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_Hotspur_. I'll keep them all; By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them; No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not; I'll keep them, by this hand.
_Worcester_. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes.
Those prisoners you shall keep.--
_Hotspur_. Nay, I will, that's flat:-- He said he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer; But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holla "Mortimer!"
Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but "Mortimer," and give it him To keep his anger still in motion.
_The First Part of_ KING HENRY IV., _Act I., Scene 3_.
The fight at Homildon Hill took place on a Monday in August, 1402, and the memory of it is kept alive by the name of the "Monday Clough" near Wooler, where the archers commenced the fight.
More than a hundred years after this, the last, and in many respects the greatest, battle ever fought on Northumbrian soil took place at Flodden.
King James IV. of Scotland had several grievances against England, which had rankled in his mind for some time; he had not yet received the full amount of the dowry which had been promised with his wife, Margaret Tudor, sister of Henry VIII., although they had been married for many years; a Scottish n.o.ble, Sir Robert Ker, had been killed in Northumberland, and the slayer could not be found to be brought to justice--he was outlawed, but that seemed to King James very insufficient; a Border raid on a large scale, led by Lord Hume, had met with disastrous defeat on Milfield Plain at the hands of Sir William Bulmer; and Andrew Barton, a notable sea-captain, whom James was looking forward to seeing as one of the best leaders of his new navy, had been killed in a sea-fight by Thomas Howard, Lord Admiral of England. Added to all this, France had appealed to him to invade England in order to force Henry VIII. to abandon his French war; the English monarch was just then conducting the siege of Terouenne, and the Queen of France sent a romantic appeal to James (together with a large sum of money) begging him to march "three feet on to English ground" for her sake.
No time could have been more favourable in James' eyes for the enterprise; and in a very short s.p.a.ce of time he had an army of 100,000 men collected, and marched from Edinburgh to the Tweed, which he crossed near Coldstream. He laid siege to Norham, and captured it after a week's investment; and thereafter Wark, Ford, Etal, Duddo and Chillingham fell before him. He took up his quarters at Ford Castle, and on marching later to meet Surrey, left it almost in ruins.
Surrey meantime had gathered a large force from the northern counties, much to James' surprise, for he had taken it for granted that nearly every English fighting man would be with Henry in Flanders. There were bowmen and billmen from Ches.h.i.+re and Lancas.h.i.+re under the Stanley banner; and James Stanley, Bishop of Ely, brought the banner of St.
Etheldreda, the Northumbrian queen who founded the monastery of Ely.
Admiral Sir Thomas Howard brought a band of sailors to join his father at Alnwick. Dacre came with a strong contingent from the western Marches, men from Alston Moor, Gilsland, and Eskdale, and also some from Tynemouth and Bamburgh; and Sir Brian Tunstall with Sir William Bulmer led the men of the Bishopric under the banner of St. Cuthbert.
From Alnwick Surrey sent a letter pledging himself to meet James by September 9th, and challenging him to battle, a challenge which was promptly accepted by the Scottish king. Marching from Alnwick towards the Scottish army, Surrey encamped on September 6th on Wooler Haughs.
James had formed his camp on Flodden Hill, and all Surrey's devices could not induce him abandon this strong position. Many of his own n.o.bles advised him not to risk a battle, but to withdraw while there was yet time; and some were ready to leave the camp and return home, which thousands of the more undisciplined in his army had done already, being more anxious to carry off their plunder safely than to stay and fight.
But James was eager for the contest, and felt himself bound in honour to give battle to Surrey; he answered haughtily those who counselled retreat, and scornfully told Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, that he might go home if he were afraid. The old man sorrowfully left the field, but his two sons remained with their rash but gallant king, and were both slain.
