Volume I Part 15 (1/2)
Tam Craik pursued his enemy, although apparently not with a fixed design of overtaking him; and Gibby, being thus left all alone with the two inverted horses and the incensed moss-trooper, extended his voice to an amazing pitch, for he knew not what state of health and strength his opponent retained. This was a horrid consideration; for if he should disengage himself and get up first, there was an end of him of the Peatstacknowe. His nasal twine was increased by his dread, and he cried so vehemently, that his cries grew like the cries of a peac.o.c.k.
Charlie Scott rode up to the main group, who continued to advance at a quiet pace, for they knew nothing as yet of the approaching danger. He also called and made signs to Tam Craik to return; and as soon as he came up to them he pointed out their pursuers, and charged them to ride for their lives. ”We are betrayed,” said he; but the horses of our enemies are jaded, ours are fresh; therefore, brave lads, in our master's name, spare neither spur, nor horse-flesh. Haud on your way, an' never look ower your shoulders: you will find Corby an' me twa gude back friends.”
The friar bent himself forward over the mane of his mule, and opening his eyes wide abroad, he put the spurs to his steed, and set off ”with the swiftness of the roe-buck or the hart,” as he termed it.
The boy pursued hard after him; and the bard, taking hold of Delany's bridle by both reins below the neck, for fear her steed should stumble and throw his lovely rider, bade her whip on and fear nothing, and in this friendly guise they also made good speed. Charlie then galloped back to see if any life remained in his friend Gibby,--for he only saw him at a distance go down in the encounter, without being exactly versed in the circ.u.mstances of his overthrow; but he thought he heard one loud squeak arise from the field after the rest had left it, something like that sent forth by the small drone of the bagpipe; and, guessing that the laird was yet alive, he galloped back to see. By the way he met the deil's Tam, who returned with him, and when they came in view of the spot where the two prostrate heroes had been left, they saw a very curious scene, the more curious because it was transacted by our worthy laird in the presiding belief that he was not seen, for he was too much concerned in his own affairs to perceive the approach of his friends.
The Englishman's horse making an exertion, by pressing his feet against the ribs of the laird's Davie, by that means pushed himself forward, and Gibby perceived plainly that his enemy was to be first released. The struggles that Gibby then made were enormous. ”Happ, Davie, happ!” cried he: ”O mother of G.o.d, what shall become of me! Happ, Davie, happ, my man; happ, happ, happ!” and, as a last resource, he reared up his body and struck at the Englishman's limb that was above his horse, crying out to Davie to happ, in bitterness of soul. Davie was not long; for the next moment after the Englishman's horse rose, he got up also, his feet then getting to the ground; but the stirrup that had been under him was crushed together, and there his master's foot remained fixed. Gibby was worse than ever. ”Wo, Davie, wo! Tproo, ye thief!” cried he. Davie, finding the weight at his side, wheeled about, and dragged the unfortunate laird round across the breast of the trooper Hall, who seized him by the neck. ”Was there ever a man guidit this gate!” cried Gibby. ”Honest man, an ye please, let gae; it wasna me that hurt ye.”
The man answered him not; but Davie being scared by the struggle sprung aside, and the Englishman keeping his hold, Gilbert's foot was released by the loss of his boot. He was not long in making a bold effort to rise, and though Hall hung by his neck a little, it had been in the last agony of receding life that he had seized him, and he dropped dead on the green, having both fists clenched on his breast, in the act of still holding his rival.
When Gibby saw how matters stood, he began to value himself on his courage. ”I's gar ye! I's gar ye!” cried he, lifting up his sword, and giving the dead man several desperate gashes, and always between every stroke repeating, ”H'm! I's gar ye!” His two friends being now hard beside him, the sound of their horses' feet made him start; but lifting his eye, and perceiving who they were, he again repeated his blows, and continued his threats in a louder key.--”H'm! I's gar ye! I's gar ye, billy! I's learn you to throttle me!”
