CHAPTER X.
It was a gallant, though, alas! but too small a force which, richly andbravely accoutred, with banners proudly flying, music sounding, superbchargers caparisoned for war, lances in rest, and spear and bill, swordand battle-axe, marched through the olden gates of Scone in asouth-westward direction, early on the morning of the 25th of June,1306. Many were the admiring eyes and yearning hearts which followedthem, and if doubt and dread did mingle in the fervid aspirations raisedfor their welfare and success, they were not permitted to gainascendency so long as the cheering tones and happy smiles of every oneof that patriot band lingered on the ear and sight. As yet there werebut few of the nobles and knights with their men. The troops had beencommanded to march leisurely forward, under charge of the esquires andgentlemen, who were mostly lieutenants or cornets to their leaders'respective bands of followers; and, if not overtaken before, to halt ina large meadow to the north of Perth, which lay in their way.
The knots of citizens, however, who had accompanied the army to thefarthest environs of the town, had not dispersed to their several homesere the quick, noisy clattering of a gallant troop of horse echoed alongthe street, and the king, surrounded by his highest nobles and bravestknights, galloped by, courteously returning the shouts and acclamationsof delight which hailed him on every side. His vizor was purposely leftup, and his noble countenance, beaming with animation and hope, seemedto inspire fresh hope and confidence in all that gazed. A white ostrichplume, secured to his helmet by a rich clasp of pearls and diamonds,fell over his left shoulder till it well-nigh mingled with the flowingmane of his charger, whose coal-black glossy hide was almost concealedbeneath the armor which enveloped him, and the saddle-cloth of crimsonvelvet, whose golden fringe nearly swept the ground. King Robert wasclothed in the same superb suit of polished steel armor, inlaid andcuriously wrought with ingrained silver, in which we saw him at first; acrimson scarf secured his trusty sword to his side, and a short mantleof azure velvet, embroidered with the golden thistle of Scotland, andlined with the richest sable, was secured at his throat by a splendidcollaret of gems. The costly materials of his dress, and, yet more, theeasy and graceful seat upon his charger, his chivalric bearing, and thefrank, noble expression of his countenance, made him, indeed, "lookevery inch a king," and might well of themselves have inspired andretained the devoted loyalty of his subjects, even had there been lessof chivalry in his daring rising.
Edward Bruce was close beside his brother. With a figure and appearanceequally martial and equally prepossessing, he wanted the quiet dignity,the self-possession of voice and feature which characterized the king.He had not the mind of Robert, and consequently the uppermost passion ofthe spirit was ever the one marked on his brow. On this morning he wasall animated smiles, for war was alike his vocation and his pastime.
Thomas and Alexander Bruce were also there, both gallant men andwell-tried warriors, and eager as Edward for close encounter with thefoe. The Earls of Lennox and Athol, although perhaps in their secretsouls they felt that the enterprise was rash, gave no evidence ofreluctance in their noble bearing; indeed, had they been certain ofmarching to their death, they would not have turned from the side ofBruce. The broad banner of Scotland, whose ample folds waved in themorning breeze, had been intrusted to the young heir of Buchan, who,with the other young and new-made knights, eager and zealous to wintheir spurs, had formed a body guard around the banner, swearing todefend it to the last moment of their lives. Nigel Bruce was one ofthese; he rode close beside his brother in arms, and midst that animatedgroup, those eager spirits throbbing for action, no heart beat quickerthan his own. All was animated life, anticipated victory; the veryheavens smiled as if they would shed no shadow on this patriot band.
It was scarcely two hours after noon when King Robert and his troopsarrived at the post assigned--the park or wood of Methven; and believingthat it was not till the succeeding day to which the challenge ofPembroke referred, he commanded his men to make every preparation for anight encampment. The English troops lay at about a quarter of a miledistant, on the side of a hill, which, as well as tree and furze wouldpermit, commanded a view of the Bruce's movements. There were tentserected, horses picketed, and every appearance of quiet, confirming theScotch in their idea of no engagement taking place till the morrow.
