CHAPTER XVIII.

     Piobracht au Donuil-dhu,
     Piobrachet au Donuil,
     Piobrachet agus S'breittach
     Feacht an Innerlochy.

     The war-tune of Donald the Black,
     The war-tune of Black Donald,
     The pipes and the banner
     Are up in the rendezvous of Inverlochy.

The military road connecting the chains of forts, as it is called, and
running in the general line of the present Caledonian Canal, has now
completely opened the great glen, or chasm, extending almost across
the whole island, once doubtless filled by the sea, and still affording
basins for that long line of lakes, by means of which modern art has
united the German and Atlantic Oceans. The paths or tracks by which the
natives traversed this extensive valley, were, in 1645-6, in the same
situation as when they awaked the strain of an Irish engineer officer,
who had been employed in converting them into practicable military
roads, and whose eulogium begins, and, for aught I know, ends, as
follows:

Had you seen but these roads before they were made, You would have held
up your hands and bless'd General Wade.

But, bad as the ordinary paths were, Montrose avoided them, and led
his army, like a herd of wild deer, from mountain to mountain, and from
forest to forest, where his enemies could learn nothing of his motions,
while he acquired the most perfect knowledge respecting theirs from the
friendly clans of Cameron and M'Donnell, whose mountainous districts he
now traversed. Strict orders had been given that Argyle's advance should
be watched, and that all intelligence respecting his motions should be
communicated instantly to the General himself.

It was a moonlight night, and Montrose, worn out by the fatigues of
the day, was laid down to sleep in a miserable shieling. He had only
slumbered two hours, when some one touched his shoulder. He looked up,
and, by the stately form and deep voice, easily recognised the Chief of
the Camerons.

"I have news for you," said that leader, "which is worth while to arise
and listen to."

"M'Ilduy [Mhich-Connel Dhu, the descendant of Black Donald.] can
bring no other," said Montrose, addressing the Chief by his patronymic
title--"are they good or bad?"

"As you may take them," said the Chieftain.

"Are they certain?" demanded Montrose.

"Yes," answered M'Ilduy, "or another messenger should have brought them.
Know that, tired with the task imposed upon me of accompanying that
unhappy Dalgetty and his handful of horse, who detained me for hours
on the march at the pace of a crippled badger, I made a stretch of four
miles with six of my people in the direction of Inverlochy, and there
met with Ian of Glenroy, who had been out for intelligence. Argyle is
moving upon Inverlochy with three thousand chosen men, commanded by the
flower of the sons of Diarmid.--These are my news--they are certain--it
is for you to construe their purport."

"Their purport must be good," answered Montrose, readily and cheerfully;
"the voice of M'Ilduy is ever pleasant in the ears of Montrose, and most
pleasant when it speaks of some brave enterprise at hand--What are our
musters?"

He then called for light, and easily ascertained that a great part of
his followers having, as usual, dispersed to secure their booty, he had
not with him above twelve or fourteen hundred men.

"Not much above a third," said Montrose, pausing, "of Argyle's force,
and Highlanders opposed to Highlanders.--With the blessing of God upon
the royal cause, I would not hesitate were the odds but one to two."

"Then do not hesitate," said Cameron; "for when your trumpets shall
sound to attack M'Callum More, not a man of these glens will remain deaf
to the summons. Glengarry--Keppoch--I myself--would destroy, with
fire and sword, the wretch who should remain behind under any pretence
whatsoever. To-morrow, or the next day, shall be a day of battle to all
who bear the name of M'Donnell or Cameron, whatever be the event."

"It is gallantly said, my noble friend," said Montrose, grasping his
hand, "and I were worse than a coward did I not do justice to such
followers, by entertaining the most indubitable hopes of success. We
will turn back on this M'Callum More, who follows us like a raven to
devour the relics of our army, should we meet braver men who may be able
to break its strength! Let the Chiefs and leaders be called together as
quickly as possible; and you, who have brought us the first news of this
joyful event,--for such it shall be,--you, M'Ilduy, shall bring it to
a joyful issue, by guiding us the best and nearest road against our
enemy."

"That will I willingly do," said M'Ilduy; "if I have shown you paths by
which to retreat through these dusky wilds, with far more readiness will
I teach you how to advance against your foe."

A general bustle now prevailed, and the leaders were everywhere startled
from the rude couches on which they had sought temporary repose.

"I never thought," said Major Dalgetty, when summoned up from a handful
of rugged heather roots, "to have parted from a bed as hard as a
stable-broom with such bad will; but, indubitably, having but one man
of military experience in his army, his Excellency the Marquis may be
vindicated in putting him upon hard duty."

So saying, he repaired to the council, where, notwithstanding his
pedantry, Montrose seemed always to listen to him with considerable
attention; partly because the Major really possessed military knowledge
and experience, and often made suggestions which were found of
advantage, and partly because it relieved the General from the necessity
of deferring entirely to the opinion of the Highland Chiefs, and gave
him additional ground for disputing it when it was not agreeable to
his own. On the present occasion, Dalgetty joyfully acquiesced in the
proposal of marching back and confronting Argyle, which he compared to
the valiant resolution of the great Gustavus, who moved against the
Duke of Bavaria, and enriched his troops by the plunder of that fertile
country, although menaced from the northward by the large army which
Wallenstein had assembled in Bohemia.

