 Section 57 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Avae in February 2020. The World's Story, Volume 10, England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, edited by Eva March Tappen. Section 57, The Capture of William Wallace, 1305 by Jane Porter According to tradition, Wallace was given up to the English by a fellow countryman called Sir John Monteith. As King Edward looked upon it, Wallace was a traitor, and he was first hanged, then beheaded. His head was put up on a pole on London Bridge. His body was quartered, and each of the four parts was sent to a town in Scotland that the Scots might fear to resist the might of England. The Editor A chieftain on horseback suddenly emerged from the trees which led to the castle and drew to their side. Edwin was wrapped in his plate, and cautiously concealing his face that no chance of his recognition might betray his companion, he walked briskly on without any shade over the noble contour of a form which for majesty and grace was unequaled in Scotland and could not be mistaken. He too moved swiftly forward. The horseman spurred after him. Perceiving himself pursued and therefore known and aware that he must be overtaken, he suddenly stopped. Edwin drew his sword and would have given it into the hand of his friend, but Wallace, putting it back, rapidly answered, leave my defence to this unweapened arm. I would not use steel against my countrymen, but none shall take me while I have a senior to resist. The chieftain now checked his horse in front of Wallace, and respectfully raising his visor, discovered Sir John Monteith. At sight of him Edwin dropped the point of his yet uplifted sword, and Wallace, stepping back, Monteith, said he, I am sorry for this encounter. If you would be safe from the destiny which pursues me, you must retire immediately and forget that we have met. Never! cried Monteith. I know the ingratitude of an envious country drives the bravest of her champions from our borders, but I also know what belongs to myself, to serve you at all hazards, and by conjuring you to become my guest in my castle on the Firth of Clyde I would demonstrate my grateful sense of the dangers you once incurred for me, and I therefore thank fortune for this re-encounter. In vain Wallace expressed his determination not to bring peril on any of his countrymen by sojourning under any roof, till he was far away from Scotland. In vain he urged to Monteith the outlawry which would await him should the infuriated abthanes discover that he had given shelter to the man whom they had chosen to suppose a traitor, and denounces one. End of footnote. Superior thanes or gentry. End of footnote. Monteith, after equally unsuccessful persuasion on his side, at last said that he knew a vessel was now lying at Newark near his castle in which Wallace might immediately embark, and he implored him, by past friendship, to allow him to be his guide to its anchorage. To enforce this supplication he threw himself off his horse, and, with the protestations of a fidelity that trampled on all dangers, he treated even with sobs not to be refused the last comfort he should ever know in his now degraded country. Once I saw Scotland's steady champion, the brave Douglas, rifled from her shores. Do not then doom me to a second grief, bitterer than the first. Do not you yourself drive me from the side of her last hero. Ah, let me behold you, companion of my school days, friend, leader, benefactor, till the sea rests you forever from my eyes. Exhausted and affected Wallace gave his hand to Monteith, the tear of gratitude stood in his eye. He looked affectionately from Monteith to Edwin from Edwin to Monteith. Wallace shall yet live in the memory of the trustee of this land. You, my friend, prove it. I go richly forth, for the hearts of good men are my companions. As they journeyed along the devious windings of the Clyde and saw at a distance the aspiring turrets of Rutherglen, Edwin pointed out to them and said, From that church a few months ago did you dictate a conqueror's terms to England. And now that very England makes me a fugitive, returned Wallace. Oh, not England, interrupted Edwin, you bow not to her. It is blind mad Scotland who thus trusts a benefactor from her. Ha, then my Edwin, rejoined he, reading me the history of thousands. So various is the fate of a people's idol, today he is worshipped as a god, tomorrow cast into the fire. Monteith churned pale at this conversation, and quickening his steps hurried in silence past the opening of the valley which presented the view of Rutherglen. Night overtook the travellers near the little village of Lamloch about two hours' journey from Glasgow. Here a storm coming on, Monteith advised his friends to take shelter and rest. As you object to implicate others, said he, you may sleep secure in an old barn which at present has no ostensible owner. I remarked it while passing this way from Newark. But I rather wish you would forget this too cherry regard for others, and lodge with me in the neighbouring cottage. Wallace was insensible to the pelting of the elements. His unsubdued spirit wanted rest for neither mind nor body, but the broken voice and lingering step of the young Edwin, who had severely sprained his foot in the dark, penetrated his heart. And notwithstanding that the resolute boy, suddenly rallying himself, declared that he was neither weary nor in pain, Wallace seeing that he was both, yielded a sad consent to be conducted from the storm. But not, said he, to the house. We will go into the barn, and there on the dry earth, my Edwin, we may gratefully repose. Monteith did not oppose him further, and, pushing open the door, Wallace and Edwin entered. Their conductor soon after followed with a light from the cottage, and, pulling down some heaped straw, strewed it on the ground for a bit. Here I shall sleep like a prince, cried Edwin, throwing himself along the scattered truss. But not, returned Monteith, till I have disengaged you from your wet garments, and preserved your arms and brigadine from the rust of this night. Edwin, sunk in weariness, said little in opposition, and, having suffered Monteith to take away his sword and to unbrace his plated vest, roped at once on the straw in a profound sleep. Wallace, that he might not disturb him by debate, yielded to the request of Monteith, and, having resigned his armour also, waved him a good night. Monteith nodded the same, and closed the door upon his victims. From Rutherglen to Lamloch no place had presented itself, in which Monteith thought he could so judiciously plant an ambush-gate to surprise the unsuspecting Wallace. And in this village he had stationed so large a force of ruthless savages, brought for the occasion by Halliburton from the Irish island of Rutherlin, that their employer had had the add-out of this night being the last of his two trusting friends' existence. These Rutherliners knew of neither Wallace nor his exploits, but the lower order of Scots, however they might fear to succour his distress, loved his person, and felt so bound to him by his actions that Monteith thirst not apply to any one of them to second his villainy. The hour of midnight passed, and yet he could not summon courage to lead his men to their nefarious attack. Twice they urged him, before he arose from his affected sleep, for sleep he could not, guilt had murdered sleep, and he lay awake restless and longing for the dawn, and yet, ear that dawn, the deed must be accomplished. A cock crewed from a neighbouring farm. That is the sign of mourning, and we have done nothing, exclaimed the surly Ruffian, who leaned on his battle-axe in an opposite corner of the apartment. No, it is the signal of our enemy's captivity, cried Monteith. Follow me, but gently. If he speak a word or a single target rattle before you all fall upon him, we are lost. It is a being of supernatural might, and not a mere man whom you go to encounter. He that first disables him shall have a double reward. Depend upon us, returned the sturdiest Ruffian, and stealing cautiously out of the cottage, the party advanced with noiseless steps toward the barn. Monteith paused at the door, making a sign to his man to halt while he listened. He put his ear to a crevice, not a murmur was within. He gently raised the latch, and, setting the door wide open, with his finger to his lip, beckoned his followers. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Avahi in February 2020. The World's Story, Volume 10, England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, edited by Eva March Tappan. Section 58, The Coronation of Robert Bruce, 1306 by Grace Aguilar Robert Bruce, who had had a good claim to the throne in the days of Balliol, had left a grandson of the same name, and this second Robert Bruce now became King of Scotland, provided he could win back his kingdom from the English. His coronation took place at Skone, but the famous stone of Skone, on which other kings had sat to be crowned, had been carried to England by Edward. Whoever laid the crown upon the head of Bruce would run the risk of a traitor's death. The Earl of Fife, to whom the duty belonged, was a friend to the English, but the Earl's place was filled by his courageous sister, the Countess of Buchan. The Editor Brightly and blithely dawned the 26th of March, 1306, for the loyal inhabitants of Skone. Few who might gaze on the olden city, and marked the flags and penins waving gaily and proudly on every side, the rich tapestry flung over balconies or hung from the massive windows in every street, the large branches of oak and laurel festooned with gay ribbons that stood beside the entrance of every house which boasted any consequence. The busy citizens in goodly array with their wives and families bedecked to the best of their ability, all as inspired by one spirit, hurrying in the direction of the Abbey Yard, joining the merry clamour of eager voices to the continued peel of every bell of which the old town could boast, sounding loud and joyously