The Scots besieging Newcastle—The Fight on the Walls.
The smaller force, under the Douglas, broke up from Jedworth, and set forward in high spirits, cheered by the good countenance and presence of their renowned commander. Their parting shouts were re-echoed from the sides of the surrounding hills, and were replied to with yet louder bursts of acclamation by the large army of which they had been so lately a portion. Their route lay through the wilderness of the forest which at that time covered the country, and they soon lost even the cheers of their departing comrades, that, mellowing by degrees, at last died away among the hollow valleys. On entering Northumberland, [[416]]the Earl of Douglas allowed little time for pillaging the country, but stretched forward with the utmost expedition, so that he might carry on the war directly into the heart of the Bishoprick of Durham, before his movements could be made known to the Earl of Northumberland, who was at Alnwick, or to his two sons, who were at that moment patiently waiting at Newcastle, with the other English lords, for the return of their spy.
The Douglas was by no means one who could endure to make a mere empty show of invasion, for the purpose of creating a diversion that might smooth the way of his politic brother-in-law the Earl of Fife. His force was small indeed, but he resolved that it should do England as much harm as he could effect with it. Passing the River Tyne, therefore, at some distance above Newcastle, he spread his troops over the fair County of Durham, and began taking an awful, nay, a tenfold revenge, for the miseries which the Merse had so lately endured, at the hands of the English, by carrying devastation far and wide.
The news that the Scots were abroad at last reached Newcastle and Durham, and their numbers being exaggerated, these towns were filled with great consternation. They now learned the tale, indeed, from the evidence of their senses, for the smoke of the continued conflagration, creeping heavily over the country, and, carrying the smell of combustion along with it, poisoned the very air of both these places. Having reached the gates of Durham, the Douglas found them firmly closed against him; so, after skirmishing there for some days, he pushed on, destroying everything in his way, even to the very gates of York, and leaving no town unburnt that was not sufficiently walled to require a regular siege.
Having thus more than made good a chivalric vow with which he had started, that he should see Durham ere he returned, and having already ventured farther into a hostile country than his small force warranted, he returned towards Newcastle, industriously perfecting any destruction that he had before left unfinished; and having re-crossed the Tyne, at the same spot where he had passed it in his way southwards, he set himself down before the town on the side lying towards Scotland. The place was strongly garrisoned, and contained the flower of the chivalry of the counties of York, Durham, and Northumberland; for as soon as it was fully known that the Scots were abroad, and that they had already passed onwards into Yorkshire, a general rising of the country took place, under the influence of Harry Piersie, lately appointed Keeper of the Northumbrian Marches; and orders were even despatched [[417]]to the governors of Berwick, Norham, and the other fortresses now in rear of the enemy, to join the general muster with what force they could spare without too much weakening their garrisons.
Sir Rafe Piersie had long ceased to think of Eleanore de Selby. His passion was like the summer-storm, violent in character, but short in duration. His father, the haughty old Earl of Northumberland, had heard of it, and had signified his unqualified displeasure that his son should have even thought of a marriage with the daughter of a mere soldier; while his elder brother, the lively and peppery Hotspur, had laughed and railed at him till he became tired of the very name of De Selby. Part of this feeling arose from an honourable cause. His conscience told him that he had permitted his violent temper to make him forget what was due to the courtesy of knighthood, and he now so deeply repented him of his conduct at Norham, where he had so grossly insulted his host, that the scene never occurred to his mind without bringing the blush of shame to his cheek. He longed for an opportunity, where, without debasing himself, he might prove these feelings to Sir Walter; and the issuing of the order for the Border Captains to appear at Newcastle being the first that presented itself, he immediately availed himself of it.
“Brother,” said he to Hotspur, “as for Sir Matthew Redman of Berwick, he is a stout and able Captain, and in his own person a powerful aid. But what wouldst thou, I pray thee, with bringing the old Captain of Norham so far from home?”
“Dost thou fear to meet him, Rafe?” cried Hotspur, with a sarcastic smile; “or wouldst thou rather that I should send for his dark-eyed daughter hither?”
“Nay, nay, brother,” replied Sir Rafe; “but methinks he is of years somewhat beyond the battle-field.”
“Thou mayest do with him as thou listest, brother Rafe,” replied Hotspur, who was too busy to waste time on such a matter; “but we must have his men.”