But, like a fool, I contented myself with the lance-thrust and the
chance pistol bullet I sped at him in the heat of the fight. For I
never could abide the cruel slaying of the wounded, which is practised
even more in these private wars than in the great affairs of nations.
And this over delicacy has often stood in the way of my advantage.
So I turned, and left Auchendrayne lying on the ground. As I came back I
heard Bargany crying out, ’I fear we are too few! But have at them till
we die!’
There was but one that fought with him, all his other companions being
stricken down. And in a trice he alone was left on his horse.
Nevertheless, it was with a light hand on the rein and a feat touch of
the heel, that Gilbert Kennedy kept his head, though the blows fell like
hail on his armour. There were three that he held at arm’s length—all
the while crying out for the Earl, and trying fiercely to break through
the spearmen, who stood like a fence about the person of Cassillis.
’Where is my lord himself?’ he cried. ’Let him now keep promise, and
come out like a man to break a tree with me!’
So went the fight of the one against many, and such deeds of valiance
saw I never any man do in this realm of Scotland, though in my time I
have seen so many brave and worthy things done. For Gilbert Kennedy
attacked Patrick Rippitt and Quintain Crawford with strokes that nearly
dang them senseless, crying at each blow, ’Bargany! Bargany! To the
rescue, Bargany!’ But ever as he raged through the fight like a lion, I
saw John Dick watching him with a poised lance in his hand. And while
Gilbert was at blows with Rippitt and Big Quintain, Dick raised the
spear and sent it quivering at him, with an art which I never saw any
man master of, save only himself. Gilbert Kennedy had taken no note of
him—for, as I heard afterwards, Auchendrayne had told all that were in
the camp of Bargany, that John Dick was his man, and his paid
intelligencer in the host of the enemy.
The poised lance struck young Bargany full in the neck and stayed. So
in the midst of his foes, and striking at them to the last, he fell, who
was the bravest man of his age. And at his overthrow there fell a
silence for a space, and the battle smother cleared. Only the snow fell
and scarce melted on the face that was already white and set in death.
We crossed our spears and made a bier with our cloaks, whereon we laid
him. Then very gently I drew away the deadly lance, though the wound
bled not much, but inwardly, which was worse. We thought to bear him to
some castle of his own folk, as it might be to the house of Auchdrayne.
But the Earl John came and looked at his foe and kinsman as he lay on
the snow with his eyes closed.
’Carry him to my castle at the town end of Maybole,’ said he, ’for that
is near by.’
Now I thought that not the best place in the world for the young man’s
recovery, but, being bidden, it was not mine to reply, but only to obey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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