CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.
Cry the wild war-note, let the champions pass, Do bravely each, and God defend the right; Upon Saint Andrew thrice can they thus cry, And thrice they shout on height, And then marked them on the Englishmen, As I have told you right. Saint George the bright, our ladies' knight, To name they were full fain; Our Englishmen they cried on height, And thrice they shout again. OLD BALLAD.
The extraordinary crisis mentioned in the preceding chapter, was thecause, as may be supposed, of the leaders on both sides now throwingaside all concealment, and displaying their utmost strength, bymarshalling their respective adherents; the renowned Knight of Douglas,with Sir Malcolm Fleming and other distinguished cavaliers, were seenin close consultation.
Sir John de Walton, startled by the first flourish of trumpets, whileanxiously endeavouring to secure a retreat for the Lady Augusta, was ina moment seen collecting his followers, in which he was assisted by theactive friendship of the Knight of Valence.
The Lady of Berkely showed no craven spirit at these warlikepreparations; she advanced, closely followed by the faithful Bertram,and a female in a riding-hood, whose face, though carefully concealed,was no other than that of the unfortunate Margaret de Hautlieu, whoseworst fears had been realized as to the faithlessness of her betrothedknight.
A pause ensued, which for some time no one present thought himself ofauthority sufficient to break.
At last the Knight of Douglas stepped forward and said, loudly, "I waitto know whether Sir John de Walton requests leave of James of Douglasto evacuate his castle without further wasting that daylight whichmight show us to judge a fair field, and whether he craves Douglas'sprotection in doing so?"
The Knight of Walton drew his sword. "I hold the Castle of Douglas," hesaid, "in spite of all deadly,--and never will I ask the protectionfrom any one which my own sword is competent to afford me."
"I stand by you, Sir John," said Aymer de Valence, "as your truecomrade, against whatever odds may oppose themselves to us."
"Courage, noble English," said the voice of Greenleaf; "take yourweapons in God's name. Bows and bills! bows and bills!--A messengerbrings us notice that Pembroke is in full march hither from the bordersof Ayrshire, and will be with us in half an hour. Fight on, gallantEnglish! Valence to the rescue! and long life to the gallant Earl ofPembroke!"
Those English within and around the church no longer delayed to takearms, and De Walton, crying out at the height of his voice, "I implorethe Douglas to look nearly to the safety of the ladies," fought his wayto the church door; the Scottish finding themselves unable to resistthe impression of terror which affected them at the sight of thisrenowned knight, seconded by his brother-in-arms, both of whom had beenso long the terror of the district. In the meantime, it is possiblethat De Walton might altogether have forced his way out of the church,had he not been met boldly by the young son of Thomas Dickson ofHazelside, while his father was receiving from Douglas the charge ofpreserving the stranger ladies from all harm from the fight, which, solong suspended, was now on the point of taking place.
De Walton cast his eye upon the Lady Augusta, with a desire of rushingto the rescue; but was forced to conclude, that he provided best forher safety by leaving her under the protection of Douglas's honour.
Young Dickson, in the meantime, heaped blow on blow, seconding with allhis juvenile courage every effort he could make, in order to attain theprize due to the conqueror of the renowned De Walton.
"Silly boy," at length said Sir John, who had for some time forbornethe stripling, "take, then, thy death from a noble hand, since thoupreferrest that to peace and length of days."
"I care not," said the Scottish youth, with his dying breath; "I havelived long enough, since I have kept you so long in the place where younow stand."
And the youth said truly, for as he fell never again to rise, theDouglas stood in his place, and without a word spoken, again engagedwith De Walton in the same formidable single combat, by which they hadalready been distinguished, but with even additional fury. Aymer deValence drew up to his friend De Walton's left hand, and seemed but todesire the apology of one of Douglas's people attempting to second him,to join in the fray; but as he saw no person who seemed disposed togive him such opportunity, he repressed the inclination, and remainedan unwilling spectator. At length it seemed as if Fleming, who stoodforemost among the Scottish knights, was desirous to measure his swordwith De Valence. Aymer himself, burning with the desire of combat, atlast called out, "Faithless Knight of Boghall! step forth and defendyourself against the imputation of having deserted your lady-love, andof being a man-sworn disgrace to the rolls of chivalry!"