The Chiefs of Glengarry, Keppoch, and Lochiel, whose clans, equal
in courage and military fame to any in the Highlands, lay within the
neighbourhood of the scene of action, dispatched the fiery cross through
their vassals, to summon every one who could bear arms to meet the
King's lieutenant, and to join the standards of their respective Chiefs,
as they marched towards Inverlochy. As the order was emphatically given,
it was speedily and willingly obeyed. Their natural love of war, their
zeal for the royal cause,--for they viewed the King in the light of
a chief whom his clansmen had deserted,--as well as their implicit
obedience to their own patriarch, drew in to Montrose's army not only
all in the neighbourhood who were able to bear arms, but some who, in
age at least, might have been esteemed past the use of them. During the
next day's march, which, being directed straight through the mountains
of Lochaber, was unsuspected by the enemy, his forces were augmented by
handfuls of men issuing from each glen, and ranging themselves under
the banners of their respective Chiefs. This was a circumstance highly
inspiriting to the rest of the army, who, by the time they approached
the enemy, found their strength increased considerably more than
one-fourth, as had been prophesied by the valiant leader of the
Camerons.

While Montrose executed this counter-march, Argyle had, at the head of
his gallant army, advanced up the southern side of Loch-Eil, and reached
the river Lochy, which combines that lake with Loch-Lochy. The ancient
Castle of Inverlochy, once, as it is said, a royal fortress, and still,
although dismantled, a place of some strength and consideration, offered
convenient head-quarters, and there was ample room for Argyle's army to
encamp around him in the valley, where the Lochy joins Loch-Eil. Several
barges had attended, loaded with provisions, so that they were in every
respect as well accommodated as such an army wished or expected to be.
Argyle, in council with Auchenbreck and Ardenvohr, expressed his full
confidence that Montrose was now on the brink of destruction; that his
troops must gradually diminish as he moved eastward through such uncouth
paths; that if he went westward, he must encounter Urrie and Baillie;
if northward, fall into the hands of Seaforth; or should he choose any
halting-place, he would expose himself to be attacked by three armies at
once.

"I cannot rejoice in the prospect, my lord," said Auchebreck, "that
James Grahame will be crushed with little assistance of ours. He has
left a heavy account in Argyleshire against him, and I long to reckon
with him drop of blood for drop of blood. I love not the payment of such
debts by third hands."

"You are too scrupulous," said Argyle; "what signifies it by whose
hands the blood of the Grahames is spilt? It is time that of the sons of
Diarmid should cease to flow.--What say you, Ardenvohr?"

"I say, my lord," replied Sir Duncan, "that I think Auchenbreck will
be gratified, and will himself have a personal opportunity of settling
accounts with Montrose for his depredations. Reports have reached our
outposts that the Camerons are assembling their full strength on the
skirts of Ben-Nevis; this must be to join the advance of Montrose, and
not to cover his retreat."

"It must be some scheme of harassing and depredation," said Argyle,
"devised by the inveterate malignity of M'Ilduy, which he terms
loyalty. They can intend no more than an attack on our outposts, or some
annoyance to to-morrow's march."

"I have sent out scouts," said Sir Duncan, "in every direction, to
procure intelligence; and we must soon hear whether they really do
assemble any force, upon what point, or with what purpose."

It was late ere any tidings were received; but when the moon had arisen,
a considerable bustle in the camp, and a noise immediately after heard
in the castle, announced the arrival of important intelligence. Of the
scouts first dispersed by Ardenvohr, some had returned without being
able to collect anything, save uncertain rumours concerning movements
in the country of the Camerons. It seemed as if the skirts of Ben-Nevis
were sending forth those unaccountable and portentous sounds with which
they sometimes announce the near approach of a storm. Others, whose zeal
carried them farther upon their mission, were entrapped and slain, or
made prisoners, by the inhabitants of the fastnesses into which they
endeavoured to penetrate. At length, on the rapid advance of Montrose's
army, his advanced guard and the outposts of Argyle became aware of each
other's presence, and after exchanging a few musket-shots and arrows,
fell back to their respective main bodies, to convey intelligence and
receive orders.

Sir Duncan Campbell, and Auchenbreck, instantly threw themselves on
horseback, in order to visit the state of the outposts; and Argyle
maintained his character of commander-in-chief with reputation, by
making a respectable arrangement of his forces in the plain, as it was
evident that they might now expect a night alarm, or an attack in the
morning at farthest. Montrose had kept his forces so cautiously within
the defiles of the mountain, that no effort which Auchenbreck or
Ardenvohr thought it prudent to attempt, could ascertain his probable
strength. They were aware, however, that, at the utmost computation, it
must be inferior to their own, and they returned to Argyle to inform
him of the amount of their observations; but that nobleman refused to
believe that Montrose could be in presence himself. He said, "It was
a madness, of which even James Grahame, in his height of presumptuous
frenzy, was incapable; and he doubted not that their march was only
impeded by their ancient enemies, Glencoe, Keppoch, and Glengarry; and
perhaps M'Vourigh, with his M'Phersons, might have assembled a force,
which he knew must be greatly inferior in numbers to his own, and
whom, therefore, he doubted not to disperse by force, or by terms of
capitulation."

The spirit of Argyle's followers was high, breathing vengeance for the
disasters which their country had so lately undergone; and the
night passed in anxious hopes that the morning might dawn upon their
vengeance. The outposts of either army kept a careful watch, and the
soldiers of Argyle slept in the order of battle which they were next day
to occupy.