”Fy, lay on, laird!” cried Tam; ”dinna ye see that the man's no half dead yet?”
”I think I hae done for him;” said Gibby: ”He brings me a-mind o' a wife that had to kill her cat thrice ower. I's learn the best o' the haggies-headed Ha's to meddle wi' me!”
”I think he'll do that ane, however, Gibby; if he had e'en the nine lives o' the wife's cat,” said Charlie: ”therefore, an ye please, put up your sword, an' mount your horse. It's no a time now to examine whether ye hae behaved in a sodger-like manner wi' that bold trooper. If I wist ye had not, it should be the last hour I should ride in your company--but mount quick an' ride; for see whar the rest o' the Ha's are coming across us. Ilk horse an' man do what he can, or dear will be our raide, an' yours, friend, the dearest of a'.”
One look filled Gilbert's eye. He mounted Davie, with the one boot off and the other on, and there was little occasion to bid him ride. Before they turned the corner of the hill, their pursuers came so close on them, that they looked very like cutting off their retreat; but a bog, around which the English were forced to cast a wide circuit, saved our three heroes, and gave them the start, by fully a half mile, of their foes, who still came in a straggling way as their horses could keep up.
After a hard chace of two Scottish miles they came up with the friar, whose mule being too heavy loaden had begun to f.a.g. When he saw them gaining on him so hard, he judged that all was over with him, and spurred on his jaded beast in vain. ”O that my flesh were as my armour or my clothing,” cried he, ”that I might put it off at will, and escape from the face of mine enemies. Lo! I shall be left all alone, and surrounded and taken and slain.” As he divined, so it fell out; the others were soon by him, and he was left the hindermost. Then they heard him lamenting to himself in his own sublime eastern stile, that he had not the wings of the eagle or the dove, that he might bear away to the mountains and the cliffs of the rocky hills, to elude the dreadful weapons of death, so often reared over his head, and so often warded by the arm of heaven.
”Poor devil!” said muckle Charlie, the tear standing in his eye; ”Od I canna leave him after a'. Come what will, I for ane shall stand or fa'
wi' him. I whiles think there's mair in that body than we moorland men wot of,--I canna leave him to be cut in pieces.”
”O fy, let him tak his chance,” said Tam; ”let him bide his weird; he deserves it a'. What signifies the creature? He's just a thing made up o' hypocritical rant, empty words, and stuffed paunches. Let him bide the buffet that fa's to his share.”
”Ay, what signifies sic a corpulation?” said Jordan. ”It will be lang or _he_ bring down man an' horse in an encounter. He brings me in mind o' a capon that claps his wings, but craws nane. Let him tak his chance.”
”Na, but callans, troth my heart winna let me,” said Charlie: ”For his good deeds, or his ill anes he's answerable to heaven, an' neither to you nor me. But he's a fellow creature, an' has nane to look to for help but us at this time. Life's sweet to us a', an' it's unco hard to leave our master's bedesman just to be sacrificed. Therefore, come what will, I'll turn an' lend the friar a hand. As for you twa, ride on; the young couple that are committed to our charge may escape.” With that he wheeled Corby's head about, and rode back to meet the gospel friar.
When he met him, the foremost of the riders had advanced within a bow shot, and was fast gaining ground. The friar still continued to spur on, and though his mule likewise continued the motion of one that gallops, the progress that he made was hardly discernible. He had a sort of up and down hobble that was right laughable to behold in one riding for his life. When he saw the dauntless Yardbire return to meet him, with his large seven feet sword drawn, and heaved over his right shoulder, he lifted up his voice and wept, and he said unto him;--”Blessed be thou, my son! The blessing of a man ready to perish light upon thee! And now, lo, I will draw forth my sword and return with thee to the charge, and thou shalt see what a poor bedesman can do.”
”It is brawly said, good friar,--but gin ye wad save yoursel' an' me, ride. An we could but mak the end o' the Thief-gate, they should buy our twa lives dear. If thou wilt but exert man an' beast, father, you an' I shall fight, flee, or fa' thegither. But see, we are already overtaken, and in the enemy's hands.”