even above the roll of the drum or the shrill trumpet call. Those who marked these things might well believe Scotland was one again the same free land which had held in the same town the coronation of Alexander III, some years before. Little would they deem that the foreign foemen still thronged her feudal halls and cottage-homes, that they waited but the commands of their monarch to pour down on all sides upon the daring individual who thus boldly assumed the state and solemn honour of a king, and, armed but by his own high heart and a handful of loyal followers, prepared to resist, depend and free or die for Scotland. There was silence, deep, solemn, yet most eloquent silence, reigning in the Abbey Church of Skone. The sun shining in that full flood of glory we sometimes find in the infant spring, illumined as with golden luster, the long, narrow casements, falling thence in flickering brilliance on the pavement floor, its rays sometimes arrested to revolve in heightened luster from the glittering sword or the suit of half-male of one or other of the noble knights assembled there. The rich plate of the Abbey, all at least which had escaped the cupidity of Edward, was arranged with care upon the various altars. In the centre of the church was placed the abbot's oaken throne, which was to supply the place of the ancient stone, the coronation seat of the Scottish kings. No longer there, its absence felt by one and all within that church as the closing seal to Edward's infamy, the damning proof that as his slave, not as his sister kingdom, he sought to render Scotland. From the throne to the high altar, where the king was to receive the Eucharist, a carpet of rich, brocaded, genuine velvet was laid down. A cushion of the same elegantly wrought material marked the place beside the spot where he was to kneel. Priests in their richest vestments officiated at the high altar, six beautiful boys bearing alternately a large waxen candle and the golden censors filled with the richest incense stood beside them, while opposite the altar and behind the throne, in an elevated gallery, were ranged the seventy choristers of the Abbey, thirty of whom were youthful novices. Behind them a massive screen or curtain of tapestry concealed the organ and gave a yet more startling and thrilling effect to its rich, deep tones, thus bursting as it were from spheres unseen. The throne was already occupied by the patriot king, clothed in his robes of state. His inner dress was a doublet and vest of white velvet, slashed with cloth of silver. His stockings, fitting tight to the knee, were of the finest woven white silk, confined where they met the doublet with a broad band of silver. His shoes of white velvet, broided with silver, in unison with his dress. A scarf of cloth of silver passed over his right shoulder, fastened there by a jeweled clasp, and, crossing his breast, secured his trusty sword to his left side. His head, of course, was bare, and his fair hair, parted carefully on his arched and noble brow, descended gracefully on either side. His countenance was perfectly calm, unexpressive of ought, save of a deep sense of the solemn service in which he was engaged. There was not a faintest trace of either anxiety or exaltation, nor that could shadow the brows of his followers, or diminish by one particle the love and veneration which in every heart were rapidly gaining absolute dominion. On the right of the kings stood the Abbot of Skone, the Archbishop of St. Andrews, and the Bishop of Glasgow, all of which venerable prelates had instantaneously and unhesitatingly declared for the Bruce. Ranged on either side of the throne, according more to seniority than rank, were seated the brothers of the Bruce and the loyal barons who had joined his standard. Names there were already famous in the annals of patriotism, Fraser, Lennox, Athol, Hay, whose stalwart arms had so nobly struck for Wallace, whose steady minds had risen superior to the petty emotions of jealousy and envy which had actuated so many of similar rank. These were true patriots, and gladly and freely they once more rose for Scotland. Sir Christopher Seton, brother-in-law to the Bruce, Somerville, Keith, St. Clair, the young Lord Douglas and Thomas Randolph, the king's nephew, were the most noted of those now around the Bruce. Yet on that eventful day no more than fourteen barons were mustered round their sovereign, exclusive of his four gallant brothers who were in themselves a host. All these were attired with the care and gallantry their precarious situation permitted, half-armour, concealed by flowing scarfs and graceful mantles, or suits of gayer seeming among the younger knights, for those of the baron's followers of gentle blood and chivalric training were also admitted within the church, forming a goodly show of gallant men. Behind them, on raised seats, which were divided from the body of the church by an open railing of ebony, set the ladies of the court, the seat of the queen distinguished from the rest by its canopy and cushion of embroidered taffeta, and among those gentle beings, fairest and loveliest, choned the maiden of Buchan, as she said in smiling happiness between the youthful daughter of the Bruce, the Princess Marjorie, and his niece, the Lady Isoline, children of ten and fourteen, who already claimed her as their companion and friend. The colour was bright on the soft cheek of Agnes, the smile laughed alike in her lip and eye, for ever and unknown, from amid the courtly crowd beneath, the deep blue orb of Nigel Bruce met hers, speaking in its passioned yet respectful gaze, all that could whisper joy and peace unto a heart young, loving and confiding as that of Agnes. The evening previous he had detached a blue ribbon, which confined her flowing curls, and it was with a feeling of pardonable pride she beheld it suspended from his neck, even in that hour, when his rich habiliments and the imposing ceremony of the day marked him the brother of a king. Her brother, too, was at his side, gazing upon his sovereign with feelings, whose indexed, marked as it was on his brow, gave him the appearance of being older than he was. It was scarcely the excitement of a mere boy, who rejoiced in the state and dignity around him, the emotion of his mother had sunk into his very soul, subduing the wild buoyancy of his spirit, and bidding him feel deeply and sadly the situation in which he stood. It seemed to him as if he had never thought before, and now that reflection had come upon him it was fraught with a weight and gloom he could not remove and could scarcely comprehend. He felt no power on earth could prevent his taking the only path which was open to the true patriot of Scotland, and in following that path he raised the standard of revolt, and enlisted his own followers against his father. Till the moment of action he had dreamed not of these things, but the deep anxieties, the contending feelings of his mother, which, despite her controlled demeanour, his heart perceived, could not but have their effect, and premature manhood was stealing fast upon his heart. Upon the left of the king, and close beside his throne, stood a countess of Buchan, attired in robes of the darkest crimson velvet, with a deep border of gold which swept the ground, and long-falling sleeves with a broad fringe, a thick cord of gold and tassels confined the robe around the waist, and thence fell reaching to her feet, and well-nigh concealing the inner dress of white silk, which was worn to permit the robes falling easily on either side, and thus forming a long train behind. Neither gem nor gold adorned her beautiful hair, a veil was twisted in its luxuriant tresses, and served the purpose of the matron's coiff. She was pale and calm, but such was the usual expression of her countenance, and perhaps it accorded better with the dignified majesty of her commanding figure than a greater play of feature. It was not the calmness of insensibility, of vacancy, it was the still reflection of a controlled and chastened soul of one whose depth and might was known but to herself. The peeling anthem for a while had ceased, and it was as if that church was desolate, as if the very hearts that throbbed so quickly for their country and their king were hushed a while and stilled that every word which passed between the sovereign and the primate should be heard. Kneeling before him, his hands placed between those of the archbishop, the king, in a clear and manly voice, received, as it were, the kingdom from his hands, and swore to govern according to the laws of his ancestors, to defend the liberties of his people alike from the foreign and the civil foe, to dispense justice, to devote life itself to restoring Scotland to her former station in the scale of kingdoms. Solemnly, energetically, he took the required vows, his cheek flushed, his eye glistened, and ear he rose, he bent his brow upon his spread hands, as if his spirit supplicated strength, and the primate standing over him blessed him in a loud voice in the name of him whose lowly minister he was. A few minutes, and the king was again seated on his throne, and from the hands of the bishop of Glasgow, the counters of Buchan received a simple coronet of gold, which had been hastily made to supply the place of that which Edward had removed. It was a moment of intense interest. Every eye was directed toward the king, and a dauntless woman by his side, who, rather than the descendant of Malcolm Sean Moore, should demand in vain the service from the descendants of the brave Macduff, exposed herself to all the wrath of a fierce and cruel king, the fury of an incensed husband and brother, and in her own noble person represented that ancient and most loyal line. Where any other circumstance needed to enhance the excitement of the patriots of Scotland, they would have found it in this. As it was, a sudden, irrepressible burst of applause broke from many eager voices, as the bishop placed a coronet in her hands, but one glance from those dark, eloquent