A pale dawn had scarce begun to tinge the tops of these immense
mountains, when the leaders of both armies prepared for the business of
the day. It was the second of February, 1645-6. The clansmen of Argyle
were arranged in two lines, not far from the angle between the river
and the lake, and made an appearance equally resolute and formidable.
Auchenbreck would willingly have commenced the battle by an attack
on the outposts of the enemy, but Argyle, with more cautious policy,
preferred receiving to making the onset. Signals were soon heard,
that they would not long wait for it in vain. The Campbells could
distinguish, in the gorge of the mountains, the war-tunes of various
clans as they advanced to the onset. That of the Camerons, which bears
the ominous words, addressed to the wolves and ravens, "Come to me, and
I will give you flesh," was loudly re-echoed from their native glens. In
the language of the Highland bards, the war voice of Glengarry was
not silent; and the gathering tunes of other tribes could be plainly
distinguished, as they successively came up to the extremity of the
passes from which they were to descend into the plain.

"You see," said Argyle to his kinsmen, "it is as I said, we have only to
deal with our neighbours; James Grahame has not ventured to show us his
banner."

At this moment there resounded from the gorge of the pass a lively
flourish of trumpets, in that note with which it was the ancient
Scottish fashion to salute the royal standard.

"You may hear, my lord, from yonder signal," said Sir Duncan Campbell,
"that he who pretends to be the King's Lieutenant, must be in person
among these men."

"And has probably horse with him," said Auchenbreck, "which I could not
have anticipated. But shall we look pale for that, my lord, when we have
foes to fight, and wrongs to revenge?"

Argyle was silent, and looked upon his arm, which hung in a sash, owing
to a fall which he had sustained in a preceding march.

"It is true," interrupted Ardenvohr, eagerly, "my Lord of Argyle, you
are disabled from using either sword or pistol; you must retire on board
the galleys--your life is precious to us as a head--your hand cannot be
useful to us as a soldier."

"No," said Argyle, pride contending with irresolution, "it shall never
be said that I fled before Montrose; if I cannot fight, I will at least
die in the midst of my children."

Several other principal Chiefs of the Campbells, with one voice,
conjured and obtested their Chieftain to leave them for that day to the
leading of Ardenvohr and Auchenbreck, and to behold the conflict from a
distance and in safety.--We dare not stigmatize Argyle with poltroonery;
for, though his life was marked by no action of bravery, yet he behaved
with so much composure and dignity in the final and closing scene, that
his conduct upon the present and similar occasions, should be rather
imputed to indecision than to want of courage. But when the small still
voice within a man's own breast, which tells him that his life is of
consequence to himself, is seconded by that of numbers around him, who
assure him that it is of equal advantage to the public, history affords
many examples of men more habitually daring than Argyle, who have
consulted self-preservation when the temptations to it were so
powerfully increased.

"See him on board, if you will, Sir Duncan," said Auchenbreck to his
kinsman; "It must be my duty to prevent this spirit from spreading
farther among us."

So saying, he threw himself among the ranks, entreating, commanding, and
conjuring the soldiers, to remember their ancient fame and their present
superiority; the wrongs they had to revenge, if successful, and the fate
they had to dread, if vanquished; and imparting to every bosom a portion
of the fire which glowed in his own. Slowly, meanwhile, and apparently
with reluctance, Argyle suffered himself to be forced by his officious
kinsmen to the verge of the lake, and was transported on board of a
galley, from the deck of which he surveyed with more safety than credit
the scene which ensued.

Sir Duncan Campbell of Ardenvohr, notwithstanding the urgency of
the occasion, stood with his eyes riveted on the boat which bore his
Chieftain from the field of battle. There were feelings in his bosom
which could not be expressed; for the character of a Chief was that of
a father, and the heart of a clansman durst not dwell upon his failings
with critical severity as upon those of other men. Argyle, too, harsh
and severe to others, was generous and liberal among his kinsmen, and
the noble heart of, Ardenvohr was wrung with bitter anguish, when he
reflected to what interpretation his present conduct might subject him.

"It is better it should be so," said he to himself, devouring his own
emotion; "but--of his line of a hundred sires, I know not one who would
have retired while the banner of Diarmid waved in the wind, in the face
of its most inveterate foes!"

A loud shout now compelled him to turn, and to hasten with all dispatch
to his post, which was on the right flank of Argyle's little army.

The retreat of Argyle had not passed unobserved by his watchful enemy,
who, occupying the superior ground, could mark every circumstance which
passed below. The movement of three or four horsemen to the rear showed
that those who retreated were men of rank.

"They are going," said Dalgetty, "to put their horses out of danger,
like prudent cavaliers. Yonder goes Sir Duncan Campbell, riding a brown
bay gelding, which I had marked for my own second charger."

"You are wrong, Major," said Montrose, with a bitter smile, "they are
saving their precious Chief--Give the signal for assault instantly--send
the word through the ranks.--Gentlemen, noble Chiefs, Glengarry,
Keppoch, M'Vourigh, upon them instantly!--Ride to M'Ilduy, Major
Dalgetty, and tell him to charge as he loves Lochaber--return and bring
our handful of horse to my standard. They shall be placed with the Irish
as a reserve."



CHAPTER XIX.

     As meets a rock a thousand waves, so Inisfail met Lochlin.
     --OSSIAN.

