Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XIV Part 2

But oh, man, ye hae drawn your sword against your king--ye hae fought against him, ye hae been a traitor in the land that gave ye birth; and, as my faither says, they who are rebellious subjects will never mak good husbands, or be regulated by the ties o' domestic life."

"Flora," returned he, "I deny altogether that what your faither says is correct. But, even allowing that it were, I deny that I hae taken up arms against my king, or that I am a rebellious subject. We took up arms against injustice, tyranny, and oppression; and the king had previously taken up arms against us. Look at the whole conduct o' the Covenant army--hae they not always listened to every proposal o' the king, and trusted to his royal word as faithful subjects who were wishful to prove their attachment to his throne and person? But where can ye point out the instance that he has not fled from his engagement and deceived us, and showed us that his promises and his pledges were not stronger than burned straw? Even the last engagement which he has made, and by which he is to secure to us the rights we have sought for, prayed for, fought for, I believe he will break--he will try to evade it, and give us vengeance in its stead--and if he does so, I am no longer his subject, but his enemy, even though it be at the sacrifice o' you, Flora; and rather than part wi' you, were it in my power, I would ten thousand times lay down my own life."

"Alexander," added she, "I haena forgotten the days when we were happy thegither, and when we neither thought o' kings nor o' onything else, but our twa sels. But now my faither forbids me to speak to ye; and I maun obey him. And though I think that, in the principles ye are following, ye are wrong, very wrong--yet, Alexander, be ye rebel, be ye what you will, there shall never be another name but yours dear to my heart--though we ne'er meet again."

"Dinna meet again, dearest!" cried he; "we will meet--we shall meet!--we shall be happy too! Never talk o' no meeting again." And they clung round each other's necks and wept.

They wandered lang backward and forward, forgetting how the hours flew during their lang, fond whispers; and Flora's father, attended by a servant man, came forth to seek her. He vehemently upbraided and threatened his daughter, and he as vehemently reviled Alexander. He called him by names that I couldna mention, and that he bore patiently; but he also spoke disrespectfully o' his mother--he heaped insults on the memory o' his dead faither. Alexander could endure no more; he sprang forward, he grasped him by the throat. He placed his hand upon his sword, which he still wore, and exclaimed, "Sir! there is a point to all endurance, and you have pa.s.sed it!"

Flora rushed forward, she placed her hand on Alexander's arm--"Forbear!--what would you do?" she cried; "it is my faither!"

"Nothing!" he replied, calmly, yet sternly; "I would do nothing; I have borne much provocation, and acted rashly--for which rashness forgie me, Flora. When I first drew my sword to resist oppression, I vowed that, should I meet one that was dear to you in the ranks o' the oppressor, though his sword should pierce my body, mine should no be raised against him. Fareweel, dearest--happier days may come."

Four years had not pa.s.sed, when the Covenanters found that they had but small cause to be satisfied wi' the promises and a.s.surances o' the king.

Provoked by his exactions, and his attempts at despotism, the people o'

England had taken up arms against him. Montrose, who had been one o' the leaders o' the Covenant party, though a man possessed o' wonderfu'

military talents, was to the full as ambitious as he was clever; and he hadna principle aneugh to withstand royal promises, smiles, and flattery, he therefore turned traitor to the cause in which he had at first embarked, and he turned the arms o' his Highlanders, and a body o'

fierce Irishmen, against the men whom, three years before, he had led to battle. Again many o' the Covenanters rushed to arms, and amongst them the sons o' Alice c.o.c.kburn.

They served as musketeers under Sir James Scott, and fought side by side at the battle of Tippermuir. When, through the treachery o' some, and the want o' management o' others, the Covenanters were put to flight, the little band o' musketeers, seeking refuge in some ruined buildings, kept up an incessant fire upon the forces o' Montrose, as if resolved to sell their lives at the dearest price. Montrose, after many efforts finding that they would not surrender, put himself at the head o' a powerful body o' Athole men, and rushed upon the gallant band, who defended themselves like lions at bay. O' the five brothers, who fought side by side, four fell; and the youngest only was left, like a servant o' Job of old, to tell the tidings. When Alexander beheld the dead bodies o' his brothers lying around him, sorrow and revenge raged in his breast together. His fury became as the fury o' a tiger that is robbed o' its young. He dashed into the midst o' his enemies--he pressed forward to where Montrose was, crying, "Vengeance! vengeance!" he reached him--they engaged hand to hand. Montrose was pressed against a wall o' the ruins.

