meeting should be free of scathe. Now the Warden of Liddesdale at that
time was Sir Walter Scott of Branxholme, laird of Buccleuch. He was one
of the greatest men of his century; a "fyrebrande," according to Queen
Elizabeth, and a fierce enemy according to those who incurred his
enmity; but, according to all others, a man of perfect courage,
stainless loyalty and honour, charming wit, and great culture. He never
spared an enemy nor turned his back on a friend, and he was a born
winner of hearts and leader of men. Amongst his retainers was Kinmont
Willie, and as Willie rode from the Wardens' meeting, along the banks of
the Liddel, in company with only three or four men, a body of two
hundred English horsemen, commanded by Salkeld, Warden of the Eastern
March, marked him from across the water. Truce or no truce, the chance
seemed to them one that was too good to lose. Speedily some of them
pushed on ahead, and an ambush was laid for Kinmont Willie. He and his
friends were naturally totally unprepared for such a dastardly attack,
but it took them but little time to gather their wits, and Willie gave
them a good run for their money. For nearly four miles they chased him,
but ran him down at length. After some hard giving and taking, he had to
acknowledge his defeat, and, pinioned like a common malefactor--arms
tied behind him, legs bound under his horse's belly--they rode with him
into Carlisle town.

The news of the treacherous taking of his follower was not long in
reaching Buccleuch, who at once raised an angry protest. Scrope, the
English Warden, received this with an evasive and obviously trumped-up
counter-charge of Kinmont Will having first broken truce. Moreover, he
said, he was a notorious enemy to law and order, and must bear the
penalty of his misdeeds. This was more than the bold Buccleuch could
stomach.