The trumpets and bagpipes, those clamorous harbingers of blood and
death, at once united in the signal for onset, which was replied to
by the cry of more than two thousand warriors, and the echoes of the
mountain glens behind them. Divided into three bodies, or columns,
the Highland followers of Montrose poured from the defiles which had
hitherto concealed them from their enemies, and rushed with the utmost
determination upon the Campbells, who waited their charge with the
greatest firmness. Behind these charging columns marched in line the
Irish, under Colkitto, intended to form the reserve. With them was the
royal standard, and Montrose himself; and on the flanks were about fifty
horse, under Dalgetty, which by wonderful exertions had been kept in
some sort fit for service.

The right column of Royalists was led by Glengarry, the left by Lochiel,
and the centre by the Earl of Menteith, who preferred fighting on foot
in a Highland dress to remaining with the cavalry.

The Highlanders poured on with the proverbial fury of their country,
firing their guns, and discharging their arrows, at a little distance
from the enemy, who received the assault with the most determined
gallantry. Better provided with musketry than their enemies, stationary
also, and therefore taking the more decisive aim, the fire of Argyle's
followers was more destructive than that which they sustained. The royal
clans, perceiving this, rushed to close quarters, and succeeded on two
points in throwing their enemies into disorder. With regular troops
this must have achieved a victory; but here Highlanders were opposed to
Highlanders, and the nature of the weapons, as well as the agility of
those who wielded them, was equal on both sides.

Their strife was accordingly desperate; and the clash of the swords
and axes, as they encountered each other, or rung upon the targets, was
mingled with the short, wild, animating shrieks with which Highlanders
accompany the battle, the dance, or indeed violent exertion of any kind.
Many of the foes opposed were personally acquainted, and sought to match
themselves with each other from motives of hatred, or a more generous
emulation of valour. Neither party would retreat an inch, while the
place of those who fell (and they fell fast on both sides) was eagerly
supplied by others, who thronged to the front of danger. A steam, like
that which arises from a seething cauldron, rose into the thin, cold,
frosty air, and hovered above the combatants.

So stood the fight on the right and the centre, with no immediate
consequence, except mutual wounds and death.

On the right of the Campbells, the Knight of Ardenvohr obtained some
advantage, through his military skill and by strength of numbers. He had
moved forward obliquely the extreme flank of his line at the instant the
Royalists were about to close, so that they sustained a fire at once
on front and in flank, and, despite the utmost efforts of their leader,
were thrown into some confusion. At this instant, Sir Duncan Campbell
gave the word to charge, and thus unexpectedly made the attack at
the very moment he seemed about to receive it. Such a change of
circumstances is always discouraging, and often fatal. But the disorder
was remedied by the advance of the Irish reserve, whose heavy and
sustained fire compelled the Knight of Ardenvohr to forego his
advantage, and content himself with repulsing the enemy. The Marquis
of Montrose, in the meanwhile, availing himself of some scattered birch
trees, as well as of the smoke produced by the close fire of the Irish
musketry, which concealed the operation, called upon Dalgetty to follow
him with the horse, and wheeling round so as to gain the right flank and
even the rear of the enemy, he commanded his six trumpets to sound
the charge. The clang of the cavalry trumpets, and the noise of the
galloping of the horse, produced an effect upon Argyle's right wing
which no other sounds could have impressed them with. The mountaineers
of that period had a superstitious dread of the war-horse, like that
entertained by the Peruvians, and had many strange ideas respecting the
manner in which that animal was trained to combat. When, therefore, they
found their ranks unexpectedly broken, and that the objects of their
greatest terror were suddenly in the midst of them, the panic, in spite
of Sir Duncan's attempts to stop it, became universal. Indeed, the
figure of Major Dalgetty alone, sheathed in impenetrable armour, and
making his horse caracole and bound, so as to give weight to every
blow which he struck, would have been a novelty in itself sufficient to
terrify those who had never seen anything more nearly resembling such
a cavalier, than a SHELTY waddling under a Highlander far bigger than
itself. The repulsed Royalists returned to the charge; the Irish,
keeping their ranks, maintained a fire equally close and destructive.
There was no sustaining the fight longer. Argyle's followers began
to break and fly, most towards the lake, the remainder in different
directions. The defeat of the right wing, of itself decisive, was
rendered irreparable by the death of Auchenbreck, who fell while
endeavouring to restore order.

The Knight of Ardenvohr, with two or three hundred men, all gentlemen of
descent and distinguished gallantry,--for the Campbells are supposed to
have had more gentlemen in their ranks than any of the Highland clans,
endeavoured, with unavailing heroism, to cover the tumultuary retreat
of the common file. Their resolution only proved fatal to themselves,
as they were charged again and again by fresh adversaries, and forced to
separate from each other, until at length their aim seemed only to be to
purchase an honourable death by resisting to the very last.

"Good quarter, Sir Duncan," called out Major Dalgetty, when he
discovered his late host, with one or two others, defending himself
against several Highlanders; and, to enforce his offer, he rode up to
him with his sword uplifted. Sir Duncan's reply was the discharge of a
reserved pistol, which took effect not on the person of the rider, but
on that of his gallant horse, which, shot through the heart, fell dead
under him. Ranald MacEagh, who was one of those who had been pressing
Sir Duncan hard, took the opportunity to cut him down with his
broadsword, as he turned from him in the act of firing the pistol.

Allan M'Aulay came up at this moment. They were, excepting Ranald,
followers of his brother who were engaged on that part of the field,
"Villains!" he said, "which of you has dared to do this, when it was my
positive order that the Knight of Ardenvohr should be taken alive?"

Half-a-dozen of busy hands, which were emulously employed in plundering
the fallen knight, whose arms and accoutrements were of a magnificence
befitting his quality, instantly forbore the occupation, and half the
number of voices exculpated themselves, by laying the blame on the
Skyeman, as they called Ranald MacEagh.

