"Weel, that's just my mind too, aye supposing we hae a feasible
opportunity o' breaking loose. But then ye speak o' a charter; now these
are things that only belang to the like o' you that are a gentleman, and
it mightna bear me through that am but a husbandman."

"The charter that I speak of," said Morton, "is common to the meanest
Scotchman. It is that freedom from stripes and bondage which was claimed,
as you may read in Scripture, by the Apostle Paul himself, and which
every man who is free-born is called upon to defend, for his own sake and
that of his countrymen."

"Hegh, sirs!" replied Cuddie, "it wad hae been lang or my Leddy Margaret,
or my mither either, wad hae fund out sic a wiselike doctrine in the
Bible! The tane was aye graning about giving tribute to Caesar, and the
tither is as daft wi' her whiggery. I hae been clean spoilt, just wi'
listening to twa blethering auld wives; but if I could get a gentleman
that wad let me tak on to be his servant, I am confident I wad be a clean
contrary creature; and I hope your honour will think on what I am saying,
if ye were ance fairly delivered out o' this house of bondage, and just
take me to be your ain wally-de-shamble."

"My valet, Cuddie?" answered Morton; "alas! that would be sorry
preferment, even if we were at liberty."

"I ken what ye're thinking--that because I am landward-bred, I wad be
bringing ye to disgrace afore folk; but ye maun ken I'm gay gleg at the
uptak; there was never ony thing dune wi' hand but I learned gay readily,
'septing reading, writing, and ciphering; but there's no the like o' me
at the fit-ba', and I can play wi' the broadsword as weel as Corporal
Inglis there. I hae broken his head or now, for as massy as he's riding
ahint us.--And then ye'll no be gaun to stay in this country?"--said he,
stopping and interrupting himself.

"Probably not," replied Morton.

"Weel, I carena a boddle. Ye see I wad get my mither bestowed wi' her
auld graning tittie, auntie Meg, in the Gallowgate o' Glasgow, and then I
trust they wad neither burn her for a witch, or let her fail for fau't o'
fude, or hang her up for an auld whig wife; for the provost, they say, is
very regardfu' o' sic puir bodies. And then you and me wad gang and pouss
our fortunes, like the folk i' the daft auld tales about Jock the
Giant-killer and Valentine and Orson; and we wad come back to merry
Scotland, as the sang says, and I wad tak to the stilts again, and turn
sic furs on the bonny rigs o' Milnwood holms, that it wad be worth a pint
but to look at them."

"I fear," said Morton, "there is very little chance, my good friend
Cuddie, of our getting back to our old occupation."

"Hout, stir--hout, stir," replied Cuddie, "it's aye gude to keep up a
hardy heart--as broken a ship's come to land.--But what's that I hear?
never stir, if my auld mither isna at the preaching again! I ken the
sough o' her texts, that sound just like the wind blawing through the
spence; and there's Kettledrummle setting to wark, too--Lordsake, if the
sodgers anes get angry, they'll murder them baith, and us for company!"

Their farther conversation was in fact interrupted by a blatant noise
which rose behind them, in which the voice of the preacher emitted, in
unison with that of the old woman, tones like the grumble of a bassoon
combined with the screaking of a cracked fiddle. At first, the aged pair
of sufferers had been contented to condole with each other in smothered
expressions of complaint and indignation; but the sense of their injuries
became more pungently aggravated as they communicated with each other,
and they became at length unable to suppress their ire.

"Woe, woe, and a threefold woe unto you, ye bloody and violent
persecutors!" exclaimed the Reverend Gabriel Kettledrummle--"Woe, and
threefold woe unto you, even to the breaking of seals, the blowing of
trumpets, and the pouring forth of vials!"

"Ay--ay--a black cast to a' their ill-fa'ur'd faces, and the outside o'
the loof to them at the last day!" echoed the shrill counter-tenor of
Mause, falling in like the second part of a catch.

"I tell you," continued the divine, "that your rankings and your
ridings--your neighings and your prancings--your bloody, barbarous,
and inhuman cruelties--your benumbing, deadening, and debauching
the conscience of poor creatures by oaths, soul-damning and
self-contradictory, have arisen from earth to Heaven like a foul and
hideous outcry of perjury for hastening the wrath to come--hugh! hugh!
hugh!"

"And I say," cried Mause, in the same tune, and nearly at the same time,
"that wi' this auld breath o' mine, and it's sair taen down wi' the
asthmatics and this rough trot"--

"Deil gin they would gallop," said Cuddie, "wad it but gar her haud her
tongue!"

"--Wi' this auld and brief breath," continued Mause, "will I testify
against the backslidings, defections, defalcations, and declinings of the
land--against the grievances and the causes of wrath!"

"Peace, I pr'ythee--Peace, good woman," said the preacher, who had just
recovered from a violent fit of coughing, and found his own anathema
borne down by Mause's better wind; "peace, and take not the word out of
the mouth of a servant of the altar.--I say, I uplift my voice and tell
you, that before the play is played out--ay, before this very sun gaes
down, ye sall learn that neither a desperate Judas, like your prelate
Sharpe that's gane to his place; nor a sanctuary-breaking Holofernes,
like bloody-minded Claverhouse; nor an ambitious Diotrephes, like the lad
Evandale; nor a covetous and warld-following Demas, like him they ca'
Sergeant Bothwell, that makes every wife's plack and her meal-ark his
ain; neither your carabines, nor your pistols, nor your broadswords, nor
your horses, nor your saddles, bridles, surcingles, nose-bags, nor
martingales, shall resist the arrows that are whetted and the bow that is
bent against you!"

