Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1660-1688 -- Fiction; War stories
Here he was interrupted by Mucklewrath, who cried in a voice that made
the very beams of the roof quiver--"Who talks of peace and safe conduct?
who speaks of mercy to the bloody house of the malignants? I say take the
infants and dash them against the stones; take the daughters and the
mothers of the house and hurl them from the battlements of their trust,
that the dogs may fatten on their blood as they did on that of Jezabel,
the spouse of Ahab, and that their carcasses may be dung to the face of
the field even in the portion of their fathers!"
"He speaks right," said more than one sullen voice from behind; "we will
be honoured with little service in the great cause, if we already make
fair weather with Heaven's enemies."
"This is utter abomination and daring impiety," said Morton, unable to
contain his indignation.
"What blessing can you expect in a cause, in which you listen to the
mingled ravings of madness and atrocity?"
"Hush, young man!" said Kettledrummle, "and reserve thy censure for that
for which thou canst render a reason. It is not for thee to judge into
what vessels the spirit may be poured."
"We judge of the tree by the fruit," said Poundtext, "and allow not that
to be of divine inspiration that contradicts the divine laws."
"You forget, brother Poundtext," said Macbriar, "that these are the
latter days, when signs and wonders shall be multiplied."
Poundtext stood forward to reply; but, ere he could articulate a word,
the insane preacher broke in with a scream that drowned all competition.
"Who talks of signs and wonders? Am not I Habakkuk Mucklewrath, whose
name is changed to Magor-Missabib, because I am made a terror unto myself
and unto all that are around me?--I heard it--When did I hear it?--Was it
not in the Tower of the Bass, that overhangeth the wide wild sea?--And it
howled in the winds, and it roared in the billows, and it screamed, and
it whistled, and it clanged, with the screams and the clang and the
whistle of the sea-birds, as they floated, and flew, and dropped, and
dived, on the bosom of the waters. I saw it--Where did I see it?--Was it
not from the high peaks of Dunbarton, when I looked westward upon the
fertile land, and northward on the wild Highland hills; when the clouds
gathered and the tempest came, and the lightnings of heaven flashed in
sheets as wide as the banners of an host?--What did I see?--Dead corpses
and wounded horses, the rushing together of battle, and garments rolled
in blood.--What heard I?--The voice that cried, Slay, slay--smite--slay
utterly--let not your eye have pity! slay utterly, old and young, the
maiden, the child, and the woman whose head is grey--Defile the house and
fill the courts with the slain!"
"We receive the command," exclaimed more than one of the company. "Six
days he hath not spoken nor broken bread, and now his tongue is
unloosed:--We receive the command; as he hath said, so will we do."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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