"Nay, I will certainly stand with thee in battle," said the friar; "thinkest thou I will stand and be a looker on, when my preserver is in jeopardy? Lo, my heart is as thy heart, my arm as thy arm, and—but I cannot say my horse is as thy horse, for the beast is indeed froward in his ways, and perverse in all his doings."
Charlie hardly smiled at the phrase of the worthy friar,—for he meditated an attack on their pursuers, and his eye kindled with his heart toward the battle. He heaved up his sword-arm twice at its full stretch, to feel if it was nowise encumbered in the armour, and putting Corby in motion, he rode deliberately up to the face of his enemies. The foremost man spoke to him, demanding what he wanted; but he only answered by heaving his sword a little higher, and making his horse mend his pace. In one second after that he was engaged with the first man, and in two seconds the horse and his rider had fallen in the middle of the path. Charlie listed not coming to close quarter; his sword was so long and heavy, that it was quite unhandy in warding the blows of a short and light weapon. His aim, therefore, was always to get the first stroke, which was as apt to light on the horse as the man, and thus down both of them went. Springing by the prostrate warrior, he attacked the second and the third in the same manner, and with the same success, always either cutting down the trooper or cleaving the head of his horse at the first stroke. The path was now in the utmost confusion. Owing to the pause that had taken place, all the riders had come up and crowded each other behind, some crying, "He is a devil!" and others at a greater distance shouting out, "Down with the Scot! down with him!" Charlie regarded not their cries, but laid about him with all his might, till, after striking down three of the foremost and one horse, those next to him were glad to turn in order to effect their escape; but the hindermost on the path refusing for a while to give way, many of their friends fell a sacrifice to Charlie's wrath. He pursued them for a space, and might have cut them off every man, had he been sure that all was safe behind,—but he had rushed by some wounded men and wounded horses, and knew not how matters stood with the friar.
As he dreaded, so it fell out. Two of the Englishmen who had fallen perhaps under their horses, had scrambled up the bosky precipice, and, as he returned, assailed him with large stones, a mode of attack against which he was unable to make the least resistance. Therefore, it was at the utmost peril of his life that he made his way back through the encumbered path to his friend the friar. This latter worthy had found it impossible to lend his friend any assistance. The beast that he bestrode was fonder of rubbing shoulders with a living brute, than a mangled or dead one; so he refused to come nearer the first that fell than about twice his own length, where he stood firm, turning his tail to the scene of battle, and looking back. Our two heroes now set off at full speed after the rest of their party, whom they expected to overtake before reaching the outposts of the beleaguering army.
CHAPTER XII.
Lord Duffus.—I saw the appearance of a mounted warrior.
Whence did it come, or whither did it go?
Or whom did it seek here?
Hush thee, my lord;
The apparition spoke not, but passed on.
'Tis something dreadful; and, I fear me much,
Betokens evil to this fair array.
The rest of our cavalcade continued to advance at a quick pace, not without anxiety. They were not afraid of their enemies coming behind them, for they had strong faith in the prowess of their friend, as well as his horse Corby. But when they came to the end of the narrow path, called the Thief-gate, there were two roads, and they knew not which of these to follow. As bad luck would have it, they took the most easterly, which led towards Yetholm, and left the Scottish army to the westward. In that path they continued to jog on, turning many a long look behind them for the approach of Charlie; and, at one time, they thought they got a view of him coming at a furious pace all alone; but the rider being at a great space behind them, he was shortly hid from their view in an intervening hollow, and it was long before they saw him any more. They judged that the friar was taken or slain, and began to talk of his loss in a very indifferent manner.
"Alas, how frigid and ungenial must be the hearts of you men in Scotland," said Delany. "Now, of all the men I have met with since I was brought from my own country, there is only one whose death I would more regret than that of the worthy and kind friar. He may have his whims and his peculiarities, but his manner is pleasing, and his speech has a strain of grandeur which I love. Where did he acquire that speech?"
"He gets it frae some auld-fashioned beuk," said Tam, "that he has pored on a' his days, an' translatit out o' other tongues, till he was nearly hanged for it; and it's weel kend that he is now in hiding wi' our warden for fear o' his life, and has been these half dozen o' years; and though he pretends to be only a friar, he was aince a monk o' the first order of St Benedict, and president of a grand college in France."
"I would like to converse with him," said Delany, "for I have always thought that he feigned to be something a degree lower than he is."