Part 14

So it befell that once more I had the leading of our good lads from the sea border. Right merry we were as we rode forth, for the matter seemed to us no more than a good adventure. None thought that the issue would be so grim and bloody as it proved. We were but half-way to Maybole when we came suddenly on Auchendrayne himself and John Dick, the Earl's messenger, in close converse--which I thought a strange thing, seeing that Auchendrayne was so great a favourer of the Bargany faction. So soon as they saw us come in sight they parted, and John Dick rode away over the fields, but Auchendrayne came towards us, riding easily and pleasantly as if to market.

'A good day to you,' he cried. 'Whither away, armed _cap-a-pie_, so early?'

'We ride to meet my lord, and to do his bidding!' I said, making my words brief and curt, because I liked not the man, for all his fine figure and commanding presence.

'Your master Sir Thomas, is, I hear, laid by with his ancient trouble. I asked John Dick concerning him. Tell him that I grieve to hear of it.'

'Without doubt, you were on your way to visit him,' I said, with mockery in my manner of speech, for it was a strange thing to meet John Mure on the wrong side of the town of Maybole at daybreak of a winter's morning.

'Without doubt,' he answered readily; 'but now that I know of his weak state of health, I need not trouble him this day!'

'There is the greater need, Laird Auchendrayne,' I made reply, 'that you should go on and cheer him with your pleasant discourse.'

He answered to that not a word good nor bad, but turned his horse and rode away to the right, making, as I guessed, a detour to avoid my lord and join our enemies of Bargany.

It was early in the morning of this famous eleventh of December (as I have been told) that there was a goodly stir and commotion in the town of Ayr. Gilbert Kennedy had resolved that he would ride that day to Bargany by way of the town of Maybole. Sorely and often they of his faction tried to dissuade him, but he was set immovably on it, as he was on anything to which he had once made up his mind.

'Think ye,' he said, 'that I am feared of John, Earl of Cassillis, or of all the Kennedies of the shore edge that ever scarted other folk's siller into their wallets like sclate-stanes?'

'Ye needna be feared,' said his brother Thomas, the Wolf of Drummurchie, 'but ye surely have enough of sense to take care of your pelt. Even a swine has that muckle. Do you think that Cassillis, and those that are with him, have not as much sense as we? They will be standing by some roadside where we have to ride by, and they will have holes cutted out, I warrant you, long or this, to shoot us in the by-ganging---even as we did for Earl Johnnie at the limekilns of the Dalgorrachies.'

But that debauched villain, the Laird of Benane, and his little-wit sister, moved him to that pride, to which also his own heart ever too easily inclined. So, in spite of all entreaty, Bargany leaped on his charger and rode forward himself, with only ten or twelve horsemen as a first vanguard. Behind him there came other seventy, making in all the number of fourscore armed men on horseback, all good riders of mettle. Some of these were such burghers of Ayr as had a soul beyond the ell-wand, and could follow a foray and bend the pull of a pistolet with any man. For I have learned that all townsfolk are not nidderlings, as once I thought in my hot youth and little knowledge.

Now, so soon as they were well mounted there were two at Bargany's muster who rode away to warn my Lord of Cassillis by which way Bargany should come, so that he might be in array. The traitorous names of them were William Cunningham and Hew Penandgow, against both of whom Auchendrayne had warned Gilbert Kennedy. But Bargany had taken no heed, for he said, 'Never yet have I seen the time when my right arm could not keep my head against kings and earls, let alone pock-puddings and Penandgows!'

'Nor like I this day's work,' said Auchendrayne, 'for I see not here the weight of men to do your turn and carry you through.'

Yet all the time he was plotting that Gilbert Kennedy should no more ride home to Bargany, and that John Mure should rule the land in his stead.

It was not long before they came to the bridge of Doon.

There they stayed awhile, and Bargany set his fighting men in array. And, as was the custom, he made an address to them--of which I have heard much and often, for all men minded it as the speech of a brave man.

