by G. A. Henty
Chapter XIX
The Convent of St. Kenneth
Bruce, as the result of his successes, was now able to leavehis fastnesses and establish himself in the districts of Carrick,Kyle, and Cunningham. Pembroke had established himself at BothwellCastle, and sent a challenge to Bruce to meet him with his force atLoudon Hill. Although his previous experience of such challengeswas unfortunate, Bruce accepted the offer. He had learned muchsince the battle of Methven, and was not likely again to be caughtasleep; on the 9th of May he assembled his forces at Loudon Hill.
It was but a small following. Douglas had brought 100 menfrom Douglasdale, and Archie Forbes had as many under his banner.Bruce's own vassals had gathered 200 strong, and as many more ofthe country people had joined; but in all, the Scotch force didnot exceed 600 men, almost entirely on foot and armed with spears.Bruce at once reconnoitred the ground to discover a spot where hislittle force might best withstand the shock of Pembroke's chivalry.He found that at one place near the hill the road crossed a levelmeadow with deep morasses on either side. He strengthened the positionwith trenches, and calmly awaited the approach of his enemy. Uponthe following day Pembroke's army was seen approaching, numbering3000 knights and mounted men-at-arms, all in complete armour. Theywere formed in two divisions. The battle was almost a repetitionof that which had been fought by Wallace near the same spot. TheEnglish chivalry levelled their spears and charged with proudconfidence of their ability to sweep away the rabble of spearmenin front of them. Their flanks became entangled in the morasses;their centre tried in vain to break through the hedge of Scottishspears, and when they were in confusion, the king, his brotherEdward, Douglas, Archie Forbes, and some twenty other mounted mendashed through a gap in the spearmen and fell upon them. The seconddivision, seeing the first broken and in confusion, turned and tookto flight at once, and Pembroke and his attendants rode, withoutdrawing rein, to Bothwell Castle.
A few days later Bruce encountered and defeated Ralph de Monthermer,Earl of Gloucester, and compelled him to shut himself up in theCastle of Ayr.
Archie Forbes was not present at the second battle, for upon themorning after the fight at Loudon Hill he was aroused by his servantentering his tent.
"A messenger has just brought this," he said, handing him a smallpacket. "He bids me tell you that the sender is a prisoner in theconvent of St. Kenneth, on Loch Leven, and prays your aid."
Archie opened the packet and found within it the ring he had givento Marjory at Dunstaffnage. Without a moment's delay he hurriedto the king and begged permission to leave him for a short time onurgent business, taking with him twenty of his retainers.
"What is your urgent business, Sir Archie?" the king asked. "A ladyis in the case, I warrant me. Whenever a young knight has urgentbusiness, be sure that a lady is in question. Now mind, Sir Archie,I have, as I have told you, set my heart upon marrying you toMistress Mary Kerr, and so at once putting an end to a long feudand doubling your possessions. Her retainers fought well yesterday,and the least I can do to reward so splendid a damsel is to bestowupon her the hand of my bravest knight."
"I fear, sire," Archie said laughing, "that she must be contentwith another. There are plenty who will deem themselves well paidfor their services in your cause by the gift of the hand of so richan heiress. But I must fain be excused; for as I told you, sire,when we were together in Rathlin Island, my heart was otherwisebestowed."
"What! to the niece of that malignant enemy of mine, Alexander ofLorne?" the king said laughing. "Her friends would rather see youon the gibbet than at the altar."
"I care nought for her friends," Archie said, "if I can get herself.My own lands are wide enough, and I need no dowry with my wife."
"I see you are hopeless," the king replied. "Well, go, Archie; butwhatever be your errand, beware of the Lornes. Remember I havescarce begun to win Scotland yet, and cannot spare you."
A quarter of an hour later Archie, with twenty picked men, tookhis way northward. Avoiding all towns and frequented roads, Archiemarched rapidly north to the point of Renfrew and crossed the Firthof Clyde by boat; then he kept north round the head of Loch Fyne,and avoiding Dalmally skirted the head of Loch Etive and the slopesof Ben Nevis, and so came down on Loch Leven.
The convent stood at the extremity of a promontory jutting into thelake. The neck was very narrow, and across it were strong walls,with a gate and flanking towers. Between this wall and the conventwas the garden where the inmates walked and enjoyed the air freefrom the sight of men, save, indeed, of fishers who might be passingin their boats.
