THE ROMANCE OF WAR, VOLUME 3

THE ROMANCE OF WAR:

OR,

THE HIGHLANDERS IN SPAIN

BY

JAMES GRANT, ESQ.

Late 62nd Regiment.

"In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome, From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come; Our loud-sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain, And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain." Lt.-Gen. Erskine.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1846.

LONDON: PRINTED BY MAURICE AND CO., HOWFORD BUILDINGS, FENCHURCH STREET.

CONTENTS

Chapter

Hostilities—A Love Letter

The Ball.—The Bull-Fight.—An Adventure

The Skirmish of Fuente Duenna. The Leaguer of Alba de Tormes

Angus Mackie

An Adventure. A Highland Legend

A Battle

An Out-Picquet Adventure

Pass of Maya.—Pyrenees

The Block-house. Mina

The Châtelet

Passage of the Nive

THE ROMANCE OF WAR.

CHAPTER I.

HOSTILITIES—A LOVE LETTER.

"Were not my right hand fetter'd by the thought, That slaying thee were but a double guilt In which to steep my soul, no bridegroom ever Stepp'd forth to trip a measure with his bride More joyfully than I, young man, would rush To meet thy challenge." Macduff's Cross, p. 26.

Boiling with rage at Louis's insulting defiance, Ronald returned to his quarters in the Alcanzar, determined at day-break to summon him forth, to fight or apologize. He often repeated the words, "Her heart has never wandered from you." Ah! if this should indeed be the case, and that Alice loved him after all! But from Louis, his honour demanded a full explanation and ample apology, either of which he feared the proud spirit of the other would never stoop to grant. Yet, to level a deadly weapon against the brother of Alice,—against him to whom he had been a constant friend and companion in childhood and maturer youth, and perhaps by a single shot to destroy him, the hopes and the peace of his amiable father and sister, he felt that should this happen, he never could forgive himself. But there was no alternative: it was death or dishonour.

Two ways lay before him,—to fight or not to fight; and his sense of injured honour made him, without hesitation, choose the first, and he waited in no ordinary anxiety for the dawn, when Alister Macdonald, who was absent on duty, would return to the quarters of the regiment.

Next morning, when the grey daylight was beginning faintly to show the dark courts and gloomy arcades of the Alcanzar, he sprung from his couch, which had been nothing else than his cloak laid on the polished floor tiles; and undergoing a hasty toilette, he was about to set forth in search of Macdonald, when Lieutenant Chisholm, one of the officers, entered.

"What! up already, Stuart?" said he; "I hope you are not on any duty?"

"No. Why?"

"Because Lisle has asked me to wait upon you."

"Upon me?" asked Ronald, with a frown of surprise. "Upon me, Chisholm?"

"Yes: of course you will remember what occurred in the cathedral last night?"

"How could I ever forget? Mr. Lisle, under its roof, insulted me most grossly," replied Ronald, his lips growing white with anger. "I was just about to seek Macdonald to give him a message, but Mr. Lisle has anticipated me."

"For Heaven's sake, Stuart, let us endeavour to settle this matter amicably! Think of the remorse which an honourable survivor must always feel. A hundred men slain in action are nothing to one life lost in a duel."

"Address these words to your principal,—they are lost on me; but you are an excellent fellow, Chisholm!"

"It is long since we have had an affair of this sort among us, and Cameron is quite averse to this mode of settling disputes."

"I shall not consult his opinion, or that of any other man, in defence of my own honour," said Ronald haughtily.

"As you please," replied the other, with an air of pique. "Lisle and you have long been on very distant terms, and the officers have always predicted that the matter would terminate in this way."

"Curse their impertinent curiosity! And so Lisle calls me out in consequence of the high words we exchanged in the cathedral last night?"

"That is one reason—the least one, I believe. He mentioned that his sister, Miss Lisle—"

"Stay, Chisholm! I will hear no more of this," cried Stuart; then suddenly changing his mind added, "Ah! well; his sister—Miss Alice Lisle. Go on."

"Faith, Stuart, you seem confoundedly confused. Do settle this matter in peace. Lisle has told me the story, in confidence, and I think you have been to blame,—indeed you have. Send Lisle an apology, for I assure you he is boiling with passion, and will not yield a hair's breadth."

