Page 12 of A Fire in Their Hearts
N ONE OF US WANTS TO be recognised and the driving rain at least provides a reason to have hoods up or large hats pulled down tightly.
We’ve split into two groups amongst the crowd to more easily blend in.
Hamish and his father stand with Calum a short distance away while I’m with my own father and Violet, who refused to be left behind regardless of what anyone said.
We’re standing behind a man who’s as tall as me so that my own height is less likely to attract attention.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Violet,’ I say, angry that she’s not stayed behind, angry at the disaster of Rullion Green, angry at everything and everyone.
The real truth is that I’m scared. I’ve felt scared ever since returning to my family, on occasions almost overcome by fear.
Every time I close my eyes, that boy is in front of me saying please .
I haven’t admitted it, though I suspect they know.
You can’t hide such a thing from people who love you.
After all of the fears we had about our inexperience, it was actually our youth that saved Hamish and me from the fate of many Covenanters at Rullion Green .
.?. we simply outran those pursuing us. Several captured Covenanters have since been executed on the infamous scaffold in Edinburgh’s Grassmarket, including the brave Captain Arnot.
Those banished abroad are unlikely to see Scotland again.
A few with the money and means have fled the country, like Colonel Wallace, who has gone to Holland.
‘I’ll be back soon,’ says Father, interrupting my thoughts, before moving away slowly through the throng of bodies.
There are easily more than a thousand people around the scaffold that’s been built to execute eight of the Covenanters captured at Rullion Green.
Some of the men who sat in judgement during the court case are standing on the platform, along with a minister, the local magistrate and a couple of burly soldiers.
Amongst these men are two tall ladders that rest against a high wooden frame upon which a rope hangs, the sodden noose dancing ominously in the wind.
Twelve men were tried and twelve sentenced to be executed, with two Covenanters sent to Irvine and two to Dumfries to meet their fate in the towns they came from so that local people may see justice being done.
Three of the men to be hanged in Ayr come from the village of Dalry, where this all began with a handful of soldiers mistreating an old man.
I stare at the gallows. Justice, they call this.
‘What?’ Violet asks me.
‘Sorry, I was speaking what’s in my head.’
There is a pause while she casts a worried eye over me. ‘Don’t, Samuel. It’s a dangerous habit.’
She’s right – especially here and now. Armed soldiers and militia patrol around the crowd, studying people with watchful eyes.
Since the six of us arrived in Ayr this morning, we’ve heard rumours that there are people amongst the crowd who are pretending to be sympathetic to the Covenanter cause but are secretly working for the king.
We’re nervous and on our guard, as well as being wet, cold, weary and despairing.
‘Have you heard the news?’ says Hamish, coming up behind us.
I half turn my head, which I keep bowed to better hide my face. ‘What news?’
‘The Ayr hangman has disappeared.’
Violet frowns. ‘Disappeared?’
‘Left the area as soon as it was known that the trial would take place here. No one else in Ayr is willing to carry out the executions, so they’ve brought in the hangman from Irvine, but he’s also refused, even when threatened with torture or his own death.’
‘A brave believer,’ says Violet under her breath.
‘The local magistrate’s so angry that he’s got the poor man locked up in the tolbooth, but he’s unable to force him to do it.’
‘What will happen?’
It’s at this moment Father returns, his expression even more grim than when he left. ‘I hardly know what to make of what I’ve heard. The authorities have offered one of the condemned eight his life and freedom if he will hang the other seven.’
‘No!’ Violet gasps as we all stare at him.
‘Will someone do it?’ asks Hamish.
Father shakes his head. ‘Who knows what any man would do with a choice of life or death in such stark circumstances.’
‘Neither Hamish nor I would ever agree to such a heinous act,’ I say, as though stating it aloud will dispel the doubt in my heart.
Father’s eyes dart to me, so quickly I almost miss it, but my stomach churns. He can see right through the false bravery in my comment.
‘It’s one thing to stand alongside your friends and face the enemy in battle,’ he says solemnly, ‘where you have the comfort of a weapon in your hands and can fight with at least a chance of surviving. But in this, a man’s courage might fail him .?.?. though the sin would be terrible.’
‘But which one might accept?’ wonders Hamish.
I’ve trained, eaten, laughed and fought with these men; all good, honest and true to the Covenanter cause. How could any of them kill the other seven? Father is wrong; no one will agree to do this wicked deed. They cannot.
‘Samuel.’ Violet says my name quietly, but there’s a warning in her voice that I’ve learnt to heed over the years.
‘I was at Rullion Green,’ a man whispers to me.
I turn to the stranger but hesitate to reply. What if I give myself away?
‘You’ve no business with us,’ Violet tells him. ‘Be on your way.’
The man blinks rapidly, as if struck, then sneers. ‘Does this .?.?. woman .?.?. answer for you?’ he asks me.
I’m certain that Violet’s suspicion is correct: this man is a spy.
Suddenly all that anger brewing within me boils over.
I grab his jacket with both hands and yank him forward so violently that he’s forced onto his toes, looking up at me from only inches away.
He splutters, holding up his hands in a sign of peace.
‘Hey, hey, friend! No need for that.’
‘I’m no friend of yours and if you don’t move away, you’ll feel my fist in your face.’
‘All right .?.?. just a misunderstanding. No need to threaten me.’
I push him away, though not too roughly as I don’t want to draw attention to myself. He vanishes into the crowd.