"Fause traitor! renegade!" exclaimed Alexander--"here shall I die, the avenger o' my country and my brothers' blood!"

His sword was uplifted to strike, when a body o' Athole men rus.h.i.+ng to the rescue o' their commander, the sword was s.h.i.+vered in Alexander's hand, and he was made prisoner.

Several who had heard the words which he had applied to their leader, and had seen his hand raised against his life, insisted that his punishment should be death; and in justification o' their demand, they urged the threat o' the Covenanters to do the same by whosoever Montrose might send to treat wi' them.

A sort o' court-martial was accordingly held, and the fettered prisoner was brought forth before a tribunal who had already agreed upon his sentence. He, however, looked his judges boldly in the face. His cheeks were not blanched, nor did his lips move with fear; he heard the charges read against him--the epithets that had been applied to Montrose, who was the king's representative--and that he had raised his sword against his life. He daringly admitted his having applied the epithets--he repeated them again; and, raising his clenched and fettered hands in the face of his judges, he justified what he had said; and he regretted that his sword had been broken in his hand before it had accomplished the deed which he desired.

Montrose drew his brows together, and glanced upon him sternly; but the young prisoner met his gaze with a look of scorn.

"Away with him," said his judges; "to-morrow, let him be brought forth for execution. His fate shall be an example to all rebels."

During the night which he had heard to be p.r.o.nounced the last o' his existence, and throughout which he heard the heavy tramp o' the sentinel pacing before the place o' his confinement, he mourned not for his own fate; but the tears ran down his cheeks when he thought o' his poor widowed, desolate, and unfriended mother!

"Oh, who," he exclaimed--"who will tell her that her bairns are wi' the dead!--that there's not one left, from the auldest to the youngest!--but that her husband and her sons are gone--a' gone! My mother!--my poor mother!" Then he would pause, strike his hand upon his bosom, lean his brow against the wall o' the apartment, and raising it again, say, "And Flora, too--my ain betrothed! who will tell, who will comfort her? Her father may bear the tidings to her; but there will be nae sympathy for me in his words, nae compa.s.sion for her sorrow. Oh! could I only have seen her before I died--had there been any ane by whom I could hae sent her some token o' my remembrance in death, I would hae bared my breast to the muskets that are to destroy me without regret. But to die in the manner I am to do, and not three-and-twenty yet! Oh, what will my poor Flora say?"

Then, folding his arms in wretchedness, he threw himself upon the straw which had been spread as a bed for his last night's repose.

Early on the following day he was brought forth for execution. Hundreds o' armed men attended as spectators o' the scene; and, as he was pa.s.sing through the midst o' them, he started, as he approached one of them who stood near to Montrose, and he exclaimed, "Mr. Stuart!"

He stood still for a few moments, and approaching the person whose appearance had startled him--"Mr. Stuart," he added, "ye hae long regarded me as an enemy, and as a destroyer o' your peace; but, as one, the very minutes o' whose existence are numbered and as one for whom ye once professed to hae a regard, I would make one sma' request to ye--a dying request--and that is, that ye would take this watch, which is all I hae to leave, and present it to your daughter, my ain betrothed Flora, as the last bequest and token o' remembrance o' him to whom her first, her only vow was plighted."

It was indeed the father o' Flora he addressed, whose loyalty had induced him to take up arms with Montrose; but he turned away his head, and waved back his hand, as Alexander addressed him, as though he knew him not.

