The Abbot

  Chapter the Thirty-Seventh.

  Ay, sir--our ancient crown, in these wild times, Oft stood upon a cast--the gamester's ducat, So often staked, and lost, and then regain'd, Scarce knew so many hazards. THE SPANISH FATHER.

  It is not our object to enter into the historical part of the reign ofthe ill-fated Mary, or to recount how, during the week which succeededher flight from Lochleven, her partisans mustered around her with theirfollowers, forming a gallant army, amounting to six thousand men. Somuch light has been lately thrown on the most minute details of theperiod, by Mr. Chalmers, in his valuable history of Queen Mary, that thereader may be safely referred to it for the fullest informationwhich ancient records afford concerning that interesting time. It issufficient for our purpose to say, that while Mary's head-quarterswere at Hamilton, the Regent and his adherents had, in the King's name,assembled a host at Glasgow, inferior indeed to that of the Queen innumbers, but formidable from the military talents of Murray, Morton, theLaird of Grange, and others, who had been trained from their youth inforeign and domestic wars.

  In these circumstances, it was the obvious policy of Queen Mary to avoida conflict, secure that were her person once in safety, the number ofher adherents must daily increase; whereas, the forces of those opposedto her must, as had frequently happened in the previous history of herreign, have diminished, and their spirits become broken. And so evidentwas this to her counsellors, that they resolved their first step shouldbe to place the Queen in the strong castle of Dunbarton, there to awaitthe course of events, the arrival of succours from France, and thelevies which were made by her adherents in every province of Scotland.Accordingly, orders were given, that all men should be on horseback oron foot, apparelled in their armour, and ready to follow the Queen'sstandard in array of battle, the avowed determination being to escorther to the Castle of Dunbarton in defiance of her enemies.

  The muster was made upon Hamilton-Moor, and the march commenced in allthe pomp of feudal times. Military music sounded, banners and pennonswaved, armour glittered far and wide, and spears glanced and twinkledlike stars in a frosty sky. The gallant spectacle of warlike parade wason this occasion dignified by the presence of the Queen herself, who,with a fair retinue of ladies and household attendants, and aspecial guard of gentlemen, amongst whom young Seyton and Roland weredistinguished, gave grace at once and confidence to the army, whichspread its ample files before, around, and behind her. Many churchmenalso joined the cavalcade, most of whom did not scruple to assume arms,and declare their intention of wielding them in defence of Mary and theCatholic faith. Not so the Abbot of Saint Mary's. Roland had not seenthis prelate since the night of their escape from Lochleven, and he nowbeheld him, robed in the dress of his order, assume his station near theQueen's person. Roland hastened to pull off his basnet, and beseech theAbbot's blessing.

  "Thou hast it, my son!" said the priest; "I see thee now under thy truename, and in thy rightful garb. The helmet with the holly branch befitsyour brows well--I have long waited for the hour thou shouldst assumeit."

  "Then you knew of my descent, my good father?" said Roland.

  "I did so, but it was under seal of confession from thy grandmother;nor was I at liberty to tell the secret, till she herself should make itknown."

  "Her reason for such secrecy, my father?" said Roland Avenel.

  "Fear, perchance of my brother--a mistaken fear, for Halbert would not,to ensure himself a kingdom, have offered wrong to an orphan; besidesthat, your title, in quiet times, even had your father done your motherthat justice which I well hope he did, could not have competed with thatof my brother's wife, the child of Julian's elder brother."

  "They need fear no competition from me," said Avenel. "Scotland iswide enough, and there are many manors to win, without plundering mybenefactor. But prove to me, my reverend father, that my father was justto my mother--show me that I may call myself a legitimate Avenel, andmake me your bounden slave for ever."

  "Ay," replied the Abbot, "I hear the Seytons hold thee cheap for thatstain on thy shield. Something, however, I have learnt from the lateAbbot Boniface, which, if it prove sooth, may redeem that reproach."

  "Tell me that blessed news," said Roland, "and the future service of mylife--"

  "Rash boy!" said the Abbot, "I should but madden thine impatient temper,by exciting hopes that may never be fulfilled--and is this a time forthem? Think on what perilous march we are bound, and if thou hast a sinunconfessed, neglect not the only leisure which Heaven may perchanceafford thee for confession and absolution."

  "There will be time enough for both, I trust, when we reach Dunbarton,"answered the page.

  "Ay," said the Abbot, "thou crowest as loudly as the rest--but we arenot yet at Dunbarton, and there is a lion in the path."

