John Burnet of Barns: A Romance

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER VII

  HOW TWO OF HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS MET WITH THEIR DESERTS

  The next morn broke fair and cloudless, and ere the sun was up I wasawake, for little time must be lost if we sought to win to Smitwood erethe pursuit began. The folk of the cave were early risers, for the needfor retiring early to rest made them so; and we broke our fast with ameal of cakes and broiled fish almost before daylight. Then I went outto enjoy the fresh air, for it was safe enough to be abroad at thathour. Nothing vexed the still air on the green hillside save theflapping peewits and the faint morning winds.

  Marjory meantime ran out into the sunshine with all the gaiety in theworld. She was just like a child let loose from school, for she wasever of a light heart and care sat easily upon her. Now, although wewere in the direst peril, she was taking delight in spring, as if wewere once again children in Dawyck, catching trout in the deep pools ofthe wood. She left me to go out from the little glen, which was theentrance to the cave, into the wider dale of the Cor Water, which ranshallow between lone green braes. I heard her singing as she went downamong the juniper bushes and flinty rocks, and then it died away behinda little shoulder of hill.

  So I was left to my own reflections on the plight in which I foundmyself. For the first time a sort of wounded pride began to vex me.Formerly I had thought of nothing save how to save my own head and keepmy love from my enemy, and cared not, if in the effecting of it, I hadto crouch with the fox and be chased by the basest scum of the land. Icared not if I were put out of house and home and outlawed for years,for the adventurous spirit was strong within me. But now all my oldpride of race rose in rebellion at the thought that I was become aperson without importance, a houseless wanderer, the spoil of myenemies. It made me bitter as gall to think of it, and by whose aid mymisfortune had been effected. A sort of hopeless remorse came over me.Should I ever win back the place I had lost? Would the Burnets everagain be great gentlemen of Tweeddale, a power in the countryside,having men at their beck and call? Or would the family be gone forever,would I fall in the wilds, or live only to find my lands gone with mypower, and would Marjory never enter Barns as its mistress? I could getno joy out of the morning for the thought, and as I wandered on thehillside I had little care of what became of me.

  Now at this time there happened what roused me and set me once more atpeace with myself. And though it came near to being a dismal tragedy,it was the draught which nerved me for all my later perils. And this wasthe manner of it.

  Marjory, as she told me herself afterwards, had gone down to the littlemeadows by the burnside, where she watched the clear brown water and thefish darting in the eddies. She was thus engaged, when she was aware oftwo horsemen who rode over the top of the glen and down the long hill onthe other side. They, were almost opposite before she perceived them,and there was no time tor flight. Like a brave lass she uttered noscream, but stood still that they might not see her. But it was of noavail. Their roving eyes could not miss in that narrow glen so fair asight, and straightway one called out to the other that there was a girlat the burnside.

  Now had the twain been out on an ordinary foray it would have gone hardindeed with us. For they would have turned aside to search out thematter, and in all likelihood the hiding-place would have beendiscovered. But they had been out on some night errand and werereturning in hot haste to their quarters at Abington, where theircaptain had none too gentle a temper. So they contented themselves withshouting sundry coarse railleries, and one in the plenitude of hisgreathearted ness fired his carbine at her. Without stopping furtherthey rode on.

  The bullet just grazed her arm above the wrist, cutting away a strip ofdress. She cried out at the pain, but though frightened almost todeath, she was brave enough to bide where she was, for if she had runstraight to the cave it would have shown them the hiding-place. As soonas they passed out of view she came painfully up the slope, and I whohad heard the shot and rushed straightway to the place whence it came,met her clasping her wounded wrist and with a pitiful white face.

  "O Marjory, what ails you?" I cried.

  "Nothing, John," she answered; "some soldiers passed me and one fired.It has done me no harm. But let us get to shelter lest they turn back."

  At her words I felt my heart rise in a sudden great heat of anger. Ihad never felt such passion before. It seemed to whelm and gulf my wholebeing.

  "Let me carry you, dear," I said quietly, and lifting her I bore hereasily up the ravine to the cave.

