*CHAPTER X*
*THE FIELD MEETING*
A week passed uneventfully. Each night I joined my friend and the gladnotes of his flute were still our signal: each morning we parted tosleep through the daylight hours each in his own hiding-place.
I was strangely attracted by this old man. He was a gentle spirit,quick to take offence, often when none was meant, but equally quick toforget. He had a quaint humour, flashes of which lightened our converseas we walked together in the night, and he had all the confidence of alittle child in the abiding love of God. As I parted with him onemorning, he said:
"I doubt you'll no' ken what day of the week this is."
I was quick to confess my ignorance.
"Well," he said, "it is Saturday, and ye'll no' hear me playing thenicht. On such a nicht one is too near the threshold of the Sabbath daylichtly to engage in sic a worldly amusement. However, if ye'll comeround to my side of the loch about the usual time, we'll tak' a bite o'supper together--after that ye'd better leave me to my meditations inview of the Lord's Day, for I am preaching the morn."
"In which church, may I ask?" I said, forgetting for a moment where Iwas.
"In the kirk of the moorland," he answered, "which has no roof but God'sheaven, and no altar but the loving hearts of men and women!"
A sudden desire sprang up in my heart. "Sir," I said, hesitatingly, "Ido not consider myself worthy, but I should count it a high honour if Imay come with you."
He paused before he answered: "The House is the Lord's, He turns no manfrom His door: come, an you wish it." Then he laughed, and looking meup and down said: "Man, but you're an awfu' sicht if you are coming. Yewadna like to appear before Lag in sic unsoldierly trappings: daur yeface God?" Then he laid a hand on my shoulder, and looking into my facewith his piercing eyes, said: "The Lord tak's nae pleasure in the lookso' a man, and belike he pays little heed to claes or the beggar at therich man's gate wouldna have had much of a chance; it is the heart thatcounts, my lad, it is the heart, and a contrite heart He will notdespise." Then he gripped me by the hand, and said: "Awa to your bedand come an' look for me by and by, and syne we'll set out for the kirk.It is a long road to travel and ye'll need a good rest before we start."
So I left him and made my way back to my own side of the loch. There Iundressed and looked ruefully at my mud-bespattered garments. Theycertainly were far from that soldierly spotlessness of which I had beenso proud when first I donned them. But the mud on them was quite dry,so I made a heather brush, and brushed them well. Then I took them downto the loch-side and washed out some of the more obstinate stains, thenlaying them to dry among the brackens I sought my bed.
When I awoke night had fallen, so, leaving my hiding place, I sought mygarments and put them on.
I judged that it must be nearly ten o'clock as I went round the head ofthe loch to seek my friend. I found him awaiting me at ourtrysting-place and we ate our meal in silence. When we had finished, hesaid: "Wait for me here; I will come again ere long," and disappearedinto the darkness. I sat in the starlit silence watching the moon'sfitful light move upon the face of the waters. Many thoughts passedthrough my mind. I wondered what reception I, in a trooper's uniform,would receive at the hands of the hill-men whom I was shortly to meet.Would the guarantee of the minister be credential sufficient: then adoubt assailed me. I knew that as a deserter I was under penalty ofdeath--but even a deserter, if captured, might still be pardoned; but tohave, as a further charge in the indictment against him, that ofconsorting with proscribed hill-men and taking part in a Conventiclewould rob me of the last chance of pardon if I should ever fall into thehands of my pursuers. For a moment I was tempted to withdraw from thisnew adventure. Then I spurned myself for a coward. I owed my life tothe friendliness of this old man, who daily gave me so ungrudgingly ofhis store, and I felt that it would be base and ungrateful to withdrawnow, since, after all, the invitation to accompany him was of my ownseeking.
The moments passed slowly, and I judged that more than an hour hadelapsed since he left me. I began to grow uneasy. Had he lost me inthe dark, or had he judged me unworthy to accompany him, and gone offalone? I rose to my feet, determined to make a search for him, when Iheard the rustle of his footsteps, and in a moment he was beside me.