"Dog of an Islander!" said Allan, forgetting, in his wrath, their
prophetic brotherhood, "follow the chase, and harm him no farther,
unless you mean to die by my hand." They were at this moment left almost
alone; for Allan's threats had forced his own clan from the spot, and
all around had pressed onwards toward the lake, carrying before them
noise, terror, and confusion, and leaving behind only the dead and
dying. The moment was tempting to MacEagh's vengeful spirit.--"That I
should die by your hand, red as it is with the blood of my kindred,"
said he, answering the threat of Allan in a tone as menacing as his own,
"is not more likely than that you should fall by mine." With that, he
struck at M'Aulay with such unexpected readiness, that he had scarce
time to intercept the blow with his target.

"Villain!" said Allan, in astonishment, "what means this?"

"I am Ranald of the Mist!" answered the Islesman, repeating the blow;
and with that word, they engaged in close and furious conflict. It
seemed to be decreed, that in Allan M'Aulay had arisen the avenger of
his mother's wrongs upon this wild tribe, as was proved by the issue of
the present, as well as of former combats. After exchanging a few blows,
Ranald MacEagh was prostrated by a deep wound on the skull; and M'Aulay,
setting his foot on him, was about to pass the broadsword through his
body, when the point of the weapon was struck up by a third party,
who suddenly interposed. This was no other than Major Dalgetty, who,
stunned by the fall, and encumbered by the dead body of his horse, had
now recovered his legs and his understanding. "Hold up your sword," said
he to M'Aulay, "and prejudice this person no farther, in respect that
he is here in my safeconduct, and in his Excellency's service; and in
regard that no honourable cavalier is at liberty, by the law martial, to
avenge his own private injuries, FLAGRANTE BELLO, MULTO MAJUS FLAGRANTE
PRAELIO."

"Fool!" said Allan, "stand aside, and dare not to come between the tiger
and his prey!"

But, far from quitting his point, Dalgetty stept across the fallen body
of MacEagh, and gave Allan to understand, that if he called himself
a tiger, he was likely, at present, to find a lion in his path. There
required no more than the gesture and tone of defiance to turn the whole
rage of the military Seer against the person who was opposing the course
of his vengeance, and blows were instantly exchanged without farther
ceremony.

The strife betwixt Allan and MacEagh had been unnoticed by the
stragglers around, for the person of the latter was known to few of
Montrose's followers; but the scuffle betwixt Dalgetty and him, both so
well known, attracted instant attention; and fortunately, among others,
that of Montrose himself, who had come for the purpose of gathering
together his small body of horse, and following the pursuit down
Loch-Eil. Aware of the fatal consequences of dissension in his little
army, he pushed his horse up to the spot, and seeing MacEagh on the
ground, and Dalgetty in the attitude of protecting him against M'Aulay,
his quick apprehension instantly caught the cause of quarrel, and as
instantly devised means to stop it. "For shame," he said, "gentlemen
cavaliers, brawling together in so glorious a field of victory!--Are you
mad? Or are you intoxicated with the glory which you have both this day
gained?"

"It is not my fault, so please your Excellency," said Dalgetty. "I
have been known a BONUS SOCIUS, A BON CAMARADO, in all the services of
Europe; but he that touches a man under my safeguard--"

"And he," said Allan, speaking at the same time, "who dares to bar the
course of my just vengeance--"

"For shame, gentlemen!" again repeated Montrose; "I have other business
for you both,--business of deeper importance than any private quarrel,
which you may easily find a more fitting time to settle. For you, Major
Dalgetty, kneel down."

"Kneel!" said Dalgetty; "I have not learned to obey that word of
command, saving when it is given from the pulpit. In the Swedish
discipline, the front rank do indeed kneel, but only when the regiment
is drawn up six file deep."

"Nevertheless," repeated Montrose,--"kneel down, in the name of King
Charles and of his representative."

When Dalgetty reluctantly obeyed, Montrose struck him lightly on the
neck with the flat of his sword, saying,--"In reward of the gallant
service of this day, and in the name and authority of our Sovereign,
King Charles, I dub thee knight; be brave, loyal, and fortunate. And
now, Sir Dugald Dalgetty, to your duty. Collect what horsemen you can,
and pursue such of the enemy as are flying down the side of the lake. Do
not disperse your force, nor venture too far; but take heed to prevent
their rallying, which very little exertion may do. Mount, then, Sir
Dugald, and do your duty."

"But what shall I mount?" said the new-made chevalier. "Poor Gustavus
sleeps in the bed of honour, like his immortal namesake! and I am made a
knight, a rider, as the High Dutch have it, just when I have not a horse
left to ride upon." [In German, as in Latin, the original meaning of the
word Ritter, corresponding to Eques, is merely a horseman.]

"That shall not be said," answered Montrose, dismounting; "I make you a
present of my own, which has been thought a good one; only, I pray you,
resume the duty you discharge so well."

With many acknowledgments, Sir Dugald mounted the steed so liberally
bestowed upon him; and only beseeching his Excellency to remember that
MacEagh was under his safe-conduct, immediately began to execute the
orders assigned to him, with great zeal and alacrity.

