These forays, it must be admitted, were sometimes conducted in the most relentless and cruel spirit. We read, for example, of one “Sowerby,” near Coldbeck, having his house broken into, and himself most cruelly used. “They set him on his bare buttocks upon an hote iron, and then they burned him with an hote girdle about his bellie, and sundry other parts of his body, to make him give up his money, which they took, under £4.”[29]
Some of the most interesting episodes in Border history were not the outcome of any deep laid scheme, but the result of some sudden and unexpected emergency. It was difficult for the inhabitants of the opposite Marches to come into close contact without the greatest danger of an outbreak of hostilities. Individual families were often on friendly terms, and were ready even to assist each other on occasion. The Scots sometimes brought the English to help them to rob those who lived in their own neighbourhood; and the English, on the other hand, were equally ready to avail themselves of the assistance of those on the opposite Border when they had a similar object in view. But when they came together in their hundreds or thousands, as they sometimes did on a “Day of Truce,” then it was a matter of supreme difficulty to keep them from flying at each other’s throats. Feeling ran high, and a word, a look, was sometimes sufficient to change an otherwise peaceful meeting into one of turmoil and bloodshed.
One notable instance of this kind is known as the “Raid of the Reidswire.” Sir John Foster, the English warden, and Sir John Carmichael, the warden on the opposite March, had a meeting for the regulation of Border affairs, on the 7th July, 1575. Each warden was attended by his retinue, and by the armed clans inhabiting the district. As the balladist describes it:
“Carmichael was our warden then,
He caused the country to convene;
And the Laird’s Wat, that worthy man,
Brought in that sirname weil beseen:
The Armestranges, that aye ha’e been
A hardy house, but not a hail,
The Elliots’ honours to maintaine,
Brought down the lave o’ Liddisdale.
“Then Tividale came to wi’ spied;
The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down,
Wi’ Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need,
Baith Rewle water and Hawick town,
Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun,
Wi’ a’ the Trumbills, strong and stout;
The Rutherfoords with grit renown,
Convoy’d the town of Jedbrugh out.”
The two parties had apparently met on the best of terms. Mirth and good fellowship prevailed. The pedlars erected their temporary booths, and sold their wares. The gathering presented the appearance of a rural fair. No one could have suspected that so much bad feeling was hidden under such a fair exterior, and ready to burst forth in a moment with volcanic fury. Yet such was the case. A dispute arose betwixt the two wardens about one Farnsteen, a notorious English freebooter, against whom a bill had been “filed” by a Scottish complainer. Foster declared that he had fled from justice, and could not be found. Carmichael regarded this statement as a pretext to avoid making compensation for the felony. He bade Foster “play fair.” The English warden was indignant. Raising himself in the saddle, and stretching his arm in the direction of Carmichael, he told him to match himself with his equals!
“Carmichael bade them speik out plainlie,
And cloke no cause for ill nor good;
The other, answering him as vainlie,
Began to reckon kin and blood:
He raise, and raxed him where he stood,
And bade him match with him his marrows;
Then Tindaill heard them reason rude,
And they loot off a flight of arrows.”
The cry was raised, “To it, Tynedale,” and immediately the merry meeting was turned into a Donnybrook fair, where hard blows were given and received. The Scots at first had the worst of the encounter, and would have been completely routed had it not been for two circumstances. The men of Tynedale, conscious of their superior strength, began to rifle the “merchant packs,” and thus fell into disorder. At this juncture a band of citizens of Jedburgh, armed with fire-arms, unexpectedly, but most opportunely, appeared on the scene, and in a short time the skirmish ended in a complete victory for the Scots. Sir John Heron was slain, and Sir John Foster and many other Englishmen of rank taken prisoner.
“But after they had turned backs,
Yet Tindaill men they turn’d again,
And had not been the merchant packs,
There had been mae of Scotland slain.
But, Jesu! if the folks were fain
To put the bussing on their thies;
And so they fled, wi’ a’ their main,
Down ower the brae, like clogged bees.”
The prisoners were sent to Dalkeith, where for a short time they were detained in custody by the Earl of Morton. He ultimately dismissed them with presents of falcons, which gave rise to a saying on the Borders that for once the Regent had lost by his bargain, as he had given live hawks for dead herons,—alluding to the death of Sir John Heron.
“Who did invent that day of play,
We need not fear to find him soon;
For Sir John Forster, I dare well say,
Made us this noisome afternoon.
Not that I speak preceislie out,
That he supposed it would be perril;
But pride, and breaking out of feuid
Garr’d Tindaill lads begin the quarrel.”