Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower

"This fellow–where did you fall in with him?"

"He overtook me some twenty miles north, on the road to Glasgow."

"And are you travelling to Carlisle, too?" the man said to Oswald.

"Nay," he said, "I purpose not going beyond the border. I have lost my employment, and have tried, in vain, to find another as much to my liking. I have come south to seek service, with one who will welcome a strong arm to wield a sword."

"Hast tried the Douglas?"

"No," he said, "the Douglas has men enough of his own, and methinks I should not care to be mewed up in one of his castles. I have had enough of that already, seeing that I was a man-at-arms with George Dunbar, till he turned traitor and went over to the English."

"You look a likely fellow; but, you know, we do not pay men, here, to do our fighting for us. 'Tis all very well for great nobles, like Dunbar and Douglas, to keep men always in arms, and ready to ride, at a moment's notice, to carry fire and sword where they will. War is not our business, save when there is trouble in the air, or mayhap we run short of cattle or horses, and have to go and fetch them from across the border. It is true that there are always a score or two of us up there, for somehow the Bairds have enemies, but most of the followers of the house live on their holdings, raise cattle and mountain sheep, grow oats, and live as best they can."

"For myself, I would rather live with others," Oswald said. "I am used to it, and to live in a hut on the moors would in no way be to my fancy; and if I cannot get a place where I have comrades to talk to, and crack a joke with, I would rather cross the seas, take service with an Irish chieftain, or travel to Wales, where I hear men say there is fighting."

"You need not go very far, if it is fighting that you want," the man said. "Those who ride with the Bairds have their share, and more, of it. If you like to stop here a day or two, I will take an opportunity to talk to William Baird, or to one of his sons, if I find a chance; but I cannot take you up there, now. At the best of times they are not fond of visitors, and would be less so than usual, now."

Other armed men had come in, while the conversation was going on. No further attention was paid to the travellers. The others, sitting down at a table across the room, talked among themselves.

"I care not for the work," one said presently, raising his voice to a higher pitch than that in which the others had spoken. "Across the border, I am as ready for work as another; but when it comes to Scot against Scot, I like it not."

"Why, man," another said, "what qualms are these? Isn't Scot always fighting against Scot? Ay, and has been so, as far back as one has ever heard. It does not take much for a Douglas or a Dunbar to get to loggerheads; and as to the wild clans of the north, they are always fighting among themselves."

"Yes, that is all very well," the other said, "and there is no reason why neighbours should not quarrel, here; but I would rather that they each summoned their friends, and met in fair fight and had it out, than that one should pounce upon the other when not expected, and slay and burn unopposed."

"Ay, ay," two or three others of the men agreed. "It were doubtless better so, when it is Scot against Scot."

"'Tis border fashion," another put in. "There is no law on the border, and we fight in our own fashion. Today it is our turn, tomorrow it may be someone else's. We follow our chiefs, just as the northern clansmen do; and whether it is a Musgrave or a Baird, a Fenwick or an Armstrong, he is chief in his own hold, and cares neither for king nor earl, but fights out his quarrel as it may please him. I am one of William Baird's men, and his quarrel is mine; and whether we ride against the King of Scotland or the King of England, against a Douglas or a Percy, an Armstrong or a Musgrave, it matters not the value of a stoup of ale."

"That is so, Nigel, and so say we all. But methinks that one may have a preference for one sort of fighting over another; and I, myself, would rather fight a matter out, man against man, than fall suddenly on a hold, where none are ready to encounter us."

Roger, during a pause in the conversation at the other table, got up from his seat and stretched himself.

"Well, friend," he said to Oswald, "I will go up and see if they will make me welcome, at the hold. If they do, I may see you no more. If not, I shall return here to sleep. Therefore I bid you good day, and hope that you may find such service as will suit you. Benedicite!"

And, paying for his refreshment, Roger took his staff from the corner, and went out.

"A hearty fellow, and a stalwart one," the man who had spoken to him said. "I should not care to have a crack over the crown, with that staff of his. You met him coming down from the north, comrade?"