eyes, sufficed to hush it on the instant into stillness. Simultaneously all within the church stood up, and gracefully and steadily, with a hand which trembled not, even to the observant and anxious eyes of her son, Isabella of Buchan placed the sacred symbol of royalty on the head of Scotland's king, and then arose, as with one voice, the wild enthusiastic shout of loyalty, which, bursting from all within the church, was echoed again and again from without, almost drowning the triumphant anthem, which, at the same moment, sent its rich, hallowed tones through the building, and proclaimed Robert Bruce, indeed, a king. Again and yet again the voice of triumph and of loyalty arose hundred tongued and set its echo even to the English camp, and when it seized, when slowly, and as it were reluctantly, it died away, it was a grand and glorious sight to see those stern and noble barons one by one approach their sovereign's throne and do him homage. It was not always customary for the monarchs of those days to receive the feudal homage of their vassals, the same hour of their coronation. It was, in general, a distinct and almost equally gorgeous ceremony. But in this case both the king and barons felt it better policy to unite them. The excitement attendant on the one ceremonial they felt would prevent the deficiency of numbers in the other being observed, and they acted wisely. There was a dauntless firmness in each baron's look, in his manly carriage and unwavering step, as one by one he traversed the space between him and the throne, seeming to proclaim that in himself he held indeed a host. To adhere to the usual custom of paying homage to the Sazarin bare-headed, bare-footed, and unarmed, the embroidered slipper had been adopted by all instead of the iron boot, and as he knelt before the throne, the Earl of Lenox, for first in rank, he first approached his sovereign, one buckled his trusty sword, laid it together with his dagger at Robert's feet, and placing his clasp-tands between those of the king repeated, in a deep sonorous voice, the solemn vow, to live and die with him against all manner of men. Athol, Fraser, Seton, Douglas, Hay, gladly and willingly followed his example, and it was curious to mark the character of each man, proclaimed in his mean and hurried step. The calm, controlled and somewhat thoughtful manner of those grown wise in war, their bold spirits feeling to the inmost soul the whole extent of the risk they ran, scarcely daring to anticipate the freedom of their country, the emancipation of their king from the heavy yoke that threatened him, and yet so firm in the oath they pledged, that had destruction yawned before them ere they reached the throne, they would have dared it rather than turned back. And then again those hot and eager youths, feeling, knowing but the excitement of the hour, believing but as they hoped, seeing but a king, a free and independent king, bounding from their seats to the monarch's feet, regardless of the solemn ceremonial in which they took apart, desirous only, in the words of their oath, to live and die for him, caused a brighter flush to mantle on Robert's cheek, and his eyes to shine with new and radiant light. None knew better than himself the perils that encircled him, yet there was a momentary glow of exaltation in his heart as he looked on the noble warriors, the faithful friends around him, and felt that they, even they, representatives of the oldest, the noblest houses in Scotland, men famed not alone for their gallant bearing in war, but their fidelity and wisdom, and unstained honour and virtue in peace, even they acknowledged him their king, and vowed him that allegiance which was never known to fail. Alan of Buchan was the last of that small yet noble train who approached his sovereign. There was a hot flush of impetuous feeling on the boy's cheek, an indignant tear trembled in his dark flashing eye, and his voice, sweet, thrilling as it was, quivered with the vain effort to restrain his emotion. Sovereign of Scotland, he exclaimed, descendant of that glorious line of kings to whom my ancestors have, until this dark day, vowed homage and allegiance. Sovereign of all good and faithful men on whose inmost souls the name of Scotland is so indelibly writ, that even in death it may there be found. Refuse not thou my homage. I have but my sword, not even a name of which to boast. Yet hear me swear," he raised his clasp plans toward heaven. Swear that for thee, for my country, for thee alone will I draw it, alone shall my life be spent, my blood be shed. Reject me not, because my name is common, because I alone am here of that once loyal house. Oh, condemn me not, reject not untried a loyal heart and trusty sword. Reject thee, said King Robert, laying his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder. Reject thee, young soldier, he said, cheeringly. In Allen of Buchan we see but the noble son of our right noble countrywoman, the Lady Isabella. We see in him but a worthy descendant of Macduff, the noble scion, though but by the mother's side, of the loyal house of five. Young is thou art, we ask of thee but the heart and sword which thou hast so earnestly profit, nor can we, son of Isabella of five, doubt their honesty and truth. Thou shalt earn a loyal name for thyself, until then, as the brother in arms, the chosen friend of Nigel Bruce, all shall respect and trust thee. We confer knighthood on twenty of our youthful warriors seven days hence. Prepare thyself to receive it with your brother. Enough for us to know thou hast learned the art of chivalry at thy mother's hand. Dazzled, bewildered by the benign manner, and yet more gracious words of his sovereign, the young heir of Buchan remained kneeling for a brief space, as if rooted to the ground. But the deep earnest voice of his mother, the kind greeting of Nigel Bruce, as he grasped his arm and healed him companion in arms, roused him at once, and he sprung to his feet. The despondency, shame, doubt, anxiety which like lead had weighed down his heart before, dissolved before the glad, buoyant spirit, the bright, free, glorious hopes and dreams and visions which are known to youth alone. Stentorian and simultaneous was the eager shout that hailed the appearance of the newly anointed king, as he paused a moment on the great stone staircase, leading from the principal doors of the abbey to the abbey yard. For miles round, particularly from those counties which were but thinly garrisoned by the English, the loyal scots had poured at the first rumour of the Bruce's rising, and now a rejoicing multitude welcomed him with one voice, the execrations against their foes forgotten in this outpouring of the heart toward their native prince. Inspired by this heartfelt greeting, the king advanced a few paces on the stone terrace and raised his right hand, as if about to speak. On the instant every shout was hushed, and silence fell upon that eager multitude, as deep and voiceless as if some mighty magic chained them spellbound where they stood, their very breathing hushed, fearful to lose one word. Many an-aged eye grew dim with tears as it rested on the fair and graceful form, the beautifully expressive face of him, who, with eloquent fervour, referred to the ancient glory of their country. Tears of joy, for they felt that they looked upon the good genius of their land, that she was raised from her dejected stupor to sleep a slave no more, and the middle-aged and the young, with deafening shouts and eager gestures, swore to give him the crown, the kingdom he demanded, free, unshackled as his ancestors had borne them, or die around him to a man. And blessings and prayers in women's gentler voice mingled with the swelling cry, and little children called Bruce's name and bade God bless him, and others equally impetuous shouted, Bruce and freedom. Love obey, follow me for Scotland's sake, noble or gentle, let all private feud be forgotten in this one great struggle for liberty or death. Thus, he concluded, united and faithful the name of Wallace on each lip, the wheel of Scotland in each heart, her mountains our shield, her freedom our sword, shall we, can we fail? No, no, Scotland shall be free, or her green-swordened mountain-flowers shall bloom upon our graves. I have no crown save that which Scotland gives, no kingdom save what your swords shall conquer and your hearts bestow, with you I live and die. END OF SECTION 58 EDITED BY AVA MARCH TAPIN SECTION 59 BRUCE AT BANNIC BURN 1314 BY P. HUENG BRAUN At the end of seven years after Bruce had landed at Ternbury, almost every place in Scotland was taken from the English except Stirling Castle, and that castle was now besieged by Bruce's brother Edward. He made a bargain with the English commander of the castle, whose name was Sir Philip Mulberry, that the Scots should get the castle if within a year King Edward did not send an army to fight for it. When Bruce heard of this bargain he was not pleased, as he could not raise nearly such a large army as the English, but his brother's answer was, let the King of England bring all the many years, we will fight them and more. Be it so was Bruce's answer, we will abide the battle like men. It was a rash bargain that Edward Bruce had made, but it was to end in the most famous day in the history of Scotland. The King of England was to come and fight for Stirling Castle, not later than Midsummer Day, that is the 24th of June, and he kept his word. For the very day before, he and his army came to the place where Bruce was waiting for them. As Stirling Castle was the place for which the two armies were to fight, Bruce had chosen his ground not far from the castle, so that the English would have to fight him before they could reach it. So on the long summer evening of the 23rd of June, Bruce and his men saw the English hosts drawn near them, and a splendid sight it must have been. Edward's army was the largest that the King of England had ever led. It was said that he had 100,000 men, of whom 40,000 were horsemen. It was