"That shall they never, I trow," echoed Mause; "castaways are they ilk
ane o' them--besoms of destruction, fit only to be flung into the fire
when they have sweepit the filth out o' the Temple--whips of small cords,
knotted for the chastisement of those wha like their warldly gudes and
gear better than the Cross or the Covenant, but when that wark's done,
only meet to mak latchets to the deil's brogues."

"Fiend hae me," said Cuddie, addressing himself to Morton, "if I dinna
think our mither preaches as weel as the minister!--But it's a sair pity
o' his hoast, for it aye comes on just when he's at the best o't, and
that lang routing he made air this morning, is sair again him too--Deil
an I care if he wad roar her dumb, and then he wad hae't a' to answer for
himsell--It's lucky the road's rough, and the troopers are no taking
muckle tent to what they say, wi' the rattling o' the horse's feet; but
an we were anes on saft grund, we'll hear news o' a' this."

Cuddie's conjecture were but too true. The words of the prisoners had not
been much attended to while drowned by the clang of horses' hoofs on a
rough and stony road; but they now entered upon the moorlands, where the
testimony of the two zealous captives lacked this saving accompaniment.
And, accordingly, no sooner had their steeds begun to tread heath and
green sward, and Gabriel Kettledrummle had again raised his voice with,
"Also I uplift my voice like that of a pelican in the wilderness"--

"And I mine," had issued from Mause, "like a sparrow on the house-tops"--

When "Hollo, ho!" cried the corporal from the rear; "rein up your
tongues, the devil blister them, or I'll clap a martingale on them."

"I will not peace at the commands of the profane," said Gabriel.

"Nor I neither," said Mause, "for the bidding of no earthly potsherd,
though it be painted as red as a brick from the Tower of Babel, and ca'
itsell a corporal."

"Halliday," cried the corporal, "hast got never a gag about thee,
man?--We must stop their mouths before they talk us all dead."

Ere any answer could be made, or any measure taken in consequence of the
corporal's motion, a dragoon galloped towards Sergeant Bothwell, who was
considerably a-head of the party he commanded. On hearing the orders
which he brought, Bothwell instantly rode back to the head of his party,
ordered them to close their files, to mend their pace, and to move with
silence and precaution, as they would soon be in presence of the enemy.





CHAPTER XV.

               Quantum in nobis, we've thought good
               To save the expense of Christian blood,
               And try if we, by mediation
               Of treaty, and accommodation,
               Can end the quarrel, and compose
               This bloody duel without blows.
                                             Butler.

The increased pace of the party of horsemen soon took away from their
zealous captives the breath, if not the inclination, necessary for
holding forth. They had now for more than a mile got free of the
woodlands, whose broken glades had, for some time, accompanied them after
they had left the woods of Tillietudlem. A few birches and oaks still
feathered the narrow ravines, or occupied in dwarf-clusters the hollow
plains of the moor. But these were gradually disappearing; and a wide and
waste country lay before them, swelling into bare hills of dark heath,
intersected by deep gullies; being the passages by which torrents forced
their course in winter, and during summer the disproportioned channels
for diminutive rivulets that winded their puny way among heaps of stones
and gravel, the effects and tokens of their winter fury;--like so many
spendthrifts dwindled down by the consequences of former excesses and
extravagance. This desolate region seemed to extend farther than the eye
could reach, without grandeur, without even the dignity of mountain
wildness, yet striking, from the huge proportion which it seemed to bear
to such more favoured spots of the country as were adapted to
cultivation, and fitted for the support of man; and thereby impressing
irresistibly the mind of the spectator with a sense of the omnipotence of
nature, and the comparative inefficacy of the boasted means of
amelioration which man is capable of opposing to the disadvantages of
climate and soil.

It is a remarkable effect of such extensive wastes, that they impose an
idea of solitude even upon those who travel through them in considerable
numbers; so much is the imagination affected by the disproportion between
the desert around and the party who are traversing it. Thus the members
of a caravan of a thousand souls may feel, in the deserts of Africa or
Arabia, a sense of loneliness unknown to the individual traveller, whose
solitary course is through a thriving and cultivated country.

It was not, therefore, without a peculiar feeling of emotion, that Morton
beheld, at the distance of about half a mile, the body of the cavalry to
which his escort belonged, creeping up a steep and winding path which
ascended from the more level moor into the hills. Their numbers, which
appeared formidable when they crowded through narrow roads, and seemed
multiplied by appearing partially, and at different points, among the
trees, were now apparently diminished by being exposed at once to view,
and in a landscape whose extent bore such immense proportion to the
columns of horses and men, which, showing more like a drove of black
cattle than a body of soldiers, crawled slowly along the face of the
hill, their force and their numbers seeming trifling and contemptible.

"Surely," said Morton to himself, "a handful of resolute men may defend
any defile in these mountains against such a small force as this is,
providing that their bravery is equal to their enthusiasm."

