He thought of the lady in the grey-blue hood, and laughed again. He knew now why he had lied to the pursuer. They were night-riders, like himself, she and her groom; they had chosen the honest open, with peril riding hard behind them. And, till he died, his sympathy would ever go out now to those who took the dangerous tracks.
CHAPTER XX
THE GLORY OF IT
The Prince stayed in Glasgow with his army until the New Year was two days in. And this was fortunate for Rupert, because it enabled him to bring in his dispatches—after many a change of horses by the way—in time to share the pleasant victory of Falkirk later on.
And Falkirk Battle, like Prestonpans at the beginning of this wild campaign, showed the Prince quick in strategy beforehand, hot when the fight was dinning round his ears. By sheer speed of generalship he got his army to the rising ground which gave him the advantage, outwitting General Hawley, who led the Hanoverian army. And then news was brought—by Rupert, as it chanced—that Hawley could not get his cannon up within firing distance, because the bogland was so sodden that the wheels were axle-deep in mire. And so then the Prince, against Lord Murray’s text-book warnings and advice, ordered a sharp attack. They had the advantage of the hill; but the Prince, knowing the temper of his Highlanders, chose to abandon that for the gain of instant action. He was justified. His men were like dogs kept too long upon the chain, savage for assault; and, when he led them down the hill, straight on to the astonished enemy—busy still with the foundered gun-carriages—the roar and speed of the attack swept all before it.
The fight was quick and bloody, till gloaming ended it. The odds were three to two against the Prince; yet when the day’s business was accomplished, there were six hundred killed of Hawley’s army, and many wounded asking for the succour which the Stuart gave by habit, and much artillery and ammunition captured.
It was in these days that Rupert found recompense for the way for once, had faced the opposing odds with the practical, quiet courage, the eager hope, that are seldom blended to a nicety in a man’s soul.
And while they rested after the battle, news came in that General Hawley’s army had been increased by three thousand troops sent by forced marches from Northumberland. Lord Murray’s arithmetic again took panic; the Prince’s zeal caught fire; and once more, in this bloodless battle of the council-chamber, it was the Scots prudence that won the day.
The Prince’s army moved north, in retreat when advance was their master-card to play. And again the Highland pipers played sorrow round the hills, as if a mist came down. And Rupert found his strength come supple to him, like a well-tried sword, because in the years behind he, too, had known retreat.