In Freedom's Cause : A Story of Wallace and Bruce

by G. A. Henty

  Chapter XXIII

  The Escape from Berwick

  On entering the castle Archie was at once conducted to a sort ofcage which had been constructed for a previous prisoner. On theoutside of a small cell a framework of stout beams had been erected.It was seven feet in height, six feet wide, and three feet deep.The bars were four inches round, and six inches apart. There wasa door leading into the cell behind. This was closed in the daytime,so that the prisoner remained in the cage in sight of passersby,but at night the governor, who was a humane man, allowed the doorto remain unlocked, so that the prisoner could enter the inner celland lie down there.

  The position of the cage was about twenty-five feet above themoat. The moat itself was some forty feet wide, and a public pathran along the other side, and people passing here had a full viewof the prisoner. There were still many of Scottish birth in thetown in spite of the efforts which Edward had made to convert itinto a complete English colony, and although the English were inthe majority, Archie was subject to but little insult or annoyance.Although for the present in English possession, Berwick had alwaysbeen a Scotch town, and might yet again from the fortune of warfall into Scottish hands. Therefore even those most hostile to themfelt that it would be prudent to restrain from any demonstrationsagainst the Scottish prisoners, since in the event of the cityagain changing hands a bloody retaliation might be dealt them.Occasionally a passing boy would shout out an epithet of contemptor hatred or throw a stone at the prisoner, but such trifles wereunheeded by him. More often men or women passing would stop andgaze up at him with pitying looks, and would go away wiping theireyes.

  Archie, after the first careful examination of his cell, at onceabandoned any idea of escape from it. The massive bars would havedefied the strength of twenty men, and he had no instrument of anysort with which he could cut them. There was, he felt, nothingbefore him but death; and although he feared this little forhimself, he felt sad indeed as he thought of the grief of Marjoryand his mother.

  The days passed slowly. Five had gone without an incident, and buttwo remained, for he knew that there was no chance of any changein the sentence which Edward had passed, even were his son moredisposed than he toward merciful measures to the Scots, which Archiehad no warrant for supposing. The new king's time would be tooclosely engaged in the affairs entailed by his accession to rank,the arrangement of his father's funeral, and the details of thearmy advancing against Scotland, to give a thought to the prisonerwhose fate had been determined by his father.

  Absorbed in his own thoughts Archie seldom looked across the moat,and paid no heed to those who passed or who paused to look at him.

  On the afternoon of the fifth day, however, his eye was caught bytwo women who were gazing up at the cage. It was the immobility oftheir attitude and the length of time which they continued to gazeat him, which attracted his attention.

  In a moment he started violently and almost gave a cry, for inone of them he recognized his wife, Marjory. The instant that thewomen saw that he had observed them they turned away and walkedcarelessly and slowly along the road. Archie could hardly believethat his eyesight had not deceived him. It seemed impossible thatMarjory, whom he deemed a hundred miles away, in his castle atAberfilly, should be here in the town of Berwick, and yet when hethought it over he saw that it might well be so. There was indeedample time for her to have made the journey two or three times whilehe had been lying in prison at Port Patrick awaiting a ship. Shewould be sure, when the news reached her of his capture, that hewould be taken to Edward at Carlisle, and that he would be eitherexecuted there or at Berwick. It was then by no means impossible,strange and wondrous as it appeared to him, that Marjory should bein Berwick.

  She was attired in the garment of a peasant woman of the betterclass, such as the wife of a small crofter or farmer, and rememberinghow she had saved his life before at Dunstaffnage, Archie felt thatshe had come hither to try to rescue him.

  Archie's heart beat with delight and his eyes filled with tears atthe devotion and courage of Marjory, and for the first time sincehe had been hurried into the boat on the night of his capture afeeling of hope entered his breast. Momentary as the glance hadbeen which he had obtained of the face of Marjory's companion,Archie had perceived that it was in some way familiar to him. Invain he recalled the features of the various servants at Aberfilly,and those of the wives and daughters of the retainers of the estate;he could not recognize the face of the woman accompanying Marjoryas belonging to any of them. His wife might, indeed, have broughtwith her some one from the estates at Ayr whom she had known froma child, but in that case Archie could not account for his knowledgeof her. This, however, did not occupy his mind many minutes; itwas assuredly one whom Marjory trusted, and that was sufficientfor him. Then his thoughts turned wholly to his wife.

  Any one who had noticed the prisoner's demeanor for the last fewdays would have been struck with the change which had come overit. Hitherto he had stood often for hours leaning motionless, withhis arms crossed, in the corner of his cage, with head bent down andlistless air, his thoughts only being busy; now he paced restlesslyup and down his narrow limits, two steps each way and then a turn,like a caged beast; his hands were clenched, his breast heaved,his breath came fast, his head was thrown back, often he brushedhis hand across his eyes, and rapid words came from his lips.