indeed what the Bible calls an army terrible with banners, and many of Bruce's men, as they saw it come on, must have wondered if they could ever hope to win the victory over such a mighty host. Though Scotland was now a united country, Bruce could not, of course, raise such a great army as Edward, since England had far more inhabitants than Scotland. Indeed, though Bruce did his best to raise a strong army, he had only about half the number of men who followed Edward, so that in the battle that was to be fought, there would be two Englishmen against every Scotsman. However, the Scots had this great advantage. The Third King was a great general, while the King of England was not. And before the battle, Bruce showed how skillful he was by the way he arranged his men. The place where he arranged them was on the banks of the little stream called the Bannock Berm, and about three miles to the south of Stirling Castle. On one side of his army was the stream which the English would have to cross before they could make their attack, and in other places there were bogs which lay between the two armies. And where there was firm ground between them, Bruce took care that it should not be easy for the English to ride over. He dug pits and then covered them with turf so that they should not be seen. And all over the ground he put steel spikes called calthrifts, which would lame the English horses and break the ranks of the cavalry when they charged. In this way, therefore, the English knights were prevented from riding all at once upon the Scots, as they would have done had the ground between the two armies been perfectly smooth and open. Bruce divided his army into four parts, the largest part being made up of the footmen with long spears. He had only a very few horse soldiers, but we shall see what a good use he made of them. He had also some good archers, though not nearly so many nor so skillful as the English, for the Scots never cared for archery and always liked best to fight with their spears and axes. When the English came up, it was too late to fight that day, and so both armies lay in sight of each other, waiting for the morrow's battle. But in the evening, two things happened which must have put heart into the Scots for the coming fight. An English lord named Clifford rode at the head of three hundred horsemen in the direction of Sterling Castle to carry assistance to it. Now Bruce had told Randolph this should be prevented, and when he saw Clifford riding the Sterling, he turned to Randolph and said, Randolph, a rose is falling from his gaplet, meaning that he had failed in his duty. But Randolph at once put himself at the head of a troop of foot soldiers armed with spears and caught Clifford on the way. At first it seemed as if Randolph were to be beaten, and Douglas asked Leave of Bruce to go to his assistance. Bruce refused his permission, but Douglas could not bear to see his friend defeated and perhaps slain, and in spite of Bruce's refusal, he rode off at the head of his men to give help. Before he reached the place of fighting, however, the English were seen to flee, and then he ordered his men to return, so that Randolph might have all the honor of the victory. This was one event that was lucky for the Scots, and the other was this. During the evening, Bruce was riding in front of his army on a pony, and had only a battle axe in his hand. An English knight named Sir Henry de Bohewn knew him by the gold coronet he wore on his helmet, and thought that if he could slay him, he would put both an end to the war and win great glory for himself. So, on his great war horse and with his lance couched, he rode full speed upon Bruce. Just as he drew near, however, Bruce made his pony turn aside and avoided the thrust of the lance. Then, in an instant, he rose in his stirrups to his full height, and with one blow of his battle axe on de Bohewn's helmet felled him to the ground. The Scottish leaders who were near Bruce blamed him for risking his life when so much depended upon him, but he only said, I have broken my good battle axe. As soon as the sun rose the next morning, the two armies prepared for battle. Before it began, the Scots went down on their knees to pray, and when King Edward saw this, he said to an English lord near him, see, they are kneeling to ask for pardon. Yes, was the answer. They are asking for pardon, but from God, and not from us. Young men will conquer or die. Then the fight began, the English knights riding against the Scottish spearmen who were all on foot, and this was the fiercest part of the battle. At the beginning the English archers bent their bows and sent their arrows among the Scots as thick as snowflakes. Had this gone on long, the same thing would have happened as had taken place at Falkirk when Wallace's spearmen were shot down by the English arrows and the battle was lost. But Bruce had thought of this beforehand. At his command the Scottish mounted men rode against the English archers who were of course all on foot. Their bows were of no use in a close fight, and soon they were either slain or put to flight. For hours the battle went on, but as we know the English were not on ground where they could fight their best. Their horses had not room to move about, so that they got mixed up among each other. Then the boggy ground and steel spikes prevented the horsemen from riding quickly, and when a horse soldier was brought to a standstill in a crowd, a soldier on foot armed with a spear is more than a match for him, as he can kill the horse and slay the rider before the latter can free himself from his stirrups. And this was what happened to thousands of the English horsemen. When their horses were slain they were either trampled to death or pierced by a Scottish spear. And so the battle raged till a thing happened that decided which side was to win. From a hill near at hand, afterwards called the Gillies Hill, what looked like another Scottish army was seen to descend. It was only the servants or Gillies who attended on versus camp, and a number of men who lived in the neighborhood. But as they came in a body and with banners flying the English thought they were really another army, and then they lost their heart and began to give way. When the Scottish spearmen saw this they fought all the harder, and soon the enemy was fleeing in all directions. When King Edward saw that the battle was lost he at first rode to Sterling Castle, thinking that he would be safe there. But Sir Philip Mulberry, the commander of the castle, told him that by the bargain he had made with Edward Burrs he would have to surrender at the next day. So there was nothing for it but that the beaten king should try to reach his own kingdom if he could. And a narrow escape he had, for Douglas rode after him as far as Dunbar, a distance of sixty miles, when Edward got into a boat and sailed to Berwick, where he was safe. This was the greatest victory that the Scots ever gained, and the English thought it was such a disgrace to themselves that they said it was a punishment for their sins. So much booty fell into the hands of the Scots that it made Scotland a richer country. Precious garments, jewels, and plate which Edward and his knights had brought with them were all taken, and many of the chief men of the English were made prisoner and had to pay great sums of money to be allowed to go home. But the chief thing to be remembered about the Battle of Bannockburn is that it made Scotland again a free country, and that it made Scotsmen feel more than ever they had done before that they were one people and one nation. End of section 59. This recording is in the public domain. Section 60 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone. Scotsway Hay by Robert Burns. This is the supposed address of Robert Bruce to his army before the Battle of Bannockburn. The editor. Scotsway Hay with Wallace Bled. Scots when Bruce has often led. Welcome to your gory bed or to victory. Now's the day and now's the hour. See the front, oh battle hour. See approach, proud Edwards, power, chains and slavery. Wa will be a traitor, naive, walk and fill a coward's grave. Wa say base as be a slave, let him turn and flee. Wa for Scotland's king and law, freedom's sword will strongly draw. Free man stand or free man fall, let him follow me. By oppressions, woes and pains, by your sons in survival chains, we will drain our dearest veins, but they shall be free. Lay the proud users low, tyrants fall in every foe. Liberties in every blow, let us do or die. End of Section 60. This recording is in the public domain. Section 61 of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Read for LibrewVox.org by Sara Hale. Scotland Part 3. To the Death of Mary. Historical Note. Scotland was still a scene of warfare and struggle. Several kings succeeded to the throne as miners. The nobles were exceedingly powerful, and whenever any of them became dissatisfied, they were always ready to enter into schemes with England. In the times of Henry VII of England, there was hope of peace, for his daughter became the wife of the Scottish king. In the very next reign, however, the friendship between the Scots and the French led to a Scottish invasion of England, and a total defeat of the Scots at Floodenfield in 1513. Soon after Elizabeth became Queen of England, the ideas of the Reformation, interpreted by the fiery preaching of John Knox, swept over the land, and Presbyterianism became established. This helped to make the support of the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots, only half-hearted. She fled to the protection of Elizabeth, and after being kept as a prisoner for many years, she was executed on the charge of conspiracy against the Crown. On the death of Queen Elizabeth, Mary's son, James VI of Scotland, became James I of England, and thus the two countries fell under one king, although the separate governments were maintained. End of Section 61. This recording is in the public domain. Section 62 