While he made these reflections, the rapid movement of the horsemen who
guarded him, soon traversed the space which divided them from their
companions; and ere the front of Claverhouse's column had gained the brow
of the hill which they had been seen ascending, Bothwell, with his
rearguard and prisoners, had united himself, or nearly so, with the main
body led by his commander. The extreme difficulty of the road, which was
in some places steep, and in others boggy, retarded the progress of the
column, especially in the rear; for the passage of the main body, in many
instances, poached up the swamps through which they passed, and rendered
them so deep, that the last of their followers were forced to leave the
beaten path, and find safer passage where they could.

On these occasions, the distresses of the Reverend Gabriel Kettledrummle
and of Mause Headrigg, were considerably augmented, as the brutal
troopers, by whom they were guarded, compelled them, at all risks which
such inexperienced riders were likely to incur, to leap their horses over
drains and gullies, or to push them through morasses and swamps.

"Through the help of the Lord I have luppen ower a wall," cried poor
Mause, as her horse was, by her rude attendants, brought up to leap the
turf enclosure of a deserted fold, in which feat her curch flew off,
leaving her grey hairs uncovered.

"I am sunk in deep mire where there is no standing--I am come into deep
waters where the floods overflow me," exclaimed Kettledrummle, as the
charger on which he was mounted plunged up to the saddle-girths in a
well-head, as the springs are called which supply the marshes, the sable
streams beneath spouting over the face and person of the captive
preacher.

These exclamations excited shouts of laughter among their military
attendants; but events soon occurred which rendered them all sufficiently
serious.

The leading files of the regiment had nearly attained the brow of the
steep hill we have mentioned, when two or three horsemen, speedily
discovered to be a part of their own advanced guard, who had acted as a
patrol, appeared returning at full gallop, their horses much blown, and
the men apparently in a disordered flight. They were followed upon the
spur by five or six riders, well armed with sword and pistol, who halted
upon the top of the hill, on observing the approach of the Life-Guards.
One or two who had carabines dismounted, and, taking a leisurely and
deliberate aim at the foremost rank of the regiment, discharged their
pieces, by which two troopers were wounded, one severely. They then
mounted their horses, and disappeared over the ridge of the hill,
retreating with so much coolness as evidently showed, that, on the one
hand, they were undismayed by the approach of so considerable a force as
was moving against them, and conscious, on the other, that they were
supported by numbers sufficient for their protection. This incident
occasioned a halt through the whole body of cavalry; and while
Claverhouse himself received the report of his advanced guard, which had
been thus driven back upon the main body, Lord Evandale advanced to the
top of the ridge over which the enemy's horsemen had retired, and Major
Allan, Cornet Grahame, and the other officers, employed themselves in
extricating the regiment from the broken ground, and drawing them up on
the side of the hill in two lines, the one to support the other.

The word was then given to advance; and in a few minutes the first lines
stood on the brow and commanded the prospect on the other side. The
second line closed upon them, and also the rear-guard with the prisoners;
so that Morton and his companions in captivity could, in like manner, see
the form of opposition which was now offered to the farther progress of
their captors.

The brow of the hill, on which the royal Life-Guards were now drawn up,
sloped downwards (on the side opposite to that which they had ascended)
with a gentle declivity, for more than a quarter of a mile, and presented
ground, which, though unequal in some places, was not altogether
unfavourable for the manoeuvres of cavalry, until near the bottom, when
the slope terminated in a marshy level, traversed through its whole
length by what seemed either a natural gully, or a deep artificial drain,
the sides of which were broken by springs, trenches filled with water,
out of which peats and turf had been dug, and here and there by some
straggling thickets of alders which loved the moistness so well, that
they continued to live as bushes, although too much dwarfed by the sour
soil and the stagnant bog-water to ascend into trees. Beyond this ditch,
or gully, the ground arose into a second heathy swell, or rather hill,
near to the foot of which, and' as if with the object of defending the
broken ground and ditch that covered their front, the body of insurgents
appeared to be drawn up with the purpose of abiding battle.

Their infantry was divided into three lines. The first, tolerably
provided with fire-arms, were advanced almost close to the verge of the
bog, so that their fire must necessarily annoy the royal cavalry as they
descended the opposite hill, the whole front of which was exposed, and
would probably be yet more fatal if they attempted to cross the morass.
Behind this first line was a body of pikemen, designed for their support
in case the dragoons should force the passage of the marsh. In their rear
was their third line, consisting of countrymen armed with scythes set
straight on poles, hay-forks, spits, clubs, goads, fish-spears, and such
other rustic implements as hasty resentment had converted into
instruments of war. On each flank of the infantry, but a little backward
from the bog, as if to allow themselves dry and sound ground whereon to
act in case their enemies should force the pass, there was drawn up a
small body of cavalry, who were, in general, but indifferently armed, and
worse mounted, but full of zeal for the cause, being chiefly either
landholders of small property, or farmers of the better class, whose
means enabled them to serve on horseback. A few of those who had been
engaed in driving back the advanced guard of the royalists, might now be
seen returning slowly towards their own squadrons. These were the only
individuals of the insurgent army which seemed to be in motion. All the
others stood firm and motionless, as the grey stones that lay scattered
on the heath around them.

The total number of the insurgents might amount to about a thousand men;
but of these there were scarce a hundred cavalry, nor were the half of
them even tolerably armed. The strength of their position, however, the
sense of their having taken a desperate step, the superiority of their
numbers, but, above all, the ardour of their enthusiasm, were the means
on which their leaders reckoned, for supplying the want of arms,
equipage, and military discipline.