Aware of the great disparity of numbers, King Robert eagerly andanxiously examined his ground as to the best spot for awaiting theattack of the English. He fixed on a level green about half a milesquare, guarded on two sides by a thick wood of trees, on the third andleft by a deep running rivulet, and open on the fourth, encumbered onlyby short, thick bushes and little knots of thorn, which the kingwelcomed, as impeding the progress and obstructing the evolutions ofPembroke's horse. The bushes which were scattered about on the ground hehad chosen, he desired his men to clear away, and ere the sun neared hissetting, all he wished was accomplished, and his plan of battlearranged. He well remembered the impenetrable phalanx of the unfortunateWallace at the battle of Falkirk, and determined on exposing a steadyfront of spears in the same manner. Not having above thirty horse onwhom he could depend, and well aware they would be but a handful againstPembroke's two hundred, he placed them in the rear as a reserve, in thecentre of which waved the banner of Scotland. The remainder of histroops he determined on arranging in a compact crescent, the bow exposedto the English, the line stretching out against the wood. This was hisintended line of battle, but, either from mistake or purposed treacheryon the part of Pembroke, his plan was frustrated, and in addition to thegreat disparity of numbers he had to struggle with surprise.
The day had been extremely sultry, and trusting in full confidence tothe honor of his opponent, and willing to give his men all needful rest,the king dismissed them from their ranks to refreshment and repose,leaving but very few to guard, himself retiring with his older officersto a tent prepared for his reception.
Arm in arm, and deep in converse, Nigel Bruce and Alan of Buchanwandered a little apart from their companions, preferring a hasty mealand the calm beauty of a lovely summer evening, accompanied by arefreshing breeze, to remaining beside the rude but welcome meal, andsharing the festivity which enlivened it.
"Thinkest thou not, Nigel, his grace trusts but too fully to the honorof these Englishmen?" asked Alan, somewhat abruptly, turning theconversation from the dearer topics of Agnes and her mother, which hadbefore engrossed them.
"On my faith, if he judge of them by his own true, noble spirit, hejudges them too well."
"Nay, thou art over-suspicious, friend Alan," answered Nigel, smiling."What fearest thou?"
"I like not the absence of all guards, not so much for the safety of ourown camp, but to keep sharp watch on the movements of our friendsyonder. Nigel, there is some movement; they look not as they did an hourago."
"Impossible, quite impossible, Alan; the English knights are toochivalric, too honorable, to advance on us to-night. If they have made amovement, 'tis but to repose."
"Nigel, if Pembroke feel inclined to take advantage of our unguardedsituation, he will swear, as many have done before him, that a new daybegan with the twelve-chime bell of this morning, and be upon us ere weare aware; and I say again, there is movement, and warlike movement,too, in yonder army. Are tents deserted, and horses and men collected,for the simple purpose of retiring to rest? Come with me to yon mound,and see if I be not correct in my surmise."
Startled by Alan's earnest manner, despite his firm reliance onPembroke's honor, Nigel made no further objection, but hastened with himto the eminence he named. It was only too true. Silently and guardedlythe whole English army, extending much further towards Perth than wasvisible to the Scotch, had been formed in battle array, line after linestretching forth its glittering files, in too compact and animated arrayto admit of a doubt as to their intentions. The sun had completely sunk,and dim mists were spreading up higher and higher from the horizon,greatly aiding the treacherous movements of the English.
"By heavens, 'tis but
too true!" burst impetuously from Nigel's lips,indignation expressed in every feature. "Base, treacherous cowards! Hiethee to the king--fly for thy life--give him warning, while I endeavorto form the lines. In vain, utterly in vain!" he muttered, as Alan withthe speed of lightning darted down the slope. "They are formed--fresh,both man and horse--double, aye, more than treble our numbers; they willbe upon us ere the order of battle can be formed, and defeat _now_--"
He would not give utterance to the dispiriting truth which closed thatthought, but springing forward, dashed through fern and brake, andhalted not till he stood in the centre of his companions, who, scatteredin various attitudes on the grass, were giving vent, in snatches of songand joyous laughter, to the glee which filled their souls.