Montrose heard the words which the prisoner had spoken, and, approaching Mr. Stuart, he said, "Sir, our young prisoner seems to know ye--yea, by his words, it seems that ye were likely to be more than friends. Fear not to countenance him; if ye can urge aught in his favour--yea, for the services ye have rendered, if ye desire that he should be pardoned--speak but the word, and he shall be pardoned. Montrose has said it."

"My lord," said Stuart, "I will not stand in the way o' justice--I would not, to save a brother! I have nothing to say for the young man."

And, as he turned away, he muttered, loud enough to be heard, "Let him meet his appointed doom, and ye will extinguish the last o' a race o'

incorrigible rebels."

"Youth," said Montrose, addressing Alexander, "from the manner in which ye addressed Mr Stuart, and the way in which he has answered my inquiries respecting ye, it is evident to me that the turbulent spirit o' the times has begotten a feeling between ye which ought not to exist; and, through your quarrel, the heart o' a gentle maiden may be broken.

But I shall have no part in it. I think," he added, in a low tone, "I have seen your face before. When the lot fell upon me to be the first to cross the Tweed at Hirselhaugh into England, are ye not the stripling that was the first to follow me?"

"I am," replied Alexander; "but what signifies that, my lord? _ye have since crossed the water in an opposite direction!_"

Montrose frowned for a moment; but his better nature forced him to admire the heroism of his prisoner; and he added, "Consent to leave the rebellious cause into which you have plunged--embrace the service of your king, and you are pardoned--you shall be promoted--the hand of the maiden whom you love shall be yours. I will be surety for what I have said."

Alexander remained silent for a few minutes, as though there were a struggle in his bosom what he would say; at length, turning his eyes towards Montrose, he answered, "What, my lord! turn renegrade like you!--desert the cause for which my father and my brethren have laid down their lives! Wi' a' the offers which ye hold out--and tempting one o' them is--I scorn life at such a price. Let them lead me to execution; and I have but one request to make to ye. Ye have heard the favour which I besought o' that man, and which he refused to grant"--as he spoke he pointed to the father of Flora. "Will ye inform his daughter that Alexander c.o.c.kburn met death as became a man--that his last thoughts were o' her--that his last breath breathed her name!"

"You shall not die!" exclaimed Montrose, impatiently; "I will not so far gratify your pride. Conduct him to Perth," added he, addressing those who guarded the prisoner; "and let him be held in safe keeping till our further pleasure is known concerning him."

He had admired the dauntless spirit which young c.o.c.kburn displayed, and he sought not his life, but he resolved, if it were possible, to engaged him in his service.

For many weeks, Alexander remained as a prisoner in Perth, without hope of rescue, and without being able to learn which cause prevailed--the King, the Parliament, or the Covenant--for the Civil war was now carried on by three parties. At length, by daily rubbing the iron bars o' his prison window wi' some sort o' soap which he contrived to get, they became so corroded, that the stanchels yielded to his hands as rotten wood. He tore the blankets that covered him into ribands, and, fastening them to a portion o' ane o' the broken bars, lowered himself to the street.

It was night and he fled to the quay--and found concealment in the hold of a vessel, which, on the following day, sailed for London.

But it is time to return to Alice--the widowed, the all but childless mother. Day after day she prayed, she yearned, that she might obtain tidings of her children; but no tidings came. Sleep forsook her solitary pillow, and, like Rachel, she wept for her children because they were not. But a messenger of evil at length arrived, bearing intelligence that four of her sons had fallen in battle, and that the fifth, her youngest, had been made prisoner, and was sentenced to die.

"My cup o' wretchedness is full," cried the bereaved mother; "have I none left--not one--not even my Alexander, my youngest, the comfort o'

my age? But I must submit. It is for the best--it is a' for the best, or it wadna be. I should rejoice that I hae been chastened, and that my affliction has been for a cause that will confer liberty o' conscience on posterity, and freedom on our poor distracted country. But oh, I canna forget, my heart winna do it, that I was ance a wife--that I was a mother, and had five sons, the marrow o' whom ye wouldna hae found in a'

the Merse, but now my husband is not, and my bairns are not, and I am a lone widow, wearying to be wi' them, and wi' no ane here to speak to me!

