Part 5

The Scottish version of the battle of Otterbourne tells us that it was about the Lammas-tide or haymaking time of the year 1388 when the brave Earl of Douglas, with his brother, the Earl of Murray, made a foray into England, with a gay band of Gordons, Graemes, and Lindsays. He burned Tynedale and half of Bamborough and Otterdale, and marching up to Newcastle, rode round about the castle, crying, "Who is lord of this castle, and who is its lady?"

Then up spake proud Lord Percy, known as _Hotspur_, and said, "I am the lord of this castle, and my wife is the gay lady of it."

"That pleases me well," answered Douglas, "yet, ere I cross the Border hills, one of us shall die."

Then Percy took his long spear, shod with metal, and rode right furiously at the Douglas; but his lady, looking from the castle wall, grew pale as she saw her proud lord go down before the Scottish spear.

"Had we two been alone, with never an eye to see, I would have slain thee, but thy lance I will carry with me," said Douglas, and, to complete the disgrace, this lance bore attached to it the Percy pennon.

"Go then to Otterbourne," said Percy, "and wait there for me, and if I come not before the end of three days, call me a false knight."

"Otterbourne is a pleasant and a bonny place," answered Douglas; "but though the deer run wild among the hills and dales, and the birds fly wild from tree to tree, yet is there neither bread nor kale nor aught else to feed me and my men. Yet will I wait thee at Otterbourne to give thee welcome, and if thou come not in three days' time, false lord, will I call thee!"

"By the might of Our Lady, I will come," cried the proud Percy. "And I," answered Douglas, "plight thee my troth that I will meet thee there."

So Douglas and his men encamped at Otterbourne, and sent out their horses to pasture.

But before the peep of dawn, up spake a little page: "Waken ye, waken ye, my good lord; the Percy is upon us!" "Ye lie, ye lie," shouted Douglas; "yesterday, Percy had not men enough to fight us. But if thou lie not, the finest bower in Otterbourne shall be thy reward, and if what thou sayest prove false, thou shalt be hanged on the highest tree in Otterbourne. Yet I have dreamed a dreary dream; I dreamed that a dead man won a battle and that I was that dead man."

So Douglas belted on his good broadsword, and ran to the field, but forgot his helmet, and Percy and the Douglas fought with their swords together till the blood ran down like rain, and the Douglas fell, wounded on the brow.

Then he called to him his little foot-page and told him to run quickly and bring to him his sister's son, Sir Hugh Montgomery.

"My good nephew," said Douglas, "the death of one matters not; last night I dreamed a dreary dream, but yet I know the day is thine. My wound is deep; take thou the vanguard; bury me in the bracken high that grows on yonder lea, and let no man living know that a Scot lies there. And know that I am glad to die in battle, like my good forefathers, and not on a bed of sickness."

Montgomery lifted up his noble lord, while his eyes wept salt tears, and hid him in the bracken bush that his followers might not see, and before daylight the Scots slew many a gallant Englishman. The good Gordons steeped hose and shoes in the blood of the English; the Lindsays flew about like fire till the battle was ended, and Percy and Montgomery fought till the blood ran down between them.

"Now, yield thee, yield thee, Percy," cried Sir Hugh, "or I vow I will lay thee low!"

"Since it must be so," quoth Earl Percy, "to whom shall I yield?"

"Thou shalt not yield to me or to any lord, but to the bracken bush that grows on yonder lea!"

"I will not yield to briar or bracken bush, but I would yield to Lord Douglas or to Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he were here."

Then Montgomery made himself known, and as soon as Percy knew that it was Montgomery, he struck the point of his sword into the ground, and Montgomery, who was a courteous knight, took him up by the hand.

This deed was done at Otterbourne at daybreak, where Earl Douglas was buried by the bracken bush, and Percy led captive into Scotland, and it is said that Hotspur, for his ransom, built for Montgomery the castle of Penoon, in Ayrshire.

