Chapter 7

Chapter XXVIIKinmont Willie"O have ye not heard of the false Sakelde,O have ye not heard of the keen Lord Scroope,How they have taken bold Kinmont WillieOn Haribee to hang him oop?"The story of this famous freebooter, William Armstrong of Kinmonth, belongs to the time of Queen Elizabeth, when Lord Scroope was Warden of the Western Marches, and Mr Sakelde of Corby Castle was his Deputy.Kinmont Willie was a descendant of the famous Johnie Armstrong of Gilnockie, and his capture was a violation of the existing truce between Scroope and Buccleuch, the Keeper of Liddesdale. Elizabeth was indignant at Buccleuch's action in rescuing Willie, and as the Scots at that time were very anxious not to offend her, Buccleuch was sent to England and came before the Queen, who asked him how he dared to undertake such an adventure. "What is it," answered he, "that a man dare not do?""With ten thousand such men," said Elizabeth, turning to a lord-in-waiting, "our brother of Scotland might shake the firmest throne of Europe."The ballad tells of the capture of Kinmont Willie, and how the false Sakelde and his men treacherously seized him.They bound his legs beneath his horse, and tied his hands behind his back, and with five men on each side to guard him, brought him over Liddel ford and through Carlisle sands to Carlisle castle.When he arrived there, Willie addressed his captor in these words:"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free. Who will avow this deed or answer for it to bold Buccleuch?""Hold thy tongue, thou rank robber! Never a Scot shall set thee free. Ye shall take farewell of me before ye cross my castle gate," said Scroope."Fear ye not that, my lord," answers Willie, "for by the faith of my body, never did I yet lodge in a hostelry but that I paid my reckoning before I went."Word was sent to Branksome Hall to the Keeper of Liddesdale that Lord Scroope had captured Kinmont Willie, whereupon the Keeper smote the table with his hand till the red wine sprang on high, "A curse on my head," he cried, "if I be not avenged of Lord Scroope. Is my helmet a widow's cap, or my lance a twig from a willow-tree, or my fist a lady's lily hand, that an English lord should appraise me so lightly? Have they taken Kinmont Willie in spite of the truce, and forgotten that the bold Buccleuch is Keeper on the Scottish side? Have they taken Kinmont Willie so fearlessly, and forgotten that the bold Buccleuch can back a steed and wield a weapon? Were there but war between the lands, then would I slight Carlisle Castle though it were built of marble; I would set it on fire and drench it with English blood. But since there is peace and not war, I'll set the Kinmont free yet never harm English lad or lass!"So Buccleuch called forty bold Marchmen, all of his own name and kin except one, Sir Gilbert Elliot, Laird of Stobs. They came spur on heel and armour on shoulder, with gloves of green and feathers of blue. Five and five came first with hunting-horns and bugles; five and five more came with Buccleuch like Warden's men arrayed for battle; five and five came like a gang of masons, carrying long high ladders; and five and five came like broken men, and so they reached Woodhouselee.When they had crossed to the English side, the first man they met was the false Sakelde."Where are ye going, ye keen hunters?" quoth Sakelde."We go to hunt an English stag that has trespassed on Scottish ground.""Where are ye going, ye martial men?""We go to catch a rank robber that has broken faith with the bold Buccleuch.""Where are ye going, ye mason lads, with all these long high ladders?""We go to harry a corbie's nest not far from here.""Where are ye going, ye broken men?" said false Sakelde.But Dickie of Dryhope, leader of the broken men, had never a word of learning, and answered nothing."Why trespass ye on the English side? Stand! ye raw-footed outlaws!"Never a word yet said Dickie, but for answer ran his lance clean through the body of the false Sakelde.On then they went to Carlisle town, crossing the Eden at Staneshaw-bank, nor lost they either horse or man, though the water was high in flood.When they reached Staneshaw-bank the wind was rising, and the Laird ordered them to leave there their horses for fear they should stamp and neigh. The wind blew loudly enough then, but when they came beneath the castle wall there was wind and rain and flying sleet. On they crept on their knees and held their breath till they placed the ladders against the wall. Buccleuch himself mounted first, took the watchman by the throat and flung him down upon the leads. "Thou hadst gone on the other side," said he, "had there not been peace between our lands."[image]The Escape of Kinmont Willie"Sound out the trumpets!" quoth he; "let's wake up Lord Scroope!" Then loud blew the Warden's trumpet to the tune of "O wha dare meddle wi' me?"To work they went speedily, and cut a hole through the lead, gaining thus the castle hall.Those inside thought the castle had been taken by King James and all his men, yet it was only twenty Scots and ten that had put a thousand in such a stir. They hammered and banged at the bars until they came to the inner prison, where lay Kinmont Willie."Do ye sleep or wake, Kinmont Willie, on the morn when ye shall die?""O I sleep lightly and wake often; it's long since sleep was frightened from me. Give my service to my wife and bairns and all good fellows that enquire after me."Red Rowan, the strongest man in Teviotdale, lifted him up. "Stay now, Red Rowan, till I take farewell of Lord Scroope. Farewell, farewell, my good Lord Scroope," he cried. "I will pay ye for my lodging when first we meet on the Border."With shout and cry Red Rowan bore him on his shoulders down the long ladder, the irons clanking at every stride."Many a time," said Kinmont Willie, "have I ridden a horse both wild and unruly, but never have my legs bestrode a rougher beast than Red Rowan. Many a time have I pricked a horse over the furrows, but never since I backed a steed have I worn such cumbrous spurs."Scarcely had they won the Staneshaw-bank when all the bells in Carlisle were ringing and Lord Scroope was after them with a thousand men on horse and on foot. But—"Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden waterEven where it flowed frae bank to brim,And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,And safely swam them through the stream.He turn'd him on the other side,And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he—'If ye like na my visit to merry England,In fair Scotland come visit me!'All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,He stood as still as rock of stane;He scarcely dared to trew[#] his eyes,When through the water they had gane.[#] Trust'He is either himsell a devil frae hell,Or else his mother a witch maun be;I wadna have ridden that wan water,For a' the gowd[#] in Christentie.'"[#] GoldChapter XXVIIIDick o' the Cow"Fair Johnie Armstrong to Willie did say'Billie, a-riding we will gae.'"The ballad of this name, a popular one in Liddesdale, relates, like that of Kinmont Willie, to the time when Lord Scroope was Warden of the West Marches and Governor of Carlisle. Dick o' the Cow seems to have been his fool or jester. Dickie, some years after the events described in the ballad, fell a victim to the vengeance of the Armstrongs.There had been no raids from Liddesdale for a considerable time, and no riding, and the horses had all grown so fat that they dare scarcely stir out of the stall. Then fair Johnie Armstrong said to his brother Willie, "Brother, we will go a-riding. We have long been at feud with England, and perhaps we shall find some spoil."So they rode to Hulton Hall and round about it, but the laird, a wise man, had left neither goods nor cattle outside to steal, except six sheep in a meadow. Said Johnie, "I'd rather die in England than take those six sheep to Liddesdale.""But who was that man we last met as we came over the hill?""Oh, he is an innocent fool, and men call him Dick o' the Cow.""That fool has three good cows of his own, as good as there are in Cumberland. Betide me life or death, they shall go to Liddesdale with me!"So they came to the house of the poor fool, broke down his thick wall, loosed his three cows, and took also three coverlets from his wife's bed.In the morning at daylight when the loss was discovered, there were loud lamentations. "Hold thy tongue, wife," said Dickie, "and stop thy crying. I'll bring thee back three cows for each one that thou hast lost."So Dickie went to Lord Scroope. "Hold thy tongue, fool," said Scroope. "I have no time for jesting.""A shame on your jesting, my lord!" said Dickie, "jesting agrees not with me. Liddesdale was in my house last night and has taken my three cows. I can no longer dwell in Cumberland as your poor faithful fool, unless you give me leave to steal in Liddesdale.""I give thee leave, fool!" said Scroope; "but thou speakest against me and my honour unless thou give me thy hand and pledge that thou wilt steal from none but those who stole from thee.""There is my right hand and pledge! May my head hang on Haribee, and may I never again cross Carlisle sands if I steal from any man who stole not from me.",Dickie joyfully took leave of his lord and master, and went and bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs which he packed up in the thigh of his breeches, then he came on as fast as he could to Pudding-burn house, where were thirty-three Armstrongs."O what has come to me now?" said Dickie, "what great trouble is this? For here is but one innocent fool against thirty-three Armstrongs?" Yet he went courteously up to the Hall board."Well may ye be, my good Laird's Jock, but the devil bless all your company. I'm come to complain of your man, Johnie Armstrong, and of his brother Willie, that they came to my house last night and took away my three cows."Quoth fair Johnie Armstrong, "We'll hang him.""Nay," said Willie, "we'll slay him."But up spoke another young Armstrong, "We'll give him a thrashing and let him go."Then up spoke the good Laird's Jock, the best fellow in all the company, "Sit down a while, Dickie, and we'll give thee a bit of thine own cow's thigh."Dickie's heart was so sore that he could not eat a bit, but he went and lay down in an old peat-house where he thought to sleep the night, and all the prayers the poor fool prayed were, "I wish I had amends for my three good cows."Now it was the custom of Pudding-burn house and of the house of Mangerton, whose laird was chief of the Armstrong clan, that any who came not to the table at the first summons got no more meat till the next meal, so some of the lads, hungry and weary, had thrown the key of the stable above the door-head. Dickie took good notice of that to turn it to his own account, went into the stable where stood thirty-three horses and tied thirty of them with St Mary's knot, tight to their stalls.Of the remaining three, Dickie took two, which belonged to Johnie and Willie Armstrong, and the one belonging to the Laird's Jock he left loose in the stable. Leaping on one, he took