On the day before the battle took place, Surrey, that "auld crooked carle," as James called him, marched his men northward across the Till and encamped for the night near Barmoor Wood. To the Scots this looked as though they had gone off towards Berwick, to repeat James' own manoeuvre, and invade the country in the absence of its king; and they must have thought that there would be little chance of the battle for which James had punctiliously waited taking place on the morrow. But Surrey's purpose proved to be quite otherwise. On the following morning he sent the vanguard of his army, with the artillery, to make a detour of several miles round by Twizell bridge, where they re-crossed to the south bank of the Till; and coming south-eastward towards Flodden, they were joined by the rest of the army, which had plunged through the stream, swollen by continuous rains, at two points near Crookham. The two divisions met at Branxton, after having waded through a marsh which extended from Branxton nearly to the Till, and which the Scots had thought impa.s.sable.
Seeing that the English were about to occupy Branxton Hill, which would entirely cut him off from communication with Scotland, James was forced to abandon his advantageous position; he gave orders for the camp-refuse to be fired, and under cover of the dense clouds of smoke marched down to forestall Surrey and occupy Branxton ridge. The two armies suddenly found themselves within a few spears' length of each other, and the battle was begun by the artillery on both sides.
Sudden, as he spoke, From the sharp ridges of the hill, All downward to the banks of Till Was wreathed in sable smoke.
Volumed, and vast, and rolling far, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war As down the hill they broke; Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone Announced their march; their tread alone, At times one warning trumpet blown, At times a stifled hum.
Told England, from his mountain throne King James did rus.h.i.+ng come.
Scarce could they hear or see their foes Until at weapon-point they close.
Many of the raw levies on the English side fled at the first sound of the Scottish cannon; but the master of the ordnance, Lord Sinclair, was killed, and his guns silenced. Then the battle joined, and the first result was that the English right wing under Sir Edmund Howard was scattered and broken before the impetuous charge of the Gordons and Highlanders under the Earl of Huntley and Lord Home. Sir Edmund narrowly escaped with his life; but Lord Dacre bringing up his reserve of hors.e.m.e.n at that moment checked the further advance of the Scots. The two central divisions of the armies engaged each other fiercely, the Earl of Surrey, with his son Sir Thomas Howard commanding the English centre, and King James, with the Earls of Crawford and Montrose that of the Scots. Sir Thomas, after having been so hard pressed as to send the _Agnus Dei_ he wore to his father as a signal for help, afterwards with Sir Marmaduke Constable defeated the Earl of Crawford, whose division was opposed to him. Dacre and Sir Thomas now charged Lord Home and drove him some little way back, but could not dislodge his men entirely from their position. The Earl of Bothwell, who commanded the Scottish reserves, now came up to the help of the king, and the day seemed about to be decided in favour of the Scots, when Lord Stanley, on the English left, exactly reversed the fortunes of the right wing, and scattered and routed the Highlanders led by the Earls of Lennox and Argyle. Then with his Lancas.h.i.+re lads he attacked the rear of the Scottish position, as did also Dacre and Sir Thomas Howard.
"They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly, And stainless Tunstall's banner white And Edmund Howard's lion bright All bear them bravely in the fight, Although against them come Of gallant Gordons many a one, And many a stubborn Highlandman, And many a rugged Border clan With Huntly and with Home.
Far on the left, unseen the while, Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle."
Nothing now remained for the Scottish centre, hemmed in on all sides, but to make a stubborn last stand; and gallantly did they do it. The flower of Scotland's chivalry surrounded their brave monarch, and in the falling dusk fought desperately to guard their king.
"No thought was there of dastard flight; Linked in that serried phalanx tight, Groom fought like n.o.ble, squire like knight, As fearlessly and well.
The stubborn spearmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood The instant that he fell."
As night fell, the fierce struggle continued until the darkness made it impossible to see friend or foe, but the fate of Scotland's bravest was sealed. The king lay dead, covered with wounds, and around him a heap of slain; those who were able made their way in haste from the field, while the English host encamped where it stood. The more lawless in each army plundered both sides impartially, and when the king's body was found next day, it too was stripped like many others around it.
"Then did their loss his foemen know, Their king, their lords, their mightiest low, They melted from the field as snow Dissolves in silent dew.