On the side of the hill that rose above the array of battle which they
had adopted, were seen the women and even the children, whom zeal,
opposed to persecution, had driven into the wilderness. They seemed
stationed there to be spectators of the engagement, by which their own
fate, as well as that of their parents, husbands, and sons, was to be
decided. Like the females of the ancient German tribes, the shrill cries
which they raised, when they beheld the glittering ranks of their enemy
appear on the brow of the opposing eminence, acted as an incentive to
their relatives to fight to the last in defence of that which was dearest
to them. Such exhortations seemed to have their full and emphatic effect;
for a wild halloo, which went from rank to rank on the appearance of the
soldiers, intimated the resolution of the insurgents to fight to the
uttermost.

As the horsemen halted their lines on the ridge of the hill, their
trumpets and kettle-drums sounded a bold and warlike flourish of menace
and defiance, that rang along the waste like the shrill summons of a
destroying angel. The wanderers, in answer, united their voices, and sent
forth, in solemn modulation, the two first verses of the seventy-sixth
Psalm, according to the metrical version of the Scottish Kirk:

                    "In Judah's land God is well known,
                    His name's in Israel great:
                    In Salem is his tabernacle,
                    In Zion is his seat.
                    There arrows of the bow he brake,
                    The shield, the sword, the war.
                    More glorious thou than hills of prey,
                    More excellent art far."

A shout, or rather a solemn acclamation, attended the close of the
stanza; and after a dead pause, the second verse was resumed by the
insurgents, who applied the destruction of the Assyrians as prophetical
of the issue of their own impending contest:--

               "Those that were stout of heart are spoil'd,
               They slept their sleep outright;
               And none of those their hands did find,
               That were the men of might.

               When thy rebuke, O Jacob's God,
               Had forth against them past,
               Their horses and their chariots both
               Were in a deep sleep cast."

There was another acclamation, which was followed by the most profound
silence.

While these solemn sounds, accented by a thousand voices, were prolonged
amongst the waste hills, Claverhouse looked with great attention on the
ground, and on the order of battle which the wanderers had adopted, and
in which they determined to await the assault.

"The churls," he said, "must have some old soldiers with them; it was no
rustic that made choice of that ground."

"Burley is said to be with them for certain," answered Lord Evandale,
"and also Hackston of Rathillet, Paton of Meadowhead, Cleland, and some
other men of military skill."

"I judged as much," said Claverhouse, "from the style in which these
detached horsemen leapt their horses over the ditch, as they returned to
their position. It was easy to see that there were a few roundheaded
troopers amongst them, the true spawn of the old Covenant. We must manage
this matter warily as well as boldly. Evandale, let the officers come to
this knoll."

He moved to a small moss-grown cairn, probably the resting-place of some
Celtic chief of other times, and the call of "Officers to the front,"
soon brought them around their commander.

"I do not call you around me, gentlemen," said Claverhouse, "in the
formal capacity of a council of war, for I will never turn over on others
the responsibility which my rank imposes on myself. I only want the
benefit of your opinions, reserving to myself, as most men do when they
ask advice, the liberty of following my own.--What say you, Cornet
Grahame? Shall we attack these fellows who are bellowing younder? You are
youngest and hottest, and therefore will speak first whether I will or
no."

"Then," said Cornet Grahame, "while I have the honour to carry the
standard of the Life-Guards, it shall never, with my will, retreat before
rebels. I say, charge, in God's name and the King's!"

"And what say you, Allan?" continued Claverhouse, "for Evandale is so
modest, we shall never get him to speak till you have said what you have
to say."

"These fellows," said Major Allan, an old cavalier officer of experience,
"are three or four to one--I should not mind that much upon a fair field,
but they are posted in a very formidable strength, and show no
inclination to quit it. I therefore think, with deference to Cornet
Grahame's opinion, that we should draw back to Tillietudlem, occupy the
pass between the hills and the open country, and send for reinforcements
to my Lord Ross, who is lying at Glasgow with a regiment of infantry. In
this way we should cut them off from the Strath of Clyde, and either
compel them to come out of their stronghold, and give us battle on fair
terms, or, if they remain here, we will attack them so soon as our
infantry has joined us, and enabled us to act with effect among these
ditches, bogs, and quagmires."

"Pshaw!" said the young Cornet, "what signifies strong ground, when it is
only held by a crew of canting, psalm-singing old women?"

"A man may fight never the worse," retorted Major Allan, "for honouring
both his Bible and Psalter. These fellows will prove as stubborn as
steel; I know them of old."

"Their nasal psalmody," said the Cornet, "reminds our Major of the race
of Dunbar."

"Had you been at that race, young man," retorted Allan, "you would have
wanted nothing to remind you of it for the longest day you have to live."

"Hush, hush, gentlemen," said Claverhouse, "these are untimely
repartees.--I should like your advice well, Major Allan, had our rascally
patrols (whom I will see duly punished) brought us timely notice of the
enemy's numbers and position. But having once presented ourselves before
them in line, the retreat of the Life-Guards would argue gross timidity,
and be the general signal for insurrection throughout the west. In which
case, so far from obtaining any assistance from my Lord Ross, I promise
you I should have great apprehensions of his being cut off before we can
join him, or he us. A retreat would have quite the same fatal effect upon
the king's cause as the loss of a battle--and as to the difference of
risk or of safety it might make with respect to ourselves, that, I am
sure, no gentleman thinks a moment about. There must be some gorges or
passes in the morass through which we can force our way; and, were we
once on firm ground, I trust there is no man in the Life-Guards who
supposes our squadrons, though so weak in numbers, are unable to trample
into dust twice the number of these unpractised clowns.--What say you, my
Lord Evandale?"

