Title: The Three Perils of Man, Vol. 3 (of 3) - or, War, Women, and Witchcraft
Author: Hogg, James, 1770-1835
Language: English
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    THE

    THREE PERILS OF MAN:

    _A BORDER ROMANCE_.



    THE
    THREE PERILS OF MAN;

    OR,
    War, Women, and Witchcraft.

    _A BORDER ROMANCE._

    BY JAMES HOGG,
    AUTHOR OF "WINTER-EVENING TALES," "BROWNIE OF
    BODSBECK," "QUEEN'S WAKE," _&c._ _&c._

    IN THREE VOLUMES.

    VOL. III.

    Beshrew me if I dare open it.
        FLETCHER.

    LONDON:
    LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,
    PATERNOSTER-ROW.

    1822.



John Moir, Printer, Edinburgh, 1822.



THE

THREE PERILS OF MAN.



CHAP. I.

    And he said unto Satan; whence comest thou?
    And he answered, and said, thou knowest it is true,
    That I come from wandering on the earth,
    And from going to and fro on it,
    Like a masterless dog, with my bow-wow-wow.

        _Zach. Boyd's Bible._


At the very time they were disputing about the right of Tam to proceed
with his tale, their ears were astounded by a loud hollo! at the gate.
Every man's heart leaped for joy, and every one was instantly on his
feet; but Charlie was first on the platform, and answered the hollo!
with full stentorian voice. The same voice called again,

"A Bellandine."

"Where bye?" answered Charlie.

"By the moon," said the voice.

"And the seven stars!" rejoined Yardbire, clapping his hands, and
shouting for joy, "The Warden for ever! My chief for ever! He is the
man that cares for his own! Ah! he is the noble master."

Charlie well knew the voice that hailed him. It was that of his friend
and companion in arms, Dan Chisholm, whom the Warden had indeed
despatched all the way from Northumberland to Aikwood, to see what was
become of his embassy, with six-and-twenty chosen troopers. Charlie
Scott's arm was a bulwark of strength, and his breast a tower of
fidelity, the value of which Sir Ringan knew how to estimate, while
his acts of kindness and regard made a deep impression on Charlie's
honest unsophisticated heart; and before he would say a word about the
situation of either himself or his associates, he caused Dan to inform
him of the Warden's fortune and success in their absence. Being
satisfied concerning these, he called out,

"What ither uncos, Dan? What mair news are come out?"

"O, God shield you!" cried Dan, "Do nae ye ken that the world's
amaist turned up-side-down sin ye left us? The trees hae turned their
wrang ends upmost--the waters hae drowned the towns, and the hills hae
been rent asunder and riddled up like heaps o' chaff. 'Tis thought
that there has been a siege o' hell, and that the citadel has been
won, for the deils are a' broken loose and rinning jabbering through
the land. They hae been seen, and they hae been heard; and nae man
kens what's to be the issue, or what's to fa' out neist."

"Blaw lown, Dan; ye dinna ken wha may hear ye," said Charlie. "We hae
had hand in these matter oursels: But for the sake of a' that's dear
to you and to us bring gavelocks and ern mells, pinching-bars, and
howies, and break open every gate, bar, and door in this castle; for
here are we a' imprisoned on the top of it, and famishing to dead wi'
hunger and starvation."

"That I will do wi' a' expedition," answered Dan. "It is a shame for
the master of the castle to imprison his kinsmen's friends, who came
to him in peace and good fellowship. What strength of opposition
holds he?"

"Nane, good Chisholm, but these gates. The great Master is himself a
prisoner, and suffering with us."

"That dings a'!" said Dan; "I canna understand it! But its a' ane for
that; ye maunna stay there. I shall gar his gates flee a' into as mony
flinders as there are hairs on his grey beard."

"If you demolish one bar of these gates, young man," cried the Master
fiercely, "you do it at your peril."

"So I do, and so I will," answered Dan: "Either bring down my friends
and companions to me this instant, or--I have orders,--and here goes."

"Man of mystery and of misery, what dost thou mean?" said the friar.
"Lo I have saved thy life; and if thou refusest to let us escape from
the face of death, I will even throw thee from the top of thy tower,
and thy blood shall be sprinkled on the wall."

The Master gave him a fierce look, but made no reply. As he strode the
battlement, however, he muttered to himself with great violence,
"Does the Christian dog dare to beard me thus? To what am I fallen? I
am fallen low, but not to this. And not to know what I am! nor what
power remains with me? Would that I were in the midst of my arcana and
of the spirits once more! Young warrior, use your liberty. Break up
and demolish. Set us all free, and see who is the profiter."

Dan scarcely needed such permission. He and twenty others had each a
stone of at least half his own weight heaved on his shoulder, which,
at a given signal, they all dashed on the gate at once. The bars bent,
but nothing gave way; and it was not before the twentieth broadside,
in the same irresistible style, that the cross bars became like a bow
and the lock slipped. As for the large bolt, one of the men had
climbed over the counterguard on the shoulders of the rest and drawn
it. When they came to the gate of the castle, entrance seemed
hopeless. It was stedfast and immoveable, the door being double. Dan
bellowed for the porter, and asked those on the top what was become of
him; but none made answer to his rash question. After waiting a while
for it, with his face placed horizontally, he muttered to himself,
"Aha! mum there! He has gane nae gude gate, I'll warrant him. It's a
queer place this, an' as queer folk about it."

"What's queer about it, lad," said a strange voice through the key
hole, whence it would not speak again.

They had nothing for it but to begin with such awkward mattocks as
they had, namely, a score of huge stones; but, to their excessive joy,
the doors gave both way at the first assault. This was owing to a most
fortunate blunder of the friar, who, during the time he was in
possession of the keys, had gone forth to provide for his mule, which
he did in an ample manner, but, on returning, had either been unable
or unwilling to turn the tremendous locks again into their sockets;
and open flew the gates with a jarring sound. Of course, it was not
long till our yeomen were thundering at the iron door on the small
stair. It was a double door of strong iron bars, and the lock was
inclosed between them, so that all attempts to open it appeared
fruitless, one man only being able to get to it at once, (that is, one
on each side,) and these had no footing. After tugging at it in vain
for a space, Dan swore that, to open it, it would be necessary either
to begin at the top of the tower and demolish downward, or at the
bottom and demolish upward. This appeared a job so tedious to starving
people, that it was agreed to feed them with meat and drink through
the bars. Every man readily proffered the contents of his wallet; but
the getting of these through the bars required ingenuity. They poured
the meal through in tubes made of leather, and water and strong drink
in the same way; but the flesh could only be got through in long small
pieces; and Tam Craik having taken his station at the back of the
door, in order to hand up the provisions to his companions, none of
the butcher-meat (as it is now called) found its way farther. By the
time they had got a supply of meal, water, and distilled liquor, some
of Dan's party, by the direction of the Master, went to bring mattocks
for raising the stair, and forcing a passage through below the door;
others had gone to the brook for more water; so that none remained in
the narrow stair save Dan Chisholm and another person.

By this time there was one who had been silently watching the progress
of affairs at Aikwood castle, where he had long been accustomed to
reckon on every thing as his own; but now there were some things
passed under his potent eye, the true motives for which he could not
comprehend, and these actions were still growing more and more
equivocal; so he resolved on trusting his sworn vassals no more to
their own guardianship, but to take an active management in guiding
the events that so deeply concerned his honour and power. Who this
august personage was the reader will scarcely guess. He may perhaps
discover it in the detail.

It was wearing toward evening, the sun being either set or hid behind
dark clouds; for, short as these tales may appear as here related by
Isaac the curate, they had taken a day in telling by the wights
themselves. The individuals who had been shut up were all light of
heart and rejoicing. Delany had fainted in ecstacy, or partly,
perhaps, by exhaustion, but was soon recovered by a cup of cold water.
They had got plenty of stores laid in for a night and more; so that
they were freed from the dread of perishing by starvation, or saving
their lives by a resource of all others the most repulsive to
humanity. Such was the state of affairs, when the most appalling noise
was heard somewhere about the castle,--a noise which neither could be
described nor the cause of it discovered. The people below ran out to
the court or to the tops of the outer walls, and those above to the
battlements--but they saw nothing save the troopers' horses scowering
off in all directions, every one of them snorting aloud, and cocking
their heads and their tails. Tam Craik and Dan Chisholm were still
standing with their noses close to the iron door, and conversing
through it. Another trooper stood close at Dan's back; and, when the
rushing sound arose, the one said to the other,

"What the devil is that?"

"Take care wha ye speak about here, friend, or wi' reverence be it
spoken," said Tam. Then turning round, he called out, "Yardbire, what
hurly-burly is that?"

"I cannot tell," answered Charlie; "only I think the devil be entered
into the horses."

Tam, who did not hear distinctly from the top, answered Dan thus: "He
says its only the devil entered into the horses." Dan was just about
to reply, when the trooper tapped him on the shoulder, and said in a
whisper, "Hush, squire! Good Lord! look what is behind us." He looked
about, and saw a terrific being standing on the landing-place,
beckoning him to come down. From an irresistible impulse, he lost no
time in obeying; and, pushing the trooper down before him, he
descended the steps. When he came to the bottom he got a full view of
the figure, that stood upright between two pilasters, with its face
straight to the aperture that lighted the place. One may judge of our
yeomen's feelings when they gazed on a being which they always
described as follows:

It appeared about double the human size, both in might and proportion,
its whole body being of the colour of bronze, as well as the crown
upon its head. The skin appeared shrivelled, as if seared with fire,
but over that there was a polish that glittered and shone. Its eyes
had no pupil nor circle of white; they appeared like burning lamps
deep in their sockets; and when it gazed, they rolled round with a
circular motion. There was a hairy mantle hung down and covered its
feet that they could not be seen; but Dan saw its right hand, as it
pointed to them to retire, every finger of which terminated in a long
crooked talon that seemed of the colour of molten gold. It once opened
its mouth, not as if to speak but to breathe, and as it stooped
forward at the time, both of them saw it within. It had neither teeth,
tongue, nor throat, its whole inside being hollow, and of the colour
of burning glass.

It pointed with its right hand across its bosom for them to be gone,
and, as they passed by with hurried strides, it drew a stroke with its
paw which threatened to send them heels over head down the stair; but
it withheld the blow in a moment, as if moved to some higher revenge;
and all the way down the great winding stair, it followed and showered
on them such a torrent of burning sulphur that they were almost
overwhelmed, all the while vomiting it from its burning bosom, with a
noise that resembled the hissing of a thousand great serpents. Besides
this, on every landing-place there were a pair of monsters placed as
guards, immense snakes, bears, tigers, and lions, all with eyes like
burning candles. For all these, our two yeomen still kept their feet,
which was a wonder, and escaped fairly into the court of the castle.

When they arrived there, every one of their companions had taken
leg-bail, and were running as if for death or life; and after what our
two champions had seen, there was no occasion to bid them run after
the others. Those above heard only the rushing noise, which still
increased as long as there was one of those below within the gate, but
they saw nothing further,--and wondered not a little when they saw
first the horses run away, and then the men after them. When Charlie
saw that they _were_ gone, and his brother-in-arms Dan leaving the
outer-gate the last, he called after him to go _by the mill, and see
that Corbie got plenty of water_.

What our prisoners had witnessed was, like every thing else about that
castle, quite incomprehensible. Even the great Master himself was
manifestly at a loss; when he first heard the sound, and saw the
beginning of the confusion, his eyes beamed with exultation. He
gave three stamps with his foot, and called aloud, as to some
invisible being, in an unknown tongue; but on receiving no answer his
countenance fell, and he looked on in gloomy mood.

The flyers vanished after their horses on the hill to the eastward of
the castle. Once a few of them rallied and faced about; but on the
next one coming up they betook them again to their heels; and thus was
our hapless embassy left in the same state as before, save that they
were rather in higher spirits, their situation being now known, and
instant death averted. After they had refreshed themselves, most of
them fell into a slumber; but at length, as the evening advanced, the
poet claimed his privilege of telling a story. Some of them proposed
that the conversation should be general instead, seeing the great
stake for which they contended was now, in all likelihood, superseded.
The poet, however, was of a different opinion, on the ground that the
highest stake, in his estimation, still remained. "What though my life
may not be forfeited," said he, "to feed the hungry and carnivorous
maw of this outrageous baconist; although my warm and oozing blood may
not be sucked up like the stagnant marsh by bittern vile, or by the
tawney snipe; yea, though my joints should not be skatched and
collared by the steel, or sinews gnawed up by officious grinder:
What's that to me? a gem of higher worth, of richer acceptation, still
remains. Beauty unsullied! pure simplicity! with high endowments, in
affliction nursed, and cramped by bondage! Oh my very heart yearns to
call such a pearl of lustre mine! A kindred soul! A bosom friend! A
oh--oh--oach."

Charlie hasted to clap his hand on the poet's mouth, as he burst out
a-crying, "Hout, hout, Colly!" said he, "I am quite o' your opinion;
but truly this is carrying the joke ower far. I wish ye maunna hae
been hauddin rather freely to your head o' thae strong liquors; for
the singing crew are a' drowthy deils, ilk ane o' them. Whisht,
whisht, and ye sal tell your tale, or sing your sang, which you like;
and then you are free to take a collop, or gie a collop, wi' the best
o' them."

"I flatter myself that's rather a good thing? Eh?" said the poet.

"What thing?" said the other.

"The song that we overheard just now. Do you know who made that song?
Eh?"

"Not I."

"But you have heard our maidens chaunt it,--have you not? God bless
them! Sweet, dear, sweet, sweet creatures! Why, Sir, that song happens
to be mine; and I think I may say, without vanity, it is as good a
thing of the kind as you ever heard? Eh?"

"Faith, I believe it is," said Charlie--not knowing well what to say,
for he had heard no song whatever; and then turning to the rest, while
the poet was enlarging on the excellency of his song, he said, in an
under voice, "Gude faith, the poet's either gaen clean daft, or else
he's drunk. What shall I say to him?"

The poet tapped him on the shoulder, seeing he was not paying
attention.

"It is not for this, I say, that I judge the piece worthy of
attention; nor yet what it shows of ability, hability, docility,
or any of the terms that end in _ility_; nor for its allegory,
category, or any of the terms that end in _ory_. Neither is it for its
versification, imagination, nor any of the thousand abominable terms
that end in _ation_. No, sir, the properties of all my songs, I am
thankful to Saint Martin, end in _icity_ and _uity_. You know the
song, Yardbire?"

"O yes. Quite weel."

What do you think of the eleventh verse? Let me see. No, it is the
thirteenth verse." "Good Friday! are there so many?" "Hem--m--m.
The tenth is, the Ox-eye, I am sure of that. The eleventh is the
Mill-stone. The twelfth, the Cloudberry and the Shepherd Boy. The
thirteenth, is the Gander and Water-Wagtail. It is the fourteenth.
What do you think of the fourteenth? Ay, it is the Gowans and the
Laverock that you will like best. You remember that, I am sure?"

"O yes; to be sure I do,"--(Aside,) "Good Lord, the poet's horn mad!
Heard ever any body the like o' this?"

"How is this it runs? Ay,

    When the bluart bears a pearl,
      And the daisy turns a pea,
    And the bonny lucken gowan
      Has fauldit up his ee,
    Then the laverock frae the blue lift,
      Doops down and thinks nae shame
    To woo his bonny lassie,
      When the kye come hame.

"The song is good, and the music of the song also is delectable," said
the friar; "but the voice of the singer is like a sweet psaltery that
hath lost a string, and hath its belly rent by the staff of the
beater. Lo, I would even delight to hear the song from beginning to
end." "Sing it, poet, and let it stand for the tale," cried two of
them at once. "That I will not," answered he; "I will tell my tale in
my own style, and my own manner, as the rest have done: nevertheless,
if my throat were not so dry, I would sing the song." "It is
plain what he wants," said Charlie. "'Tis the gate wi' a' the
minstrels,--_wet the whistle, or want the spring_."

Charlie handed him another cup of strong drink, desiring him to take
it off and sing. He did the first freely, and attempted the second
with equal alacrity; but his voice and memory both failed him by the
way, to the great amusement of the whole party,--even the captive boy
screamed with laughter, and the great Master was twice constrained to
smile. But we must describe this scene as Isaac himself gives it.

The poet was sitting on a bench, with Charlie on the one hand, and
Delany on the other; and, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, and clasping
his hands, which he heaved up at every turn of the tune, he went on
thus:

    THE SWEETEST THING THE BEST THING.

    _A SONG._

    VERSE FIRST.

    Come tell me a' you shepherds
      That love the tarry woo',
    And tell me a' you jolly boys
      That whistle at the plow,
    What is the greatest bliss
      That the tongue of man can name,
    'Tis "To woo a bonny lassie
      When the kye come hame."
    When the kye come hame,
      When the kye come hame,
    'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
      When the kye come hame.

That's the burden, or the quoir, as father Cormack calls it;--the
o'erword, like.

    VERSE SECOND.

    'Tis not beneath the burgonet,
      Nor yet beneath the crown,
    'Tis not on couch of velvet,
      Nor yet in bed of down;
    'Tis beneath the spreading birch
      In the dell without the name,
    Wi' a bonny bonny lassie,
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame, &c.

    VERSE THIRD.

    There the blackbird bigs his nest
      For the mate he lo'es to see,
    And on the topmost bough,
      Oh a happy bird is he!
    There he pours his melting ditty,
      And love 'tis a' the theme;
    And he'll woo his bonny lassie
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame, &c.

    VERSE FOURTH.

    When the little wee bit heart
      Rises high in the breast,
    And the little wee bit starn
      Rises red in the east,
    O there's a joy sae dear,
      That the heart can hardly frame,
    Wi' a bonny bonny lassie,
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame, &c.

    VERSE FIFTH.

    Then the eye shines sae bright,
      The hale soul to beguile,
    There's love in every whisper,
      And joy in every smile.
    O wha wad chuse a crown
      Wi' its perils and its fame,
    And miss a bonny lassie
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame, &c.

Here the poet warred a long time with recollection, always repeating,
"I made the thing, and it is impossible I can forget it--I can't
comprehend----" At length he sung the following verse, which he said
was the fifteenth.

    VERSE THE FIFTEENTH.

    See yonder pawky shepherd,
      That lingers on the hill,
    His ewes are in the fauld
      And his lambs are lying still;
    Yet he downa gang to bed,
      For his heart is in a flame,
    To meet his bonnie lassie,
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame, &c.

    VERSE SIXTEENTH AND LAST.

    Away wi' fame and fortune,
      What comfort can they gie?
    And a' the arts that prey
      On man's life and libertye;
    Gie me the highest joy
      That the heart of man can frame,
    My bonny, bonny lassie,
      When the kye come hame.
    When the kye come hame,
      When the kye come hame;
    'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
      When the kye come hame.

"I made the thing," added the poet; "but God knows how I have forgot
it. Since I came to the top of this cursed tower, the wind has blown
it out of my head." With these words he fell into a profound sleep,
which they suffered him to enjoy, before he began his competition. In
the meantime, Isaac relates an extraordinary story of a certain
consultation that took place in the castle in that very interim, but
does not say on what authority he had it, none of the parties yet
named having apparently heard it.

The castle of Aikwood, says he, being left as before, an ample
and perilous void, some old and frequent inmates took undisputed
possession. The leader and convoker of this gang was no other than
the Master Fiend who ordered our yeomen out of the castle, and chased
them forth, with so little ceremony. In the great Master's study was
his gigantic and commanding frame placed at the end of the board,
while the three pages, Prig, Prim, and Pricker, were waiting his beck.

"Come nigh me, my friends," said he; "and read me what is to be done
with this king of mighty conjurors now?"

"What thou willest, our Lord and Master," was the reply: "Give the
command with the power, and thy pleasure shall be done."

"How canst thou answer for thy negligence in suffering this cowled and
canting vagabond to gain admittance here with his saws and parables,
his crosiers and his writings?"

"We meant to devour him, but our power extended not to it. Thou hast
seen the bones of one whom we suspected."

"You are indolent and wayward slaves. Either separate our greatest
vassal on earth from this captious professor, or you shall be
punished with many stripes. Our sway is dishonoured if such a man as
he is suffered to take shelter under a crosier, and there hold our
power at bay,--our control at defiance."--"Return to him that power
which since his dejection has been withdrawn, and you are sure of him
still. Riches and honours he despises: feasting and wine-bibing he
abhors: but for power to do what no other man can perform, he would
sell twenty souls, were they in his power of disposal."

