CHAPTER XXXV.

THE FOUR HORSEMEN.

"Look ye, sirs! The breath of murder loads the air to-night-- Be watchful and be wary." _Old Play._

Under the Duke of Montrose, Lindesay his son, the Earls of Mar, Athole, and others, the main body of James's forces retired slowly through the Torwood, by the old Roman Way, still fighting with obstinate valour, and protracting the struggle until the long and lingering eve of June had faded into night, and darkness spread a veil over the horrors of the battle, when the royalists, as usual with all hastily collected levies, retired into the mountains, and disbanded.

The victorious lords, with the young prince still in their possession, passed that night near the field, and next day marched to the town and palace of Linlithgow.

The moon was shining in the summer sky, when Sir David Falconer freed himself from the bodies of three slain men, who lay heavily and coldly above him; rising from the field, he was able to look after his own safety--for many of the border prickers were hovering abroad in search of rings and jewels, or gold-handled daggers and embroidered belts. A body lay near him sheathed in bright armour; its gauntletted hands clutched the earth, the vizor of the casque was up, and the dead man's eyes glared horribly in the pale moonlight. Between his teeth were some blades of grass, which, when dying, he had bitten in his agony. On his breast sparkled the diamond jewel of the Thistle--for this was the corpse of Alexander Cunningham, the noble Earl of Glencairn. This brave warrior lay above the blue silk banner of his house, charged with its shakefork _sable_--the same pennon which his bride, fair Margaret of Hailes, had woven for his lance in their Castle of Kilmaurs.

Most of the wounded had been removed by their friends or by the merciful; others had been speared by the mosstroopers of Hailes, Home, and Buccleugh; thus, thick as grain on a harvest field, the bodies of the dead--white-visaged, and gleaming blue in their coats of mail--strewed all the plain; but they were quiet and still as the leafy woods or the azure sky of that sweet summer night.

Ignorant of where the royal forces had retreated, and anxious only to ascertain the fact of the King's safety--of which he had great doubts on beholding the number of the guard who were lying dead three and four deep, and whom he knew easily by their scarlet surcoats trimmed with yellow,--and being anxious to rejoin the frigate, Falconer arose with difficulty, and after refreshing himself by a draught of pure water from the Sauchieburn, at a place above where the dead lay in it, he took his way towards the north, and fortunately found a stray horse saddled and bridled grazing in a field, near the gate of which its rider, a trooper, with the laurel of the Grahams in his morion, lay dead. This animal with great docility permitted Falconer to seize the reins and leap on his back; thus mounted, he soon left the fatal field behind, and rode through the scattered oaks of the Torwood towards the ferry by which the Forth was crossed opposite Alloa.

The whole country appeared deserted; he saw no one, and heard not even a dog bark; thus the stillness became oppressive after the storm of war, the strife of wounds and agony, the carnage and horrors of the day that was past. He soon reached the boor-tree thickets at the Craig ward, and saw the beautiful river with the Clackmannan hills and old Alloa rise before him in the moonlight, with the King's ships at anchor in the stream, with courses loose and a spring upon their cables. Half a bow-shot from the beach were several well-oared boats, full of armed men, and by their garb Falconer recognised his own arquebussiera and the King's seamen, while the royal standard drooped from the boats' sterns, and swept the water.

"Ho--boat yoho!" cried he, leaping from his horse.

"David Falconer, at last!" cried a number of distant voices, as the oars dipped, and the boat shot in.

"Welcome in safety, messmate o' mine," said the bluff admiral, who was clad in his helmet and suit of steel; "we heard you had parted your cable in yonder devilish field."

"Only unhorsed, Sir Andrew."

"Any planks stove in, or timbers started?"

"None, thank Heaven! though I received a blow that must have killed me, had I not----"

"Like most Scotsmen in these troublous times, been well used to cuts and blows," interrupted Barton. "So the battle was fairly fought?"

"Yea, fairly as the Ball of Scone, as the saw hath it--fairly fought and most unhappily lost. Alas! yonder field of battle is the very garden of Death!"

