CHAPTER IX.
THROUGH DEATH'S DARK VALE.
Now this Eskdale was the Johnstone's own country, and one in which I wasnoways at home--a country of wide green holms and deep blind "hopes" orhollows among the mountains, where the cloud shadows bide and linger,and whence they come out again to scud swiftly over the hips of thehills. I had been trained to be pleasant and prudent in my conversation,and there was little to take me out of myself in the company I hadperforce to keep. Yet I dared not withdraw myself from their train, lestthe jealousy of our band, which was latent among the more scurril ofthem, should break out. So I rode mostly silent, but with a pleasedcountenance which belied my heart.
Indeed, had it not been for the good liking which everywhere pursued mycousin Lochinvar, I cannot tell what might have come out of the dislikefor us "Glenkens Whiggies," which was their mildest word for us. Yet myman Hugh never said a word, for he was a prudent lad and slow of speech;while I, being no man of war, also looked well to my words, and let awary tongue keep my head. As for John Meiklewood, honest man, he tooksuddenly one morning what he termed a "sair income in his wame," andleave being scantily asked, he hied him home to his wife and weans atthe Mains of Earlstoun.
Now this was the manner of our march. Claverhouse sent his horsescouring up on the tops of the hills and along the higher grounds, whilehis foot quartered the lower districts, bringing all such as were in anyway suspicious to the kirkyards to be examined. Old and young, men andwomen alike, were taken; and often--chiefly, it is true, behindClaverhouse's back--the soldiers were most cruel at the business, makingmy blood boil, till I thought that I must fly out and strike some ofthem. I wondered not any longer that my father had taken to the hill,sick to death of the black terror which Charles's men caused daily tofall upon all around them, wherever in Scotland men cared enough abouttheir religion to suffer for it.
How my cousin Lochinvar stood it I cannot tell. Indeed I think that butfor the teaching of his mother, and the presence of John Scarlet, who atthis time was a great King's man and of much influence with Wat Gordon,he had been as much incensed as I.
One morning in especial I mind well. It was a Tuesday, and our companywas under the command of this Johnstone of Westerha', who of all theclan, being a turncoat, was the cruellest and the worst. For the man wasin his own country, and among his own kenned faces, his holders andcottiers--so that the slaughter of them was as easy as killing chickensreared by hand.
And even Claverhouse rather suffered, and shut his eyes to it, than tookpart in the hard driving.
"Draw your reins here," the Johnstone would say, as we came to theloaning foot of some little white lime-washed house with a reeking lum."There are some Bible folk here that wad be none the worse o' a bitca'!"
So he rode up to the poor muirland housie sitting by itself all aloneamong the red heather. Mostly the folk had marked us come, and oftenthere was no one to be seen, but, as it might be, a bairn or two playingabout the green.
Then he would have these poor bits of things gathered up and begin tofear them, or contrariwise to offer them fair things if only they wouldtell where their parents were, and who were used to come about thehouse.
There is a place, Shieldhill by name, that sits blithely on thebrae-face at the entering in of Annandale. The country thereabouts isnot very wild, and there are many cotter houses set about the holms anddotted among the knowes. Westerha' enclosed the whole with a ring of hismen, and came upon them as he thought unawares, for he said the placewas like a conventicle, and rife with psalm-singers. But he was a wildman when he found the men and women all fled, and only the bairns, asbefore, feared mostly out of their lives, sitting cowering together bythe ingle, or hiding about the byres.
"I'll fear them waur," said Westerha', as he came to the third house andfound as before only two-three weans, "or my name is no JamesJohnstone."
So what did this ill-set Johnstone do, but gather them all up into aknot by a great thorn-tree that grows on the slope. This Tuesday mornwas clear and sunny--not bright, but with a kind of diffused light, warmand without shadows, as if the whole arch of the lift were but one sun,yet not so bright as the sun we mostly have.