  "Mean you Murray, Morton, and the other rebels at Glasgow, my reverendfather? Tush! they dare not look on the royal banner."

  "Even so," replied the Abbot, "speak many of those who are older, andshould be wiser, than thou.--I have returned from the southern shires,where I left many a chief of name arming in the Queen's interest--Ileft the lords here wise and considerate men--I find them madmen on myreturn--they are willing, for mere pride and vain-glory, to brave theenemy, and to carry the Queen, as it were in triumph, past the walls ofGlasgow, and under the beards of the adverse army.--Seldom does Heavensmile on such mistimed confidence. We shall be encountered, and that tothe purpose."

  "And so much the better," replied Roland; "the field of battle was mycradle."

  "Beware it be not thy dying bed," said the Abbot. "But what avails itwhispering to young wolves the dangers of the chase? You will know,perchance, ere this day is out, what yonder men are, whom you hold inrash contempt."

  "Why, what are they?" said Henry Seyton, who now joined them: "havethey sinews of wire, and flesh of iron?--Will lead pierce and steel cutthem?--If so, reverend father, we have little to fear."

  "They are evil men," said the Abbot, "but the trade of war demandsno saints.--Murray and Morton are known to be the best generals inScotland. No one ever saw Lindesay's or Ruthven's back--Kirkaldy ofGrange was named by the Constable Montmorency the first soldier inEurope--My brother, too good a name for such a cause, has been far andwide known for a soldier."

  "The better, the better!" said Seyton, triumphantly; "we shall have allthese traitors of rank and name in a fair field before us. Our causeis the best, our numbers are the strongest, our hearts and limbs matchtheirs--Saint Bennet, and set on!"

  The Abbot made no reply, but seemed lost in reflection; and his anxietyin some measure communicated itself to Roland Avenel, who ever, as theirline of march led over a ridge or an eminence, cast an anxious looktowards the towers of Glasgow, as if he expected to see symptoms of theenemy issuing forth. It was not that he feared the fight, but the issuewas of such deep import to his country, and to himself, that the naturalfire of his spirit burned with a less lively, though with a more intenseglow. Love, honour, fame, fortune, all seemed to depend on the issue ofone field, rashly hazarded perhaps, but now likely to become unavoidableand decisive.

  When, at length, their march came to be nearly parallel with the city ofGlasgow, Roland became sensible that the high grounds before them werealready in part occupied by a force, showing, like their own, the royalbanner of Scotland, and on the point of being supported by columns ofinfantry and squadrons of horse, which the city gates had poured forth,and which hastily advanced to sustain those troops who already possessedthe ground in front of the Queen's forces. Horseman after horsemangalloped in from the advanced guard, with tidings that Murray had takenthe field with his whole army; that his object was to intercept theQueen's march, and his purpose unquestionable to hazard a battle. Itwas now that the tempers of men were subjected to a sudden and a severetrial; and that those who had too presumptuously concluded that theywould pass without combat, were something disconcerted, when, at once,and with little time to deliberate, they found themselves placed infront of a res
olute enemy.--Their chiefs immediately assembled aroundthe Queen, and held a hasty council of war. Mary's quivering lipconfessed the fear which she endeavoured to conceal under a boldand dignified demeanour. But her efforts were overcome by painfulrecollections of the disastrous issue of her last appearance in arms atCarberry-hill; and when she meant to have asked them their advice forordering the battle, she involuntarily inquired whether there were nomeans of escaping without an engagement?

  "Escaping?" answered the Lord Seyton; "when I stand as one to ten ofyour Highness's enemies, I may think of escape--but never while I standwith three to two!"

  "Battle! battle!" exclaimed the assembled lords; "we will drive therebels from their vantage ground, as the hound turns the hare on thehill side."

  "Methinks, my noble lords," said the Abbot, "it were as well to preventhis gaining that advantage.--Our road lies through yonder hamlet on thebrow, and whichever party hath the luck to possess it, with its littlegardens and enclosures, will attain a post of great defence."

  "The reverend father is right," said the Queen. "Oh, haste thee, Seyton,haste, and get thither before them--they are marching like the wind."

  Seyton bowed low, and turned his horse's head.--"Your Highness honoursme," he said; "I will instantly press forward, and seize the pass."

  "Not before me, my lord, whose charge is the command of the vanguard,"said the Lord of Arbroath.

  "Before you, or any Hamilton in Scotland," said the Seyton, "having theQueen's command--Follow me, gentlemen, my vassals and kinsmen--SaintBennet, and set on!"