of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The World's Story, Volume 10. England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. Edited by Ava Markstappen. Section 62, The Beer Right, Ladder Part of the Fourteenth Century, by Sir Walter Scott. The husband of Magdalene Proudfute has been slain, and it is suspected that some one of the followers of Sir John Ramone was his murderer. The test of beer right has been decided upon. That is, every member of Sir John's household must kneel beside the beer and take a solemn oath of his own innocence. It was a belief of the time that if this oath was false, the wounds of the murdered man would straight away burst open and begin to bleed afresh. The Editor. It was, therefore, after high mass had been performed with the greatest solemnity of which circumstances rendered the ceremony capable, and after the most repeated and fervent prayers had been offered to heaven by the crowd of the assembly, that preparations were made for appealing to the direct judgment of heaven on the mysterious murder of the unfortunate bonnet-maker. The scene presented that effect of imposing solemnity which the rites of the Catholic Church are so well qualified to produce. The eastern window, richly and variously painted, streamed down a torrent of checkered light upon the high altar. On the beer placed before it were stretched the mortal remains of the murdered man, his arms folded on his breast, and his palms joined together with the fingers pointed upwards as if the senseless clay was itself appealing to heaven for vengeance against those who had violently divorced the immortal spirit from its mangled tenement. Close to the beer was placed a throne which supported Robert of Scotland and his brother Albany. The prince sat upon a lower stool beside his father, an arrangement which occasioned some observation as Albany's seat being little distinguished from that of the king, the heir apparent, though full of age, seemed to be degraded beneath his uncle in the sight of the assembled people of Perth. The beer was so placed as to leave the view of the body it sustained open to the greater part of the multitude assembled in the church. At the head of the beer stood the knight of Kinfons, the challenger, and at the foot the young girl of Crawford as representing the defendant. The evidence of the Duke of Rouse and expurgation as it was turned of Sir John Ramone had accepted him from the necessity of attendance as a party subjected to the ordeal, and his illness served as a reason for his remaining at home. His household, including those who, though immediately and waiting upon Sir John, were accounted the prince's domestics, and had not yet received their dismissal, amounted to eight or ten persons, most of them esteemed men of profligate habits, and who might therefore be deemed capable in the riot of a festival evening of committing the slaughter of the bonnet-maker. They were drawn up in a row on the left side of the church and wore a species of white cassock resembling the dress of a penitentiary. All eyes being bent on them, several of this band seemed so much disconcerted as to excite among the spectators strong prepossessions of their guilt. The real murderer had accountants incapable of betraying him, a sullen, dark look which neither the feast nor wine-cup could enliven, in which the peril of discovery and death could not render dejected. We have already noticed the posture of the dead body. The face was bare, as were the breasts and arms. The rest of the corpse was shrouded in a winding sheet of the finest linen, so that if blood should flow from any place which was covered, it could not fail to be instantly manifest. High mass having been performed, followed by a solemn invocation to the deity that he would be pleased to protect the innocent and make knownly guilty, Evia, served John Ramone's page, was summoned to undergo the ordeal. He advanced with an ill-assured step. Perhaps he thought his internal consciousness that Bontherne must have been the assassin might be sufficient to implicate him in the murder, though he was not directly accessory to it. He paused before the beer and his voice faltered as he swore by all that was created in seven days and seven nights, by heaven, by hell, by his part of paradise, and by the God and author of all, that he was free and sackless of the bloody deed done upon the corpse before which he stood, and on whose breast he made the sign of the cross in evidence of the appeal. No consequences ensued. The body remained stiff as before. The curdled wounds gave no sign of blood. The citizens looked on each other with faces of blank disappointment. They had persuaded themselves of Evia's guilt, and their suspicions had been confirmed by his irresolute manner. Their surprise at his escape was therefore extreme. The other followers of Ramone took heart and advanced to take the oath with a boldness which increased as one by one they performed the ordeal and were declared by the voice of the judges, free and innocent of every suspicion attaching them on the account of the death of Oliver Proudfield. But there was one individual who did not partake that increasing confidence. The name of Bonthrin, Bonthrin, sounded three times through the aisles of the church. But he who owned it acknowledged the call no otherwise than by a sort of shuffling motion with his feet as if he had been suddenly affected with a bit of palsy. Speak, dog, whispered Evia, or prepare for a dog's death. But the murderer's brain was so much disturbed by the sight before him that the judges, beholding his department, doubted whether to ordain him to be dragged before the beer or to pronounce judgment in default, and it was not until he was asked for the last time whether he would submit to the ordeal that he answered with his usual brevity, I will not. What do I know what juggling tricks may be practiced to take a poor man's life? I offer the combat to any man who says I harm that dead body. And according to a usual form, he threw his glove upon the floor of the church. Henry the Smith stepped forward amidst the murmured applause of his fellow citizens, which even the August presence could not entirely suppress, and lifting the ruffian's glove, which he had placed in his bonnet, laid down his own in the usual form as a gauge of battle. But Bonthrin raised it not. He is no match for me, growled the savage, nor fit to lift my glove. I follow the Prince of Scotland in attending on his master of horse. This fellow is a wretched mechanic. Here the Prince interrupted him. Thou follow me, kindeth. I discharge thee from my service on the spot. Take him in hand, Smith, and beat him as thou didst ever thump an anvil. The villain is both guilty and requriant. It sickens me to even look at him, and if my royal father will be ruled by me, he will give the parties two handsome Scottish axes, and we will see which of them turns out the best fellow before the day is half an hour older. This was readily assented to by the Earl of Crawford and Sir Patrick Charteris, the godfathers of the parties, who as the combatants were men of inferior rank agreed that they should fight in steel caps, buck jackets, and with axes, and that as soon as they could be prepared for the combat. The lists were appointed at the Skinner's Yards, a neighbouring space of ground occupied by the corporation from which it had the name, and who quickly cleared a space of about thirty feet by twenty-five for the combatants. Thither throng the nobles, priests, and commons, all accepting the old king, who detesting such scenes of blood retired to his residence, and devolved the charge of the field upon the Earl of Errol, Lord High Constable, to whose office it more particularly belonged. The Duke of Albany watched the whole proceeding with a close and wary eye. His nephew gave the scene the heedless degree of notice which corresponded with his character. When the combatants appeared in the lists, nothing could be more striking than the contrast betwixt the manly, cheerful countenance of the Smith, whose sparkling eye seemed already beaming with the victory he had hoped for, and the sullen, downcast aspect of the brutal Bonthran who looked as if there were some obscene bird driven into sunshine out of the shelter of its darksome haunts. They made oath severally, each to the truth of his quarrel, a ceremony which Henry Gal performed with a serene and manly confidence. Bonthran, with a dogged resolution which induced the Duke of Rotsy to say to the High Constable, Didst thou ever, my dear Earl, behold such a mixture of malignity, cruelty, and I think fear as in that fellow's countenance? He is not comely, said the Earl, but a powerful nave as I have seen. I'll gauge a hog's head of wine with you, my good Lord, that he loses the day. Henry the Armorer is as strong as he and much more active, and then look at his bold bearing. There is something in that other fellow that is loathsome to look upon. Let them yoke presently, my dear Constable, for I am sick of beholding him. The High Constable then addressed the widow, who in her deep weeds and having her children still beside her occupied a chair within the lists. Woman, do you willingly accept of this man, Henry the Smith, to do battle as your champion in this cause? I do. I do, most willingly, answered Magdalene Proudfuth. And may the blessing of God and St. John give him the strength and fortune, since he strikes for the orphan and the fatherless. Then I pronounced this a fenced field of battle, said the Constable aloud. Let no one dare, upon peril of his life, to interrupt his combat by word, speech, or look. Sound trumpets and fight, combatants. The trumpets flourished, and the combatants, advancing from opposite ends of the lists, with a steady and even pace, looked at each other attentively, well-skilled in judging from the motion of the eye the direction in which a blow was meditated. They halted opposite to and within reach of each other, and, in turn, made more than one faint strike in order to