"Yes, some twenty miles away. It was near Moffat that I overtook him. I would rather drink with him than fight with him. Seldom have I seen a stronger-looking man."

"I am of your opinion, comrade; and some of these monks are not bad fighters, either. There have been bishops who have led the monks to battle, before now, and they proved themselves stout men-at-arms."

After the others had gone out, Oswald strolled through the village, and then mounted an eminence whence he could take a view across the valley, and of some of the hilltops to the northeast. On one of these, two miles away, he could make out a man standing by a horse. He watched him for some little time, but beyond taking a few steps backwards and forwards, the man did not move.

"He is a lookout," he said to himself, "and is no doubt watching some road from Kelso and Jedburgh. Baird will hardly think that the Armstrongs can have so soon gathered a force sufficient to attack him, but he may have thought it as well to place one of his men on the watch.

"I wonder how Roger is getting on! I think they must have taken him in, or he would have been back before this."

Roger had walked quietly up the hill on which the Bairds' hold was perched. A man stepped forward from the gate, as he neared it.

"None enter here," he said, "without permission from the master."

"Will you tell him that a poor monk, of the order of Saint Benedict, on his way from his convent at Dunbar to one near Carlisle, of which his brother is prior, prays hospitality for a day or two, seeing that he is worn out by long travel?"

The sentry spoke to a man behind him, and the latter took the message to William Baird. The latter was in a good humour. He himself had not taken part in the raid on the Armstrongs, which had been led by Thomas Baird, a cousin; but the fact that the latter had been entirely successful, and had burned down Armstrong's house, and brought back his daughters, had given him the greatest satisfaction. There was a long-standing feud between the two families, and the fact that the Armstrongs were on good terms with their English neighbours, and still more that one of them had married the sister-in-law of a Forster of Yardhope, had greatly embittered the feeling, on his side. He had long meditated striking a blow at them, and the present time had been exceptionally favourable.

Douglas had his hands full. He was on ill terms with Rothesay, whose conduct to his daughter had deeply offended him. The newly-acquired land of the Earl of March gave him much trouble. He was jealous of the great influence of Albany, at court; and was, moreover, making preparations for a serious raid into England. It was not likely, then, that he would pay any attention to the complaints the Armstrongs might make, of any attack upon them; especially as their aid was of small use to him, while the Bairds could, at any moment, join him, in an invasion across the border, with three hundred good fighting men.

William Baird had not, as yet, even considered what he should do with his captives. He might give them in marriage to some of the younger men of his family, or he might hold them as hostages. As to injuring them personally, he did not think of it. Slaughter in a raid was lightly regarded, but to ill-treat female prisoners would arouse a general feeling of dissatisfaction along the border. Reprisals might be made by the Armstrongs and their friends, and in any case, there would be such widespread reprobation excited, as William Baird, reckless as he was, could hardly afford to despise.

Therefore, when Roger's request was brought to him, he said at once:

"Take him up to Father Kenelm. Tell him to look after the monk's comfort. This evening he can bring him down to the hall, and I will question him as to his journey."

Roger followed the man through the courtyard. He paid, apparently, no attention to what was going on there, but a quick glance enabled him to perceive that the hold was full of men. He followed his guide up a winding stair, to a turret on the wall, the lower story of which was inhabited by the priest.

The soldier knocked at the door, and on its being opened by the priest, he gave Baird's message to him. He was a tall man, spare and bony. He himself was a Baird, and report said that, in his youth, he had ridden on many a foray in England. But fighting men were common in the family, and it had been thought well that one should enter the church, as it was always good to have a friend who could represent them there and, should any complaint be made, explain matters, and show that the family were in no wise to blame. And moreover, as it was necessary to have a priest at the chief fortalice of the family, it was best that it should be one who would not be too strict in his penances, and could be conveniently silent as to the doings within its walls.