  "And follow me," said Arbroath, "my noble kinsmen, and bravemen-tenants, we will see which will first reach the post of danger. ForGod and Queen Mary!"

  "Ill-omened haste, and most unhappy strife," said the Abbot, who sawthem and their followers rush hastily and emulously to ascend theheight without waiting till their men were placed in order.--"And you,gentlemen," he continued, addressing Roland and Seyton, who were eachabout to follow those who hastened thus disorderly to the conflict,"will you leave the Queen's person unguarded?"

  "Oh, leave me not, gentlemen!" said the Queen--"Roland and Seyton,do not leave me--there are enough of arms to strike in this fellcombat--withdraw not those to whom I trust for my safety."

  "We may not leave her Grace," said Roland, looking at Seyton, andturning his horse.

  "I ever looked when thou wouldst find out that," rejoined the fieryyouth.

  Roland made no answer, but bit his lip till the blood came, and spurringhis horse up to the side of Catherine Seyton's palfrey, he whisperedin a low voice, "I never thought to have done aught to deserve you;but this day I have heard myself upbraided with cowardice, and my swordremained still sheathed, and all for the love of you."

  "There is madness among us all," said the damsel; "my father, mybrother, and you, are all alike bereft of reason. Ye should thinkonly of this poor Queen, and you are all inspired by your own absurdjealousies--The monk is the only soldier and man of sense amongst youall.--My lord Abbot," she cried aloud, "were it not better we shoulddraw to the westward, and wait the event that God shall send us, insteadof remaining here in the highway, endangering the Queen's person, andcumbering the troops in their advance?"

  "You say well, my daughter," replied the Abbot; "had we but one to guideus where the Queen's person may be in safety--Our nobles hurry to theconflict, without casting a thought on the very cause of the war."

  "Follow me," said a knight, or man-at-arms, well mounted, and attiredcompletely in black armour, but having the visor of his helmet closed,and bearing no crest on his helmet, or device upon his shield.

  "We will follow no stranger," said the Abbot, "without some warrant ofhis truth."

  "I am a stranger and in your hands," said the horseman; "if you wish toknow more of me, the Queen herself will be your warrant."

  The Queen had remained fixed to the spot, as if disabled by fear, yetmechanically smiling, bowing, and waving her hand, as banners werelowered and spears depressed before her, while, emulating the strifebetwixt Seyton and Arbroath, band on band pressed forward their marchtowards the enemy. Scarce, however, had the black rider whisperedsomething in her ear, than she assented to what he said; and when hespoke aloud, and with an air of command, "Gentlemen, it is the Queen'spleasure that you should follow me," Mary uttered, with something likeeagerness, the word "Yes."

  All were in motion in an instant; for the black horseman, throwing off asort of apathy of manner, which his first appearance indicated, spurredhis horse to and fro, making him take such active bounds and shortturns, as showed the rider master of the animal; and getting the Queen'slittle retinue in some order for marching, he led them to the left,directing his course towards a castle, which, crowning a gentle yetcommanding eminence, presented an extensive view over the countrybeneath, and in particular, commanded a view of those heights which botharmies hastened to occupy, and which it was now apparent must almostinstantly be the scene of struggle and dispute.

  "Yonder towers," said the Abbot, questioning the sable horseman, "towhom do they belong?--and are they in the hands of friends?"

  "They are untenanted," replied the stranger, "or, at least, they haveno hostile inmates.--But urge these youths. Sir Abbot, to make morehaste--this is but an evil time to satisfy their idle curiosity, bypeering out upon the battle in which they are to take no share."

  "The worse luck mine," said Henry Seyton, who overheard him--"Iwould rather be under my father's banner at this moment than be madeChamberlain of Holyrood, for this my present duty of peaceful ward welland patiently discharged."

  "Your place under your father's banner will shortly be right dangerous,"said Roland Avenel, who, pressing his horse towards the westward,had still his look reverted to the armies; "for I see yonder body ofcavalry, which presses from the eastward, will reach the village ereLord Seyton can gain it."

  "They are but cavalry," said Seyton, looking attentively; "they cannothold the village without shot of harquebuss."

  "Look more closely," said Roland; "you will see that each of thesehorseman who advance so rapidly from Glasgow, carries a footman behindhim."

  "Now, by Heaven, he speaks well!" said the black cavalier; "one of youtwo must go carry the news to Lord Seyton and Lord Arbroath, thatthey hasten not their horsemen on before the foot, but advance moreregularly."