'Sirs,' he said, so that they could all catch his words, 'I am here to protest, before God, that I seek neither the life nor the dishonour of my lord. But I desire only to ride home to my house in peace, if he will let me. But if not, I look to you all to do your duty as becometh men. He that is willing to do this, out of love and kindness for me, let him tarry with me to the end. But if not, let him leave me now at this present!'

And they all answered, 'We will die in your defence if any dire hurt or pursue you!'

So being well agreed, they of Bargany rode forward. They were divided into two companies, and their faces were set toward the gate of the town. And now it befits that I speak of the things which I saw with my own eyes, and of the noble muster that we of the Cassillis faction made on the knowes outside of Maybole.

I mind well how the Earl's spies came riding in with the news that Bargany had ridden out of the town of Ayr, and what joy was in the hearts of most of us that were there, when we heard that with him he had but eighty men.

Earl John was so full of pleasure that his countenance shone, and he cracked his thumbs like a boy, seeing his enemy already in his power. He rode here and there among us, and saw to it that all the hackbuttmen had good-going matches, and all the footmen practicable spears and pikes.

When we gathered in the High Street of Maybole the snow was just beginning to fall, and presently it came driving up from the south, so that we had it on our backs all through the fight.

I was put in the very forefront of the muster with my twenty horsemen. For, save and excepting those of Culzean, and the few that surrounded his own person and were his gentlemen (as Robert Harburgh and others), my Lord of Cassillis counted not many horsemen, but rather spent his means upon providing hackbuttmen with the latest species of ordnance.

Nevertheless, gallantly enough we rode forth from Maybole, with the hackbuttmen and spearmen coming on foot after us. The street was full of them as far as one could discern through the oncoming storm, rising and falling like the waves of the sea. Yet was our soldierly figure a little spoiled by the falling snow--at least to the eyes of the women that looked down upon us in droves from the upper windows of the houses. But, of course, a soldier cared nothing for such a trifle.

When once we got outside the town, my lord bade his men line the hedges and banks, so that the hackbuttmen might have both rests for their pieces and shelter for themselves. On the other hand, the Laird of Bargany hid few hackbuttmen, for he said, 'It is not the arm of a gen'leman. Comes a bullet of lead and be he lord, prince, or peasant, Childe Roland or base craven, there is no difference and no remead.'

No sooner were we set, all under cover, than our spearmen upon the left and we upon the right, discerned the host of Bargany beginning to crown the opposite knolls. And through the pauses of the storm I could see the leaden glint of their spears, and hear the words of command. It was indeed a picked day for a grim fight to the death.

At the head of all Gilbert Kennedy rode, behind him the Wolf his brother, and the Laird of Auchendrayne wearing a long cloak, for it was a stormy day and he no longer a young man like the others. Then it was that my heart rose against the fighting, and I had no such gladness in it as was usual with me, all for the sake of young Bargany, whom I loved. Yet as soon as I set eyes upon John Mure of Auchendrayne, I felt the iron grow in my veins and the hot anger mount to my head. Of its own accord my hand gripped the spearhilt, for this day, by the Earl's command, I was again to lay a lance in rest. But I had now learned the game and art of it, and took lessons no longer from anyone.

'If the Lord prosper me this day, I will make an end of one false rogue!' So I vowed, solemn as if I had been in the kirk on a Sabbath day.

Then the two forces drew so close together that we could see and hear one another--that is, before the snow swept down, blotting out faces and forms, friend and foe alike.

Immediately there began the challenging and taunting, as is ever the way in these clan battles, where every fighter knows everyone else, and has met him at kirk and market a score of times.

Then Patrick Rippitt, that was ever a wild lad, cried out for provocation to the Laird of Bargany's younger brother, with whom he had some quarrel about a lass.

'Laird of Benane, Laird of Benane, this is I, Patrick Rippitt, that took your hackbutt from you! For thy latest love's sake, come down to the hollow and break a tree with me.'

For that was his manner of challenging his enemy to fight with lances. And again, 'Then for all thy loves sake,' cried Patrick, which made a laugh, for Benane's loves were comparable to the snowflakes for number, and eke for the lightness--but by no means the whiteness of their characters.