There were some thirty bairns by the tree, mostly of Westerha's ownname, save those that were Jardines, Grahams, and Charterises, for thoseare the common names of that country-side. The children stood together,huddled in a cloud, too frightened to speak or even to cry aloud. Andone thing I noticed, that the lassie bairns were stiller and grat not somuch as the boys--all save one, who was a laddie of about ten years. Hestood with his hands behind his back, and his face was very white; buthe threw back his head and looked the dragoons and Annandale's wildriders fair in the face as one that has conquered fear.
Then Westerha' rode forward almost to the midst of the cloud of bairns,"gollering" and roaring at the bit things to frighten them, as was hiscustom with such. They were mostly from six to ten years of their age;and when I saw them thus with their feared white faces, I wished that Ihad been six foot of my inches, and with twenty good men of the Glen atmy back. But I minded that I was but a boy--"stay-at-home John," asSandy called me--and worth nothing with my hands. So I could only fretand be silent. I looked for my cousin Lochinvar, but he was riding atthe Graham's bridle rein, and that day I saw nothing of him. But Iwondered how this matter of the bairns liked him.
So Westerha' rode nearer to them, shouting like a shepherd crying downthe wind tempestuously, when his dogs are working sourly.
"Hark ye," he cried, "ill bairns that ye are, ye are all to dee, andthat quickly, unless ye answer me what I shall ask of you."
Then I saw something that I had never seen but among the sheep, and itwas a most pitiful and heart-wringing thing to see, though now in thetelling it seems no great matter. There is a time of the year when it isfitting that the lambs should be separated from the ewes; and it evertouches me nearly to see the flock of poor lammies when first the dogscome near to them to begin the work, and wear them in the direction inwhich they are to depart. All their little lives the lambs had run totheir mothers at the first hint of danger. Now they have no mothers toflee to, and you can see them huddle and pack in a frightened solidbunch, quivering with apprehension, all with their sweet little winsomefaces turned one way. Then as the dogs run nearer to start them, therecomes from them a little low broken-hearted bleating, as if terror weredriving the cry out of them against their wills. Thus it is with thelambs on the hill, and so also it was with the bairns that clungtogether in a cluster on the brae-face.
A party of soldiers was now drawn out before them, and the young thingswere bid look into the black muzzles of the muskets. They were indeedloaded only with powder, but the children were not to know that.
"Now," cried Westerha', "tell me who comes to your houses at night, andwho goes away early in the morning!"
The children crept closer to one another, but none of them answered.Whereupon Westerha' indicated one with his finger--the lad who stood upso straightly and held his head back.
"You, young Cock-of-the-heather, what might be your black Whig's name?"
"Juist the same as your honour's--James Johnstone!" replied the boy, inno way abashed.
Methought there ran a titter of laughter among the soldiers, forWesterha' was noways so well liked among the soldiers as Claverhouse oreven roaring Grier of Lag.
"And what is your father's name?" continued Westerha', bending just oneblack look upon the lad.
"James Johnstone!" yet again replied the boy.
Back in the ranks some one laughed.
Westerhall flung an oath over his shoulder.
"Who was the man who laughed? I shall teach you to laugh at theJohnstone in his own country!"
"It was Jeems Johnstone of Wanphray that laughed, your honour," repliedthe calm voice of a troop-sergeant.
Then Westerha' set himself without another word to the work ofexamination, which suited him well.
"You will not answer, young rebels," he cried, "ken you wha
t they getthat will not speak when the King bids them?"
"Are you the King?" said the lad of ten who had called himself JamesJohnstone.
At this Westerhall waxed perfectly furious, with a pale and shaking furythat I liked not to see. But indeed the whole was so distasteful to methat sometimes I could but turn my head away.
"Now, ill bairns," said Westerha', "and you, my young rebel-namesake,hearken ye. The King's command is not to be made light of. And I tellyou plainly that as you will not answer, I am resolved that you shallall be shot dead on the spot!"
With that he sent men to set them out in rows, and make them kneel downwith kerchiefs over their eyes.
