Part 27 (1/2)
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 of the ill-fated Mary, or to recount how, during the week which succeeded her flight from Lochleven, her partisans mustered around her with their followers, forming a gallant army, amounting to six thousand men. So much light has been lately thrown on the most minute details of the period, by Mr. Chalmers, in his valuable history of Queen Mary, that the reader may be safely referred to it for the fullest information which ancient records afford concerning that interesting time. It is sufficient for our purpose to say, that while Mary's head-quarters were at Hamilton, the Regent and his adherents had, in the King's name, a.s.sembled a host at Glasgow, inferior indeed to that of the Queen in numbers, but formidable from the military talents of Murray, Morton, the Laird of Grange, and others, who had been trained from their youth in foreign and domestic wars.
In these circ.u.mstances, it was the obvious policy of Queen Mary to avoid a conflict, secure that were her person once in safety, the number of her adherents must daily increase; whereas, the forces of those opposed to her must, as had frequently happened in the previous history of her reign, have diminished, and their spirits become broken. And so evident was this to her counsellors, that they resolved their first step should be to place the Queen in the strong castle of Dunbarton, there to await the course of events, the arrival of succours from France, and the levies which were made by her adherents in every province of Scotland. Accordingly, orders were given, that all men should be on horseback or on foot, apparelled in their armour, and ready to follow the Queen's standard in array of battle, the avowed determination being to escort her to the Castle of Dunbarton in defiance of her enemies.
The muster was made upon Hamilton-Moor, and the march commenced in all the pomp of feudal times. Military music sounded, banners and pennons waved, armour glittered far and wide, and spears glanced and twinkled like stars in a frosty sky. The gallant spectacle of warlike parade was on this occasion dignified by the presence of the Queen herself, who, with a fair retinue of ladies and household attendants, and a special guard of gentlemen, amongst whom young Seyton and Roland were distinguished, gave grace at once and confidence to the army, which spread its ample files before, around, and behind her. Many churchmen also joined the cavalcade, most of whom did not scruple to a.s.sume arms, and declare their intention of wielding them in defence of Mary and the Catholic faith. Not so the Abbot of Saint Mary's. Roland had not seen this prelate since the night of their escape from Lochleven, and he now beheld him, robed in the dress of his order, a.s.sume his station near the Queen's person. Roland hastened to pull off his basnet, and beseech the Abbot's blessing.
”Thou hast it, my son!” said the priest; ”I see thee now under thy true name, and in thy rightful garb. The helmet with the holly branch befits your brows well--I have long waited for the hour thou shouldst a.s.sume it.”
”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 it known.”
”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; besides that, your t.i.tle, in quiet times, even had your father done your mother that justice which I well hope he did, could not have competed with that of my brother's wife, the child of Julian's elder brother.”
”They need fear no compet.i.tion from me,” said Avenel. ”Scotland is wide enough, and there are many manors to win, without plundering my benefactor. But prove to me, my reverend father, that my father was just to my mother--show me that I may call myself a legitimate Avenel, and make me your bounden slave for ever.”
”Ay,” replied the Abbot, ”I hear the Seytons hold thee cheap for that stain on thy s.h.i.+eld. Something, however, I have learnt from the late Abbot Boniface, which, if it prove sooth, may redeem that reproach.”
”Tell me that blessed news,” said Roland, ”and the future service of my life--”
”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 for them? Think on what perilous march we are bound, and if thou hast a sin unconfessed, neglect not the only leisure which Heaven may perchance afford 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 are not yet at Dunbarton, and there is a lion in the path.”
”Mean you Murray, Morton, and the other rebels at Glasgow, my reverend father? Tus.h.!.+ they dare not look on the royal banner.”
”Even so,” replied the Abbot, ”speak many of those who are older, and should be wiser, than thou.--I have returned from the southern s.h.i.+res, where I left many a chief of name arming in the Queen's interest--I left the lords here wise and considerate men--I find them madmen on my return--they are willing, for mere pride and vain-glory, to brave the enemy, and to carry the Queen, as it were in triumph, past the walls of Glasgow, and under the beards of the adverse army.--Seldom does Heaven smile on such mistimed confidence. We shall be encountered, and that to the purpose.”
”And so much the better,” replied Roland; ”the field of battle was my cradle.”
”Beware it be not thy dying bed,” said the Abbot. ”But what avails it whispering to young wolves the dangers of the chase? You will know, perchance, ere this day is out, what yonder men are, whom you hold in rash contempt.”
”Why, what are they?” said Henry Seyton, who now joined them: ”have they sinews of wire, and flesh of iron?--Will lead pierce and steel cut them?--If so, reverend father, we have little to fear.”
”They are evil men,” said the Abbot, ”but the trade of war demands no saints.--Murray and Morton are known to be the best generals in Scotland. No one ever saw Lindesay's or Ruthven's back--Kirkaldy of Grange was named by the Constable Montmorency the first soldier in Europe--My brother, too good a name for such a cause, has been far and wide known for a soldier.”
”The better, the better!” said Seyton, triumphantly; ”we shall have all these traitors of rank and name in a fair field before us. Our cause is the best, our numbers are the strongest, our hearts and limbs match theirs--Saint Bennet, and set on!”
The Abbot made no reply, but seemed lost in reflection; and his anxiety in some measure communicated itself to Roland Avenel, who ever, as their line of march led over a ridge or an eminence, cast an anxious look towards the towers of Glasgow, as if he expected to see symptoms of the enemy issuing forth. It was not that he feared the fight, but the issue was of such deep import to his country, and to himself, that the natural fire of his spirit burned with a less lively, though with a more intense glow. Love, honour, fame, fortune, all seemed to depend on the issue of one field, rashly hazarded perhaps, but now likely to become unavoidable and decisive.