'For all thy loves' sakes, come down, and I will gar thy harns clatter!'

But Benane was silent and returned no answer, albeit the moment before he had been giving Bargany counsel to ride forward at the charge. But Benane was a man, debonnair but feckless, a weighty man with his tongue, but thewless and unable of his hands.

Long ere this the men of Ayr were keen to be at the shooting. But Bargany held them in, saying, 'I will go to the length of my tether in eschewing all cummer and bickering, so far as I may.'

And with that he wheeled about his force off the knows of the Lady Carse, and went down by the bogside of Dinhame, to see whether a way might be won in that direction, without coming to the bloody arbitrament of battle.

But my lord the Earl cried out, 'Ware ye, there on the left. They would turn our flank and take us at unawares!'

So he spread out his hackbuttmen, and made them race down the ridges over against Bargany's men, till they won to the foot of the Bog of Dinhame. There on the edge of the moss was a wall of turf, or, as the country folk call it, a 'fail dyke,' so our hackbuttmen, coming to it, first lined it, and then began to fire on Bargany, who was somewhat disconcerted and taken aback at their alertness. I galloped round to the right, to make safe the wing with my little band of horse, for I feared we might be suddenly assaulted by the whole band of eighty.

However, as it happened, the sudden shooting of our musketeers threw their lines into confusion, some of them halting by a little burn-side that was at the bog-foot. This staying of the charge gave further courage to our musketeers, who had full time to plant their rests and make their matches ready. Our pikemen also gathered at the back of the turf dyke and levelled their weapons over the heads of the kneeling hackbuttmen, so that it had been as vain for the whole company to have charged upon us, as for them to have attacked the walls of Calais.

Nevertheless, I saw them muster again boldly and come at us. I caught the trampling of their horses as they gathered speed. The fire of our musketeers flickered out here and there adown the line, for it was a dark afternoon and the flashes could clearly be seen. I saw sundry horses go down and heard men fall, the iron plates of their mail clashing on the frost-firmed ground. Some of those who started most gallantly reeled in their saddles, threw up their arms and fell backwards, while their horses galloped riderless away, for that is the manner of men's falling who are smitten by the bullet as they ride.

The Wolf of Drummurchie was down. I hoped that he would rise no more, for he was a most cruel beast and the bane of many lives. Indeed, from before the fire of our musketeers, all trained marksmen, the riders of Bargany who had been so proud, fairly melted away. Thus was Earl John justified of his dependence upon powder and lead.

*CHAPTER XXV*

*MARJORIE BIDS HER LOVE GOOD-NIGHT*

I was just rejoicing that the battle was well over, and that the victory remained with us without great shedding of blood, when to my infinite astonishment I saw a little dark cloud of five or six men disengage them from the deray, and charge straight at the thickest of us. They seemed to come suddenly out of the midst of the battling snowstorm, for the driven flakes beat so in their faces, that had it not been shed from their armour they would have been fairly sheeted white in it, as indeed were the trappings of their horses.

In a moment more they were amongst us--Bargany himself first of all, with Cloncaird and James and Andro Bannatyne, and behind them, with his sword bare, Auchendrayne himself. Yet I opine he came not willingly, but that his horse, unaccustomed to noise, ran away with him. By what freak of madness they resolved thus to charge, as it had been an army in position, it is beyond me to tell. In a moment these five were in the midst of the slicing steel and the flame of ordnance--the snow-flakes driving in their eyes and their swords cutting a way through the white drift to reach the foe.

Never was there such a fight--at least, not in this land, for there were but five of them to near a hundred of us! So that I saw no honour in the battle, and besides, it went hard with me to have to smite that Gilbert Kennedy, at whose side I had ridden so blithely all the way to the house of the Inch.