"He is a great man, and well suited for our free independent
government. By his principle of insubordination to established
authorities, I yet hope to bring all mankind to my own mind and my own
country. Read me my riddle, you three slaves. What is the most hateful
thing in nature?"

"A saint."

"More ready than right, and more right than ingenious. Show cause."

"Because he is the greatest coward, and all that he does springs from
the detestable passion of terror."

"Right. Which being is the most noble?"

"The opposer of all established authorities ordained by the tyrant of
the universe."

"Right! Right! These are the men for me, and of these this Master was
a great ensample. Therefore, Separate! Separate! Separate! My
elemental power is solemnly engaged; but on the morning of the third
day, it shall be given to you to work again at your Master's will.
Till that time it will be as well to prevent all ingress and egress
here; and at that time I will come again. Speed you well, nimble
noddies; shape well and shard well, and the day is your own. While I
transform my shape, sing me the song that I love. Whenever I hear it,
my furtherance is the better. The imps complied, and the redoubted
fiend laughed till the walls of the castle shook, while those on the
top took it for the great bittern of the Hartwood, called there the
Bogbumper.

          HYMN TO THE DEVIL.

          SPEED thee, speed thee!
          Liberty lead thee!
    Many this night shall hearken and heed thee.
            Far abroad,
            Demigod!
        What shall appal thee?
    Javel, or Devil, or how shall we call thee?
    Thine the night voices of joy and of weeping,
    The whisper awake, and the vision when sleeping:
    The bloated kings of the earth shall brood
    On princedoms and provinces bought with blood,
    Shall slubber, and snore, and to-morrow's breath
    Shall order the muster and march of death:
    The trumpets shall sound, and the gonfalons flee,
    And thousands of souls step home to thee.
      Speed thee, speed thee, &c.

    The warrior shall dream of battle begun,
    Of field-day and foray, and foeman undone;
    Of provinces sacked, and warrior store,
    Of hurry and havoc, and hampers of ore;
    Of captive maidens for joys abundant,
    And ransom vast when these grow redundant.
    Hurray! for the foray. Fiends ride forth a souling,
    For the dogs of havock are yelping and yowling.
        Speed thee, speed thee, &c.

          Make the bedesman's dream
          With treasure to teem;
            To-day and to-morrow
            He has but one aim,
      And 'tis still the same, and 'tis still the same.
    But well thou knowest the sot's demerit,
    His richness of flesh, and his poorness of spirit;
    And well thy images thou canst frame,
    On canvas of pride, with pencil of flame:
    A broad demesne is a view of glory,
    For praying a soul from purgatory:
    And, O let the dame be fervent and fair,
    Amorous, and righteous, and husband beware!
    For there's a confession so often repeated,
    The eyes are enlightened, the life-blood is heated.
    Hish!--Hush!--soft foot and silence,
    The sons of the abbot are lords of the Highlands.
    Thou canst make lubbard and lighthead agree,
    Wallow a while, and come home to thee.
          Speed thee, speed thee, &c.

    Where goest thou next, by hamlet or shore,
    When kings, when warriors, and priests are o'er?
    These for thee have the most to do,
    And these are the men must be looked unto.
    On courtier deign not to look down,
    Who swells at a smile, and faints at a frown.
    With noble maid stay not to parle,
    But give her one glance of the golden arle.
    Then, oh, there's a creature thou needs must see,
    Upright, and saintly, and stern is she!
    'Tis the old maid, with visage demure,
    With cat on her lap, and dogs on the floor.
    Master, she'll prove a match for thee,
    With her psalter, and crosier, and Ave Mari.
    Move her with things above and below,
    Tickle her and teaze her from lip to toe;
    Should all prove vain, and nothing can move;
    If dead to ambition, and cold to love,
    One passion still success will crown,
    A glorious energy all thine own!
    'Tis envy; a die that never can fail
    With children, matron, or maiden stale.
    Shew them in dreams from night to day
    A happy mother, and offspring gay;
    Show them the maiden in youthful prime,
    Followed and wooed, improving her time;
    And their hearts will sicken with envy and spleen,
    A leperous jaundice of yellow and green:
    And though frightened for hell to a boundless degree,
    They'll singe their dry perriwigs yet with thee.
        Speed thee, speed thee, &c.

    Where goest thou next? Where wilt thou hie thee?
    Still there is rubbish enough to try thee.
    Whisper the matron of lordly fame,
    There's a greater than she in splendor and name;
    And her bosom shall swell with the grievous load,
    And torrents of slander shall volley abroad,
    Imbued with venom and bitter despair:
    O sweet are the sounds to the Prince of the Air!
    Reach the proud yeoman a bang with a spear,
    And the tippling burgess a yerk on the ear;
    Put fees in the eye of the poisoning leech,
    And give the dull peasant a kick on the breech:
    As for the flush maiden, the rosy elf,
    You may pass her by, she will dream of herself.
    But that all may be gain, and nothing loss,
    Keep eye on the men with the cowl and the cross;
    Then shall the world go swimming before thee,
    In a full tide of liberty, licence, and glory!
            Speed thee, speed thee, &c.

    Hail, patriot spirit! thy labours be blest!
    For of all great reformers thyself wert the first;
    Thou wert the first, with discernment strong,
    To perceive that all rights divine were wrong;
    And long hast thou spent thy sovereign breath,
    In heaven above and in earth beneath,
    And roared it from thy burning throne,
    The glory of independence alone;
    Proclaiming to all, with fervor and irony,
    That kingly dominion's all humbug and tyranny;
    And whoso listeth may be free,
    For freedom, full freedom's the word with thee!
    That life has its pleasures--the rest is a sham,
    And all that comes after a flim and a flam!
            Speed thee! Speed thee!
            Liberty lead thee!
    Many this night shall hearken and heed thee.
                Hie abroad,
                Demigod!
            Who shall defame thee?
    King of the Elements! how shall we name thee?

As the imps concluded their song, our prisoners on the top of the
castle perceived a large rough watch-dog jogging out at the gate of
the castle, and following in the direction of the fugitives. When the
brute saw that he was perceived he turned round, set up his snout
toward the battlements, and uttered a loud bow-wow-wow, which, when
the great Master heard, he started to his feet, and, with wild staring
looks, and his hair standing on end, took shelter behind the friar."

"Behold thou, and see with thine eyes, that it is only a watch-dog
come from the camp of our captain," said the friar. "Lo, thy very
nature is changed since first I saw thee."

"Then, would to the gods that I had never seen thee, or that I had
seen thee sooner," said the Master; and strode away to discourage any
farther reply. The dog followed the fugitives, and bent his course
toward the mill.

That being the next inhabited house to the eastward, Dan Chisholm and
his yeomen landed all there; and in full assembly he related, to
their terror and astonishment, how he had seen the devil himself and
several of his monstrous agents, who had chased him from the castle,
spuing fire and brimstone on him like a cataract. The rest said, that
though they had not seen the devil, they had seen and heard enough to
put any rational being out of his senses, and as much as to teach them
never to go there again. Dan swore that they were not to be taught any
such thing; for, said he, "Our captain's friends, and our own brethren
in arms, are most unwarrantably, and I must also say unaccountably,
confined there,--and we will either free them or perish in the
attempt. I can find plenty of holy men that, with book and candle, can
withstand the devil, and shall make him flee from his stronghold like
fire from the flint. If I had the gospel friar on the one side of him,
and Father Brand, or Capuchin Cairnabie, on the other, I shall gar him
skip." While Dan was in the middle of this speech, in comes the great
rough watch-dog; who, after fawning on some of the warriors as on old
acquaintances, took his station in a dark corner of the miller's
thronged hall, and began a licking his feet, but at the same time
taking good heed to all that passed. It was finally agreed that Dan
and a companion should ride straight to Melrose, and represent their
case to the holy abbot there, who was devoted to the interests of
their captain, and who, it was not doubted, would devise means of
expelling the old demon from his guardship, and letting free their
friends, who were all baptised men and good Christians. As they formed
these sapient devices, many hard things were said of the devil; and
our warriors seemed rather inclined to make a laughing-stock of him,
till the miller's maid interrupted them with the following question:

"Wha o' you trooper chaps does this maskis dog belang to?"

"To nane o' us," was answered by several at the same time.

"I wish ye wad tent him, then," said she, "for, this wee while bygane,
his een hae been glentin like twa blue burnin candles: I wish he be
nae a mad ane."

"Sneck doors, and out swords," cried the miller: "We'll hae him
proven."

The doors were shut, and the yeomen surrounded the dog with their
drawn weapons. The poor beast lay as harmless-like as a lamb, with his
head upon his fore feet so as to hide them, turning up his eyes from
below his shaggy brows in a beseeching manner, and wagging his tail
till it played thump, thump, on the floor. But this did not hinder the
miller from reconnoitring, though it gave him rather a favourable
opinion of his shaggy guest. "Poor fellow," said the miller, "wha's
dog may ye be?" The dog forgot himself; he lifted up his head in a
kind acknowledging manner to the miller, who, looking narrowly at him,
cried out: "A marvel! a marvel! saw ever ony mortal man the like o'
this? Here's a tyke wi' cloven cloots like a gait, fairney cloots and
a' thegither. The Holy Virgin be wi' us! I believe we hae gotten
the----"

Here the miller was interrupted, without getting the sentence
concluded. The dog sprung to his feet, appearing twice as big as when
he entered. "Bow-wow-wow!" roared he in the miller's face with the
voice of an enraged lion; "Bow-wow-wow!" And as he bayed from side to
side on the warrior circle, they all retreated backward till the wall
stopped them. Well might they,--for they perceived, by his open mouth,
the same appearance that Dan had before witnessed, namely, a stomach
and chest of burning flame. "Bow-wow-wow!" reiterated he: "Youph,
youph, youph." All fled back aghast; but the attack was of short
duration. The miller had a huge fire of seeds, above a burning log of
wood, which he had heaped on for the comfort of his guests. When the
dog reached that, he broke into it, appearing to bury himself in the
coil of fiery dust. It flashed upwards in millions of burning atoms,
and in the midst of them up flew the dog out at the top of the lum,
with a tremendous "Bow-wow-wow!"

All was silence for a few seconds, while our yeomen stood in a circle,
with their weapons drawn, and their backs at the wall, gaping with
affright, and staring on one another. "By Saint Thomas, we are
haunted!" cried Dan, breaking silence; "That is the same chap I
forgathered wi' afore in the staircase of the castle, I ken him by his
lowin lungs, though he has changed his shape." He was interrupted by a
loud laugh on the top of the house, and a voice that said, in a
jeering tone, "Ha, ha, ha! Andrew Chisholm is that you? I have found
out a' your plans,--and ride you to Melrose, or ride you to Dryburgh,
I'll be there afore you to lend you a lift. Ay, and I'll keep Aikwood
castle in spite o' you and a' your master's men."

Dan could not contain his indignation on hearing this brag. He ran
forward to the brace, put his neck under it, and turning his nose up
the lum (or rustic chimney) answered, "Deil o' that ye're fit to do,
auld tyke. Ye're but a liar at best and the father o' liars. Gang and
toast heathen bacon in your ain het hame. What seek ye here amang leel
men?"

"Weel answered, and like yoursel, Dan!" said one of the yeomen, and
slapped him on the shoulder, which rousing his spirit still farther,
he added, "Confound you Robin's Geordie o' Feindhope-haugh, what for
didna ye strike when the foul thief set up his gousty gab at your nose
wi' his impudent bow-wow-wow; I see nae right ony o' God's creatures
hae to be hurlbarrowed out o' their standing wi' him."

As he finished the remark, there was something came to the door, and
gave two or three rude impatient scratches, exactly in the same manner
that a strong dog does that wants to be in. This instantly changed the
cheer of our sturdy group, that with one involuntary movement closed
round the hearth, as the point the most distant from the door.

"That's him again," said the miller's lass.

"The Lord forbid," said the miller: "I wonder what multure he wants
frae me. Though I live on the lands of a Master of Arts, I had nae
inkling that I was thirl to hell. Brave lads, can nane of you rhame a
mass, a credo, or a paternoster? He is but a coward at best; I hae
kend a monk, wi' his crosier and his cowl, chace him like a rabbit."

"I fear we'll prove but lame hands at that," said Dan, "and think we
had better sally out on him sword in hand, and see what he can either
say or do for himself. But, Chryste, I needna say that, considering
that I ken sae weel what his lining's made of."

"I hae a cross and chain in the house," said the miller, "that was
consecrated at the shrine of St Bothan; whoever will be our leader
shall bear that before him, and we'll bang the auld thief away frae
our bigging."

The scratching was renewed with redoubled fury. Our yeomen crowded
closer around the fire, till all at once their ears were saluted by a
furious "bow-wow-wow" down the lum, which, in spite of their utmost
resolution, scattered them like a covey of heath-fowl over which the
hawk is hovering, when every one endeavours to shift for itself, and
hide in its own heather bush.

Their faces were by this time flushed with shame as well as fear, that
they should be thus cuffed about by "the auld thief," as they styled
him. Resolved, therefore, to make one great and strenuous effort, the
miller brought out his consecrated cross, some tied sticks, and others
horn spoons across, till all were armed with the same irresistible
symbol, and then they marshalled up before the fire, uncovered their
heads, and with the ensigns reared before them, waited for a moment
the word of command to march out to the grand attack. The arch fiend,
not choosing to wait the issue, raised such a horse laugh on the top
of the lum that their ears were deafened with the noise; and clapping
his paws that sounded like the strokes of battering ram's horns, he
laughed till the upper and nether millstones chattered against each
other, and away he bounded through the clouds of the night, apparently
in an agony of laughter.

"Aha! there he goes!" said Dan: "There's nae guidance to be had o'
him, and as little mense in meddling wi' him."

"Ay, let him e'en gang," said the miller; "he's the warst mouse o' the
mill. Ane had better tine the blind bitch's litter than hae the mill
singed wi' brimstone. I lurd rather deal wi' the thankless maltster,
that neither gi'es coup, neivefu', nor lippie, than wi' him. I have no
part of the breviary but a glorious preamble; kneel till I repeat it."

The troopers kneeled round the miller, who, lifting up his hands,
said, with great fervour, "O semper timidum scelus! Obstupui,
steteruntque comæ et vox faucibus hæsit. O Deus; nusquam tuta fides!
Amen." "Amen!" repeated all the group, and arose greatly strengthened
and encouraged by the miller's _preamble_.

They spent that night around the miller's hearth, and had a cog of
good brose to their supper. The next morning Dan and two associates
rode off for Melrose, to lay their case before the friendly abbot, and
to beg assistance; which, notwithstanding the devil's brag, they were
not afraid of obtaining. But the important events that followed must
be related in course, while we return to those friends in their
elevated confinement, to whom that night the poet related the
following tale.



CHAPTER II.

    _Lord Duf._ Did you not wake them, Cornaro?

      _Cor._ Alas! my lord, I could not.
        Their slumber was so deep, it seemed to me
        A sleep eternal. Not a sleep of death,
        But of extatic silence. Such a beam
        Of joy and happiness I ne'er beheld
        Shed from the human face.

        _The Prioress, a Tragedy._


The Poet's Tale.

Fain would I tell my friends and fellow-sufferers of my translation
hence. Of all the joys and ecstacies of that celestial clime, ycleped
the land of faery; were it not that one is here whose sex forbids it,
and whose gentle nature from such a tale would shrink, as doth the
flower before the nipping gale. You all have heard of that celestial
form, the white lady? And of that wan and beatific presence there
lives in my remembrance some faint image of saintly beauty. But list
to me, my friends, and do not smile, far less break forth with loud
uncourteous neigh, like war horse in the charge,--vile waste of
breath! convulsive, unrestrained. But hear the truth: _It was not she
who bore me from this land_,--not she, _the white lady_, as all
divined. No, it was a form of flesh, and that flesh too of most rare
quality. Fair, witching, plump, rosy and amorous; and of unmarred
proportions. Sooth, she who lured me from my rustic home no other was
than wandering minstreless, queen to the mightiest harper ever born.
Sole empress of a tuneful wayward choir, thoughtless and giddy. But
their music stole my very soul away. What could I do but follow it, to
listen and to sing. In that bright train I sought the Scottish court,
the nobles' hall, and every motely scene of loud festivity throughout
the land. There have I heard and seen such scenes of love, of
dalliance, and of mirth, of deep intrigue and violent cruelty, as eye
of minstrel hath not witnessed. Yes, I have seen things not to be
expressed, at least not here. Therefore I'll change the rule this
night pursued, of saying what myself have seen and done. The fairy
land in which I sojourned was fair Caledon; and there I had my living
minstrel joys in high abundance. But I grieve to say, a fatal brawl
placed all of us within the line to which the sword of vengeance
extends its dreadful sway. Our group dispersed. The soul of melody was
then no more! The sounds of harmony divine were hushed; all scattered
on the winds of other lands, and other climes, to charm with wailing
numbers. Southward I came, amid the border clans to trust my life, men
lawless as myself. They once had saved me when a helpless orphan. Whom
could I better trust? And I have found their generosity alone out-done
by their own courage. For my adventures, let this sketch suffice. And
though not of the fairyland, I will relate a tale, as pure, as
wonderful and full of mystery, as if in other worlds I'd learned it. I
had it from a simple peasant's mouth, an old grey hind upon the Sidley
hills, who vouched its truth. With faltering tongue, and palpitating
heart, for love, for life, and all the soul holds dear, I say my tale.
O be my soul rapt to the estimate at which I hold the prize, and the
divine and holy narrative.

Once on a time, in that sweet northern land called Otholine, the
heathen Hongar landed, and o'er-ran city and dale. The rampart and the
flood in vain withstood his might. Even to the base of the unconquered
Grampians did he wend with fire and sword; and all who would not
kneel, and sacrifice to his strange northern gods, he tortured to the
death. Some few renounced the cross, for sordid life, and dread of
unheard torments. Men were roasted; matrons impaled; and pure
virginity was given up to the rude soldiery to be abused, or humbled
as they termed it. Then were they decked with flowers and ornaments,
led forth in pairs unto the horrid shrine, and sacrificed to Odin.

At that time there lived three beauteous sisters of the line of mighty
kings. They were so passing fair, that all who saw them wondered, and
all who wondered loved. Hongar and Hubba, these two heathen brothers,
and princes of the Danes, heard of their fame, their beauty, and their
excellencies of nature, and sent to seize them in their father's
tower, that in the heights of Stormonth stood secure. The castle was
surprised, the virgins seized, and carried to the camp. There to their
dreadful trial were they brought, and bid to curse the sacred name
they feared and worshipped; to renounce the holy cross, and worship
Odin, or give up their bodies to shame, to ignominy, and to death on
Odin's hideous altar. Marley and Morna both kneeled and intreated,
begged a little time to ponder on the dread alternative. But the young
sprightly Lena, fairest she of Albyn's virgins, browed the invader's
threat with dauntless eye: That eye whose liquid smile in love's sweet
converse had been formed to beam.

"Thou savage heathen!" cried she, "dost thou think to intimidate the
royal maids of Caledon to thy most barbarous faith? Tyrant, thou art
deceived. I dare thine ire. Thou may'st torment me; for I'm in thine
hands, and thy heart ne'er knew pity. Thou may'st tear this tender
fragile form with pincing irons. But my soul's purity thou never
shall subdue by threat, by engine, or by flame. Thee and thy god I
scorn--I curse you both. I lean upon the rock that will not yield; and
put my trust in one whose mighty arm can crush thee mid thy idol to an
atom. I know he'll save me. He will save us all, if we but trust him
without sinful dread. Here, underneath his bleeding cross, I kneel,
and cast myself and my poor sisters here, upon his mercy. Here I make
a vow to stand for him, and for his sacred truth, and for no other.
Now, thou ruthless savage, here I defy thee. Do thy worst to us, and
thou shalt see if Jesus or if Odin shall prevail, and who can best
preserve their worshippers.

The heathen brothers smiled; and Hongar said, "How wildly sweet the
little Christian looks! I make my choice to humble and prepare her for
the base slaves of Odin's warlike halls. Go warriors, lock them up in
donjon deep, until the hour of midnight, when the rites of Odin shall
begin. Then will we send and bring them to the test; and all shall
see whose God is most in might, and who must yield.

