Quhyle they of bernis made briggis;
The reird rais rudelie with the rappis,
Quhen rungis were layd on riggis,
The wyffis cam furth with cryis and clappis,
‘Lo! quhair my lyking liggis,’
Quo they;
At Christis Kirk on the Grene that day.—King James I.
Basil was dreaming about Mary Leslie when he was awakened by the dreadful note of preparation. The bugles were sounding, men and horses hurrying to and fro, and a body of Cameronians—or “hill-fouk”—had formed themselves into a conventicle beside his tent, and were listening with the greatest attention to a favourite preacher. When he came out, the scene was beyond measure animating. There was no trace of the late storm, and the little birds sang their accustomed songs. All was bustle, both in the camp of the Covenanters and that of the royalists. The latter were repairing the fortifications of the bridge, which had suffered in the last night’s attack. The royalists were already under arms, but Montrose had no design of attacking them, till the ebbing of the tide should render the lower fords passable in case he should be unable to force the bridge. The Covenanters remained idle during the forenoon, while the royalists stood in order of battle, uncertain as to the time of attack.
About two in the afternoon, the shrill sound of a bugle collected the Covenanters to their standards; and Aboyne’s sentinels, who till now had kept on the south bank of the river, fell back to the main body. Our hero was ordered by Montrose to lead a body of horsemen to the lower ford, to remain there till informed of the bridge’s being taken, when he was to push to the town and guard Aboyne’s house from being plundered, and seize on all papers that might be found in it. He departed accordingly.
Aboyne, being aware that Montrose’s intention was to storm the bridge, drew all his forces to its defence. In a valley, at a small distance from the bridge, Montrose stationed the flower of his army, and, with the rest, including the waggoners and other followers of the camp, to make a more formidable appearance, made a feint as if he intended to ford the river above the bridge. This stratagem succeeded, for Aboyne instantly withdrew the greater part of his forces to oppose them, and thus left the most important station almost at the mercy of the enemy. The ambuscade rose immediately, and advanced even to the cannons’ mouths. The artillery, however, of that period, was not so formidable as it is now. It was ill-served, ill-directed, and did little execution. A brisk engagement took place at the bridge, which, however, was maintained but a few minutes; for the Covenanters, clearing the bridge of its defenders, and quickly removing the barricades, opened to the right and left a path for their cavalry, who drove the citizens off the field with considerable loss. Aboyne returned quickly with his men to assist the citizens, but their courage was now damped with their loss; so that, by the first charge of the Covenanters, their ranks were broken, and they began to fly in every direction. It was no longer a battle but a rout. The Covenanters hewed down without mercy their flying enemies; and, so exasperated were they at their obstinate fickleness in former times, that the more merciful among them were hardly able to obtain quarter for those who confessed themselves vanquished. Aboyne, with great exertion, having rallied one hundred horse, made for the town, determined if possible to defend it. Montrose dispatched a party after him, and both, plunging their rowels into their horses’ sides, dashed forward over friends and enemies indiscriminately, and arrived close at each other’s heels in the town. There was no possibility of shutting the gates; so both entered by St Nicholas Fort at the same instant. The intention of Aboyne was thus frustrated, and he found it not an easy matter to escape with his followers by the Gallowgate Port.