the other along with him, and rode off as fast as he could.When day came, there were great shouts and cries."Who has done this," quoth the good Laird's Jock; "see that ye tell me the truth.""It is Dickie that has been in the stable last night, and has taken the horses.""Ye never would listen to me," said the good Laird's Jock, "though I told ye true tales. Ye would never stay out of England but would steal everything, till ye were crooked and blind.""Lend me thy bay," said fair Johnie; "he is the only horse loose in the stable, and I'll either fetch back Dick o' the Cow, or he shall die.""Lend thee my bay!" said Jock; "he is worth gold and good money. Dick o' the Cow has taken two horses; I would not ye make them three."Johnie, however, took the Laird's steel jacket on his back, and a two-handed sword by his side, and a steel cap on his head, and galloped after Dickie, who was barely three miles from the town when Johnie overtook him on Cannobie Lee, on the borders of Liddesdale."Abide, abide, thou traitor thief!" cried Armstrong; "the day is come that thou shalt die!"Dickie looked over his left shoulder and said, "Johnie, hast thou no more in thy company? There is a preacher in our chapel who teaches all the livelong day, and when day is gone and night has come, there are only three words I remember—the first and second are Faith and Conscience—the third is 'Ne'er let a traitor free.' What faith and conscience was thine, Johnie, when thou tookest away my three cows? And when thou hadst taken them away, thou wast not satisfied. Thou sentest thy brother Willie, and took away three coverlets off my wife's bed!"Then Johnie let his spear fall low by his side, and thought he would have killed Dickie, but the powers above were stronger than he, and he only succeeded in running through the fool's jerkin. Dickie out with his sword and ran after him, and when he could not get at him with the blade, he felled him with the butt-end over the eye, felled Johnie Armstrong, the finest man in the south country. "Gramercy," said Dickie, "I had but two horses, thou hast made them three!"—and he took Johnie's steel jacket off his back and his two-handed sword, and his steel cap. "Farewell, Johnie," said he, "I'll tell my master I met thee."When Johnie wakened out of his swoon, he was a sad man. "Art thou gone, Dickie?" he said. "Then the shame and woe are left with me. Art thou gone? Then, Dickie, the devil go in thy company, for if I live to be a hundred, I'll never again fight with a fool."Dickie came home to the good Lord Scroope as fast as he could. "Now, Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink till thou art hanged on high." "Shame speed the liars, my lord," said Dickie, "this was not the promise ye made me, for I would never have gone to Liddesdale to steal if I had not got leave from thee." "But why did ye steal the Laird's Jock's horse? Ye might have lived long in Cumberland before the Laird's Jock had stolen from thee.""Indeed, I knew ye lied, my lord. I won the horse from fair Johnie Armstrong hand to hand on Cannobie Lee. There is the jacket that was on his back, and the two-handed sword that hung by his side, and the steel cap that was on his head. I brought all these tokens to show thee.""If that be true that thou tellest me (and I think thou durst not lie) I'll give thee fifteen pounds for the horse, all told out in the lap of thy cloak; I'll give thee one of my best milk cows to maintain thy wife and three children, and they will be as good as any two of thine would be.""Shame speed the liars, my lord!" said Dickie. "Do ye think aye to make a fool of me? I'll either have twenty pounds for the horse or else I'll take him to Mortan fair."So Scroope gave him twenty pounds for the horse, all in gold and good money, and one of his best milk cows to maintain his wife and three children.Then Dickie rode as fast as he could through Carlisle town, and the first man he met was my lord's brother, Ralph Scroope, Bailiff of Glozenburrie."Well be ye met, Ralph Scroope!" said Dickie."Welcome, my brother's fool!" said Ralph. "Where did ye get Johnie Armstrong's horse?""Where did I get him? I stole him," said Dickie."Wilt thou sell me the bonny horse?""Ay, if thou count out the money in the lap of my cloak, for never a penny will I trust thee.""I'll give thee ten pounds for the horse and count it into the lap of thy cloak, and one of my best milk cows to maintain thy wife and three children.""Shame speed the liars, my lord! Do ye think aye to make a fool of me? I'll either have twenty pounds for the horse, or I'll take him to Mortan fair."So Ralph gave him twenty pounds for the horse, all in gold and good money, and one of his milk cows to maintain his wife and three children.Then Dickie leaped and laughed, and cried, "May the neck of the third horse be broken if either of the two were better than he!"So he came home to his wife and ye may judge how the poor fool had succeeded. For her three stolen coverlets he gave her two score English pounds, and two cows as good as her own three. "And here," said he, "is a white-footed nag that I reckon will carry us both. But if I stay longer in Cumberland the Armstrongs will hang me." So Dickie took leave of his lord and went to live at Burgh under Stanmuir.Chapter XXIXThe Lochmaben HarperThe castle of Lochmaben is said to have been the residence of Robert Bruce while Lord of Allandale. Hence, as a royal fortress, the keeping of it was always granted to some powerful lord. There is extant a grant giving to one of these, Robert Lauder, the office of Captain and Keeper of Lochmaben Castle for seven years, and among his perquisites were "lands stolen from the King"!The inhabitants of four small villages near the castle have each still to this day a right to a small piece of ground. These people are descendants of Robert Bruce's retainers, to whom he assigned these portions of land in reward for faithful service, and there are still to be found some families (e.g.the Richardsons of Lochmaben) who hold their lands direct from the times of Bruce without a break."O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper,How long he lived in Lochmaben town?And how he wad gang to fair England,To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown?But first he gaed to his gude wyfe,Wi' a' the haste that he could thole[#]'This wark,' quo' he, 'will ne'er gae wellWithout a mare that has a foal.'[#] Suffer.Quoth his wife, "Thou hast a good grey mare that can jump both high and low; so set thee on her back and leave the foal at home with me." Away went the Harper to England as fast as he might, and when he came to Carlisle gate, who should be there but the Warden himself?"'Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,And of thy harping let me hear!''O, by my sooth,' quo' the silly blind Harper,'I wad rather hae stabling for my mare."The Warden looked o'er his left shoulder,And said unto his stable groom—'Gae take the silly blind Harper's mare,And tie her beside my Wanton Brown.'"So the Harper harped and sang, the lordlings danced, and so sweet was the music that the groom forgot all about the stable door. Still the Harper harped on till all the nobles were fast asleep, when he quickly took off his shoes, crept softly down the stair, and hied with light tread to the stable door, which he opened and entered. He found there three-and-thirty steeds. He took a colt's halter which he had hidden in his hose, slipped it over Wanton Brown, tied it to the grey mare's tail, and turned them both loose at the castle gate.Away they went over moor and moss and dale, and the mare never let Wanton rest a moment, but kept him galloping home to her foal. So swift of foot was she, and knew her way so well, that she reached Lochmaben a good three hours before daybreak.When she came to the Harper's door, she neighed and snorted. "Rise up," shouted the Harper's wife, "thou lazy lass, and let in thy master and his mare." The lass rose up, put on her clothes and looked through the lock-hole. "By my sooth," cried she, "our mare has got a fine brown foal!""Hold thy tongue, thou foolish wench, the light is dazzling thine eyes. I'll wager all I have against a groat that it's bigger than ever our foal will be."Still in merry Carlisle the Harper harped to high and low, and nought could they do but listen to him until day-dawn. But when it was daylight they discovered that Wanton Brown was gone and also the poor blind Harper's mare."Alas! alas!" cried the cunning old Harper, "alas that I came here; in Scotland I have lost a brown colt foal and in England they have stolen my good grey mare.""Cease thy lamenting, thou silly blind Harper, and go on harping; we'll pay thee well for the loss of thy colt foal and thou shalt have a far better mare." So the harper harped and sang, and so sweet were his harpings that he was paid for the foal he never had lost and three times over for the gray mare.Chapter XXXThe Rookhope RideThis Durham border song is supposed to be spoken by a Weardale man, who begins by denouncing the inhabitants of the Tyne valley, "and all their companies there about" as false thieves,"minded to do mischiefAnd at their stealing stands not out."It must be confessed that the Tynedale men had an unenviable reputation. They were such lawless desperadoes, so addicted to rapine, that during more than two centuries the merchants of Newcastle regularly refused to take an apprentice born in that district. The date is December 1572. The rebel Earl of Northumberland, who had taken up arms for Mary Queen of Scots, and for the old religion, had been betrayed by the Scots and beheaded at York. Owing to this rebellion there was great confusion in the northern counties, hence the time was well chosen by the "limmer thieves" of Tynedale to make a predatory raid on their neighbours. They gathered together the stoutest men of arms and the best in gear, a hundred or more in number, and in the forenoon, about eleven o'clock, they came into a "bye-fell" and stopped for a meal—the last which some of them would eat. When they had eaten, they chose their captains, Harry Corbyl, Simon Fell, and Martin Ridley. Then they rode on over the moss, "with many a brank and whew," saying to one another that they were men enough,"For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en,They are so far out o'er yon fell,That some of them's with the two earls,And others fast in Bernard castell.There we shall get gear enough,For there is nane but women at hame;The sorrowful fend that they can make.Is loudly cries as they were slain."They came in at Rookhope Head, which is the top of a rocky valley, about five miles long, at the end of which Rookhope Burn empties itself into the river Wear. This valley is as wild and open to-day as it was then. In some four hours they gathered together about six hundred sheep and they were engaged in "shifting" the horses, when the hue and cry was raised by one Rowley, whose horse they tried to take. He was the first man to see them. The cry spread rapidly down Rookhope burn and through Weardale, and word came to the bailiff's