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash While many a broken band, Disordered, through its currents dash To gain the Scottish land; To town and tower, to down and dale, To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, And raise the universal wail."
The tragic effects of that terrible day were long felt in Scotland.
Every family of note in the land lost one or more of its members on the fatal field, besides the thousands of humbler beings who fell at the same time. Scotland did not recover from the crus.h.i.+ng blow for more than a hundred years; and for many a day the people could not believe that their gallant king was really slain, but continued to hope that he had escaped in the darkness, and would one day return.
There has recently been erected on Flodden Field a simple cross of stone as a memorial of that tragic day. It was unveiled on September 27th, 1910, by Sir George Douglas, Bart. The inscription on the stone is "To the Brave of both Nations."
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
A LAMENT FOR FLODDEN.
I've heard the liltin' at our ewe-milking, La.s.ses a' liltin' before dawn o' day; But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning-- The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
At bughts,[12] in the mornin', nae blythe lads are scornin', La.s.ses are lonely and dowie and wae; Nae daffin', nae jabbin', but sighin' and sabbin', Ilk ane lifts her leglin [13] and hies her away.
In harst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, Bandsters are lyart,[14] and runkled, and gray; At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching [15]-- The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming 'Bout stacks, with the la.s.ses at "bogle" to play; But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie-- The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.
Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!
The English for ance by guile wan the day; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.
We'll hear nae mair liltin' at our ewe-milkin'; Women and bairns are heartless and wae; Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning-- The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
[Footnote 12: Bughts = sheep-pens.]
[Footnote 13: Leglin = milk-pail.]
[Footnote 14 Lyart = grizzled.]
[Footnote 15: Fleeching = coaxing.]
CHAPTER X.
TALES AND LEGENDS.
Northumberland, as might be guessed from its wild history, is rich in tales of daring and stories of gallant deeds; there are true tales, as well as legendary ones, which latter, after all, may be true in substance though not in detail, in spirit and possibility though not in a certain sequence of facts. Now-a-days we look upon dragons as fabulous animals, and stories of the destruction they wrought, their fierceness and their might are dismissed with a smile, and mentally relegated to a place amongst the fairy tales that delighted our childhood's days, when the idea of belief or disbelief simply did not enter the question. Yet what are the dragon stories but faint memories of those gigantic and fearsome beasts which roamed the earth in the "dim, red dawn of man"--their names, as we read the labels on their skeletons in our museums, being now the most fearsome things about them! No one can deny that the ichthyosaurus, plesiosaurus, and all the rest of their tribe did exist; and were they to be encountered in these days would spread the same terror around, and find man almost as helpless before them as did any fierce dragon of the fairy tales. That part of the legends, therefore, has its foundation in fact; though from the nature of the case, we certainly do not possess an authenticated account of any particular contest between primitive man and one of these gigantic creatures. That oldest Northumbrian poem, however, the "Beowulf,"
chants the praises of its hero's prowess in encounters of the kind; and the north-country still has its legends of the Sockburn Worm, the Lambton Worm, and the "Laidly" Worm of Spindleston Heugh, the two first having their _venue_ in Durham, and the last in Northumberland. The Spindlestone, a high crag not far from Bamburgh, and Bamburgh Castle itself, form the scene of this well-known legend. The fair Princess Margaret, daughter of the King of Bamburgh was turned into a "laidly worm" (loathly or loathsome serpent) by her wicked stepmother, who was jealous of the lovely maid. The whole district was in terror of this dreadful monster, which desolated the country-side in its search for food.
"For seven miles east and seven miles west And seven miles north and south, No blade of gra.s.s or corn would grow, So deadly was her mouth.
The milk of seven streakit cows It was her cost to kepe, They brought her dayly, whyche she drank Before she wente to slepe."
This offering proved successful in pacifying the creature, and it remained in the cave at Spindleston, coming out daily to drink its fill from the trough prepared for it. But the fear of it in no wise diminished, and