In prison dark the virgins were immured, with sevenfold gates and
sevenfold bars shut in. Soon as they were alone, the sisters twain,
Marley and Morna, in fond tears embraced their youngest sister, lauded
her high soul, and vowed with her to stand, with her to die, unsullied
in the faith they had been taught.

Then did they kneel on the cold dungeon floor, and one by one offered
their fervent prayers at mercy's footstool. But chiefly were their
vows made to the Holy Virgin; for they hoped that she would save their
pure virginity from sin's pollution. Never did prayers ascend up to
heaven with greater fervency. And as the hour of midnight on them
drew, they kneeled; and, side by side, with lifted hands, and eyes
turned toward heaven, sang aloud this holy simple hymn to their
Redeemer.

HYMN TO THE REDEEMER.

    SON of the Virgin, hear us! hear us!
    Son of the living God, be near us!
    Thou who art man in form and feature,
    Yet God of glory, and God of nature.
    Thou who led'st the star of the East,
    Yet helpless lay at a Virgin's breast;
    Slept in the manger, and cried on the knee,
    Yet rulest o'er Time and Eternity.
    Pity thy creatures here kneeling in dust;
    Pity the beings in Thee that trust!
      Thou who fed'st the hungry with bread,
    And raised'st from the grave the mouldering dead;
    Who walked'st on the waves of the rolling main,
    Who cried'st to thy Father, and cried'st in vain;
    Yet wept for the woes and the sins of man,
    And prayed'st for them when thy life-blood ran;
    With thy last breath who cried'st FORGIVE!
    When bleeding and dying, that man might live!
    Over death and the grave hast the victory won,
    And now art enthroned by the stars and the sun.
    For thy name's glory, hear us, and come,
    And show thy power over idols dumb.
      O leave the abodes of glory and bliss,
    The realms of heavenly happiness;
    Come swifter than the gale of even
    On thy lightning's wing, the chariot of heaven;
    By the gates of light and the glowing sphere,
    O come on thy errand of mercy here!
      But Lord of glory we know not thee,
        We know not what we say;
      We cannot from thy presence be,
        Nor from thine eye away:
    For though on the right hand of God,
    Thou art here in this dark and drear abode:
    Beyond the moon and the starry way
    Thou holdest thy Almighty sway,
    Where spirits in floods of light are swimming,
    And angels round thy throne are hymning;
    Yet present with all who call on thee
    In this world of wo and adversity.
      Then, O, thou Son of the Virgin, hear us!
    God of love and of life be near us!
    Our hour of trial is at hand,
    And without thy aid how shall we stand?
    Our stains wash out, our sins forgive;
    And before thee may our spirits live.
    For thee and thy truth be our bosoms steeled:
    O be our help, our stay, our shield:
    Show thy dread power for mercy's sake,
    For thy name, and thy glory, and all is at stake;
    Bow down thy heavens, and rend them asunder,
    And come in the cloud, in the flame, or the thunder.

The trumpets now were sounding, while the host arose from wine and
wassail, to prepare the baleful sacrifice of Christian souls. The
virgins heard, and trembled as they kneeled; and beauteous Lena
raised her slender hands, and prayed, with many tears, that the
Almighty would stretch out his right hand and close their eyes in
everlasting sleep, to save them from self-slaughter, or the fate they
dreaded more.

While yet the words were but in utterance, and ere the vow was vowed,
they heard the gates unbarred one after one, and saw the lights glance
through the lurid gloom. Each youthful heart turned, as it were, to
stone; for well they weened the Danish soldiers came to bring them
forth to shame and death. They kept their humble posture, with hands
and eyes upraised, for they expected no pity or compassion save from
heaven.

The inmost door upon its hinges turned, like thunder out of tune; and,
lo! there entered,--no heathen soldier,--but a radiant form covered
with light as with a flowing robe. In his right hand he bore a golden
rod, and in his left a lamp that shone as bright as the noon-day sun.
A thousand thousand gems, from off his raiment, cast their dazzling
lustre. Diamonds and rubies formed alternate stars, while all between
was rayed and spangled o'er with ever-varying brightness. Round his
head he wore a wreath of emeralds; these were set with never-fading
green. They deemed he was the great high priest of Odin come to lead
them to the sacrifice. But yet his look, so mild and so benign, raised
half a hope within their breasts of pity and regard. They were about
to plead; but ere a sound breathed from their lips, the stranger
beckoned them to silence. Then, in mild and courteous strain, in their
own tongue, he thus accosted them:

"To ONE already have your vows been framed; and would you bow to
another? You have pleaded to heaven's high King; and would you plead
to man? Rise up, and follow me." The virgins rose; they had not power
to stay,--and followed him, alas! they knew not whither. They had no
voice to question or complain. Door after door they passed; gate after
gate; and still their guide touching them with his golden rod, they
closed in jangling fury. Onward still they moved, and met the heathen
bands, led by their chiefs, Hongar and Hubba. They were drunk with
wine; and loudly did they halloo when they saw their prey escaped, and
walking on the street all beauteous and serene: Closing around the
fugitives, and jabbering uncouth terms and words obscene, the chiefs
opened their arms to seize the helpless three. Just then their guide
turned round unmoved, and waving his bright rod, the heathens
staggered, uttered mumbling sounds, and, trying vainly to support
themselves, reeling they sunk enfeebled to the earth, where all as
still and motionless they lay as piles of lifeless corpses. How the
virgins wondered at what they saw! and fearless now they followed
their bright leader. Next they met the priests of Odin, in their wild
attire, marching in grand procession to the scene of mighty sacrifice.
Aloft they bore their hideous giant idol; by his sides his loathsome
consort and his monster son, Freya and Thor, while all their followers
sung this choral hymn in loud and warlike strains:

HYMN TO ODIN.

    I.

        HE comes! he comes!
        Great Odin comes!
    Who can rise or stand before him?
        The god of the bloody field,
        The sword, and the ruddy shield;
    The god of the Danes, let all adore him.

    II.

        Wake the glad measure to
        The goddess of pleasure too,
    Who fills every hero with joy and with love!
        And hail to dread Thor,
          Great son of great sire,
        The quaffer of gore,
          And the dweller in fire:
    The god of the sun, and the lightnings above.

    III.

        Prepare! prepare!
        The feast prepare,
    Since mighty Thor our guest shall be:
        Three times three,
        And three times three,
    This day shall bleed for repast to thee!

    IV.

        Strike the light,
        Make the flame burn bright,
    Since Freya is here who gives delight!
        Three times three,
        And nine times nine,
    This day shall bleed on altar of thine.

    V.

        Shout and sing,
        Till the mountains ring!
    The father of men, and of gods the king!
        See him advance
        With sword and lance;
    Billows of life-blood, heroes, bring!

    VI.

        God of Alhallah's dome!
        God of the warrior's home!
    Who can withstand thee in earth or heaven?
        Bring to his altar then,
        Of Christian dames and men,
    Nine times nine, and seven times seven.

    VII.

        Bend to your place of birth,
        Children of sordid earth;
    The god of battles your homage disdains.
        Who dare oppose him?
        Christian or Moslem?
    Who is like Odin, the god of the Danes?

The maids and their angelic guide went on following the cross; and as
they went, they sung in sweet and humble aspirations the song of the
Lamb. They met the gorgeous files. Fair met with fair. The hideous
idols sat an hundred cubits high; whereas the cross a maiden's hand
upbore. But when they met, the proud and mighty peal, swelling from
Odin's worshippers, was hushed as with a sob. The hills rang with the
sound; and the o'erburdened air bore the last knell up to the skies.
It quavered through the spheres, and died in distance, to be heard no
more, while nought but the sweet notes the virgins sung rose on the
paths of night. The motely mass of heathens stood amazed, and as they
stood they listened and they quaked. The words were these at which
they paused, and which the virgins sung:

           *       *       *       *       *

    Silence the blasphemers thee that defy,
    Strike down the mighty, Son of the Most High;
    Rise in thy power, that the heathen may see,
    What dust are their gods and their glory to thee;
    Raise thy right hand, and in pieces them shiver,
    That to the true God may the praise be for ever.

At every line the bearers and their gods trembled the more, and as the
last notes closed, the mighty Odin toppled from his throne, and
crashed amid his powerless worshippers. His wooden spouse and son fell
with the sire of Gods and men, and in a thousand pieces their gilded
frames were dashed. Confusion reigned. The host fled in dismay; but
Odin's priests sunk down in low prostration, groaning and howling for
the fall of Odin,--the shield and glory of the Danish host.

From out this wild confusion the bright guide conducted the three
virgins, to a cave close by the river's brink, and charged them hide
until the wrath of the enraged foe should be abated. Here, said he,
you are in perfect safety. No one living knows of this retreat. Here
sleep and take your rest. May angels watch around your flinty couch.
Farewell, I must begone on the employ assigned me by your father and
by mine. He left the lamp and went his way. Forthwith they kneeled in
prayer, thanking their Saviour for their great deliverance, then laid
them down to rest. They kissed the cross, and folded closely in each
other's arms, cheek leaning unto cheek, with holy hymns they sung
themselves asleep.

Great was the rage among the Danish chiefs, and wide the search for
these presumptuous and bold aggressors. The host was all discouraged
and amazed, and nought but terror reigned. Earldoms were offered for
the audacious maids, dead or alive. But nor alive nor dead could they
be found, either by friend or foe. O dreadful were the execrations
uttered by the Danes. They called them demons, witches, and the worst
of all incendiaries. Well they might. The terror of their arms was
broken. Great was the rejoicing mid the hills and glens of Albyn, but
the eastern vallies groaned beneath the fury of the savage Dane, and
Christian blood was shed on every cross.

The virgins waked at morn, and still the lamp sent forth its feeble
glimmer through the cave. The day-beam through the crevice of the rock
streamed in and mixed with it. The virgins strove to rise, to
speak--to sing a morning hymn. But all their limbs were cold, and
their tongues clove fast to their thirsty palates. Lena, first of all
the three, upraised her pallid form, and on the lamp turning her
drowsy eye, there did it settle, closed, and oped again, but still
with faded and uncertain light, as if the mind were lacking. Long she
sat, half raised in this uneasy torpid state,--this struggle 'twixt
oblivion and life. Oft she assayed her sisters to awake, by naming
them; but still as oft the names died in a whisper. By degrees her
mind dawned into recollection, as the moon breaks o'er the sullen
twilight. Then the wonders, that she had seen o'ernight, aroused her
soul to all its wonted energy. She kneeled, and thanked her Maker for
the great deliverance to them vouchsafed. And when her sisters woke,
they woke to join her in a heavenly song.

"What ails our sister? Here we are in safety. Why does our dear
beloved not rest in peace? The night is not far spent: the dawn of
morn is yet far distant. O dear Lena sleep. Sleep on, and take your
rest. The morning sun is yet beneath the deep. Our limbs are cold; our
eyes are heavy; yet we cannot rise, for we are weary, and not half
awake."

"Wake, my beloved sisters. It is time. The noon is at its height. See
how the sun peeps through the granite cliffs, and on the stream sheds
ray of trembling silver. Let us rise and talk of all the wonders we
have seen."

Long they conversed in tears of gratitude, still peeping from
their cavern, lest the Dane again should find and drag them to
the altar. Sore were they pressed by hunger. From the stream they drank
abundantly with thankful hearts. But food for many a day and many a
night they scarce had tasted, and they longed for it with more than
ordinary longing. Night approached; and there they sat, not knowing
what to do, a prey to gnawing hunger. At the last, young Lena said, "I
cannot ween that heaven hath wrought a miracle for our relief, and for
no higher purpose than that we should be left to die of hunger in this
dark and hideous den. Again I'll put my life into its hand, and go
into the city after twilight in search of bread; and if I die I die:
Heaven's will be done." Her sisters looked at her, and blessed her in
the holy Virgin's name. They could not bid her go where danger waited,
so great, so imminent; and yet they felt they could not press her
stay. With cautious eye, and with enfeebled step, trembling she sought
the city gate. But when, afar, she saw by torch-light porters striding
to and fro, with glittering lances of enormous length, and ponderous
battle axes, her heart failed, and she drew back. But then she thought
again of those she left behind, and all the throes of perishing
with hunger, and resolved to risk all hazards. The huge gate stood
open, and strangers went and came. "I'll join," thought she, "this
straggling crew, and enter among them; they speak my native tongue.
Ah! they must be a band of traitorous base renegades, that have
renounced the cross and joined the Dane; else wherefore free to go and
come and trade? I'm all unsafe with such. The strangers eyed her with
most curious and piercing looks, and whispered as they went. They
seemed afraid, and shunned her by the way, as they who shun a being
infected by the pestilence, or spirit from the dead. No one addressed
a word to her, but hurried to the gate.

She came alone, for feeble was her step, and her breast palpitating as
with throb of burning fever, hopeless of admission.

The porters stared with wide extended gaze, and eyes protruding; but
no word they spoke, nor crossed their lances. Straight she entered
in. "What can this mean?" thought she; "There is a change since
yester-even that it passes thought to comprehend. These keepers are
not Danes; I heard them speak in Albyn's ancient tongue; and yet
methinks they wear the Danish garb. How's this? that I am free to come
and go, as in my childhood, when the land was free?"

She passed the sacred fane, and there beheld crowds entering in; but
fast she sped away, weening they went to Odin's cursed rites.

She went to those that sold, and asked for bread. The woman stared at
her with silent gaze. She asked again, and straight the huckster fled
in floundering haste. Poor Lena stood amazed. "How's this?" said she,
"where'er I show my face the people shun me. Here I shall remain, for
I am faint with hunger, till I taste some of these cakes, which I can
well repay."

She stood not long until she was accosted by holy bedesman, who, with
cautious step, and looks of terror, entered, fast repeating his _Ave
Maria_. "In the Virgin's name," cried he, "and under sanction of this
cross, I charge thee tell who or from whence thou art."

The virgin kneeled, and kissed the holy symbol, but waived direct
reply. "I lack some bread to give to those that famish, and I'll pay
for that which I receive," was her reply.

"Then 'tis the bread of life that thou dost lack; man's natural food I
fear thou can'st not use, for thou art not a being of this world, but
savour'st of the grave. Thy robes are mouldy, and fall from off thy
frame? Thy lips are parched and colourless. These eyes have not the
light of human life. Thou ominous visitant, declare from whence thou
art, and on what mission thou com'st to this devoted wasted land?"

Lena looked up. The holy father's face to her appeared familiar. But
how great the change since last she saw it. "Father Brand, dost thou
not know me?" was her home reply.

With blenching cheek and with unstable eye the father gazed, and,
faultering, stammered forth, "No. Jesu Maria, be thy servant's shield!
Yes. Now I know thee. Art thou not the spirit of the hapless Ellamere,
who was put down within our convent for a wilful breach of its most
sacred law? Avaunt! Begone! Nor come thou here t' accuse those that
grieved for thee, while they executed just vengeance on thy life.
Injurious ghost! Thy curses have fallen heavy on our heads, and
brought the wrath of heaven upon our land in tenfold measure. In the
Saviour's name, whose delegate I am, I charge thee hence unto thy
resting-place,--to that award that heaven's strict justice hath
ordained for thee; and come not, with that pale and withering look,
more curses and more judgments to pronounce."

"Reach me thine hand," said she, and held her's forth, meaning to work
conviction on his mind that she was flesh and blood. Her arm was wan
as death itself, emaciated and withered, and furred with lines, livid
and colourless, as by corrodent vapours of the grave. The monk
withdrew his hand within his frock, shook his grey locks, and, with
slow palsied step, moved backward till the threshold stone he gained;
then turned and fled amain. The household dame fled also from her
inner door, from which she peered and listened, and the wondering
virgin again was left alone. She waited there in wild and dumb
incertitude a space; then took some bread, some fruits, and baken
meat, laid some money down as an equivalent, and went away to seek her
dark retreat.

But as she passed the fane, with wary step she ventured to the porch,
and, marvelling, heard the whole assembly, joined in rapt devotion,
praising the name of Jesus. Close she stood, and, darkling as it was,
joined in the choir so much beloved. But all the wonders she so late
had seen yielded to this. In one short night, one strange eventful
night, such things were done as human intellect, with all its
cunning, could not calculate.

She passed the gate. The gaping sentinels stood, as they did before,
immoveable, each casting sidelong glances unto his mate, to note who
first should fly or call the word. She beckoned them as with intent to
speak; but in one moment porters, spears, and axes scattered and
vanished in the darksome shade.

Reaching the cave, she found the lamp gone out that their mysterious
deliverer had left them over night. First she regaled her sisters'
hearts with the miraculous tidings that all the people worshipped
Jesus' name without dismay or molestation, who, but the night before,
not for their lives durst have acknowledged him: That all seemed free
to go and come, and pray to whom they listed. The tale seemed a
romance,--a dream of wild delirium. The Danes could not be banished in
a night, and all the land cleared of the vile idolatry of Odin. They
disbelieved the whole, as well they might, but held their peace,
dreading their sister's mind mazed in derangement. Still, as she went
on, saying that all whom she had met or seen supposed her one arisen
from the dead, or ghost of some departed criminal, strangled for
breach of a monastic vow, then did they grasp each other's hands, and
weep for their dear sister's sad mishap. They deemed her mad as raving
whirlwind, or the music of mountain cataract. Yet she had brought them
food of various sorts, which in the dark she gave them; and they fed,
or strove to feed,--but small indeed the portion they devoured.

"How's this," cried Morna, "that my little cake grows ne'er the less?
Can it be so that we are truly spirits,--ghosts of the three maids
that overthrew the Danish god last night? I hunger and I thirst, 'tis
true. Tell me, Can spirits drink the element of water? Certes they
may. But then, how did we die, or when? for I cannot remember me of
passing death's hideous and dreary bourn, though something of a weary
painful dream hangs round my heart."

This vague disjointed speech, the wayward visions of distemperature,
struck the two others motionless, and set them on cogitations
wandering and wild as meteors o'er a dreary wilderness. The thought of
being in a new existence, with all its unknown trials, powers, and
limits, their struggling minds essayed in vain to grasp.

Reason returned, but as a step-mother returns to frenzied orphan's dying
bed. They felt each other's pulses. There was life,--corporeal life;
but still there was a change, which no one chose to mention,--yet a
change quite unaccountable for one night's sleep to have effected.
From their cavern's porch they viewed the stars of heaven. They were
the same as they were wont. They saw the golden wain, the polar
plough tilling his ample field with slow unwearied furrow, and the
sisters,--the seven lovely sisters of the sky, arching their gorgeous
path. Far to the east they spied a star beloved, which in their
childhood they oft had watched, and named the "tiger's eye," changing
its vivid colours as of yore. And then they wept to think of former
days of innocence and joy. And thus in tears, clasped in each other's
arms, they laid them down their mazed and oppressed spirits to
compose.

While thus they lay, romantic Morna said: "My sisters, it is evident
to all that some great change has happed to us last night. We are not
what we were. What can it be but change from one existence to another?
A mortal creature cannot touch or feel a disembodied spirit; but we
know not how spirits feel each other. Sure as life and death hold
opposition in this world, from the one into the other we have passed.
I feel it in my being. So do you, though unacknowledged. Let us rise
and walk as spirits do by night, and we shall see the change in us,
not over a whole land in one short night. Come, let us roam abroad.
I feel a restlessness,--a strong desire to flit from place to
place,--perchance to fly between the mountain and the cloud, and view
the abodes of those we love.

This wild romance waked in the virgins' hearts an energy between
despair and madness. All extremes erratic and unnatural, on the minds
of females, act like the infection of virulent disease. Up they arose,
and, stepping from their cavern, took their way along the river's
brink. Midnight was past. The tiger's eye had climbed the marble path
that branches through the heaven, and goggled forth, now red, now
blue, now purple and now green, down from his splendid ceiling far on
high. 'Twas like a changeful spirit. In the east the hues of morning
rose in towering streaks, as if the Almighty had caused light to grow
like cedars from the summits of the hills. It was a scene for spirits!
There were three abroad that morn before the twilight rose,--three
creatures spiritual, yet made of flesh! First they espied an aged
fisherman, who passed without regard. Then did they deem they were
invisible, and wilder still their fancies worked. The suburbs now they
gained of the resplendent ancient Otholine, the emporium of the east,
and hand in hand, with hurried, but enfeebled step, they trode its
lanes and alleys. Those who saw them said their motions were erratic,
like the gait of beings overcome with wine, or creatures learning to
walk for the first time on earth. The early matron, and the twilight
groom, fled with hysteric cries at their approach. The gates were left
a-jar, the streets a waste: porter and sentinel joined in the flight,
and nought but terror and confusion reigned.

