Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1660-1688 -- Fiction; War stories
It has been frequently remarked, that the tidings of important events fly
with a celerity almost beyond the power of credibility, and that reports,
correct in the general point, though inaccurate in details, precede the
certain intelligence, as if carried by the birds of the air. Such rumours
anticipate the reality, not unlike to the “shadows of coming events,”
which occupy the imagination of the Highland Seer. Harrison, in his ride,
encountered some such report concerning the event of the battle, and
turned his horse back to Tillietudlem in great dismay. He made it his
first business to seek out the Major, and interrupted him in the midst of
a prolix account of the siege and storm of Dundee, with the ejaculation,
“Heaven send, Major, that we do not see a siege of Tillietudlem before we
are many days older!”
“How is that, Harrison?--what the devil do you mean?” exclaimed the
astonished veteran.
“Troth, sir, there is strong and increasing belief that Claver’se is
clean broken, some say killed; that the soldiers are all dispersed, and
that the rebels are hastening this way, threatening death and devastation
to a’ that will not take the Covenant.”
“I will never believe that,” said the Major, starting on his feet--“I
will never believe that the Life-Guards would retreat before rebels;--and
yet why need I say that,” he continued, checking himself, “when I have
seen such sights myself?--Send out Pike, and one or two of the servants,
for intelligence, and let all the men in the Castle and in the village
that can be trusted take up arms. This old tower may hold them play a
bit, if it were but victualled and garrisoned, and it commands the pass
between the high and low countries.--It’s lucky I chanced to be
here.--Go, muster men, Harrison.--You, Gudyill, look what provisions you
have, or can get brought in, and be ready, if the news be confirmed, to
knock down as many bullocks as you have salt for.--The well never goes
dry.--There are some old-fashioned guns on the battlements; if we had
but ammunition, we should do well enough.”
“The soldiers left some casks of ammunition at the Grange this morning,
to bide their return,” said Harrison.
“Hasten, then,” said the Major, “and bring it into the Castle, with every
pike, sword, pistol, or gun, that is within our reach; don’t leave so
much as a bodkin--Lucky that I was here!--I will speak to my sister
instantly.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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