"My answer," said Fleming, "even to a less gross taunt, hangs by myside." In an instant his sword was in his hand, and even the practisedwarriors who looked on felt difficulty in discovering the progress ofthe strife, which rather resembled a thunder storm in a mountainouscountry than the stroke and parry of two swords, offending on the oneside, and keeping the defensive on the other.
Their blows were exchanged with surprising rapidity; and although thetwo combatants did not equal Douglas and De Walton in maintaining acertain degree of reserve, founded upon a respect which these knightsmutually entertained for each other, yet the want of art was suppliedby a degree of fury, which gave chance at least an equal share in theissue.
Seeing their superiors thus desperately engaged, the partisans, as theywere accustomed, stood still on either side, and looked on with thereverence which they instinctively paid to their commanders and leadersin arms. One or two of the women were in the meanwhile attracted,according to the nature of the sex, by compassion for those who hadalready experienced the casualties of war. Young Dickson, breathing hislast among the feet of the combatants, [Footnote: [The fall of this,brave stripling by the hand of the English governor, and the sternheroism of the father in turning from the spot where he lay, "a modelof beauty and strength," that he might not be withdrawn from the dutywhich Douglas had assigned him of protecting the Lady of Berkely,excites an interest for both, with which it is almost to be regrettedthat history interferes. It was the old man, Thomas Dickson, not hisson, who fell. The _slogan_, "a Douglas, a Douglas," having beenprematurely raised, Dickson, who was within the church, thinking thathis young Lord with his armed band was at hand, drew his sword, andwith only one, man to assist him, opposed the English, who now rushedto the door. Cut across the middle by an English sword, he stillcontinued his opposition, till he fell lifeless at the threshold. Suchis tradition, and it is supported by a memorial of some authority--atombstone, still to be seen in the church-yard of Douglas, on winch issculptured a figure of Dickson, supporting with his left arm hisprotruding entrails, and raising his sword with the other in theattitude of combat.]--_Note by the Rev, Mr. Stewart of Douglas_.] wasin some sort rescued from the tumult by the Lady of Berkely, in whomthe action seemed less strange, owing to the pilgrim's dress which shestill retained, and who in vain endeavoured to solicit the attention ofthe boy's father to the task in which she was engaged.
"Cumber yourself not, lady, about that which is bootless," said oldDickson, "and distract not your own attention and mine from preservingyou, whom it is the Douglas's wish to rescue, and whom, so please Godand St. Bride, I consider as placed by my Chieftain under my charge.Believe me, this youth's death is in no way forgotten, though this benot the time to remember it. A time will come for recollection, and anhour for revenge."
So said the stern old man, reverting his eyes from the bloody corpsewhich lay at his feet, a model of beauty and strength. Having taken onemore anxious look, he turned round, and placed himself where he couldbest protect the Lady of Berkely, not again turning his eyes on hisson's body.
In the interim the combat continued, without the least cessation oneither side, and without a decided advantage. At length, however, fateseemed disposed to interfere; the Knight of Fleming, pushing fiercelyforward, and brought by
chance almost close to the person of the LadyMargaret de Hautlieu, missed his blow, and his foot sliding in theblood of the young victim, Dickson, he fell before his antagonist, andwas in imminent danger of being at his mercy, when Margaret deHautlieu, who inherited the soul of a warrior, and, besides, was a verystrong, as well as an undaunted person, seeing a mace of no greatweight lying on the floor, where it had been dropped by the fallenDickson, it, at the same instant, caught her eye, armed her hand, andintercepted, or struck down the sword of Sir Aymer de Valence, whowould otherwise have remained the master of the day at that interestingmoment. Fleming had more to do to avail himself of an unexpected chanceof recovery, than to make a commentary upon the manner in which it hadbeen so singularly brought about; he instantly recovered the advantagehe had lost, and was able in the ensuing close to trip up the feet ofhis antagonist, who fell on the pavement, while the voice of hisconqueror, if he could properly be termed such, resounded through thechurch with the fatal words, "Yield thee, Aymer de Valence--rescue orno rescue--yield thee! --yield ye!" he added, as he placed his sword tothe throat of the fallen knight, "not to me, but to this noblelady--rescue or no rescue."