But I spurred Dom Nicholas forward with a kind of joy, toward the mound where Auchendrayne had managed to stay his horse just outside the heady rush of the fight. I saw that he meant to watch what the end might be, but I was determined that I should give him more than he bargained for. So I couched lance, and crying, 'A Kennedy!' held at him, swinging a pistol point-blank as I came, and throwing it away as I gripped the spear. And this time at least I might well have been called Spurheel, for I rowelled Dom Nicholas most vigorously. I came upon John Mure with a surge, so that I clean overbore him with a lance-thrust in the thigh. I cared not a jot that he was old. The devil was older than he, and besides, if he wanted not to stand the chance of battle, he might even have bided at home for the quarrel was none of his.

And it had been telling all of us if I had stayed to finish him. When I think of the ill the man did afterwards, and how for years he had been bringing many to their deaths, I can bite my thumb for letting him off scot-free.

But, like a fool, I contented myself with the lance-thrust and the chance pistol bullet I sped at him in the heat of the fight. For I never could abide the cruel slaying of the wounded, which is practised even more in these private wars than in the great affairs of nations. And this over delicacy has often stood in the way of my advantage.

So I turned, and left Auchendrayne lying on the ground. As I came back I heard Bargany crying out, 'I fear we are too few! But have at them till we die!'

There was but one that fought with him, all his other companions being stricken down. And in a trice he alone was left on his horse. Nevertheless, it was with a light hand on the rein and a feat touch of the heel, that Gilbert Kennedy kept his head, though the blows fell like hail on his armour. There were three that he held at arm's length--all the while crying out for the Earl, and trying fiercely to break through the spearmen, who stood like a fence about the person of Cassillis.

'Where is my lord himself?' he cried. 'Let him now keep promise, and come out like a man to break a tree with me!'

So went the fight of the one against many, and such deeds of valiance saw I never any man do in this realm of Scotland, though in my time I have seen so many brave and worthy things done. For Gilbert Kennedy attacked Patrick Rippitt and Quintain Crawford with strokes that nearly dang them senseless, crying at each blow, 'Bargany! Bargany! To the rescue, Bargany!' But ever as he raged through the fight like a lion, I saw John Dick watching him with a poised lance in his hand. And while Gilbert was at blows with Rippitt and Big Quintain, Dick raised the spear and sent it quivering at him, with an art which I never saw any man master of, save only himself. Gilbert Kennedy had taken no note of him--for, as I heard afterwards, Auchendrayne had told all that were in the camp of Bargany, that John Dick was his man, and his paid intelligencer in the host of the enemy.

The poised lance struck young Bargany full in the neck and stayed. So in the midst of his foes, and striking at them to the last, he fell, who was the bravest man of his age. And at his overthrow there fell a silence for a space, and the battle smother cleared. Only the snow fell and scarce melted on the face that was already white and set in death.

We crossed our spears and made a bier with our cloaks, whereon we laid him. Then very gently I drew away the deadly lance, though the wound bled not much, but inwardly, which was worse. We thought to bear him to some castle of his own folk, as it might be to the house of Auchdrayne. But the Earl John came and looked at his foe and kinsman as he lay on the snow with his eyes closed.

'Carry him to my castle at the town end of Maybole,' said he, 'for that is near by.'

Now I thought that not the best place in the world for the young man's recovery, but, being bidden, it was not mine to reply, but only to obey.

We came to the portcullis gate of Maybole, and were bearing him in upon our shoulders, when down the road to the town there came, riding like the wind, first a lady and then a man that followed hotly in pursuit. When they came nearer, I saw that the lady was she who had been Marjorie Kennedy, and that the man riding after was her husband, James Mure. At sight of us who bore the soldier's bier slowly on our spears, Marjorie leaped from her horse, and left it to wander, bridle free, whither it would. But a page seized and held it.

She came swiftly to where we were carrying our burden on the crossed lances.

'Is it Gilbert Kennedy?' she said.

We told her ay.

'Lay him down under the gate,' she commanded, 'I would speak with him.'

'But, my lady Marjorie,' I said, as gently as I could, 'I fear that he is dead already.'

'Then I would even speak to him dead,' she cried. 'Lay him down!'