  "Be that my errand," said Roland, "for I first marked the stratagem ofthe enemy."

  "But, by your leave," said Seyton, "yonder is my father's bannerengaged, and it best becomes me to go to the rescue."

  "I will stand by the Queen's decision," said Roland Avenel.

  "What new appeal?--what new quarrel?" said Queen Mary--"Are there notin yonder dark host enemies enough to Mary Stewart, but must her veryfriends turn enemies to each other?"

  "Nay, madam," said Roland, "the young master of Seyton and I did butdispute who should leave your person to do a most needful message to thehost. He thought his rank entitled him, and I deemed that the person ofleast consequence, being myself, were better perilled--"

  "Not so," said the Queen; "if one must leave me, be it Seyton."

  Henry Seyton bowed till the white plumes on his helmet mixed with theflowing mane of his gallant war-horse, then placed himself firm in thesaddle, shook his lance aloft with an air of triumph and determination,and striking his horse with the spurs, made towards his father's banner,which was still advancing up the hill, and dashed his steed over everyobstacle that occurred in his headlong path.

  "My brother! my father!" exclaimed Catherine, with an expressionof agonized apprehension--"they are in the midst of peril, and I insafety!"

  "Would to God," said Roland, "that I were with them, and could ransomevery drop of their blood by two of mine!"

  "Do I not know thou dost wish it?" said Catherine--"Can a woman say toa man what I have well-nigh said to thee, and yet think that he couldharbour fear or faintness of heart?--There is that in yon distant soundof approaching battle that pleases me even while it affrights me.
Iwould I were a man, that I might feel that stern delight, without themixture of terror!"

  "Ride up, ride up, Lady Catherine Seyton," cried the Abbot, as theystill swept on at a rapid pace, and were now close beneath the wallsof the castle--"ride up, and aid Lady Fleming to support the Queen--shegives way more and more."

  They halted and lifted Mary from the saddle, and were about tosupport her towards the castle, when she said faintly, "Not there--notthere--these walls will I never enter more!"

  "Be a Queen, madam," said the Abbot, "and forget that you are a woman."

  "Oh, I must forget much, much more," answered the unfortunate Mary,in an under tone, "ere I can look with steady eyes on these well-knownscenes!--I must forget the days which I spent here as the bride of thelost--the murdered----"

  "This is the Castle of Crookstone," said the Lady Fleming, "in which theQueen held her first court after she was married to Darnley."

  "Heaven," said the Abbot, "thy hand is upon us!--Bear yet up,madam--your foes are the foes of Holy Church, and God will this daydecide whether Scotland shall be Catholic or heretic."

  A heavy and continued fire of cannon and musketry, bore a tremendousburden to his words, and seemed far more than they to recall the spiritsof the Queen.

  "To yonder tree," she said, pointing to a yew-tree which grew on a smallmount close to the castle; "I know it well--from thence you may see aprospect wide as from the peaks of Schehallion."

  And freeing herself from her assistants, she walked with a determined,yet somewhat wild step, up to the stem of the noble yew. The Abbot,Catherine, and Roland Avenel followed her, while Lady Fleming kept backthe inferior persons of her train. The black horseman also followed theQueen, waiting on her as closely as the shadow upon the light, but everremaining at the distance of two or three yards---he folded his arms onhis bosom, turned his back to the battle, and seemed solely occupied bygazing on Mary, through the bars of his closed visor. The Queen regardedhim not, but fixed her eyes upon the spreading yew."

  "Ay, fair and stately tree," she said, as if at the sight of it she hadbeen rapt away from the present scene, and had overcome the horrorwhich had oppressed her at the first approach to Crookstone, "there thoustandest, gay and goodly as ever, though thou hearest the sounds of war,instead of the vows of love. All is gone since I last greeted thee--loveand lover--vows and vower--king and kingdom.--How goes the field, myLord Abbot?--with us, I trust--yet what but evil can Mary's eyes witnessfrom this spot?"

  Her attendants eagerly bent their eyes on the field of battle, but coulddiscover nothing more than that it was obstinately contested. The smallenclosures and cottage gardens in the village, of which they had a fulland commanding view, and which shortly before lay, with their lines ofsycamore and ash-trees, so still and quiet in the mild light of a Maysun, were now each converted into a line of fire, canopied by smoke; andthe sustained and constant report of the musketry and cannon, mingledwith the shouts of meeting combatants, showed that as yet neither partyhad given ground.