"And you, Allan M'Aulay," said Montrose, addressing the Highlander, who,
leaning his sword-point on the ground, had regarded the ceremony of his
antagonist's knighthood with a sneer of sullen scorn,--"you, who are
superior to the ordinary men led by the paltry motives of plunder, and
pay, and personal distinction,--you, whose deep knowledge renders you so
valuable a counsellor,--is it YOU whom I find striving with a man like
Dalgetty, for the privilege of trampling the remains of life out of so
contemptible an enemy as lies there? Come, my friend, I have other work
for you. This victory, skilfully improved, shall win Seaforth to our
party. It is not disloyalty, but despair of the good cause, that has
induced him to take arms against us. These arms, in this moment of
better augury, he may be brought to unite with ours. I shall send my
gallant friend, Colonel Hay, to him, from this very field of battle,
but he must be united in commission with a Highland gentleman of rank,
befitting that of Seaforth, and of talents and of influence such as
may make an impression upon him. You are not only in every respect
the fittest for this most important mission, but, having no immediate
command, your presence may be more easily spared than that of a Chief
whose following is in the field. You know every pass and glen in
the Highlands, as well as the manners and customs of every tribe. Go
therefore to Hay, on the right wing; he has instructions, and expects
you. You will find him with Glenmorrison's men; be his guide, his
interpreter, and his colleague."

Allan M'Aulay bent on the Marquis a dark and penetrating glance, as
if to ascertain whether this sudden mission was not conferred for some
latent and unexplained purpose. But Montrose, skilful in searching
the motives of others, was an equal adept in concealing his own. He
considered it as of the last consequence, in this moment of enthusiasm
and exalted passion, to remove Allan from the camp for a few days, that
he might provide, as his honour required, for the safety of those
who had acted as his guides, when he trusted the Seer's quarrel with
Dalgetty might be easily made up. Allan, at parting, only recommended
to the Marquis the care of Sir Duncan Campbell, whom Montrose instantly
directed to be conveyed to a place of safety. He took the same
precaution for MacEagh, committing the latter, however, to a party of
the Irish, with directions that he should be taken care of, but that no
Highlander, of any clan, should have access to him.

The Marquis then mounted a led horse, which was held by one of his
attendants, and rode on to view the scene of his victory, which was more
decisive than even his ardent hopes had anticipated. Of Argyle's gallant
army of three thousand men, fully one-half fell in the battle, or in the
flight. They had been chiefly driven back upon that part of the plain
where the river forms an angle with the lake, so that there was no free
opening either for retreat or escape. Several hundreds were forced
into the lake and drowned. Of the survivors, about one-half escaped by
swimming the river, or by an early flight along the left bank of the
lake. The remainder threw themselves into the old Castle of Inverlochy;
but being without either provisions or hopes of relief, they were
obliged to surrender, on condition of being suffered to return to their
homes in peace. Arms, ammunition, standards, and baggage, all became the
prey of the conquerors.

This was the greatest disaster that ever befell the race of Diarmid, as
the Campbells were called in the Highlands; it being generally remarked
that they were as fortunate in the issue of their undertakings, as they
were sagacious in planning, and courageous in executing them. Of the
number slain, nearly five hundred were dunniwassels, or gentlemen
claiming descent from known and respected houses. And, in the opinion
of many of the clan, even this heavy loss was exceeded by the disgrace
arising from the inglorious conduct of their Chief, whose galley weighed
anchor when the day was lost, and sailed down the lake with all the
speed to which sails and oars could impel her.



CHAPTER XX.

     Faint the din of battle bray'd,
     Distant down the hollow wind;
     War and terror fled before,
     Wounds and death remain'd behind.--PENROSE.

Montrose's splendid success over his powerful rival was not attained
without some loss, though not amounting to the tenth of what he
inflicted. The obstinate valour of the Campbells cost the lives of many
brave men of the opposite party; and more were wounded, the Chief of
whom was the brave young Earl of Menteith, who had commanded the centre.
He was but slightly touched, however, and made rather a graceful than
a terrible appearance when he presented to his general the standard of
Argyle, which he had taken from the standard-bearer with his own hand,
and slain him in single combat. Montrose dearly loved his noble kinsman,
in whom there was conspicuous a flash of the generous, romantic,
disinterested chivalry of the old heroic times, entirely different from
the sordid, calculating, and selfish character, which the practice of
entertaining mercenary troops had introduced into most parts of Europe,
and of which degeneracy Scotland, which furnished soldiers of fortune
for the service of almost every nation, had been contaminated with a
more than usual share. Montrose, whose native spirit was congenial,
although experience had taught him how to avail himself of the motives
of others, used to Menteith neither the language of praise nor of
promise, but clasped him to his bosom as he exclaimed, "My gallant
kinsman!" And by this burst of heartfelt applause was Menteith thrilled
with a warmer glow of delight, than if his praises had been recorded in
a report of the action sent directly to the throne of his sovereign.

"Nothing," he said, "my lord, now seems to remain in which I can render
any assistance; permit me to look after a duty of humanity--the Knight
of Ardenvohr, as I am told, is our prisoner, and severely wounded."

"And well he deserves to be so," said Sir Dugald Dalgetty, who came
up to them at that moment with a prodigious addition of acquired
importance, "since he shot my good horse at the time that I was offering
him honourable quarter, which, I must needs say, was done more like an
ignorant Highland cateran, who has not sense enough to erect a sconce
for the protection of his old hurley-house of a castle, than like a
soldier of worth and quality."

"Are we to condole with you then," said Lord Menteith, "upon the loss of
the famed Gustavus?"