house at the East-gate. He was out, but his wife had his horse saddled and sent it to him, together with his sword, spear, and jacket quilted with iron plates, the sort of harness worn by the moss-troopers and other light horsemen of the time. The bailiff had already heard the bad news, and was sorely troubled thereby. His own brother had been attacked three days before by marauders, and lay sick with nineteen wounds. Yet the bailiff shrank not at all, but hied fast after the sheep-stealers, with as many of the neighbours as he could gather to bear him company.The pursuers overtook the thieves in Nuketon Cleugh, and gave them all the fighting they wanted. Not one of them ever thought to see his wife again. They bore three banners against the Weardale men, "as if the world had been all their own." The fray lasted only an hour, but many a tall man lay weaponless and sore wounded before that hour was done, and four of the Northumbrian prickers were slain, including Harry Corbyl whom they had chosen to be their captain. Eleven of them were taken prisoners. Only one of the Weardale men fell but—"These Weardale-men, they have good hearts,They are as stiff as any tree;For, if they'd everyone been slain,Never a foot back man would flee.And such a storm amongst them fell,As I think you never heard the like;For he that bears his head on high,He oft-tymes falls into the dyke.And now I do entreat you all,As many as are present here,To pray for the singer of this song,For he sings to make blythe your cheer."Chapter XXXIBarthram's DirgeThe story of how this ballad came to be preserved to us is a very interesting one. A Mr Surtees, who was very interested in the old ballads, used to give work to a poor old Scotswoman to weed in his garden. Finding that she had learnt ballads in her young days, he encouraged her to talk about them, and this was amongst those which she recited to him. She told him that it referred to a young man named Bertram or Barthrum, who made love to a young lady against the wish of her brothers. The cruel brothers slew him, but the lady had him buried at the very spot where he was wont to come to visit her in the days of their love. Sir Walter Scott thinks that perhaps Barthram was an Englishman and the lady was Scottish, and that the anger of the lady's brothers against him was partly on that account.It must be remembered that in those stormy days, when Border rivalry was keen, and all the Border chiefs, on both sides, were men of war-like mould, intermarriage between the two races was punishable by Border law. Each side felt equally that such mixed marriages would sooner or later produce a race that was neither loyal English nor loyal Scotch. A spirit of aloofness and rivalry was deliberately encouraged, right up to the time of the union of the two countries under one king.BARTHRAM'S DIRGEThey shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig,Beside the Headless Cross,And they left him lying in his blood,Upon the moor and moss.* * * * *They made a bier of the broken bough,The sauch and the aspin gray,And they bore him to the Lady Chapel,And waked him there all day.A lady came to that lonely bower,And threw her robes aside,She tore her long yellow hair,And knelt at Barthram's side.She bathed him in the Lady-Well,His wounds so deep and sair,And she plaited a garland for his breast,And a garland for his hair.They rowed him in a lily-sheet,And bare him to his earth,And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass,As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.They buried him at the mirk midnight,When the dew fell cold and still,When the aspin gray forgot to play,And the mist clung to the hill.They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,By the edge of the Ninestone Burn,And they covered him o'er with the heather-flower,The moss and the Lady fern.A Gray Friar staid upon the grave,And sang till the morning tide,And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul,While the Headless Cross shall bide.[#][#] Mr Surtees observes, on this passage, that in the return made by the commissioners, on the dissolution of Newminster Abbey, there is an item of a Chauntery, for one priest to sing dailyad crucem lapideam. Probably many of these crosses had the like expiatory solemnities for persons slain there. They certainly did bury, in former days, near the Ninestone Burn, for Sir Walter Scott found there, lying among the heather, a small monumental cross, with initials, which he reverently placed upright.Chapter XXXIIQueen Mary and the BordersThe brief reign of Mary, Queen of Scots, was so crowded with incident that she was left with little time to visit the disturbed borderland of her kingdom. None-the-less her few visits to this district were fraught with important consequences. In 1565, when she married her cousin Lord Darnley, the head of the Douglas faction and a Roman Catholic, the Protestant nobles took up arms. In her very honeymoon she headed her soldiers, pursued the rebels to Dumfries, entered the town with a pistol in each hand, and laughed heartily at the fun of making her enemies "skip like rabbits" over the Border. She was only twenty-two years old—a fearless, dashing, attractive woman, with a clever head, a strong will, and a wild and lawless disposition.In the next year she again visited the Border, but on a very different errand. Mary had developed an extreme fancy for that bold Border Lord, the Earl of Bothwell, whose Castle of Hermitage commanded the picturesque and important valley of the Liddel. The Queen had given him authority to control the fierce Borderers; and when the earl was riding out he met the most lawless of them, Jock Elliot, of whom the couplet—"My name is little Jock ElliotAnd who dare meddle wi' me?"Bothwell fired straight at Elliot with his pistol, wounding him in the leg. Elliot aimed a mighty blow at Bothwell with his two-handed sword, giving the earl so sore a wound that he was glad enough to gallop home while there was yet time to save his life.Mary was holding solemn court at Jedburgh when she heard of her favourite's danger. She straightway took horse and rode to Hermitage, a hard cross-country ride of twenty miles, through a district infested with reckless men. When she galloped back to Jedburgh, she was in high fever and nearly died. Later on, in the misery of her long imprisonment, she often said, "Would I had died at Jedburgh!" Years later, a broken piece of a silver spur was found at Queensmire, on this difficult and dangerous road, just where Queen Mary's horse was said to have come to grief.Yet another time Queen Mary came to the Border, this time to cross it—after her imprisonment at Lochleven, her escape, and the disastrous rout of her followers at Langside. Daring and resourceful as ever, she fled across the Solway in an open boat; Scotland had failed her, she sought the protection of England. She landed at Cockermouth, and was led to Carlisle by Sir R. Lowther, and kept there, in reality a prisoner, while Elizabeth was musing of the dangers of the position. The Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland took up Mary's cause and attempted to rescue her, but the Warden of Carlisle, Lord Scroope, defended the town successfully against the two earls, and they were soon in flight, eastward for their very lives. After this attempt at rescue Mary was, for greater safety, sent down to Bolton Castle in Yorkshire.[image]Queen Mary crossing the SolwayLeonard Dacre, a member of the powerful Cumberland family of the Dacres, seems to have played a treacherous part, first promising the earls his help, and then betraying them to Elizabeth. He seized Nawarth Castle, which properly belonged to his young niece, and collected together three thousand men to the old Border war-cry, "A Red Bull, a Red Bull!" (probably the nickname of some fierce red-haired Celtic champion). The defeated earls came to Nawarth for shelter, and Dacre refused to harbour them. But by this time Elizabeth was convinced of Dacre's treason, and ordered Lord Hudson, the Governor of Berwick, to arrest him.Hudson appears to have marched by rather a round-about way, for Dacre met him at Geltbridge, on the west of Nawarth. A bridge is always a good point of vantage for meeting an enemy, especially when the river runs, as the Gelt does, through a deep and wooded gorge. The enemy has only a narrow way by which to approach, and no doubt Dacre posted his archers behind the trees and among the great rocks. The fight was a desperate one, but Hudson's men prevailed and pursued their foes far up the hill of Gelt, scuffling fiercely among the forest trees and dyeing a deeper hue the red sandstone cliffs and quarries.All the rebels who could escape fled across the Border to Scotland, where the Borderers, who were till then their enemies, received them with that open and fair hospitality which was one of their many great qualities. Elizabeth demanded that the leading noblemen should be given up to her; but although the Scottish Regent, Murray, made a pretence of trying to secure the Earl of Westmoreland, the Scots had too much sense of honour to allow him to proceed.The Earl of Northumberland, was however betrayed to the Scottish Regent by Hector Armstrong of Harelaw; but this the gallant Borderers held to be shameful, and Armstrong was a ruined man from that day forth.Two years later, this Earl was actually sold to Elizabeth and beheaded at York. Thus ended this small rebellion, called in history the Rising of the North, but which is known locally in Cumberland as Dacre's Raid.There is a little stream which rushes down a deep and beautiful glade to join the river Gelt above Geltbridge; this stream is known as "Hellbeck," and villagers tell us that the reason for this name is that it was stained with blood for two whole days after some battle that took place there. This battle is probably the one spoken of here.A wicket gate by Geltbridge leads us to the path through Gelt woods. The noble gorge is deeply cleft through the grand red sandstone rocks. Below roars and dashes the impetuous river; the path winds, sometimes high, sometimes low, through wonderful weeds, carpeted with beautiful mosses, gemmed with delightful flowers. On one of the rocks is an inscription carved by a Roman soldier, over fifteen hundred years ago. Follow the river, up, up, till the little Hellbeck is seen trickling down from the east; cross the little bridge and follow the streamlet on its opposite bank, along a path so little trod as to be scarcely visible; wander among ferns along one of the loneliest glens in the whole of Britain, passing the great railway bridge (underif the stream be low oroverif it be high) till you join the main road again. There is no spot more beautiful or more peaceful. Yet this is the Hellbeck where men fought and hacked, and slashed and slew, among these woods, up and down these steep hillsides. These old trees, when young, have felt warm blood at their roots; and all because of a young, wild wilful queen, who fascinated men's hearts then, and the memory of whom fascinates them still.

