“Yea, Sir Matthew,” replied Lindsay, “I have full faith in thine honour; but I believe there may now be little need that thou shouldst journey so far, or make to me any fynaunce; for no sooner hadst thou parted from me than I did fall into the hands of His Grace the Lord Bishop of Durham, who hath brought me hither as his prisoner; and if ye be so content, I do rather think we shall make an exchange, one for the other, if it may so please the Bishop.”
“God wot how gladly I shall do so,” replied Redman, shaking him cordially by the hand; “but, by my troth, thou shalt not go hence until thou hast partaken of my hospitality; so thou shalt dine with me to-day, yea, and to-morrow alswa; and then we shall talk anon with the Bishop, after which thou shalt have good safe-conduct for Scotland; nay, I shall myself be thy guard over the Marches, yea, and moreover, give thee hearty cheer in mine own good town of Berwick as thou dost pass thither.”
CHAPTER LX.
The Bishop’s Army—Sorrow for the Fate of the Heroic Douglas.
The two brothers, the Earls of Dunbar and Moray, were now [[460]]left to command the Scottish army after the afflicting death of the Earl of Douglas. Deeply as they grieved for him, they had but little leisure for mourning, since every succeeding moment brought them in harassing rumours that the Bishop of Durham was coming against them with a great army. During the whole of the day succeeding the battle, and of the night which followed it, they were so kept on the alert that they could even do but little to succour the wounded or bury the dead. The prisoners, however, among whom were many renowned knights, besides the two Piersies, were treated with all that chivalric courtesy and hospitality for which the age was so remarkable. Sir Rafe was immediately despatched in a litter to Alnwick, that he might have the benefit of such careful treatment as might be most likely to cure the many and severe wounds he had received.
After various false alarms, the second morning after the battle brought back the scouts, who had been sent to follow the flying enemy, and to gather what intelligence they might in the neighbourhood of Newcastle. By these men they were informed of the proclamation which had been made in the town, and of the proposed march of the Bishop of Durham’s large army. A council of war was immediately held, and the opinion was unanimous that they should remain where they were to receive the Bishop in their present position, which they had already proved to be so favourable for successful defence against superior numbers, rather than march harassed as they were with a number of wounded and prisoners, and with the risk of being overtaken in unfavourable ground. They accordingly hastened to strengthen themselves in the best way they could; and, as they had but little time for a choice of plans, they piled up an abattis, formed of the dead bodies of the slain, on the top of the broken rampart that stretched across between the flanking marches, and defended the entrance to their position.
Before the enemy appeared, a very serious question arose for the consideration of the leaders. Their prisoners amounted to above a thousand, and what was to be done with them? To have put them to death would have been so barbarous that such an idea could not be entertained for a moment in such times; yet, as their number was nearly equal to half their little army, the danger they ran from their breaking loose upon them during the fight, and even turning the tide of battle against them, was sufficiently apparent to every one. At length, after much debate and deliberation, it was generally resolved to trust them. They were accordingly drawn up in the centre of the camp, and an [[461]]oath administered to them that they should not stir from the spot during the ensuing battle, and that, be the result what it might, they should still consider themselves as prisoners to Scotland. After this solemnity, they left them slenderly guarded by some of the varlets and wainmen, with perfect confidence that they would keep their oath.
Then it was that the Earl of Dunbar thus encouraged his soldiers, after having drawn them up behind their lines.
“My brave Scots,” said he, “ye who have hardly yet well breathed sith that ye did conquer the renowned Piersies of Northumberland, can have little fear, I trow, to encounter a mitred priest. Verily, though his host be great, it will be but two strokes when both shepherd and sheep will be dispersed, and we shall teach this pastoral knight that it were better for him to be a scourger of schoolboy urchins with birchen rods than to essay thus, with the sword, to do battle against bearded soldiers.”