"Even so, my lord," answered the soldier, with a deep sigh, "DIEM
CLAUSIT SUPREMUM, as we said at the Mareschal-College of Aberdeen.
Better so than be smothered like a cadger's pony in some flow-moss,
or snow-wreath, which was like to be his fate if this winter campaign
lasted longer. But it has pleased his Excellency" (making an inclination
to Montrose) "to supply his place by the gift of a noble steed, whom
I have taken the freedom to name 'LOYALTY'S REWARD,' in memory of this
celebrated occasion."

"I hope," said the Marquis, "you'll find Loyalty's Reward, since you
call him so, practised in all the duties of the field,--but I must just
hint to you, that at this time, in Scotland, loyalty is more frequently
rewarded with a halter than with a horse."

"Ahem! your Excellency is pleased to be facetious. Loyalty's Reward is
as perfect as Gustavus in all his exercises, and of a far finer figure.
Marry! his social qualities are less cultivated, in respect he has kept
till now inferior company."

"Not meaning his Excellency the General, I hope," said Lord Menteith.
"For shame, Sir Dugald!"

"My lord," answered the knight gravely, "I am incapable to mean anything
so utterly unbecoming. What I asseverate is, that his Excellency, having
the same intercourse with his horse during his exercise, that he hath
with his soldiers when training them, may form and break either to every
feat of war which he chooses to practise, and accordingly that this
noble charger is admirably managed. But as it is the intercourse of
private life that formeth the social character, so I do not apprehend
that of the single soldier to be much polished by the conversation of
the corporal or the sergeant, or that of Loyalty's Reward to have been
much dulcified, or ameliorated, by the society of his Excellency's
grooms, who bestow more oaths, and kicks, and thumps, than kindness or
caresses, upon the animals intrusted to their charge; whereby many a
generous quadruped, rendered as it were misanthropic, manifests during
the rest of his life a greater desire to kick and bite his master, than
to love and to honour him."

"Spoken like an oracle," said Montrose. "Were there an academy for the
education of horses to be annexed to the Mareschal-College of Aberdeen,
Sir Dugald Dalgetty alone should fill the chair."

"Because, being an ass," said Menteith, aside to the General, "there
would be some distant relation between the professor and the students."

"And now, with your Excellency's permission," said the new-made knight,
"I am going to pay my last visit to the remains of my old companion in
arms."

"Not with the purpose of going through the ceremonial of interment?"
said the Marquis, who did not know how far Sir Dugald's enthusiasm might
lead him; "consider our brave fellows themselves will have but a hasty
burial."

"Your Excellency will pardon me," said Dalgetty; "my purpose is less
romantic. I go to divide poor Gustavus's legacy with the fowls of
heaven, leaving the flesh to them, and reserving to myself his hide;
which, in token of affectionate remembrance, I purpose to form into
a cassock and trowsers, after the Tartar fashion, to be worn under my
armour, in respect my nether garments are at present shamefully the
worse of the wear.--Alas! poor Gustavus, why didst thou not live at
least one hour more, to have borne the honoured weight of knighthood
upon thy loins!"

He was now turning away, when the Marquis called after him,--"As you
are not likely to be anticipated in this act of kindness, Sir Dugald,
to your old friend and companion, I trust," said the Marquis, "you will
first assist me, and our principal friends, to discuss some of Argyle's
good cheer, of which we have found abundance in the Castle."

"Most willingly, please your Excellency," said Sir Dugald; "as meat
and mass never hinder work. Nor, indeed, am I afraid that the wolves or
eagles will begin an onslaught on Gustavus to-night, in regard there is
so much better cheer lying all around. But," added he, "as I am to meet
two honourable knights of England, with others of the knightly degree in
your lordship's army, I pray it may be explained to them, that now, and
in future, I claim precedence over them all, in respect of my rank as a
Banneret, dubbed in a field of stricken battle."

"The devil confound him!" said Montrose, speaking aside; "he has
contrived to set the kiln on fire as fast as I put it out.--'This is
a point, Sir Dugald," said he, gravely addressing him, "which I shall
reserve for his Majesty's express consideration; in my camp, all must
be upon equality, like the Knights of the Round Table; and take their
places as soldiers should, upon the principle of,--first come, first
served."

"Then I shall take care," said Menteith, apart to the Marquis, "that Don
Dugald is not first in place to-day.--Sir Dugald," added he, raising his
voice, "as you say your wardrobe is out of repair, had you not better go
to the enemy's baggage yonder, over which there is a guard placed? I saw
them take out an excellent buff suit, embroidered in front in silk and
silver."

"VOTO A DIOS! as the Spaniard says," exclaimed the Major, "and some
beggarly gilly may get it while I stand prating here!"

The prospect of booty having at once driven out of his head both
Gustavus and the provant, he set spurs to Loyalty's Reward, and rode off
through the field of battle.

"There goes the hound," said Menteith, "breaking the face, and trampling
on the body, of many a better man than himself; and as eager on his
sordid spoil as a vulture that stoops upon carrion. Yet this man the
world calls a soldier--and you, my lord, select him as worthy of the
honours of chivalry, if such they can at this day be termed. You have
made the collar of knighthood the decoration of a mere bloodhound."

"What could I do?" said Montrose. "I had no half-picked bones to give
him, and bribed in some manner he must be,--I cannot follow the chase
alone. Besides, the dog has good qualities."

"If nature has given him such," said Menteith, "habit has converted them
into feelings of intense selfishness. He may be punctilious concerning
his reputation, and brave in the execution of his duty, but it is only
because without these qualities he cannot rise in the service;--nay, his
very benevolence is selfish; he may defend his companion while he can
keep his feet, but the instant he is down, Sir Dugald will be as ready
to ease him of his purse, as he is to convert the skin of Gustavus into
a buff jerkin."