"Up! up!--the foe!" shouted Nigel, in tones so unlike the silveryaccents which in general characterized him, that his companionsstarted to their feet and grasped their swords, as roused by thesound of trumpet, "Pembroke is false: to arms--to your posts!Fitz-Alan--Douglas--sound an alarm, and, in heaven's name, aid me ingetting the men under arms! Be calm, be steady; display no alarm, noconfusion, and all may yet be well."
He was obeyed. The quick roll of the drum, the sharp, quick blast of thetrumpet echoed and re-echoed at different sides of the encampment; thecall to arms, in various stentorian tones, rung through the woodlandglades, quickly banishing all other sounds. Every man sprung at oncefrom his posture of repose, and gathered round their respective leaders;startled, confused, yet still in order, still animated, still confident,and yet more exasperated against their foe.
The appearance of their sovereign, unchanged in his composed and warlikemien, evincing perhaps yet more animation in his darkly flushing cheek,compressed lip, and sparkling eye; his voice still calm, though hiscommands were more than usually hurried; his appearance on every side,forming, arranging, encouraging, almost at the same instant--at onemoment exciting their indignation against the treachery of the foe, atothers appealing to their love for their country, their homes, theirwives, to their sworn loyalty to himself--inspired courage andconfidence at the same instant as he allayed confusion; but despiteevery effort both of leader and men, it needed time to form in thecompact order which the king had planned, and ere it was accomplished,nearer and nearer came the English, increasing their pace to a run asthey approached, and finally charging in full and overwhelming careeragainst the unprepared but gallant Scots. Still there was no waveringamid the Scottish troops; still they stood their ground, and forming,almost as they fought, in closer and firmer order, exposing the mightand unflinching steadiness of desperate men, determined on liberty ordeath, to the greater number and better discipline of their foe. Itmattered not that the fading light of day had given place to the darkershades of night, but dimly illumined by the rising moon--they struggledon, knowing as if by instinct friend from foe. And fearful was it towatch the mighty struggles from figures gleaming as gigantic shadows inthe darkness; now and then came a deep smothered cry or bursting groan,wrung from the throes of death, or the wild, piercing scream from aslaughtered horse, but the tongues of life were silent; the clang ofarmor, the clash of steel, the heavy fall of man and horse, indeed camefitfully and fearfully on the night breeze, and even as the bluespectral flash of summer lightning did the bright swords rise and fallin the thick gloom.
"Back, back, dishonored knight! back, recreant traitor!" shouted Jamesof Douglas; and his voice was heard above the roar of battle, and thosenear him saw him at the same instant spring from his charger, thrustback Pembroke and other knights who were thronging round him, and withunrivalled skill and swiftness aid a tall and well-known form to riseand spring on the horse he held for him. "Thinkest thou the sacredperson of the King of Scotland is for such as thee? back, I say!" And hedid force him, armed and on horseback as he was, many paces back, andRobert Bruce again galloped over the field, bareheaded indeed, for hishelmet had fallen off in the strife, urging, inciting, leading on yetagain to the charge. And it was in truth as if a superhuman strength andpresence had been granted the patriot king that night, for there wereveteran warriors there, alike English and Scotch, who paused even in thework of strife to gaze and tremble.