Chapter XXVII

Kinmont Willie

"O have ye not heard of the false Sakelde,O have ye not heard of the keen Lord Scroope,How they have taken bold Kinmont WillieOn Haribee to hang him oop?"

"O have ye not heard of the false Sakelde,

O have ye not heard of the keen Lord Scroope,

How they have taken bold Kinmont Willie

On Haribee to hang him oop?"

The story of this famous freebooter, William Armstrong of Kinmonth, belongs to the time of Queen Elizabeth, when Lord Scroope was Warden of the Western Marches, and Mr Sakelde of Corby Castle was his Deputy.

Kinmont Willie was a descendant of the famous Johnie Armstrong of Gilnockie, and his capture was a violation of the existing truce between Scroope and Buccleuch, the Keeper of Liddesdale. Elizabeth was indignant at Buccleuch's action in rescuing Willie, and as the Scots at that time were very anxious not to offend her, Buccleuch was sent to England and came before the Queen, who asked him how he dared to undertake such an adventure. "What is it," answered he, "that a man dare not do?"

"With ten thousand such men," said Elizabeth, turning to a lord-in-waiting, "our brother of Scotland might shake the firmest throne of Europe."

The ballad tells of the capture of Kinmont Willie, and how the false Sakelde and his men treacherously seized him.

They bound his legs beneath his horse, and tied his hands behind his back, and with five men on each side to guard him, brought him over Liddel ford and through Carlisle sands to Carlisle castle.

When he arrived there, Willie addressed his captor in these words:

"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free. Who will avow this deed or answer for it to bold Buccleuch?"

"Hold thy tongue, thou rank robber! Never a Scot shall set thee free. Ye shall take farewell of me before ye cross my castle gate," said Scroope.

"Fear ye not that, my lord," answers Willie, "for by the faith of my body, never did I yet lodge in a hostelry but that I paid my reckoning before I went."

Word was sent to Branksome Hall to the Keeper of Liddesdale that Lord Scroope had captured Kinmont Willie, whereupon the Keeper smote the table with his hand till the red wine sprang on high, "A curse on my head," he cried, "if I be not avenged of Lord Scroope. Is my helmet a widow's cap, or my lance a twig from a willow-tree, or my fist a lady's lily hand, that an English lord should appraise me so lightly? Have they taken Kinmont Willie in spite of the truce, and forgotten that the bold Buccleuch is Keeper on the Scottish side? Have they taken Kinmont Willie so fearlessly, and forgotten that the bold Buccleuch can back a steed and wield a weapon? Were there but war between the lands, then would I slight Carlisle Castle though it were built of marble; I would set it on fire and drench it with English blood. But since there is peace and not war, I'll set the Kinmont free yet never harm English lad or lass!"