"And yet, if all this were true, cousin," answered Montrose, "there is
something convenient in commanding a soldier, upon whose motives and
springs of action you can calculate to a mathematical certainty. A fine
spirit like yours, my cousin, alive to a thousand sensations to which
this man's is as impervious as his corslet,--it is for such that thy
friend must feel, while he gives his advice." Then, suddenly changing
his tone, he asked Menteith when he had seen Annot Lyle.

The young Earl coloured deeply, and answered, "Not since last
evening,--excepting," he added, with hesitation, "for one moment, about
half an hour before the battle began."

"My dear Menteith," said Montrose, very kindly, "were you one of the gay
cavaliers of Whitehall, who are, in their way, as great self-seekers
as our friend Dalgetty, should I need to plague you with enquiring into
such an amourette as this? it would be an intrigue only to be laughed
at. But this is the land of enchantment, where nets strong as steel are
wrought out of ladies' tresses, and you are exactly the destined knight
to be so fettered. This poor girl is exquisitely beautiful, and has
talents formed to captivate your romantic temper. You cannot think of
injuring her--you cannot think of marrying her?"

"My lord," replied Menteith, "you have repeatedly urged this jest, for
so I trust it is meant, somewhat beyond bounds. Annot Lyle is of unknown
birth,--a captive,--the daughter, probably, of some obscure outlaw; a
dependant on the hospitality of the M'Aulays."

"Do not be angry, Menteith," said the Marquis, interrupting him; "you
love the classics, though not educated at Mareschal-College; and you may
remember how many gallant hearts captive beauty has subdued:--

     Movit Ajacem, Telamone natum,
     Forma captivae dominum Tecmessae.

In a word, I am seriously anxious about this--I should not have time,
perhaps," he added very gravely, "to trouble you with my lectures on the
subject, were your feelings, and those of Annot, alone interested; but
you have a dangerous rival in Allan M'Aulay; and there is no knowing to
what extent he may carry his resentment. It is my duty to tell you that
the King's service may be much prejudiced by dissensions betwixt you."

"My lord," said Menteith, "I know what you mean is kind and friendly; I
hope you will be satisfied when I assure you, that Allan M'Aulay and I
have discussed this circumstance; and that I have explained to him, that
it is utterly remote from my character to entertain dishonourable views
concerning this unprotected female; so, on the other hand, the obscurity
of her birth prevents my thinking of her upon other terms. I will
not disguise from your lordship, what I have not disguised from
M'Aulay,--that if Annot Lyle were born a lady, she should share my name
and rank; as matters stand, it is impossible. This explanation, I
trust, will satisfy your lordship, as it has satisfied a less reasonable
person."

Montrose shrugged his shoulders. "And, like true champions in romance,"
he said, "you have agreed, that you are both to worship the same
mistress, as idolaters do the same image, and that neither shall extend
his pretensions farther?"

"I did not go so far, my lord," answered Menteith--"I only said in
the present circumstances--and there is no prospect of their being
changed,--I could, in duty to myself and family, stand in no relation
to Annot Lyle, but as that of friend or brother--But your lordship must
excuse me; I have," said he, looking at his arm, round which he had tied
his handkerchief, "a slight hurt to attend to."

"A wound?" said Montrose, anxiously; "let me see it.--Alas!" he said, "I
should have heard nothing of this, had I not ventured to tent and sound
another more secret and more rankling one, Menteith; I am sorry for
you--I too have known--But what avails it to awake sorrows which have
long slumbered!"

So saying, he shook hands with his noble kinsman, and walked into the
castle.

Annot Lyle, as was not unusual for females in the Highlands, was
possessed of a slight degree of medical and even surgical skill. It may
readily be believed, that the profession of surgery, or medicine, as a
separate art, was unknown; and the few rude rules which they observed
were intrusted to women, or to the aged, whom constant casualties
afforded too much opportunity of acquiring experience. The care and
attention, accordingly, of Annot Lyle, her attendants, and others acting
under her direction, had made her services extremely useful during this
wild campaign. And most readily had these services been rendered to
friend and foe, wherever they could be most useful. She was now in an
apartment of the castle, anxiously superintending the preparation of
vulnerary herbs, to be applied to the wounded; receiving reports from
different females respecting those under their separate charge, and
distributing what means she had for their relief, when Allan M'Aulay
suddenly entered the apartment. She started, for she had heard that he
had left the camp upon a distant mission; and, however accustomed she
was to the gloom of his countenance, it seemed at present to have even
a darker shade than usual. He stood before her perfectly silent, and she
felt the necessity of being the first to speak.

"I thought," she said, with some effort, "you had already set out."

"My companion awaits me," said Allan; "I go instantly." Yet still he
stood before her, and held her by the arm, with a pressure which, though
insufficient to give her pain, made her sensible of his great personal
strength, his hand closing on her like the gripe of a manacle.

"Shall I take the harp?" she said, in a timid voice; "is--is the shadow
falling upon you?"

Instead of replying, he led her to the window of the apartment, which
commanded a view of the field of the slain, with all its horrors. It was
thick spread with dead and wounded, and the spoilers were busy tearing
the clothes from the victims of war and feudal ambition, with as much
indifference as if they had not been of the same species, and themselves
exposed, perhaps to-morrow, to the same fate.