  The sun sank. An hour later a jailer brought his jug of water andpiece of bread, and then, without a word, retired, leaving, as usual,the door into the cell open, but carefully locking and barring theinner door. Archie had a longer walk now, from the front of thecage to the back of the cell, and for three hours he paced up anddown. Sometimes he paused and listened attentively. The sounds inthe town gradually died away and all became still, save that hecould hear the calls of the warder on the battlement above him.The night was a very dark one and he could scarcely make out thegleam of water in the moat below.

  Suddenly something struck him a sharp blow on the face and fell athis feet. He stooped and picked it up, it was an arrow with a wadof wool fastened round its point to prevent it from making a noiseshould it strike the wall or cage; to the other end was attached apiece of string. Archie drew it in until he felt that it was heldfirmly, then after a moment the hold relaxed somewhat, and thestring again yielded as he drew it. It was now, he felt, taut fromthe other side of the moat. Presently a stout rope, amply sufficientto bear his weight, came into his hands. At the point of junctionwas attached some object done up in flannel. This he opened, andfound that it was a fine saw and a small bottle containing oil. Hefastened the rope securely to one of the bars and at once commencedto saw asunder one of the others. In five minutes two cuts hadbeen noiselessly made, and a portion of the bar five feet long cameaway. He now tried the rope and found that it was tightly stretched,and evidently fixed to some object on the other side of the moat.He grasped it firmly with his arms and legs and slid rapidly downit.

  In another minute he was grasped by some strong arms which checkedhis rapid progress and enabled him to gain his feet without theslightest noise. As he did so a woman threw her arms round him,and he exchanged a passionate but silent embrace with Marjory. Thenshe took his hand and with noiseless steps they proceeded down theroad. He had before starting removed his shoes and put them in hispockets. Marjory and her companion had also removed their shoes,and even the keenest ears upon the battlements would have heardno sound as they proceeded along the road. Fifty yards farther andthey were among the houses. Here they stopped a minute and put ontheir shoes, and then continued their way. Not a word was spokenuntil they had traversed several streets and stopped at the doorof a house in a quiet lane; it yielded to Marjory's touch, she andArchie entered, and their follower closed and fastened it afterthem.

  The moment this was done Marjory threw her arms round Archie's neckwith a burst of tears of joy and relief. While Archie was soothingher the third person stirred up the embers on the hearth and threwon a handful of dry wood.

  "And who is your comp
anion?" Archie asked, after the first transportsof joy and thankfulness were past.

  "What! don't you recognize Cluny?" Marjory asked, laughing throughher tears.

  "Cluny! of course," Archie exclaimed, grasping his follower's handin his. "I only caught a glimpse of your face and knew that it wasfamiliar to me, but in vain tried to recall its owner. Why, Cluny,it is a long time since you went dressed as a girl into Ayr! Andso it is my good friend who had shared my wife's dangers."

  "He has done more than that, Archie," Marjory said, "for it wasto him that I owe my first idea of coming here. The moment afterthe castle was taken and it was found that you had been carriedoff in a boat by the English, Cluny started to tell me the news.Your mother and I were beside ourselves with grief, and Cluny, tocomfort us, said, 'Do not despair yet, my lady; my lord shall notbe killed by the English if I can prevent it. The master and Ihave been in a good many dangers, and have always come out of themsafe; it shall not be my fault if he does not slip through theirhands yet.' 'Why, what can you do, Cluny?' I said. 'I don't knowwhat I can do yet,' he replied; 'that must depend upon circumstances.My lord is sure to be taken to Carlisle, and I shall go south tosee if I cannot get him out of prison. I have often gone among theEnglish garrisons disguised as a woman, and no one in Carlisle islikely to ask me my business there.' It was plain to me at once thatif Cluny could go to your aid, so could I, and I at once told himthat I should accompany him. Cluny raised all sorts of objections,but to these I would not listen, but brought him to my will by saying,that if he thought my being with him would add to his difficultiesI would go alone, but that go I certainly would. So without moreado we got these dresses and made south. We had a few narrowescapes of falling into the hands of parties of English, but at lastwe crossed the frontier and made to Carlisle. Three days later weheard of your arrival, and the next morning all men were talkingabout your defiance of the king, and that you had been sent to Berwickfor execution at the end of the week. So we journeyed hither andgot here the day after you arrived. The first step was to finda Scotchwoman whom we might trust. This, by great luck, we did,and Mary Martin, who lives in this house, is a true Scotchwoman,and will help us to the extent of her power; she is poor, for herhusband, who is an Englishman, had for some time been ill, and diedbut yesterday. He was, by what she says, a hard man and cruel, andhis death is no grief to her, and Mary will, if she can, returnwith her daughter to Roxburgh, where her relations live, and whereshe married her husband, who was a soldier in the English garrisonthere."