So Buccleuch called forty bold Marchmen, all of his own name and kin except one, Sir Gilbert Elliot, Laird of Stobs. They came spur on heel and armour on shoulder, with gloves of green and feathers of blue. Five and five came first with hunting-horns and bugles; five and five more came with Buccleuch like Warden's men arrayed for battle; five and five came like a gang of masons, carrying long high ladders; and five and five came like broken men, and so they reached Woodhouselee.

When they had crossed to the English side, the first man they met was the false Sakelde.

"Where are ye going, ye keen hunters?" quoth Sakelde.

"We go to hunt an English stag that has trespassed on Scottish ground."

"Where are ye going, ye martial men?"

"We go to catch a rank robber that has broken faith with the bold Buccleuch."

"Where are ye going, ye mason lads, with all these long high ladders?"

"We go to harry a corbie's nest not far from here."

"Where are ye going, ye broken men?" said false Sakelde.

But Dickie of Dryhope, leader of the broken men, had never a word of learning, and answered nothing.

"Why trespass ye on the English side? Stand! ye raw-footed outlaws!"

Never a word yet said Dickie, but for answer ran his lance clean through the body of the false Sakelde.

On then they went to Carlisle town, crossing the Eden at Staneshaw-bank, nor lost they either horse or man, though the water was high in flood.

When they reached Staneshaw-bank the wind was rising, and the Laird ordered them to leave there their horses for fear they should stamp and neigh. The wind blew loudly enough then, but when they came beneath the castle wall there was wind and rain and flying sleet. On they crept on their knees and held their breath till they placed the ladders against the wall. Buccleuch himself mounted first, took the watchman by the throat and flung him down upon the leads. "Thou hadst gone on the other side," said he, "had there not been peace between our lands."

[image]The Escape of Kinmont Willie

[image]

The Escape of Kinmont Willie

"Sound out the trumpets!" quoth he; "let's wake up Lord Scroope!" Then loud blew the Warden's trumpet to the tune of "O wha dare meddle wi' me?"

To work they went speedily, and cut a hole through the lead, gaining thus the castle hall.

Those inside thought the castle had been taken by King James and all his men, yet it was only twenty Scots and ten that had put a thousand in such a stir. They hammered and banged at the bars until they came to the inner prison, where lay Kinmont Willie.

"Do ye sleep or wake, Kinmont Willie, on the morn when ye shall die?"

"O I sleep lightly and wake often; it's long since sleep was frightened from me. Give my service to my wife and bairns and all good fellows that enquire after me."

Red Rowan, the strongest man in Teviotdale, lifted him up. "Stay now, Red Rowan, till I take farewell of Lord Scroope. Farewell, farewell, my good Lord Scroope," he cried. "I will pay ye for my lodging when first we meet on the Border."

With shout and cry Red Rowan bore him on his shoulders down the long ladder, the irons clanking at every stride.

"Many a time," said Kinmont Willie, "have I ridden a horse both wild and unruly, but never have my legs bestrode a rougher beast than Red Rowan. Many a time have I pricked a horse over the furrows, but never since I backed a steed have I worn such cumbrous spurs."

Scarcely had they won the Staneshaw-bank when all the bells in Carlisle were ringing and Lord Scroope was after them with a thousand men on horse and on foot. But—

"Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden waterEven where it flowed frae bank to brim,And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,And safely swam them through the stream.He turn'd him on the other side,And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he—'If ye like na my visit to merry England,In fair Scotland come visit me!'All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,He stood as still as rock of stane;He scarcely dared to trew[#] his eyes,When through the water they had gane.

"Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden waterEven where it flowed frae bank to brim,And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,And safely swam them through the stream.

"Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden water

Even where it flowed frae bank to brim,

And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,

And safely swam them through the stream.

He turn'd him on the other side,And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he—'If ye like na my visit to merry England,In fair Scotland come visit me!'

He turn'd him on the other side,

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he—

'If ye like na my visit to merry England,

In fair Scotland come visit me!'

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,He stood as still as rock of stane;He scarcely dared to trew[#] his eyes,When through the water they had gane.

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,

He stood as still as rock of stane;

He scarcely dared to trew[#] his eyes,

When through the water they had gane.

[#] Trust

'He is either himsell a devil frae hell,Or else his mother a witch maun be;I wadna have ridden that wan water,For a' the gowd[#] in Christentie.'"

'He is either himsell a devil frae hell,

Or else his mother a witch maun be;

I wadna have ridden that wan water,

For a' the gowd[#] in Christentie.'"

[#] Gold

Chapter XXVIII

Dick o' the Cow

"Fair Johnie Armstrong to Willie did say'Billie, a-riding we will gae.'"

"Fair Johnie Armstrong to Willie did say

'Billie, a-riding we will gae.'"

The ballad of this name, a popular one in Liddesdale, relates, like that of Kinmont Willie, to the time when Lord Scroope was Warden of the West Marches and Governor of Carlisle. Dick o' the Cow seems to have been his fool or jester. Dickie, some years after the events described in the ballad, fell a victim to the vengeance of the Armstrongs.

There had been no raids from Liddesdale for a considerable time, and no riding, and the horses had all grown so fat that they dare scarcely stir out of the stall. Then fair Johnie Armstrong said to his brother Willie, "Brother, we will go a-riding. We have long been at feud with England, and perhaps we shall find some spoil."

So they rode to Hulton Hall and round about it, but the laird, a wise man, had left neither goods nor cattle outside to steal, except six sheep in a meadow. Said Johnie, "I'd rather die in England than take those six sheep to Liddesdale."

"But who was that man we last met as we came over the hill?"

"Oh, he is an innocent fool, and men call him Dick o' the Cow."

"That fool has three good cows of his own, as good as there are in Cumberland. Betide me life or death, they shall go to Liddesdale with me!"

So they came to the house of the poor fool, broke down his thick wall, loosed his three cows, and took also three coverlets from his wife's bed.

In the morning at daylight when the loss was discovered, there were loud lamentations. "Hold thy tongue, wife," said Dickie, "and stop thy crying. I'll bring thee back three cows for each one that thou hast lost."

So Dickie went to Lord Scroope. "Hold thy tongue, fool," said Scroope. "I have no time for jesting."

"A shame on your jesting, my lord!" said Dickie, "jesting agrees not with me. Liddesdale was in my house last night and has taken my three cows. I can no longer dwell in Cumberland as your poor faithful fool, unless you give me leave to steal in Liddesdale."

"I give thee leave, fool!" said Scroope; "but thou speakest against me and my honour unless thou give me thy hand and pledge that thou wilt steal from none but those who stole from thee."

"There is my right hand and pledge! May my head hang on Haribee, and may I never again cross Carlisle sands if I steal from any man who stole not from me.",

Dickie joyfully took leave of his lord and master, and went and bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs which he packed up in the thigh of his breeches, then he came on as fast as he could to Pudding-burn house, where were thirty-three Armstrongs.

"O what has come to me now?" said Dickie, "what great trouble is this? For here is but one innocent fool against thirty-three Armstrongs?" Yet he went courteously up to the Hall board.

"Well may ye be, my good Laird's Jock, but the devil bless all your company. I'm come to complain of your man, Johnie Armstrong, and of his brother Willie, that they came to my house last night and took away my three cows."

Quoth fair Johnie Armstrong, "We'll hang him."

"Nay," said Willie, "we'll slay him."

But up spoke another young Armstrong, "We'll give him a thrashing and let him go."

Then up spoke the good Laird's Jock, the best fellow in all the company, "Sit down a while, Dickie, and we'll give thee a bit of thine own cow's thigh."

Dickie's heart was so sore that he could not eat a bit, but he went and lay down in an old peat-house where he thought to sleep the night, and all the prayers the poor fool prayed were, "I wish I had amends for my three good cows."