  When I got her within our shelter there was a very great to-do. Thewomen ran up in grief to see the hurt, and the men at the news of themilitary wore graver faces. Master Lockhart, who was something of asurgeon, looked at the wound.

  "Oh," he says, "this is nothing, a scratch and no more. It will be wellas ever to-morrow. But the poor maid has had a fright which has madeher weak. I have some choice French brandy which I aye carry with me forthe fear of such accidents. Some of that will soon restore her."

  So he fetched from some unknown corner the bottle which he spake of, andwhen her lips had been moistened, Marjory revived and declared herweakness gone. Now my most pressing anxiety was removed, which up tillthis time had been harassing me sore. For if my lady were to be hurt inthis unfriendly place, what hope of safety would there be for either?When I saw that the wound was but trifling, the anger which had beengrowing in my heart side by side with my care, wholly overmastered me.All my pride of house and name was roused at the deed. To think thatthe lady who was the dearest to me in the world should be thusmaltreated by scurrilous knaves of dragoons stirred me to fury. I wellknew that I could get no peace with the thought, and my inclination andgood-judgment alike made me take the course I followed.

  I called to Nicol, where he sat supping his morning porridge by thefire, and he came to my side very readily.

  "Get the two horses," said I quietly, that none of the others might hearof my madness, "one for me and one for yourself." Now the beasts werestabled in the back part of the cave, which was roomy and high, thoughsomewhat damp. The entrance thereto lay by a like rift in the hillsidesome hundred yards farther up the glen. When I had thus bidden myservant I sauntered out into the open air and waited his coming withsome impatience.

  I asked him, when he appeared, if he had the pistols, for he had a greattrick of going unarmed and trusting to his fleet legs and mother witrather than the good gifts of God to men, steel and gunpowder. "Ay,laird, I hae them. Are ye gaun to shoot muirfowl?"

  "Yes," said I, "I am thinking of shooting a muirfowl for my breakfast."

  Nicol laughed quietly to himself. He knew well the errand I was on, orhe would not have consented so readily.

  I knew that the two dragoons had ridden straight down the Cor Waterglen, making for the upper vale of Tweed and thence to the Clyde hills.But this same glen of Cor is a strangely winding one, and if a man leaveit and ride straight over the moorland he may save a matter of twomiles, and arrive at the Tweed sooner than one who has started beforehim. The ground is rough, but, to one used to the hills, not so as tokeep him from riding it with ease. Also at the foot of the burn thereis a narrow nick through which it thrusts itself in a little cascade tojoin the larger stream; and through this place the road passes, for allthe hills on either side are steep and stony, and offer no foothold fora horse. Remembering all these things, a plan grew up in my mind whichI hastened to execute.

  With Nicol following, I rode aslant the low hills to the right and cameto the benty tableland which we had travelled the day before. The sunwas now well up in the sky, and the air was so fresh and sweet that itwas pure pleasure to breathe it.

  After maybe a quarter-hour's stiff riding we descended, and keeping wellbehind a low spur which hid us from the valley, turned at the end intothe glen-mouth, at the confluence of the two waters. Then we rode morefreely till we reached the narrows which I have spoke of, and there wehalted. All was quiet, nor was there any sound of man or hor
se.

  "Do you bide there," said I to my servant, "while I will wait here. NowI will tell you what I purpose to do. The two miscreants who shotMistress Marjory are riding together on their way to their quarters.One will have no shot in his carbine; what arms the other has I cannottell; but at any rate we two with pistols can hold them in check. Doyou cover the one on the right when they appear, and above all thingssee that you do not fire."

  So we waited there, sitting motionless in our saddles, on that fairmorning when all around us the air was full of crying snipe andtwittering hill-linnets. The stream made a cheerful sound, and thelittle green ferns in the rocks nodded beneath the spray of the water.I found my mind misgiving me again and again for the headstrong prank onwhich I was entered, as unworthy of one who knew something of betterthings. But I had little time for self-communings, for we had scarcebeen there two minutes before we heard the grating of hooves on thehill-gravel, and our two gentlemen came round the corner not twentyyards ahead.

  At the sight of us they reined up and stared stock still before them.Then I saw the hands of both reach to their belts, and I rejoiced at themovement, for I knew that the arms of neither were loaded.