  "Many a soul finds its final departure to heaven or hell, in these awfulthunders," said the Abbot; "let those that believe in the Holy Church,join me in orisons for victory in this dreadful combat."

  "Not here--not here," said the unfortunate Queen; "pray not here,father, or pray in silence--my mind is too much torn between the pastand the present, to dare to approach the heavenly throne--Or, if wewill pray, be it for one whose fondest affections have been her greatestcrimes, and who has ceased to be a queen, only because she was adeceived and a tender-hearted woman."

  "Were it not well," said Roland, "that I rode somewhat nearer the hosts,and saw the fate of the day?"

  "Do so, in the name of God," said the Abbot; "for if our friends arescattered, our flight must be hasty--but beware thou approach not toonigh the conflict; there is more than thine own life depends on thy safereturn."

  "Oh, go not too nigh," said Catherine; "but fail not to see how theSeytons fight, and how they bear themselves."

  "Fear nothing, I will be on my guard," said Roland Avenel; and withoutwaiting farther answer, rode towards the scene of conflict, keeping, ashe rode, the higher and unenclosed ground, and ever looking cautiouslyaround him, for fear of involving himself in some hostile party. As heapproached, the shots rung sharp and more sharply on his ear, the shoutscame wilder and wilder, and he felt that thick beating of the heart,that mixture of natural apprehension, intense curiosity, and anxiety forthe dubious event, which even the bravest experience when they approachalone to a scene of interest and of danger.

  At length he drew so close, that from a bank, screened by bushes andunderwood, he could distinctly see where the struggle was most keenlymaintained. This was in a hollow way, leading to the village, upwhich the Queen's vanguard had marched, with more hasty courage thanwell-advised conduct, for the purpose of possessing themselves of thatpost of advantage. They found their scheme anticipated, and the hedgesand enclosures already occupied by the enemy, led by the celebratedKirkaldy of Grange and the Earl of Morton; and not small was the losswhich they sustained while struggling forward to come to close withthe men-at-arms on the other side. But, as the Queen's followers werechiefly noblemen and barons, with their kinsmen and followers, they hadpressed onward, contemning obstacles and danger, and had, when Rolandarrived on the ground, met hand to hand at the gorge of the pass withthe Regent's vanguard, and endeavoured to bear them out of the villageat the spear-point; while their foes, equally determined to keep theadvantage which they had attained, struggled with the like obstinacyto drive back the assailants. Both parties were on foot, and armed inproof; so that, when the long lances of the front ranks were fixed ineach other's shields, corslets, and breastplates, the struggle resembledthat of two bulls, who fixing their frontlets hard against each other,remain in that posture for hours, until the superior strength orobstinacy of the one compels the other to take to flight, or bears himdown to the earth. Thus locked together in the deadly struggle, whichswayed slowly to and fro, as one or other party gained the advantage,those who fell were trampled on alike by friends and foes; those whoseweapons were broken, retired from the front rank, and had their placesupplied by others; while the rearward ranks, unable otherwise to sharein the combat, fired their pistols, and hurled their daggers, and thepoints and truncheons of the broken weapons, like javelins against theenemy.

  "God and the Queen!" resounded from the one party; "God and the King!"thundered from the other; while, in the name of their sovereign,fellow-subjects on both sides shed each other's blood, and, in the nameof their Creator, defaced his image. Amid the tumult was often heard thevoices of the captains, shouting their commands; of leaders and chiefs,crying their gathering words; of groans and shrieks from the falling andthe dying.

  The strife had lasted nearly an hour. The strength of both partiesseemed exhausted; but their rage was unabated, and their obstinacyunsubdued, when Roland, who turned eye and ear to all around him, sawa column of infantry, headed by a few horsemen, wheel round the baseof the bank where he had stationed himself, and, levelling their longlances, attack the Queen's vanguard, closely engaged as they were inconflict on their front. The very first glance showed him that theleader who directed this movement was the Knight of Avenel, his ancientmaster; and the next convinced him, that its effects would be decisive.The result of the attack of fresh and unbroken forces upon the flank ofthose already wearied with a long and obstinate struggle, was, indeed,instantaneous.