But the English version of these stirring events can also claim to be heard; the ballad upon it is called _Chevy Chase_, which means the Chase on the Cheviots; and so popular was this ballad that its name was given to a boys' game, which is so called even to this day. It tells how the Percy, from his castle in Northumberland, vowed that within three days he would hunt on the mountains of Cheviot in spite of the doughty Douglas and his men, and that he would kill and carry away the fattest deer in Cheviot.

"By my faith," said Douglas, when he heard of the boast, "but I will hinder his hunting."

Percy left Bamborough Castle with a mighty company, no less than fifteen hundred bold archers chosen out of three shires.

The foray began on a Monday morning in the high Cheviot Hills, and many a child yet unborn was to rue the day.

The drivers went through the woods and raised the deer, and the bowmen shot them with their broad arrows. Then the wild deer rushed through the woods, only to be met and killed by the greyhounds, and before noontide a hundred fat deer lay dead. The bugles sounded, "A mort!" and on all sides Percy and his men assembled to see the cutting up of the venison.

Said Percy: "The Douglas promised to meet me here this day, yet right well did I know that he would fail." But a Northumberland squire saw the doughty Douglas coming with a mighty company, with spear and batter-axe and sword. Never were men hardier of heart and hand seen in Christendom--two thousand spearmen born along the banks of the Tweed and Teviotdale. Then said Lord Percy: "Now leave off the cutting of the deer, and take good heed to your bows, for never had ye more need of them since ye were born."

Earl Douglas rode before his men, his armour glittering like a burning coal, and never was such a bold baron. "Tell me whose men ye are," said he, "and who gave ye leave to hunt in Cheviot without word asked of me?"

Then answered Lord Percy, "We will not tell thee whose men we are, and we will hunt here in spite of thee. We have killed the fattest harts in Cheviot and will carry them away."

"By my troth," said Douglas, "one of us shall die this day. Yet it were great pity to kill all these guiltless men. Thou, Percy, art a lord of land, and I am called an earl in my country; let our men stand by, and we will fight together."

"Now a curse on his crown, who says nay to that," cried Lord Percy. "By my troth, Douglas, thou shalt never see the day either in England, Scotland, or France, when I fear to meet one, man to man."

Then spoke Richard Witherington, a squire of Northumberland. "Never shall this be told in England, to the shame of good King Harry the Fourth. I wot ye be two great lords, and I but a poor squire, yet would I never stand and look on while my captain fought. While I can wield a weapon, I will not fail, both heart and hand."

So the English with good heart bent their bows, and slew seven score spearmen with the first arrows they shot.

Earl Douglas stayed on the field, but that he was a good captain was truly seen, for he wrought great woe and mischief. He parted his host in three like a proud chieftain, and they came in on every side with their mighty spears, wounding the English archers and slaying many a brave man.

Then the English pulled out their brands, and it was a heavy sight to see the bright swords light on the helmets, striking through the rich mail, and the cloth of many folds under it, and laying many low.

At last the Douglas and the Percy met and fought with swords of Milan steel till the blood spurted like rain and hail from their helmets.

"Hold thee, Percy," said Douglas, "and I will bring thee to James, our Scottish king, where thou shalt have an earl's wages and free ransom, for thou art the manfullest man that ever yet I conquered fighting in the field."

"Nay, then," said Lord Percy. "I told thee before that never would I yield to any man of woman born."

With that there came an arrow hastily from a mighty man, and struck Earl Douglas through the breast bone, and never more did he speak a word but only this: "Fight, my merry men, while ye may--my life's days are done."

Then Percy leaned on his hand, and when he saw the Douglas die, he said, "Woe is me. I would have parted with my land for three years to have saved thy life, for a better man of heart and hand was not in all the north country."

But Sir Hugh Montgomery, a Scottish knight, when he saw the Douglas done to death, grasped a spear and rode through a hundred archers, never slackening his pace till he came to Lord Percy, whom he set upon, sending his mighty spear clean through his body, so that a man might see a long cloth-yard and more at the other side. There were no two better captains in Christendom than were that day slain.