"I humbly think," said Lord Evandale, "that, go the day how it will, it
must be a bloody one; and that we shall lose many brave fellows, and
probably be obliged to slaughter a great number of these misguided men,
who, after all, are Scotchmen and subjects of King Charles as well as we
are."

"Rebels! rebels! and undeserving the name either of Scotchmen or of
subjects," said Claverhouse; "but come, my lord, what does your opinion
point at?"

"To enter into a treaty with these ignorant and misled men," said the
young nobleman.

"A treaty! and with rebels having arms in their hands? Never while I
live," answered his commander.

"At least send a trumpet and flag of truce, summoning them to lay down
their weapons and disperse," said Lord Evandale, "upon promise of a free
pardon--I have always heard, that had that been done before the battle of
Pentland hills, much blood might have been saved."

"Well," said Claverhouse, "and who the devil do you think would carry a
summons to these headstrong and desperate fanatics? They acknowledge no
laws of war. Their leaders, who have been all most active in the murder
of the Archbishop of St Andrews, fight with a rope round their necks, and
are likely to kill the messenger, were it but to dip their followers in
loyal blood, and to make them as desperate of pardon as themselves."

"I will go myself," said Evandale, "if you will permit me. I have often
risked my blood to spill that of others, let me do so now in order to
save human lives."

"You shall not go on such an errand, my lord," said Claverhouse; "your
rank and situation render your safety of too much consequence to the
country in an age when good principles are so rare.--Here's my brother's
son Dick Grahame, who fears shot or steel as little as if the devil had
given him armour of proof against it, as the fanatics say he has given to
his uncle.

     [Note:  Cornet Grahame. There was actually a young cornet of the
     Life-Guards named Grahame, and probably some relation of
     Claverhouse, slain in the skirmish of Drumclog. In the old ballad on
     the Battle of Bothwell Bridge, Claverhouse is said to have continued
     the slaughter of the fugitives in revenge of this gentleman's death.

     "Haud up your hand," then Monmouth said; "Gie quarters to these men
     for me;" But bloody Claver'se swore an oath, His kinsman's death
     avenged should be.

     The body of this young man was found shockingly mangled after the
     battle, his eyes pulled out, and his features so much defaced, that
     it was impossible to recognise him. The Tory writers say that this
     was done by the Whigs; because, finding the name Grahame wrought in
     the young gentleman's neckcloth, they took the corpse for that of
     Claver'se himself. The Whig authorities give a different account,
     from tradition, of the cause of Cornet Grahame's body being thus
     mangled. He had, say they, refused his own dog any food on the
     morning of the battle, affirming, with an oath, that he should have
     no breakfast but upon the flesh of the Whigs. The ravenous animal,
     it is said, flew at his master as soon as he fell, and lacerated his
     face and throat.

     These two stories are presented to the reader, leaving it to him to
     judge whether it is most likely that a party of persecuted and
     insurgent fanatics should mangle a body supposed to be that of their
     chief enemy, in the same manner as several persons present at
     Drumclog had shortly before treated the person of Archbishop Sharpe;
     or that a domestic dog should, for want of a single breakfast,
     become so ferocious as to feed on his own master, selecting his body
     from scores that were lying around, equally accessible to his
     ravenous appetite.]

He shall take a flag of truce and a trumpet, and ride down to the edge of
the morass to summon them to lay down their arms and disperse."

"With all my soul, Colonel," answered the Cornet; "and I'll tie my cravat
on a pike to serve for a white flag--the rascals never saw such a pennon
of Flanders lace in their lives before."

"Colonel Grahame," said Evandale, while the young officer prepared for
his expedition, "this young gentleman is your nephew and your apparent
heir; for God's sake, permit me to go. It was my counsel, and I ought to
stand the risk."

"Were he my only son," said Claverhouse, "this is no cause and no time to
spare him. I hope my private affections will never interfere with my
public duty. If Dick Grahame falls, the loss is chiefly mine; were your
lordship to die, the King and country would be the sufferers.--Come,
gentlemen, each to his post. If our summons is unfavourably received, we
will instantly attack; and, as the old Scottish blazon has it, God shaw
the right!"





CHAPTER XVI.

               With many a stout thwack and many a bang,
               Hard crab-tree and old iron rang.
                                             Hudibras.

Cornet Richard Grahame descended the hill, bearing in his hand the
extempore flag of truce, and making his managed horse keep time by bounds
and curvets to the tune which he whistled. The trumpeter followed. Five
or six horsemen, having something the appearance of officers, detached
themselves from each flank of the Presbyterian army, and, meeting in the
centre, approached the ditch which divided the hollow as near as the
morass would permit. Towards this group, but keeping the opposite side of
the swamp, Cornet Grahame directed his horse, his motions being now the
conspicuous object of attention to both armies; and, without
disparagement to the courage of either, it is probable there was a
general wish on both sides that this embassy might save the risks and
bloodshed of the impending conflict.

When he had arrived right opposite to those, who, by their advancing to
receive his message, seemed to take upon themselves as the leaders of the
enemy, Cornet Grahame commanded his trumpeter to sound a parley. The
insurgents having no instrument of martial music wherewith to make the
appropriate reply, one of their number called out with a loud, strong
voice, demanding to know why he approached their leaguer.

