by John Buchan
CHAPTER XVII
OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR
When we came to the camping-place it was almost deserted. The peoplehad all gone to the fair, and nothing was to be seen save the baggageand the children. The morning had grown wilder and a thin snow wasfalling, the earnest of a storm. The mist was drawing closer andcreeping over the boglands. I minded an old saying of Tam Todd's,"Rouk's snaw's wraith," and I looked for a wild storm with gladness, forit would keep the dragoon gentry at home and prohibit their ill-doing.
But just in front at the border of the fog and at the extremity of thedry land, the captain saw something which made him draw up his horsesharply and stare. Then he turned to Matthew, and I saw that his facewas flushed. "Ride a' your pith, man," he said, "ride like the wind tothe toun, and bid our folk hurry back. Nae words and be off." And theobedient son galloped away to do his bidding.
He gripped me by the arm and pulled me to the side. "Ye've guid een,"he said. "D'ye see that ower by the laigh trees?" I looked and lookedagain and saw nothing.
"Maybe no," he said, "ye haena gipsy een; but in half an' oor we'll a'ken what it means. It's the Ruthvens wi' the Yerl o' Hell. I ken bytheir red-stripit breeks and their lang scythe-sticks. Ye maun ken thatfor lang we've had a bluid-feud wi' that clan, for the Baillies are ayegentrice and hae nae trokins wi' sic blaggard tinklers. We've fochtthem yince and twice and aye gotten the better, and noo I hear thatlittle Will Ruthven, that's him that they ca' the Yerl o' Hell for hisdeevilry, has sworn to fecht us till there's no a Baillie left to keepup the name. And noo they've come. 'Faith there'll be guid bluid spiltafore thae wratches learn their lesson."
The news struck me with vast astonishment and a little dismay. I hadoften longed to see a battle and now I was to be gratified. But what abattle! A fight between two bloodthirsty gipsy clans, both as wild aspeat-reek, and armed with no more becoming weapons than bludgeons,cutlasses, and scythe-blades. More, the event would place me in a hardposition. I could not fight. It would be too absurd for words that Ishould be mixed up in their mellays. But the man at my side expected meto aid him. I owed my life to him, and with these folk gratitude isreckoned one of the first of the virtues. To refuse William Baillie myhelp would be to offer him the deepest unkindness. Yet I dismissed thethought at once as preposterous. I could no more join the fight than Icould engage in a pothouse or stable brawl. There was nothing for itbut to keep back and watch the thing as a silent spectator.
In a little I began to see the band. It would number, as I guessed,some hundred and ten, with women and children. The captain, as helooked, grew fierce with excitement. His dark eyes blazed, and his browand cheeks were crimson. Ever and anon he looked anxiously in thedirection of the town, waiting for the help which was to come. As thefoe came nearer he began to point me out the leaders. "There's MuckleWill," he cried, "him wi' the lang bare shanks, like the trams o' acairt. He's the strongest and langest man frae the Forth to Berwick.My God, but it'll be a braw fellow that can stand afore him. Andthere's Kennedy himsel', that sonsy licht-coloured man. They say he'sthe best wi' the sma'-sword in a' Nithsdale, but 'faith, he's me toreckon wi' the day. And there's that bluidy deil, Jean Ruthven, whaewad fecht ony man in braid Scotland for a pund o' 'oo'. She's as guidas a man, and they say has been the death o' mair folk than the Yerlhimsel'. But here come our ain men. Come on, Rob and Wat, and you,Mathy, gang wide to the right wi' some. It's a great day _this_. Naewee cock-fecht, but a muckle lang deidly battle." And the man's facewas filled with fierce joy.
Meanwhile both the forces had taken up their position opposing oneanother, and such a babel of tinkler yells arose that I was deafened.Each side had their war-cry, and, in addition, the women and childrenscreamed the most horrible curses and insults against the enemy. Yetthe battle was not arrayed in haphazard fashion, but rather with someshow of military skill. The stronger and bigger men of the clan withthe captain himself were in the middle. On the right and left weretheir sons, with a more mixed force, and below all the women were drawnup like harpies, looking well-nigh as fierce and formidable as the men.
"You'll come to the front wi' me, Maister Burnet," said the captain."Ye're a guid man o' your hands and we'll need a' we can get i' themiddle."
"No," said I, "I cannot."
"Why?" he asked, looking at me darkly.
"Tut, this is mere foolery. You would not have me meddling in such afray?"
"You think we're no worthy for you to fecht wi'," he said, quietly, "we,that are as guid as the best gentlemen i' the land, and have saved yourlife for ye, Master John Burnet. Weel, let it be. I didna think ye wadhae dune it." Then the tinker blood came out. "Maybe you're feared,"said he, with an ugly smile.
I turned away and made no answer; indeed, I could trust myself to makenone. I was bitterly angry and unhappy. All my misfortunes had drawnto a point in that moment. I had lost everything. A fatal mischanceseemed to pursue me. Now I had mortally offended the man who had savedmy life, and my outlook was drear enough.
I had been looking the other way for a second, and when I turned againthe fray had begun. The Earl, with a cutlass, had engaged the captain,and the wings, if one may call them by so fine a word, had met andmingled in confusion. But still it was not a general mellay, but rathera duel between the two principal combatants. The little man with theshort sword showed wondrous agility, and leaped and twisted like atumbler at a fair. As for the Baillie, he had naught to do but keep himat a distance, for he was both better armed and better skilled. As hefought he let his eye wander to the others and directed them with hisvoice. "Come up, Mathy lad," he would cry. "Stand weel into them, anddinna fear the lasses." Then as he saw one of his own side creepingbehind the Earl to strike a back blow, he roared with anger and bade himkeep off. "Let the man be," he cried. "Is't no eneuch to hae to fechtwi' blaggards that ye maun be blaggards yoursel'?"
