The bereaved mother turned to retrace her steps towards her now solitary home. We called after her to come in and stop a while. "I can neither gie nor tak comfort," said she, "and I would fain grieve in my ain hame."
Our own hearts were sore too, as any one may judge, seeing that all our loved ones who could bear the sword were away to face danger and death. But sorer yet would they have been if we could have foreseen the disastrous defeat of our army at Bothwell Bridge, a defeat chargeable in no small degree to the dissensions that nearly rent our people asunder.
Oh, that dreadful day! Even now the memory of it comes unbidden far oftener than the morning sun salutes the earth. My brother Jamie, my poor, sad mother's firstborn, was left on that fatal field cold in death—Jamie, the husband of the good, brave, patient Margaret, and father of six bonnie bairns. Oh, what a stroke was that! Then when we called to mind how many fathers, sons, and brothers, of the very flower of Scotland, shared a like fate, we cried out in bitterness of soul,
"O Lord God, to whom vengeance belongeth; O God, to whom vengeance belongeth, show thyself. Lift up thyself, thou Judge of the earth: render a reward to the proud. Lord, how long shall the wicked, how long shall the wicked triumph?"
But I have more to tell of that terrible battle. Richie was one of the twelve hundred who, when all was lost, threw down their arms and cried for quarter. They were taken prisoners to Edinburgh, and penned, half naked, in the same Grayfriars kirkyard in which the Covenant was signed in 1638. They were herded there for five months like so many brute beasts, without shelter by day or covering by night. At the end of that time, Richie and many others regained their freedom by signing a bond never again to take up arms against the king.
Steenie was thrice taken prisoner, and as many times made his escape. Just as he was leaving the field he stumbled over the dead body of Jamie. In regaining his feet his eye caught sight of the dear, familiar face, then rigid in death. Regardless of consequence he threw himself down beside his lifeless brother. Two soldiers rode that way in search of flying fugitives. Seeing a living man among the dead, they halted. Struck with the grief and affection that could lead to such a disregard of personal safety, some touch of humanity returned to their stony hearts.
"What hinders us to run you through, man?"
"It is all one to me," replied Steenie. "My brother is dead, and our cause is lost."
"Let us show pity to our fellow-mortal," said one to the other, "and when death comes to us, I warrant we shall not grieve at the mercy."
"Rise and take to your heels," said the first speaker, "and hide yourself as soon as you can. If your escape is seen it may cost us our lives."