"To summon you in the King's name, and in that of Colonel John Grahame of
Claverhouse, specially commissioned by the right honourable Privy Council
of Scotland," answered the Cornet, "to lay down your arms, and dismiss
the followers whom ye have led into rebellion, contrary to the laws of
God, of the King, and of the country."

"Return to them that sent thee," said the insurgent leader, "and tell
them that we are this day in arms for a broken Covenant and a persecuted
Kirk; tell them that we renounce the licentious and perjured Charles
Stewart, whom you call king, even as he renounced the Covenant, after
having once and again sworn to prosecute to the utmost of his power all
the ends thereof, really, constantly, and sincerely, all the days of his
life, having no enemies but the enemies of the Covenant, and no friends
but its friends. Whereas, far from keeping the oath he had called God and
angels to witness, his first step, after his incoming into these
kingdoms, was the fearful grasping at the prerogative of the Almighty, by
that hideous Act of Supremacy, together with his expulsing, without
summons, libel, or process of law, hundreds of famous faithful preachers,
thereby wringing the bread of life out of the mouth of hungry, poor
creatures, and forcibly cramming their throats with the lifeless,
saltless, foisonless, lukewarm drammock of the fourteen false prelates,
and their sycophantic, formal, carnal, scandalous creature-curates."

"I did not come to hear you preach," answered the officer, "but to know,
in one word, if you will disperse yourselves, on condition of a free
pardon to all but the murderers of the late Archbishop of St Andrews; or
whether you will abide the attack of his majesty's forces, which will
instantly advance upon you."

"In one word, then," answered the spokesman, "we are here with our swords
on our thighs, as men that watch in the night. We will take one part and
portion together, as brethren in righteousness. Whosoever assails us in
our good cause, his blood be on his own head. So return to them that sent
thee, and God give them and thee a sight of the evil of your ways!"

"Is not your name," said the Cornet, who began to recollect having seen
the person whom he was now speaking with, "John Balfour of Burley?"

"And if it be," said the spokesman, "hast thou aught to say against it?"

"Only," said the Cornet, "that, as you are excluded from pardon in the
name of the King and of my commanding officer, it is to these country
people, and not to you, that I offer it; and it is not with you, or such
as you, that I am sent to treat."

"Thou art a young soldier, friend," said Burley, "and scant well learned
in thy trade, or thou wouldst know that the bearer of a flag of truce
cannot treat with the army but through their officers; and that if he
presume to do otherwise, he forfeits his safe conduct."

While speaking these words, Burley unslung his carabine, and held it in
readiness.

"I am not to be intimidated from the discharge of my duty by the menaces
of a murderer," said Cornet Grahame.--"Hear me, good people; I proclaim,
in the name of the King and of my commanding officer, full and free
pardon to all, excepting"--

"I give thee fair warning," said Burley, presenting his piece.

"A free pardon to all," continued the young officer, still addressing the
body of the insurgents--"to all but"--

"Then the Lord grant grace to thy soul--amen!" said Burley.

With these words he fired, and Cornet Richard Grahame dropped from his
horse. The shot was mortal. The unfortunate young gentleman had only
strength to turn himself on the ground and mutter forth, "My poor
mother!" when life forsook him in the effort. His startled horse fled
back to the regiment at the gallop, as did his scarce less affrighted
attendant.

"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.

"My duty," said Balfour, firmly. "Is it not written, Thou shalt be
zealous even to slaying? Let those, who dare, now venture to speak of
truce or pardon!"

Claverhouse saw his nephew fall. He turned his eye on Evandale, while a
transitory glance of indescribable emotion disturbed, for a second's
space, the serenity of his features, and briefly said, "You see the
event."

"I will avenge him, or die!" exclaimed Evandale; and, putting his horse
into motion, rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and
that of the deceased Cornet, which broke down without orders; and, each
striving to be the foremost to revenge their young officer, their ranks
soon fell into confusion. These forces formed the first line of the
royalists. It was in vain that Claverhouse exclaimed, "Halt! halt! this
rashness will undo us." It was all that he could accomplish, by galloping
along the second line, entreating, commanding, and even menacing the men
with his sword, that he could restrain them from following an example so
contagious.

"Allan," he said, as soon as he had rendered the men in some degree more
steady, "lead them slowly down the hill to support Lord Evandale, who is
about to need it very much.--Bothwell, thou art a cool and a daring
fellow"--

"Ay," muttered Bothwell, "you can remember that in a moment like this."

"Lead ten file up the hollow to the right," continued his commanding
officer, "and try every means to get through the bog; then form and
charge the rebels in flank and rear, while they are engaged with us in
front."

Bothwell made a signal of intelligence and obedience, and moved off with
his party at a rapid pace.

Meantime, the disaster which Claverhouse had apprehended, did not fail to
take place. The troopers, who, with Lord Evandale, had rushed down upon
the enemy, soon found their disorderly career interrupted by the
impracticable character of the ground. Some stuck fast in the morass as
they attempted to struggle through, some recoiled from the attempt and
remained on the brink, others dispersed to seek a more favourable place
to pass the swamp. In the midst of this confusion, the first line of the
enemy, of which the foremost rank knelt, the second stooped, and the
third stood upright, poured in a close and destructive fire that emptied
at least a score of saddles, and increased tenfold the disorder into
which the horsemen had fallen. Lord Evandale, in the meantime, at the
head of a very few well-mounted men, had been able to clear the ditch,
but was no sooner across than he was charged by the left body of the
enemy's cavalry, who, encouraged by the small number of opponents that
had made their way through the broken ground, set upon them with the
utmost fury, crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines! down
with Dagon and all his adherents!"