Again was he unhorsed, crushed by numbers--one moment more and he hadfallen into the hands of his foes, and Scotland had lain a slave foreverat the feet of England; but again was relief at hand, and the young Earlof Mar, dashing his horse between the prostrate monarch and histhronging enemies, laid the foremost, who was his own countryman, deadon the field, and remained fighting alone; his single arm dealing deadlyblows on every side at the same moment until Robert had regained hisfeet, and, though wounded and well-nigh exhausted, turned in fury to therescue of his preserver. It was too late; in an agony of spirit no pencan describe, he beheld his faithful and gallant nephew overpowered bynumbers and led off a captive, and he stood by, fighting indeed like alion, dealing death wherever his sword fell, but utterly unable torescue or defend him. Again his men thronged round him, their rallyingpoint, their inspiring hope, their guardian spirit; again he was onhorseback, and still, still that fearful strife continued. Aided by thedarkness, the Bruce in his secret soul yet encouraged one gleam of hope,yet dreamed of partial success, at least of avoiding that almost worsethan death, a total and irremediable defeat. Alas, had the daylightsuddenly illumined that scene, he would have felt, have seen that hopewas void.
Gallantly, meanwhile, gallantly even as a warrior of a hundred fields,had the young heir of Buchan redeemed his pledge to his sovereign, anddevoted sword and exposed life in his cause. The standard of Scotlandhad never touched the ground. Planting it firmly in the earth, he hadfor a while defended it nobly where he stood, curbing alike the highspirit of his prancing horse and his own intense longing to dash forwardin the thickest of the fight. He saw his companions fall one by one,till he was well-nigh left alone. He heard confused cries, as oftriumph; he beheld above twenty Englishmen dashing towards him, and hefelt a few brief minutes and his precious charge might be waved in scornas a trophy by the victors; the tide of battle had left him for aninstant comparatively alone, and in that instant his plan was formed.
"Strike hard, and fear not!" he cried to an old retainer, who stirrednot from his side; "divide this heavy staff, and I will yet protect mycharge, and thou and I, Donald, will to King Robert's side; he needs alltrue men about him now."
Even as he spoke his command was understood and obeyed. One sweep of thestout Highlander's battle-axe severed full four feet of the heavy lanceto which the standard was attached and enabled Alan without anyinconvenience to grasp in his left hand the remainder, from which thefolds still waved: grasping his sword firmly in his right, and givinghis horse the rein, shouting, "Comyn, to the rescue!" he darted towardsthe side where the strife waxed hottest.
It was a cry which alike startled friends and foes, for that name wasknown to one party as so connected with devotee adherence to Edward, tothe other so synonymous with treachery, that united as it was with "tothe rescue," some there were who paused to see whence and from whom itcame. The banner of Scotland quickly banished doubt as to which part;that youthful warrior belonged; knights and yeomen alike threwthemselves in his path to obtain possession of so dear a prize. Followedby about ten stalwart men of his clan, the young knight gallantly cuthis way through the greater number of his opponents, but a sudden gleamon the helmet of one of them caused him to halt suddenly.
"Ha! Sir Henry Seymour, we have met at length!" he shouted. "Thoubearest yet my gage--'tis well. I am here to redeem it."
"Give up that banner to a follower, then," returned Sir Henry,courteously, checking his horse in its full career, "for otherwise wemeet at odds. Thou canst not redeem thy gage, and defend thy charge atthe same moment."
"Give up my charge! Never, so help me heaven! Friend or foe shall claimit but with my life," returned Alan, proudly. "Come on, sir knight; I amhere to defend the honor thou hast injured--the honor of one dearer thanmy own."
"Have then thy will, proud boy: thy blood be on
thine own head," repliedSeymour; but ere he spurred on to the charge, he called aloud, "let nonecome between us, none dare to interfere--'tis a quarrel touching nonesave ourselves," and Alan bowed his head, in courteous recognition ofthe strict observance of the rules of chivalry in his adversary, at thevery moment that he closed with him in deadly strife; and such was warin the age of chivalry, and so strict were its rules, that even with thestandard of Scotland in his hand, the person of the heir of Buchan wassacred to all save to his particular opponent.