  The column of the assailants, which had hitherto shown one dark, dense,and united line of helmets, surmounted with plumage, was at oncebroken and hurled in confusion down the hill, which they had so longendeavoured to gain. In vain were the leaders heard calling upon theirfollowers to stand to the combat, and seen personally resisting when allresistance was evidently vain. They were slain, or felled to the earth,or hurried backwards by the mingled tide of flight and pursuit. Whatwere Roland's feelings on beholding the rout, and feeling that all thatremained for him was to turn bridle, and endeavour t
o ensure the safetyof the Queen's person! Yet, keen as his grief and shame might be,they were both forgotten, when, almost close beneath the bank whichhe occupied, he saw Henry Seyton forced away from his own party in thetumult, covered with dust and blood, and defending himself desperatelyagainst several of the enemy who had gathered around him, attracted byhis gay armour. Roland paused not a moment, but pushing his steed downthe bank, leaped him amongst the hostile party, dealt three or fourblows amongst them, which struck down two, and made the rest standaloof; then reaching Seyton his hand, he exhorted him to seize fast onhis horse's mane.

  "We live or die together this day," said he; "keep but fast hold till weare out of the press, and then my horse is yours."

  Seyton heard and exerted his remaining strength, and, by their jointefforts, Roland brought him out of danger, and behind the spot fromwhence he had witnessed the disastrous conclusion of the fight. Butno sooner were they under shelter of the trees, than Seyton let go hishold, and, in spite of Roland's efforts to support him, fell at lengthon the turf. "Trouble yourself no more with me," he said; "this is myfirst and my last battle--and I have already seen too much to wishto see the close. Hasten to save the Queen--and commend me toCatherine--she will never more be mistaken for me nor I for her--thelast sword-stroke has made an eternal distinction."

  "Let me aid you to mount my horse," said Roland, eagerly, "and you mayyet be saved--I can find my own way on foot--turn but my horse's headwestward, and he will carry you fleet and easy as the wind."

  "I will never mount steed more," said the youth; "farewell--I love theebetter dying, than ever I thought to have done while in life--I wouldthat old man's blood were not on my hand!--_Sancte Benedicte, ora prome_--Stand not to look on a dying man, but haste to save the Queen!"

  These words were spoken with the last effort of his voice, and scarcewere they uttered ere the speaker was no more. They recalled Roland toa sense of the duty which he had well-nigh forgotten, but they did notreach his ears only.

  "The Queen--where is the Queen?" said Halbert Glendinning, who, followedby two or three horsemen, appeared at this instant. Roland made noanswer, but, turning his horse, and confiding in his speed, gave him atonce rein and spur, and rode over height and hollow towards the Castleof Crookstone. More heavily armed, and mounted upon a horse of lessspeed, Sir Halbert Glendinning followed with couched lance, calling outas he rode, "Sir, with the holly-branch, halt, and show your right tobear that badge--fly not thus cowardly, nor dishonour the cognizancethou deservest not to wear!--Halt, sir coward, or by Heaven, I willstrike thee with my lance on the back, and slay thee like a dastard--Iam the Knight of Avenel--I am Halbert Glendinning."

  But Roland, who had no purpose of encountering his old master, and who,besides, knew the Queen's safety depended on his making the best speedhe could, answered not a word to the defiances and reproaches which SirHalbert continued to throw out against him; but making the best use ofhis spurs, rode yet harder than before, and had gained about a hundredyards upon his pursuer, when, coming near to the yew-tree where he hadleft the Queen, he saw them already getting to horse, and cried outas loud as he could, "Foes! foes!--Ride for it, fair ladies--Bravegentlemen, do your devoir to protect them!"

  So saying, he wheeled his horse, and avoiding the shock of Sir HalbertGlendinning, charged one of that Knight's followers, who was nearly ona line with him, so rudely with his lance, that he overthrew horse andman. He then drew his sword and attacked the second, while the blackman-at-arms, throwing himself in the way of Glendinning, they rushed oneach other so fiercely, that both horses were overthrown, and the riderslay rolling on the plain. Neither was able to arise, for the blackhorseman was pierced through with Glendinning's lance, and the Knightof Avenel, oppressed with the weight of his own horse and sorely bruisedbesides, seemed in little better plight than he whom he had mortallywounded.

  "Yield thee, Sir Knight of Avenel, rescue or no rescue," said Roland,who had put a second antagonist out of condition to combat, and hastenedto prevent Glendinning from renewing the conflict.

  "I may not choose but yield," said Sir Halbert, "since I can no longerfight; but it shames me to speak such a word to a coward like thee!"

  "Call me not coward," said Roland, lifting his visor, and helping hisprisoner to rise, "since but for old kindness at thy hands, and yet moreat thy lady's, I had met thee as a brave man should."

  "The favourite page of my wife!" said Sir Halbert, astonished; "Ah!wretched boy, I have heard of thy treason at Lochleven."