ascertain the activity and vigilance of the opponent. At length, whether weary of these maneuvers, or faring less than a contest so conducted his unwieldy strength would be foiled by the activity of the Smith, Bonthran heaved up his axe for a downright blow, adding the whole strength of his sturdy arms to the weight of the weapon in his descent. The Smith, however, avoided the stroke by stepping aside, for it was too forcible to be controlled by any guard which he could have interposed. Air Bonthran recovered guard, and restruck him a side-link blow on the steel headpiece, which prostrated him on the ground. Confess or die, said the victor, placing his foot on the body of the vanquished, and holding to his throat the point of the axe, which terminated in a spike or poignard. I will confess, said the villain, glaring wildly upward on the sky, let me rise. Not till you have yielded, said Harry the Smith. I do yield, again murmured Bonthran, and Henry proclaimed aloud that his antagonist was defeated. The dukes of Rasse and Albany, the High Constable and the Dominican prior, now entered the list, and addressing Bonthran demanded if he acknowledged himself vanquished. I do, answered the miscreant. And guilty of the murder of Oliver Proudfute? I am. End of Section 62. This recording is in the public domain. Section 63 of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Piotr Natter. The world's story. Volume 10. England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. Edited by Eva March-Tappan. Section 63. How the Scots Lived While James I Was King. 1422-1437 by P. Hume Brown. In James I's reign, there came a foreigner to Scotland who wrote about what he saw there. This visitor was an Italian. His name was Enneas Silvius, and he afterwards became Pope Pius II so that he was a very important person. On his voyage to Scotland his ship was nearly wrecked, and during the storm he vowed a vow that from wherever he landed he would walk barefoot to the nearest church to give thanks to God for having saved him from drowning. When he landed, he found that the nearest church was at Wettkirk, six miles from North Berwick. So, as it was winter at the time, he had to trudge these six miles with bare feet on the frozen ground, and the result was that he caught such a cold that he had rheumatism for the rest of his life. Here are some of the things which he tells us. He went to see King James, whom he describes as a robust-looking man, but very fat. As for the palaces in which the King of Scots lived, he says that they were not so very well furnished as the houses of rich merchants in Germany. What he thought very strange was that the towns had no walls around them, which all the towns on the continent had. He also thought it odd that the houses in the towns were built of stone without lime. The houses in the country, he says, were built of turf, and the poorer ones had the hide of an ox hung up instead of a door. The common people were very poor, but at the same time they ate more meat and fish than was good for them, though bread was so scarce that it was looked on as a dainty. One thing astonished him very much, and that was that the people burned stone instead of wood. Of course the stone was coal, which NES seems never to have seen in other countries. At the church doors he noticed many beggars, who went away with glad faces when these stones were put into their hands. These are some of the things that NES tells us about Scotland, but we must remember that he came from Itwy, which was a rich and beautiful country, so that he could not help thinking that Scotland was a poor place compared with it, as indeed it was. But we know a good deal more about Scotland in the reign of James I than NES Sylveus tells us, and this we learn from the laws James passed. For example we know that there must then have been a great many wolves in the country, though NES says there were none. Every baron in the kingdom was commanded to kill all the wolves' wolves he could find and to give two pens to anyone who brought a wolf's head to him. Four times every year also the baron was to have a great wolf hunt and all his farmers with their servants were to join him in the hunt. And if they did not they had to give a sheep to the baron as a fine. This proves that there must have been many wolves in the land or such a law would not have been passed. There must also have been great number of crows in Scotland in those days, as a very curious law shows us. Every landlord was commanded to kill the young crows every year, as when they grew up they did so much damage to the crops. If the landlord did not obey this law then the tree in which the crows had built their nest was to be taken from him by the king. If the landlord liked however he could fell the tree and pay a fine of five shillings. Such a law as this could never be passed nowadays but in those days it was thought to be quite right that such laws should be made. There were laws about buying and selling which seem very strange to us. No one was allowed to send a horse to any foreign country unless it were more than three years old. No one could buy cloth or any other goods from an Englishman who came to Scotland and no Englishman was allowed to sell anything in Scotland unless he got special permission. Another law declared that no one was to send any gold or silver out of the country. What was the meaning of those laws which seems so odd to us? It was that people then thought that the country would soon be ruined if the people bought things made in other countries and that if money went out of the country it would again. For a long time afterwards people in other countries besides Scotland believed this and the result was that the trade could not grow nor the people become rich. However even in those days there must have been well to do people in Scotland as another law shows us. By this law it was commanded that no one except a lord or a knight was to wear silk or furs or to have pearls or any kind of trimming on his clothes. In the towns no persons except the magistrates and their wives were to wear furs. The farmers also were told that they were not to wear colour clothes but plain ones made at home. Now when such laws are made it means that many people must have had money to spare and that they spent it on fine clothes and dressed themselves above their station. For in those days it was thought right that all classes of the people would each have a dress of its own so that it might be known at once whether a man was a lord or a knight or a magistrate or a craftsman or a farmer. There was one thing about which the kings and the parliament were very anxious and about which many laws were made and that was that every Scotsman should be trained to fight. So the law was that every man from the age of 16 to 60 should possess weapons according to his rank. To make sure that everyone had these weapons there were to be four meetings or weapon shores each year to which all the men in town and country were to come and if they did not have the right weapons they were to be fined. What should we think nowadays if a boy or a man were fined four pens every time he plays at football? Yet such a law was really passed by James and his parliament and for the following reason it was the English archers as we know that had gained so many victories over the Scots and so it was very necessary that the Scots should try to become as good archers as the English. Laws were therefore passed which forbade playing at football as being of no use and which ordered that near every parish church there should be a target and a shooting ground. On every holiday and there were about 60 holidays in the year every male person from 12 years was to shoot at least three arrows at the mark and if he did not he was to give a sheep as a fine. In spite of these laws however the Scots never became good archers and they always preferred to fight with lances and axes. There was a class of people who gave a great deal of trouble in Scotland and in other countries at that time and indeed for a long while afterwards these were the beggars who in those days did not go about alone but in great bands so that they were a terror to everybody. It was not safe to travel about the country by yourself for if you met one of these gangs they would take everything you had and perhaps he'll use you besides. Some of the beggars were quite well off and actually rode on horseback so that the old rhyme is really true quote hark hark the dogs do bark the beggars are coming to town some in rags and some on nags and one in a velvet gown end quote a gang of these beggars would often come to the house of a clergyman or a farmer where they thought they would get plenty to eat and compel the owner of the house to give them a night's lodging there were great numbers of them in all the towns and when the king and his courtiers traveled they would often be surrounded by beggars crying for alms in almost every reign they found these troublesome and dangerous beggars but these laws never seemed to do any good every person between the ages of 14 and 70 were forbidden to beg and if he were caught doing so his cheeks were to be burned with a red hot iron and he was then to be banished from the country before anyone was allowed to beg he had to get a license or to wear a badge on his clothes to show that he was a lawful beggar and even stricter laws than these were passed but they were never really carried out and so the number of beggars went on increasing rather than getting fewer another law passed in James's reign shows how different this country was then from what it is now every agricultural labourer if he was not rich enough to buy an ox to plow for in those days it was oxen that drew the plow and not horses had to dig up a piece of ground six feet broad on every working day and why was such a law made it was because a great deal of land which might have been used for growing crops was not cultivated but was left to itself and so was of no use to the