With a heavy heart the English knight perceived that he had lost sofavourable an opportunity of acquiring fame, and was obliged to submitto his destiny, or be slain upon the spot. There was only oneconsolation, that no battle was ever more honourably sustained, beinggained as much by accident as by valour.
The fate of the protracted and desperate combat between Douglas and DeWalton did not much longer remain in suspense; indeed, the number ofconquests in single combat achieved by the Douglas in these wars, wasso great, as to make it doubtful whether he was not, in personalstrength and skill, even a superior knight to Bruce himself, and he wasat least acknowledged nearly his equal in the art of war.
So however it was, that when three quarters of an hour had passed inhard contest, Douglas and De Walton, whose nerves were not actually ofiron, began to show some signs that their human bodies were feeling theeffect of the dreadful exertion. Their blows began to be drawn moreslowly, and were parried with less celerity. Douglas, seeing that thecombat must soon come to an end, generously made a signal, intimatingto his antagonist to hold his hand for an instant.
"Brave De Walton," he said, "there is no mortal quarrel between us, andyou must be sensible that in this passage of arms, Douglas, though heis only worth his sword and his cloak, has abstained from taking adecisive advantage when the chance of arms has more than once offeredit. My father's house, the broad domains around it, the dwelling, andthe graves of my ancestors, form a reasonable reward for a knight tofight for, and call upon me in an imperative voice the prosecute tostrife which has such an object, while you are as welcome to the noblelady, in all honour and safety, as if you had received her from thehands of King Edward himself; and I give you my word, that the utmosthonours which can attend a prisoner, and a careful absence of everything like injury or insult, shall attend De Walton when he yields upthe castle, as well as his sword to James of Douglas."
"It is the fate to which I am perhaps doomed," replied Sir John deWalton; "but never will I voluntarily embrace it, and never shall it besaid that my own tongue, saving in the last extremity, pronounced uponme the fatal sentence to sink the point of my own sword. Pembroke isupon the march with his whole army, to rescue the garrison of Douglas.I hear the tramp of his horse's feet even now; and I will maintain myground while I am within reach of support; nor do I fear that thebreath which now begins to fail will not last long enough to uphold thestruggle till the arrival of the expected succour. Come on, then, andtreat me not as a child, but as one who, whether I stand or fall, fearsnot to encounter the utmost force of my knightly antagonist."
"So be it then," said Douglas, a darksome hue, like the lurid colour ofthe thunder-cloud, changing his brow as he spoke, intimating that hemeditated a speedy end to the contest, when, just as the noise ofhorses' feet drew nigh, a Welsh knight, known as such by the diminutivesize of his steed, his naked limbs, and his bloody spear, called outloudly to the combatants to hold their hands.
"Is Pembroke near?" said De Walton.
"No nearer than Loudon Hill," said the Prestantin; "but I bring hiscommands to John de Walton."
"I stand ready to obey them through every danger," answered the knight.
"Woe is me," said the Welshman, "that my mouth should bring to the earsof so brave a man tidings so unwelcome! The Earl of Pembroke yesterdayreceived information that the castle of Douglas was attacked by the sonof the deceased Earl, and the whole inhabitants of the district.Pembroke, on hearing this, resolved to march to your support, nobleknight, with all the forces he had at his disposal. He did so, andaccordingly entertained every assurance of relieving the castle, whenunexpectedly he met, on Loudon Hill, a body of men of no very inferiorforce to his own, and having at their head that famous Bruce whom theScottish rebels acknowledge as their king. He marched instantly to theattack, swearing he would not even draw a comb through his grey bearduntil he had rid England of his recurring plague. But the fate of warwas against us."