It was a brief yet determined struggle. Their swords crossed andrecrossed with such force and rapidity, that sparks of fire flashed fromthe blades; the aim of both appeared rather to unhorse and disarm thanslay: Seymour, perhaps, from admiration of the boy's extraordinarybravery and daring, and Alan from a feeling of respect for the truechivalry of the English knight. The rush of battle for a minuteunavoidably separated them. About four feet of the banner-staff yetremained uninjured, both in its stout wood and sharp iron head; withunparalleled swiftness, Alan partly furled the banner round the pike,and transferred it to his right hand, then grasping it firmly, andaiming full at Sir Henry's helm, backed his horse several paces to allowof a wider field, gave his steed the spur, and dashed forward quick asthe wind. The manoeuvre succeeded. Completely unprepared for thischange alike in weapon and attack, still dazzled and slightly confusedby the rush which had divided them, Sir Henry scarcely saw the youthfulknight, till he felt his helmet transfixed by the lance, and the blowguided so well and true, that irresistibly it bore him from his horse,and he lay stunned and helpless, but not otherwise hurt, at the mercy ofhis foe. Recovering his weapon, Alan, aware that the great disparity ofnumbers rendered the securing English prisoners but a mere waste oftime, contented himself by waving the standard high in air, and againshouting his war-cry, galloped impetuously on. Wounded he was, but heknew it not; the excitement, the inspiration of the moment was all hefelt.
"To the king--to the king!" shouted Nigel Bruce, urging his horse to theside of Alan, and ably aiding him to strike down their rapidlyincreasing foes. "Hemmed in on all sides, he will fall beneath theirthirsting swords. To the king--to the king! Yield he never will; andbetter he should not. On, on, for the love of life, of liberty, ofScotland!--on to the king!"
His impassioned words reached even hearts fainting 'neath exhaustion,failing in hope, for they knew they strove in vain; yet did that tone,those words rouse even them, and their flagging limbs grew strong forRobert's sake, and some yet reached the spot to fight and die aroundhim; others--alas! the greater number--fell ere the envied goal wasgained.
The sight of the royal standard drew, as Alan had hoped, the attentionof some from the king, and gave him a few moments to rally. Again therewas a moment of diversion in favor of the Scotch. The brothers of theBruce and some others of his bravest knights were yet around him,seemingly uninjured, and each and all appeared endowed with the strengthof two. The gigantic form of Edward Bruce, the whelming sweep of hisenormous battle-axe, had cleared a partial space around the king, butstill the foes hemmed in, reinforced even as they fell. About this timethe moon, riding high in the heavens, had banished the mists which hadenveloped her rising, and flung down a clear, silvery radiance over thewhole field, disclosing for the first time to King Robert the exactsituation in which he stood. Any further struggle, and defeat,imprisonment, death, all stared him in the face, and Scotland's libertywas lost, and forever. The agony of this conviction was known to nonesave to the sovereign's own heart, and to that Searcher of all, by whomits every throb was felt.
The wood behind him was still plunged in deep shadows, and he knew theGrampian Hills, with all their inaccessible paths and mountainfastnesses--known only to the true children of Scotland--could easily bereached, were the pursuit of the English eluded, which he believed couldbe easily accomplished, were they once enabled to retreat into the wood.