Yet I ought not to murmur!--no! no! It was me that urged them to go forth and fight the good fight; but, strong as my zeal then was--oh, human nature and a wife's, a mother's feelings, are strong also!"

But Alice, in the day o' her distress, found a comforter, and one that sympathised wi' her in all her sorrows, in one whom she had but small right to expect to be a freend. When she was left to mourn in solitude, wi' but few to visit her, there was one who came to condole wi' her, and who, having once visited her, was seldom absent from her side--and that was Flora Stuart, the betrothed o' her youngest son, o' whom she had spoken rashly.

"Oh, bairn," said she, addressing Flora, "little, little indeed, does Alice c.o.c.kburn deserve at yer hands!--for but for me, and my puir Alexander might this day hae been in life, and held yer hand in his. But forgie me, hinny! It was in a guid cause that I hae sacrificed a' that was dear to me in this warld--only, it was a sair, sair stroke upon a mother!"

Flora strove to comfort her; but it was in vain. She didna repine, neither did she murmur as those who have no hope; but her health, which had never been what doctors would call robust, was unable to stand the shock which her feelings had met wi'; and, in a few weeks after hearing o' the deaths o' her children, Alice c.o.c.kburn was gathered wi' the dead, and Flora Stuart accompanied her body mourning to the grave.

I have mentioned that Alexander concealed himself on board a vessel which sailed for London. He had been three days at sea before he ventured from the place o' his concealment, and the captain himself being the son o' a Covenanter, he was conveyed to the great city in safety. He had been but a short time in London, when, meeting with a gentleman who belonged to the neighbourhood o' Dunse, he learned that his mother was dead, and that his father's brother, believing that he was dead also, had taken possession o' the property.

Alexander had never had the same religious feelings in the cause in which he had been engaged, that his father and his brothers had. He fought for the sake o' what he called liberty, rather than for any feeling o' conscience; and his ruling pa.s.sion was a love o' warlike adventures. He, therefore, had been but a short time in London, when he joined the Parliamentary army; and his courage and talents soon drew upon him the notice o' Cromwell, and others o' the Parliamentary leaders.

It was about six years after the battle o' Tippermuir, when one, who was supposed to be a spy from the royalists, fell into the hands o' a party belonging to the Parliamentary army. He was examined, and evidence bearing strongly against him, that he had come amongst them secretly to pry out where the army would be most vulnerable, and, if possible, to entrap them into the hands o' their enemies, was produced against him.

He was examined a second time, and letters were found concealed about his person which left no doubt o' his being a spy. Some voted that he should be immediately punished with death; but, while all agreed in the nature o' the punishment that ought to be inflicted, there were some who proposed that the execution o' his sentence should be deferred for a few days, until the arrival o' their commanding officer, who was then absent.

During the days that he was thus respited, a daughter o' the spy arrived, and flinging herself upon her knees before the officers who had condemned him, she besought them, with tears, that they would spare her father's life. Her distress might have moved a heart o' stone. Before them they beheld youth, beauty, loveliness, bathed in misery--bowed down wi' distress. They saw her tears falling at their feet--but they had been used to tears o' blood, and her wretchedness moved them not. All that they could say to her was that their superior officer was not present, and, with the evidence which they had to submit before him, they could not revoke the sentence they had pa.s.sed.

On the third day, the chief officer o' the party arrived. All that had been proved against the prisoner was told to him, and the papers that had been concealed about him were placed before him. He was about to p.r.o.nounce the words, "He shall surely die," when, pausing, he commanded that the prisoner should be brought before him.

The doomed one was accordingly ushered into his presence. When the officer beheld him approach, he started up.

"Can it be possible?" he exclaimed--"Mr Stuart?" and gasped as he spoke.

The prisoner also started at hearing his true name, and raising his head said, "It is possible! Alexander c.o.c.kburn, I am your prisoner--_It is your turn now_!"