Page 18 of A Fire in Their Hearts

‘D AMN THEM! THEY’RE CONTINUING TO fight amongst themselves with no thought to the real enemy that we’re going to face in the coming days!’

My father has rejoined us and I’ve never seen him so angry.

We’re gathered around a fire, Samuel, Calum, Hamish and me.

The Reverend Colvil, I assume, is still at the meeting that my father has refused to remain at.

He sits down, his expression suddenly of such despair that it’s as if we’ve already lost. We wait in silence for him to speak.

Around us, thousands of Covenanters are spread out in similar small groups, sitting around their fires, eating and talking. Eventually, he calms down sufficiently to explain what’s happening.

‘They’re still arguing fiercely about points of dogma and whether ministers who accepted an Indulgence to retain their position should even be amongst us.

It’s become so heated that certain officers are refusing to work alongside those from different factions.

What’s more damaging is that some ministers are preaching against their fellow ministers, which means ordinary men will have their loyalties split further.

‘They’re so far apart in their individual demands it’s hard to believe anyone has got together at all.

Sir Robert Hamilton would have the king off his throne and probably his head off his body, while the Reverend John Welsh and his moderates want to meet the king and have a bloody discussion.

As if such a thing is likely after so many murders and atrocities .

.?. I grant it, on both sides.’ With this outburst, Father drops his head into his hands and falls silent.

Our success at Drumclog, where we so decisively beat Claverhouse and his dragoons, changed everything .

.?. and yet nothing. To many it was a sign from God and thousands rose up to join the fight, yet to me our journey feels aimless and without firm leadership.

Days ago we set up camp on the south side of the Clyde, only to move it several times within the same area.

There are said to be six thousand Covenanters and, in principle, we’re led by Sir Robert Hamilton, who took charge successfully at Drumclog.

However, not everyone supports his appointment, which appears to be largely his own decision.

Sometime soon, we’ll face an army of regular troops and militia led by the king’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth, who has been ordered back from England because of our actions.

Father lifts his head. ‘Welsh might at least get to speak to Monmouth. The duke is said to be an honourable man and may be keen to avoid mass bloodshed if possible, yet he’s certain to be under strict orders from the king and I doubt he’ll have much room to negotiate.

How have we come to this?’ The despair in his voice is heartbreaking.

‘Nobody is even checking that men have sufficient powder or shot for the forthcoming battle.’

*?*?*

‘I’m going to stretch my legs,’ says Samuel, standing and looking at me.

It’s about an hour since my father returned and the mood around our fire has been unbearable.

There’s still no sign of the Reverend Colvil.

I get up without speaking and walk slowly away with Samuel in the direction of the river, passing through numerous other groups.

I’m surprised to see so few around some fires and there are a couple burning down unattended.

From the top of the hill, we watch men building a sturdy barricade across this side of the large stone bridge, its four impressive archways spanning the width of the Clyde.

Gangs of men carry heavy timbers, horses drag the trunks of sawn trees, wooden crates are carefully positioned and filled with stones.

The activity is being repeated to the east and west of the bridge on this side to provide cover for those firing muskets.

The surrounding area of the river mainly consists of ploughed fields with some woods in the distance.

The nearest village is called Bothwell. It’s on the north side and, although there isn’t any sign of the government’s army, I assume the residents fled as soon as they heard of our arrival.

Samuel and I haven’t spoken since leaving the others and I can’t stand the silence .

.?. the unspoken words .?.?. the unacknowledged fear.

‘Are you thinking of Rullion Green?’ I ask him.

His eyes darken at the mere mention of it. ‘I’m always thinking of Rullion Green.’

‘What else?’

‘That the river is too wide and fast-flowing for anyone to cross other than by the bridge. If we hold it, then we keep Monmouth’s army on the other side, where all they can do is fire muskets from a distance that makes the weapon so inaccurate, targets can be hit only by sheer luck.’

‘You think we can’t hold it? The barricade is beginning to look formidable.’

‘The problem is we can’t hold it forever . We might keep them back for a few hours .?.?. maybe a day or two .?.?. but eventually they’ll get across.’

