At little mair than cost
price!"
"God in heeven, 'tis bonny fechtin!" cried the man from Minnigaff.
"Oh, if I could dirk the fause hound I wad dee happy!"
And the hillman danced on the toes of the Bailie of Dumfries and shook
the barriers with his hand till he received a rap over the knuckles
from the handle of a partisan directed by the stout arms of Andro the
Penman.
"Haud back there, heather-besom!" cried the archer, "gin ye want ever
again to taste 'braxy'!"
Over the rest of the field the fortune of war had been somewhat
various. William of Douglas had unhorsed his brother Hugh at the first
shock, but immediately foregoing his advantage with the most
chivalrous courtesy, he leaped from his own horse and drew his sword.
On the right Alan Fleming, being by the marshal's action suddenly
deprived of his opponent, had wheeled his charger and borne down
sideways upon James of Douglas, and that doughty champion, not having
fully recovered from the shock of his encounter with the Earl, and
being taken from an unexpected quarter, went down as much to his own
surprise as to that of the people at the barriers, who had looked upon
him as the strongest champion on the field.
It was evident, therefore, that, in spite of the loss of their leader,
the Earl's party stood every chance to win the field. For not only was
Alan Fleming the only knight left on horseback, but Malise MacKim had
disposed of the laird of Stra'ven, squire to William of Avondale,
having by one mighty axe stroke beaten the Lanarkshire man down to his
knees.
"A Douglas! A Douglas!" shouted the populace; "now let them have it!"
And the adherents of the Earl were proceeding to carry out this
intent, when my Lord Maxwell unexpectedly put an end to the combat by
throwing down his truncheon and proclaiming a drawn battle.
"False loon!" cried Sholto, shaking his axe at him in the extremity of
his anger, "we have beaten them fairly. Would that I could get at
thee! Come down and fight an encounter to the end. I will take any
Maxwell here in my shirt!"
"Hold your tongue!" commanded his father, briefly, "what else can ye
expect of a border man but broken faith?"
The archers of the guard rushed in, as was their duty, and separated
the remaining combatants. Hugh and his brother William fought it to
the last, the younger with all his vigour and with a fierce energy
born of his brother James's taunts, William with the calm courtesy and
forbearance of an old and assured knight towards one who has yet his
spurs to win.
The stunned knights and squires were conveyed to their several
pavilions, where the Earl's apothecaries were at once in attendance.
William of Douglas was the first to revive, which he did almost as
soon as the laces of his helm had been undone and water dashed upon
his face. His head still sang, he declared, like a hive of bees, but
that was all.
He bent with the anxiety of a generous enemy over the unconscious form
of the Marshal de Retz, from whom they were stripping his armour. At
the removal of the helmet, the strange parchment face with its
blue-black stubbly beard was seen to be more than usually pale and
drawn. The upper lip was retracted, and a set of long white teeth
gleamed like those of a wild beast.
The apothecary was just commencing to strip off the leathern
under-doublet from the ambassador's body to search for a wound, when
Poitou, his squire, happened to open his eyes. He had been laid upon
the floor, as the most seriously wounded of the combatants, though
being the least in honour he fell to be attended last.
Instantly he cried out a strange Breton word, unintelligible to all
present, and, leaping from the floor, he flung himself across the body
of his master, dashing aside the astonished apothecary, who had only
time to discern on the marshal's shoulder the scar of a recent
cautery before Poitou had restored the leathern under-doublet to its
place.
"Hands off! Do not touch my master. I alone can bring him to. Leave
the room, all of you."
"Sirrah!" cried the Earl, sternly, striding towards him, "I will teach
you to speak humbly to more honourable men."
"My lord," cried Poitou, instantly recalled to himself, "believe me, I
meant no ill. But true it is that I only can recover him. I have often
seen him taken thus. But I must be left alone. My master hath a
blemish upon him, and one great gentleman does not humiliate another
in the presence of underlings. My Lord Douglas, as you love honour,
bid all to leave me alone for a brief space."
"Much cared he for honour, when he threw the lance at my master!"
growled Sholto. "Had I known, I would have driven my bill-point six
inches lower, and then would there have been a most satisfactory
blemish in the joining of his neck-bone."