The priest had accepted the role not unwillingly. He was an ambitious man, and saw that, as one of the fighting Bairds, there was but small opportunity of rising to aught beyond the command of one of the holds. Douglas regarded them with no friendly eye, for their breaches of the truces brought upon him constant complaints from the English wardens, who might, some day or other, lead a force to punish the family, which had been one of the few exempted from the general pardon, at the last truce. As a priest he would have better opportunities, for the Bairds had much influence along the border; and might, some day or other, exert it in his favour.

So far, no such opportunity had occurred. It had been a disappointment to him that Henry, in his last invasion, had kept along the eastern coast; and he hoped that the war, which assuredly would, ere long, break out violently, would give him the chance he longed for; and he might be sent by his uncle to Douglas, with offers of service, or might even go north, and have an interview with Albany.

Once fairly away from Liddesdale, he was resolved that it would be a long time, indeed, before he returned. He was now some thirty years of age, with a hard, keen face.

"Well, brother," he said, "it is not often that any of your order sojourn here. I am glad to have one with whom I can converse, of other matters than arms and armour, forays and wars."

"These matters are, indeed, too much in men's mouths," Roger said; "though I own that I, myself, in some degree am interested in them; for, had I had the choice of a vocation, I would rather have been a man-at-arms than a monk."

"I wonder not at that," the other said, "seeing that nature has been bountiful to you, in the matter of height and strength; and I doubt not that you could, in case of need, use that staff you carry with good effect."

"Methinks that I might do so, but happily none have molested me on my way, seeing perhaps that my wallet was not likely to be a full one; and that, mayhap, it was hardly worthwhile to meddle with me, with so small a prospect of plunder."

"But come in, and sit down," the priest said. "My uncle has consigned you to my care. We shall sup in half an hour."

"I shall not be sorry," Roger replied, "for though I broke my fast on black bread and small beer, down in the village, 'tis but poor nourishment for a man who has travelled far, and who has a large frame to support."

"But how come you to be here?"

Roger again repeated his story.

"It would have been shorter for you to have travelled down through Berwick, brother."

"The difference was not great," Roger replied; "and I had to carry a message to Edinburgh, and from there it was shorter to keep west of the Pentlands, and come down to Lanark, and thence through Moffat."

"Yes, I suppose it is as short. And you had no trouble on your way?"

Roger shook his head.

"No; I generally join some traveller or other, and that makes the journey pass all the quicker. I came down here today with a stout young fellow, who overtook me this side of Moffat. He was somewhat out at elbow, and I looked askance at him at first; but he turned out a blithe companion, and we got on well together. He could troll a good song, and my own voice is not wanting in power. It was curious that he also was from Dunbar, though not immediately; having, it would seem, wandered for some time, on the lookout for service."

"What was he, a cattle drover?"

"No, he had been a man-at-arms, of George of Dunbar–at least, so I understood–and when the earl fled, and Douglas took possession of Dunbar, he lost his living. He told me that he had made his way down here in hopes of finding employment on the border, where blows were common, and a good blade was of more use than it was farther north. I said that he might have found employment under Albany, or under some other great lord; but he said that he had seen the Earl of March a fugitive, and that he cared not to enter the service of another noble, who might, in turn, be ousted from his place and lose his life; but as for Albany, he thought, from what he heard, that he would rather serve him than any other master.

"I said, 'Why not Rothesay, who would be King of Scotland?'

"He laughed lightly, and said as Rothesay had managed to get upon ill friendship, not only with the Earl of March but with Douglas, and, as he heard, with Albany, he thought that his chances of becoming King of Scotland were not worth considering."

"He must be a bold varlet, thus to speak irreverently of great ones."

"I think not that he was bold," Roger said, "but only a merry, thoughtless young fellow, who in such company as mine let his tongue loose, and said what first came into his head. As to the matter, methought he spoke not without warrant."

"And he came from the north, now?"

"I know not whence he came last, but I think that he was at Edinburgh, and had taken service there, when the English king sat down before it; but, as you know, nought came of the siege."

At this moment a horn blew.