  "Reproach him not, my brother," said the Abbot, "he was but an agent inthe hands of Heaven."

  "To horse, to horse!" said Catherine Seyton; "mount and begone, or weare all lost. I see our gallant army flying for many a league--To horse,my Lord Abbot--To horse, Roland--my gracious Liege, to horse! Ere this,we should have ridden many a mile."

  "Look on these features," said Mary, pointing to the dying knight, whohad been unhelmed by some compassionate hand; "look there, and tell meif she who ruins all who love her, ought to fly a foot farther to saveher wretched life!"

  The reader must have long anticipated the discovery which the Queen'sfeelings had made before her eyes confirmed it. It was the features ofthe unhappy George Douglas, on which death was stamping his mark.

  "Look--look at him well," said the Queen, "thus has it been with all wholoved Mary Stewart!--The royalty of Francis, the wit of Chastelar, thepower and gallantry of the gay Gordon, the melody of Rizzio, the portlyform and youthful grace of Darnley, the bold address and courtlymanners of Bothwell--and now the deep-devoted passion of the nobleDouglas--nought could save them!--they looked on the wretched Mary, andto have loved her was crime enough to deserve early death! No sooner hadthe victim formed a kind thought of me, than the poisoned cup, the axeand block, the dagger, the mine, were ready to punish them for castingaway affection on such a wretch as I am!--Importune me not--I will flyno farther--I can die but once, and I will die here."

  While she spoke, her tears fell fast on the face of the dying man, whocontinued to fix his eyes on her with an eagerness of passion, whichdeath itself could hardly subdue.--"Mourn not for me," he said faintly,"but care for your own safety--I die in mine armour as a Douglas should,and I die pitied by Mary Stewart!"

  He expired with these words, and without withdrawing his eyes from herface; and the Queen, whose heart was of that soft and gentle mould,which in domestic life, and with a more suitable partner than Darnley,might have made her happy, remained weeping by the dead man, untilrecalled to herself by the Abbot, who found it necessary to use a styleof unusual remonstrance. "We also, madam," he said, "we, your Grace'sdevoted followers, have friends and relatives to weep for. I leavea brother in imminent jeopardy--the husband of the Lady Fleming--thefather and brothers of the Lady Catherine, are all in yonder bloodyfield, slain, it is to be feared, or prisoners. We forget the fateof our nearest and dearest, to wait on our Queen, and she is too muchoccupied with her own sorrows to give one thought to ours."

  "I deserve not your reproach, father," said the Queen, checking hertears; "but I am docile to it--where must we go--what must we do?"

  "We must fly, and that instantly," said the Abbot; "whither is not soeasily answered, but we may dispute it upon the road--Lift her to hersaddle, and set forward."

  [Footnote: I am informed in the most polite manner, by D. MacVean, Esq.of Glasgow, that I have been incorrect in my locality, in giving anaccount of the battle of Langside. Crookstone Castle, he observes, liesfour miles west from the field of battle, and rather in the rear ofMurray's army. The real place from which Mary saw the rout of her lastarmy, was Cathcart Castle, which, being a mile and a half east fromLangside, was, situated in the rear of the Queen's own army. I was ledastray in the present case, by the authority of my deceased friend,James Grahame the excellent and amiable author of the Sabbath, in hisdrama on the subject of Queen Mary; and by a traditionary report of Maryhaving seen the battle from the Castle of Crookstone, which seemed somuch to increase the interest of th
e scene, that I have been unwillingto make, in this particular instance, the fiction give way to the fact,which last is undoubtedly in favour of Mr. MacVean's system.

  It is singular how tradition, which is sometimes a sure guide to truth,is, in other cases, prone to mislead us. In the celebrated field ofbattle at Killiecrankie, the traveller is struck with one of thoserugged pillars of rough stone, which indicate the scenes of ancientconflict. A friend of the author, well acquainted with the circumstancesof the battle, was standing near this large stone, and looking on thescene around, when a highland shepherd hurried down from the hill tooffer his services as cicerone, and proceeded to inform him, that Dundeewas slain at that stone, which was raised to his memory. "Fie, Donald."answered my friend, "how can you tell such a story to a stranger? Iam sure you know well enough that Dundee was killed at a considerabledistance from this place, near the house of Fascally, and that thisstone was here long before the battle, in 1688."--"Oich! oich!" saidDonald, no way abashed, "and your honour's in the right, and I see youken a' about it. And he wasna killed on the spot neither, but lived tillthe next morning; but a' the Saxon gentlemen like best to hear he waskilled at the great stane." It is on the same principle of pleasing myreaders, that I retain Crookstone Castle instead of Cathcart.