When one of the Northumberland archers saw this, he drew an arrow to his bow and set upon Montgomery, until the swan feathers of his arrows were wet with his heart's blood.

Not one man gave way, but still they stood hewing at each other, while they were able.

This battle began in Cheviot, an hour before noon, nor was it half done at evensong, but they fought on by moonlight though many had scarce the strength to stand. Of fifteen hundred English archers only fifty-three remained, and of two thousand Scottish spearmen only fifty-five remained, all the rest being slain in Cheviot.

With Lord Percy were slain, Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Roger the gentle Hartly, Sir William the bold Heron, Sir George the worthy Lovel, a renowned knight, and Sir Ralph the rich Rugby. Woe was it that Witherington was slain, for when both his legs were hewn in two he kneeled and fought on his knees.

With the brave Douglas were slain Sir Hugh Montgomery, and worthy Sir Davy Liddle, that was his sister's son; Sir Charles, a Murray who refused to flee, and Sir Hugh Maxwell. On the morrow they made biers of birch and grey hazel, and many widows bore weeping from the field the bodies of their dead husbands. Well may Teviotdale and Northumberland wail and moan for two such great captains.

Word came to James the Scottish king at Edinburgh, that the brave Douglas, Lieutenant of the Marches, lay slain in Cheviot, and he wept and wrung his hands, and said, "Alas! Woe is me; there will never be such another captain in Scotland."

Word came also to London, to Harry the Fourth, that Lord Percy, Lieutenant of the Marches, lay slain in Cheviot. "God have mercy on his soul," said King Harry; "I have a hundred captains in England as good as he, yet I wager my life that his death shall be well avenged"; and this vow he kept, at the Battle of Homildon Hill, where he beat down six and thirty Scottish knights on one day.

But so real to the Borderers was their grief over their dead that the ballad ends with a quaint but heartfelt appeal to the Prince of Peace:--

"Jesus Christ our ills abate, And to His bliss us bring! Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot; God send us all good ending!"

*Chapter XII*

*The Douglas Clan*

The Douglas clan was at one time the strongest of all the great Scotch families on the Border; they were wild and proud and recklessly brave, and no account of the Borders would be complete without the broad details of their tragic history.

The first to raise the fame of the family to the highest place in honour was the brave Sir James Douglas, the friend of Bruce, and, after Bruce himself, the greatest hero among the Scots of that stormy period. He was a powerful, black-haired man with a dark complexion, and was called by the English "The Black Douglas." So great was the terror of his name that English mothers on the Border, when their children were naughty, would tell them that the Black Douglas would get them, or if they were fretful they would comfort them with the assurance--

"Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye, Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye, The Black Douglas shall not get ye."

Sir Walter Scott relates how, when the garrison of Roxburgh Castle were making merry at Shrovetide, the castle was surprised by the Douglas, who mounted to the ramparts where a woman was crooning the refrain to her babe. "You are not so sure of that," he said, laying his hand upon her shoulder. It is pleasant to read that on this occasion the Black Douglas did not turn out so black as he was painted, and beyond her fright the woman came to no harm at the hands of Sir James and his followers.

At one time the English had seized the Douglas castle in Lanarkshire, and Sir James and his men disguised themselves and came to church on Palm Sunday, when the English soldiers were worshipping there. Suddenly in the midst of the service Douglas dropped his cloak and drew his sword and shouted: "A Douglas! a Douglas!"

The English soldiers were taken by surprise, and were killed before they could recover themselves. This deed brought Douglas great fame, but after all it was hardly a fair fight.

In 1327, when Edward III. was only fifteen years old, Douglas led a raid into Northumberland and Durham which did the English much damage. Edward came after them with an English army, and the Scots, being outnumbered, were compelled to dodge up and down in order to avoid a pitched battle. But in one bold night attack, Douglas and five hundred of the Scots penetrated to the king's tent, and almost succeeded in taking him prisoner. Failing in this, they returned unharmed to their own country, and shortly afterwards, at the Treaty of Northampton in 1328, King Edward III. agreed to acknowledge Robert Bruce as King of Scotland, and the long war between Scotland and England ended.