The virgin sisters wist not what to do, or what to dread. Within the
convent's porch, they halted, turned, and gazed on one another, and
wondered what they were, that nature thus shuddered at their approach,
and held aloof. Three creatures spiritual yet made of flesh, belonging
not to heaven nor earth! but shunned by the inhabitants of both. Just
then, while standing in despondency, they heard the grey cock crow;
the eldritch clarion note chilled every heart, and twanged on every
nerve.

"That is our warning call," wild Morna said: "My sisters now we must
hence and begone: that is the roll-call of the murdering spirits. We
shall be missed at matins. To your homes! your damp and mouldering
homes, ye ghastly shades! The daylight will dissolve you! Does that
voice not say so?"

"Hush thee, gentle Morna! drive us not to distraction. Here we'll wait
until the convent matin; then we'll ask the holy prioress what things
we are. What say you, gentle sisters? can we live outcasts on earth in
such incertitude? Our father's towers are distant. We can glide,
like passing shades with slow and feeble motion, but nothing more
spirits;--can sail the air in skiff of mist or on the breeze's wing.
Such powers we have not; and to journey there we lack ability. Here
then we stay until we are resolved what strange events have happened
to us, to our native land, and church, of late so grievously
oppressed."

"Yes, here we'll stay. Come, rouse the porteress! For see the sun tips
the far hills with gold, and we shall melt before his tepid ray, all
gentle as it is at early morn! My frame is like a mildew. The hoar
frost of death hath fallen on it. Oh, for the guide--the angelic
youth that left us yester-eve. Ho! daughters of the Cross! If any here
hath 'scaped the murderous Dane, come forth and welcome the conquerors
of Odin. Ho! within! Wake ere the sun upbraids you. He is up, on
service to his Maker, yet you sleep. I say, wake."

"Who calls? What are you there?"

"We know not what we are. For that we come, to see if any here can us
resolve. But two short nights ago, we were three maids of royal
lineage. Thou stern porteress, come forth and look on us. Canst thou
not tell what we are made of? Why stand'st thou aloof?"

"Speak calmly, sister Morna. See she trembles and dares not answer.
Gentle dame, we pray admission to your lady prioress, for sake of him
who died upon the cross, whose name we worship." Straight she vanished
upon her fearful mission, glad to 'scape from such a colloquy. Soon
then arrived the aged prioress, who them approached with dauntless
countenance, and, unappalled, asked of their errand. "Venerable dame,
dost thou not know, or hast thou never heard of the three maids of
Stormont, who of late, led by a heavenly messenger, o'erthrew the god
of Denmark, and upheld the cross triumphant o'er the breasts of
prostrate heathens?"

"Ay, I have heard of them; and often joined in prayer and thanksgiving
for the deliverance wrought by these royal virgins. That was a
conquest that roused the spirit of the Christian to deeds of more than
mortal energy, and humbled the proud confidence the Dane placed in his
idols. Ay, that was a conquest shall cloud the brow of the idolater
while the world stands! But what was it you spoke of yester eve?
Either you are deranged, or shallow poor impostors: for that time hath
long gone past, and the three wondrous maids were in the sight, and
from the middle of that mighty host translated into heaven. Unless you
came from thence on sacred mission, and bringest evidence of identity
by further miracle, better you had keep silence and depart."

"We are those maids, the maids of Stormont, nieces to the king; and
we require of you lodging and fair protection, till we prove our
lineage. There is something passing strange hath happed to us. But
what the circumstance, or how accordant with the works of God, is far
beyond the fathom and the height of our capacity. We are the maids of
Stormont. To that truth we will make oath upon the holy cross."

The prioress crossed herself, commended her to heaven, and, with deep
awe and dire astonishment, admitted them. She gazed upon them: their
fair cheeks were pale, and their benignant eyes looked through a haze
that was not earthly; it was like the blue mists of the dawning. All
their robes were of the fashion of a former day; and they were damp
and mouldy, falling piecemeal from off their bodies with their
rottenness.

"I dread to question you, mysterious things. That you are earthly
forms, I see and feel. Whence are you? In what dreary unknown clime
have you been sojourning? Or are you risen from out your graves? If
you have truth in you, and power to tell it, pray resolve me this; for
I am lost in wonder."

"What we are we know not. For that purpose we came hither, that you
might tell us. All we know is this: Last night but one we were the
maids of Stormont, doomed to a dreadful fate. An heavenly one came to
our rescue; led us through the gates of iron and of brass. Still as we
went, we conquered. Ranks of proud idolaters fell prostrate in the
dust; and the great god, the mighty Odin, was o'erthrown, and dashed
into a thousand pieces. Straight our blessed guide conducted us into a
lonely cave close by the river's brink, and bade us sleep and take our
rest until the day should dawn and shadows fly away. We slept, and
yester-morn, when we awoke, the lamp our guide had left still feebly
burned. Impelled by hunger, from our cave we ventured. All people fly
from us; the Danes are gone; the name of Christ is mentioned. Nought
we see and nought we hear is comprehensible."

"A miracle! a mighty miracle! Within that secret cavern you have slept
for days and years, in quiet sweet repose, the lamp of heaven still
burning over you, until the day hath dawned,--such day of grace as
Scotland hath not seen. The heathen Dane, with all his hideous gods,
was vanquished, but days of darkness and contention rose, until this
time, when all the glorious rays of mercy and of grace have shed their
influence on this benighted persecuted land; and you are waked to
enjoy it. Let us go straight to the altar, and beneath the cross join
in elated thanksgiving."

The chancel door opened before the altar. When the three virgins
entered in, and saw the figure on the cross, they cried aloud with one
combined voice, "'Tis he, 'Tis he! What? Have these heathens dared to
lay their impious hands on him? 'Tis he! 'Tis he! Our heavenly guide
that saved us from the death. And have they slain him? Has the cursed
Dane----"

"Hold, hold, for mercy's sake; you do not know the things you utter.
What you look upon, hangs there to represent the death of him who
died that man might live."

"And is it so? Then be our lives sacred unto the service of him who
laid his life down for our race, and sent his angel to deliver us,
in his own likeness too; for this is he who came to us in great
extremity, when we called on the name of our Redeemer in agony of
soul."

"Remain with me till our great festival. This miracle must be made
known to all that trust in Jesus' name. Meanwhile I will cherish and
comfort the beloved of heaven."

The day arrived of the great festival, the anniversary of the
overthrow of mighty Odin,--that sublime event that broke the bands of
iron and of steel, and threw the gates of superstition open to Albyn's
Christian triumph. On that day the king's whole household, nobles of
the realm, high dames and commons, abbots, monks, and mendicants, a
motely and a countless multitude, assembled early at the monastery of
ancient Otholine, to render thanks for their deliverance. Masses were
said; and holy hymns of praise ascended to the skies. With one accord,
then all the grateful multitude agreed to canonize the three heroic
virgins, who, with the aid of angels, had wrought out the Christian's
triumph, the beloved of heaven, translated to the blest beatitude,
where souls of saints and blessed martyrs dwell, and whose joint
prayers might with the holy Virgin much avail.

A joyful clamour for the ordinance then spread around, so eager were
the crowd to kneel and pay their humble adorations to the three maids,
translated to the heavens with bodies like their own. Applauses rang;
and from behind the altar was given forth a song divine, in which a
thousand voices joined, till all were hushed at this ecstatic strain.

    Hail to the happy three!
    Vessels of sanctity!
    Now honoured to stand
    At the Virgin's right hand.
      (Mater Dei!
      Remember me!)
    Remember us all, and send us for good,
    Bone of our bone, and blood of our blood.--
      Song of harp, and voice be dumb!--
    The heaven is oped. They come, they come!

A bustle rose. The abbot on his knees sunk down and leaned upon the
altar-cloth, and only a few voices whispered round, "They come, they
come!" The congregation turned their eyes into the chancel, and beheld
three virgins, all in robes of purest white, stand over against the
altar. The loud choir was hushed, and every brow was forward bent in
low obeisance: All believing these three beauteous flowers from
paradise had come arrayed in robes of heaven, with angel forms that
bloomed like winter roses newly oped, in high approval of the
festival, and sacred honours to be paid to them.

The virgins beckoned, raised their flowing veils, and their right
hands to heaven. "Stay, they cried, stay the solemnity, ere you
profane the name and altar of the God of heaven. Here stand the three
unworthy maids of Stormont whom you would deify. Come nigh to us our
father and our king, and ye chaste ministers of him we serve: Come
nigh, and feel that we are mortal like yourselves, and stop the rite.
Pay adoration to that Holy One who pitied us in misery extreme, and
you in grievous bonds. There be your vows and worship paid, in which
we three shall join. He hath indeed done wondrous things for us, works
of amazement, which you all shall hear, and whoso heareth shall
rejoice in heart."

Then came they all unto their father's knee, kneeled and embraced him,
while the good old earl shed tears of joy, and rendered thanks to
heaven; their sovereign next, their former lovers, friends, and all
they knew in that mixed multitude, they did embrace, that no remaining
doubt might spring and spread of their identity. It was a joyful
meeting, such a one as hath not been in any land for happiness and
holy ecstacy. They lived beyond the years of women,--but their lives
were spent in acts of holiness, apart from grandeur's train. In curing
of the sick, clothing the naked, ministering to all in want and
wretchedness, and speaking peace unto poor wandering and benighted
souls. Their evening of life was like the close of summer day, pure,
placid, and serene,--the twilight long, but when at last it closed, it
was with such a heavenly glow, it gave pure prospect of a joyous day
to come. Thus ends my legend; and, with all submission, I bow to your
awards, and wait my doom.



CHAP. III.

    _Garolde._ Prick on good Markham. That galled jade of yours
              Moves with a hedgehog's pace. Is this a time
              To amble like a belle at tournament,
              When life and death hang on our enterprize?

      _Mark._ We've had long stages, Garolde;
              We must take up. What miscreants have we here?

        _The Prioress._


"Lo, have not I taken great delight in the words of thy mouth?" said
the friar, "for it is a legend of purity and holiness which thou hast
told, and the words of truth are contained in it. Peradventure it may
be an ancient allegory of our nation, in which manner of instruction
the fathers of Christianity amongst us took great delight. But,
whether it be truth, or whether it be fiction, the tendency is good;
and behold, is it not so; do not I even thank thee for thy tale?"

"It is the most diffuse, extravagant, and silly legend that ever was
invented by votary of a silly and inconsistent creed," said the
Master.

"I side wi' you, Master Michael Scott," said Tam Craik; "I think the
tale is nought but a string of bombastical nonsense."

"Excepting ane about fat flesh, I think I never heard the match o't,"
said the laird of the Peatstacknowe; "It brings me a-mind o' our
host's dinner, that was a' show but nae substance."

"If I foresee aught aright," said the Master, "of many a worse dinner
shall I see thee partake, and enjoy the sight."

"Was not that a beautiful and sublime tale, father?" said Delany: "I
could sit and listen to such divine legends for ever." The poet's eyes
shone with tears when he heard the maid he loved say these words to
the friar apart, who answered and said unto her, "Lo, there are many
more sublime and more wonderful in thy little book; nevertheless
the tale is good for instruction to those that are faithless and
doubting."

"Alak! I fear I shall not live to learn and enjoy these. Do not you
think, father, that we shall all perish in this miserable place,"
added Delany,--"this horrible place of witchcraft and divination?"
Charlie Scott stepped forward when he overheard some of these words.
"Eh? what was the lassie saying?" said he. "Eh? I'll tell ye what it
is, hinney: I believe ye see things as they are. There's naething but
witchcraft gaun on here; and it is that, and that alone, that a' our
perils and mischances rise frae. Begging your pardon, father, I canna
help thinking what I think, and seeing what I see. But, gude faith! we
maun blaw lown till we win aff the tap o' this bigging, if that ever
be."

"My hand hath prevailed against his hand," said the friar, "and my
master over his master; and had it not been for this miserable
accident we should have had nothing to fear from his divinations,
sublime and mighty as they are. What hath become of the mighty men of
valour from the camp of our captain?"

"O there's nae mortal can tell," said Charlie: "It was not for
naething that Dan and his lads ran off and left us without ever
looking ower their shoulders. A' witchcraft! a' witchcraft! Ane may
stand against muckle, but nae man can stand against that. I wish we
were where sword and shield could aince mair stand us in stead. But
this I'm sure o'--Now that our situation is kend to our kinsman, it
winna be lang before some aid appear. O if it wad but come afore we
are driven to that last and warst of a' shifts to keep in life."

"We canna live another day," said Tam: "I therefore propose that the
maid and the boy try ilk ane their hand at a tale too, and stand their
chances with the rest of us. Their lives are of less value, and their
bodies very tender and delicate."

Every one protested against Tam's motion with abhorrence; and it was
agreed that they would now appeal to the Master who had told the
worst tale. Not that the unfortunate victim was to be immediately
sacrificed, nor even till the very last extremity; but with that
impatience natural to man, they longed to be put out of pain; every
one having hopes that his own merits protected himself from danger.
Every one also believed that judgment would be given against Tam,
except he himself; and that, at all events, such an award would put an
end to his disagreeable and endless exultations of voracious delight.
They then went before the renowned wizard, and desired him to give
judgment who of them had related the worst and most inefficient tale,
laying all prejudice with regard to creeds and testimonies aside.

He asked them if they referred the matter entirely to him, or if they
wished to have each one a vote of their own? Tam said it was an
understanding at first that each should have a vote, and, as he had
made up his mind on the subject, he wished to give his. Charlie said
it was a hard matter to vote away the life of a friend; and, for his
part, he would rather appeal to the great Master altogether. But if
any doubts should remain with any one of their host's impartiality, he
thought it fairer that they should cast lots, and hazard all alike.
The poet, who had heard the Master's disapprobation given pointedly of
his tale, sided with Yardbire, and voted that it should be decided by
lot. Gibbie, though quite convinced in his own mind that he had told
the best story, yet having heard the _morality_ of it doubted, and
dreading on that score to have some voices against him, called also
for a vote; for he said the referring the matter to the Master brought
him in mind of the story of the fox sitting in judgment, and deciding
against the lamb. The friar also said, "Verily, I should give my voice
for the judgment of the Master to stand decisive: But, lo! is it not
apparent that his thoughts are not like the thoughts of other men?
Neither is his mind governed by the motives of the rest of the
children of men. I do therefore lift up my voice for the judgment that
goeth by lot. I would, notwithstanding of all this, gladly hear what
the Master would say."

"I will be so far just that I shall give you your choice," said Master
Michael Scott: "Nevertheless I can tell you, if there be any justice
in the decision by lot, on whom the lot will fall." A pause of
breathless anxiety occurred, and every eye was fixed on the grim and
stern visage of the great necromancer, over whose features there
appeared to pass a gleam of wild delight. "It will fall," added he,
"on that man of fables and similitudes, who himself bears the
similitude of a man, just as the lion's hide stuffed does the
resemblance of a real one. How do you call that beautiful and amiable
being with the nose that would split a drop of rain without being
wet?"

"Most illustrious knight, and master of the arts of mystery," said the
friar,--"as this man is, so is his name; for he is called Jordan,
after the great river that is in the east, which overfloweth its banks
at certain seasons, and falls into the stagnant lake called the Dead
Sea, whose waters are diseased. So doth the matter of this our friend
overflow, pass away, and is lost. But what sayest thou of the default
of his story? Dost thou remember that it is not for the best story
that we cast lots, but the worst?"

"Ay, that's weel said, good friar," said Charlie; "for, trifling as
the laird's story was, I never heard ought sae queer, or that
interested ane mair. If there be ony justice in lots, the laird's
safe."

"Your's was the best tale, gallant yeoman," said the Master, "and you
may rest assured that you are safe. The dumb judge will not err, and
there is one overlooks the judgment by lot, of whom few are aware. I
say your's was the best tale.

"Thank ye kindly, Master Michael Scott," said Charlie; "I'm feared ilk
ane winna be o' your opinion."

The friar then took from the side-pockets of his frock a few scraps
of parchment, amounting to fifteen. Twelve of these he marked with
a red cross, and three with a black one, to prevent all infernal
interference; then rolling them closely up, he counted them all into
his cowl before his companions, and, shaking them together, he caused
every one to do the same. Then putting the cowl into the virgin's
hand, they desired her to hold it until they drew forth their scraps
one by one. She did so, while her bright eyes were drowned in tears,
and each of the candidates put in his hand, selecting his lot.

"Let them be opened, one by one, before all these witnesses," cried
the Master; "that no suspicions of foul play whatever may remain."

The friar drew forth his without one muscle of his unyielding features
being altered, and turning deliberately about, he opened it before
them all. It was red. The friar bowed his head, and made the sign of
the cross. Charlie thrust in his hand,--pulled out a ticket,--and tore
it open, all in one moment, and with the same impatience that he
fought in a battle. His was likewise red.

"Gude faith I'm aince ower the water," said Charlie.

Tam put in his hand with a decision that would have done honour to a
better man, the form of his mouth only being a little altered.

"Now, who will take me a bet of a three-year old cout," cried Gibbie,
"that the next shall turn out a black one?" and he grinned a ghastly
smile, in anticipation of the wished event. Tam kept his hand within
the cowl for a good while, as if groping which to select. At length he
drew one forth; and before he got it opened, Gibbie's long nose and
his own had met above it, so eager was each of them to see what it
contained. It was opened. Each of them raised up his face, and looked
at the face of his opponent; but with what different expressions
of countenance! The cross on the lot was red! Grief, dread, and
disappointment were all apparent in the features of poor Jordan, while
the exulting looks of his provoking neighbour were hardly to be
endured.

"What think you o' that now, laird?" cried he. "What does that bring
you in mind o'? Eh? I say, wha's jugular vein swells highest now; or
wha's shoulder-blade stands maist need o' clawing?"

This was rather more than Gibbie was disposed at that juncture to
bear; and when Tam, as he concluded, put forth his forefinger to
ascertain the thickness of fat on the laird's ribs, the latter struck
him with such force on the wrist, that he rendered his arm powerless
for a space. He put his hand to his sword, but could not grasp it;
while Gibbie, seeing the motion, had his out in a twinkling; and if
the staunch friar had not turned it aside, he would have had it
through the heart of the deil's Tam in a second, which might have
prevented the further drawing of lots for that present time, and
thereby put an end to a very critical and disagreeable business.
Gibbie was far from being a hot or passionate man; but whether his
rage was a manoere to put by the decision, or if he really was
offended at being handled like a wedder for slaughter, the curate
pretends not to guess. He however raged and fumed exceedingly, and
tried again and again to wound Tam, while the rest were remonstrating
with him; nor would he be pacified, until Tam's disabled arm by
degrees regaining somewhat of its pristine nerve, he retreated back
towards the battlement for sword-room, and dared the laird to the
combat. Gibbie struggled hard; but finding that they were about to
let him go, his wrath subsided a little; he put up his sword, and said
the whole business reminded him of a story of the laird of Tweelsdon
and his two brothers, which he assured them was a prime story, and
begged permission to tell it. This was protested against with one
voice until the business of the lots was decided, and then all were
willing to hear it. "Oh, the lots? that is quite true," said Gibbie:
"I declare that business had gone out of my head. Let us see what
casts up next." There was a relaxation in every muscle of Gibbie's
face as he put his hand into the cowl. But Gibbie's was a sort of a
cross face. It did not grow long and sallow as most other men's faces
do when they are agitated. The jaws did not fall down, they closed up;
so that his face grew a great deal shorter and broader. The eye-brows
and the cheek-bones met, and the nose and chin approached to a close
vicinity. He drew forth the momentous scrap, and, with fumbling and
paralytic hand, opened it before them. The cross was black. He dared
not lift his eyes to any face there save to Delany's, and when he saw
it covered with tears his looks again reverted that way. This lot it
is true was not decisive, yet it placed Gibbie on ticklish ground; it
having been agreed, that whoever should draw the two first black
crosses, subjected himself to immolation, if the necessity of the case
required it. The great Master and Tam were visibly well pleased with
the wicked chance that had fallen to the laird. The motives of the
former for this delight were quite a mystery to those who beheld it;
as for Tam, he seemed determined to keep no more terms with poor
Gibbie.

