Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
"His Imperial Highness looked upon the scene of battle for a few
minutes, and, much commoved at what he saw, was somewhat hasty in his
directions to the Varangians to resume their arms, and precipitate
their march towards Laodicea; whereupon one of those northern soldiers
said boldly, though in opposition to the imperial command, 'If we
attempt to go hastily down this hill, our rear-guard will be confused,
not only by our own hurry, but by these runaway scoundrels of Syrians,
who in their headlong flight will not fail to mix themselves among our
ranks. Let two hundred Varangians, who will live and die for the honour
of England, abide in the very throat of this pass with me, while the
rest escort the Emperor to this Laodicea, or whatever it is called. We
may perish in our defence, but we shall die in our duty; and I have
little doubt but we shall furnish such a meal as will stay the stomach
of these yelping hounds from seeking any farther banquet this day.'
"My imperial father at once discovered the importance of this advice,
though it made him wellnigh weep to see with what unshrinking fidelity
these poor barbarians pressed to fill up the number of those who were
to undertake this desperate duty--with what kindness they took leave of
their comrades, and with what jovial shouts they followed their
sovereign with their eyes as he proceeded on his march down the hill,
leaving them behind to resist and perish. The Imperial eyes were filled
with tears; and I am not ashamed to confess, that amid the terror of
the moment, the Empress, and I myself, forgot our rank in paying a
similar tribute to these bold and self-devoted men.
"We left their leader carefully arraying his handful of comrades in
defence of the pass, where the middle path was occupied by their
centre, while their wings on either side were so disposed as to act
upon the flanks of the enemy, should he rashly press upon such as
appeared opposed to him in the road. We had not proceeded half way
towards the plain, when a dreadful shout arose, in which the yells of
the Arabs were mingled with the deep and more regular shouts which
these strangers usually repeat thrice, as well when bidding hail to
their commanders and princes, as when in the act of engaging in battle.
Many a look was turned back by their comrades, and many a form was seen
in the ranks which might have claimed the chisel of a sculptor, while
the soldier hesitated whether to follow the line of his duty, which
called him to march forward with his Emperor, or the impulse of
courage, which prompted him to rush back to join his companions.
Discipline, however, prevailed, and the main body marched on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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