“’Tis dark as a sightless pit,” cried some of them.
“Yea,” cried the Earl of Douglas; “but dost thou see those lights that hurry about yonder? Trust me, there is some stirring cause for the quickness of their motions.”
“Hark ye, I hear distant and repeated cries,” said the Earl of Dunbar. “Hark, a horse comes galloping up the hill. Hear ye how he snorts and blows? I’ll warrant the rider hath hot news to tell.”
“The English!—the English in the baggage-camp!—Piersie and the English!” cried the rough voice of a wainman, who made towards the light in the pavilion, mounted on a bare-backed and unharnessed wain-horse, that heaved its great sides as if it would have burst them.
“Arm, arm, chevaliers,” cried the Douglas in a voice like thunder; “arm ye in haste, and turn out your brave bands without a moment’s let. Mine arms—mine arms, my faithful esquires. My horse, my horse!” [[448]]
All was now hurry, bustle, and jostling; cries, orders, oaths, and execrations arose everywhere. Horses were neighing, and steel was clashing, and every one tried to buckle on his armour as fast as he could. Meanwhile Douglas, with Moray near him, stood calm and undismayed, putting one question after another rapidly to the varlet who brought the alarm, until he had gained all the information he could expect from him.
“By the Rood, but thy new esquire Rory Spears hath well demeaned himself, brother Moray,” said Douglas. “He and those with him have done that the which shall much avail us if we but bestir ourselves. Let us arm then, and get the line formed. I did well mark the ground, my friend. By skirting the woods upon our right, and if the moon will but keep below the hill-tops long enow, we shall steal down unseen upon the enemy, and pour out our vengeance on his defenceless flank. May St. Andrew grant that thy gallant squire may but keep his own until then. Haste, haste, Glendinning. Where is Robert Hop Pringle, my brave shield-bearer? Haste thee, Hart, mine arms and my horse. Ha, Archibald,” cried he to a young man of noble carriage who was passing him at the moment; “get thee my standard, my son; thou shalt bear my jamais arriere to-night. Part with it not for thy life; and bastard though thou be’st, show thyself at least to be no counterfeit Douglas. Quit it not even in death, boy.”
From time to time the shouts of the combatants now came faintly up the hill-side, and hurried those hands that were busily engaged in arming, so that many a buckle was put awry, and many a tag was left to hang loose. The Douglas staid not to complete his harnessing, but sprang into his saddle ere he was half armed, while Lord Moray rode away to his post without discovering that he had forgotten to put his helmet on.
The night still continued extremely dark, and had not Lord Douglas taken accurate note of the ground below him whilst the light of the sun had shone upon it, he must have found it almost impracticable to have led his men on, notwithstanding that his ears were admonished by the din of the distant skirmish, and the discordant braying of at least five hundred bullocks’ horns, blown by the varlets and wainmen who were not engaged; for such were in those days always carried by the Scottish soldiers, and Rory Spears had taken care that all who could not fight should at least blow, that the extent of their force might appear the greater to the enemy.
The Douglas conducted his little army with great silence and circumspection through the skirting brushwood; and it so [[449]]happened, that just as he approached the place of action, the full-orbed moon arose to run her peaceful and majestic course through a clear and cloudless sky, throwing a mimic day over the scene. Loud shouts arose from the powerful army of the English, for now they began to comprehend the actual situation of their affairs; and making one bold and determined charge, they burst at once through the whole breadth of the entrenchments, overwhelming all who attempted to stand before them. Now it was that the Scottish Earl gave the word to his men, and just as the English were pushing rapidly on towards the slope of the high ground where the Scottish camp hung glittering in the moonbeam, driving a handful of brave men before them, who were still fighting as they retired, the shout of “Douglas!—Douglas!—Scotland!—Scotland!—Douglas!—Jamais arriere?” ascended to Heaven, and the determined Scots poured from their covert out upon the open plain, and rushed against the troops of Piersie.