"Chisholm, then how in the devil's name can you suppose that I will?" exclaimed Ronald, his anger getting the better of his confusion. "Never, by Heaven! never will I apologize when I have suffered the indignity. He has challenged me, and fate must now decide. I will meet him."

"Well, then, time presses; we march at sunrise. Who is your friend?"

"Alister Macdonald, if he has returned; if not, I shall have Logan."

"Macdonald returned about midnight with some stragglers from Torrijos, and will not relish being disturbed so early."

"Never mind that; an hour's sleep less or more is scarcely to be considered when lives are in jeopardy. Where is the meeting place?"

"The bridge of Toledo. You will barely be in time. Six is the hour; it wants fifteen minutes of it by my watch."

"Well, you may leave me now."

Knowing it was needless to say any more about a reconciliation Chisholm departed; and Ronald, after buckling on his sword and dirk, stood for a few minutes holding his bonnet in his hand irresolutely, while he sunk into a reverie of deep and bitter reflections, of what his affectionate old sire and faithful dependants at Lochisla would feel should he die by the hand of Lisle, whose very name they regarded with so much jealousy and distrust. He also thought of Alice and Lord Lisle, what their sentiments would be if the reverse was the case, and the one lost a dear brother—the other a beloved son, who was the only heir and hope of an ancient house, and the successor to its title. He remembered also the words of Louis. Could it be that Alice might yet love him? But no; that was impossible! He threw his cloak around him, and rushed from the chamber to seek that of Macdonald, who was ready to attend him in a moment. Suddenly remembering that he had no pistols, he urned into an apartment occupied by Major Campbell, to request the loan of his.

It was a spacious and splendid room, with a ceiling twenty feet in height. A colonnade supported the roof, the carved beams of which stretched across from the gilded cornices on each side. The ceiling and walls were covered with frescoes, but the plaster and the once bright and gorgeous gilding were miserably faded and dilapidated by time and neglect. Rolled in his cloak, and coiled up in a corner of this vast and empty hall, the bulky frame of Campbell lay on the tessellated pavement, and no doubt he found it a bed somewhat cold and hard. His pillow was formed by his long Andrea and favourite rung, with a plaid rolled round them. His dirk and steel Highland pistols lay on one side of him, and an empty pigskin on the other. Very desolate indeed he appeared, lying in a corner of that huge apartment, which was totally destitute of furniture. Ronald shook him by the shoulder.

"If that is you, Serjeant Macildhui," said he, speaking very crossly beneath the cape of his cloak, "I must beg leave to inform you, that I have nothing to do now with No. 1 company. I am done with all that sort of dirty work, as you will see by the last Gazette. Apply to Mr. Kennedy, and take yourself off till the drum beats. I wish the infernal Horse Guards would order six halting days every week, instead of only Sunday and Thursday."

"Look up, major! 'Tis I—Stuart."

"What is the matter?" cried the other, bolting up, and showing that the contents of the borachio skin were operating still on his brain; "what is the matter now? It is very hard that a field-officer, and one too that has seen the fields of Alexandria, Egmont-op-Zee, and the onslaught of Copenhagen, should be so pestered by subalterns. How this hard bed makes my bones ache! I have slept softer on the hot yellow sand in Egypt. They tell me this was the bed-room of Don Alfonso the First, king of Castile. Devil mend him! I suppose he did not sleep on the pavement with a claymore for a pillow, like Colin Campbell of Craigfianteoch, in Lorne, a better man—for what is any Castilian don when compared to a duine-wassal of Argyle?" The major snapped his fingers, and it was evident he was very tipsy. "But what do you want, Ronald, my boy?" he added.

"The loan of your pistols, major, for ten minutes only. I have a very disagreeable affair to adjust this morning."

"I regret to hear it; but it is with none of ours, I hope, my knight of Santiago?"

"This is no time for jesting. 'Tis with a Portuguese of Colonel Campbell's brigade," said Ronald, colouring at the necessary falsehood.

"Pah! only a Portuguese,—a dirty garlic-eating devil. There are the pistols; and remember, always level low, and fire the instant the word is given. I hope your arm is steady. A little hartshorn-water or Eau de Cologne are excellent things to rub it with. I am sorry I never keep any of these things about me: Egypt cured me of them. Take Stewart the assistant-surgeon with you, and come back when the tulzie is over, and give me an account of it."