  If, however, the author has taken a liberty in removing the actual fieldof battle somewhat to the eastward, he has been tolerably strict inadhering to the incidents of the engagement, as will appear from itcomparison of events in the novel, with the following account from anold writer.

  "The Regent was out on foot and all his company, except the Laird ofGrange, Alexander Hume of Manderston, and some borderers to the numberof two hundred. The Laird of Grange had already viewed the ground, andwith all imaginable diligence caused every horseman to take behind hima footman of the Regent's, to guard behind them, and rode with speedto the head of Langside-hill, and set down the footmen with theirculverings at the head of a straight lane, where there were some cottagehouses and yards of great advantage. Which soldiers with their continualshot killed divers of the vaunt guard, led by the Hamiltons, who,courageously and fiercely ascending up the hill, were already out ofbreath, when the Regent's vaunt guard joined with them. Where theworthy Lord Hume fought on foot with his pike in his hand very manfully,assisted by the Laird of Cessford, his brother-in-law, who helped him upagain when he was strucken to the ground by many strokes upon his face,through the throwing pistols at him after they had been discharged. Hewas also wounded with staves, and had many strokes of spears through hislegs; for he and Grange, at the joining, cried to let their adversariesfirst lay down their spears, to bear up theirs; which spears were sothick fixed in the others' jacks, that some of the pistols and greatstaves that were thrown by them which were behind, might be seen lyingupon the spears.

  "Upon the Queen's side the Earl of Argyle commanded the battle, and theLord of Arbroth the vaunt guard. But the Regent committed to the Lairdof Grange the special care, as being an experimented captain, to overseeevery danger, and to ride to every wing, to encourage and make helpwhere greatest need was. He perceived, at the first joining, the rightwing of the Regent's vaunt guard put back and like to fly, whereof thegreatest part were commons of the barony of Renfrew; whereupon he rodeto them, and told them that their enemy was already turning their backs,requesting them to stay and debate till he should bring them fresh menforth of the battle. Whither at full speed he did ride alone, and toldthe Regent that the enemy were shaken and flying away behind the littlevillage, and desired a few number of fresh men to go with him. Where hefound enough willing, as the Lord Lindesay, the Laird of Lochleven,Sir James Balfour, and all the Regent's servants, who followed him withdiligence, and reinforced that wing which was beginning to fly; whichfresh men with their loose weapons struck the enemies in their flank andfaces, which forced them incontinent to give place and turn back afterlong fighting and pushing others to and fro with their spears. Therewere not many horsemen to pursue after them, and the Regent cried tosave and not to kill, and Grange was never cruel, so that there were fewslain and taken. And the only slaughter was at the first rencounterby the shot of the soldiers, which Grange had planted at the lane headbehind some dikes."

  It is remarkable that, while passing through the small town of Renfrew,some partisans, adherents of the House of Lennox, attempting to arrestQueen Mary and her attendants, were obliged to make way for her notwithout slaughter.]

  They set off accordingly--Roland lingered a moment to command theattendants of the Knight of Avenel to convey their master to the Castleof Crookstone, and to say that he demanded from him no other conditionof liberty, than his word, that he and his followers would keep secretthe direction in which the Queen fled. As he turned his rein todepart, the honest countenance of Adam Woodcock stared upon him with anexpression of surprise, which, at another time, would have excited hishearty mirth. He had been one of the followers who had experienced theweight of Roland's arm, and they now knew each other, Roland having putup his visor, and the good yeoman having thrown away his barret-cap,with the iron bars in front, that he might the more readily assist hismaster. Into this barret-cap, as it lay on the ground, Roland forgot notto drop a few gold pieces, (fruits of the Queen's liberality,) and witha signal of kind recollection and enduring friendship, he departed atfull gallop to overtake the Queen, the dust raised by her train beingalready far down the hill.

  "It is not fairy-money," said honest Adam, weighing and handling thegold--"And it was Master Roland himself, that is a certain thing--thesame open hand, and, by our Lady!" (shrugging his shoulders)--"the sameready fist!--My Lady will hear of this gladly, for she mourns for him asif he were her son. And to see how gay he is! But these light ladsare as sure to be uppermost as the froth to be on the top of thequart-pot--Your man of solid parts remains ever a falconer." So saying,he went to aid his comrades, who had now come up in greater numbers, tocarry his master into the Castle of Crookstone.