John Burnet of Barns: A Romance

by John Buchan

Meanwhile both the forces had taken up their position opposing one another, and such a babel of tinkler yells arose that I was deafened. Each side had their war-cry, and, in addition, the women and children screamed the most horrible curses and insults against the enemy. Yet the battle was not arrayed in haphazard fashion, but rather with some show of military skill. The stronger and bigger men of the clan with the captain himself were in the middle. On the right and left were their sons, with a more mixed force, and below all the women were drawn up like harpies, looking well-nigh as fierce and formidable as the men.

"You'll come to the front wi' me, Maister Burnet," said the captain. "Ye're a guid man o' your hands and we'll need a' we can get i' the middle."

"No," said I, "I cannot."

"Why?" he asked, looking at me darkly.

"Tut, this is mere foolery. You would not have me meddling in such a fray?"

"You think we're no worthy for you to fecht wi'," he said, quietly, "we, that are as guid as the best gentlemen i' the land, and have saved your life for ye, Master John Burnet. Weel, let it be. I didna think ye wad hae dune it." Then the tinker blood came out. "Maybe you're feared," said he, with an ugly smile.

I turned away and made no answer; indeed, I could trust myself to make none. I was bitterly angry and unhappy. All my misfortunes had drawn to a point in that moment. I had lost everything. A fatal mischance seemed to pursue me. Now I had mortally offended the man who had saved my life, and my outlook was drear enough.

I had been looking the other way for a second, and when I turned again the fray had begun. The Earl, with a cutlass, had engaged the captain, and the wings, if one may call them by so fine a word, had met and mingled in confusion. But still it was not a general mellay, but rather a duel between the two principal combatants. The little man with the short sword showed wondrous agility, and leaped and twisted like a tumbler at a fair. As for the Baillie, he had naught to do but keep him at a distance, for he was both better armed and better skilled. As he fought he let his eye wander to the others and directed them with his voice. "Come up, Mathy lad," he would cry. "Stand weel into them, and dinna fear the lasses." Then as he saw one of his own side creeping behind the Earl to strike a back blow, he roared with anger and bade him keep off. "Let the man be," he cried. "Is't no eneuch to hae to fecht wi' blaggards that ye maun be blaggards yoursel'?"

But in a little the crowd closed round them and they had less room for play. Then began a grim and deadly fight. The townspeople, at the word of the tinkers fighting, had left the fair and come out in a crowd to witness it. It was a sight such as scarce a man may see twice in his lifetime. The mist rolled low and thick, and in the dim light the wild, dark faces and whirling weapons seemed almost monstrous. Now that the death had begun there was little shouting; nothing was heard save the rattle of the cutlasses, and a sort of sighing as blows were given and received. The bolder of the women and boys had taken their place, and at the back the little children and young girls looked on with the strangest composure. I grew wild with excitement, and could scarce keep from yelling my encouragements or my warnings; but these had no thought of uttering a word. Had there been a cloud of smoke or smell of powder it would have seemed decent, but this quietness and clearness jarred on me terribly. Moreover, the weapons they fought with were rude, but powerful to inflict deep wounds, being all clubs and short swords and scythe-blades fixed on poles. Soon I saw ghastly cuts on the faces of the foremost and blood-splashes on brow and cheek. Had there been horses it would not have seemed so cruel, for there would have been the rush and trample, the hot excitement of the charge and the recoil. But in the quiet, fierce conflict on foot there seemed nothing but murder and horror.

At first the battle was fought in a little space, and both sides stood compact. But soon it widened, and the wings straggled out almost to the edge of the bog-water. The timid onlookers fled as from the plague, and I, in my station in the back, was in doubts whether I should bide still or no. But in front of me were the girls and children, and I thought if I could do naught else I might bide still and see to them. For the horns of the Ruthven's company (which was far the larger) threatened to enclose the Baillies, and cut off their retreat. Meantime the mist had come down still closer and had given that decent covering which one desires in a bloody fray. I could scarce see the front ranks of our opponents, and all I could make out of my friends was the captain's bright sword glinting as he raised it to the cut.