The young nobleman fought like a lion; but most of his followers were
killed, and he himself could not have escaped the same fate but for a
heavy fire of carabines, which Claverhouse, who had now advanced with the
second line near to the ditch, poured so effectually upon the enemy, that
both horse and foot for a moment began to shrink, and Lord Evandale,
disengaged from his unequal combat, and finding himself nearly alone,
took the opportunity to effect his retreat through the morass. But
notwithstanding the loss they had sustained by Claverhouse's first fire,
the insurgents became soon aware that the advantage of numbers and of
position were so decidedly theirs, that, if they could but persist in
making a brief but resolute defence, the Life-Guards must necessarily be
defeated. Their leaders flew through their ranks, exhorting them to stand
firm, and pointing out how efficacious their fire must be where both men
and horse were exposed to it; for the troopers, according to custom,
fired without having dismounted. Claverhouse, more than once, when he
perceived his best men dropping by a fire which they could not
effectually return, made desperate efforts to pass the bog at various
points, and renew the battle on firm ground and fiercer terms. But the
close fire of the insurgents, joined to the natural difficulties of the
pass, foiled his attempts in every point.

"We must retreat," he said to Evandale, "unless Bothwell can effect a
diversion in our favour. In the meantime, draw the men out of fire, and
leave skirmishers behind these patches of alderbushes to keep the enemy
in check."

These directions being accomplished, the appearance of Bothwell with his
party was earnestly expected. But Bothwell had his own disadvantages to
struggle with. His detour to the right had not escaped the penetrating
observation of Burley, who made a corresponding movement with the left
wing of the mounted insurgents, so that when Bothwell, after riding a
considerable way up the valley, found a place at which the bog could be
passed, though with some difficulty, he perceived he was still in front
of a superior enemy. His daring character was in no degree checked by
this unexpected opposition.

"Follow me, my lads!" he called to his men; "never let it be said that we
turned our backs before these canting roundheads!"

With that, as if inspired by the spirit of his ancestors, he shouted,
"Bothwell! Bothwell!" and throwing himself into the morass, he struggled
through it at the head of his party, and attacked that of Burley with
such fury, that he drove them back above a pistol-shot, killing three men
with his own hand. Burley, perceiving the consequences of a defeat on
this point, and that his men, though more numerous, were unequal to the
regulars in using their arms and managing their horses, threw himself
across Bothwell's way, and attacked him hand to hand. Each of the
combatants was considered as the champion of his respective party, and a
result ensued more usual in romance than in real story. Their followers,
on either side, instantly paused, and looked on as if the fate of the day
were to be decided by the event of the combat between these two redoubted
swordsmen. The combatants themselves seemed of the same opinion; for,
after two or three eager cuts and pushes had been exchanged, they paused,
as if by joint consent, to recover the breath which preceding exertions
had exhausted, and to prepare for a duel in which each seemed conscious
he had met his match.


[Illustration: The Duel--230]


"You are the murdering villain, Burley," said Bothwell, griping his sword
firmly, and setting his teeth close--"you escaped me once, but"--(he
swore an oath too tremendous to be written down)--"thy head is worth its
weight of silver, and it shall go home at my saddle-bow, or my saddle
shall go home empty for me."

"Yes," replied Burley, with stern and gloomy deliberation, "I am that
John Balfour, who promised to lay thy head where thou shouldst never lift
it again; and God do so unto me, and more also, if I do not redeem my
word!"

"Then a bed of heather, or a thousand merks!" said Bothwell, striking at
Burley with his full force.

"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" answered Balfour, as he parried
and returned the blow.

There have seldom met two combatants more equally matched in strength of
body, skill in the management of their weapons and horses, determined
courage, and unrelenting hostility. After exchanging many desperate
blows, each receiving and inflicting several wounds, though of no great
consequence, they grappled together as if with the desperate impatience
of mortal hate, and Bothwell, seizing his enemy by the shoulder-belt,
while the grasp of Balfour was upon his own collar, they came headlong to
the ground. The companions of Burley hastened to his assistance, but were
repelled by the dragoons, and the battle became again general. But
nothing could withdraw the attention of the combatants from each other,
or induce them to unclose the deadly clasp in which they rolled together
on the ground, tearing, struggling, and foaming, with the inveteracy of
thorough-bred bull-dogs.

Several horses passed over them in the melee without their quitting hold
of each other, until the sword-arm of Bothwell was broken by the kick of
a charger. He then relinquished his grasp with a deep and suppressed
groan, and both combatants started to their feet. Bothwell's right hand
dropped helpless by his side, but his left griped to the place where his
dagger hung; it had escaped from the sheath in the struggle,--and, with a
look of mingled rage and despair, he stood totally defenceless, as
Balfour, with a laugh of savage joy, flourished his sword aloft, and then
passed it through his adversary's body. Bothwell received the thrust
without falling--it had only grazed on his ribs. He attempted no farther
defence, but, looking at Burley with a grin of deadly hatred,
exclaimed--"Base peasant churl, thou hast spilt the blood of a line
of kings!"

