Page 17 of A Fire in Their Hearts

W E STAND IN SILENCE – Samuel’s parents and my own, plus Hamish and Calum – amongst thousands of Covenanters who have gathered for a conventicle in a valley a couple of miles from a village called Darvel.

Many people have travelled long distances to hear the famous Reverend Thomas Douglas preach and every single one of us is committing an act of treason by simply standing here together in the countryside.

The risk of attack by Royalist soldiers is so great that there are many armed men amongst us, led by Sir Robert Hamilton of Preston, who seems to have taken on the role because of his position in society rather than any military experience.

Samuel and I were lucky after leaving the Reverend Graham and Agnes, and lived undiscovered in the large town of Perth until word reached us about today. We had to come, not least because we heard via the huge network of supporters throughout the country that our families would be here.

The Reverend Douglas is positioned part way up Harelaw Hill so that people can see and hear him more clearly. He’s been speaking for over half an hour and is expected to continue for a long while yet.

‘We’ve been forced out of our kirks, out of our houses, out of our barns and fields .

.?. now we stand in this remote valley amongst God’s creations and we are stronger than ever before.

The king’s army may break our bones, yet they will never break our spirit.

They may crush our bodies but they will never crush our hope.

They may kill us, as so many have already been killed, but they will never kill our beliefs! ’

The sound of thousands of voices call out as one that we will not give up the fight. We’ve attended many conventicles over the years and often the preacher swaps between a religious sermon and a political speech so seamlessly that they merge into one like the white and yoke of a beaten egg.

A man nearby shouts out: ‘Christ and the Covenant! Christ and the Covenant!’

The chant spreads throughout the congregation like a river in flood and soon the valley echoes to the call. The Reverend Douglas nods his approval and makes no move to instil silence.

‘I feel washed clean once more by the spirit of God,’ says Samuel, exhaling a deep, contented breath.

He was troubled greatly after we left Reverend Graham, although would never explain why and I did not press him for an answer because I sensed it was an inner struggle that only Samuel could calm. Being here and seeing him filled with such joy, I know that his soul is once more at peace.

‘Why can’t we just be left alone?’ I say, although I know the answer as well as he does. ‘We could find a parish where you could preach as you’ve always been meant to do and we could build a home to live our lives without fear of violence.’

‘One day, Violet. When our work is done.’

A single shot rents the air, and the chanting stops in an instant. A musket has been fired by a watchman. On a nearby rise, a figure hurtles down towards the minister, shouting as he runs.

‘Dragoons, heading in force from the east about a mile away!’

The Reverend Douglas raises his arms. ‘You know the theory – now for the practice!’

Hamilton immediately takes control. ‘We mustn’t meet them here,’ he shouts. ‘Those men with arms, form lines, quickly now! Reverend Douglas, everyone else should head farther away. Go west until you hear news.’

‘I’ll see to it,’ shouts back the minister, already coming down amongst people to organise the movement of the women, elderly and children.

‘Violet, you must head west,’ says Samuel.

‘Don’t worry about me. Keep close to the others.’

He runs off to catch up with Calum, Hamish and our fathers.

There’s confusion and fear amongst the congregation but also great determination to do what needs to be done and within minutes about two hundred men set off, running after the fifty Covenanters on horseback who’ve already galloped away.

I’m not alone in what I’m considering and soon I’m one of more than thirty of the strongest women who agree that we need to provide what help we can to our menfolk, some of whom will inevitably be injured.

With no weapons to hinder us we’re not far behind them and we reach the top of a hill as Hamilton is organising men into formations along the side facing the direction of the expected attack, Covenanters with muskets in front of the lines of men with improvised weapons.

Those on horseback are split into two groups positioned either side.

Samuel is at the end of his line nearest to me and I walk over, still trying to catch my breath after our frantic dash.

‘Don’t be angry,’ I say in response to his expression. ‘We’re here to help the injured and no one can expect anything less of us.’

He nods, his chest heaving after his own run. It’s only minutes later when dragoons appear, their horses brought to a stop several hundred yards away on the other side of an extremely boggy area.