"There is supper," the priest said. "We will go down."

The meal was laid in the hall; which, however, was not large enough to contain more than the ordinary retainers of the hold. These, and the men who had come in at the summons of Baird, were provided for in the courtyard, the table being occupied entirely by members of the Baird family, and others who always acted with them. These had not yet taken their seats, when the priest entered with his companion, whom he at once took up to Sir William Baird.

"By Saint Andrew! Monk, I have seen no finer figure, for many a day. A pity that a monk's gown should clothe such limbs as yours."

"That has always been mine own opinion," Roger said, with a heartiness that raised a smile on the hard faces of the men standing round.

"You look as if you had carried arms."

"I did so, in my wild youth," Roger said, "and had no thought of ever donning monk's hood; but I was grievously wounded, in a foray in Northumberland, and when I reached my home at Lauder, I well nigh died of the fever of the wound; and I swore that, if my life was saved, I would become a monk. I got well, and I kept my vow; but methinks, had I but known how dull the life was, I would rather have died of the fever."

As this story was perfectly true, save the name of his birthplace, Roger spoke so heartily that no one doubted his story.

"And your monastery is at Dunbar?

"You have been at Dunbar, Rotherglen. Ask him where the convent stood."

As Roger had stayed there, when with Oswald he was at Dunbar, he was able to answer this, and other questions, satisfactorily. The party then took their places at table, the priest and Roger sitting at the bottom of it. The conversation at the upper end naturally turned on the foray, and a general disbelief was expressed, as to the chance of the Armstrongs retaliating.

"'Tis out of the question," one of the Bairds said, "they could not raise fifty men. Doubtless they will send a complaint to Douglas, but he has his hands well full; and is not likely to quarrel with us about such a trifle, when he may want our aid, at any moment, either against Albany or against the English."

"What do you intend to do with the girls?"

"I have not settled yet," William Baird said, shortly. "At any rate, for the present I shall hold them as hostages. I don't think that anything is likely to come of the affair; but if we should hear of any force approaching, likely to give us trouble, we could send word to them that, if an arrow is loosened at our walls, we will hang the girls out as marks for their archers. I fancy that will send them trooping off again, at once."

As soon as the meal was over, and the carousal began, the priest rose and, accompanied by Roger, retired to his chamber.

Chapter 13: Escape

Oswald, who was thoroughly fatigued with the events of the last thirty-six hours, slept soundly, on an armful of rushes that his host threw down in a corner of the room for him. At eight o'clock, the man who had spoken to him on the previous evening came in.

"I have spoken to William Baird," he said. "I told him that you seemed a likely fellow. He called down the monk, and asked him several questions about you; and he told me, at last, that I could bring you up to see him. So come along, at once."

"Thanks, comrade," Oswald said, as he slung his long two-handed sword from his shoulder.

"A likely-looking young fellow, indeed," Baird said to Rotherglen, whom he had sent for to be present; "over six feet and, I should fancy, has not attained his full width.

"So you would fain take service with me?" he said.

"I want a master," Oswald replied, "and from what I hear, I am more likely to see fighting, under you, than under any other on the border."

"And you were with George Dunbar?"

"I was," Oswald replied. "But indeed, the service was not altogether to my taste, for we were always pent up in Dunbar; and, save in a street broil, there was no need to draw a sword. I was glad enough to leave his service, though in truth, I have fared but badly, since."

"Now do you question him, Rotherglen."

A number of questions were put to Oswald, concerning the names of the streets, the direction, the name of the principal inns, and the approaches to the castle. All these were satisfactorily replied to.

"He knows Dunbar, there is no question about that.

"And you can use your arms?"

"I think so."

"We will have a trial," Baird said. "A man is no use to me, who cannot use his weapon. Send Robert here."

In a minute, one of the young Bairds entered. He was a man of about twenty-five, tall and sinewy, and was accounted the best swordsman of his family.

"Cousin Robert," William Baird said, "this young fellow would enter our service; but before I take him, I must see that he knows his business. Do you take a turn with the sword with him.