Now it was the custom of Pudding-burn house and of the house of Mangerton, whose laird was chief of the Armstrong clan, that any who came not to the table at the first summons got no more meat till the next meal, so some of the lads, hungry and weary, had thrown the key of the stable above the door-head. Dickie took good notice of that to turn it to his own account, went into the stable where stood thirty-three horses and tied thirty of them with St Mary's knot, tight to their stalls.

Of the remaining three, Dickie took two, which belonged to Johnie and Willie Armstrong, and the one belonging to the Laird's Jock he left loose in the stable. Leaping on one, he took the other along with him, and rode off as fast as he could.

When day came, there were great shouts and cries.

"Who has done this," quoth the good Laird's Jock; "see that ye tell me the truth."

"It is Dickie that has been in the stable last night, and has taken the horses."

"Ye never would listen to me," said the good Laird's Jock, "though I told ye true tales. Ye would never stay out of England but would steal everything, till ye were crooked and blind."

"Lend me thy bay," said fair Johnie; "he is the only horse loose in the stable, and I'll either fetch back Dick o' the Cow, or he shall die."

"Lend thee my bay!" said Jock; "he is worth gold and good money. Dick o' the Cow has taken two horses; I would not ye make them three."

Johnie, however, took the Laird's steel jacket on his back, and a two-handed sword by his side, and a steel cap on his head, and galloped after Dickie, who was barely three miles from the town when Johnie overtook him on Cannobie Lee, on the borders of Liddesdale.

"Abide, abide, thou traitor thief!" cried Armstrong; "the day is come that thou shalt die!"

Dickie looked over his left shoulder and said, "Johnie, hast thou no more in thy company? There is a preacher in our chapel who teaches all the livelong day, and when day is gone and night has come, there are only three words I remember—the first and second are Faith and Conscience—the third is 'Ne'er let a traitor free.' What faith and conscience was thine, Johnie, when thou tookest away my three cows? And when thou hadst taken them away, thou wast not satisfied. Thou sentest thy brother Willie, and took away three coverlets off my wife's bed!"

Then Johnie let his spear fall low by his side, and thought he would have killed Dickie, but the powers above were stronger than he, and he only succeeded in running through the fool's jerkin. Dickie out with his sword and ran after him, and when he could not get at him with the blade, he felled him with the butt-end over the eye, felled Johnie Armstrong, the finest man in the south country. "Gramercy," said Dickie, "I had but two horses, thou hast made them three!"—and he took Johnie's steel jacket off his back and his two-handed sword, and his steel cap. "Farewell, Johnie," said he, "I'll tell my master I met thee."

When Johnie wakened out of his swoon, he was a sad man. "Art thou gone, Dickie?" he said. "Then the shame and woe are left with me. Art thou gone? Then, Dickie, the devil go in thy company, for if I live to be a hundred, I'll never again fight with a fool."

Dickie came home to the good Lord Scroope as fast as he could. "Now, Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink till thou art hanged on high." "Shame speed the liars, my lord," said Dickie, "this was not the promise ye made me, for I would never have gone to Liddesdale to steal if I had not got leave from thee." "But why did ye steal the Laird's Jock's horse? Ye might have lived long in Cumberland before the Laird's Jock had stolen from thee."

"Indeed, I knew ye lied, my lord. I won the horse from fair Johnie Armstrong hand to hand on Cannobie Lee. There is the jacket that was on his back, and the two-handed sword that hung by his side, and the steel cap that was on his head. I brought all these tokens to show thee."

"If that be true that thou tellest me (and I think thou durst not lie) I'll give thee fifteen pounds for the horse, all told out in the lap of thy cloak; I'll give thee one of my best milk cows to maintain thy wife and three children, and they will be as good as any two of thine would be."

"Shame speed the liars, my lord!" said Dickie. "Do ye think aye to make a fool of me? I'll either have twenty pounds for the horse or else I'll take him to Mortan fair."

So Scroope gave him twenty pounds for the horse, all in gold and good money, and one of his best milk cows to maintain his wife and three children.

Then Dickie rode as fast as he could through Carlisle town, and the first man he met was my lord's brother, Ralph Scroope, Bailiff of Glozenburrie.

"Well be ye met, Ralph Scroope!" said Dickie.

"Welcome, my brother's fool!" said Ralph. "Where did ye get Johnie Armstrong's horse?"

"Where did I get him? I stole him," said Dickie.

"Wilt thou sell me the bonny horse?"

"Ay, if thou count out the money in the lap of my cloak, for never a penny will I trust thee."

"I'll give thee ten pounds for the horse and count it into the lap of thy cloak, and one of my best milk cows to maintain thy wife and three children."

"Shame speed the liars, my lord! Do ye think aye to make a fool of me? I'll either have twenty pounds for the horse, or I'll take him to Mortan fair."

So Ralph gave him twenty pounds for the horse, all in gold and good money, and one of his milk cows to maintain his wife and three children.

Then Dickie leaped and laughed, and cried, "May the neck of the third horse be broken if either of the two were better than he!"

So he came home to his wife and ye may judge how the poor fool had succeeded. For her three stolen coverlets he gave her two score English pounds, and two cows as good as her own three. "And here," said he, "is a white-footed nag that I reckon will carry us both. But if I stay longer in Cumberland the Armstrongs will hang me." So Dickie took leave of his lord and went to live at Burgh under Stanmuir.

Chapter XXIX

The Lochmaben Harper

The castle of Lochmaben is said to have been the residence of Robert Bruce while Lord of Allandale. Hence, as a royal fortress, the keeping of it was always granted to some powerful lord. There is extant a grant giving to one of these, Robert Lauder, the office of Captain and Keeper of Lochmaben Castle for seven years, and among his perquisites were "lands stolen from the King"!

The inhabitants of four small villages near the castle have each still to this day a right to a small piece of ground. These people are descendants of Robert Bruce's retainers, to whom he assigned these portions of land in reward for faithful service, and there are still to be found some families (e.g.the Richardsons of Lochmaben) who hold their lands direct from the times of Bruce without a break.

"O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper,How long he lived in Lochmaben town?And how he wad gang to fair England,To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown?But first he gaed to his gude wyfe,Wi' a' the haste that he could thole[#]'This wark,' quo' he, 'will ne'er gae wellWithout a mare that has a foal.'

"O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper,How long he lived in Lochmaben town?And how he wad gang to fair England,To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown?

"O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper,

How long he lived in Lochmaben town?

And how he wad gang to fair England,

To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown?

But first he gaed to his gude wyfe,Wi' a' the haste that he could thole[#]'This wark,' quo' he, 'will ne'er gae wellWithout a mare that has a foal.'

But first he gaed to his gude wyfe,

Wi' a' the haste that he could thole[#]

'This wark,' quo' he, 'will ne'er gae well

Without a mare that has a foal.'

[#] Suffer.

Quoth his wife, "Thou hast a good grey mare that can jump both high and low; so set thee on her back and leave the foal at home with me." Away went the Harper to England as fast as he might, and when he came to Carlisle gate, who should be there but the Warden himself?

"'Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,And of thy harping let me hear!''O, by my sooth,' quo' the silly blind Harper,'I wad rather hae stabling for my mare."The Warden looked o'er his left shoulder,And said unto his stable groom—'Gae take the silly blind Harper's mare,And tie her beside my Wanton Brown.'"

"'Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,And of thy harping let me hear!''O, by my sooth,' quo' the silly blind Harper,'I wad rather hae stabling for my mare."

"'Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,

And of thy harping let me hear!'

'O, by my sooth,' quo' the silly blind Harper,

'I wad rather hae stabling for my mare."

The Warden looked o'er his left shoulder,And said unto his stable groom—'Gae take the silly blind Harper's mare,And tie her beside my Wanton Brown.'"

The Warden looked o'er his left shoulder,

And said unto his stable groom—

'Gae take the silly blind Harper's mare,

And tie her beside my Wanton Brown.'"

