*CHAPTER IX*
*THE STORY OF ALEXANDER MAIN*
I made for my hiding-place, and, snugly covered up in my lair, I wassoon asleep. In the late afternoon I awoke. What it was that woke me Iknow not, but as I lay half-conscious in the dreamy shallows that liearound the sea of sleep, I heard something stir among the brackens notfar from me. I raised myself on an elbow, and separating the frondsabove me gazed in the direction from which the sound came. Less than ascore of paces away a winsome girl was tripping briskly along thehill-side. Her head was crowned with masses of chestnut-brown hairwhich glistened with a golden sheen where the sunlight caught it. Overher shoulders was flung lightly a plaid of shepherd's tartan. Her gownwas of a dull reddish colour, and she walked lightly, with elastic step.I was not near enough, nor dare I, lest I should be seen, crane my neckbeyond my hiding-place to see her features clearly, but I could tellthat she was fair to look upon. My eyes followed her wistfully as sherapidly ascended the slope, but in a moment she was out of sight overits crest. I wondered who she could be. This mountain fastness was aplace of strange surprises. I pondered long but could find no light, soI settled myself to sleep again; but ere I slept there flitted throughmy waking dreams the vision of a winsome maid with hair a glory ofsun-kissed brown.
On waking, my first thought was of her, and anxiously and half-hopefullyI peeped into the gathering darkness to see if she had come back again;but there was nothing to see except the beds of heather, purple in thegathering twilight, and the grey shadows of the granite rocks scatteredalong the hill-side.
I judged that the time had come when I might with safety issue from myhiding-place, so I ventured forth. Sitting down upon the hill-side Ihelped myself to some of my rapidly diminishing food. As I did so, Ithought with gratitude of the hermit on the other side of the loch, who,of his large charity, had made me free of his ample stores.
And then the truth flashed upon me--the little bird which brought hisfood was no repulsive, croaking raven, but a gracefulheather-lintie--the girl whom I had seen that afternoon.
When I had finished eating, I went down to the edge of the loch and,stooping, drank. Then I returned to my seat and waited. The stars werecoming out one by one, and the horn of the moon was just appearing likethe point of a silver sickle above a bank of clouds when I heard themusic of the flute. It pulsated with a haunting beauty, like some elfinmelody which the semi-darkness and the intervening water conspired torender strangely sweet. Evidently the player was in a happy mood, forhis notes were instinct with joy, and, though they lacked that mysticsadness which had so thrilled me a night ago, they cast a glamour overme. When the music ceased I tarried for a space, for I had no desire tobreak in upon the devotions of my friend; but by and by I made my wayround to the other side of the loch.
I found the hermit awaiting me. He bade me "Good e'en" and asked if Ihad had anything to eat. I told him that I had already satisfied myhunger.
"That is a pity," he said, "for the ravens have been kind to-day andhave brought me a little Galloway cheese forby twa or three girdles-fu'o' guid, crisp oatcake; by the morn they'll no' be so tasty, so just trya corner and a wee bit o' cheese along with me."
Little loth, I assented, and soon I was enjoying some of his toothsomestore. I ate sparingly, for I had already blunted the edge of my hungerand I had no wish to abuse his generosity. As I nibbled the crispoatcake I thought of the girl I had seen on the hill-side, and in a fitof curiosity said: "I have been thinking that though the Lord sent theravens to feed Elijah, he has been sending somebody bonnier and blitherto feed you--in fact no raven, but a heather-lintie!"
He looked at me quickly, and replied: "I am no' sayin' yea or nay; andat any rate you have no call to exercise your mind with what doesnaconcern you."
The rebuke was a just one and I was sorry for my offence.
When our meal was over, he took me by the arm. "What say you to a walkby the light o' the moon?" he asked. "I'll guarantee you will fall intono more bogs, for I know every foot of these hills as well as I know thepalm of my hand."
"Your pleasure is mine," I said. So we set out, and as we went hetalked.
"Last night," he said, "you told me your story; to-night, if you care tolisten, I will tell you mine.