Outside the wall, on the shore of the lake, stood a large village;and here a strong body of the retainers of the convent were alwayson guard, for at St. Kenneth were many of the daughters of Scotchnobles, sent there either to be out of the way during the troublesor to be educated by the nuns. Although the terrors of sacrilegeand the ban of the church might well deter any from laying handsupon the convent, yet even in those days of superstition some werefound so fierce and irreverent as to dare even the anger of thechurch to carry out their wishes; and the possession of some of theseheiresses might well enable them to make good terms for themselvesboth with the church and the relations of their captives. Therefore anumber of the retainers were always under arms, a guard was placedon the gate, and lookouts on the flanking towers--their dutybeing not only to watch the land side, but to shout orders to keepat a distance to any fisherman who might approach too closely tothe promontory.
Archie left his party in the forest under the command of WilliamOrr. He dressed himself as a mountaineer, and, accompanied by ClunyCampbell, and carrying a buck which they had shot in the forest,went boldly down into the village. He soon got into conversationwith an old fisherman, and offered to exchange the deer for driedfish. The bargain was quickly struck, and then Archie said:
"I have never been out on the lake, and would fain have a view ofthe convent from the water. Will you take me and my brother outfor a row?"
The fisherman, who had made a good bargain, at once assented, androwed Archie and Cluny far out into the lake.
As they passed along at some distance Archie saw that the shore wasin several places smooth and shelving, and that there would be nodifficulty in effecting a landing. He saw also that there were manyclumps of trees and shrubs in the garden.
"And do the nuns and the ladies at the convent often walk there?"he asked the fisherman.
"Oh yes," he answered; "of an evening as I come back from fishingI can see numbers of them walking there. When the vesper bell ringsthey all go in. That is the chapel adjoining the convent on thisside."
"It is a strong building," Archie said as when past the end ofthe promontory they obtained a full view of it. "It is more likea castle than a convent."
"It had need be strong," the old man said; "for some of therichest heiresses in Scotland are shut up there. On the land sideI believe there are no windows on the lower storey, and the dooris said to be of solid iron. The windows on that side are allstrongly barred; and he would have hard work, indeed, who wantedby force or stratagem to steal one of the pretty birds out of thatcage."
Archie had no idea of using force; and although he had been to someextent concerned in the breach of sanctuary at Dumfries, he wouldhave shrunk from the idea of violating the sanctuary of St. Kenneth.But to his mind there was no breach whatever of that sanctuary inaiding one kept there against her will to make her escape. Havingascertained all that he wished to know, he bade the boatman returnto shore.
"Keep a lookout for me," he said, "for I may return in a few dayswith another buck, and may bring a comrade or two with me who wouldlike an afternoon's fishing on the lake. I suppose you could lendme your boat and nets?"
"Assuredly," the fisherman replied. "You will not mind taking intoconsideration the hire of the boat in agreeing for the weight offish to be given for the stag?"
Archie nodded, secretly amused at the old man's covetousness, forhe knew that the weight of fish he had given him for the
stag whichhe had brought down was not one fourth the value of the meat.
He then returned with Cluny to the band. Some time before daybreakhe came down to the place again, and, entering the water quietly,at a distance from the promontory, swam noiselessly out, and landedat the garden, and there concealed himself in a clump of bushes.Daylight came. An hour later some of the nuns of the second order,who belonged to poor families and acted as servants in the convent,came out into the garden, and busied themselves with the cultivationof the flowers, vegetables, and herbs. Not till the afternoon didany of the other inmates appear; but at about four o'clock thegreat door of the convent opened, and a number of women and girlsstreamed out. The former were all in nuns' attire, as were a fewof the latter, but their garb was somewhat different from that ofthe elder sisters; these were the novices. The greater number,however, of the girls were dressed in ordinary attire, and were thepupils of the convent. While the nuns walked quietly up and downor sat on benches and read, the pupils scattered in groups laughingand talking merrily together. Among these Archie looked eagerlyfor Marjory. He felt sure that her imprisonment could be detentiononly, and not rigorous seclusion. Presently he espied her. Shewas walking with two of the nuns and three or four of the elderresidents at the convent, for many of these were past the age ofpupildom; and were there simply as a safe place of refuge duringtroublous times. The conversation appeared to be an animated one.It was not for some time that the group passed within hearing ofArchie's place of concealment. Then Archie heard the voice of oneof the nuns raised in anger:
"It is monstrous what you say, and it is presumptuous and wickedfor a young girl of eighteen to form opinions for herself. Whatshould we come to if every young woman were to venture to think andjudge for herself? Discord and disorder would be wrought in everyfamily. All your relations and friends are opposed to this sacrilegiousmurderer, Robert Bruce. The church has solemnly banned him, andyet you venture to uphold his cause."
