The Weird of the Three Arrows

Sir James Douglas, the companion of Bruce, and well known by his
appellation of the "Black Douglas," was once, during the hottest period
of the exterminating war carried on by him and his colleague Randolph,
against the English, stationed at Linthaughlee, near Jedburgh. He was
resting, himself and his men after the toils of many days'
fighting-marches through Teviotdale; and, according to his custom, had
walked round the tents, previous to retiring to the unquiet rest of a
soldier's bed. He stood for a few minutes at the entrance to his tent
contemplating the scene before him, rendered more interesting by a clear
moon, whose silver beams fell, in the silence of a night without a breath
of wind, calmly on the slumbers of mortals destined to mix in the melee
of dreadful war, perhaps on the morrow. As he stood gazing, irresolute
whether to retire to rest or indulge longer in a train of thought not
very suitable to a warrior who delighted in the spirit-stirring scenes of
his profession, his eye was attracted by the figure of an old woman, who
approached him with a trembling step, leaning on a staff, and holding in
her left hand three English cloth-shaft arrows.

"You are he who is ca'ed the guid Sir James?" said the old woman.

"I am, good woman," replied Sir James. "Why hast thou wandered from the
sutler's camp?"

"I dinna belang to the camp o' the hoblers," answered the woman. "I hae
been a residenter in Linthaughlee since the day when King Alexander
passed the door o' my cottage wi' his bonny French bride, wha was
terrified awa' frae Jedburgh by the death's-head whilk appeared to her on
the day o' her marriage. What I hae suffered sin' that day" (looking at
the arrows in her hand) "lies between me an' heaven."

"Some of your sons have been killed in the wars, I presume?" said Sir
James.

"Ye hae guessed a pairt o' my waes," replied the woman. "That arrow"
(holding out one of the three) "carries on its point the bluid o' my
first born; that is stained wi' the stream that poured frae the heart o'
my second; and that is red wi' the gore in which my youngest weltered, as
he gae up the life that made me childless. They were a' shot by English
hands, in different armies, in different battles. I am an honest woman,
and wish to return to the English what belongs to the English; but that
in the same fashion in which they were sent. The Black Douglas has the
strongest arm an' the surest ee in auld Scotland; an' wha can execute my
commission better than he?"

"I do not use the bow, good woman," replied Sir James. "I love the grasp
of the dagger or the battle-axe. You must apply to