Monmouth ordered the fighting to stop, but as soon as he left, some rogue royalists chased the surrendering men through the town of Hamilton. By the end of the day, four hundred were dead, and twelve hundred more were taken prisoner. Three hours from when it had begun, the Battle of Bothwell Brigg was over and the Clyde River ran red.
*
Mari awoke to the chaos of men coming back from the battle. She bolted up. How could she have slept? It was Nellie who had insisted that she lie down. To appease her, Mari lay awake in the tent as the sounds of battle filled most of the morning. She was weak from the loss of her baby only two days before, and the ordeal in kirk before that; but Callum was out there somewhere, and she needed to find him. Nellie was gone. Mari got up and combed her fingers through her hair, then went outside to find a plate of oatcakes covered with cloth, which Nellie had left for her. Mari went to the bucket and splashed water on her face and wiped down her neck; then she drank half a cup of the ale just to stave off a weak, trembling sensation.
Soldiers walked past and talked of the battle. Mari walked through camp, searching for Callum. With each passing dragoon, she felt more and more lost. Without knowing whether Callum was safe, time moved slowly. She did not know how the camp was laid out, where the barbers or surgeons might be, so she headed in the direction from which all the soldiers were coming. Some were bloodied and wounded, while others looked oddly unscathed.
She stopped soldiers as they passed. “Please, I’m looking for Callum MacDonell.”
Soldier after soldier shook his head.
“Callum MacDonell! Has anyone seen him?” she cried out, walking more briskly.
She found her way to Bothwell Bridge. Mari stopped and looked out over hundreds of bodies strewn over the landscape. “Callum.” His name caught in her throat.
People wandered through the field and searched bodies for items worth taking. Prisoners were taken and ordered to lie on the ground without moving. One Covenanter turned over and was shot. Dead soldiers were stripped of any uniform garments that might be reused. They were then loaded onto handcarts and taken to a large pit in which bodies were collected. A dragoon sprinkled quicklime over them, layer-by-layer. Mari watched blankly.
“Miss, this is no place for you.” When she did not respond, a gentle hand touched her shoulder.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said without taking her eyes from the scene.
“Come away, Miss.”
When she finally looked back, Mari saw before her an English officer of some rank, judging from his uniform decoration. He led her to a stool outside one of the tents. “Please, do sit down for a moment,” he told her. She looked at him with the blank stare of a woman in shock, but allowed him to guide her. He introduced himself as Captain Lumsden. As they exchanged introductions, Mari thought it so strange that they could be so civilized amid all of the carnage about them.
In answer to his inquiry, she explained, “I am looking for someone. He might be hurt, and I dinnae ken how to find him.”
He handed her a pint of ale and said, “Tell me about him. Perhaps I can help.”
She told him Callum’s name, with which clan he was fighting. “He’s a cavalry officer. An ensign.”
“I will make inquiries. In the meanwhile, go back to your camp. He or his men will know to find you there. They’re probably looking for you now.”
Mari stood, ready to leave. “What if he’s out there?” She looked across the moor littered with bodies all broken and bloody.
He looked squarely at her, and did not mince words. “If he’s out there, it is better that you dinnae see him. He would not want it, I promise you that. Go back to your camp and wait there.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.” Mari left, headed toward Nellie’s tent. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the surgery is?” she asked a passing soldier.
“No, lass,”
*
Mari awoke to the chaos of men coming back from the battle. She bolted up. How could she have slept? It was Nellie who had insisted that she lie down. To appease her, Mari lay awake in the tent as the sounds of battle filled most of the morning. She was weak from the loss of her baby only two days before, and the ordeal in kirk before that; but Callum was out there somewhere, and she needed to find him. Nellie was gone. Mari got up and combed her fingers through her hair, then went outside to find a plate of oatcakes covered with cloth, which Nellie had left for her. Mari went to the bucket and splashed water on her face and wiped down her neck; then she drank half a cup of the ale just to stave off a weak, trembling sensation.
Soldiers walked past and talked of the battle. Mari walked through camp, searching for Callum. With each passing dragoon, she felt more and more lost. Without knowing whether Callum was safe, time moved slowly. She did not know how the camp was laid out, where the barbers or surgeons might be, so she headed in the direction from which all the soldiers were coming. Some were bloodied and wounded, while others looked oddly unscathed.
She stopped soldiers as they passed. “Please, I’m looking for Callum MacDonell.”
Soldier after soldier shook his head.
“Callum MacDonell! Has anyone seen him?” she cried out, walking more briskly.
She found her way to Bothwell Bridge. Mari stopped and looked out over hundreds of bodies strewn over the landscape. “Callum.” His name caught in her throat.
People wandered through the field and searched bodies for items worth taking. Prisoners were taken and ordered to lie on the ground without moving. One Covenanter turned over and was shot. Dead soldiers were stripped of any uniform garments that might be reused. They were then loaded onto handcarts and taken to a large pit in which bodies were collected. A dragoon sprinkled quicklime over them, layer-by-layer. Mari watched blankly.
“Miss, this is no place for you.” When she did not respond, a gentle hand touched her shoulder.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said without taking her eyes from the scene.
“Come away, Miss.”
When she finally looked back, Mari saw before her an English officer of some rank, judging from his uniform decoration. He led her to a stool outside one of the tents. “Please, do sit down for a moment,” he told her. She looked at him with the blank stare of a woman in shock, but allowed him to guide her. He introduced himself as Captain Lumsden. As they exchanged introductions, Mari thought it so strange that they could be so civilized amid all of the carnage about them.
In answer to his inquiry, she explained, “I am looking for someone. He might be hurt, and I dinnae ken how to find him.”
He handed her a pint of ale and said, “Tell me about him. Perhaps I can help.”
She told him Callum’s name, with which clan he was fighting. “He’s a cavalry officer. An ensign.”
“I will make inquiries. In the meanwhile, go back to your camp. He or his men will know to find you there. They’re probably looking for you now.”
Mari stood, ready to leave. “What if he’s out there?” She looked across the moor littered with bodies all broken and bloody.
He looked squarely at her, and did not mince words. “If he’s out there, it is better that you dinnae see him. He would not want it, I promise you that. Go back to your camp and wait there.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.” Mari left, headed toward Nellie’s tent. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the surgery is?” she asked a passing soldier.
“No, lass,”
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