A year later Bruce died, but after a romantic custom of that day he bequeathed his heart to his gallant friend, Sir James Douglas. Douglas had this heart enclosed in a silver casket and carried it hung about his neck. The war with England being over, this restless knight sought adventures in Spain, fighting against the Saracen followers of Mahomet. In one fierce battle, he and his men were surrounded by their enemies. Douglas, probably realising that this was his last fight, took the casket and flung it into the midst of his foes, crying: "Go first in fight, as thou wert used to do; Douglas will follow thee or die!" He then rushed desperately after it, fighting his way on till at last his dead body fell on this dearly prized relic, which he guarded to the end. The casket lies buried in the Abbey of Melrose, but Douglas's body was laid in his own church.

Of the bold Earl Douglas who fought and died at Otterbourne the tale is told in our last chapter. We may pass on to another famous Douglas, this time a heroine, who lived in the reign of James I. of Scotland (quite a different king from James I. of England). When James was only twelve years old, he was taken prisoner by Henry IV. of England, and kept captive till he was thirty. But he was given an education fit for a king, and in England he met the lady he devotedly loved, Lady Joan Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset. He addressed a beautiful poem to her and married her, and these two always most dearly loved one another. When at last his long captivity came to an end, he got back to Scotland to find the kingdom in disorder, and the nobles defying the law and acting as they pleased. James, a strong and able king, set his strength against their strength, and gradually got his whole kingdom into order and ruled with wisdom and justice.

But in these days it was impossible to be firm without sternness, and James made enemies. When he was staying at Perth one Christmas-time, these enemies, led by a bold villain called Sir Robert Graham, secretly encircled the house where he was staying. The unarmed king only heard of their presence when they were advancing, fully armed, to his room. He tore up a plank in the floor, seeking thus to find a hiding-place. The enemies were almost at the door, and it was necessary to delay their entrance, for one minute might save his life. All the bars of the door had been removed beforehand, but a brave heroine, Kate Douglas, thrust her arm through the staples. The villains were angered to find the door barred against them, and hurled their weight upon it.

The Douglas heroine stood there, her pale face set hard, without a cry, as the crash broke the bone of her brave strong arm, and the would-be murderers staggered in. But alas! the sacrifice of Kate Douglas availed nothing except to place her name upon the immortal roll of the heroes of the ages, for after a brief search the murderers found the king and slew him.

The queen, who had loved James with the utmost devotion, found her love give added fierceness to her hate against his murderers. They were all tracked down, and she caused them to die with terrible tortures, the cruellest of which she reserved for Graham. Thus did great King James's "milk-white dove" revenge the slaying of the husband she loved dearer than life itself.

Till this time it had seemed as if the Douglases were devoted to the good of Scotland. But in those wild, reckless times qualities that were strong for good could also be strong for evil.

When James I. of Scotland was murdered, his young son was only six years old. This meant that for many years there would be no strong king able to cope with the lawless spirit of the nobles, strongest among whom were the proud, bold Douglases.

The lawlessness of the times is well shown by an act of foul treachery committed by Sir William Crichton, Governor of Edinburgh, and an enemy of the Douglas family. He invited one of the earls to dinner at the castle, and while there had him seized and beheaded. It is said that a bull's head was placed on the dish in front of Douglas, this being a sign that he was to be killed. The people called this "Douglas's black dinner," and sang of the wicked deed in sorrowful verse:--

"Edinburgh Castle, town and tower God grant thou sink for sin! And even for that black dinner Earl Douglas got therein."

But the new King James found, before he was twenty years old, that the Douglases themselves could act with equal cruelty and lawlessness.