‘And we’ll lose?’

‘This fight, yes. The various factions have been arguing for years. If every point of view was a colour on a painter’s palette there would be sufficient variety to reproduce any picture in the world.

There’s almost no chance that those in charge are going to agree anything significant by tomorrow.

So, like your father says, we’ll be divided. Men are already slipping away.’

‘What! Covenanters are leaving?’

‘Men say they’re going to take a piss, only they don’t come back. Others are more open, walking away quietly in small groups.’

‘And no one stops them?’

‘People are here of their own free will. They might be condemned and cursed for leaving but they can’t be compelled to remain. They don’t lack courage, but when they hear that their leaders are falling out amongst themselves, they lose hope. Violet, you must leave before the fighting starts.’

There are scores of women amongst the Covenanters .

.?. wives, sweethearts, sisters, others who believe so strongly in the cause that they’re here because there is nowhere else to be.

Following Drumclog, my mother and Samuel’s returned to Coylton, where they have many friends and could be certain of finding a safe place to stay.

It was a decision that we made together as families, agreeing they no longer had the ability to play a part in any sort of army.

‘Samuel, all the men I love are here .?.?. you and Calum, Hamish, my father and yours. We’re bound together on this tiny patch of Scottish soil. Do you really think I’m going to leave? You and I have faced danger side by side these many years. It won’t be any different tomorrow.’

His eyes are brimming with sorrow as he looks at me.

‘My love, this will be different. The loss, brutality, violence and deaths will be on a scale we’ve not seen before.

Men like Claverhouse will want revenge for the humiliation of Drumclog.

I don’t believe our family will all survive and those that do might not be free.

’ His voice breaks as he continues. ‘It’s ironic, we’ve fought for freedom to worship as we wish and may yet lose any freedom whatsoever.

We won’t even be able to take a walk in the countryside at our own choosing. ’

‘Oh, Samuel!’

He takes me in his arms. I can hear his heart beating wildly against my ear. Will it still be beating this time tomorrow? Am I to return to Coylton a widow?

Dread such as I have never known threatens to sweep me away like a twig thrown into the Clyde.

I cling to Samuel. As long as we have each other, we have a future together and will be all right.

I tell this to myself over and over, but the repetition doesn’t dispel the doubt in my heart, not for a single second.

*?*?*

The vanguard of the government’s army arrives during the night and sets up on the north side of the Clyde.

Daybreak results in a few dozen shots being exchanged across the water but no Covenanters are injured.

The encounter is brief with the soldiers opposite no doubt deciding to wait for the main body to arrive.

Apparently, arguments between different factions continued throughout the night with little thought given to planning for the battle.

I can feel how divided we are as a force, as surely as I can smell the woodsmoke from the fires.

We’ve become separate groups. The most noticeable are the three hundred men behind the recently constructed barricade.

Samuel and Calum are amongst them. It’s easy to make out their figures near the brass cannon that has been positioned so that it can fire along the length of the bridge.

Most Covenanters remain on the hill, the senior officers on horseback gathered around the Covenanters’ gold and blue flag proclaiming For Christ’s Crown and Covenant .

The flag hangs limply upon its pole, the words unreadable as if they’ve somehow been lost.

Hamish joins me. We’re still together mid-morning when the enemy arrives in force. We watch in silence as they form up on the other side of the river. Several cannons are manhandled into specific positions facing us. Our one cannon, which had seemed so formidable, now appears rather vulnerable.

‘They outnumber us at least two to one,’ says Hamish, who has no orders and so has simply wandered where he wants. ‘I’m sorry, Violet.’

‘For what?’

‘Anything and everything I’ve ever said or done that’s hurt you.’

‘I can’t think of any instances.’

‘I’ve always loved and admired you .?.?. even when you were so irritating .?.?. my big sister.’

‘By about twenty minutes, according to Father.’

‘He says that bringing us into the world was the happiest moment of his life.’

I smile, recalling the many times Father has told me this story. ‘I was loud and you were quiet.’

He kisses me on the forehead. ‘Nothing’s changed then.’

I hug him. ‘Well, know that I love you and I’m proud of all you’ve done.’