The poet also drew a red one; and then it was decreed, that the next
round Gibbie should have his choice of the time, if he judged it any
advantage either to be first or last. He seemed quite passive, and
said it was all one to him, he should draw at any time they chose, and
desired his friend Yardbire, as he termed him, to choose for him.
Charlie said he deemed the first chance the best, as he had then four
chances to be right, for one of being wrong; and it would be singular
indeed if his hand fixed on a black cross again for a time or two,
when more of them might be on an equal footing.

Gibbie accordingly turned round, and drew out one more of the ominous
scraps, opening it under the eyes of all the circle with rather a
hopeful look. "If the deil be nae in the cowl, I shall hae a red ane
this time," said he, as he unrolled it; but as soon as the head of the
cross appeared the ticket fell from his hand; and, as the friar
expressed it, there was no more strength remaining in him. "Verily, my
son, thy fate is decided," said the latter worthy; "and that in a
wonderful and arbitrary manner. As the Master said, so hath it come to
pass, although to judge of any thing having been done unfairly is
impossible."

"It is absolute nonsense to talk of aught being done fairly in this
place," said Charlie Scott: "There's naething but witchcraft gaun. I
tell ye a' things here are done by witchery an' the black arts; and
after what I heard the king of a' warlocks say, that the lot wad fa'
in this way, I winna believe that honest Gibbie has gotten fair play
for his life."

"If you would try it an hundred times over," said the Master, "you
would see it turn out in the same way. Did not I say to you that there
was a power presided over the decision by lot, which you neither know
nor comprehend. Man of metaphors and old wives' fables, where art thou
now?" "Keep a gude heart, Peatstacknowe," said Charlie; "perhaps
things may not come to the worst. I have great dependence on Dan
Chisholm and the warden's good men. I wonder they have not appeared
wi' proper mattocks, or ladders, by this time o' the morning."

"If they should," said the Master, "and if we were all set at liberty
this minute, he shall remain my bondsman, in place of these two and
him of whom your arts have bereaved me. Remember to what you agreed
formerly, of which I now remind you."

"I think that is but fair," said the poet.

"I do not know, gentlemen, what you call fair or foul," said Gibbie:
"I think there is little that is favourable going for somebody. Of the
two evils, I judge the last the worst. I appeal to my captain the
Warden." Gibbie's looks were so rueful and pitiable when he said this,
that no one had the heart to remonstrate farther with him on the
justice or injustice of his doom. The Master and Tam enjoyed his
plight exceedingly; the poet rejoiced in it, as it tended to free
Delany from a vile servitude; and the friar also was glad of the
release of the darling of his younger years, the grand-daughter of
Galli the scribe. Charlie and Delany were the only two that appeared
to suffer on account of the laird's dismal prospects, and their
feelings were nearly as acute as his own. Stories and all sorts of
amusements were now discontinued. A damp was thrown over these by the
dismal gloom on the laird's countenance, and the congenial feelings of
others on his account. The night had passed over without any more
visitants from the infernal regions; the day had arisen in the midst
of heaviness and gloom; and every eye was turned towards the mill, in
the expecsation of seeing the approach of Dan and his companions.



CHAPTER IV.

        Ask me not whence I am;
    My vesture speaks mine office.

        _Female Parliamenters, a MS. Com._


After the frightsome encounter at the mill, with "the masterless dog
and his bow-wow-wow," Dan and his companions spent a sleepless night,
not without several alarms and breathless listenings on the occurrence
of any noise without. Few were the nightly journies on the banks of
the Ettrick in those days, and few the midnight noises that occurred,
save from the wild beasts of the forest. There were no wooer lads
straying at that still and silent hour, to call up their sweethearts
for an hour's kind conversation. Save when the English marauders were
abroad, all was quietness by hamlet and steading. The land was the
abode of the genii of the woods, the rocks, and the rivers; and of
this the inhabitants were well aware, and kept within locked doors,
whose lintels were made of the mountain ash, and nightly sprinkled
with holy water. Cradle and bed were also fenced with cross, book, and
bead; for the inmates knew that in no other way could they be safe, or
rest in peace. They knew that their green and solitary glens were the
nightly haunts of the fairies, and that they held their sports and
amorous revels in the retiring dells by the light of the moon.
The mermaid sung her sweet and alluring strains by the shores of
the mountain lake, and the kelpie sat moping and dripping by his
frightsome pool, or the boiling caldron at the foot of the cataract.
The fleeting wraiths hovered round the dwellings of those who were
soon to die, and the stalking ghost perambulated the walks of him that
was lately living, or took up his nightly stand over the bones of the
unhouseholded or murdered dead. In such a country, and among such
sojourners, who durst walk by night?

But these were the natural residenters in the wilds of the woodland,
the aboriginal inhabitants of the country; and however inimical their
ways might be to the ways of men, the latter laid their account with
them. There were defences to be had against them from holy church,
which was a great comfort. But ever since Master Michael Scott came
from the colleges abroad to reside at the castle of Aikwood, the
nature of demonology in the forest glades was altogether changed, and
a full torrent of necromancy, or, as Charlie Scott better expressed
it, of _witchcraft_, deluged the country all over,--an art of the most
malignant and appalling kind, against which no fence yet discovered
could prevail. How different, indeed, became the situation of the
lonely hind. Formerly he only heard at a distance on moonlight eves
the bridle bells of the fairy troopers, which haply caused him to
haste homeward. But when the door was barred and fenced, he sat safe
in the middle of his family circle as they closed round the hearth,
and talked of the pranks of _the gude neyboris_. When the speats
descended, and floods roared and foamed from bank to brae, then would
they perceive the malevolent kelpie rolling and tumbling down the
torrent like a drowning cow, or mountain stag, to allure the hungry
peasant into certain destruction. But, aware of the danger, he only
kept the farther aloof, quaking at the tremendous experiment made by
the spirit of the waters. It was in vain that the mermaid sung the
sweetest strain s that ever breathed over the evening lake, or sunk
and rose again, spreading her hands for assistance, like a drowning
maiden, at the bottom of the abrupt cliff washed by the waves,--he
_would not_ be allured to her embraces.

But what could he do now? His daughters were turned into roes and
hares, to be hunted down for sport to the Master. The old wives of the
hamlet were saddled and bridled by night, and urged with whip and spur
over whole realms. The cows were deprived of their milk,--the hinds
cast their young, and no domestic cat in the whole district could be
kept alive for one year. That infernal system of witchcraft then
began, which the stake and the gibbet could scarcely eradicate in a
whole century. It had at this time begun to spread all around Aikwood;
but of these things our Border troopers were not altogether aware.
They dreaded the spirits of the old school, the devil in particular;
but of the new prevailing system of metamorphoses they had no
comprehension.

Dan and three chosen companions, mounting their horses by the break of
day, rode straight for the abbey of Melrose, to lodge their complaint
against the great enemy of mankind, and request assistance from the
holy fathers in rescuing their friends out of his hands. They reached
Darnick-burn before the rising of the sun; and just as they passed by
a small deep-wooded dell, they espied four horsemen approaching them,
who, from their robes and riding appurtenances, appeared to belong to
the abbey, and to rank high among its dignitaries. They were all
mounted on black steeds, clothed in dark flowing robes that were
fringed with costly fringes, and they had caps on their heads that
were horned like the new moon. The foremost, in particular, had a
formidable and majestic mitre on his head, that seemed all glancing
with gems, every one of which was either black, or a certain dazzling
red of the colour of flame.

Dan doffed his helmet to this dignified and commanding personage, but
he deigned not either to return our yeoman's low bow, that brought his
face in contact with the mane of his steed, or once to cross his hand
on his brow in token of accepting the submission proffered. He,
however, reined up his black steed, and sat upright on his saddle, as
if in the act of listening what this bold and blunt trooper had to
say.

"Begging pardon of your grand and sublime reverence," said Dan, "I
presume, from your lofty and priest-like demeanour, habiliments, and
goodly steed, and also from that twa-horned helmet on your head, that
you are the very chap I want. I beg your pardon I canna keep up my
style to suit your dignity. But are nae ye Father Lawrence, the great
primate, that acts as a kind o' king or captain ower a' the holy men
of Scotland, and has haudding in that abbey down by there?"

"Certes I am Father Lawrence. Dost thou doubt it?"

"No, no; what for should I doubt it when your worship has said it? An
we dinna find truth aneath the mitre and the gown, where are we to
look for it?"

The sublime abbot shook his head as if in scorn and derision of the
apothegm, and sat still upright on his steed, with his face turned
away. Dan looked round to his companions with a meaning look, as much
as to say, "What does the body mean?" But seeing that he sat still in
the act of listening, he proceeded.

"Worthy Sir Priest, ye ken our captain, Sir Ringan Redhough, warden of
the Border. He has helpit weel to feather your nest, ye ken."

"He has. There is no one can dispute it," said the abbot, nodding
assent.

"Then ye'll no be averse, surely, to the lending o' him and his a
helping hand in your ain way."

The priest nodded assent.

"Weel, ye see, Sir Priest, there is a kinsman of our master's lives up
by here at Aikwood, a rank warlock, and master o' the arts of
witchcraft and divination. He is in compact wi' the deil, and can do
things far ayont the power o' mortal man. What do ye think, Sir
Priest? he can actually turn a man into a dog, and an auld wife into a
hare; a mouse into a man, and a cat into a good glyde-aver. And mair
than that, Sir, he can raise storms and tempests in the air; can gar
the rivers rin upward, and the trees grow down. He can shake the solid
yird; and, look ye, Sir, he can cleave a great mountain into three,
and lift the divisions up like as mony gowpens o' sand."

The stern abbot gave a glance up to the three new hills of Eildon,
that towered majestically over their heads; but it seemed rather a
look of exultation than one either of wonder or regret.

"Weel, Sir, disna our captain send a few chosen friends, a wheen queer
devils to be sure, on a message of good friendship to this auld
warlock Master Michael Scott, merely with a request to read him some
trivial weird. And what does the auld knave, but pricks them a' up on
the top o' his castle, wi' a lockit iron-door aneath them, and there
has keepit them in confinement till they are famishing of hunger, and
I fear by this time they are feeding on ane another. And the warst o't
ava, Sir, is this, I wad break his bolts and his bars to atoms for
him, but has nae he the deil standing sentry on the stair, spuing fire
and brimstone on a' that come near him in sic torrents that it is like
the fa' o' the Grey-mare's-tail. Now, maist reverend and worthy Sir,
my errand and request to you is, that, for my master's sake, and for
his men's sake, that are a' good Christians, for ought that I ken to
the contrary, you will lend us a lift wi' book and bead, Ave Marias,
and other powerful things, to drive away this auld sneckdrawing thief,
the devil, and keep him away till I get my friends released; and I
promise you, in my master's name, high bounty and reward."

"Ha! is it so?" said the abbot, in a hollow, tremulous voice. "Are my
friend and fellow-soldier's men detained in that guise? Come, my
brethren, let us ride,--let us fly to their release, and we shall see
whose power can stand against our own. For Aikwood, ho!"

"For Aikwood, ho!" shouted Dan and his companions, as they took the
rear of the four sable dignitaries; and striking the spurs into their
steeds all at the same time, they went off at their horses' utmost
speed, but in a short time the four yeomen were distanced. The black
steeds and their riders went at such a pace as warrior had never
before witnessed. Up by the side of Hindly-burn they sped, with the
most rapid velocity,--over mire, over ditch, over ford, without stay
or stumble. Dan and his companions posted on behind, sparing neither
whip nor spur, for they were affronted that these gownsmen should
display more energy in their master's cause, and the cause of his
friends, than they should do themselves. But their horses floundered,
and blew, and snorted, and puffed, and whisked their tails with a
whistling sound, and still lagged farther and farther behind.

"Come, come, callants," cried Dan to his companions, "let us rein up.
These bedesmen's horses are ower weel fed for our bog-trotting nags.
They fly like the wind. Od, we may as weel try to ride wi' the devil."

"Whisht, whisht," said Will Martin; "I dinna like to mak ower familiar
wi' that name now-a-days. We never ken wha's hearing us in this
country."

They were nigh to the heights when these words passed, and the four
black horsemen perceiving them to take it leisurely, they paused and
wheeled about, and the majestic primate taking off his cornuted
chaperon, waved it aloft, and called aloud, "For shame, sluggish
hinds! Why won't you speed, before the hour of prevention is lost? For
Aikwood, ho, I say!" As he said these words, his black courser plunged
and reared at a fearful rate; and, as our troopers thought, at one
bolt sprung six or seven yards from the ground. The marks of that
black horse's hoofs remain impressed in the sward to this day, and
the spot is still called _The Abbot's lee_. At least it had been so
called when Isaac the curate wrote this history.

To keep clear of the wood that was full of thickets, they turned a
little to the left, and pursued their course; and the ground becoming
somewhat firmer, our yeomen pursued hard after them. But on coming
over the steep brow of a little hill, the latter perceived a mountain
lake of considerable extent that interrupted their path, and, to their
utter astonishment, the four black horsemen going straight across it,
at about the same rate that the eagle traverses the firmament. "The
loch is frozen and bears over," said Dan: "Let us follow them across."

"The loch is frozen indeed," said Will Martin, "but, ony man may see,
that ice winna bear a cat."

"Haud your tongue, you gouk," said Dan: "Do ye think the thing that
bore them winna bear us?" And as he spurred foremost down the steep,
he took the lake at the broad side; but the ice offering no manner of
resistance, horse and man were in one moment out of sight. The sable
horsemen on the other side shouted with laughter, and called aloud to
the troopers, "to venture on, and haste forward, for the ice was
sufficiently strong."

The bold trooper and his horse were extricated with some difficulty,
and the monks testifying the utmost impatience he remounted, dripping
as he was, and not being able to find the passage across the lake on
the ice, he and his companions gallopped around the head of it. As he
rode, the morning being frosty, he chanced to utter these words:
"Heigh-ho, but I be a _cauld cheil_!" Which words, says Isaac, gave
the name to that lake and the hill about it to all future ages; and
from those perilous days of witchcraft and divination, and the
shocking incidents that befel to men, adds he, have a great many of
the names of places all over our country had their origin.

The dark horsemen always paused until the troopers were near them, as
if to encourage them on, but they never suffered them to join
company. When they came over a ridge above old Lindean they were hard
upon them, but lost sight of them for a short space on the height;
and, coming on full speed, they arrived on the brink of a deep wooded
dell, and to their utter astonishment saw the four gownsmen on the
other side, riding deliberately along, and beckoning them forward.

"I am sair mista'en," said Will Martin, "gin thae chaps hae nae gaen
ower the cleugh at ae bound. An it warna for their habits I wad take
them for something nouther good nor cannie."

"Haud your tongue, or else speak feasible things," said Dan; "Can the
worthy Father Lawrence, and his chief priors and functionaries ever be
suspected as warlocks, or men connected wi' the devil and his arts. If
sic were to be the case, we hae nae mair trust to put in aught on this
earth. The dell maun be but a step across. Here is a good passable
road; come, let us follow them.

Dan led the way, and they dived into the dell by a narrow track,
rather like a path for a wild goat than men and horses; however, by
leaping, sliding, and pushing one another's horses behind, they got to
the bottom of the precipice, and perceiving a path on the other side,
they expected to reach the western brink immediately. But in this they
were mistaken; abrupt rocks, and impenetrable thickets barred their
progress on every side, and they found it impossible to extricate
themselves without leaving their horses. They tried every quarter with
the same success, and at the last attempted to ascend by the way they
came; but that too they found impracticable, and all the while they
heard the voices of their fellow travellers chiding their stay from
above, and shaming them for their stupidity in taking the wrong path.
At one time they heard them calling on them to come this way, here was
an excellent out-gate; and when the toiled yeomen stuck fairly still
in that direction, they instantly heard other voices urging them to
ascend by some other quarter. At other times they thought they heard
restrained bursts of giggling laughter. After a great deal of
exertion to no manner of purpose, they grew they neither knew what to
do nor what they were doing, and at last were obliged to abandon their
horses, and climb the ascent by hanging by the bushes and roots of
trees. When they emerged from the deep hollow, they perceived
eight black horsemen awaiting them instead of four; but as the
country around Melrose and Dryburgh swarmed with members of the holy
brotherhood of every distinction and rank, the troopers took no notice
of it, thinking these were some of the head functionaries come to wait
on their abbot. The latter chided our yeomen in sharp and resentful
language for their utter stupidity in taking the wrong path, and
regretted exceedingly the long delay their mistake had occasioned, his
time he said being limited, as was also the time that his power
prevailed in a more particular way over the powers of darkness. "For
us to go alone," added he, "would signify nothing. The manual labour
of breaking through the iron gates we cannot perform; therefore,
unless you can keep up with us, we may return home by the way we
came."

"I am truly grieved," said Dan, "at our misfortune. We have certainly
been more forward than wise, and I fear have marred the fairest chance
we will ever have for the deliverance of our friends. But I have a few
fellow warriors at the mill who will accompany you for a word of your
mouth. I beg that you will not think of returning, for the case brooks
no delay. We have lost our horses, and can hardly reach the castle on
foot before it be evening. I wot not what we shall do."

"Brethren, I am afraid I must request of you to lend these brave
troopers your horses," said the abbot to the four last comers. "My
esteem for the doughty champion of my domains is such, that I would
gladly do him a favour." "O thank you, thank you, kind sir; we are
mair behadden to you than tongue can tell," said Dan. The four new
come brethren dismounted at their abbot's request; and, without taking
a moment to hesitate, the four yeomen mounted their horses. The abbot
Lawrence charged them to urge the steeds to their utmost speed. Away
went the abbot and his three sable attendants, and away went the four
troopers after them; but from the first moment that they started the
latter lost sight of the ground, unless it was, as they thought, about
a mile below their feet. The road seemed to be all one marble
pavement, or sheet of solid alabaster; there was neither height nor
hollow in it that they could distinguish; but the fire flew from the
heels of the horses, and sparkled across the firmament like thousands
of flying stars. The velocity at which they went was such, that the
borderers could not draw their breath save by small broken gulps; but
as they imagined they rode at such an immense distance from the
ground, they kept firm by their seats for bare life, leaning forward
with their eyes and their mouths wide open. Having never in all their
lives rode on such a path, they were soon convinced that they could
not be riding toward Aikwood, around which the roads were very
different. They often attempted to speak to one another, but could
not utter any thing farther than one short sound, for the swiftness
with which they clove the atmosphere cut their voices short. At length
Dan, perceiving his comrade, Will Martin, scouring close by his side,
forced out the following sentence piecemeal:

"Where--the--devil--are we--gaun--now?"

"Straight--to--hell.--What--need--ye--speer?"

"The--lord--for--for--for--bid--Will Martin," was the reply, which has
since grown to a proverb.

On they flew, over hill, over dale, over rock and river, over town,
tower, and steeple, as our yeomen deemed; but they might deem what
they pleased, for they saw nothing except now and then the tails of
the churchmen's gowns flapping in the air before them. However, they
came to their goal sooner than they expected, and that in a way as
singular as that by which they reached it.

The miller at Aikwood-mill had a whole hill of kiln-seeds, or
shealings of oats, thrown out in a heap adjoining to the mill. Ere
ever our yeomen knew what they were doing from the time they mounted,
they were all lying in this immense heap of kiln-seeds, perfectly
dizzy and dumfoundered, and setting up their heads from among them
with the same sort of staring stupid attempt at consideration as the
heads of so many frogs which may be seen newly popped up out of a
marsh. The bedesmen were a-head of them to the end of the course, and
drew up by wheeling their horses round the kiln as if it had been a
winning-post; but the yeomen's horses, in making the wheel, threw
their riders, one by one, with a jerk over head and ears among the
loose heap of seeds, and galloping off around the corner of the hill,
they never saw another hair of their tails.

The miller came running out from his mill with his broad dusty bonnet;
the smoky half-roasted kiln-man out from his logie; the mill-maidens
came skipping from the meal-trough, as white as lilies; the rest of
the warden's men, and the four sable dignitaries of the church came
also, and all of them stood in a ring round our dismounted troops,
some asking one question, some another, but all in loud fits of
laughter. Their wits could not be rallied in an instant; and all that
they could do or say was to blow the seeds out of their mouths, with
which they were literally filled, and utter some indefinite sentences,
such as, "Rather briskish yauds these same!" "May the like o' mine
never be crossed by man again!" "Hech! but they are the gear for the
lang road!" "What's become o' them? I wad like to take a right look o'
them for aince." "Do ye want to look if they have mark o' mouth, Will?
You may look at some o' these that came foremost then. Yours are aff
wi' their tails on their rigging; there are some cheated if ever you
see mair o' them." Will Martin looked at the abbot's horse; but when
he saw the glance of his eye, he would not have taken him by the jaws
to have looked his mouth for all Christendom.

