had, in the King's name, assembled a host at Glasgow, inferior indeed to that of the Queen in numbers, but formidable from the military talents of Murray, Morton, the Laird of Grange, and others, who had been trained from their youth in foreign and domestic wars.
In these circumstances, it was the obvious policy of Queen Mary to avoid a conflict, secure that were her person once in safety, the number of her adherents must daily increase; whereas, the forces of those opposed to her must, as had frequently happened in the previous history of her reign, have diminished, and their spirits become broken. And so evident was this to her counsellors, that they resolved their first step should be to place the Queen in the strong castle of Dunbarton, there to await the course of events, the arrival of succours from France, and the levies which were made by her adherents in every province of Scotland. Accordingly, orders were given, that all men should be on horseback or on foot, apparelled in their armour, and ready to follow the Queen's standard in array of battle, the avowed determination being to escort her to the Castle of Dunbarton in defiance of her enemies.
The muster was made upon Hamilton-Moor, and the march commenced in all the pomp of feudal times. Military music sounded, banners and pennons waved, armour glittered far and wide, and spears glanced and twinkled like stars in a frosty sky. The gallant spectacle of warlike parade was on this occasion dignified by the presence of the Queen herself, who, with a fair retinue of ladies and household attendants, and a special guard of gentlemen, amongst whom young Seyton and Roland were distinguished, gave grace at once and confidence to the army, which spread its ample files before, around, and behind her. Many churchmen also joined the cavalcade, most of whom did not scruple to assume arms, and declare their intention of wielding them in defence of Mary and the Catholic faith. Not so the Abbot of Saint Mary's. Roland had not seen this prelate since the night of their escape from Lochleven, and he now beheld him, robed in the dress of his order, assume his station near the Queen's person. Roland hastened to pull off his basnet, and beseech the Abbot's blessing.
'Thou hast it, my son!' said the priest; 'I see thee now under thy true name, and in thy rightful garb. The helmet with the holly branch befits your brows well?I have long waited for the hour thou shouldst assume it.'
'Then you knew of my descent, my good father?' said Roland.
'I did so, but it was under seal of confession from thy grandmother; nor was I at liberty to tell the secret, till she herself should make it known.'
'Her reason for such secrecy, my father?' said Roland Avenel.
'Fear, perchance of my brother?a mistaken fear, for Halbert would not, to ensure himself a kingdom, have offered wrong to an orphan; besides that, your title, in quiet times, even had your father done your mother that justice which I well hope he did, could not have competed with that of my brother's wife, the child of Julian's elder brother.'
'They need fear no competition from me,' said Avenel. 'Scotland is wide enough, and there are many manors to win, without plundering my benefactor. But prove to me, my reverend father, that my father was just to my mother?show me that I may call myself a legitimate Avenel, and make me your bounden slave for ever.'
'Ay,' replied the Abbot, 'I hear the Seytons hold thee cheap for that stain on thy shield. Something, however, I have learnt from the late Abbot Boniface, which, if it prove sooth, may redeem that reproach.'
'Tell me that blessed news,' said Roland, 'and the future service of my life?'
'Rash boy!' said the Abbot, 'I should but madden thine impatient temper, by exciting hopes that may never be fulfilled?and is this a time for them? Think on what perilous march we are bound, and if thou hast a sin unconfessed, neglect not the only leisure which Heaven may perchance afford thee for confession and absolution.'
'There will be time enough for both, I trust, when we reach Dunbarton,' answered the page.
'Ay,' said the Abbot, 'thou crowest as loudly as the rest?but we are not yet at Dunbarton, and there is a lion in the path.'
'Mean you Murray, Morton, and the other rebels at Glasgow, my reverend father? Tush! they dare not look on the royal banner.'
'Even so,' replied the Abbot, 'speak many of those who are older, and should be wiser, than thou.?I have returned from the southern shires, where I left many a chief of name arming in the Queen's interest?I left the lords here wise and considerate men?I find them madmen on my return?they are willing, for mere pride and vain-glory, to brave the enemy, and to carry the Queen, as it were in triumph, past the walls of Glasgow, and under the beards of the adverse army.?Seldom does Heaven smile on such mistimed confidence. We shall be encountered, and that to the purpose.'
'And so much the better,' replied Roland; 'the field of battle was my cradle.'
'Beware it be not thy dying bed,' said the Abbot. 'But what avails it whispering to young wolves the dangers of the chase? You will know, perchance, ere this day is out, what yonder men are, whom you hold in rash contempt.'
'Why, what are they?' said Henry Seyton, who now joined them: 'have they sinews of wire, and flesh of iron??Will lead pierce and steel cut them??If so, reverend father, we have little to fear.'
'They are evil men,' said the Abbot, 'but the trade of war demands no saints.?Murray and Morton are known to be the best generals in Scotland. No one ever saw Lindesay's or Ruthven's back?Kirkaldy of Grange was named by the Constable Montmorency the first soldier in Europe?My brother, too good a name for such a cause, has been far and wide known for a soldier.'
'The better, the better!' said Seyton, triumphantly; 'we shall have all these traitors of rank and name in a fair field before us. Our cause is the best, our numbers are the strongest, our hearts and limbs match theirs?Saint Bennet, and set on!'
The Abbot made no reply, but seemed lost in reflection; and his anxiety in some measure communicated itself to Roland Avenel, who ever, as their line of march led over a ridge or an eminence, cast an anxious look towards the towers of Glasgow, as if he expected to see symptoms of the enemy issuing forth. It was not that he feared the fight, but the issue was of such deep import to his country, and to himself, that the natural fire of his spirit burned with a less lively, though with a more intense glow. Love, honour, fame, fortune, all seemed to depend on the issue of one field, rashly hazarded perhaps, but now likely to become unavoidable and decisive.
When, at length, their march came to be nearly parallel with the city of Glasgow, Roland became sensible that the high grounds before them were already in part occupied by a force, showing, like their own, the royal banner of Scotland, and on the point of being supported by columns of infantry and squadrons of horse, which the city gates had poured forth, and which hastily advanced to sustain those troops who already possessed the ground
