Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
"I saw Heselrigge the governor. He avowed the transaction; but awed by
the power which he thinks I possess in the country, he consented to
spare Bothwell while I and my family remain in it. It being nearly
dark, I took my leave, and was proceeding toward my servants in the
courtyard when a young man accosted me. I recognized him to be the
officer who had commanded the party I had driven from the castle.
Heselrigge having told me that he was his nephew, I made no hesitation
to go back with him, when he informed me that his uncle had forgotten
something of importance, and begged me to return. I followed his
steps; but instead of conducting me to the room in which I had
conversed with Heselrigge, he led me along a dark passage into a small
apartment, where telling me his uncle would attend me, he suddenly
retreated out of the door, and before I could recollect myself I heard
him bolt it after him.
"I now saw myself a prisoner; and alarmed at what might be intended to
my defenseless family, I made every essay to force the door, but it was
in vain. Driven to despair, I remained in a state of mind not to be
described, when the bolt was withdrawn, and two men entered, with
manacles in their hands. They attempted to seize me, telling me I was
the prisoner of King Edward. I did not listen further, but wounding
one with my dagger, felled the other to the ground; and darting past
him, made my way through what passages I cannot tell, till I found
myself in a street leading from behind the governor's house. I ran
against some one as I rushed from the portal; it was my servant Neil.
I hastily told him to draw his sword and follow me. We then hurried
forward; he telling me he had stepped out to observe the night, while
the rest of my men were awaiting me in the house, wondering at my delay.
"Rejoiced at my escape, and fearing the worst of consequences from the
treachery of Heselrigge, I was hastening onward, determined to pursue
my way on foot to the protection of my family, when, at the turning of
an angle which leads to the Bothwell road, we were suddenly surrounded
by armed men. The moon shone full on their faces, and I discovered
they were Southrons, and that young Heselrigge was at their head.
"He aimed a blow at my head with his battle-ax, and in a voice of
triumph exclaimed to his soldiers, 'The plunder of Bothwell, my lads!
Down with its lord! All but the lady Helen shall be yours!"
"In a moment every sword was directed toward me. They wounded me in
several places; but the thought of my daughter gave supernatural vigor
to my arm, and I defended myself till the cries of my servant brought
you, my brave deliverer, to my rescue. But, while I am safe, perhaps
my treacherous pursuer has marched toward Bothwell, too sure to commit
the horrid violence he meditates; there are none to guard my child but
a few domestics, the unpracticed sword of my stripling nephew, and the
feeble arms of my wife."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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