  "But, Marjory," Archie said, "have you thought how we are to escapehence; though I am free from the castle I am still within the wallsof Berwick, and when, tomorrow, they find that I have escaped, theywill search every nook and corner of the town. I had best withoutdelay try and make my way over the walls."

  "That was the plan Cluny and I first thought of," Marjory replied;"but owing to the raids of the Douglas on the border, so stricta watch is kept on the walls that it would be difficult indeed topass. Cluny has tried a dozen times each night, but the watch isso vigilant that he has each time failed to make his way past them,but has been challenged and has had several arrows discharged athim. The guard at the gates is extremely strict, and all carts thatpass in and out are searched. Could you have tried to pass beforeyour escape was known you might no doubt have done so in disguise,but the alarm will be given before the gates are open in the morning,and your chance of passing through undetected then would be smallindeed. The death of the man Martin suggested a plan to me. Ihave proposed it to his wife, and she has fallen in with it. Ihave promised her a pension for her life should we succeed, but Ibelieve she would have done it even without reward, for she is atrue Scotchwoman. When she heard who it was that I was trying torescue, she said at once she would risk anything to save the lifeof one of Scotland's best and bravest champions; while, on the otherhand, she cares not enough for her husband to offer any objectionto my plans for the disposal of his body."

  "But what are your plans, Marjory?"

  "All the neighbours know that Martin is dead; they believe that Clunyis Mary's sister and I her niece, and she has told them that sheshall return with us to Roxburgh. Martin was a native of a villagefour miles hence, and she is going to bury him with his fathersthere. Now I have proposed to her that Martin shall be buriedbeneath the wood store here, and that you shall take his place inthe coffin."

  "It is a capital idea, Marjory," Archie said, "and will assuredlysucceed if any plan can do so. The only fear is that the searchwill be so hot in the morning that the soldiers may even insistupon looking into the coffin."

  "We have thought of that," Marjory said, "and dare not risk it.We must expect every house to be searched in the morning, and haveremoved some tiles in the attic. At daybreak you must creep outon the roof, replace the tiles, and remain hidden there until thesearch is over. Martin will be laid in the coffin. Thus, evenshould they lift the lid, no harm will come of it. Directly theyhave gone, Cluny will bring you down, and you and he dig the gravein the floor of the woodshed and place Martin there, then youwill take his place in the coffin, which will be placed in a cartalready hired, and Cluny, I, Mrs. Martin, and her daughter willthen set out with it."

  Soon after daybreak the quick strokes of the alarm bell at thecastle told the inhabitants of Berwick that a prisoner had escaped.Archie at once betook himself to his place of concealment on theroof. He replaced the tiles, and Cluny carefully obliterated allsigns of the place of exit from within. A great hubbub had bythis time arisen in the street. Trumpets were blowing, and partiesof soldiers moving about in all directions. The gates remainedunopened, orders being given that none should pass through withouta special order from the governor.

  The sentries on the wall were doubled, and then a house to housesearch was commenced, every possible place of concealment beingrummaged from basement to attic. Presently the searchers entered thelane in which Mrs. Martin lived. The latch was ere long lifted,and a sergeant and six soldiers burst into the room. The sightwhich they beheld quieted their first noisy exclamations. Fourwomen in deep mourning were kneeling by a rough coffin placed ontrestles. One of them gave a faint scream as they entered, and MaryMartin, rising to her feet, said:

  "What means this rough intrusion?"

  "It means," the sergeant said, "that a prisoner has escaped fromthe castle, one Archibald Forbes, a pestilent Scotch traitor. Hehas been aided by friends from without, and as the sentries werewatchful all night, he must be hidden somewhere in the town, andevery house is to be searched."

  "You can search if you will," the woman said, resuming the positionon her knees. "As you see, this is a house of mourning, seeingthat my husband is dead, and is today to be buried in his nativevillage, three miles away."

  "He won't be buried today," the sergeant said; "for the gates arenot to be opened save by a special order from the governor. Now,lads," he went on, turning to the men, "search the place from topto bottom, examine all the cupboards and sound the floors, turn overall the wood in the shed, and leave not a single place unsearchedwhere a mouse could be hid."

  The soldiers scattered through the house, and were soon heardknocking the scanty furniture about and sounding the floors andwalls. At last they returned saying that nothing was to be found.