So the Harper harped and sang, the lordlings danced, and so sweet was the music that the groom forgot all about the stable door. Still the Harper harped on till all the nobles were fast asleep, when he quickly took off his shoes, crept softly down the stair, and hied with light tread to the stable door, which he opened and entered. He found there three-and-thirty steeds. He took a colt's halter which he had hidden in his hose, slipped it over Wanton Brown, tied it to the grey mare's tail, and turned them both loose at the castle gate.

Away they went over moor and moss and dale, and the mare never let Wanton rest a moment, but kept him galloping home to her foal. So swift of foot was she, and knew her way so well, that she reached Lochmaben a good three hours before daybreak.

When she came to the Harper's door, she neighed and snorted. "Rise up," shouted the Harper's wife, "thou lazy lass, and let in thy master and his mare." The lass rose up, put on her clothes and looked through the lock-hole. "By my sooth," cried she, "our mare has got a fine brown foal!"

"Hold thy tongue, thou foolish wench, the light is dazzling thine eyes. I'll wager all I have against a groat that it's bigger than ever our foal will be."

Still in merry Carlisle the Harper harped to high and low, and nought could they do but listen to him until day-dawn. But when it was daylight they discovered that Wanton Brown was gone and also the poor blind Harper's mare.

"Alas! alas!" cried the cunning old Harper, "alas that I came here; in Scotland I have lost a brown colt foal and in England they have stolen my good grey mare."

"Cease thy lamenting, thou silly blind Harper, and go on harping; we'll pay thee well for the loss of thy colt foal and thou shalt have a far better mare." So the harper harped and sang, and so sweet were his harpings that he was paid for the foal he never had lost and three times over for the gray mare.

Chapter XXX

The Rookhope Ride

This Durham border song is supposed to be spoken by a Weardale man, who begins by denouncing the inhabitants of the Tyne valley, "and all their companies there about" as false thieves,

"minded to do mischiefAnd at their stealing stands not out."

"minded to do mischief

And at their stealing stands not out."

It must be confessed that the Tynedale men had an unenviable reputation. They were such lawless desperadoes, so addicted to rapine, that during more than two centuries the merchants of Newcastle regularly refused to take an apprentice born in that district. The date is December 1572. The rebel Earl of Northumberland, who had taken up arms for Mary Queen of Scots, and for the old religion, had been betrayed by the Scots and beheaded at York. Owing to this rebellion there was great confusion in the northern counties, hence the time was well chosen by the "limmer thieves" of Tynedale to make a predatory raid on their neighbours. They gathered together the stoutest men of arms and the best in gear, a hundred or more in number, and in the forenoon, about eleven o'clock, they came into a "bye-fell" and stopped for a meal—the last which some of them would eat. When they had eaten, they chose their captains, Harry Corbyl, Simon Fell, and Martin Ridley. Then they rode on over the moss, "with many a brank and whew," saying to one another that they were men enough,

"For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en,They are so far out o'er yon fell,That some of them's with the two earls,And others fast in Bernard castell.There we shall get gear enough,For there is nane but women at hame;The sorrowful fend that they can make.Is loudly cries as they were slain."

"For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en,They are so far out o'er yon fell,That some of them's with the two earls,And others fast in Bernard castell.

"For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en,

They are so far out o'er yon fell,

That some of them's with the two earls,

And others fast in Bernard castell.

There we shall get gear enough,For there is nane but women at hame;The sorrowful fend that they can make.Is loudly cries as they were slain."

There we shall get gear enough,

For there is nane but women at hame;

The sorrowful fend that they can make.

Is loudly cries as they were slain."

They came in at Rookhope Head, which is the top of a rocky valley, about five miles long, at the end of which Rookhope Burn empties itself into the river Wear. This valley is as wild and open to-day as it was then. In some four hours they gathered together about six hundred sheep and they were engaged in "shifting" the horses, when the hue and cry was raised by one Rowley, whose horse they tried to take. He was the first man to see them. The cry spread rapidly down Rookhope burn and through Weardale, and word came to the bailiff's house at the East-gate. He was out, but his wife had his horse saddled and sent it to him, together with his sword, spear, and jacket quilted with iron plates, the sort of harness worn by the moss-troopers and other light horsemen of the time. The bailiff had already heard the bad news, and was sorely troubled thereby. His own brother had been attacked three days before by marauders, and lay sick with nineteen wounds. Yet the bailiff shrank not at all, but hied fast after the sheep-stealers, with as many of the neighbours as he could gather to bear him company.

The pursuers overtook the thieves in Nuketon Cleugh, and gave them all the fighting they wanted. Not one of them ever thought to see his wife again. They bore three banners against the Weardale men, "as if the world had been all their own." The fray lasted only an hour, but many a tall man lay weaponless and sore wounded before that hour was done, and four of the Northumbrian prickers were slain, including Harry Corbyl whom they had chosen to be their captain. Eleven of them were taken prisoners. Only one of the Weardale men fell but—

"These Weardale-men, they have good hearts,They are as stiff as any tree;For, if they'd everyone been slain,Never a foot back man would flee.And such a storm amongst them fell,As I think you never heard the like;For he that bears his head on high,He oft-tymes falls into the dyke.And now I do entreat you all,As many as are present here,To pray for the singer of this song,For he sings to make blythe your cheer."

"These Weardale-men, they have good hearts,They are as stiff as any tree;For, if they'd everyone been slain,Never a foot back man would flee.

"These Weardale-men, they have good hearts,

They are as stiff as any tree;

For, if they'd everyone been slain,

Never a foot back man would flee.

And such a storm amongst them fell,As I think you never heard the like;For he that bears his head on high,He oft-tymes falls into the dyke.

And such a storm amongst them fell,

As I think you never heard the like;

For he that bears his head on high,

He oft-tymes falls into the dyke.

And now I do entreat you all,As many as are present here,To pray for the singer of this song,For he sings to make blythe your cheer."

And now I do entreat you all,

As many as are present here,

To pray for the singer of this song,

For he sings to make blythe your cheer."

Chapter XXXI

Barthram's Dirge

The story of how this ballad came to be preserved to us is a very interesting one. A Mr Surtees, who was very interested in the old ballads, used to give work to a poor old Scotswoman to weed in his garden. Finding that she had learnt ballads in her young days, he encouraged her to talk about them, and this was amongst those which she recited to him. She told him that it referred to a young man named Bertram or Barthrum, who made love to a young lady against the wish of her brothers. The cruel brothers slew him, but the lady had him buried at the very spot where he was wont to come to visit her in the days of their love. Sir Walter Scott thinks that perhaps Barthram was an Englishman and the lady was Scottish, and that the anger of the lady's brothers against him was partly on that account.

It must be remembered that in those stormy days, when Border rivalry was keen, and all the Border chiefs, on both sides, were men of war-like mould, intermarriage between the two races was punishable by Border law. Each side felt equally that such mixed marriages would sooner or later produce a race that was neither loyal English nor loyal Scotch. A spirit of aloofness and rivalry was deliberately encouraged, right up to the time of the union of the two countries under one king.

BARTHRAM'S DIRGE

They shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig,Beside the Headless Cross,And they left him lying in his blood,Upon the moor and moss.* * * * *They made a bier of the broken bough,The sauch and the aspin gray,And they bore him to the Lady Chapel,And waked him there all day.A lady came to that lonely bower,And threw her robes aside,She tore her long yellow hair,And knelt at Barthram's side.She bathed him in the Lady-Well,His wounds so deep and sair,And she plaited a garland for his breast,And a garland for his hair.They rowed him in a lily-sheet,And bare him to his earth,And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass,As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.They buried him at the mirk midnight,When the dew fell cold and still,When the aspin gray forgot to play,And the mist clung to the hill.They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,By the edge of the Ninestone Burn,And they covered him o'er with the heather-flower,The moss and the Lady fern.A Gray Friar staid upon the grave,And sang till the morning tide,And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul,While the Headless Cross shall bide.[#]

They shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig,

Beside the Headless Cross,

And they left him lying in his blood,

Upon the moor and moss.* * * * *

Upon the moor and moss.