The four sable horsemen led the way, and all the yeomen followed on
foot, bearing with them such mattocks as they had been able to
procure about Selkirk that morning, and away they marched in a body to
Aikwood castle. That was a blyth sight to our forlorn and starving
prisoners; even Gibbie had some hopes of a release: but whenever
Master Michael Scott got a near view of the four sable equestrians, he
sunk into profound and gloomy silence, and every now and then his
whole frame was observed to give a certain convulsed shake, or
shudder, which cannot be described. The rest of the sufferers supposed
it to proceed from his rooted aversion to holy and devout men; but
they were so intent on regaining their own liberty that they paid
little attention to the manner in which he was affected. Father
Lawrence bade the men proceed to work, and he would retire into an
inner chamber and exercise himself so as to keep from them all sorts
of interruption from spirits of whatever denomination, and he pledged
himself for their protection. They thanked him, and hasted to execute
their design; nor were they long in accomplishing it. By the help of
huge scaling hammers they broke down a part of the narrow stair-case,
and actually set their friends at liberty. But the abbot enjoined them
in nowise to depart, or to do any thing contrary to the desire of the
mighty Master, while they remained in his premises, else he could not
answer for the consequences. This our yeomen readily assented to, and
undertook to prevail with their friends to acquiesce in the same
measure.

As soon as the iron-door was forced, the abbot Lawrence sent one of
his officers to desire Master Michael Scott to come and speak to him
privately in the secret chamber. The wizard looked at the messenger as
a sovereign does to a minister of whom he is afraid, or a master to a
slave, who, he knows, would assassinate him if he could; nevertheless
he rose and followed him to his superior. What passed between these
two dignified characters it is needless here to relate, as the
substance of the matter will appear in the sequel. But the Master
returned into the great hall, where the warden's men were by that time
all assembled, an altered man indeed. His countenance glanced with a
sublime but infernal exultation. His eye shone with ten times the
vigour of youthful animation. It was like a dying flame relumined,
that flashes with more than pristine brightness; and the tones of his
voice were like those of a conqueror on the field of battle. With this
voice, and with this mien, he ordered the friar and his ward Delany
instantly to quit the castle; and if an hour hence they were found on
his domains, he would cause them to be hewed into so many pieces as
there were hairs on their heads.

"Lo thy threats are unto me as the east wind," said the friar: "Yea as
the wind that cometh from the desert, and puffeth up the vapours on
the stagnant pools of water. If my companions in adversity go, then
will I also go along with them. But if they remain, by the life of
Pharaoh, so likewise will thy servant; and what hast thou more to say,
thou man of Belial?"

The Master shook his grey locks and his dark silvery beard in
derision; and Charlie Scott, whose confidence in his friend the friar
was now unbounded, stepped up to back what he had said, and to protest
against parting company. Dan, however, interfered hastily, and told
them he was bound by a promise to the holy father, who had wrought
their liberty, to do nothing adverse to the will of the Master, while
they remained in his castle and on his domains; and therefore he
begged they would comply without more words, and without delay. The
friar then consented, much against Charlie's inclination; and taking
Delany by the hand, he said: "Lo I will even depart; but I will remain
at the ford of Howden-burn until my friends arrive, for then am I from
off the territory of this blasphemer and worker of all manner of
iniquity. See that you tarry not at the wine, neither let your eyes
behold strange women, that it may be well with you." So the two went
away, and did as they had said. The friar found his mule in good
keeping, and he remained with the maid in a cottage at the fords of
Howden-burn, to await the issue of this singular and unfortunate
embassy.

"Now shall I have my will, and do that which seems meet to me," said
the Master, as he strode the hall with unrestrained energy. "Did the
dolt imagine he could, with his tricks of legerdemain, outdo me in the
powers and mysteries of my art? No, that man is unborn! Let him go
with his crosiers and his breviaries; I am Michael Scott once again!"

"It is needless to say ought here," said Charlie Scott aside to his
companions: "Fock should ken weel what they say, and where they are
saying it. But the truth is, that the friar was the greatest man o'
the twa; and that auld birkie was right sair cowed in his presence. It
is sair against my will that we hae been obliged, by your promise,
Dan, to part wi' the gospel friar; for, d'ye ken, I feel amaist as the
buckler were ta'en aff my arm, to want him as lang as I am here. What
do you think the carl did, Dan? Come here, you and Will, and I'll tell
you. When we came here, ye see, the master had a steward, a perfect
hound o' hell, wha thought to guide us waur than dogs; and he crossed
the friar unco sair, till at length he lost a' patience wi' him, and,
lord sauf us! sent him up through the clouds in a flash o' fire; and
there has never been mair o' him seen, but some wee bits o' fragments.
I can tell you the loss o' sic a man as the friar, out o' sic a place
as this, is a loss no easily made up."

"Have a little patience, brave Yardbire," said Dan: "We have the great
and the grave abbot Lawrence in his place. He is our firm friend and
our captain's friend, and every thing will now be settled in the most
amicable manner."--"That holy father and his assistants are the only
hope I hae," returned Charlie: "An it warna for their presence, I
wadna stay another half hour in sic a place as this. Ye little ken
what scenes we ha'e witnessed during the days and nights that we ha'e
been here. However, as I had the charge of the embassage, I will gang
and speak to the auld billy. He seems to be in a high key. Master
Michael Scott; ye ken that yoursel' and our auld friar, by your
trials o' skill in your terrible arts o' witchcraft, brought about an
accident that has kept us ower lang here, to the great trouble and
inconveniency of our captain, your own brave kinsman. Now, since we
are a' at liberty again, we beseech you to give us our answer; and if
you canna read the weird that he desires of you, why tell us sae at
aince, and let us gang about our business."

"Gallant yeoman, your request shall be granted without loss of time,"
said the Master. "But it is the venerable father's request that I
should regale my kinsman's people before dismissing them, to make some
small return for the privations they have suffered. Be satisfied then
to remain for a few hours, till you taste of my cheer; and in the
meanwhile I will look into the book of fate, and not only tell you
what your captain, Sir Ringan, ought to do, but I will show you
demonstratively what he _must_ do, if he would succeed in raising his
name and his house above that of every Scottish baron." "Thank ye,
noble sir," said Charlie: "There shall never be another word about
it. If we gain our errand sae satisfactorily at last, I'll count a'
that we ha'e bidden weel wared."

"Noble and worthy Sir, you never yet have said who told the most
efficient tale, and unto whom the maiden should belong," said the
poet.

"'Twas he, your captain there, who said the tale I most approved, and
to him I award my right in the toy, the trifle you call maiden,"
returned the Master. "And it is well remembered, squire; amongst you,
you deprived me of my steward, a man that could have accomplished a
great deal,--I therefore claim this worthy in his stead, as agreed;
and glad may he be that he escapes so well."

"I fear I will be a bad cook, and an awkward valet," said Gibbie. "I
was never very handy at ought that way. Tam wad answer a great deal
better, an it were your will."

"We will have you taught practically, and to profit," said the Master:
"The three brethren, attendants on father Lawrence, shall take you to
task this instant. They will act as your assistants and masters
to-day, and to their hands I recommend you. Be expert, and spare no
cost." So saying, he gave three tramps with his heel, as he was wont
to do in time past, and instantly the three sable monks stood before
him. "Take that comely youth," said he, "and bestow on him a few
cogent lessons in the mysteries of the culinary art. You may teach him
a few _varieties_." As he said this, there was a malignant smile
rather darkened than lighted up his stern features, and on the instant
the three monks had Gibbie from the ground; and one holding by each
arm and another by both his feet, they rushed out of the hall with
him, in the same way that one drives a wheelbarrow. When the men of
the embassy heard the three tramps, and the words about the varieties,
they looked at one another with rather uneasy sensations. But the
presence of father Lawrence, and the other three holy brethren,
encouraged them still to acquiesce in the Master's request.

A short time after this, as they were sauntering about the castle,
they heard some loud giggling laughter, intermixed with squeaking
cries of despair; which last they could well distinguish as proceeding
from the lungs of poor Gibbie Jordan; and immediately after that there
came among them a huge red capon, fluttering and screaming in a most
desperate and deplorable manner, and all the three monks pursuing him
with shouts of delight. The feathers were half plucked off him, and
his breath quite spent, so that they easily laid hold of him, and
carried him away by the neck to have him spitted living, as they said.
Our yeomen saw nothing but an overgrown bird, but they heard well that
the voice was the voice of Jordan. "These monks are trifling and
amusing themselves," said Tam; "we shall get no dinner before night."

The words were hardly well said when the castle bell rung, and in they
all rushed to the great hall where stood a plentiful dinner smoking
along the board, and the abbot and the Master both seated at the upper
end, side by side. Our yeomen thought it extraordinary to see the
great warlock and the reverend father in such close compact, but they
held their peace. The abbot rose and pronounced a blessing on the
food, but it was in an unknown tongue, and little did they wot of its
purport. There was great variety on the table of every kind of food,
yet there was not one of our yeomen knew of what the greater part of
the dishes consisted. But the huge capon stood at the head of the
table, and though he had been killed and cooked in a few minutes, the
bird looked exceedingly well. The abbot and the Master devoured him
with so much zest, that no one liked to call for a piece of him, save
Tam Craik, who eat a wing of him; but there was no broad bone in his
shoulder, yet Tam declared him the first meat he had ever tasted, save
once, in his life. Charlie was placed next the Master, and Dan next
the abbot Lawrence. The three monks, attendants on the latter, served
the table, but nothing of the new steward made his appearance. The
wine and other strong liquors were served round in great abundance,
and the quality was so excellent, that, notwithstanding of the friar's
charge, every one drank liberally, and soon got into high glee.
Whenever the supreme and haughty abbot swallowed a cup of wine, Dan,
who sat next him, heard always a hissing sound within his breast, as
if one had been pouring water on red hot iron. This startled the
trooper terribly for two or three times at first, but his surprise
lessened and wore off by degrees as the liquor continued to exalt his
spirits. The feast went on, and the wine flowed; but, as on a former
occasion, the men ate without being satisfied. The wines and liquor
were all however real, and had their due effect, so that the spirit of
hilarity rose to a great height.

It was observed that father Lawrence conversed with no one but the
Master, and the dialogue they held was all in an unknown tongue, in
which tongue also, they sometimes conferred with the servitors. The
Master left the table three several times, for he had a charm going
on in another part of the castle, and at the third time returned with
the black book of fate, the book of the dynasties of men below his
arm, and laid it closed on the table before him.

"Now, my brave and warlike guests," said he. "Before I open this awful
book, it is meet that every one of you be blind-folded. I ask this for
your own sakes. If any one of you were to look but on one character of
this book, his brain would be seared to a cinder, his eyes would fly
out of their sockets, and perhaps his whole frame might be changed
into something unspeakable and monstrous."

"Gude faith, sir Master, I'll haud my een as close as they were sewed
up wi' an elshin and a lingel," said Charlie. So said they all, but
they were not trusted; the monks were ordered to go round the table
and tie every one's eyes closely up; and when this was done, they were
desired to lay all their heads down upon their hands on the board, and
to sit without moving, whatever they might hear. He then proceeded to
open the massy iron clasps, and as soon as they were unloosed, three
spirits burst from the book with loud shrieks, and escaped through the
barbican. The yells were so piercing that some of our yeomen started
from their seats, but dared not lift their heads. "Ah! They are gone,"
said the Master: "This weird will cost me dear!"

"Fear nothing, but proceed," said father Lawrence.

He opened the book, and three peals of thunder ensued that shook the
castle to its foundations, every one of them louder than the last; and
though our yeomen sat trembling in utter darkness, they heard voices
around them as if the hall had been crowded full of people; among
others, they deemed that they could distinguish the voices of the
warden and his lady. They, however, sat still as if chained to their
places, awaiting the issue; and, after much noise and apparent
interruptions, the great Master read out as follows:

    "He for whom this weird is read,
    Be he son of battle bred,
    Be he baron born to peril,
    Be he lord, or be he earl,
    Let him trust his gallant kin,
    And the sword below the skin.
    When the red buck quits the cover,
    When the midnight watch is over,
    Then, whatever may betide,
    Trust the horn, and trust the hide,
    He that drives shall feel the gin,
    But he that's driven shall get in.
    All for whom this weird is read,
    For the living, for the dead,
    From the chief with corslet shorn,
    To the babe that is unborn,
    Let them to the sceptre lean,
    Till the place where they have been
    See their sway expand untroubled,
    Doubled, doubled, nine times doubled;
    First to rise and rule the rings,
    Mixed with blood of mighty kings.
    This is read for princes, peers,
    And children of a thousand years;
    Now begins their puissant story;
    Strike the blow and gain the glory.
    Rise not against feudal union,
    No advance but in communion,
    Though through battle, broil, and murther.--
    Shut the book, and read no further."

The book was closed, and loud shouts of applause, as from a great
multitude, were heard at a distance; as that died away, a peal of
thunder burst forth over their heads, which rolled away with an
undulating sound, till lost in the regions of the western heavens.

Our yeomen's eyes were then unbound, and when they looked up the book
of fate was removed, and the Master was fallen back on his seat, with
his countenance mightily distorted; but the abbot and his attendants
would not suffer any to touch him till he recovered of himself. He
again rose into high and unwonted spirits; but his elevation was
rather like the delirium of a man driven to desperation, than that
flow of delightful hilarity, the offspring of a temperate and well
regulated mind. The borderers persevered in their libations, and the
mirth and noise increased till near the fall of the evening, when
Charlie again proposed to go; but the Master protested against it for
a short space, adding, that he had to give them a practical lesson how
their captain ought to proceed, if he would be the greatest man in
Scotland. This was quite sufficient to prevail on Yardbire, and none
of the rest appeared much disposed to move.

About this time some of our yeomen, sitting with their faces toward
the casement, beheld a novel scene, which they called up the rest to
witness. This was the Master's new steward, the late laird of the
Peatstacknowe, making his escape from the castle with all possible
speed. He was stripped half naked, and bareheaded; had thrown himself
over the outer wall, lest he should be seen going by the gate, and
was running up the hollow of Aikwood burn, among the trees, to
elude discovery. Presently afterwards they beheld two of the monks
stretching after him with a swiftness not to be outrun. Poor Gibbie
was soon overhied and brought back, not in the most gentle manner;
and, instead of carrying him round by the gate, which, having been
broken up, stood wide open, they took him by the heels, and threw him
over the wall, at the place he had leaped before. Gibbie gave a loud
squeak in the air, as he came over the wall with a wheeling motion;
and falling on the other side, every one believed that there would not
be a whole bone left in his body. Instead of that he sprung to his
feet, and ran across the court, saying to himself, "I'll tell you
what--It minds me o' hell this place,--if ever there was ane upon
earth." He got not time to finish the sentence till he was again
seized, and hauled into the castle.

"Master Michael Scott, I protest in my master's name against this
usage of a leal vassal and tiend laird," said Charlie.

"The comely youth is mine by your own agreement," said the Master:
"He shall be well seen to. Perhaps I shall only keep him for a
season, until better supplied. Be content; the matter is now beyond
disputation. In the meantime I will proceed to give you a specimen of
my profound art, of which you have now seen many instances; and also
of my esteem for your captain, to whom you will be so good as repeat
this."

He then went away to his arcana, and brought a bason of liquor,
resembling wine, which he sprinkled on all his guests in small
proportions, and taking his seat beside the supercilious abbot, the
two sat apparently waiting for some grand metamorphosis. The spell,
powerful as it was, had not the effect that was surmised. These rude
warriors of a former age had principles of virtue and honour in their
natures that withstood the charms of necromancy,--those charms before
which noble dames, cruel laymen, and selfish clergy sunk down
confounded and overpowered. The countenances of a few of the troopers
were somewhat changed by the spell, assuming thereby a sort of
resemblance to beasts, but this their associates only laughed at,
deeming it occasioned by the drunkenness of the individuals affected.
The two great personages at the head of the table viewed the matter in
a different light, and that with evident symptoms of disappointment.
They comprehended the reason, for they knew there was but one against
which the powers of darkness could not prevail; and, after holding a
conversation about it in their own mysterious language, they set about
the accomplishment of their desires, for, though a matter of no great
avail, the Master could not brook to be baulked in any of his works
of divination. The purport of this conversation was, what the Master
had once proposed before, that the men must be made accessory to their
own transformation; and in this project he forthwith engaged with all
manner of earnestness.



CHAPTER V.

    He can turn a man into a boy;
      A boy into an ass;
    He can change your gold into white moneye;
      Your white moneye into brass;
    He can turn our goodman to a beast
      With hoof, but, an' with horn,
    And chap the goodwife in her cheer,
      This little John Barleycorn.

        _Old Song._


The plan of our great necromancer was no other than that of pushing
round the wine, and other strong intoxicating liquors, to the utmost
extremity; and it is well known that these stimulating beverages have
charms that no warrior, or other person accustomed to violent
exertions, can withstand, after indulging in them to a certain extent.
The mirth and argument, or rather the bragg of weir, grew first
obstreperous, afterwards boisterous and unruly, and several of the men
got up and strode the hall with drawn swords, without being able to
tell with whom they were offended or going to fight. Neither the
Master nor the abbot discouraged this turmoil, but pushed round the
liquor, till some of the most intimate friends and associates of the
party, in the extravagance of intoxication, actually wounded one
another, and afterwards blubbered, like children, for vexation. While
they were all in this state of unnatural elevation, father Lawrence
got up, and addressed himself to the party, for the first time. He
represented to them, by striking metaphors, the uncertainty and toil
of the warrior's life; and requested all such of them as loved ease,
freedom, and independence, to become inmates of his habitation; and
during the time of their noviciates, he promised them every good
thing. Several of them pretended to snap at the proffer, some on one
condition, some on another; but when he presented a scroll of
parchment, written in red characters, for their marks or signatures,
no one would sign and seal, save Tam Craik, who put his mark to it
three times with uncommon avidity, on the positive condition that he
was to have as much fat flesh as he could eat for the first three
years, at all times that he chose, by day or by night.

When matters were at this pass, and our brave yeomen could with
difficulty rise to their feet, they heard a chorus of sweet and
melodious music approaching, which still drew nearer and nearer. This
was a treat they little expected in such an habitation; but how much
greater was their surprise, when the hall-door was thrown open, and
there were ushered in thirty of the most lovely maidens that the eyes
of men had ever beheld. They seemed, too, to be all of noble lineage,
for they were dressed like eastern princesses, rustling in their
silks, and covered over with dazzling gems. The Master welcomed them
with stately courtesy, apologizing for the state of his castle, and
the necessity they would be under of sitting down and sharing the
feast with warriors, who, however, he assured them were all gallant
gentlemen, of his own kin, and some of them of his own name. The
splendid dames answered, that nothing on earth would give them so
much delight as to share the feast with gentlemen and warriors, the
natural protectors of their helpless sex, to whom it should be their
principal aim to pay all manner of deference.

As soon as the door was opened, our brave yeomen, with the profound
respect that men of their boisterous occupation always pay to female
beauty and rare accomplishments, started all to their feet, and made
their obeisance. But the worst concern for them was, that they could
not stand on their feet. Some of them propped themselves on the hilts
of their sheathed swords, leaning the points backward against the
wall. Others kept a sly hold of the buff-belt of the comrade next to
him; and a few, of whom the poet was one, and Tam another, lost their
balance, and fell back over the benches, showing the noble dames the
soles of their sandals. All was silence and restraint, and a view of
no group could be more amusing; for though our heroes were hardly able
to behave themselves with the utmost propriety, yet they were all
endeavouring to do it; some keeping their mouths close shut, that no
misbecoming word might possibly escape from their lips; some turning
up their white faces, manifesting evident symptoms of sickness, and
some unable to refrain their joy at this grand addition to their
party.

The first breaking up of the conversation was likewise extremely
curious; but it was begun in so many corners about the same time, it
is impossible to detail it all. Will Martin, with a lisping unbowsome
tongue, addressed the one next him to the following effect.