He stopt here for lack of breath.
"I thought so!" exclaimed Douglas. "Robert Bruce will now sleep atnight, since he has paid home Pembroke for the slaughter of his friendsand the dispersion of his army at Methuen Wood. His men are, indeed,accustomed to meet with dangers, and to conquer them: those who followhim have been trained under Wallace, besides being partakers of theperils of Bruce himself. It was thought that the waves had swallowedthem when they shipped themselves from the west; but know, that theBruce was determined with the present reviving spring to awaken hispretensions, and that he retires not from Scotland again while helives, and while a single lord remains to set his foot by hissovereign, in spite of all the power which has been so feloniouslyemployed against him."
"It is even too true," said the Welshman Meredith, "although it is saidby a proud Scotchman.--The Earl of Pembroke, completely defeated, isunable to stir from Ayr, towards which he has retreated with greatloss: and he sends his instructions to Sir John de Walton, to make thebest terms he can for the surrender of the Castle of Douglas, and trustnothing to his support."
The Scottish, who heard this unexpected news, joined in a shout so loudand energetic, that the ruins of the ancient church seemed actually torock and threaten to fall on the heads of those who were crowded withinit.
The brow of De Walton was overclouded at the news of Pembroke's defeat,although in some respects it placed him at liberty to take measures forthe safety of the Lady of Berkely. He could not, however, claim thesame honourable terms which had been offered to him by Douglas beforethe news of the battle of Loudon Hill had arrived.
"Noble knight," he said, "it is entirely at your pleasure to dictatethe terms of surrender of your paternal castle; nor have I a right toclaim from you those conditions which, a little while since, yourgenerosity put in my offer. But I submit to my fate; and upon whateverterms you think fit to grant me, I must be content to offer tosurrender to you the weapon, of which I now put the point in the earth,in evidence that I will never more direct it against you until a fairransom shall place it once more at my own disposal."
"God forbid," answered the noble James of Douglas, "that I should takesuch advantage of the bravest knight out of not a few who have found mework in battle! I will take example from the Knight of Fleming, who hasgallantly bestowed his captive in guerdon upon a noble damsel herepresent; and in like manner I transfer my claim upon the person of theredoubted Knight of Walton, to the high and noble Lady Augusta Berkely,who, I hope, will not scorn to accept from the Douglas a gift which thechance of war has thrown into his hands."
Sir John de Walton, on hearing this unexpected decision, looked up likethe traveller who discovers the beams of the sun breaking through anddispersing the tempest which has accompanied him for a whole morning.The Lady of Berkely recollected what became her rank, and showed hersense of the Douglas's chivalry. Hastily wiping off the tears which hadunwillingly
flowed to her eyes, while her lover's safety and her ownwere resting on the precarious issue of a desperate combat, she assumedthe look proper to a heroine of that age, who did not feel averse toaccept the importance which was conceded to her by the general voice ofthe chivalry of the period. Stepping forward, bearing her persongracefully, yet modestly, in the attitude of a lady accustomed to belooked to in difficulties like the present, she addressed the audiencein a tone which might not have misbecome the Goddess of Battledispersing her influence at the close of a field covered with the deadand the dying.
"The noble Douglas," she said, "shall not pass without a prize from thefield which he has so nobly won. This rich string of brilliants, whichmy ancestor won from the Sultan of Trebisond, itself a prize of battle,will be honoured by sustaining, under the Douglas's armour, a lock ofhair of the fortunate lady whom the victorious lord has adopted for hisguide in. chivalry; and if the Douglas, till he shall adorn it withthat lock, will permit the honoured lock of hair which it now bears toretain its station, she on whose head it grew will hold it as a signalthat poor Augusta de Berkely is pardoned for having gaged any mortalman in strife with the Knight of Douglas."
"Woman's love," replied the Douglas, "shall not divorce this locketfrom my bosom, which I will keep till the last day of my life, asemblematic of female worth and female virtue. And, not to encroach uponthe valued and honoured province of Sir John de Walton, be it known toall men, that whoever shall say that the Lady Augusta of Berkely has,in this entangled matter, acted otherwise than becomes the noblest ofher sex, he will do well to be ready to maintain such a propositionwith his lance, against James of Douglas, in a fair field."