But in a little the crowd closed round them and they had less room forplay. Then began a grim and deadly fight. The townspeople, at the wordof the tinkers fighting, had left the fair and come out in a crowd towitness it. It was a sight such as scarce a man may see twice in hislifetime. The mist rolled low and thick, and in the dim light the wild,dark faces and whirling weapons seemed almost monstrous. Now that thedeath had begun there was little shouting; nothing was heard save therattle of the cutlasses, and a sort of sighing as blows were given andreceived. The bolder of the women and boys had taken their place, andat the back the little children and young girls looked on with thestrangest composure. I grew wild with excitement, and could scarce keepfrom yelling my encouragements or my warnings; but these had no thoughtof uttering a word. Had there been a cloud of smoke or smell of powderit would have seemed decent, but this quietness and clearness jarred onme terribly. Moreover, the weapons they fought with were rude, butpowerful to inflict deep wounds, being all clubs and short swords andscythe-blades fixed on poles. Soon I saw ghastly cuts on the faces ofthe foremost and blood-splashes on brow and cheek. Had there beenhorses it would not have seemed so cruel, for there would have been therush and trample, the hot excitement of the charge and the recoil. Butin the quiet, fierce conflict on foot there seemed nothing but murderand horror.
At first the battle was fought in a little space, and both sides stoodcompact. But soon it widened, and the wings straggled out almost to theedge of the bog-water. The timid onlookers fled as from the plague, andI, in my station in the back, was in doubts whether I should bide stillor no. But in front of me were the girls and children, and I thought ifI could do naught else I might bide still and see to them. For thehorns of the Ruthven's company (which was far the larger) threatened toenclose the Baillies, and cut off their retreat. Meantime the mist hadcome down still closer and had given that decent covering which onedesires in a bloody fray. I could scarce see the front ranks of ouropponents, and all I could make out of my friends was the captain'sbright sword glinting as
he raised it to the cut.
But that soon happened which I had feared. For the Ruthvens, enclosingour wings, had all but surrounded us, since the captain had put theweaker there and left all the more valiant for the centre. Almost beforeI knew I saw one and another great gipsy rush around and make towardsthe girls who had not joined the battle. In that moment I saw thebravest actions which it has ever been my lot to see. For these slim,dark-haired maids drew knives and stood before their assailants, asstout-hearted as any soldiers of the King's guard. The children raiseda great cry and huddled close to one another. One evil-looking fellowflung a knife and pierced a girl's arm.... It was too much for me. Allmy good resolutions went to the wind, and I forgot my pride in my anger.With a choking cry I drew my sword and rushed for him.
After that I know not well what happened. I was borne back by numbers,then I forced my way forward, then back I fell again. At first I foughtcalmly, and more from a perverted feeling of duty than any lust ofbattle. But soon a tinker knife scratched my cheek, and a tinkerbludgeon rattled sorely against my head. Then I grew very hot andangry. I saw all around me a crowd of fierce faces and gleaming knives,and I remember naught save that I hurled myself onward, sword in hand,hewing and slashing like a devil incarnate. I had never drawn blade inovermastering passion before, and could scarce have thought myselfcapable of such madness as then possessed me. The wild moss-troopingblood, which I had heired from generations of robber lords, stood me ingood stead. A reckless joy of fight took me. I must have seemed morefrantic than the gipsies themselves.
At last, I know not how, I found my way to the very front rank. I hadbeen down often, and blood was flowing freely from little flesh wounds,but as yet I was unscathed. There I saw William Baillie laying abouthim manfully, though sore wounded in the shoulder. When he saw me hegave me a cry of welcome. "Come on," he cried, "I kenned ye wad thinkbetter o't. We've muckle need o' a guid man the noo." And he spoketruth, for anything more fierce and awesome than the enemy I have neverseen. The Earl of Hell was mangled almost to death, especially in thelegs and thighs. The flesh was clean cut from the bone of one of hislegs, and hung down over the ankles, till a man grew sick at the sight.But he was whole compared with his daughter, Jean Ruthven, who was thechief's wife. Above and below her bare breasts she was cut to the bone,and so deep were the gashes that the movement of her lungs, as shebreathed, showed between the ribs. The look of the thing made me illwith horror. I felt giddy, and almost swooned; and yet, though white asdeath, she fought as undauntedly as ever. I shunned the sight, andstrove to engage her husband alone, the great fair-haired man, who, withno weapon but a broken cutlass, had cleared all around him. I thrust athim once and again and could get no nearer for the swing of his mightyarms. Then the press behind, caused I suppose by the Ruthvens at theback, drove me forward, and there was nothing for it but to grapple withhim. Our weapons were forced from our hands in the throng, and, withdesperate energy, we clutched one another. I leaped and gripped him bythe neck, and the next instant we were both down, and a great,suffocating wave of men pressed over us. I felt my breath stop, and yetI kept my grip and drew him closer. All was blackness around, and evenas I clutched I felt a sharp thrill of agony through my frame, whichseemed to tear the life from my heart, and I was lost to all.