  "And now," the sergeant said, "I must have a look in that coffin.Who knows but what the traitor Scot may be hid in there!"

  Mrs. Martin leaped to her feet.

  "You shall not touch the coffin," she said; "I will not have theremains of my husband disturbed." The sergeant pushed her roughlyaside, and with the end of his pike prised up the lid of the coffin,while Mrs. Martin and the other three mourners screamed lustilyand wrung their hands in the greatest grief at this desecration ofthe dead.

  Just as the sergeant opened the coffin and satisfied himself thata dead man really lay within, an officer, attracted by the screams,entered the room.

  "What is this, sergeant?" he asked angrily. "The orders were tosearch the house, but none w
ere given you to trouble the inmates."

  Mrs. Martin began volubly to complain of the conduct of the soldiersin wrenching open the coffin.

  "It was a necessary duty, my good woman," the officer said, "seeingthat a living man might have been carried away instead of a deadone; however, I see all is right."

  "Oh, kind sir!" Mrs. Martin said, sobbing, "is it true what thisman tells me, that there is no passage through the gates today? Ihave hired a cart to take away my husband's body; the grave is dug,and the priest will be waiting. Kind sir, I pray of you to get mea pass to sally out with it, together with my daughter, sister,and niece."

  "Very well," the officer said kindly, "I will do as you wish. Ishall be seeing the governor presently to make my report to him;and as I have myself seen the dead body can vouch that no ruseis intended. But assuredly no pass will be given for any man toaccompany you; and the Scot, who is a head and shoulders tallerthan any of you, would scarcely slip out in a woman's garment. Whenwill the cart be here?"

  "At noon," the woman replied.

  "Very well; an hour before that time a soldier will bring out thepass. Now, sergeant, have you searched the rest of the house?"

  "Yes, sir; thoroughly, and nothing suspicious has been found."

  "Draw off your men, then, and proceed, with your search elsewhere."

  No sooner had the officer and men departed than Cluny ran upstairs,and removing two of the tiles, whispered to Archie that all wasclear. The hole was soon enlarged, and Archie re-entering, the pairdescended to the woodshed which adjoined the kitchen, and there,with a spade and mattock which Cluny had purchased on the precedingday, they set to work to dig a grave. In two hours it was completed.The body of John Martin was lowered into it, the earth replacedand trodden down hard, and the wood again piled on to it.

  At eleven o'clock a soldier entered with the governor's passordering the soldier at the gate to allow a cart with the body ofJohn Martin, accompanied by four women, to pass out from the town.

  At the appointed time the cart arrived. Archie now took his placein the coffin. His face was whitened, and a winding sheet wrappedround him, lest by an evil chance any should insist on againlooking into the coffin. Then some neighbours came in and assistedin placing the coffin in the cart. The driver took his place besideit, and the four women, with their hoods drawn over their heads,fell in behind it weeping bitterly.

  When they arrived at the gate the officer in charge carefully readthe order, and then gave the order for the gate to be opened. "Butstop," he said, "this pass says nothing about a driver, and thoughthis man in no way resembles the description of the doughty Scot,yet as he is not named in the pass I cannot let him pass." Therewas a moment's pause of consternation, and then Cluny said:

  "Sister Mary, I will lead the horse. When all is in readiness, andthe priest waits, we cannot turn back on such a slight cause." Asthe driver of the cart knew Mary Martin, he offered no objection,and descended from his seat. Cluny took the reins, and, walking bythe side of the horse's head, led him through the gates as thesewere opened, the others following behind. As soon as they werethrough, the gate closed behind them, and they were safely out ofthe town of Berwick.

  So long as they were within sight of the walls they proceeded ata slow pace without change of position, and although Cluny thenquickened the steps of his horse, no other change was made until twomiles further they reached a wood. Then Cluny leapt into the cartand wrenched off the lid of the coffin. It had been but lightlynailed down, and being but roughly made there were plenty of crevicesthrough which the air could pass.

  "Quick, Sir Archie!" he said, "let us get this thing out of thecart before any person happen to come along."

  The coffin was lifted from the cart, and carried some shortdistance into the wood. A few vigorous kicks separated the plankswhich composed it. These were taken and thrust separately amongbushes at some little distance from each other. Cluny then unrolledthe bundle which he had brought from the cart, and handed to Archiea suit of clothes fitted for a farmer. These Archie quickly puton, then he returned to the cart, which he mounted, and took thereins. The others got up behind him and seated themselves on thestraw in the bottom of the cart. Then Archie gave the horse a smartcut with his whip, and the cart proceeded at a steady trot alongthe road to the west.