"But the Bishop of Glasgow," Marjory said, "and many other goodprelates of our church side with him, and surely they must be goodjudges whether his sins are unpardonable."
"Do not argue with me," the sister said angrily. "I tell you thisobstinacy will be permitted no longer. Had it not been that Alexanderof Lorne begged that we would not be harsh with you, steps wouldlong since have been taken to bring you to reason; but we can nolonger permit this advocacy of rebellion, and the last unmaidenlystep which you took of setting at defiance your friends and relatives,and even of sending messages hence, must be punished. The abbessbade me reason with you and try and turn your obstinate will. Yourcousins of Badenoch here have appealed to you in vain. This can nolonger be tolerated. The lady abbess bids me tell you that she givesyou three days to renounce the rebel opinions you have so frowardlyheld, and to accept the husband whom your uncle and guardian haschosen for you, your cousin John of Lorne, his son. During thattime none will speak to you. If at the end of three days you arestill contumacious you will be confined to your cell on bread andwater until better thoughts come to you."
While the conversation had been going on, the little group hadhalted near the bushes, and they now turned away, leaving Marjorystanding by herself. The girl sat down on a bench close to whereshe had been standing, exclaiming to herself as she did so, "Theymay shut me up as a prisoner for life, but I will never consent totake sides against the cause of Scotland or to marry John of Lorne.Oh! who is there?" she exclaimed, starting suddenly to her feet asa man's voice behind her said:
"Quite right, Mistress Marjory, well and bravely resolved; but praysit down again, and assume an attitude of indifference."
"Who is it that speaks?" the girl asked in a tremulous voice,resuming her seat.
"It is your true knight, lady, Archibald Forbes, who has come torescue you from this captivity."
"But how can you rescue me?" the girl asked after a long pause. "Doyou know the consequences if you are found here within the boundsof the convent?"
"I care nothing for the consequences," Archie said. "I have in thewoods twenty stout followers. I propose tomorrow to be with threeof them on the lake afishing. If you, when the bell rings for yourreturn in the evening, will enter that little copse by the side ofthe lake, and will show yourself at the water's edge, we will rowstraight in and take you off long ere the guards can come hitherto hinder us. The lake is narrow, and we can reach the other sidebefore any boat can overtake us. There my followers will be awaitingus, and we can escort you to a place of safety. It is fortunatethat you are ordered to be apart from the rest; none therefore willmark you as you linger behind when the bell rings for vespers."
Marjory was silent for some time.
"But, Sir Knight," she said, "whither am I to go? for of all myfriends not one, save the good priest, but is leagued against me."
"I can take you either to the Bishop of Glasgow, who is a friend ofthe Bruce and whom I know well--he will, I am sure, take chargeof you--or, if you will, lady, I can place you with my mother,who will receive you as a daughter."
"But what," the girl said hesitatingly, "will people say at myrunning away from a convent with a young knight?"
"Let them say what they will," Archie said. "All good Scots, whenthey know that you have been in prison here solely from the loveof your country, will applaud the deed; and should you prefer it,the king will, I know, place you in charge of the wife of one ofthe nobles who adheres to him, and will give you his protectionand countenance. Think, lady, if you do not take this opportunityof gaining your freedom, it may never occur again, for if you areonce shut up in your cell, as I heard threatened, nothing save anattack by force of arms, which would be sheer sacrilege, can rescueyou from it. Surely," he urged, as the girl still remained silent,"you can trust yourself with me. Do I not owe my life to you? andI swear that so long as you remain in my charge I will treat youas my sister in all honour and respect."
For some minutes the girl made no answer. At length she said,standing up, and half turning toward the bushes:
"I will trust you, Sir Archie. I know you to be a brave and honourableknight, and I will trust you. I know 'tis a strange step to take,and the world will blame me; but what can I do? If I refuse youroffer I shall be kept a prisoner here until I consent to marry Johnof Lorne, whom I hate, for he is as rough and cruel as his father,without the kindness of heart, which, save in his angry moments,the latter has ever had toward me. All my relations are againstme, and struggle against my fate as I may, I must in the end bendto their will if I remain here. 'Tis a hard choice to make; butwhat can I do? Yes, I will trust to your honour; and may God andall the saints punish you if you are false to the trust! Tomorrowevening, as the vespers are chiming, I will be at the water's edge,behind yonder clump of bushes."
