Covenanters -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- Stuarts, to the Union, 1371-1707 -- Fiction
On escaping the gate they fell in with divers persons going along the
road, who, by their discourse, were returning home to Cupar, and they
walked leisurely with them till they came to a cross-road, where my
grandfather, giving Master Kilspinnie a nodge, turned down the one that
went to the left, followed by him, and it happened to be the road to
Dysart and Crail.
"This will ne'er do," said Master Kilspinnie, "they will pursue us this
gait."
Upon hearing this reasonable apprehension, my grandfather stopped and
conferred with himself, and received on that spot a blessed experience
and foretaste of the protection wherewith, to a great age, he was all
his days protected. For it was in a manner revealed to him that he
should throw away the garbardine and sword which he had received in the
castle, and thereby appear in his simple craftsman's garb, and that they
should turn back and cross the Cupar road, and go along the other, which
led to the Dundee waterside ferry. This he told to his fearful
companion, and likewise, that as often as they fell in with or heard
anybody coming up, the bailie should hasten on before or den himself
among the brechans by the roadside, to the end that it might appear they
were not two persons in company together.
But they had not long crossed the Cupar road and travelled the one
leading to the ferry when they heard the whirlwind sound of horsemen
coming after them, at which the honest man of Crail darted aside and lay
flat on his grouff ayont a bramble bush, while my grandfather began to
lilt as blithely as he could, "The Bonny Lass of Livingston," and the
spring was ever after to him as a hymn of thanksgiving, but the words he
then sang was an auld, ranting, godless and graceless ditty of the
grooms and serving-men that sorned about his father's smiddy, and the
closer that the horsemen came he was strengthened to sing the louder and
the clearer.
"Saw ye twa fellows ganging this gait?" cried the foremost of the
pursuers, pulling up.
"What like were they?" said my grandfather, in a simple manner.
"Ane of them was o' his Grace's guard," replied the man, "but the other,
curse tak me gin I ken what he was like, but he's the bailie or provost
of a burrough's town, and should by rights hae a big belly."
To this my grandfather answered briskly, "Nae sic twa ha'e past me, but
as I was coming along whistling, thinking o' naething, twa sturdy loons,
ane o' them no unlike the hempies o' the castle, ran skirring along, and
I hae a thought that they took the road to Crail or Dysart."
"That was my thought, too," cried the horseman, as he turned his beast,
and the rest that were with him doing the same, bidding my grandfather
good-night, away they scampered back; by which a blessed deliverance was
there wrought to him and his companion on that spot, in that night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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