"Fine evening this, noble dame."

"Do you account this so very fine an evening, gallant knight?"

"Hem, hem; glorious roads too; most noble lady,--paced all
with--marble, you know. Hem! Came you by the marble path, fair lady?
Hem! hem!"

"Not by the marble path, most courteous knight, but on one of
alabaster, bordered with emeralds, rubies, and diamonds you know. Hem!
hem!"

"May all the powers--Hem--powers of beauty, you know--Ay--hem! and
love. Hem! What was I about to say?"

"Could not guess, knight."

"That smile is so sweet. Will such an--hem!--such an angelic
creature,--really con--descend to converse familiarly with a plain,
homely warrior."

"Your notice does me far too much honour, worthy knight." And so
saying she put the tip of her palm gently on the warrior's rough hand.
Intoxicated as Will was with wine, he was petrified with astonishment
and delight, and could not find terms to express his gratitude and
adoration. Many others were likewise by the same time testifying, by
their bright and exulting looks, the joy and delight they were
experiencing in the conversation of those most beautiful and refined
of all earthly objects. Tam Craik beheld, or thought he beheld, his
lovely Kell among them, blooming in tenfold loveliness. He was so
drunk that he could not articulate one syllable; but he fixed his long
coulter-nose and grey eyes steadily in the direction of her face, and
put his hand below the table and scratched.

Still the cup and the cates circulated without any respite. The Master
and the abbot both called them round and round; and though the lovely
and high-born dames tasted sparingly, nevertheless the circumstance of
their having touched the cup with their lips was sufficient to induce
the enamoured warriors to drink to them in healths deep and dangerous.
Reason had long been tottering on her throne with the best of them,
but these amorous draughts of homage overthrew her completely, and
laid her grovelling in the dust. The heroes fell from their seats
first by ones, but ere the last in threes and fours. Still the
courteous and sympathetic beauties tried to administer comfort and
assistance to their _natural protectors_, by holding up their heads,
and chafing their temples; but, in spite of all they could do, total
oblivion of passing events ensued to the whole of our incautious
troopers.

The next morning presented a scene in the great hall of Aikwood,
which, if it cannot be described, neither can it ever be conceived.
There lay our troop of gallant yeomen, as good as ever heaved buckler,
scattered over the floor; some in corners, some below benches, every
one of their eyes sealed in profound slumber though the day was well
advanced, and every one having an inamorata in his arms, or clinging
close to him of her own accord. At a given signal, the great bell of
the castle was rung with a knell that might have wakened the dead. The
sleepers raised their drowsy and aching heads all at the same time;
and, as was natural, every one turned his eyes first toward the
partner of his slumbers. Their sensations may be in some measure
conceived, when, instead of the youthful, blooming, angelic beings,
whom they had seen over-night, there lay a group of the most horrible
hags that ever opened eyes on the light of day. Instead of the light,
flowing, and curled hair, there hung portions of grey dishevelled
locks. Instead of the virgin bloom of the cheek, and the brilliant
enamel of the eye, all was rheum, haggardness, and deformity. Some
had two or three long pitted teeth, of the colour of amber; some had
none. Their lovely mouths were adorned with curled and silvery
mustachios; and their fair necks were shrivelled and seriated like the
bark of a pine-tree. Instead of the rustling silks and dazzling
jewels, they were all clothed in noisome rags; and, to crown the
horror of our benumbed and degraded Bacchanalians, every one of the
witches had her eyes fixed on her partner, gleaming with hellish
delight at the state to which they had reduced themselves, and the
horrors of their feelings. The poet, and two or three others, fell
into convulsions; and all of them turned away groaning, and hid their
faces from these objects of abhorrence.

The Master came with his enchanted liquor once more, and sprinkled it
over the prostrate and humbled group, who were now in that state of
mental agony that rendered them indifferent to aught that could occur;
and, as he sprinkled them, he said to himself, "I now have the power
over you, though you had been seven times anointed in holy church."

"Aye, seven times seven," said a tremendous voice; and the words were
followed by a laugh that shook the vault of the hall, which laugh was
echoed by three or four accordant voices, and afterwards by all the
witches in the apartment. The astounded warriors again raised their
heads, and beheld their friend, the abbot, stalking along and along
the hall in the midst of them in majesty sublime. He wore the same
sable and flowing robes, and the same mitre, that he did on the
preceding day; but he was now striding openly in his own character,
with his legs shagged and hairy, shaped like those of a goat, and his
feet cloven into two distinct and horny hoofs. The three attendants
were there also, but they were no more three monks, but the identical,
Prig, Prim, and Pricker, the infernal pages of Master Michael Scott.
In short, our yeomen discovered, to their utter despair, that they had
been riding, eating, and drinking, hand to fist, with the devil in
_propria persona_.

Before giving any of them time to recover their senses, he strode up
to Dan Chisholm, and stooping over him with exultation, he said, "Did
not I tell you, Christian droich, when I bayed you at the mill, that I
would be before hand with you at Melrose, and have not I kept my
word?" As he said these words, Dan once more saw down his throat, and
beheld the burning flame within. Half-dead with fright, he threw
himself back on the floor, and held up one foot and one hand, as his
last inefficient defence, on which his infernal Majesty vomited such a
torrent of sparkling flame out upon him and his forlorn partners, that
they lost all hope of ever again moving from the place where they
were.

"Take heart, my brave fellows," said the Master. "This great primate,
you see, is no other than the prince of the power of the air, the
great controller of the mighty elements, who has honoured us with his
company. You are now in his power, and lie at his mercy; but he is
more of a gentleman than he is generally represented to be, and will
scorn to take advantage of a few poor insignificant creatures, who
call themselves Christians, of whose company he is sure before he
wants it. He knows you will fume, and bully, and fight for a few short
years, sending one another home to his ample mansions in myriads
before your time. Both he and I would scorn to take farther advantage
of beings so blind ignorant, and inconsistent, than suits our own
amusement. We only love to mock you, show you your own littleness, and
how easy a prey you would be, were there a being in the universe that
watched for ever over your destruction. Cheer up, gallant soldiers!
and now for the long-waited developement of mighty moment. I will show
you the manner, and very mode, by which your captain must only hope to
succeed in his great enterprise."

He then touched every one of them with the divining-rod that was in
his hand, pronouncing at the same time some mystic words, which none
of them comprehended. While he was thus occupied, the witches rushed
from the hall, and as soon as he had touched the hindmost, he himself
also made his escape, and looked from a crevice of an inner wall. The
enchantment began immediately to take effect; the warriors rolled
about on the floor in strong convulsions, bellowing and flouncing,
trying always to run on all-four, and then tumbling over again. At
length their noses and chins began to grow forward in hideous
disproportion, till their heads began to assume something of the forms
of the heads of beasts, and liker to those of calves than any things
else. The laughter that pealed from loop-hole, crevice, and barbican,
was, at this eventual period, excessive. The devil, the three wicked
spirits, the great enchanter, and his conventicle of witches, seemed
all to be in convulsions at witnessing how the metamorphosed champions
shook their long heads, looked at one another, and tried to speak. How
their language changed from long-drawn words, half pronounced, to
downright confused bellowings; and how their forms, in the space of a
few minutes, gradually assumed those of as many mighty and ferocious
bulls.

"I have now given you your own proper shapes, and showed you in frames
suited to your natures," cried the Master, from a crevice.

"Pass forth, and be gone; and carry my respects to your captain."

Then there was a combined bellow of rage arose in the hall that would
have rent any castle to the top but that of Aikwood; and benches,
boards, and couches, flew about in flinders on the horns of the
furious monsters. Forthwith they rushed out into the great court, and
from that to the side of the hill, bellowing, and tearing up the
ground with hoof and horn, till the country was alarmed for many miles
round; and, believing that all hell was broke loose from the castle of
Aikwood that day, they betook them to their heels, and fled away out
of sight and out of hearing.

The outrageous drove looked back as they ascended the brae to the
eastward of the castle, and saw the devil and the great warlock,
standing on the topmost tower, laughing at them; the former appearing
of a size and dimensions equal to those of another castle. The grand
mitre that he wore on his head, shaped like a crescent to conceal his
horns, now moved like a cornuted black cloud amid the firmament; his
eyes glimmered like two of the reddest of the stars of heaven; and the
sceptre that he waved in his right hand was like a tremendous pine all
in flame, or rather like a burning aerial meteor. Our transformed
warriors gallopped away in terror as fast as cloven hoofs could carry
them, with one mighty bison, that had once been Charlie Scott, far
a-head of all the rest; for, notwithstanding of all that Charlie had
seen and heard in favours of the devil, he felt as much affrighted for
him as ever, degraded as he was in form. No wonder was it that our
tumultuous group was terrified and galloped off; for at the same time
that they saw Satan stretching out his sceptre in his right hand, he
held out Tam Craik by the nape of the neck in his left, while the poor
fellow was seen sprawling and spurning the air over an unfathomed
void. When the arch-fiend made his retreat from among the warriors
that morning, in the midst of the confusion he carried Tam off with
him, according to compact--fed him for some time on animal food of the
richest quality, which, never once satisfying him, the devil grew
weary of such a voracious cur, and twisted his neck about.

The drove was no sooner out of sight, than the Master said to one of
his pages, "Pricker, assume thou the habit that thou hadst yester-eve;
mount, and ride after these wild cattle, and deliver them over to the
charge of their dolt of a confessor. He will try to rescue them from
their present degraded and brutal forms, but he will not be able.
Spirit, thou sawest a part of the charms performed. Give him the
proper directions how to find it out before leaving him. It boots
nothing offending my kinsman, the Warden."

Pricker mounted his horse, and rode straight for the fords of
Howden-burn, where he knew the friar was awaiting his companions, and
meant to have driven them all up before him to the cottage door, where
the friar and his fair ward sojourned, and there delivered them over
to the care of these two, as a present of fine beeves from the great
Master to Sir Ringan Redhough. But before the infernal page overtook
them they were all at the door of the cottage, bellowing and kneeling,
and trying in vain to make their hard case known to the friar.

Pricker came up, and saluted the friar, who, observing his clerical
habit, returned the compliment in a hurried and careless manner--for
he was confounded by the arrival of so many mad bulls.

"Reverend brother mine," said the page, "I deliver over into thy
charge this herd of beautiful cattle, the best breed that ever roamed
the forests of Caledon. They are a present from Master Michael Scott
to his cousin the Warden of the middle marches. See that you deliver
them safe and sound."

"Lo, thou seest with thine eyes, and thou also hearest with the hearing
of the ear," said the friar, "that the creatures are outrageous, and
not to be governed by the hand of a single man. And thinkest thou a
brother of the holy order of Benedict would take a goad in his hand,
and ride forth after these bulls of Bashan? Lo, would they not even
run headlong upon my mule, and thrust their horns into his side? Thy
servant also, and this maiden, would they tread under their feet? Go
to! Thou speakest as one lacking understanding."

"I give them in charge to thee, as desired by one with whom it is
dangerous to contend," said the page; "and alongst with them this
request, that your captain will make away with them as quickly as
possible for food to his army."

At these words of the apparent sacristan there was such a roaring and
bellowing commenced among the herd, that, for the first time, the
friar began to suspect some horrid enchantment, but wist not what to
dread. The drove turned round their heads to the speaker,--shook them
in disapproval of what he had said, and joined in such a ferocious
roar against him, that it was not like ought the friar had ever
witnessed among the brute creation before. The metamorphosed troopers,
however, knew too well now who Pricker was to attack him, but,
turning again round, they came in a row, and kneeled around the friar,
looking at him with the most supplicating expressions of countenance
that ever cattle put on."

"Lo, methinks I have looked upon these wild beasts of the forest in
some of the days that are past," said the friar, "and that their
countenances are not entirely unknown to me; though when, or in what
place, in that thing my memory upholdeth me not. I pray thee, brother,
to declare unto thy servant where thou camest by these beasts of mine
acquaintance. If thou art a follower of the worthy Father Lawrence,
thou must speak the truth.--Tell me, art thou a Christian?"

The bulls gave not the infernal page time to reply. They turned about,
shook their heads, and tossed the earth at him with their horns,
raising at the same time such an outcry of rage against him that the
friar himself was afraid, and retreated within the door of the
cottage; and he thought that, amid their confused bellowings, he
could distinguish as it were these words pronounced, "He a Christian!
Away with him! Away with him!"

"Lo, what am I to understand by all this?" said the friar.

"Come near unto me, thou man of mystery, that comest like one of the
children of Esau, with thy cattle and thy herds, and tell unto thy
servant what are these?"

Pricker would not, however, come nigh the friar, but still kept his
distance; for against the friar's spiritual armour he durst not
engage; but he called out to him, in mockery, "I then declare unto
thee, O thou great magician, who camest to cope with the prince of all
magicians, Master Michael Scott, that these are thy master's yeomen
whom thou leftest with him yesterday. Now, what sayest thou? Hast thou
ever witnessed power like this?"

The friar lifted up his eyes to heaven, and tears fell down on his
dark beard. "O wretched man that I am!" cried he, "why did I leave my
children in the lion's den? yea, even in the den of the great lion.
Wo is me, that this breach hath been made among the followers of my
Master! But there is One that can yet controul all the powers of
darkness, and to Him alone must I apply without delay."

The friar went instantly to his devotions, and performed many rites of
a nature too sacred to be here minutely described; yet, after all his
exorcisms, the men could not regain their natural shapes, but lay and
rolled about on the valley in awful convulsions. The hellish page, who
had kept far aloof during the time of the friar's sacred appeal, now
came galloping near to enjoy the convulsions of the herd, and the
grief and astonishment of the friar; and after mocking for some time,
in obedience to the great wizard's command, he called to the
friar, and said, "I see he that brought about this wonderful
metamorphosis,--for which you shall one day be grateful,--can only
effect the counter-charm. Look into the manes on their foreheads, and
look narrowly;" and having said these words, he darted off towards
Aikwood with the speed of lightning.

The friar did as this flying horseman had directed, and searching the
long curled mane between the horns of the first monster that came to
his hand, he there found stitched a small scroll of parchment, neatly
rolled up, and written in blood. Then he caused them to bring him
fire, in which he burnt it, and presently there stood up at his
hand one of Sir Ringan Redhough's warriors, in all his arms and
accoutrements as he first arrived at the castle of Aikwood. "By the
life of Pharaoh!" cried the friar, "surely this excelleth all that I
beheld heretofore!"

The spell was now quickly dissolved; but no pen can do any justice to
the feelings of our amazed troopers, as they again strode the green in
their own forms and vigour, embracing the friar, and thanking him as
their deliverer. They returned back over the ridge, not without some
dreadful apprehensions, to the mill of Aikwood for their horses, but
went no more in view of the portentous castle. They found their horses
at good feed; and whenever Charlie saw Corby's skin, that glittered
like the plumes of the raven, he cried, "Aha, Corby lad, ye haena
wantit either meat or drink, ye rascal! Od ye hae fared better than
your master, ye cock-luggit glooming thief; stall up, ye dog, till I
caparison you, and then let us bound for the border."

But the most curious and least suspected of all the circumstances
attending the horses was, that Dan Chisholm's horse and those of his
three companions, that they left stabled in the deep dell above
Lindean, were all found standing at the mill among the rest. The
miller could give no farther account about them, than that a lad
brought them all tied to one another's tails, and said they belonged
to four of the baron of Mountcomyn's men that were gone to Aikwood.
"By the Lord Soules," cried Dan, "then it is true that Master Michael
Scott said of the devil being more of a gentleman than he had been
generally represented. For all the pranks he has played us, I'll think
the better of him for this the longest day I have to live. What say
you to this, friend Yardbire?"

"I shall be twenty miles off Aikwood at least afore I speak another
sentence about either him or some others that I ken o.' Mercy on us!
poor Tam Craik! What an end he has made wi' his fat bacon! Hech, but
it be a despisable thing to rin open mouth to the--I'll no mention
whae--for their greed o' meat. Some may hae gotten nae mair than what
they deserved; but as for sachless Gibbie Jordan, he has been right
hardly dealt wi'. My heart's unco wae for the poor laird, and I think
something should be done to recover him."

"Something _shall_ be done for him," said the friar, and that of such
momentous consequence, that, if his own iniquities keep him not in
bondage, all the powers of the evil one shall be unequal to the task."

After all these horrid perils of weird women and witchcraft thus
miraculously overcome, our troop rode straight on to the camp of the
Warden, and found him in the vicinity of Wooller, having come into
those parts to counteract the rising about Berwick in behalf of the
English garrison. And the time being at hand on which he must either
do or not do, either join with heart and hand in the cause of the
Douglas, or leave him to stand or fall by himself, and abide by the
consequences--his impatience for the return of his men from Aikwood
castle had been commensurate with the importance that he attached to
their mission. But when they informed him of all the wonders they had
witnessed, and the transmutations they had seen and undergone--how the
warlock and his spirits had raised the tempests, deluged the plains,
levelled the forests, and cleft asunder the everlasting mountains, the
baron was like one in a trance. It was long before they could make
themselves accredited, or impress him with any other idea than that it
was a story made up to astonish him. With the feats performed by the
friar, he was particularly pleased, and from that time forth paid him
more honour than he had ever been seen pay to man. But the precise
meaning of the destiny, read for him out of the book of fate, puzzled
and interested him most of all. It was dark and full of intricacies;
and it was not till after long consultation with wise men, as well as
women, that any thing like a guess could be formed of its tendency. By
making words and actions to coalesce, a mode of procedure was at the
last pitched on as the only one reconcileable with the predictions.
This mode will eventually appear without giving the detail at present,
and the reader will then be better able to judge whether or not the
Redhough and his sages understood the Master's signs and injunctions
properly.



CHAPTER VI.

    Here away, there away, wandering Willie,
    Here away, there away, haud away hame.

        _Old Song._


We have now performed the waggoner's difficult and tedious task with
great patience, and scarcely less discretion, having brought all the
various groups of our _dramatis personae_, up to the same period of
time. It now behoves us (that is, Isaac the curate and me,) to return
again to the leading event, namely, the siege of Roxburgh.

The state of mind to which the two commanders were now reduced was
truly pitiable. Within the castle of Roxburgh, all was sullen gloom
and discontent. In one thing, and that only, were they unanimous,
which was in a frantic inveteracy against the Scots; and though
Musgrave, with the feelings of a man, would gladly have saved those
dearest to him in life, yet he found that to have proposed such a
thing as yielding to the garrison, would have been but adding fuel to
flame in order to extinguish it. Their small supply soon began again
to wear short; and, moreover, the privations to which they were
subjected, had brought on an infectious distemper among them, of which
some died every day; but every item added to their sufferings, fell
into the scale against the Scots, and all the cruelties exercised by
the latter, in order to break the spirits of their opponents, only
militated against themselves. Opposition to the last man was a
sentiment nursed in every English bosom within the garrison, with a
brooding enthusiasm of delight. There can be no doubt that they felt
intensely for their gallant captain, considering the dismal situation
in which he stood with respect to their enemies, and the strong hold
they had been enabled to keep over his heart. It was probably the
burning intensity of these feelings that was the great source of their
unhappiness, and gave rise to the fierce spirit of dissension that
daily manifested itself. Although they detested the deed the Scots
had committed in executing Sir Richard, yet they felt his death a sort
of relief, as by it one-half of the cord which their hated adversaries
held round the breast of their commander was broken, and there is
little doubt that they wished themselves free of Lady Jane Howard, by
fair and gentle means if possible, but at all events to be rid of that
remaining tie, which almost maddened them to think of

There was one circumstance which of late was to all of them wholly
unaccountable. As the day of the Conception of the blessed Virgin
approached, the mind of Lord Musgrave, instead of becoming altogether
deranged as they had foreboded, became more and more steady and
collected. He watched over every part of the economy within that huge
fortress, and gave his orders with punctuality and decision, although
with a degree of sternness that had not previously been observed.

The dreaded day of the Conception at length arrived; and, before noon,
crowds of the citizens, and people from the surrounding country, began
to assemble around the Scottish camp. These were forcibly kept beyond
the line of circumvallation, while the regular troops were drawn up in
columns both to the east and west of the fortress, and particularly
round the gibbet on the Bush-Law. At eleven o'clock the Scottish
trumpets sounded; the English soldiers crowded to the battlements
around the western tower of the citadel, and Lord Musgrave came up
among the rest, arrayed in a splendid suit of light armour, and
gallantly attended.