Then, with head bent down and slow steps, Marjory returned tothe convent, none addressing her as she passed through the groupsof her companions, the order that she was to be shut out from therest having been already issued. Archie remained in his place ofconcealment until the gardens were deserted and night had fallen.Then he left his hiding place, and, entering the lake, swam quietlyaway, and landed far beyond the village. An hour's walk broughthim to the encampment of his comrades.
At daybreak next morning the band, under the command of WilliamOrr, started for their long march round the head of the lake tothe position which they were to take up on the opposite side facingthe convent, Archie choosing three of the number most accustomedto the handling of oars to remain with him. With these he set outon a hunt as soon as the main body had left, and by midday hadsucceeded in killing a stag. With this swung on a pole carried byhis followers Archie proceeded to the village. He speedily foundthe fisherman with whom he had before bargained.
"I did not expect you back again so soon," the old man said.
"We killed a buck this morning," Archie said carelessly, "and myfriends thought that the afternoon would be fine for fishing."
"You can try if you like," the fisherman said, "but I fear thatyou will have but li
ttle sport. The day is too bright and clear,and the fish will be sulking at the bottom of the lake."
"We will try," Archie said, "nevertheless. Even if the sport isbad it will be pleasant out on the lake, and if we catch nothing wewill get you to give us some fresh fish instead of dry. The folksin the hills will be no wiser, and it will not do for us to returnempty handed."
The fisherman assented, and placed the oars and nets in the boat,and Archie and his companions entering rowed out into the middleof the lake, and then throwing over the nets busied themselves withfishing.
As the old man had predicted, their sport was but small, but thisconcerned them little. Thinking that they might be watched, theycontinued steadily all the afternoon casting and drawing in thenets, until the sun neared the horizon. Then they gathered thenets into the boat and rowed quietly towards the shore. Just asthey were abreast the end of the promontory the bell of the chapelbegan to ring the vespers. A few more strokes and Archie couldsee the clump of bushes.
"Row quietly now," he said, still steering toward the village.
He was about a hundred yards distant from the shore of the conventgarden. Just as he came abreast of the bushes the foliage was partedand Marjory appeared at the edge of the water. In an instant theboat's head was turned toward shore, and the three rowers bent tothe oars.
A shout from the watchman on the turret showed that he had beenwatching the boat and that this sudden change of its course hadexcited his alarm. The shout was repeated again and again as theboat neared the shore, and just as the keel grated on the sand theouter gate was opened and some armed men were seen running into thegarden, but they were still two hundred yards away. Marjory leaptlightly into the boat; the men pushed off, and before the retainersof the convent reached the spot the boat was speeding away over thelake. Archie gave up to Marjory his seat in the stern, and himselftook an oar.
Loch Leven, though of considerable length, is narrow, and the boatwas nearly a third of the way across it before two or three craftwere seen putting out from the village in pursuit, and althoughthese gained somewhat, the fugitives reached the other shore a longdistance in advance. William Orr and his men were at the landingplace, and soon the whole party were hurrying through the wood.They had no fear of instant pursuit, for even in the fast gatheringgloom those in the boats would have perceived the accession offorce which they had received on landing, and would not ventureto follow. But before morning the news of the evasion would spreadfar and wide, and there would be a hot pursuit among the mountains.
Scarce a word had been spoken in the boat. Marjory was pale andagitated, and Archie thought it best to leave her to herself. Onthe way through the wood he kept beside her, assisting her overrough places, and occasionally saying a few encouraging words. Whendarkness had completely set in three or four torches were lit, andthey continued their way until midnight. Several times Archie hadproposed a halt, but Marjory insisted that she was perfectly ableto continue her way for some time longer.
At midnight, however, he halted.
"We will stop here," he said. "My men have been marching ever sincedaybreak, and tomorrow we must journey fast and far. I propose thatwe keep due east for some time and then along by Loch Rannoch, thenacross the Grampians by the pass of Killiecrankie, when we can makedown to Perth, and so to Stirling. The news of your escape willfly fast to the south, and the tracks to Tarbert and the Clydewill all be watched; but if we start at daybreak we shall be far onour way east before they begin to search the hills here; and evenif they think of our making in this direction, we shall be atKilliecrankie before they can cut us off."