‘It’s Claverhouse!’ says Samuel, upon seeing the officer at the front. ‘He’ll have been hoping to catch us at our prayers, damn him.’

Since his recent return from military service on the Continent, John Graham of Claverhouse has become one of the most feared officers in the Royalist army, a man whose zeal for hunting Covenanters throughout the south-west of Scotland has made him infamous.

I hear his name being spoken along the line as more people realise the danger they’re facing.

‘Those prisoners?’ I ask, pointing to a dozen or so men who are bound and being taken over to one side of what may become the battleground. ‘One’s a minister.’

Samuel looks to where I’m pointing. ‘That’s the Reverend John King. He must have been captured on his way to our gathering. Such a famous Covenanter preacher will have been high on the authority’s wanted list.’

A single officer rides slowly towards us holding up a short branch that has a white cloth tied to the top, a clear sign that our enemy wants to speak.

‘Hold your fire,’ shouts Hamilton. ‘Let’s hear what they have to say.’

The ground is so soft that the officer is forced to remain some distance away and raise his voice. ‘If you lay down your weapons and hand over your leaders, the rest of you may go free, unharmed.’

There’s a moment of silence before the men in the lines start jeering and calling insults. There are plenty of obscene gestures and laughter at the suggestion and also of the idea that anyone would be allowed to just walk away.

‘You have your answer,’ shouts Hamilton. ‘Now go and tell your master that this time he’s facing men who are prepared for a fight, not unarmed Christians at prayer.’

Everyone falls silent as we watch the officer ride back and speak to Claverhouse. His response carries clearly over to us, as it’s meant to.

‘No quarter! No quarter to be given!’

‘Violet, move away now,’ says Samuel.

I run back towards the other women and out of the direct line of fire.

Hamilton repeats the order to the men under his command.

It’s a desperate thing to hear because it means neither side will spare anyone, regardless of how injured they are or even if they throw down their weapon to surrender. It will be a fight without mercy.

There are about a hundred and fifty dragoons and some fire a ragged volley from their carabines, hitting a few of our men.

Covenanters return fire. It’s not long before Hamilton orders those on horseback to make their way around the boggy ground and attack the enemy’s flank while those on foot are ordered to move forward.

I expect them to rush down the hill but instead they march in line as they sing.

‘God is known in Judah; His name is great in Israel .?.?.’

Tears prickle in my eyes to see them so fearless, even as those dragoons who have not already discharged their weapons fire them.

Carabines are extremely difficult to reload while mounted and Claverhouse orders a charge, his rasping voice carrying above all other sounds.

Several women cry out in terror as the horses thunder onwards, straight towards the men on foot.

However, the heavy animals are soon floundering as they sink into the mud, and the tide of battle turns in an instant as Covenanters armed with long pitchforks, pikes and halberds, and with their determination to do God’s work and free the Kirk, set about a bloody revenge on the dragoons.

Moments later, Hamilton’s horsemen attack from the firmer ground.

This scene of carnage roots me to the spot, until one of the women shouts out that we have to help the men left behind.

Those injured have been shot, but there are only a few and after quickly checking them, I leave their care to others.

Down the hill the Royalist soldiers are already fleeing, leaving many dead amongst the riderless horses that stand trembling in shock.

Several mounted Covenanters chase after Claverhouse.

Samuel is easy to spot. He’s talking to Calum and they appear unhurt.

Hamish is there too, showing his skill with animals by calming a terrified horse.

Over to the right, my father and the Reverend Colvil are helping to untie the prisoners.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief; now I know they are safe, I can tend to some of the injured.

I’m binding a slash wound to a man’s arm when Samuel finds me.

‘Our men have all returned,’ he says to us. ‘Some of them chased Claverhouse but our farm horses are no match for what the dragoons ride. The cowards probably won’t stop running away until they reach Glasgow! How are you, friend?’

‘Your wife is a natural healer and this is a great victory,’ replies the man.

‘Violet is a natural healer, but whether this is a great victory .?.?.’

‘But we beat them completely,’ I say, surprised that he seems so wary.

‘I fear what we’ve done,’ says Samuel, ‘is merely poke a willow up the king’s arse.’