"And what of the king?" asked several voices.

"The king--is he not on board the _Yellow Frigate_?"

"No," said the admiral; "I would to God he were, for then he would be in safe anchoring ground. Which way did he ride?"

"I know not, for I fell by his side in the middle of the battle----"

"Happy thou, my good Falconer, to share that day's vengeance with the king," said the admiral; "but that I had other ropes to splice, I had assuredly been with thee. Well?"

"The lord Lindesay gave him a horse of matchless blood and speed, whereon, if evil happened or the day were lost, he might reach you here at the Craigward----"

"We have never sighted him once, though many a fugitive hath crossed, for we have been little better than ferrymen since the gloaming fell. The auld Earl of Menteith, in his battered harness; the Preceptor of Torphichen, with three other knights of Rhodez; and many of the Ogilvies, as we knew by their tartan plaids and the hawthorn in their helmets; and Murrays, with the juniper twig;--most of them pricked with spears or slashed by sword cuts, have we taken across the river; but nought have we seen of the king, though the Preceptor averred that he saw him ride towards the north."

"What if he should have fallen from the Lindesay's fiery steed, and now be lying in the Torwood?"

"St. Mary avert it!" said Falconer. "Yet, when I bethink me now, I saw more than one dead man lying in his armour on the sward, between this and the field."

"Sayest thou so?" exclaimed the admiral, leaping lightly ashore, despite his years and rotundity, "and we are loitering here like so many hag-ridden lubbers! Barton, do thou keep the boats here for us; and, Falconer, take twenty of thine arquebusses and come with me; we'll bear up towards the battlefield a little way, and see if aught may be descried of the king; come on shore with your flasks, forks, and arquebusses, heave a-head my men, and quickly."

The soldiers hastened up the bank, and Falconer would have resigned his horse to the admiral, but the latter declined, saying "that he always lost some of his outer-sheathing when perched on horseback." So Sir David drew his sword, and led the way back to the field of battle.

They marched three or four miles without finding any trace of him they sought. At last the sound of hoofs was heard near the milltown of Bannock.

"Hist--tarry a bit," said the admiral. "Lie to, sirs."

"Halt!" cried Falconer, in a soldierly tone; "plant your forks and wind up your spanners! Be ready to fire at a moment's notice!"

Four heavily-armed horsemen, all riding furiously, the last however, a long way behind his companions, dashed along the road, and though repeatedly required to stop, they rode recklessly on, with their armour flashing, the horsehoofs striking fire, and disappeared among the Torwood oaks.

"Fire on the sternmost, and make him bring to," cried the admiral, angrily; "throw a shot across his forefoot."

An arquebussier fired: the bullet whistled close to the horseman's casque, and panting and breathless he reined up, while his horse plunged and reared fearfully.

"Hallo! haul taut your reins or braces! don't miss stays," said the admiral.

"From whence come you, sir?" asked Falconer, confronting him.

"From the field, as you may see," he replied, showing a drawn dagger in his right hand.

"Know you aught of the king?"

The other gave a diabolical laugh.

"Elsewhere I have heard that laugh!" said the admiral, advancing a step with his Jedwood axe in his hand.

"Are you not the Admiral Wood?"

"Yes; and thou----"

"Sir Hew Borthwick, at your service."

"Villain!" began Falconer; but the admiral stayed him.

"Saw ye the king to-day?"

"Yes--and moreover I saw him not a minute since."

"Where--where?"

"In yonder mill."

"And is he there now?"

"No," replied the subtle assassin; "he is one of yonder horsemen before me, and now rides hard to reach the _Yellow Frigate_."

"Say ye so;--about ship, my lads, and after him," said the admiral, as they hastily began to retrace their steps; while Borthwick, driving spurs into his horse, with a shout--but whether of fear or triumph it is impossible to say--dashed along the road after his three comrades.

_The dagger in his hand was wet with James's blood!_

On regaining the Craigward, the admiral and his companions found that they had been deceived, for neither the king nor any one else had approached the ferry since they had left it.

Many days passed away, yet no tidings were heard of the unfortunate king.