"You forget, major. I may never come back."

"And your opponent a Portuguese! Who is your second?"

"Macdonald,—Macdonald of Inchkenneth. These pistols are very handsome," observed Ronald, with affected carelessness, as he examined the stones with which they were studded, and surveyed the flints and locks.

"Ah! they are indeed handsome. My grandfather took them out of the Duke of Douglas's belt, after he had unhorsed him at Shirramuir. They did some execution at Culloden, too."

"On the right side, of course?"

"Yes; in the army of the Prince. Use this one, with the cairn-gorum on the butt. The other throws high, and you would need to level to the boot to hit the belt. It happened so with me at Grand Cairo, when firing at a Turkish thief. I aimed at his sash, and the ball knocked off his turban. I would tell you all the story, but there is no time. I have no fear of you; so be off, my lad. God bless you! and steady your hand. Do not let it be said that a Portuguese gained and kept the ground before a Scotsman, and one of the Gordon Highlanders."

At the gate of the Alcanzar he met Macdonald, and wrapping themselves up in their cloaks, as the morning air was cold and chilly, they hurried towards the bridge of Toledo. The streets appeared gloomy and dull in the grey light of the morning; and save their own foot-falls, no other sound broke the silence. The most public places were absolutely deserted. The shops under the piazzas of the Plaza, the stalls in the market-place, the cafés and tabernas were still all closed. Two or three halberdiers stood at the gate of El Medico's residence, and these were all they met, save a cloaked cavalier, who by a ladder of ropes suddenly descended from the window into the street, and disappeared.

On reaching the bridge which spans the Tagus, immediately beneath the cannon and battlements of the city, they found Lisle and Chisholm awaiting them. A pistol-case lay on the parapet over which they were leaning, watching the smooth waters of the river as they hurried on between rocky ledges, banks overhung with foliage, and willow trees that flourished amidst the stream. A thick white mist was beginning to curl up from the bed of the river, exhaled by the increasing heat of the morning sun, whose rays were tinging the east with red, and the cross on the beautiful spire of the cathedral, from one of the towers of which waved a broad and crimson banner, bearing the arms of Toledo—the imperial crown of Spain.

"A very disagreeable business this, Macdonald," whispered Chisholm, as he took the arm of the other, and led him aside to the parapet of the bridge, where they communed for a few seconds, leaving the principals, awkwardly enough, to stare at each other or admire the scenery, which ever they chose.

Another attempt at an amicable arrangement was made, but without success; both parties were too much exasperated to yield in the least degree. "Once more I ask you, Stuart," said Chisholm, coming forward, "cannot this unhappy affair be adjusted without recourse to arms?"

"You are a good-hearted fellow, Chisholm, and I fully appreciate your good intentions, but your words are lost upon me; I refer you to Mr. Lisle for an answer. Mine was the insult, and any apology should therefore come from him."

"It shall not!" exclaimed Lisle bitterly; "I will rather die than apologize. Stuart, you shall fight me; and if not—"

"Lisle,—Lisle! your behaviour is very violent and most unjustifiable."

"I am the best judge, Mr. Macdonald. I fight in the cause of another, and not for myself," said Louis; and he turned haughtily on his heel, and again walked to the parapet.

"I am perfectly disposed to accept of an apology," observed Ronald to the seconds in a subdued voice; "but as one will not be given, on Lisle's own head will rest the guilt of the blood shed this morning. This quarrel has been of his own seeking, not mine. Heaven knows how loath I am to fight with him, but there is no alternative now. Measure the ground, and give us our weapons."

"Then, Macdonald," said Chisholm, "all hopes of an accommodation are at an end?"

"Quite: your principal is much to blame. But we must be expeditious,—see how red the horizon is; the drums will beat in ten minutes."

During the measuring of the ground and the loading of the pistols, Ronald fixed his eyes on the saffron east, where the sun was about to rise in all its splendour above the mountains of Castile. Appearing black between him and the glowing sky rose the grassy height, crowned by the black old ruins of the castle of San Servan, that fortress so famous in romance, where "Ruy, the Cid Campeador," was wont to spend the night in prayer and vigil. The sky was seen through its embrasured towers and empty windows, brightening in a blaze of glory all around, and giving promise of another day. Ronald gazed eastward wistfully. In ten minutes more the sun would be up, but by that time the eyes of either Lisle or himself might be sealed for ever. Ronald pictured what would be the emotions of Alice if her brother was slain, because she loved him well. He thought of his father, too; and remembered painfully that he would almost exult, if young Lisle was slain in this contest.

