Chapter V Auld Maitland
“‘Wha holds this house?’ young Edward cried,
‘Or wha gives it o’er to me?’
‘’Tis I will keep my good old house,
While my house will keep me!’”
The story of Auld Maitland is said to be taken from a very old ballad, and known chiefly to the people who lived in the neighbourhood of Ettrick Forest. The old folks there would while away the long winter evenings by singing of the deeds of their ancestors, and the ballad of Auld Maitland, as thus chanted, was written down by the mother of James Hogg, the “Ettrick Shepherd.”
The castle of Thirlestane stood on the river Leader, and still, in its restored form, deserves its name of “the darksome house.” It may have often withstood the English during the Baliol wars, and hatred of the English and of Edward I. is expressed with extreme virulence throughout the poem. Here is the story:—
There lived in the south country a king named Edward, who wore the crown unworthily for fifty years. This king had a nephew, strong in blood and bone, who bore the same hateful name. One day the young man came before the king, and kneeling low, he said, “A boon, a boon I crave of thee, my good uncle. Oft have I wished to take part in our long wars in fair Scotland. Grant me fifteen hundred chosen strong men to ride there with me.”
“Certainly thou shalt have them, and more, and I myself, though old and grey, will see thy host arrayed for battle.”
King Edward sent hither and thither, and assembled fifteen hundred men on Tyne side, and three times as many at North Berwick, all bound for battle. They marched up the banks of Tweed, burning the Merse and Teviotdale, and up and down the Lammermoor Hills, until they came to the darksome house called, by some, “Leader-Town.”
“Who holds this house?” cried young Edward, “or who gives it over to me?” He was answered, as proudly, by a grey-haired knight: “I hold my house of Scotland’s king, who pays me in meat and fee, and I will hold it as long as it will stand together.”
Thereupon the English brought up their sows2 to the wall with many a heavy sound, but the soldiers on the wall cast down blazing pitch and tar barrels, to consume the formidable machine. They also threw down stones and beams and darts from their springalds,3 and slew many of the English.
Fifteen days they besieged the castle of Auld Maitland, but left him at the end of that time unhurt within his stone stronghold.
They loaded fifteen ships with as much spoil as they could carry away from the district around, and claimed that now they had conquered Scotland with buckler, bow, and brand. So they sailed away to France to meet the old King Edward, who was burning every castle, tower, and town that he met with. They came at last to the town of Billop-Grace, where Auld Maitland’s three sons were at school.
Edward had quartered the arms of Scotland with his own. “See’st thou what I see?” said the eldest son to the youngest; “if that be true that yonder standard says, then are we all three fatherless, and Scotland conquered up and down. Never will we bow to the conquerer. Let us go, my two brothers, and try our chance in an adventure?” Thereupon they saddled two black horses and a grey, and rode before day-dawn to King Edward’s army. Arrived there, they hovered round, and Maitland begged to be allowed to carry the king’s standard, the Golden Dragon.
“Where wast thou born and bred, and in what country?” demanded the knight who bore the banner. “I was born in the north of England,” answered Maitland; “my father was a knight and my mother a lady, and I myself am a squire of high renown, and may well carry the banner of a king.” “Never had the son of an Englishmen such an eye or brow,” answered the knight; “thou art more like Auld Maitland than any man I have ever seen; yet God grant that such a gloomy brow I never see again; he slew and wounded many of our men.”
At the mention of his father’s name Maitland’s anger burst out, and lifting up a gilded dagger that hung low by his knee, he struck fiercely at the standard-bearer, and, catching hold of the corner of the standard, rode swiftly away with it, crying to his brothers, “Is it not time to flee?” “Ay, by my sooth,” they both shouted, “we will bear you company.” So they rode off at hot speed, the pursuers following. The youngest Maitland, turning round in the path, drew his brand and killed fifteen of the foremost, and the rest fell back. Then he dug his spurs into the sides of his faithful grey, until both the sides ran blood. “Thou must carry me away, or my life lies in pledge,” he cried.
About daybreak the brothers arrived at their uncle’s castle, who, seeing the three Scottish lads with pursuers riding hard at their heels, ordered the portcullis to be drawn up and the drawbridge let down, for that they should lodge with him that night in spite of all England.
When the three came inside the gate, they leapt down from their horses, and taking three long spears in their hands, they fought till it was full daylight, killing and wounding many of the Englishmen round the drawbridge. Some of the dead were carted away in waggons, and stones were heaped upon the rest as they lay in the gutter.
King Edward proclaimed at his pavilion door that three lads of France, disguised, and with false words, had come and stolen away the standard, and had slain his men in their lawful attempt to regain it.
“It ill befits a crowned king to lie,” said the youngest Maitland, “and he shall be reproved for it before I taste meat or drink.”
Straightway he went before King Edward, and, kneeling low, begged leave to speak a word with him. “Man, thou shalt have leave to speak, even though thou shouldst speak all day,” answered the king.
“Ye said,” spoke the youngest Maitland, “that three young lads of France had stolen away the standard with a false tale, and slain many men. But we are not lads of France, and never have pretended to be; we are three lads of fair Scotland, and the sons of Auld Maitland, nor are there men in all your host dare fight us three to three.”
“Now, by my sooth,” said the young Edward, who stood by, “Ye shall be well fitted, for Percy shall fight with the eldest, and Egbert Lunn with thee, and William of Lancaster with the other, and the surviving brother shall fight with me. Remember, Percy, how oft the Scot has cowered before thee; I will give thee a rig of land for every drop of Maitland blood.”
So they set to, and the eldest Maitland clanked Percy over the head and wounded him so deeply that the best blood of his body ran down his hair. “I have slain one,” shouted Maitland to his brothers; “slay ye the other two, and that will be good company, and if the two shall slay ye both, ye shall get no help from me.”4
But Egbert Lunn was like a baited bear and had seen many battles, and when Maitland saw that his youngest brother was having the worst of it, he could not restrain himself longer, and shouting, “I am no king; my word shall not stand,” he struck Egbert over the head and slew him. “Now I have slain two; slay ye one for good company,” he cried; “neither shall ye get any help from me even if the one shall slay ye both.” So the two brothers slew the third, and hung him over the drawbridge for all the host to see.
Then they rode and ran, but still got not away, but hovered round, boasting: “We be three lads of fair Scotland that fain would see some fighting.”
When young Edward heard this, he cried wrathfully, “I’ll take yon lad and bind him, and bring him bound to thee.”
“Now God forbid that ever thou shouldst try that,” said the king; “we have lost three worthy leaders; wouldst thou be the fourth? Never again would I be happy if thou wert to hang on yonder drawbridge.”
But Edward struck fiercely at Maitland, cleaving his stout helmet and biting right near his brain. When Maitland saw his own blood flowing he threw away his weapon, and springing angrily at young Edward’s throat, he swung him thrice about and flung him on the ground, holding him there though he was of great strength.
“Now let him up,” cried King Edward, “let him come to me, and for thy deed thou shalt have three earldoms.”
“Nay,” replied Maitland, “never shall it be said in France or in Scotland that Edward once lay under me and got up again,” and with that he pierced him through the heart and hung him over the drawbridge with the other three.
“Now take from me my bed of feathers,” said the king, “make me a bed of straw. Would that I had not lived to see the day that makes my heart so sad.”
Notes
2 A military engine framed of wood, covered with hides and mounted on wheels, so that, being rolled forward to the foot of the wall, it served as a shed to defend the miners underneath it and their battering-rams from the stones and arrows of the soldiers above.
3 Large crossbows worked by machinery.
4 According to the laws of chivalry, having slain his own man, he could, if he pleased, come to the assistance of the others.