|
|
-
-
THE
WEIRD OF THE THREE ARROWS
Sir James Douglas, the companion of
Bruce, and well
known by his appellation of the “Black Douglas,”
was once,
during the hottest period of the exterminating war carried on by him
and his colleague Randolph, against the English, stationed at
Linthaughlee, near Jedburgh. He was resting, himself and his
men
after the toils of many days’ fighting-marches through
Teviotdale; and, according to his custom, had walked round the tents,
previous to retiring to the unquiet rest of a soldier’s
bed. He stood for a few minutes at the entrance to his tent
contemplating the scene before him, rendered more interesting by a
clear moon, whose silver beams fell, in the silence of a night without
a breath of wind, calmly on the slumbers of mortals destined to mix in
the melée of dreadful war, perhaps on the morrow.
As he
stood gazing, irresolute whether to retire to rest or indulge longer in
a train of thought not very suitable to a warrior who delighted in the
spirit-stirring scenes of his profession, his eye was attracted by the
figure of an old woman, who approached p. 47him with a trembling step,
leaning on a staff, and holding in her left hand three English
cloth-shaft arrows.
“You are he who is ca’ed the guid Sir
James?” said the old woman.
“I am, good woman,” replied Sir James.
“Why hast thou wandered from the sutler’s
camp?”
“I dinna belang to the camp o’ the
hoblers,” answered
the woman. “I hae been a residenter in Linthaughlee
since
the day when King Alexander passed the door o’ my cottage
wi’ his bonny French bride, wha was terrified awa’
frae
Jedburgh by the death’s-head whilk appeared to her on the day
o’ her marriage. What I hae suffered sin’
that
day” (looking at the arrows in her hand) “lies
between me
an’ heaven.”
“Some of your sons have been killed in the wars, I
presume?” said Sir James.
“Ye hae guessed a pairt o’ my waes,”
replied the
woman. “That arrow” (holding out one of
the three)
“carries on its point the bluid o’ my first born;
that is
stained wi’ the stream that poured frae the heart
o’ my
second; and that is red wi’ the gore in which my youngest
weltered, as he gae up the life that made me childless. They
were
a’ shot by English hands, in different armies, in different
battles. I am an honest woman, and wish to return to the
English
what belongs to the English; but that in the same fashion in which they
were sent. p. 48The Black Douglas has the strongest arm
an’
the surest ee in auld Scotland; an’ wha can execute my
commission
better than he?”
“I do not use the bow, good woman,” replied Sir
James. “I love the grasp of the dagger or the
battle-axe. You must apply to some other individual to return
your arrows.”
“I canna tak’ them hame again,” said the
woman,
laying them down at the feet of Sir James.
“Ye’ll see
me again on St. James’ E’en.”
The old woman departed as she said these words.
Sir James took up the arrows, and placed them in an empty quiver that
lay amongst his baggage. He retired to rest, but not to
sleep. The figure of the old woman and her strange request
occupied his thoughts, and produced trains of meditation which ended in
nothing but restlessness and disquietude. Getting up at
daybreak,
he met a messenger at the entrance of his tent, who informed him that
Sir Thomas de Richmont, with a force of ten thousand men, had crossed
the Borders, and would pass through a narrow defile, which he
mentioned, where he could be attacked with great advantage.
Sir
James gave instant orders to march to the spot; and, with that genius
for scheming, for which he was so remarkable, commanded his men to
twist together the young birch-trees on either side of the passage to
prevent the escape of the enemy. This finished, he concealed
his
archers in a hollow way, near the gorge of the pass.
p. 49The enemy came on; and when their ranks were embarrassed by the
narrowness of the road, and it was impossible for the cavalry to act
with effect, Sir James rushed upon them at the head of his horsemen;
and the archers, suddenly discovering themselves, poured in a flight of
arrows on the confused soldiers, and put the whole army to
flight. In the heat of the onset, Douglas killed Sir Thomas
de
Richmont with his dagger.
Not long after this, Edmund de Cailon, a knight of Gascony, and
Governor of Berwick, who had been heard to vaunt that he had sought the
famous Black Knight, but could not find him, was returning to England,
loaded with plunder, the fruit of an inroad on Teviotdale.
Sir
James thought it a pity that a Gascon’s vaunt should be heard
unpunished in Scotland, and made long forced marches to satisfy the
desire of the foreign knight, by giving him a sight of the dark
countenance he had made a subject of reproach. He soon
succeeded
in gratifying both himself and the Gascon. Coming up in his
terrible manner, he called to Cailon to stop, and, before he proceeded
into England, receive the respects of the Black Knight he had come to
find, but hitherto had not met. The Gascon’s vaunt
was now
changed; but shame supplied the place of courage, and he ordered his
men to receive Douglas’s attack. Sir James
assiduously
sought his enemy. He at last succeeded; and a single combat
ensued, p. 50of a most desperate character. But who ever
escaped
the arm of Douglas when fairly opposed to him in single
conflict?
Cailon was killed; he had met the Black Knight at last.
“So much,” cried Sir James, “for the
vaunt of a Gascon!”
Similar in every respect to the fate of Cailon, was that of Sir Ralph
Neville. He, too, on hearing the great fame of
Douglas’s
prowess, from some of Gallon’s fugitive soldiers, openly
boasted
that he would fight with the Scottish Knight, if he would come and show
his banner before Berwick. Sir James heard the boast and
rejoiced
in it. He marched to that town, and caused his men to ravage
the
country in front of the battlements, and burn the villages.
Neville left Berwick with a strong body of men; and, stationing himself
on a high ground, waited till the rest of the Scots should disperse to
plunder; but Douglas called in his detachment and attacked the
knight. After a desperate conflict, in which many were slain,
Douglas, as was his custom, succeeded in bringing the leader to a
personal encounter, and the skill of the Scottish knight was again
successful. Neville was slain, and his men utterly
discomfited.
Having retired one night to his tent to take some rest after so much
pain and toil, Sir James Douglas was surprised by the reappearance of
the old woman whom he had seen at Linthaughlee.
p. 51“This is the feast o’ St. James,”
said she, as
she approached him. “I said I would see ye again
this
nicht, an’ I’m as guid’s my
word. Hae ye
returned the arrows I left wi’ ye to the English wha sent
them to
the hearts o’ my sons?”
“No,” replied Sir James. “I
told ye I did not
fight with the bow. Wherefore do ye importune me
thus?”
“Give me back the arrows then,” said the woman.
Sir James went to bring the quiver in which he had placed
them.
On taking them out, he was surprised to find that they were all broken
through the middle.
“How has this happened?” said he.
“I put these
arrows in this quiver entire, and now they are broken.”
“The weird is fulfilled!” cried the old woman,
laughing
eldrichly, and clapping her hands. “That broken
shaft
cam’ frae a soldier o’ Richmont’s; that
frae ane
o’ Cailon’s, and that frae ane o’
Neville’s. They are a’ dead,
an’ I am
revenged!”
The old woman then departed, scattering, as she went, the broken
fragments of the arrows on the floor of the tent.
-
- |
|