* * * * *

They made a bier of the broken bough,

The sauch and the aspin gray,

And they bore him to the Lady Chapel,

And waked him there all day.

A lady came to that lonely bower,And threw her robes aside,She tore her long yellow hair,And knelt at Barthram's side.

A lady came to that lonely bower,

And threw her robes aside,

She tore her long yellow hair,

And knelt at Barthram's side.

She bathed him in the Lady-Well,His wounds so deep and sair,And she plaited a garland for his breast,And a garland for his hair.

She bathed him in the Lady-Well,

His wounds so deep and sair,

And she plaited a garland for his breast,

And a garland for his hair.

They rowed him in a lily-sheet,And bare him to his earth,And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass,As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.

They rowed him in a lily-sheet,

And bare him to his earth,

And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass,

As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.

They buried him at the mirk midnight,When the dew fell cold and still,When the aspin gray forgot to play,And the mist clung to the hill.

They buried him at the mirk midnight,

When the dew fell cold and still,

When the aspin gray forgot to play,

And the mist clung to the hill.

They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,By the edge of the Ninestone Burn,And they covered him o'er with the heather-flower,The moss and the Lady fern.

They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,

By the edge of the Ninestone Burn,

And they covered him o'er with the heather-flower,

The moss and the Lady fern.

A Gray Friar staid upon the grave,And sang till the morning tide,And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul,While the Headless Cross shall bide.[#]

A Gray Friar staid upon the grave,

And sang till the morning tide,

And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul,

While the Headless Cross shall bide.[#]

[#] Mr Surtees observes, on this passage, that in the return made by the commissioners, on the dissolution of Newminster Abbey, there is an item of a Chauntery, for one priest to sing dailyad crucem lapideam. Probably many of these crosses had the like expiatory solemnities for persons slain there. They certainly did bury, in former days, near the Ninestone Burn, for Sir Walter Scott found there, lying among the heather, a small monumental cross, with initials, which he reverently placed upright.

Chapter XXXII

Queen Mary and the Borders

The brief reign of Mary, Queen of Scots, was so crowded with incident that she was left with little time to visit the disturbed borderland of her kingdom. None-the-less her few visits to this district were fraught with important consequences. In 1565, when she married her cousin Lord Darnley, the head of the Douglas faction and a Roman Catholic, the Protestant nobles took up arms. In her very honeymoon she headed her soldiers, pursued the rebels to Dumfries, entered the town with a pistol in each hand, and laughed heartily at the fun of making her enemies "skip like rabbits" over the Border. She was only twenty-two years old—a fearless, dashing, attractive woman, with a clever head, a strong will, and a wild and lawless disposition.

In the next year she again visited the Border, but on a very different errand. Mary had developed an extreme fancy for that bold Border Lord, the Earl of Bothwell, whose Castle of Hermitage commanded the picturesque and important valley of the Liddel. The Queen had given him authority to control the fierce Borderers; and when the earl was riding out he met the most lawless of them, Jock Elliot, of whom the couplet—

"My name is little Jock ElliotAnd who dare meddle wi' me?"

"My name is little Jock Elliot

And who dare meddle wi' me?"

Bothwell fired straight at Elliot with his pistol, wounding him in the leg. Elliot aimed a mighty blow at Bothwell with his two-handed sword, giving the earl so sore a wound that he was glad enough to gallop home while there was yet time to save his life.

Mary was holding solemn court at Jedburgh when she heard of her favourite's danger. She straightway took horse and rode to Hermitage, a hard cross-country ride of twenty miles, through a district infested with reckless men. When she galloped back to Jedburgh, she was in high fever and nearly died. Later on, in the misery of her long imprisonment, she often said, "Would I had died at Jedburgh!" Years later, a broken piece of a silver spur was found at Queensmire, on this difficult and dangerous road, just where Queen Mary's horse was said to have come to grief.

Yet another time Queen Mary came to the Border, this time to cross it—after her imprisonment at Lochleven, her escape, and the disastrous rout of her followers at Langside. Daring and resourceful as ever, she fled across the Solway in an open boat; Scotland had failed her, she sought the protection of England. She landed at Cockermouth, and was led to Carlisle by Sir R. Lowther, and kept there, in reality a prisoner, while Elizabeth was musing of the dangers of the position. The Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland took up Mary's cause and attempted to rescue her, but the Warden of Carlisle, Lord Scroope, defended the town successfully against the two earls, and they were soon in flight, eastward for their very lives. After this attempt at rescue Mary was, for greater safety, sent down to Bolton Castle in Yorkshire.

[image]Queen Mary crossing the Solway

[image]

Queen Mary crossing the Solway

Leonard Dacre, a member of the powerful Cumberland family of the Dacres, seems to have played a treacherous part, first promising the earls his help, and then betraying them to Elizabeth. He seized Nawarth Castle, which properly belonged to his young niece, and collected together three thousand men to the old Border war-cry, "A Red Bull, a Red Bull!" (probably the nickname of some fierce red-haired Celtic champion). The defeated earls came to Nawarth for shelter, and Dacre refused to harbour them. But by this time Elizabeth was convinced of Dacre's treason, and ordered Lord Hudson, the Governor of Berwick, to arrest him.

Hudson appears to have marched by rather a round-about way, for Dacre met him at Geltbridge, on the west of Nawarth. A bridge is always a good point of vantage for meeting an enemy, especially when the river runs, as the Gelt does, through a deep and wooded gorge. The enemy has only a narrow way by which to approach, and no doubt Dacre posted his archers behind the trees and among the great rocks. The fight was a desperate one, but Hudson's men prevailed and pursued their foes far up the hill of Gelt, scuffling fiercely among the forest trees and dyeing a deeper hue the red sandstone cliffs and quarries.

All the rebels who could escape fled across the Border to Scotland, where the Borderers, who were till then their enemies, received them with that open and fair hospitality which was one of their many great qualities. Elizabeth demanded that the leading noblemen should be given up to her; but although the Scottish Regent, Murray, made a pretence of trying to secure the Earl of Westmoreland, the Scots had too much sense of honour to allow him to proceed.

The Earl of Northumberland, was however betrayed to the Scottish Regent by Hector Armstrong of Harelaw; but this the gallant Borderers held to be shameful, and Armstrong was a ruined man from that day forth.

Two years later, this Earl was actually sold to Elizabeth and beheaded at York. Thus ended this small rebellion, called in history the Rising of the North, but which is known locally in Cumberland as Dacre's Raid.

There is a little stream which rushes down a deep and beautiful glade to join the river Gelt above Geltbridge; this stream is known as "Hellbeck," and villagers tell us that the reason for this name is that it was stained with blood for two whole days after some battle that took place there. This battle is probably the one spoken of here.

A wicket gate by Geltbridge leads us to the path through Gelt woods. The noble gorge is deeply cleft through the grand red sandstone rocks. Below roars and dashes the impetuous river; the path winds, sometimes high, sometimes low, through wonderful weeds, carpeted with beautiful mosses, gemmed with delightful flowers. On one of the rocks is an inscription carved by a Roman soldier, over fifteen hundred years ago. Follow the river, up, up, till the little Hellbeck is seen trickling down from the east; cross the little bridge and follow the streamlet on its opposite bank, along a path so little trod as to be scarcely visible; wander among ferns along one of the loneliest glens in the whole of Britain, passing the great railway bridge (underif the stream be low oroverif it be high) till you join the main road again. There is no spot more beautiful or more peaceful. Yet this is the Hellbeck where men fought and hacked, and slashed and slew, among these woods, up and down these steep hillsides. These old trees, when young, have felt warm blood at their roots; and all because of a young, wild wilful queen, who fascinated men's hearts then, and the memory of whom fascinates them still.

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