This speech was heard with approbation on all sides; and the newsbrought by Meredith of the defeat of the Earl of Pembroke, and hissubsequent retreat, reconciled the fiercest of the English soldiers tothe surrender of Douglas Castle. The necessary conditions were speedilyagreed on, which put the Scottish in possession of this stronghold,together with the stores, both of arms and ammunition, of every kindwhich it contained. The garrison had it to boast, that they obtained afree passage, with their horses and arms, to return by the shortest andsafest route to the marches of England, without either suffering orinflicting damage.
Margaret of Hautlieu was not behind in acting a generous part; thegallant Knight of Valence was allowed to accompany his friend De Waltonand the Lady Augusta to England, and without ransom.
The venerable prelate of Glasgow, seeing what appeared at one timelikely to end in a general conflict, terminate so auspiciously for hiscountry, contented himself with bestowing his blessing on the assembledmultitude, and retiring with those who came to assist in the service ofthe day.
This surrender of Douglas Castle upon the Palm Sunday of 19th March,1306-7, was the beginning of a career of conquest which wasuninterrupted, in which the greater part of the strengths andfortresses of Scotland were yielded to those who asserted the libertyof their country, until the crowning mercy was gained in the celebratedfield of Bannockburn, where the English sustained a defeat moredisastrous than is mentioned upon any other occasion in their annals.
Little need be said of the fate of the persons of this story. KingEdward was greatly enraged at Sir John de Walton for having surrenderedthe Castle of Douglas, securing at the same time his own object, theenvied hand of the heiress of Berkely. The knights to whom he referredthe matter as a subject of enquiry, gave it nevertheless as theiropinion that De Walton was void of all censure, having discharged hisduty in its fullest extent, till the commands of his superior officerobliged him to surrender tho Dangerous Castle.
A singular renewal of intercourse took place, many months afterwards,between Margaret of Hautlieu and her lover, Sir Malcolm Fleming. Theuse which the lady made of her freedom, and of the doom of the ScottishParliament, which put her in possession of her father's inheritance,was to follow her adventurous spirit through dangers not usuallyencountered by those of her sex; and the Lady of Hautlieu was not onlya daring follower of the chase, but it was said that she was even notdaunted in the battlefield. She remained faithful to the politicalprinciples which she had adopted at an early period; and it seemed asif she had formed the gallant resolution of shaking the god Cupid fromher horse's mane, if not treading him beneath her horse's feet.
The Fleming, although he had vanished from the neighbourhood of thecounties of Lanark and Ayr, made an attempt to state his apology to theLady de Hautlieu herself, who returned his letter unopened, andremained to all appearance resolved never again to enter upon the topicof their original engagement. It chanced, however, at a later period ofthe war with England, while Fleming was one night travelling upon theBorder, after the ordinary fashion of one who sought adventures, awaiting-maid, equipped in a fantastic habit, asked the protection ofhis arm in the name of her lady, who, late in the evening, had beenmade captive, she said, by certain ill-disposed caitiffs, who werecarrying her by force through the forest. The Fleming's lance was, ofcourse, in its rest, and woe betide the faitour whose lot it was toencounter its thrust; the first fell, incapable of further combat, andanother of the felons encountered the same fate with little moreresistance. The lady, released from the discourteous cord whichrestrained her liberty, did not hesitate to join company with the braveknight by whom she had been rescued; and although the darkness did notpermit her to recognise her old lover in her liberator, yet she couldnot but lend a willing ear to the conversation with which heentertained her, as they proceeded on the way. He spoke of the fallencaitiffs as being Englishmen, who found a pleasure in exercisingoppression and barbarities upon the wandering damsels of Scotland, andwhose cause, therefore, the champions of that country were bound toavenge while the blood throbbed in their veins. He spoke of theinjustice of the national quarrel which had afforded a pretence forsuch deliberate oppression; and the lady, who herself had suffered somuch by the interference of the English in the affairs of Scotland,readily acquiesced in the sentiments which he expressed on a subjectwhich she had so much reason for regarding as an afflicting one. Heranswer was given in the spirit of a person who would not hesitate, ifthe times should call for such an example, to defend even with her handthe rights which she asserted with her tongue.
