*CHAPTER XXXV*
*WITHIN SIGHT OF ST. GILES*
The old woman closed the door, and lighting a candle led me to a roomand left me. I found that the bed was all that she had claimed for it;and after my many months of fitful sleep on my bracken couch on the hardfloor of the cave, and my weary journey, this mattress of chaff, intowhich I sank as soon as I lay down, seemed a couch for a king. As Iturned over on my side and composed myself to sleep, I had but oneregret. Weary as I found myself, it would be impossible for me to getback to the cave in time for the great Conventicle which was to be heldamong the Closeburn hills upon the coming Sabbath.
My sleep was dreamless, and when I awoke the torch of the sun wasblazing outside my narrow window. Having dressed myself, I made for thekitchen, where I found the good-wife busy over the fire. She turned asshe heard my footsteps and asked:
"Are ye weel rested? Ye maun be, for ye've sleepit the better pairt o'twal 'oors. I knocked at your door at ten o'clock; syne I tappit againat half-eleeven, but for a' the answer ye gi'ed, ye micht ha'e been theCastle Rock. So I juist left ye your lane, and here ye are at langlast, famished nae doot!" I was surprised to learn that I had slept solong, but the rest had done me good service and I felt greatlyrefreshed. "There's ae virtue aboot parritch, forby ithers," shesaid--"a wee bit extra boilin' does nae hairm, which is mair than can besaid for ony ither dish except sheep's-heid broth."
When my meal was over I rose to go, and as I did so I offered to pay thegood woman for her hospitality.
"No, no," she said, as she shook her head. "Maister Burgess paid yourlawin' for ye; and indeed there was nae necessity, for ony frien' o'that saint o' God is aye welcome to a bed and a sup o' parritch fraeBetty Macfarlane."
As I had given up all intention of trying to reach Closeburn by thefollowing Sunday, I thought I might with advantage spend the rest of theday in rambling round the historic town. Such an opportunity might notoffer again, and I knew that Scotland's story was graven upon the faceof her Capital. Under the cover of the night I would begin my journeyhome. So I walked down the Lawn Market, and descended the Canongateuntil I came within sight of Holyrood. As I went I admired the lordlyhouses which flanked each side of the thoroughfare--some of them gaunt,grey and forbidding; others finely timbered; others again turreted andadorned with stone-fretwork that proclaimed the high skill of thecarvers' art. I lingered for a time in front of Holyrood, thinking ofthe tragic career of her whose spirit still seemed to haunt the pile.Then I made my way by the Cowgate to the Grassmarket, where, sombre andmenacing--the symbol of the dark days through which this tortured landwas passing--stood the scaffold. On that forbidding gibbet I knew thatmany a brave martyr had met his end. The walls around me had heard theintrepid challenge of their testimonies, while the grim Castle rock,towering above, looked down silent and frowning as though it scorned thecruelties of man to his brother man.
From the Grassmarket I climbed up a tortuous and steep wynd to the LawnMarket again. By this time the afternoon was far advanced, and eveningwas at hand. In the High Street, not far from the church of St. Giles,I entered a tavern, and having supped I looked at the clock in theChurch Tower and saw that it was close upon six. I judged it would bewell to set out in another hour. By so doing I should have left thecity behind me and be far in the open country ere it was time to sleep;so I settled myself comfortably on a chair in the inglenook and calledfor another pot of ale.
When the clock in the church tower struck seven I called for my score,and, having settled it, made my way out into the High Street. As I cameout of the tavern door two officers passed me. I was less than a coupleof paces behind them as they walked down the street. Had I willed itso, I could not have failed to catch some fragment of their talk, but myears were pricked to a lively attention when I heard one of them say:"... Among the hills ... Closeburn." I caught a few disjointed words."Sabbath ... three or four thousand ... a great occasion ... Claver'se,Lag, ... something complete ... no miserable failure ... Drumclog ...stamp out... no quarter ... woman or child." A horror so sudden seizedme that I stood stock still, and the officers, unaware that I hadoverheard them, walked on.
What had I heard? The fell purport of the stray words I had caughtblazed before me in letters of fire. I knew of the great Conventiclethat was to take place among the hills above Closeburn. I knew thatevery little cottage and every homestead for miles around that held asoul who professed allegiance to the Cause would have its witness there.By some mischance the enemy had learned of the intended gathering, andhad plotted a master-stroke to destroy the Covenanters.
The Cause was in jeopardy! Destruction threatened it. And I, Walter deBrydde--one-time moss-trooper, could save it! I alone. My hour hadcome.
The clock struck, and, startled, I awoke to action.
Forgetful that the news must be carried far, I began to run. Down pastthe Tron Kirk and on past Halkerstone Wynd and on down the Canongate Iran, until as I drew near the Town Port and saw the scarlet colour ofthe soldier's uniforms, some gleam of caution returned to me, and Islowed down to a walking pace lest my speed should excite suspicion. Ishambled past the sentinels unchallenged, but when I had put asufficient distance between them and myself, I broke into a run oncemore and headed for the hills. As I sped along I made a hastycalculation. It was now eight o'clock on Friday evening. To preventthe massacre, I must reach Closeburn not later than midnight onSaturday. That would give time for a message to be spread broadcast bywilling couriers in the darkness of the night, and faithful men could beposted to give warning at every cross-road by which the worshippers mustpass as they made their way, in the early dawn, to the appointedtrysting-place.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 35