Her husband came up to take her by the hand as if to remove her, but she turned on him in white anger, swift and flaming.

'You that have never yet dared to lay a hand on me, is it like that you shall begin now? Go, look to your father; cravens that shun the battle ought not to brawl with women in the gate!'

And without further remonstrance James Mure slunk away, like the very pitiful rogue that he was. I could have kicked the cur, and wished there had been fewer folk there--for I had done it too.

Then she that had been so proud and haughty to young Bargany when he was alive, took the fair, wounded head in her arms, crouching beside him in the dun, trampled snow, while the flakes blew in upon her unbound hair. She crooned and hushed him like a bairn, while we that had borne him stood wide from her, some turning away altogether. But, because I knew all and loved her, I stood near.

'Gilbert,' she said, 'noblest and dearest, never doubt but that I loved you--never loved but you. Though I flouted you oft, and ever sent you empty away, yet I loved you and none other. And I want the world to know that I loved him--ay,' she said, turning her face up to us all defiantly, 'ay, and loved him with clean hands, too, for he that is dead never knew it. But I desire you that were his enemies in life, to know that I, Marjorie Kennedy, honoured myself by loving the noblest man and the fairest--not that thing there, who by cozenance bought me, as cattle are bought in the market-place.'

She laid down his head very gently, taking a fine silken scarve, soft and white, from her own neck. And in the folds of that which was yet warm with the warmth of her pure and gracious bosom, she wrapped from common sight the head of him who had died without knowledge of her love.

Then she kneeled low down upon her knees, clasping hands and holding the last fold of the napkin ere she covered his face from sight.

'Ah, best beloved,' she said very gently, yet so that I could hear, 'fare thee well! So have I never said farewell before. But ever scornfully, being in fear of mine own heart's treachery. Lie you there that wert the noblest man the sun shone on, of adversaries the most fearless, of enemies the most chivalrous, of friends the truest, of loves the sweetest--lie you there. Those that hated you were many. But there was one that loved you--ay, and loves you, and ever shall love you! Lie you there, heart that never feared aught but God and dishonour and a lie--heart that never took favour from man nor refused one to woman. See, I will touch your lips--those sweetest lips that never of my own will, have I touched before. The earth be kind to your body, sweet. The heavens receive your soul with honour, and the angels that warred with Satan and vanquished him, stand up at your entrance to give you room!'

She smoothed the cloth upon the face with mighty love in the caressing of her finger tips.

'Good-night, dear love,' she said, lifting it for the last time and kissing his brow. 'It is sweet, even thus in death, to tell thee that I love thee!'

Then, when Marjorie had done bidding her love farewell, we lifted the crossed spears, and setting them again on the shoulders of men, we carried Gilbert of Bargany away.

*CHAPTER XXVI*

*DAYS OF QUIET*

I ran back to bid Marjorie return with us to Culzean, where at least we could keep her safe. She stood where we had left her, looking at the place where her love had lain. The marks of the crossed spears and certain drops of blood alone remained on the snow.

At the sound of my voice she started as from a dream.

'Ah, Launcelot,' she said, looking at me strangely, as though I too had been dead and in a newer life had unexpectedly confronted her, 'do you think that I, who fear not fifty in the highway, fear one or two in the house of Auchendrayne? My work is not done there yet,' she added; 'till it be, there I shall bide.'

And with that she mounted and rode away. Never did I see a cavalcade ride home in such fashion after a victory. There was not a man of us from Culzean but went with his head hanging down like a little whipped cur. And when we told Sir Thomas he was like to break his heart, for he was a kindly man, and had ever a great affection for Bargany.

And Nell, when she heard it, went out and stopped the boys that played at ball and shouted in the tennis-court. Also, to keep them sober, she set them to learn their religion--of which, in common with all in that country side (save perhaps my master) they had great need.

But strange to tell, after the grief for Bargany's death was a little by-past among us, there befell the quietest and most gracious time that ever had been in the house of Culzean. It was like the coming of joy after the rain--the warm rain of pity which thawed our winter-frozen hearts.