When, at length, their march came to be nearly parallel with the city of Glasgow, Roland became sensible that the high grounds before them were already in part occupied by a force, showing, like their own, the royal banner of Scotland, and on the point of being supported by columns of infantry and squadrons of horse, which the city gates had poured forth, and which hastily advanced to sustain those troops who already possessed the ground in front of the Queen's forces. Horseman after horseman galloped in from the advanced guard, with tidings that Murray had taken the field with his whole army; that his object was to intercept the Queen's march, and his purpose unquestionable to hazard a battle. It was now that the tempers of men were subjected to a sudden and a severe trial; and that those who had too presumptuously concluded that they would pa.s.s without combat, were something disconcerted, when, at once, and with little time to deliberate, they found themselves placed in front of a resolute enemy.--Their chiefs immediately a.s.sembled around the Queen, and held a hasty council of war. Mary's quivering lip confessed the fear which she endeavoured to conceal under a bold and dignified demeanour. But her efforts were overcome by painful recollections of the disastrous issue of her last appearance in arms at Carberry-hill; and when she meant to have asked them their advice for ordering the battle, she involuntarily inquired whether there were no means of escaping without an engagement?
”Escaping?” answered the Lord Seyton; ”when I stand as one to ten of your Highness's enemies, I may think of escape--but never while I stand with three to two!”
”Battle! battle!” exclaimed the a.s.sembled lords; ”we will drive the rebels from their vantage ground, as the hound turns the hare on the hill side.”
”Methinks, my n.o.ble lords,” said the Abbot, ”it were as well to prevent his gaining that advantage.--Our road lies through yonder hamlet on the brow, and whichever party hath the luck to possess it, with its little gardens 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 honours me,” he said; ”I will instantly press forward, and seize the pa.s.s.”
”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 the Queen's command--Follow me, gentlemen, my va.s.sals and kinsmen-- Saint Bennet, and set on!”
”And follow me,” said Arbroath, ”my n.o.ble kinsmen, and brave men-tenants, we will see which will first reach the post of danger. For G.o.d and Queen Mary!”
”Ill-omened haste, and most unhappy strife,” said the Abbot, who saw them and their followers rush hastily and emulously to ascend the height without waiting till their men were placed in order.--”And you, gentlemen,” he continued, addressing Roland and Seyton, who were each about 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 fell combat-- withdraw not those to whom I trust for my safety.”
”We may not leave her Grace,” said Roland, looking at Seyton, and turning his horse.
”I ever looked when thou wouldst find out that,” rejoined the fiery youth.
Roland made no answer, but bit his lip till the blood came, and spurring his horse up to the side of Catherine Seyton's palfrey, he whispered in 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 sword remained still sheathed, and all for the love of you.”
”There is madness among us all,” said the damsel; ”my father, my brother, and you, are all alike bereft of reason. Ye should think only of this poor Queen, and you are all inspired by your own absurd jealousies--The monk is the only soldier and man of sense amongst you all.--My lord Abbot,” she cried aloud, ”were it not better we should draw to the westward, and wait the event that G.o.d shall send us, instead of remaining here in the highway, endangering the Queen's person, and c.u.mbering the troops in their advance?”
”You say well, my daughter,” replied the Abbot; ”had we but one to guide us where the Queen's person may be in safety--Our n.o.bles hurry to the conflict, without casting a thought on the very cause of the war.”
”Follow me,” said a knight, or man-at-arms, well mounted, and attired completely in black armour, but having the visor of his helmet closed, and bearing no crest on his helmet, or device upon his s.h.i.+eld.
”We will follow no stranger,” said the Abbot, ”without some warrant of his truth.”
”I am a stranger and in your hands,” said the horseman; ”if you wish to know more of me, the Queen herself will be your warrant.”
The Queen had remained fixed to the spot, as if disabled by fear, yet mechanically smiling, bowing, and waving her hand, as banners were lowered and spears depressed before her, while, emulating the strife betwixt Seyton and Arbroath, band on band pressed forward their march towards the enemy. Scarce, however, had the black rider whispered something in her ear, than she a.s.sented to what he said; and when he spoke aloud, and with an air of command, ”Gentlemen, it is the Queen's pleasure that you should follow me,” Mary uttered, with something like eagerness, the word ”Yes.”
All were in motion in an instant; for the black horseman, throwing off a sort of apathy of manner, which his first appearance indicated, spurred his horse to and fro, making him take such active bounds and short turns, as showed the rider master of the animal; and getting the Queen's little retinue in some order for marching, he led them to the left, directing his course towards a castle, which, crowning a gentle yet commanding eminence, presented an extensive view over the country beneath, and in particular, commanded a view of those heights which both armies hastened to occupy, and which it was now apparent must almost instantly be the scene of struggle and dispute.
”Yonder towers,” said the Abbot, questioning the sable horseman, ”to whom do they belong?--and are they in the hands of friends?”
”They are untenanted,” replied the stranger, ”or, at least, they have no hostile inmates.--But urge these youths. Sir Abbot, to make more haste--this is but an evil time to satisfy their idle curiosity, by peering out upon the battle in which they are to take no share.”
”The worse luck mine,” said Henry Seyton, who overheard him--”I would rather be under my father's banner at this moment than be made Chamberlain of Holyrood, for this my present duty of peaceful ward well and 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 of cavalry, which presses from the eastward, will reach the village ere Lord Seyton can gain it.”
”They are but cavalry,” said Seyton, looking attentively; ”they cannot hold the village without shot of harquebuss.”