The consummate skill and prudence of the Bruce characterizing him as ageneral, even as his extraordinary daring and exhaustless courage markedthe warrior, enabled him to effect this precarious and delicatemovement, in the very sight of and almost surrounded by foes. Coveringhis troops, or rather the scattered remnant of troops, by exposing hisown person to the enemy, the king was still the first object of attack,the desire of securing his person, or, at least, obtaining possession ofhis head, becoming more and more intense. But it seemed as though aprotecting angel hovered round him: for he had been seen in every partof the field; wherever the struggle had been fiercest, he had been thecentre; twice he had been unhorsed, and bareheaded almost from thecommencement of the strife, yet there he was still, seemingly as firm inhis saddle, as strong in frame, as unscathed in limb, as determined inpurpose, as when he sent back his acceptance of Pembroke's challenge.Douglas, Fitz-Alan, Alexander and Nigel Bruce, and Alan of Buchan, stillbearing the standard, were close around the king, and it was in thistime of precaution, of less inspiriting service, that the young Alanbecame conscious that he was either severely wounded, or that thestrength he had taxed far beyond its natural powers was beginning tofail. Still mechanically he grasped the precious banner, and still hecrossed his sword with every foe that came; but the quick eye of Nigeldiscerned there was a flagging of strength, and he kept close beside himto aid and defend. The desired goal was just attained, the foes weredecreasing in numbers, for they were scattered some distance from eachother, determined on scouring the woods in search of fugitives, thehorses of the king and his immediate followers were urged to quickentheir pace, when an iron-headed quarrel, discharged from an arbalist,struck the royal charger, which, with a shrill cry of death, droppedinstantly, and again was the king unhorsed. The delay occasioned inextricating him from the fallen animal was dangerous in the extreme; thegreater part of his men were at some distance, for the king had orderedthem, as soon as the unfrequented hollows of the wood were reached, todisperse, the better to elude their pursuers. Douglas, Alexander Bruce,and Fitz-Alan had galloped on, unconscious of the accident, and Nigeland Alan were alone near him. A minute sufficed for the latter to springfrom his horse and aid the king to mount, and both entreated, conjuredhim to follow their companions, and leave them to cover his retreat. Awhile he refused, declaring he would abide with them: he would not socowardly desert them.
"Leave you to death!" he cried; "my friends, my children; no, no! Urgeme no more. If I may not save my country, I may _die_ for her."
"Thou shalt not, so help me heaven!" answered Nigel, impetuously. "King,friend, brother, there is yet time. Hence, I do beseech thee, hence.Nay, an thou wilt not, I will e'en forget thou art my king, and forcethee from this spot."
He snatched the reins of his brother's horse, and urging it with his ownto their fullest speed, took the most unfrequented path, and dashingover every obstacle, through brake and briar, and over hedge and ditch,placed him in comparative safety.
And was Alan deserted? Did his brother in arms, in his anxiety to savethe precious person of his royal brother, forget the tie that boundthem, and leave him to die alone? A sickening sense of inability, ofutter exhaustion, crept over the boy's sinking frame, inability even todrag his limbs towards the wood and conceal himself from his foes.Mechanically he at first stood grasping the now-tattered colors, as ifhis hand were nailed unto the staff, his foot rooted to the ground.There were many mingled cries, sending their shrill echoes on the nightbreeze; there were chargers scouring the plain; bodies of men passingand repassing within twenty yards of the spot where he stood, yet halfhidden by the deep shadow of a large tree, for some minutes he wasunobserved. An armed knight, with about twenty followers, were rushingby; they stopped, they recognized the banner; they saw the bowed anddrooping figure who supported it, they dashed towards him. With a strongeffort Alan roused himself from that lethargy of faintness. Nearer andnearer they came.
"Yield, or you die!" were the words borne to his ear, shrill, loud,fraught with death, and his spirit sprang up with the sound. He wavedhis sword above his head, and threw himself into a posture of d
efence;but ere they reached him, there was a sudden and rapid tramp of horse,and the voice of Nigel Bruce shouted--
"Mount, mount! God in heaven be thanked, I am here in time!"
Alan sprung into the saddle; he thought not to inquire how that chargerhad been found, nor knew he till some weeks after that Nigel had exposedhis own person to imminent danger, to secure one of the many steedsflying masterless over the plain. On, on they went, and frequently thehead of Alan drooped from very faintness to his saddle-bow, and Nigelfeared to see him fall exhausted to the earth, but still they pursuedtheir headlong way. Death was behind them, and the lives of all true andloyal Scotsmen were too precious to admit a pause.
