(OF 3) ***




Produced by Al Haines.





                         *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

      I. Hostilities--A Love Letter
     II. The Ball.--The Bull-Fight.--An Adventure
    III. The Skirmish of Fuente Duenna.  The Leaguer of Alba de Tormes
     IV. Angus Mackie
      V. An Adventure.  A Highland Legend
     VI. A Battle
    VII. An Out-Picquet Adventure
   VIII. Pass of Maya.--Pyrenees
     IX. The Block-house.  Mina
      X. The Chatelet
     XI. 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 _cafes_ 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,