Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing TimesMacKenna, Robert William
History
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times
MacKenna, Robert William
Adventure stories; Covenanters -- Scotland -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
"As we hurried doon tae Lag’s hoose in the Plain Stanes, I began to
wonder if his summons could ha’e onything to dae wi’ the little affair
you mind in the woods near New Abbey. I’m sayin’ nae mair; even the
darkness may ha’e ears.
"Weel, by and by we cam’ to the hoose at the end o’ the Turnpike Wynd,
and I went up the stair wi’ the trooper. He led me into a room, and we
waited there thegither. As we waited I heard Lag’s voice comin’ frae
the next room. He was swearin’ in a wey the very deil himsel’ couldna’
ha’e bettered. He was yellin’ like ane possessed for cauld water, and as
I stood in the room a wee bit drummer boy cam’ rinnin’ up the stairs wi’
a pail o’ water that he had brocht frae the Nith. As he passed through
the room where I was standin’, it went jaup, jaup, jauppin’ on the
floor. He knocked at Lag’s door and syne went in, and I heard the water
being poured into a basin. Then I heard Lag shoutin’, ’It’s no cauld
ava. It’s boilin’, ye wee deevil! Get awa doon to the water for
anither pailfu’,’ and wi’ fear on his face the wee laddie raced through
the room as shairp as a hare and clattered doon into the street.
"Weel, I waited wi’ the trooper in the antechamber while the oaths frae
the other side o’ the door cam’ thick and fast. I may say I listened
wi’ a kind o’ admiration. Wi’ some folk swearin’ is naething mair than
a bad habit, but wi’ Lag it seems to be a fine art. But that’s by the
way. By and by the sodger that had brocht me took courage and knocked
at the door. It was opened by another trooper. The first trooper gave
him a message for Lag, and he shut the door and delivered it, for the
next thing I heard was Lag shoutin’: ’Well, the packman maun juist bide
my time. I’m far ower bad to see him the noo!’ so his body-servant cam’
oot again and tellt the trooper that had me in haun’. He took me awa’
doon the stairs to the kitchen where there was a lot mair sodgers.
Weel, ye ken, at this I was gey perplexed. Here was I, haeing promised
to ca’ on the widda in the mornin’, held a prisoner. And I had you on
my mind as weel, for frae what I heard in the Inn, you were in danger.
So I said to my guard:
"’If Sir Robert canna see me the noo, is there ony need for me to bide
here? I’ll gi’e ye my promise to come back at four o’clock this
afternoon, when I hope Sir Robert will be able to see me.’
"’No, no,’ said the sodger, ’that winna dae ava. I’m takin’ nae risks.’
"Weel, there was nothing for it but that I should stop where I was,
though it was sair against the grain. Hooever, they produced a bottle o’
’Solway waters,’[#] and I’m bound to say they didna lack for
hospitality. Nothing loth, I took a drappie, and then I took anither,
and we began to talk merrily.
[#] Smuggled brandy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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