The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 3 (of 3)Hogg, James
History
The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 3 (of 3)
Hogg, James
Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- Robert II, 1371-1390 -- Fiction
When the day light arose, the English fought within a semicircular
wall of mangled carcasses; for, grievous to relate, they were not
corpses; yet were they piled in a heap higher than a man's height,
which was moving with agonized life from top to bottom, and from the
one end to the other; for the men having all fallen by sword wounds,
few of them were quite dead. The English were now reduced to a small
number, yet, in the strife, their ardour seemed to prevail over that
of their opponents. The Border chiefs, inured as they were to war,
stood amazed, and even shocked, at the scene presented to their
view. Yardbire was the first to deprecate it in these words: "Gude
faith, Sirs, it strikes me, that this is rather carrying war to an
extremity."
"Rescue! rescue!" shouted the Warden: "Give quarter to these men for
my sake. I will pay their ransom myself."
When the Douglas' vassals heard this, they lowered the points of their
swords, and drew back from the slaughter, commanding the English to
ground their weapons. The latter consulted together for a few minutes,
and void of all dread, save that of being obliged to submit to the
Scots, they broke with one consent over the pile of human bodies, and,
carrying destruction before them, opened a way into the middle of the
Scottish columns; nor ceased they fighting until every man of them
was cut down. The rest of the English army were in a fold. Escape was
impossible. Ten men could have prevented it on all sides, yet for a
whole day and night did they hold their tenure of that perpendicular
bank, although before the evening many were losing their holds, and
rolling into the river from exhaustion. Then the sudden immersion
arousing them somewhat from their torpor, scores of them might be seen
at a time crawling to the side of the water, and endeavouring to
clamber once more up the bank; but at last they sunk back into the
deep, and their last breath arose to the surface in small chains of
fetid air bubbles. No one knew what became of the young and intrepid
Clavering,--at what time, or in what place he fell; and without a head
as these men were, it was not till the second morning, when the breath
of revenge had cooled, and after much expostulation on the part of the
conquerors, that the wretched remnant yielded themselves prisoners of
war, and were all suffered to depart on their parole, with high
encomiums on their valour. But these commendations were received with
the gall of bitterness; and none of them could tell, when they went
home, how or by what means they were expelled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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