Now when the soldiers came near to the huddled cluster of bairns, thatsame little heart-broken bleating which I have heard the lambs make,broke again from them. It made my heart bleed and the nerves tingle inmy palms. And this was King Charles Stuart making war! It had not beenhis father's way.
But the soldiers, though some few were smiling a little as at anexcellent play, were mostly black ashamed. Nevertheless they took thebairns and made them kneel, for that was the order, and without mutinythey could not better it.
"Sodger-man, wull ye let me tak' my wee brither by the hand and dee thatway? I think he wad thole it better!" said a little maid of eight,looking up.
And the soldier let go a great oath and looked at Westerha' as though hecould have slain him.
"Bonny wark," he cried, "deil burn me gin I listed for this!"
But the little lass had already taken her brother by the hand.
"Bend doon bonny, Alec my man, doon on your knees!" said she.
The boy glanced up at her. He had long yellow hair like Jean Hamilton'slittle Alec.
"Wull it be sair?" he asked. "Think ye, Maggie? I houp it'll no be awfu'sair!"
"Na, Alec," his sister made answer, "it'll no be either lang or sair."
But the boy of ten, whose name was James Johnstone, neither bent norknelt.
"I hae dune nae wrang. I'll juist dee this way," he said; and he stoodup like one that straightens himself at drill.
Then Westerha' bid fire over the bairns' heads, which was cruel, cruelwork, and only some of the soldiers did it. But even the few pieces thatwent off made a great noise in that lonely place. At the sound of themuskets some of the bairns fell forward on their faces as if they hadbeen really shot. Some leapt in the air, but the most part knelt quietlyand composedly.
The little boy Alec, whose sister had his hand clasped in hers, made asif he would rise.
"Bide ye doon, Alec," she said, very quietly, "it's no oor turn yet!"
At this the heart within me gave way, and I roared out in my helplesspain a perfect "gowl" of anger and grief.
"Bonny Whigs ye are," cried Westerha', "to dee withoot even a prayer.Put up a prayer this minute, for ye shall all dee, every one of you."
And the boy James Johnstone made answer to him:
"Sir, we cannot pray, for we be too young to pray."
"You are not too young to rebel, nor yet to die for it!" was thebrute-beast's answer.
Then with that the little girl held up a hand as if she were answering adominie in a class.
"An it please ye, sir," she said, "me an' Alec canna pray, but we cansing 'The Lord's my Shepherd,' gin that wull do! My mither learned it usafore she gaed awa'."
And before any one could stop her, she stood up like one that leads thesinging in a kirk. "Stan' up, Alec, my wee mannie," she said.
Then all the bairns stood up. I declare it minded me of Bethlehem andthe night when Herod's troopers rode down to look for Mary's bonnyBairn.
Then from the lips of the babes and sucklings arose the quaveringstrains:
"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want. He makes me down to lie In pastures green; He leadeth me The quiet waters by."
As they sang I gripped out my pistols and began to sort and prime them,hardly knowing what I did. For I was resolved to make a break for it,and, at the least, to blow a hole in James Johnstone of Westerha' thatwould mar him for life before I suffered any more of it.
But as they sang I saw trooper after trooper turn away his head, for,being Scots bairns, they had all learned that psalm. The ranks shook.Man after man fell out, and I saw the tears happing down their cheeks.But it was Douglas of Morton, that stark persecutor, who first brokedown.
"Curse it, Westerha'," he cried, "I canna thole this langer. I'll warnae mair wi' bairns for a' the earldom i' the North."
And at last even Westerha' turned his bridle rein, and rode away fromoff the bonny holms of Shieldhill, for the victory was to the bairns. Iwonder what his thoughts were, for he too had learned that psalm at theknees of his mother. And as the troopers rode loosely up hill and downbrae, broken and ashamed, the sound of these bairns' singing followedafter them, and soughing across the fells came the words:
"Yea, though I walk in Death's dark vale, Yet will I fear none ill: For Thou art with me; and Thy rod And staff me comfort still."
Then Westerha' swore a great oath and put the spurs in his horse to getclear of the sweet singing.