The foremost of the riders was now hard behind them; but, perceiving Charlie, he reined up his horse and looked back for his comrades. The friar gave a glance back, and he said, ”Lo, thou art a mighty man of valour, and behold there is but one; do thou fall upon him and smite him; why should one pursue two?”
”I hae heard waur advices frae mair warlike men,” said Charlie; ”Ride ye on, father, an' lose nae time. Gude faith! I sal gie this ane his breakfast.”
Charlie as he said this put the spurs to Corby, and rode full speed against the pursuer. The trooper set himself firm in his stirrups and a.s.sumed his defence, for he saw from the prowess of Corby that it was vain to fly. Just as Charlie's mighty sword was descending on his casque, a check that he gave his horse in the hurry of the moment made him rear on end, and Charlie's stroke coming down between his ears, clove his head almost into two halves. The horse reeled and fell; but how it fared with his rider, Charlie never knew; for before he got his horse turned, there were other three of the Halls close at hand. Charlie fled amain. He was nothing afraid of himself, for he knew Corby could outstrip them by one half of the way; but his heart bled for the poor friar, whom he saw he would either be obliged to leave, or fight for him against such odds as it would be madness to withstand. The friar had, however gained the height, and having now a long sloping descent all the way to the Thief-gate-end, he was posting on at an improved pace.
Charlie had one sole hope remaining of saving the friar, and that was the gaining the above-mentioned point before they were overtaken. The warriors carried no whips in those days, depending altogether on the ample spur,--therefore Charlie, as a last resource, pulled down a large branch from a hazel tree, and attacked the hinder parts of the father's mule with such a torrent of high-sounding strokes, that the animal, perhaps more sullen than exhausted, seemed to recover new life and vigour, and fled from the a.s.sault like a deer, in the utmost terror and dismay. Little wonder was it! He heard the sound of every descending stroke coming on like the gathering tempest; and, clapping his tail close down between his hips, p.r.i.c.king up his long ears, and looking back first with the one eye and then with the other, he went at such a rate that Corby could do little more than keep up with him.
”My swiftness is greater than I can bear,” cried the friar, p.r.o.nouncing the sentence all in syllables for want of breath; ”verily I shall fall among the cliffs of the rocks by the side of the highway.”
His danger increased with his fears; for the mule perceiving that exertion availed not, and that there was no escaping from the fierceness of his pursuer's wrath, began to throw up his heels violently at every stroke, nevertheless continuing to exert himself between these evolutions. The friar's riding-gear began to get into disorder, and with great difficulty he retained his seat; therefore he cried out with a loud voice, ”I pray of thee, my son, to desist, for it is better for me to perish by an enemy's hand than thine; seest thou not my confusion and despair--verily I shall be dashed in pieces against the stones.”
The friar saw nought of Charlie's intent, else he would not have besought him so earnestly to desist. The Thief-gate-end was now hard at hand. It is still well known as a long narrow path alongst the verge of a precipice, and all the bank above it was then a thicket of brushwood and gorse, so close that the wild beast of the desart could not pa.s.s through it. It was, moreover, s.h.a.gged with rocks, and bedded with small stones, and the path itself was so narrow, that two hors.e.m.e.n could scarcely ride abreast. By such a strenuous manoeuvre on the parts of Charlie and the mule, the two flyers got into this path, without having lost any ground of their pursuers. When Charlie saw this, he began to breathe more freely, and, flinging away his hazel branch, he again seized his mighty weapon in his right hand.
”Let the chields come as close on us now, an they dare,” said he.
The mule still continued to eye him with a great deal of jealousy, and perceiving the brandish that he gave his long sword when he said this, he set off again full speed; so that it was a good while before the friar got time to reply. As soon as he got leisure to speak, he opened his mouth and said,--”My son, wilt thou lift up thine arm against a mult.i.tude? or canst thou contend with the torrent of the mighty waters?”