"No, no, not a two-handed sword; I don't want him to be slain. Take a couple of swords from the wall. Give him another steel cap, and full body armour. That of his own would not keep out a good, downright stroke."

By the time that Oswald was armed, a number of the Bairds and their friends had assembled in the hall, hearing of what was going to take place.

"A fine young fellow, truly," Rotherglen said. "In height and width, he matches Robert well, though of course your cousin must be the more powerful, seeing that he is some four or five years older than this young fellow; who, when he reaches his age, bids fair to be well-nigh as strong a man as that monk."

Roger had just entered, with the priest.

"Well, monk," Baird said, "we are going to try the mettle of your companion of yesterday."

"I answer not for his mettle," Roger said; "but if he fights as well as he talks, he will not do discredit to himself."

As they took their places, facing each other, the lookers on, men well qualified to judge of strength and sinew, murmured to each other that it would be difficult to find a better-matched pair. They were about the same height, both stood lightly on their feet, and their figures seemed full of life and activity. Both were smiling, Robert Baird with a smile of confidence, and of assurance in his skill; while Oswald's face expressed only good temper and, as the others took it, a belief that he would, at any rate, be able to make such a defence as would assure his being taken into the Bairds' service.

The first rally, indeed, proved more than this. Robert Baird had at once taken the offensive, and showered his blows heavily down, while springing backwards and forwards with wonderful quickness and activity; but Oswald's blade ever met his, and he did not give way an inch, even when Baird most fiercely attacked him. Then suddenly he adopted the same tactics as his opponent, and pressed him so hotly that he was, several times, obliged to give ground. Oswald could twice have got in a heavy blow, but he abstained from doing so. He could see that his antagonist was a favourite among his kinsmen, and felt that, were he to discomfit him, he would excite a feeling of hostility against himself. Both, panting from their exertions, drew a step backwards and lowered their swords.

"Enough!" William Baird said, "The matter need be pushed no further. 'Tis long since I have seen so good a bout of swordplay. This young fellow has learned his business, and if, in other respects, he does as well, he will make a good recruit, indeed.

"What say you, lad? Will you join us for a month, till you see whether you like our service, and we can judge how your service will suit us? For that time you will have your living here, and drink money. After that, if we agree, you can either be a retainer here, or we will give you a holding on the moor, build you a shelter, give you a horse, and, after our next foray, a clump of cattle."

"That will suit me well," Oswald said; "and I like well the month of trial you propose."

"I will take him, if you will let me, Uncle, as my own man," Robert Baird said. "If, at the end of the month, he chooses service with us, and likes better to follow a master, with half a dozen men, than to live alone on the moors. Methinks he would make a cheery companion, and one I could take to, heartily; and indeed, during the long winters, 'tis no slight thing to have one merry fellow, who can keep one alive, and of whose mettle and skill you are well assured."

"So let it be, then, Robert. You have tried him, and yours should be the advantage. But for the month he shall remain here, under Malcolm's eye."

Oswald went down with the man, who was Baird's right hand in the hold.

"What will be my duties?" he asked.

"To keep your arms and armour ready for service."

"That will be an easy task, methinks; for I see that instead of being polished and bright, as were ours at Dunbar, the others keep their steel caps and back pieces painted a sombre colour."

The other nodded.

"Yes, our arms are for use and not for show; and when we ride by moonlight, we care not to have our presence shown, miles away, by the glint of the moon on our armour.

"You will do your turn of keeping watch and ward. Just at present there will be a good deal of that, for we have been stirring up a wasps' nest, and mayhap they may come and try to sting. When you are off duty, you will be your own master, save that you had best be within sound of the warder's horn.

"I will hand over a horse to you. For the present, it is at that croft on the opposite hill. Each of the tenants keeps two or three at our service. We have only the Bairds' own horses kept in the hold. It would be too much trouble to gather forage for those of the twenty men who always live here, and indeed, we have no room for such number.