"Did you think I wasna comin' back?" he queried. "I have just beenwrestling with a point o' doctrine; but I've got the truth o't now.Come!" and he set out along the hill-side.
He walked slowly, absorbed in deep meditation. I followed close on hisheels, seeking to make sure of my footsteps by keeping as near him aspossible. He seemed in no mood to talk, and I held my tongue.
When we had walked for two hours, he stopped suddenly and said: "We arehalf-way there now. I think that we might take a rest," and he sat downon a hummock on the hill-side.
I sat down beside him, and more by way of breaking the silence than fromany special desire to talk--for I had little to say, I remarked: "What abeautiful night!"
He grunted, and in spite of the darkness I could see him shrug hisshoulders with displeasure.
"Wheesht, man," he said. "This is nae time to speak about sic things.Have ye forgotten it is the Sabbath day?"
I was unprepared for such a rebuff, and a hot reply sprang to my lips,but I felt unwilling to hurt his feelings, so I held my tongue.
He sat with his knees drawn up towards his chin, his clasped handsholding them, and his eyes fixed on the distance.
I stretched myself lazily upon the hill-side and awaited his pleasure.
We rested for a long time, and then, as the eastern sky began to breakinto light, he rose to his feet and saying, "It is time to go on," heset out again. I followed close behind him as before. He walked withhis hands clasped behind his back, his two thumbs revolving ceaselesslyround each other.
Out of the ebb of night, day rose like a goddess. Before me was beautyunspeakable. The moorland was covered by a thin vale of mist. Here andthere, where the sun was reflected from it, it shone like silver, andwhere some mischievous hill-wind had torn a rent in it, a splash ofbrown heath or a tussock of purple heather broke colouringly through.The world was waking up from its slumber. A hare, startled, sprangalong the hill-side before us--its ears acock, its body zig-zagging asthough to evade some apprehended missile. The whaups called to eachother mournfully, and, high above us, unseen, a lark poured out its soulin sparkling song.
I was beginning to wonder when we should arrive at our destination, whenmy companion turned suddenly to the left and walked downhill into thevalley. Here, for a time, we followed what had been the bed of anancient stream, long since dried up, until we came to a cleft betweenthe hills which gradually widened out into a kind of amphitheatre.Almost for the first time since we had left our hiding-place, mycompanion spoke.
"This is the trysting-place," he said. "The folk will be here ere long.I'll leave ye while I complete my preparations," and saying "Rest ye,"he walked on through the amphitheatre and disappeared.
I stretched myself upon my back and drew my bonnet over my eyes. I knownot how long I lay thus, but suddenly I was conscious that someone wasstanding beside me, and opening my eyes I saw the minister at my side.
"They are beginning to come," he said, as he looked out through thecleft by which we had entered the hollow. My gaze followed his, and Isaw at some distance a man of middle age, followed by two younger men,coming in single file towards us. My companion left me and hurried tomeet them. I saw him approach the eldest with outstretched hand whichwas taken and shaken vigorously; then he greeted the two younger men,and the four stood, a little knot in the morning light, talkingearnestly.
From glances that were cast from time to time in my direction, I knewthey were talking of me. The colloquy lasted for some time. My friendwas apparently vouching for my trustworthiness with many protestations,for I could see him strike the palm of his left hand with his clenchedright fist. At last the minis
ter and the elder man came towards me.The two younger men separated, one climbing to the top of the ridge onone side of the amphitheatre and the other ascending the slope upon itsother side.
I surmised that these two younger men were to play the part of sentinelsto give timely warning, if need arose, of the coming of the dreadedtroopers. They had no weapons but shepherd's crooks.
As the two elder men approached me, I rose, and as they drew nearer Iheard my friend still pleading for me. "I believe that, at heart, he isno' a bad young man, but being English, his opportunities have been few,and he is strangely lacking in a knowledge o' the fundamentals, but I amhoping that he may yet prove to be a brand plucked from the burning."