The sun had risen when King Robert gazed round him on the remnant of histroops. It was a wild brake, amid surrounding rocks and mountains wherethey stood; a torrent threw itself headlong from a craggy steep, andmade its way to the glen, tumbling and roaring and dashing over theblack stones that opposed its way. The dark pine, the stunted fir, theweeping birch, and many another mountain tree, marked the naturalfertility of the soil, although its aspect seemed wild and rude. It wasto this spot the king had desired the fugitives to direct their severalways, and now he gazed upon all, all that were spared to him andScotland from that disastrous night. In scattered groups they stood orsate; their swords fallen from their hands, their heads drooping ontheir breasts, with the mien of men whose last hope had been cast on asingle die, and wrecked forever. And when King Robert thought of thefaithful men who, when the sun had set the previous evening, hadgathered round him in such devoted patriotism, such faithful love, andnow beheld the few there were to meet his glance, to give him thesympathy, the hope he needed, scarcely could he summon energy sufficientto speak against hope, to rally the failing spirits of his remainingfollowers. Mar, Athol, Hay, Fraser, he knew were prisoners, and he knew,too, that in their cases that word was but synonymous with death.Lennox, his chosen friend, individually the dearest of all hisfollowers, he too was not there, though none remembered his being taken;Randolph, his nephew, and about half of those gallant youths who not tendays previous had received and welcomed the honor of knighthood, in allthe high hopes and buoyancy of youth and healthful life; more, many morethan half the number of the stout yeomen, who had risen at his call torescue their land from chains--where now were these? Was it wonder thatthe king had sunk upon a stone, and bent his head upon his hands? Butspeedily he rallied; he addressed each man by name; he spoke comfort,hope, not lessening the magnitude of his defeat, but still promisingthem liberty--still promising that yet would their homes be redeemed,their country free; aye, even were he compelled to wander months, nay,years in those mountain paths, with naught about him but the title of aking; still, while he had life, would he struggle on for Scotland; stilldid he feel, despite of blighted hope, of bitter disappointment, that tohim was intrusted the sacred task of her deliverance. Would he, might hesink and relax in his efforts and resign his purpose, because his firstengagement was attended by defeat? had he done so, it was easy to havefound death on the field. Had he listened to the voice of despair, heconfessed, he would not have left that field alive.
"But I lived for my country, for ye, her children," he continued, hisvoice becoming impassioned in its fervor; "lived to redeem this night,to suffer on a while, to be your savior still. Will ye then desert me?will ye despond, because of one defeat--yield to despair, when Scotlandyet calls aloud? No, no, it cannot be!" and roused by his earnest, hiseloquent appeal, that devoted band sprung from their drooping posture,and kneeling at his feet, renewed their oaths of allegiance to him; theoath that bound them to seek liberty for Scotland. It was then, as oneby one advanced, the king for the first time missed his brother Nigeland the heir of Buchan; amidst the overwhelming bitterness of thoughtwhich had engrossed him, he had for a brief while forgotten theprecarious situation of Alan, and the determination of Nigel to seek andsave, or die with him; but now the recollection of both rushed upon him,and the flush which his eloquence had summoned faded at once, and thesudden expression of anguish passing over his features roused theattention of all who stood near him.
"They must have fallen," he murmured, and for the first time, in achanged and hollow voice. "My brother, my brother, dearest, best! can itbe that, in thy young beauty, thou, too, art taken from me?--and Alan,how can I tell his mother--how face her sorrow for her son?"
Time passed, and there was no sound; the visible anxiety of the kinghushed into yet deeper stillness the voices hushed before. His meaningwas speedily gathered from his broken words, and many mounted the craggyheights to mark if there might not yet be some signs of the missingones. Time seemed to linger on his flight. The intervening rocks andbushes confined all sounds within a very narrow space; but at length afaint unintelligible noise broke on the stillness, it came nearer,nearer still, a moment more and the tread of horses' hoofs echoedamongst the rocks--a shout, a joyful shout proclaimed them friends. Theking sprung to his feet. Another minute Nigel and Alan pressed aroundhim; with the banner still in his hand, Alan knelt and laid it at hissovereign's feet.
"From thy hand I received it, to thee I restore it," he said, but hisvoice was scarcely articulate; he bowed his head to press Robert'sextended hand to his lips, and sunk senseless at his feet.