His reverie was interrupted by Alister.

"All is ready,—Lisle has taken his ground," said he, putting into Ronald's hand the cold steel butt of the Highland pistol. "For Heaven's sake, or rather for your own, appear a little more collected. Lisle seems determined to shoot you, in revenge for your neglect of his sister."

"You have mentioned the only thing which can unnerve and unman me. Chisholm has told you, I suppose?"

"Yes. An explanation might yet clear up this business."

"I scorn to ask it now!"

"Are you ready?" cried Chisholm, who had posted Lisle fourteen paces off.

"All ready."

"Stand aside, Macdonald. I believe that I must give the word."

"As you please." Alister retired, but, like Chisholm's, his heart was filled with a painful feeling of suspense and dread.

The fatal word was given, and the report of both pistols instantaneously followed. Ronald fired into the air, but reeled backwards a few paces, and sunk on the road-way. Louis's stern look immediately relaxed, and he rushed towards him, tossing wildly away the other pistol.

"Heaven be merciful and look down on me, I have killed him! O Stuart, Ronald Stuart! speak to me," and he knelt over him with all the remorse that a brave and generous heart is capable of feeling, after the gust of passion has passed away.

"The ball has passed through his breast," whispered Macdonald in an agitated tone. "Unclasp the plaid, and open his coat. There is no blood; it must be flowing internally."

These observations, though made unintentionally, added greatly to the distress of Louis Lisle; but the unclasping of the shoulder-belt, the undoing of the sash, the plaid, and yellow riband of his gorget, aroused Ronald, who, to their great surprise, rose slowly to his feet.

"Why, what are you all about, unharnessing me thus? I am not wounded, but I have received a devil of a shock. By a perfect miracle I have been saved."

"One I shall ever bless!" said Lisle, pressing his hand.

"How is this?" exclaimed Chisholm in astonishment; "the ball has glanced off and torn your coat, as if you wore a corslet under it."

"By Jove! the miniature has saved him. He wears one: I used to quiz him about it at Merida," said Macdonald, as he pulled open the yellow lapel of the regimental coat, and displayed the little portrait hung around his neck by a chain. "You perceive that the silver case has turned the ball, which has become flattened against the parapet yonder. Such a very narrow escape!"

"The miniature! how comes this to pass?" asked Lisle. "Have you still preserved and worn it thus, notwithstanding your change of sentiments?"

"Listen to me, Lisle. I vow to you by Heaven and my honour, that my sentiments are yet unchanged: they are the same as in that hour when I first received this miniature from your own hand; and from that time until this I have continually worn it near my heart, preserving it carefully and preciously as any monk does here the piece of wood which he considers a part of the true cross. Never yet have I parted with this relic for a moment, although I own that I was on the point of destroying it when I first received intimation of the intended alliance between the Earl of Hyndford and your sister, Miss Lisle,—an alliance probably formed by this time."

"The Earl of Hyndford!" exclaimed Louis, in a tone of astonishment. "Has that accursed and silly report been the cause of our long alienation and quarrelling? Hyndford,—I had forgotten that affair altogether, or never supposed it could have reached you here in Spain. We have both been cruelly mistaken, but all will be happiness again. Give me your hand, Stuart, and we will be friends and brothers as of yore. Your heart is still unchanged, and I pledge you my honour that the affections of Alice are yours as much as ever. But this hostile meeting must be concealed from her, otherwise we should never be forgiven. Our seconds will never speak of the matter; their honour is a sufficient warrant for their secrecy."

Further conversation, and the congratulations of Chisholm and Macdonald, were cut short by the drums beating, and they were all compelled to hurry off. Lisle took the arm of Ronald, and they went towards the muster-place by a different route from that pursued by their seconds, so that they might freely converse and give scope to their thoughts. A most agreeable revulsion of feeling had taken place in their minds.

"O Ronald Stuart! I have been much to blame in this business," said Lisle, "much to blame indeed. And can you forgive me?"

"Freely, Louis," replied the other, pressing his hand. "I admire the spirit with which you have perilled life and limb for the cause of Alice. And so the dear girl is yet true?"