Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1660-1688 -- Fiction; War stories
“Fear naething for me, Cuddie,” said the old dame, transported to ecstasy
by the success of her party; “fear naething for me! I will stand, like
Deborah, on the tap o’ the cairn, and tak up my sang o’ reproach against
these men of Harosheth of the Gentiles, whose horse-hoofs are broken by
their prancing.”
The enthusiastic old woman would, in fact, have accomplished her purpose,
of mounting on the cairn, and becoming, as she said, a sign and a banner
to the people, had not Cuddie, with more filial tenderness than respect,
detained her by such force as his shackled arms would permit him to
exert.
“Eh, sirs!” he said, having accomplished this task, “look out yonder,
Milnwood; saw ye ever mortal fight like the deevil Claver’se?--Yonder
he’s been thrice doun amang them, and thrice cam free aff.--But I think
we’ll soon be free oursells, Milnwood. Inglis and his troopers look ower
their shouthers very aften, as if they liked the road ahint them better
than the road afore.”
Cuddie was not mistaken; for, when the main tide of fugitives passed at a
little distance from the spot where they were stationed, the corporal and
his party fired their carabines at random upon the advancing insurgents,
and, abandoning all charge of their prisoners, joined the retreat of
their comrades. Morton and the old woman, whose hands were at liberty,
lost no time in undoing the bonds of Cuddie and of the clergyman, both of
whom had been secured by a cord tied round their arms above the elbows.
By the time this was accomplished, the rear-guard of the dragoons, which
still preserved some order, passed beneath the hillock or rising ground
which was surmounted by the cairn already repeatedly mentioned. They
exhibited all the hurry and confusion incident to a forced retreat, but
still continued in a body. Claverhouse led the van, his naked sword
deeply dyed with blood, as were his face and clothes. His horse was all
covered with gore, and now reeled with weakness. Lord Evandale, in not
much better plight, brought up the rear, still exhorting the soldiers to
keep together and fear nothing. Several of the men were wounded, and one
or two dropped from their horses as they surmounted the hill.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account