"I am an older man by far than you are, and I will never see thethree-score and ten again. As my days so has my strength been. I haveseen a feck of things and taken part in many a deed that will help tomake history. You may think I boast myself, but listen. My name isAlexander Main, and, as you ken, I am a minister of the Kirk ofScotland. The year 1638 saw me a student in the Glasgow College--thatis long syne, and they were stirring times. Ye may have heard of thatgreat gathering in the Greyfriars Kirk at Edinburgh on the last day ofFebruary 1638, when we swore and put our names to the National Covenant.It was a great day. The crowd filled kirk and yard. Well do I mind thegallant Warriston reading the Covenant, much of which had come glowingfrom his own pen--but most of all I mind the silence that fell upon uswhen the reading was over. Then the good Earl of Sutherland steppedforward and put his name to it, and man followed man, each eager topledge himself to the bond. Some of us, I mind well, wrote after theirnames the words 'Till death,' and others signed it with their blood."
"And what might this Covenant be?" I asked.
"Ah," he said, "I had forgotten. Briefly the bond was this: 'to adhereto and defend the true religion of Presbyterianism, and to labour torecover the purity and liberty of the Gospel as it was established andprofessed in the Kingdom of Scotland.' It was to put an end to allendeavours to foist prelacy upon us and to signify our adherence to thePresbyterian form of Church-government which King James himself hadsworn to uphold in this Kingdom of Scotland, that we put our names tothe bond. Not that we were against the King, for in the Covenant it waswritten plain that we were ready with our lives to stand to the defenceof our dread sovereign, the King's Majesty. The wave of fervour spreadlike a holy fire from that old kirkyard through the length and breadthof Scotland, and the noblest blood in the land and the flower of itsintellect signed the Covenant. Later on there came a day when those whostood for liberty of conscience in England as well as Scotland made acompact. That was the Solemn League and Covenant, whereby we boundourselves to preserve a reformed religion in the Church of Scotland.The memory of man is short, and it has almost been forgotten that thesolemn league was a joint Scottish and English affair, and that it wasratified by the English Parliament. These things were the beginning,but since then this puir kingdom has passed through the fire."
He paused and sighed deeply, then picking up the thread of his wordsagain he told me the chequered history of the Covenanters for close onfifty years. It was a story that thrilled me--a record of suffering, ofhigh endeavour, of grievous wrong. Of his own sufferings he madelittle, though he had suffered sore, and I, who had never felt the callto sacrifice myself for a principle, was humbled to the dust as Ilistened. He spoke in accents tense with emotion, and sometimes hisvoice rang with pride. I was too spell-bound to interrupt him, thoughmany questions were upon my lips.
At last he ceased, as though the memories he was recalling hadoverwhelmed him, then he resumed:
"So, in some sort, my story is the story of puir auld Scotland, for thepast fifty years. It is a tragedy, and the pity is--a needless tragedy!If the rulers of a land would study history and human nature, it wouldsave them from muckle wrong-doing and oppression. It has been triedbefore and, I doubt not, it will be tried many a time again, but it willnever succeed--for no tyrant can destroy the soul of a people by bruteforce. They call us rebels, and maybe so we are, but we were not rebelsin the beginning. Two kings signed the bond: the Parliament passed it.We remained true to our pledged word; the kings forgot theirs, and theycall us the law-breakers. And some call us narrow-minded fanatics.Some of us may be; for when the penalty of a man's faith is his death,he may come to lay as much stress on the commas in his creed as
on theprinciples it declares. No man has the right to compromise on thefundamentals.
"Sometimes I wonder if I had my life to live over again whether I woulddo as I have done. Maist likely I should, for all through I have let myconscience guide me. I have no regrets, but only a gnawing sorrow thatsometimes torments me. I have been in dangers many, and I have neverlowered my flag, either to a fear or to a denial of my faith, and yetthe Lord has not counted me worthy to win the martyr's crown." Hisvoice broke, and he hesitated for a moment, then went on: "I have foughta good fight; I have almost finished my course, but whether I have keptthe faith is no' for me to say. I have tried.
"The night of Scotland's woe has been long and stormy; but the dawn of abetter day is not far off, and she will yet take her place in theforefront of the nations as the land in which the battle for liberty ofconscience was fought and won.
"Look ye," and he pointed to the east, where the darkness was beginningto break as the sun swung up from his bed.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 9