people who lived on it so by such a law as this more ground came to be cultivated and more food was got for the people from all these laws we see how differently people then lived from the way in which we do now but there is one thing that must not be forgotten about these laws they were very seldom carried out and it was the same in other countries besides Scotland and the reason is that the persons who should have enforced them either had not the power to do so or had other things to attend to however even when the laws were not obeyed they at least showed what was the right thing to be done and no doubt many people did obey them end of section 63 this recording is in the public domain section 64 of England Scotland Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the world's story by section 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva March Tappan section 64 on the field of Flodden 1513 by Sir Walter Scott Margaret Tudor sister of Henry VIII of England became the wife of James IV of Scotland now there were certain jewels which were to be given to Margaret to her naturally that aroused the wrath of King James moreover although the two countries were at peace the Lord High Admiral of England seized two Scottish ships and Henry refused to pay for their loss again Henry was about to make war on France and his friends in Scotland were good friends James stood by France he crossed the border and captured some English castles at last in September 1513 the Scots in English met at Flodden Field the editor but see look up on Flodden Bent the Scottish foe has fired his tent and sudden as he spoke from the sharp ridges of the hill all downward to the banks of Till was reed in sable smoke volumed and vast and rolling far the cloud enveloped Scotland's war as down the hill they broke nor Marshall shalt nor Minstrel tone announce their march their tread alone at times one warning trumpet blown at times a stifled hum told England from his mountain throne King James did rushing come scarce could they hear or see their foes until at weapon point they close the clouds of smoke and dust with swords sway and with lances thrust and such a yell was there of sudden and portentous birth as if men fought upon the earth and fiends in upper air long looked the anxious squires their eye could in the darkness not describe at length the freshening western blast beside the shroud of battle cast and first the ridge of mingle of the brightening cloud appears and in the smoke the penins flew as in the storm the white sea mew then Mark Bay dashing broad and far the broken billows of the war and plumed crests of chieftains brave floating light foam upon the way but not distinct they see wide rage the battle on the plain spears jook and falchions flash domain as arrow flight like rain crests rose and stooped and rose again wild and disorderly amid the scene of tumult high they saw lord Marmian's falcon fly and stainless Tunstall's banner white and Edmund Howard's lion bright still bare them bravely in the fight although against them come of Gallant Gordon's many a one and many a stubborn highland man with Huntley and with home far on the left unseen the wild Stanley broke Lenox and Argyle though there the western mountaineer rushed with bare bosom on the spear and flung the feeble targe aside and with both hands the broad sword plied it was vain but fortunate on the right with fickle smile cheered Scotland's fight then fell that spotless banner white the Howard's lion fell yet still lord Marmian's falcon flew with wavering flight while fiercer grew around the battle yell the border slogan rent the sky a home a Gordon was the cry loud were the clanging blows advanced forced back now low now high the pen and sank and rose as bends the barks masked in the Gale when rent our rigging shrouds and sail it wavered mid the foes but as they left the darkening heath more desperate grew the strife of death the English shafts and volleys hailed and headlongs charged their horses assailed front flank and rear the squadrons sweep to break the Scottish circle deep that fought around their king but yet though thick the shafts as snow though charging knights like whirlwinds go though Billman plied the ghastly blow unbroken was the ring the stubborn spearmen still made good their dart impenetrable wood each stepping where his comrades stood the instant that he fell no thought was there of dastard flight linked in that Syrian phalanx type groom fought like noble squire like knight as fearlessly unwell till utter darkness closed her wing or their thin post and woundy king then skillful Surrey's sage commands led back from strife his shattered bands and from the charge they drew as mountain waves from wasted land sweep back to ocean blue then did their loss his foemen know their king their lords their mightiest low they melted from the field of snow when streams are swung and south winds blow dissolves in silent dew tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless clash while many a broken band disordered through her currents dashed to gain the Scottish land to town and tower to down and dale to tell red flottens dismal tale and raise the universal wail tradition, legend, tune and song shall many an age that wail prolong still from the sire the sun shall hear of the stern stripe and carnage drear of flottens fatal field where shivered was fair Scotland's spear and broken was her shield End of Section 64 this recording is in the public domain Section 65 of England Scotland, Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The World Story, Volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva March Tappan Section 65 Edinburgh after Flottenfield 1513 by William E. Atom News of battle News of battle Hark, it's ringing down the street and the archways in the pavement by the clang of herring feet News of battle, who had brought it News of triumph, who should bring tidings from our noble army greetings from our gallant king All last night we watched the beacons blazing on the hills afar each one bearing acid kindled message of the opened war All night long the northern streamers shot across the trembling sky fearful lights that never beckon save when kings or heroes die News of battle, who had brought it All are thronging to the gate Water, water open quickly man, is this a time to wait and the heavy gates are open then a murmur long and loud and a cry of fear and wonder burst from out the bending crowd for they see in battered harness only one hard stricken man and his weary steed is wounded and his cheek is pale and wan Spearless hangs a bloody banner in his weak and drooping hand God, can that be Randolph Murray captain of the city band round him crushed the people crying tell us all, oh tell us true where are they who went to battle Randolph Murray, sworn to you where are they, our brothers children, have they met the English foe why art thou alone unfollowed is it wheel or is it wool like a corpse the grizzly warrior looks from out his helm of steel but no word he speaks in answer only with his armed heel child his weary steed and onward up the city streets they ride father sister's mother's children shrieking praying by his side by the god that made the Randolph tell us what mishands had come then he lifts his ribbon banner and the asker's voice is dumb the elders of the city have met within their hall the men whom good king James had charged to watch the tower and wall your hands are weak with age he said your heart so stout and true so buy thee in the maiden town while others fight for you my trumpet from the border side shall send a blast so clear that all who wait within the gate that stirring sound may hear or if it be the will of heaven that back I never come and if instead of Scottish shouts you hear the English drum then let the warning bells ring out then gird you to the fray then man the walls like burgers stout and fight while fight you may it were better that in fiery flame the roof should thunder down than that the foot of foreign foe should trample in the town then in came Randolph Murray his step was slow and weak and as he doffed his stinted helm the tears ran down his cheek they fell upon his corset and on his mailed hand as he gazed around him wistfully leaning sorely on his brand and none who then beheld him but straight was mild to fear for a bolder and the sterner man never couched a spear they knew so sad a messenger some ghastly news must bring and all of them were fathers and their sons were with the king and up then rose the provost a brave old man was he of ancient name and nightly fame and chivalrous degree oh woeful now was the old man's look and he spoke right heavily now Randolph tell thy tidings however sharp they be woe is written on thy visage death is looking from thy face speak so it be of overthrow it cannot be disgrace right bitter was the agony that wronged that soldier proud thrice to destroy to answer and thrice he groaned aloud then he gave the ribbon banner to the old man shaking hand saying that is all I bring you from the bravest of the land ay you may look upon it it was guarded well and long by your brothers and your children by the valiant and the strong one by one they fell around it as the archers lay them low grimly dying still unconquered with their faces to the foe ay you well may look upon it there is more than honor there else be sure I had not brought it from the field of dark despair never yet was the royal banner steeped in such a costly die it hath lain upon a bosom where no other shroud shall lie sirs I charge you keep it holy keep it as a sacred thing for the stain you see upon it was the lifeblood of your king woe woe and lamentation what a piteous cry was there widows, maidens, mothers, children shrieking sobbing in despair oh the blackest day for Scotland that she ever knew before oh our king the good the noble shall we never see him more woe to us and woe to Scotland oh our sons our sons and men surely some have escaped the Sotherham surely some will come again till