  "Gentlemen," said I, "it will be at your peril that you move. We havehere two loaded pistols. We are not soldiers of His Majesty, so we havesome skill in shooting. Let me assure you on my word that your case isa desperate one."

  At my words the one still looked with a haughty, swaggering stare, butthe jaw of the other dropped and he seemed like a man in excess ofterror.

  "To-day," I went on, "you shot at a lady not half an hour agone. It isfor this that I have come to have speech with you. Let us understandone another, my friends. I am an outlawed man and one not easy to dealwith. I am the Laird of Barns--ah, I see you know the name--and letthis persuade you to offer no resistance."

  One of the twain still stood helpless. The other's hand twitched as ifhe would draw his sword or reach to his powder-flask, but the steelyglitter of our barrels and my angry face deterred him.

  "What do you want with us?" he said in a tone of mingled sulkiness andbravado. "Let me tell you, I am one of His Majesty's dragoons, andyou'll pay well for any ill you do to me. I care not a fig for you, forall your gentrice. If you would but lay down your pop-guns and standbefore me man to man, I would give you all the satisfaction you want."

  The fellow was a boor but he spoke like a man, and I liked him for hiswords. But I replied grimly:

  "I will have none of your bragging. Go and try that in your own stye,you who shoot at women. I will give you as long as I may count ahundred, and if before that you have not stripped off every rag you haveon and come forward to me here, by God I will shoot you down like thedogs you are."

  And with this I began solemnly to count aloud.

  At first they were still rebellious, but fear of the death which glintedto them from the barrels of the pistols won the mastery. Slowly andwith vast reluctance they began to disrobe themselves of belt andequipments, of coat and jackboots, till they stood before me in the mildspring air as stark as the day they were born. Their faces were heavywith malice and shame.

  "Now," said I to Nicol, "dismount and lay on to these fellows with theflat of your sword. Give me your pistol, and if either makes resistancehe will know how a bullet tastes. Lay on, and do not spare them."

  So Nicol, to whom the matter was a great jest, got down and laid onlustily. They shouted most piteously for mercy, but none they got tillthe stout arm of my servant was weary.

  "And now, gentlemen, you may remount your horses. Nay, without yourclothes; you will ride more freely as you are. And give my bestrespects to your honourable friends, and tell them I wish a speedymeeting."

  But as I looked in the face of one, him who had been so terror-strickenat the outset, I saw that which I thought I recognised.

  "You, fellow," I cried, "where have I seen you before?"

  And as I looked again, I remembered a night the year before on theAlphen road, when I had stood over this very man and questioned him onhis name and doings. So he had come to Scotland as one of the foreigntroops.

  "I know you, Jan Hamman," said I. "The great doctor Johannes Burnetusof Lugdunum has not forgotten you. You were scarcely in an honest tradebefore, but you are in a vast deal less honest now. I vowed if ever Imet you again to make you smart for your sins, and I think I have keptmy word, though I had the discourtesy to forget your face at firstsight. Good morning, Jan, I hope to see you again ere long. Goodmorning, gentlemen both."

  So the luckless pair rode off homeward, and what reception they met withfrom their captain and their comrades who shall say?

  Meanwhile, when they were gone for some little time, Nicol and I rodeback by a round-about path. When I began to reflect, I saw the fullrashness of my action. I had burned my boats behind me with avengeance. There was no choice of courses before me now. The chasewould be ten times hotter against me than before, and besides I hadgiven them some clue to my whereabouts. You may well ask if the dangerto my love were not equally great, for that by this action they wouldknow at least the airt by which she had fled. I would answer that thesemen were of Gilbert's own company, and one, at least, of them, when heheard my name, must have had a shrewd guess as to who the lady was. Mycousin's love affairs were no secret. If the man had revealed the talein its entirety, his own action must necessarily have been exposed, andGod help him who had insulted one whom Gilbert cared for. He would haveflayed the skin from him at the very mention.

  To my sober reason to-day the action seems foolhardy in the extreme, andmore like a boyish frolic than the work of a man. But all I knew at thetime, as I rode back, was that my pride was for the moment soothed, andmy heart mightily comforted.