‘Something’s happening,’ says Violet.
I look towards the scaffold, where soldiers are escorting the condemned men.
The crowd goes silent. I begin to fear that one of the eight may have given in to temptation, for why else would they be brought out?
Like those around me, I count the figures and tick off their names in my head.
There are seven with their hands tied in front of them. The last one doesn’t.
‘Cornelius!’ whispers Hamish. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it. He fought bravely at Rullion Green.’
‘Everyone fought bravely at Rullion Green,’ I say quietly. ‘We lost because we were hugely outnumbered.’
‘I think,’ says Father wearily, ‘that this man will regret to his dying day what he is about to do.’
One of the judges on the platform steps forward to address the crowd.
‘These men have been found guilty of treason and are condemned to be executed for their heinous crime against the king, who was anointed by God to be our monarch and as such is head of the Church of Scotland. Let no one here doubt the authority of King Charles II. Carry on, sergeant.’
George is the first to be brought up, followed several yards behind by Cornelius, who appears so drunk he can hardly stand.
‘This is going to be more desperate than ever,’ says Father. ‘Burghs have hangmen because they know their trade. This man can barely keep himself upright.’
‘I can’t watch,’ says Violet, who buries her head in my chest.
I wrap my cloak around her body so that she’s almost hidden from sight. ‘It’s all right.’ I try to reassure her. ‘Stay there and I’ll keep you safe.’
Heaven knows I don’t want to watch either, but I have to be present even though I feel crushed by guilt that we left them behind at Rullion Green. I can’t ignore the fear that one of them will recognise me and shout out how I betrayed their friendship.
When George reaches the platform he says something to the sergeant, who releases his grip without hesitation.
As is the custom, a condemned man is entitled to speak before his execution.
Some confess their guilt and ask for forgiveness from their victims. Others protest their innocence and curse their accusers.
Those who have accepted their fate usually say nothing.
A few have to be restrained and their executions are particularly violent.
George stands serenely as if he hasn’t a care in the world.
‘Fellow Scotsmen .?.?. we Covenanters are, and have always been, loyal to our monarch. We’ve never had treason in our hearts.
We only ever wanted the head of our Kirk to be Jesus as the Scriptures tell us he should be.
Too many have died and more will be killed in this unnecessary fight.
It will go on until we are heard. I won’t see it, at least not from this earthly body of mine. ’
George pauses because his eyes have fallen upon me, despite my attempts to be unrecognised.
I’m unable even to blink. We stare at each other across a distance that cannot be measured in anything manmade.
His head moves slightly. It could have been a nod.
I don’t know. He looks once more upon the crowd.
‘I hope some of you here will still be alive on that day. Now, I leave to go to a better place and I have such joy within me that I shall soon meet God. I have no fear.’ He turns to face Cornelius, who staggers backwards as if struck, until the railing prevents him going any further.
‘I forgive you for the deed you are about to do .?.?. Cornelius Anderson.’
George pronounces his name like a sentence, and it is – for this name will become infamous throughout the whole of Scotland. He then walks calmly to the ladder for the condemned and climbs slowly up to the fifth step, stopping when his head is in line with the noose.
Cornelius appears frozen in horror and it’s only with prompting from the magistrate that he clumsily climbs the other ladder, this one fixed firmly at the top to the frame.
When he reaches the same level as George, the two men look at each other from only feet away.
The silence from the crowd is thick, like the smoke from thousands of muskets at Rullion Green.
If any words are spoken between the two, no one hears them.
Eventually, one of the judges loses his temper.
‘Christ on the cross, get on with it!’
Cornelius reaches over and places the noose around his former friend’s neck, then he returns to the platform and staggers to the foot of the ladder upon which George stands.
Grasping a rung near the bottom, he heaves, losing his balance in the process and ending up sprawled at the magistrate’s feet.
People rarely die quickly. Instead, their death is a hideous display of twisting and jerking as the person desperately tries to suck air into their lungs. It’s instinct, even for the bravest and staunchest of men.
I can’t breathe. It’s as though that rope is around my own neck, the tough hemp fibres crushing my windpipe like the garrotting of a witch. I desperately try to take a breath, but I can’t do it. I can’t. The world around me spins. I’m falling .?.?. falling into a void of despair and blackness.
‘Samuel .?.?. Samuel.’ Violet’s voice is low but urgent. ‘Loosen your arms. You’re hurting me. Samuel!’
Violet is still mostly hidden by my cloak and it’s the fear in her voice that brings me back. I take huge gulps of air and it’s only then that I realise I’ve been squeezing her fiercely.
‘I’m all right .?.?. I’m all right,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.’
And so the bodies pile up .?.?. George MacCartney, John Graham, Alexander MacMillan, James MacMillan, John Short, James Smith, John Muirhead.
With every death the sympathy towards the Covenanter cause increases amongst the people present, while my hate for a man I’ve never met grows beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
He may wear a crown but he’s no king of mine if he can cause such grief amongst loyal subjects because they won’t accept he has the right to put himself between them and God.
There is no middle ground to stand upon.
I will fight against what this man represents until we win or until I’m dead.
News of these barbarous events will result in even greater numbers joining the fight.
What is happening in Ayr today will stain Scotland’s soul for generations to come.
And if the king and his government think that this cruelty will force his subjects into submission, they don’t understand the power of the desire for freedom.