With difficulty I restrained a smile, but I took a step towards themand, bowing to my friend's companion who stood straight-backed andstalwart before me, I said: "My uniform is but a poor passport to yourtrust, but the heart beneath it is not a false heart and none of yourpeople need fear ill from me."
The old man offered me his hand. "Young man," he said, "I hae littlecause to trust your coat, but if your creedentials satisfy themeenister, they're guid enough for Tammas Frazer."
"That's richt, Thomas!" cried the minister, "that's richt. As the Buiksays: 'Charity suffereth long and is kind'!"
We stood silent for an embarrassed moment, until the hill-man said: "Andnoo, Meenister, ye'll gi'e us a word afore I set the kirk in order," andlifting their bonnets the two men closed their eyes.
I followed their example, and then the minister lifted up his voice and,in tones of pathetic earnestness, besought the blessing of God upon allthe doings of the day; sought, too, for divine protection for all who atthe hazard of their lives should come to worship there that Sabbathmorning.
When the prayer was over, Thomas turned to me, and said: "You are alikely young man and a hefty; we had better leave the man o' God to hismeditations. Come and lend me a hand."
For a moment I was at a loss to understand what he meant, but I followedhim, and when he picked up a small boulder I did likewise and togetherwe carried the stones to the sloping hillside and arranged them at shortintervals from each other. Altogether we gathered some thirty or fortystones, which we set in semi-circular rows. Opposite to these, on theother side of the amphitheatre, we built a little mound of boulders andlaid upon the top of it a great flat rock. This was to be thepreacher's pulpit, and I was struck with the care that Thomas devoted toits building. When it was finished he stood upon it and tested it.Satisfied, he descended from it, saying: "It'll dae fine. There'snaething like a guid foundation for a sermon," and in his austere eyes alight flickered.
By this time other worshippers had begun to gather and were thronginground the minister in little clusters. From the looks cast in mydirection I knew that I was the object of more than one inquiry, andwhile my recent companion went forward to greet some other of theworshippers, I hung back a little shamefacedly. Seeing my hesitation theminister beckoned me, and when I came near he placed a hand upon myshoulder and said:
"My friends, here is the prodigal. He has eaten of the husks of theswine, but, I think, he has at last set his foot on the road to hisFather's house."
It was a strange introduction, received in silence by the little group,and with a mounting colour I looked at the people and they looked at me.There was a glint of challenge in the eyes of some of the men and a hintof suspicion in others. The older women looked at me with something Itook for pity; the younger ones pretended not to look at all. Thesilence was embarrassing, but it was broken by the minister who said:
"And now, my friends, it is time to begin our service. Will you takeyour places?" and turning to me he said, "Young man, I think ye'd bettercome and sit near the pulpit, where I can see that ye behave yersel'!"
In silence, and with a demure sobriety as though they were crossing thethreshold of a holy place, they stepped across the dip in theamphitheatre and seated themselves upon the stones laid ready for them.I walked behind the minister towards his pulpit. A couple of paces fromit he stopped and raised his right hand high above his head. On the topof the hill that faced us I saw one of the sentinels spring erect andhold his hand aloft, and turning, we saw that the sentinel on the otherhill top had made a like signal. It was a sign that all was well, andthat the service might safely begin.
The minister mounted his pulpit and I sat down a little below it. In avoice which rang melodiously through the silence he said: "Let usworship God by singing to His praise the 121st psalm." He read thepsalm from beginning to end and then the congregation, still sitting,took up the refrain and sang slowly the confident words. It was a psalmwhich to these hill-folk must have been charged with many memories.
There was more of earnestness than of melody in the singing, butsuddenly I was aware of one voice that sounded clear and bell-like amongthe jumble of raucous notes. My ears guided my eyes and I was able topick the singer out.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 10