the oak that fell last winter shall up rear its shattered stem wives and mothers of Dunedin you may look in vain for them end of section 65 this recording is in the public domain section 66 of England, Scotland Ireland and Wales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Piotr Natter the world's story, volume 10 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales edited by Eva Marstappen section 66 The Goodman of Balangee between 1513 and 1542 Walter Scott James V had a custom of going about the country disguised as a private person in order that he might hear complaints which might not otherwise reach his ears and perhaps that he might enjoy amusements which he could not have partaken of in his avowed royal character this is also said to have been a custom of James IV, his father and several adventures are related of what befell them on such occasions when James V travelled in disguise he used a name which was known only to some of his principal nobility and attendants he was called The Goodman the tenant that is of Balangee Balangee is a steep pass which leads down behind the castle of Stirling once upon a time when the court was feasting in Stirling the king sent for some venison from the neighbouring hills the deer was killed and put on horses back to be transported to Stirling and they had to pass the castle gates of Arnpryor belonging to a chief of the Buchanans who chanced to have a considerable number of guests with him it was late and the company was rather short of victuals though they had much more than enough of liquor the chief seeing so much fat venison passing his very door seized on it and to the expostulations of the keepers who told him that it belonged to King James he answered insolently that if James was king of Scotland Buchanan was king in Kippen being the name of the district in which the cousin of Arnpryor lay on hearing what had happened the king got on horseback and drove instantly from Stirling to Buchanan's house where he found a strong, fierce looking Highlander with an axe on his shoulder standing sentinel at the door this grim warden refused the king admittance saying Laird of Arnpryor was at dinner and would not be disturbed yet go up the company my good friend said the king and tell him that the good man of Balengig is come to feast with the king of Kippen the porter went grumbling into the house and told his master that there was a fellow with a red beard at the gate who called himself the good man of Balengig and said he was come to die with the king of Kippen as soon as Buchanan heard these words he knew that the king was come in person and hastened down to kneel at James's feet and to ask his forgiveness for his insolent behavior but the king who only meant to give him a fright forgave him freely and going into the castle feasted on his own venison which Buchanan had intercepted Buchanan of Arnpryor was ever afterwards called the king of Kippen upon another occasion king James being alone and in disguise fell into a quarrel with some gypsies or other vagrants and was assaulted by four or five of them this chanced to be very near the bridge of Cramond so the king got into the bridge which as it was high and narrow enabled him to defend himself with his sword against the number of persons by whom he was attacked there was a poor man thrashing corn in a barn nearby who came out on hearing the noise of the scuffle and seeing one man defending himself against numbers gallantly took the king's part with his flail to such a good purpose that the gypsies were obliged to fly the husband man then took the king brought him a towel and water to wash the blood from his hands and face and finally walked with him a little way towards Edinburgh in case he should be again attacked on the way the king asked his companion what and who he was the laborer answered that his name was John Howison and that he was a bondsman on the farm of Brahet near Cramond which belonged to the king of Scotland James then asked the poor man if there was any wish in the world that he really desired should be gratified and honest John confessed he should think himself the happiest man in Scotland where he bought the proprietor of the farm on which he wrought as a laborer he then asked the king in turn who he was and James replied as usual that he was the good man of Balenguig a poor man who had a small appointment about the palace but he added that if John Howison would come to see him on the next Sunday he would endeavour to repay his manful assistance and at least give him the pleasure of seeing the royal apartments John put in his best clothes as you may suppose and appearing at a poster gate of the palace inquired for the good man of Balenguig the king had given orders that he should be admitted and John found his friend the good man in the same disguise which he had formerly worn the king still preserving the character of an inferior officer of the household conducted John Howison from one apartment of the palace to another and was amused with his wonder and his remarks at length James asked his visitor if he should like to see the king to which John replied nothing would delight him so much if he could do so without giving offence the good man of Balenguig of course undertook that the king would not be angry but said John how am I to know his grace from the nobles who will be all about him easily replied his companion all the others will be uncovered the king alone will wear his hat or bonnets so speaking King James introduced the countryman into a great hall which was filled by the nobility and officers of the crown John was a little frightened and drew close to his attendants but was still unable to distinguish the king I told you that you should know him by his wearing his hat said the conductor then said John after he had again looked around the room it must be either you or me the first two are bareheaded the king laughed at John's fancy and that the good young man might have occasion for a mouth also he made him a present of the farm of Brayhead which he had wished so much to possess on condition that John Howison or his successor should be ready to present an ear and basin for the king to wash his hands when his majesty should come to Holyrood palace or should pass the bridge of Cramond accordingly in the year 1822 when George IV came to Scotland the descendant of John Howison of Brayhead who still possessed the estate which was given to his ancestor appeared at a solemn festival and offered his majesty water from a silver ear that he might perform the service by which he held his lens James V was very fond of hunting and when he pursued that amusement in the highlands he used to wear the peculiar dress of that country having a long and white highland shirt and a blanket of tartan velvet with plaid hose and everything else corresponding the accounts for these are in the books of his chamberlain still preserved on one occasion when the king had an ambassador of the pope along with him with various foreigners of distinction they were splendidly entertained by the Earl of Athol in the huge and singular rustic palace it was built of timber in the midst of a great meadow and surrounded by moats or fossils full of the most delicate fish it was enclosed and defended by towers as if it had been a regular castle and had within it many apartments which were decked with flowers and branches so that in treading them one seemed to be in a garden here were all kinds of game and other provisions in abundance with many cooks to make them ready and plenty of the most costly spices and wines the Italian ambassador was greatly surprised to see among rocks and wilderness which seemed to be the very extremity of the world such good lodgings and so magnificent and entertainment but what surprised him most of all was to see the Highlanders set fire to the wooden castle as soon as the hunting was over and the king in the act of departing such is the constant practice of our Highlanders said James to the ambassador however well they may be lodged overnight they always burned their lodgings before they leave it by this the king intimated the glory and lawless habits displayed by these mountaineers the reign of James V was not alone distinguished by his personal adventures and pastimes but is honourably remembered on account of wise laws made for the government of his people and for restraining the crimes and violence which were frequently practiced among them especially those of assassination burning of houses and driving of cattle the usual means and ready by which powerful chiefs avenged themselves of their feudal enemies and of Section 66 this recording is in the public domain John Knox the Scottish reformer took refuge from his enemies in a castle which soon fell into the hands of the French at the request of Edward VI he was released and became one of the chaplains of that monarch on the accession of Mary he was obliged to leave England and withdrew to Geneva in 1559 he returned to Scotland and was promptly declared to be an outlaw and rebel nevertheless he went on firstly to Dundee to Perth and then to St Andrews the Protestants recalled the congregation the laymen who were their leaders were chiefly noblemen and these were known as the lords of the congregation to them Knox declared that he intended to preach in the cathedral church the Archbishop threatened and his friends pleaded but he was as little affected by the one as by the other and preached on four successive days his sermons must have been powerful for provosts, bailes and inhabitants determined to set up the reformed worship in their town by way of preparation they tore away the images and pictures in the church and leveled the monasteries in 1561 Mary Queen of Scots returned from France and met in many violent interviews a belligerent reformer Knox was the leading spirit in the reformation in Scotland and it is chiefly to him that the establishment of the Scottish Kirk should do end of section 67 this recording is in the public domain