The king was fond of a brave young soldier named Maclellan, who, having some quarrel with Earl Douglas, was thrown by him into a dungeon in his castle. So the king wrote a letter to Douglas, saying he must set Maclellan free, and sent this letter by Maclellan's uncle, Sir Patrick Gray. When Douglas saw Gray riding up to his castle, he at once guessed the errand. So he came out as though he were delighted to see him, and insisted on his sitting down and having dinner with him, before the king's letter was opened and discussed. But the treacherous earl had given secret orders that Maclellan should be beheaded while they were dining, so that after dinner was over, and the letter was read, he could say that this had been done before he had seen the king's message.

Gray dared not show his anger, for fear he too should be killed. He mounted his swift horse and rode away, but the moment he was outside the castle walls he shook his mailed fist at Douglas and cried out--

"Treacherous earl, disgrace to knighthood, some day you shall pay for this black, base deed!"

Douglas mounted his men, and they pursued Gray almost to the gates of Edinburgh; but he rode for his life, and faster than they.

When Douglas and the king next met there was a stormy scene. The earl was so proud and wilful that he would not bend to any of the king's wishes or heed the king's anger in the least. So King James, mad with rage, stabbed the reckless earl with his dagger, and Sir Patrick Gray, seeing this, struck him a death-blow with his axe.

The king was in Stirling Castle, a powerful fortress at the top of a steep hill, when the new earl, the younger brother of the murdered man, rode up with six hundred followers, and burnt and plundered the town before the king's very eyes, and added to the insult by publicly declaring that King James II. was a law-breaker.

For three years the quarrel went on between the king and the Douglases, but it was then evident that there could be no peace between them. So at last the king's army attacked the collected forces of the strong Douglas family at a place on the Borders then called Arkinholm, where the picturesque little town of Langholm now stands. Here the beautiful river Esk receives the water of two smaller streams, and so it was a good place to make a stand for a fight. The battle was long and desperate; three brothers of the bold black Douglases were there, and they withstood the king's men till the rivers ran red; but their cause was hopeless. One was slain in battle; one was taken and executed; one escaped into England; and the power of the Black Douglases was gone.

Thus it was that the strongest and most famous family of the Borders was broken up, because its proud leaders dared to dictate to the king himself.

*Chapter XIII*

*Alnwick Castle and the Percies*

The castle of Alnwick stands on a hill on the south bank of the river Alne; being protected on one side by the river and on another by a deep gorge, it stands in a strong natural position. There are traces of earthworks that seem to show that the spot was fortified in the old British days, but the earliest fact which we know certainly is that there was a Saxon fortress here, held by a Gilbert Tyson, when William the Conqueror claimed England. Tyson hastened south to fight on Harold's side, and was killed at the battle of Hastings.

The fortress seems to have got into the hands of a Norman knight, Ivo de Vesci, who married the grand-daughter of Gilbert Tyson. King Malcolm of Scotland was killed in front of it, in 1093, with three thousand of his men. De Vesci's son-in-law was probably the knight who rebuilt the castle in the Norman style, some portions of which still remain.

In 1174, William the Lion, King of Scotland, who had claimed Northumberland as his own, attacked the castles of Wark and of Alnwick. Wark was defended by a gallant knight named Roger de Stuteville. William's brave men tried in vain to force their way through the portcullis, but were beaten back. Then William ordered up his _periere_, a machine made for hurling stones. "This," said the king, "will soon smash down the gate for us!" With great expectations the machine was set in motion, but it acted so badly that it threw the stones on to William's own men, and nearly killed one of his best knights! William raved in his fury, and swore he would rather have been captured in fair fight than be made to look so foolish in the eyes of his enemies. He gave word to burn the castle, but the wind was in the wrong quarter and blew back the flames. So he had to give up the siege. Stuteville, like a gallant enemy, told his men not to shout taunts and jeers at the departing Scots. But instead they blew trumpets and horns, and sang songs, and called out a very loud and hearty "Good-bye."