"Die, wretch!--die!" said Balfour, redoubling the thrust with better aim;
and, setting his foot on Bothwell's body as he fell, he a third time
transfixed him with his sword.--"Die, bloodthirsty dog! die as thou hast
lived!--die, like the beasts that perish--hoping nothing--believing
nothing--"

"And fearing nothing!" said Bothwell, collecting the last effort of
respiration to utter these desperate words, and expiring as soon as they
were spoken.

To catch a stray horse by the bridle, throw himself upon it, and rush to
the assistance of his followers, was, with Burley, the affair of a
moment. And as the fall of Bothwell had given to the insurgents all the
courage of which it had deprived his comrades, the issue of this partial
contest did not remain long undecided. Several soldiers were slain, the
rest driven back over the morass and dispersed, and the victorious
Burley, with his party, crossed it in their turn, to direct against
Claverhouse the very manoeuvre which he had instructed Bothwell to
execute. He now put his troop in order, with the view of attacking the
right wing of the royalists; and, sending news of his success to the main
body, exhorted them, in the name of Heaven, to cross the marsh, and work
out the glorious work of the Lord by a general attack upon the enemy.

Meanwhile, Claverhouse, who had in some degree remedied the confusion
occasioned by the first irregular and unsuccessful attack, and reduced
the combat in front to a distant skirmish with firearms, chiefly
maintained by some dismounted troopers whom he had posted behind the
cover of the shrub-by copses of alders, which in some places covered the
edge of the morass, and whose close, cool, and well-aimed fire
greatly annoyed the enemy, and concealed their own deficiency of
numbers,--Claverhouse, while he maintained the contest in this manner,
still expecting that a diversion by Bothwell and his party might
facilitate a general attack, was accosted by one of the dragoons, whose
bloody face and jaded horse bore witness he was come from hard service.

"What is the matter, Halliday?" said Claverhouse, for he knew every man
in his regiment by name--"Where is Bothwell?"

"Bothwell is down," replied Halliday, "and many a pretty fellow with
him."

"Then the king," said Claverhouse, with his usual composure, "has lost a
stout soldier.--The enemy have passed the marsh, I suppose?"

"With a strong body of horse, commanded by the devil incarnate that
killed Bothwell," answered the terrified soldier.

"Hush! hush!" said Claverhouse, putting his finger on his lips, "not a
word to any one but me.--Lord Evandale, we must retreat. The fates will
have it so. Draw together the men that are dispersed in the skirmishing
work. Let Allan form the regiment, and do you two retreat up the hill in
two bodies, each halting alternately as the other falls back. I'll keep
the rogues in check with the rear-guard, making a stand and facing from
time to time. They will be over the ditch presently, for I see their
whole line in motion and preparing to cross; therefore lose no time."

"Where is Bothwell with his party?" said Lord Evandale, astonished at the
coolness of his commander.

"Fairly disposed of," said Claverhouse, in his ear--"the king has lost a
servant, and the devil has got one. But away to business, Evandale--ply
your spurs and get the men together. Allan and you must keep them steady.
This retreating is new work for us all; but our turn will come round
another day."

Evandale and Allan betook themselves to their task; but ere they had
arranged the regiment for the purpose of retreating in two alternate
bodies, a considerable number of the enemy had crossed the marsh.
Claverhouse, who had retained immediately around his person a few of his
most active and tried men, charged those who had crossed in person, while
they were yet disordered by the broken ground. Some they killed, others
they repulsed into the morass, and checked the whole so as to enable the
main body, now greatly diminished, as well as disheartened by the loss
they had sustained, to commence their retreat up the hill.

But the enemy's van being soon reinforced and supported, compelled
Claverhouse to follow his troops. Never did man, however, better maintain
the character of a soldier than he did that day. Conspicuous by his black
horse and white feather, he was first in the repeated charges which he
made at every favourable opportunity, to arrest the progress of the
pursuers, and to cover the retreat of his regiment. The object of aim to
every one, he seemed as if he were impassive to their shot. The
superstitious fanatics, who looked upon him as a man gifted by the Evil
Spirit with supernatural means of defence, averred that they saw the
bullets recoil from his jack-boots and buff-coat like hailstones from a
rock of granite, as he galloped to and fro amid the storm of the battle.
Many a whig that day loaded his musket with a dollar cut into slugs, in
order that a silver bullet (such was their belief) might bring down the
persecutor of the holy kirk, on whom lead had no power.

"Try him with the cold steel," was the cry at every renewed
charge--"powder is wasted on him. Ye might as weel shoot at the Auld
Enemy himsell."

     [Note: Proof against Shot given by Satan. The belief of the
     Covenanters that their principal enemies, and Claverhouse in
     particular, had obtained from the Devil a charm which rendered them
     proof against leaden bullets, led them to pervert even the
     circumstances of his death. Howie of Lochgoin, after giving some
     account of the battle of Killicrankie, adds:

     "The battle was very bloody, and by Mackay's third fire, Claverhouse
     fell, of whom historians give little account; but it has been said
     for certain, that his own waiting-servant, taking a resolution to
     rid the world of this truculent bloody monster, and knowing he had
     proof of lead, shot him with a silver button he had before taken off
     his own coat for that purpose. However, he fell, and with him
     Popery, and King James's interest in Scotland."--God's Judgment on
     Persecutors, p. xxxix.