Pleased with the sentiments which she expressed, and recognising in hervoice that secret charm, which, once impressed upon the human heart, israrely wrought out of the remembrance by a long train of subsequentevents, he almost persuaded himself that the tones were familiar tohim, and had at one time formed the key to his innermost affections. Inproceeding on their journey, the knight's troubled state of mind wasaugmented instead of being diminished. The scenes of his earliest youthwere recalled by circumstances so slight, as would in ordinary caseshave produced no effect whatever; the sentiments appeared similar tothose which his life had been devoted to enforce, and he half persuadedhimself that the dawn of day was to be to him the beginning of afortune equally singular and extraordinary.
In the midst of this anxiety, Sir Malcolm Fleming had no anticipationthat the lady whom he had heretofore rejected was again thrown into hispath, after years of absence; still less, when daylight gave him apartial view of his fair companion's countenance, was he prepared tobelieve that he was once again to term himself the champion of Margaretde Hautlieu, but it was so. The lady, on that direful morning when sheretired from the church of Douglas, had not resolved (indeed what ladyever did?) to renounce, without some struggle, the beauties which shehad once possessed. A long process of time, employed under skilfulhands, had succeeded in obliterating the scars which remained as themarks of her fall. These were now considerably effaced, and the lostorgan of sight no longer appeared so great a blemish, concealed, as itwas, by a black ribbon, and the arts of the tirewoman, who made it herbusiness to shadow it over by a lock of hair. In a word, he saw thesame Margaret de Hautlieu, with no very different style of expressionfrom that which her face, partaking of the high and passionatecharacter of her soul, had always presented. It seemed to both,therefore, that their fa
te, by bringing them together after aseparation which appeared so decisive, had intimated its _fiat_ thattheir fortunes were inseparable from each other. By the time that thesummer sun had climbed high in the heavens, the two travellers rodeapart from their retinue, conversing together with an eagerness whichmarked the important matters of discussion between them; and in a shorttime it was made generally known through Scotland, that Sir MalcolmFleming and the Lady Margaret de Hautlieu were to be united at thecourt of the good King Robert, and the husband invested with thehonours of Biggar and Cumbernauld, an earldom so long known in thefamily of Fleming.
The gentle reader is acquainted, that these are, in all probability,the last tales which it will be the lot of the Author to submit to thepublic. He is now on the eve of visiting foreign parts; a ship of waris commissioned by its Royal Master to carry the Author of Waverley toclimates in which he may possibly obtain such a restoration of healthas may serve him to spin his thread to an end in his own country. Hadhe continued to prosecute his usual literary labours, it seems indeedprobable, that at the term of years he has already attained, the bowl,to use the pathetic language of Scripture, would have been broken atthe fountain; and little can one, who has enjoyed on the whole anuncommon share of the most inestimable of worldly blessings, beentitled to complain, that life, advancing to its period, should beattended with its usual proportions of shadows and storms. They haveaffected him at least in no more painful manner than is inseparablefrom the discharge of this part of the debt of humanity. Of those whoserelation to him in the ranks of life might have ensured him theirsympathy under indisposition, many are now no more; and those who mayyet follow in his wake, are entitled to expect, in bearing inevitableevils, an example of firmness and patience, more especially on the partof one who has enjoyed no small good fortune during the course of hispilgrimage.
The public have claims on his gratitude, for which the Author ofWaverley has no adequate means of expression; but he may be permittedto hope, that the powers of his mind, such as they are, may not have adifferent date from those of his body; and that he may again meet hispatronising friends, if not exactly in his old fashion of literature,at least in some branch, which may not call forth the remark, that--
"Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage."
ABBOTSFORD, _September_, 1831.
END OF CASTLE DANGEROUS.