These battlements and the new gibbet were, as before stated, right
opposite to one another, and separated only by the breadth of the moat
and a very small slope on the western ascent; so that every object
could be distinctly seen from the one place to the other, and, by
raising the voice somewhat, a conversation could be carried on across.
At the very time that Lord Musgrave thus appeared on the wall, the
Lady Jane Howard and Sir _Richard_ Musgrave were introduced on the
boards of the gibbet. Yes,--read it over again. I say Sir Richard
Musgrave, for it was truly he. The Douglas, seeing that he could not
prevail, and that the gallant youth was given up by his brother and
the English to his fate, could not brook the idea of losing by his
death the one-half of the influence he held over Musgrave. But that he
might try it by stretching it to the very last, he clothed another
culprit in Sir Richard's habiliments, tied a white cloth over his
face, let him stand a proclaimed space on the boards with the cord
about his neck, and, at the last moment of the given time, there being
no parley sounded for the delivering up of the keys of the fortress,
the board sunk, and the man died; but Sir Richard was safe in hold.

He was again produced that day, being the eighth of December, along
with Lady Jane. He was dressed in the suit of armour in which he
fought on the day he was taken prisoner, and Lady Jane in pure
snow-white robes, betokening her spotless virginity. Sir Richard's eye
beamed with manly courage, but the fresh hues of the rose on the
cheeks of Lady Jane had blenched, and given place to the most deadly
paleness. Both hosts were deeply affected with the sight, and on this
occasion both felt alike. There was not a heart amongst them that did
not overflow with pity at the unhappy fate of the two youthful
prisoners, whose dismal doom could now no longer be averted, unless by
a sacrifice on the part of the English, with which even the most
sanguine of the beleaguering army doubted their compliance.

The Douglas then caused a herald to make proclamation in a stentorian
voice; first stating the cause why he had put off the execution of Sir
Richard Musgrave until that day, namely, his anxious desire to
save the life of the noble youth, on the ground that the purposed
holding out of the garrison till the twenty-fourth was a chimera;
and, secondly, declaring that, unless the keys of the castle were
previously delivered up to him, precisely at the hour of noon, the
noble and gallant Sir Richard, the flower of English chivalry, should
be put down; and the beautiful and accomplished Lady Jane Howard, the
betrothed bride and devoted lover of Lord Musgrave, subjected to a
fate the most humiliating, and the most deplorable, that ever noble
maiden suffered, and that in full view of both armies. A loud murmur
of detestation sounded from the walls of the castle, but the columns
of the Scottish army stood and looked on in mute and tender sorrow.
Lord Musgrave placed himself right opposite the prisoners, turned his
face straight toward them, and gazed with an unmoved and undaunted
air. Sir Richard addressed him in the same sentiments he had formerly
expressed, the purport of which was, it will be remembered, the
madness and folly of holding out the castle, now when the bright and
unequalled prize for which he contended was lost. For his own life, he
said, he accounted it as nothing in the scale; but the fate that
awaited the lady of his love, who had shewn such devotion to his
person and interests, was not to be endured or permitted by any knight
of honour. Lady Jane cried out to him to save her from a doom before
which her whole soul shrunk; adding, that she had done much, and
suffered much, for him, and would he not make one effort, one
sacrifice, to save her?

"Lord Douglas," cried Musgrave, "Will not a formal consignment of all
my lands, titles, and privileges in the dominions of England, ransom
the lives of these two?"

"Not if they were ten times doubled," returned the Douglas: "Nor shall
any earthly thing ransom them, save the full and free possession of
the castle of Roxburgh. I have myself suffered a loss at your hands,
of which you are not aware; and I long and thirst to revenge it on you
and your house."

"Then my resolution is fixed!" cried Musgrave: "Though all England
should deprecate the deed, and though I know my brethren in arms
disapprove of it, I must and will redeem the lives of these two. Yes,
I will save them, and that without abating one iota from the honour of
the house of Musgrave. Not make one effort, Lady Jane? Not one
sacrifice to save your honour and life? Effort, indeed, I will make
none. But, _without_ an effort, I will make a sacrifice of as high
estimation for you as ever knight offered up for the lady of his love.
Perhaps it may not be in my power to save you; but in the sight
of these rival armies,--in yours my only brother and betrothed
bride,--and in the sight of heaven,--I offer the last ransom that can
be offered by man." As he said these words, he flung himself headlong
from the battlement of the western tower, struck on the mural parapet
around the lower platform, then on the rampart, from which he flew
with a rolling bound, and flashed with prodigious force into the ample
moat. There, by the weight of his armour, he sunk forthwith to rise no
more. The troops of the rival nations stood aghast, with uplifted
hands, gazing on the scene; but no more was to be seen of the gallant
Musgrave! A gurgling boil of bloody water arose above him as he sank
to the bottom,--and that was the last movement caused in this world by
one whose life had been spent in deeds of high chivalry and restless
commotion.

Excepting one shriek uttered by Lady Jane, the Douglas was the first
to break the awful silence, which he did by these words: "There fell
a hero indeed! Noble and resolute Musgrave! I cannot but envy you such
a chivalrous fate as this!" Many such expressions of enthusiastic
admiration burst from both armies, not in shouts of applause, for
these were suppressed by sorrow, but in a low and melting pathos that
bespoke the soul's regret as well as approval.

When these first expressions of feeling were over, the dark and
manly countenance of Douglas sunk into more than usual gloom and
dejection. All the advantages given him, and which he had deemed
insurmountable by his opponents, were by this desperate act of
Musgrave's extinguished. He had now no more power over the English
garrison than what he could make good with his sword and his bow. To
have executed his threats on Sir Richard, and the lovely and romantic
Lady Jane, would only have been an act of poor and despicable revenge,
which would have disgusted his own followers, and could in no degree
have furthered his cause; so he ordered them back to confinement,
with directions that they should be attended according to their rank.

What was next to be done? That was the great question. Douglas never
once conceived the idea of giving up the enterprise; for though the
princess for whom he had undertaken it was now no more, his broad
domains were all engaged. The very existence of the house of Douglas
depended on his success; and, besides, the king had more daughters,
though none like his beloved and accomplished Margaret. Therefore
Douglas had no hesitation regarding the necessity of taking the
castle. He was determined to have it. But what to do next, in order to
accomplish this determination, was the question. Circumstances were
grievously changed with him. The garrison had got a supply across the
Teviot-bridge during the time of the flood and the tempest, but the
Scots could not ascertain to what amount. Sir Thomas Musgrave had been
joined by some troops from the shores of Northumberland, and had
issued forth with these and the greater part of the garrison of
Berwick, to the amount of 5000 men, in order to make a diversion in
favour of the garrison of Roxburgh. This movement by the governor of
Berwick disconcerted the Douglas most of all. A party of these
marauders had shewed themselves on the height about Hume castle, with
trumpets sounding and colours waving in the air. From thence they
marched on, keeping the backs of the hills, until they came into the
lower parts of Leaderdale, which they harried, burning in their way
the town and castle of Ercildon. They next made a movement towards
Melrose, meaning to establish themselves in the rear of Douglas, and
either to cut off his supplies, or force him to abandon the siege, in
order to preserve his own country behind him. But when they came to
the river Tweed they were opposed by the brave abbot Lawrence, not the
feigned and infernal abbot that our yeomen left at Aikwood, but the
real worthy and apostolic Lawrence himself. He had raised all the
abbey vassals and retainers, and shewed fairly disposed to dispute
the passage of the English over the river. In the meantime he posted
message after message to Douglas, to come, or send to his assistance,
before the abbey of the holy Virgin, with all its sacred stores,
should fall into the hands of their ruthless enemies.

Douglas was hardly put to it. If he drew off from a close blockade,
the English were sure to take advantage of his absence, make a sally,
and procure plenty of more provisions; and, in that case, his only
probable hope of success was cut off. On the other hand, if he
suffered himself to be inclosed between two armies, his situation
would become every day more precarious, and perhaps in the issue quite
untenable. He was, therefore, in a manner forced to the resolution of
making an effort to join father Lawrence, and of giving the captain of
Berwick battle before he attained possession of the rich monastry of
Melrose.

The time was now arrived when the support of Sir Ringan Redhough
and his borderers was become absolutely necessary. Without their
co-operation in a more close and decisive manner than that in which
they had hitherto conducted themselves, he could not now proceed one
foot, and his great cause was ruined. He therefore dispatched a
pressing message to the chief, conjuring him as his friend and
fellow-soldier, either to come and supply his place in the blockade of
Roxburgh, or march with all expedition to Melrose, and give battle to
the governor of Berwick. The dogged and unyielding Warden returned for
answer, that it had always been his chief and undivided aim to act in
concert with his noble and gallant friend, and lord superior, the Earl
of Douglas and Mar. But that he had a peculiar charge from his
Sovereign, of the English marches, which it was his bounden duty to
attend to, prior to all other considerations. Whatever he could do
conformable with this first duty, should not be wanting. Finally, he
sent him word, as he had done formerly, "that if he coudna take the
castle, and confessed that he coudna take it, he might send word to
him, and he wad take it for him."

"What does the crabbed carle always mean by that answer?" said the
Douglas, when it was reported to him: "Perhaps he has some means of
communication with those within the fortress, some secret friend
in disguise among our enemies. Perhaps he knows of some weak or
accessible point among these extensive bulwarks, or perhaps he reckons
on some plausible means of surmounting them; for the devil's head is
not more fruitful in expedients than his. This is a matter of such
importance to me at present, that I must try to probe it to the
bottom. Were I sure that he could accomplish his boasted feat, I had
better engage him to it with one-third of my dominions; and at all
events, I must procure the active assistance of his energetic force at
present, whatever may be the equivalent required. Let my white stead
Beaver be caparisoned, and my attendants in readiness; I must have an
interview with this man of the mountains before I sleep."

The Warden had drawn his force down to Wooller, with the intention of
co-operating more effectively with the Douglas. He had heard of the
advantages that lord held over his adversaries, but nothing of the
late catastrophe by which they were all removed. Deeming therefore
that the chances were mainly on the side of the Douglas, he judged it
his safest course to act in complete concert with him. Above all, the
words out of the black book of fate had been conveyed to him as read
by the greatest magician in the world. From all that could be made out
of that mystic rhyme, after long consultation, it appeared that it
behoved the Warden and his friends to go hand in hand with Douglas.
"Rise not against feudal union--No advance but in communion," were
words hardly to be misinterpreted. The words of the prophecy, and the
ludicrous metamorphosis were all taken into account, compared,
computed, and over again computed,--and the sequel was a decisive
resolution to support the Douglas and join issues with him. But, in
the meantime, _still to make the most of a bad bargain_.

This resolution had been taken, and so far acted upon, that trusty
agents had been despatched all over the country in disguise, to
execute a portion of the great concerted plan, when the Douglas, at a
late hour in the evening, arrived in the Warden's camp. He then had
proofs experimentally of the Warden's caution and vigilance. He came
upon his outposts at a great distance from the main body of his army.
These withstood his passage, but seeing his retinue so small, for he
was attended only by two knights, a squire, and a guide, they
conducted him from one post to another, till at length they brought
him completely guarded to the Warden's head-quarters; which was
nothing more than a lowly cottage at Wooller haugh-head.

The doughty chief and his kinsmen were still sitting in earnest
conversation round a rustic table, with a tremendous torch in the
middle of it. This was nothing less than a huge broken jar full of
refined ox's tallow, and a flow peat stuck to the head in the middle,
which being kindled emitted a blaze like a fish light. The gallant
kinsmen were in deep consultation anent their grand plan of warlike
operations, and the more they conversed about it the more eligible
did it still appear to them, and the more deeply did they get
interested in it; so that when the knight in waiting announced a
stranger who requested an interview with Sir Ringan, every one seemed
disposed to refuse him admission.

"Tell him I am engaged," said the Warden.

"O yes. By all means. Tell him we are engaged," said Dickie o'
Dryhope.

"If it is another message from the Douglas, I have had enough of him,"
said the Warden.

"Ay, faith, we have had enough of him," said Dickie.

"It is perhaps from Master Michael Scott'" said Yardbire: "Or maybe
himsel, wha kens. Lord sauff us!" "D'ye think sae?" said the Warden,
starting to his feet: "That would indeed alter the case!"

"Ay, that would alter the case indeed!" said Dickie, starting to his.

"Who is he? or what is he like?" enquired the Warden.

"Ay, that is the principal thing to be attended to," said Dickie;
"What is he like?"

"He is delivered as a knight of most noble bearing and courtly
deportment," answered the knight in waiting. "I suppose we must admit
him, and hear what he has to say," said the Warden, again taking his
seat.

"O yes. By all means. Let us hear what he has to say," said Dickie,
sitting down likewise.

As the courtly and athletic form of the Lord Douglas came up the
hovel, the Border gentlemen stood all up to receive him, save Sir
Ringan, who throwing himself back on his seat, leaned his chin on his
hand, and in that indifferent posture awaited till the quality of his
guest was made manifest. But no sooner did the voice of Douglas reach
his ear, than he rose up to salute and receive him with as much ease
as if he had been his daily visitor.

"You are hard of admission, noble Sir Ringan," said he, "thus to let
your friends wait at the door of your pavilion, after riding so far in
the dark to see you."

"I am chafed with visitors from both countries every hour of the day,
Lord Douglas; many of them coming with complaints which it is out of
my power to rectify. I have therefore a sly inquisition established
around me, that might haply give your Lordship some interruption. But
it was your own blame. Had you announced the name of Douglas, that
would have opened a lane for you from my farthest outpost to this
chair, which I request you to occupy, while I take my place here at
your right hand. You are welcome, noble Earl of Douglas and Mar, to
our rude habitation. There is no man more so, beneath our sovereign
lord the King. I give you and your attendants all kind welcome and
greeting."

"You are become as much an accomplished courtier among these wild
wastes as you were before an accomplished warrior, Sir Ringan," said
Douglas.

"I always make points of speaking as I am spoken to, drinking as I am
drunk to, and going to a battle when sent for," said the Warden. "H'm
h'm h'm," neighed Dickie o' Dryhope, screwing up his mouth on one
side like a shrew: "It is all true our Captain tells you, Lord
Douglas. That's his rule. Mh? mh? Mh? H'm h'm h'm." The Douglas cast
at Dickie a curious searching glance from his dark eye that was half
hid by a shaggy eyebrow; and then turning to Sir Ringan, replied, "I
am heartily glad of it, noble Baron of Mountcomyn, it having been for
that very purpose I sought this interview with you. Sir Ringan
Redhough, you must to battle with me to-morrow."

"With all my heart, my lord," was the reply.

"Come, that is as it should be. We'll no more of it. We _can_ have no
more of it," said Douglas: "Let us have a flaggon of your best wine to
drink success to our arms."

The wine was soon produced, with plenty of other good cheer, with
which the Warden's camp was then abundantly stored; and the two chiefs
conversed together with as much freedom, and as little apparent
jealousy with regard to rank or fame, as if they had been two
brothers. The Douglas delineated his affairs as in that posture in
which success could not fail him; at the same time he admitted the
ticklish situation in which he stood, owing to the diversion made by
the captain of Berwick, and that without an instant effort he would be
inclosed between two fires. Sir Ringan answered, that he had heard of
the incursion, and therefore he had drawn his troops down from the
dales of Northumberland to support his friend and firm ally in any
case of necessity; and he concluded by boldly proffering either to
supply the Douglas's place in the blockade, or march to the west, and
hold Sir Thomas Musgrave in check. Douglas was delighted to find the
crabbed, cross-grained Warden, as he was wont to call him, in such a
complaisant humour; and testified that delight by many well-turned
compliments and encomiums on his vigilance and gallant support. He got
introduced to all the gentlemen of the party, with whom he exchanged
civilities, desiring them all to regard him as their friend, and one
ready to do them a kindness whenever it lay in his power. "And now,
Sir Ringan, since you hold the taking of the castle of Roxburgh so
light," said he, "I think it is meet that my men and I should march
and give battle to Musgrave. Probably you may have taken possession of
that troublesome garrison before we return."

"If I do, my Lord of Douglas, I take it for myself," replied Sir
Ringan; "and claim all the privileges, rights, and immunities that
were to devolve on you as the reducer of it. Now, if I should take the
castle of Roxburgh before your return, I suspect you would find it as
hard work to expel me, and these Border warriors of mine, as the
half-starved English that you have there already. I have all these
brave fellows to hold in beef and malt, my Lord of Douglas; and for
their sakes I have laid down a golden rule to walk by, which is, _To
do nothing for nothing_. If I take the castle of Roxburgh, I take it
for myself and them."

Douglas, who knew nothing of the prophecy and injunctions from the
book of the destinies of men, became more convinced than ever, that
the Warden knew of some flaw or some tangible point in the garrison;
and if there existed a knowledge of such a thing, he resolved to avail
himself of it by any means. He knew Sir Ringan too well to suppose he
would confide his secret to him, without a certainty of reaping due
advantage; and that, therefore, it behoved to give him a prevailing
interest in it. With this view, he answered him, jocularly: "Though
you were to receive all that was promised to me, in the event of my
success, you would probably find yourself only a loser by the
guerdon."

"Why, are you not to be made the king's son-in-law," replied Sir
Ringan? "and thereby the first subject, or rather the first man of the
realm; for, by the indolence and retired habits of our sovereign, you
would have the whole kingdom at your beck. Call you this nothing, my
Lord? Or would it be fair and reasonable,--supposing the thing
possible, which I do not pretend to say it is,--that if my warriors
and I should put you in possessession of all this power, riches, and
honours, would it be fair, I say, that we should be again turned out
to these Border wastes, to live by our shifts, without reaping any
thing of the benefit?"

"Should you take the castle for me, in my absence, noble Sir Ringan,
your reward shall be of your own naming."

"Would it not be better, Lord Douglas, that the reward were settled
before-hand; and, then, I lose or gain at my own risk and peril. If I
deliver you no produce, I ask no pay."

"And what is the reward Sir Ringan would ask for such a piece of
incalculable service?"

"My choice of seven baronies on the West Border, to divide amongst
these gentlemen commoners, to whose support I owe every thing."

"You are a master worth serving, brave Sir Ringan. But such a grant
would break my power on the Border for ever."

"It is that your power on the Border _may not_ be broken for ever,
Lord Douglas, that I make the proffer. I am safer without the
venture. But you are a day's march nearer to the English army,--draw
off your men silently before the break of day, and march against it. I
shall supply your place at the blockade, to the west of the castle,
without loss of time, and answer to you at your return for all ingress
or egress that takes place in that division. If Sir Thomas proves hard
for you, you have only to keep your men together, and fall back toward
the entrenchments. You shall find you have some good back-friends
there."

Douglas had determined on no account to let this proffer of the
Warden's ingenious head and powerful arm in the taking of the fortress
pass without trial; so, without more ado, he called for the friar's
tablets, and made out a grant to Sir Ringan, in free present, of the
barony and lands of Gilterscleuch, and his choice of seven of the best
baronies belonging to the house of Douglas in the districts adjoining
to the West Border, in the event of his putting James, Lord of Douglas
and Mar, in full possession of the castle of Roxburgh. This grant
signed and sealed, the Douglas departed, after pledging the Warden and
his friends in a hearty stirrup cup, both chiefs being alike well
pleased with the agreement they had entered into. The Douglas posted
back to Roxburgh, and reached it just in time to put the western
division of his army in motion at break of day; while Sir Ringan made
his musters by the light of the moon, and marched off to the siege of
Roxburgh.



CHAPTER VII.

    Aboon his skins he sat and rockit,
    And fiercely up his bonnet cockit;
    Then at ha' doors he crousely knockit
                  Withouten dread,
    Till wives and bairns around him flockit,
                  But now he's dead.

    Then he wad claw, and he wad hustle,
                  Till all the skins played rap and rustle;
    While up his thighs, wi' devilish bustle,
                  Ran mony a ked;
    Now they hae lost their eume and gustle,
                  Sin' Robin's dead.

    De'il on the yaud, that I should ban!
    That brak the neck of sic ane man;
    Now wha will wucked dames traupan
                  Wi' siccan speed?
    Or drive the hides to them wha tan,
                  Sin' Robin's dead?

        _Rob Paterson's Elegy._


On the same day that Douglas marched his men up the Tweed towards
Melrose, and the Warden his troopers across the Border to the siege of
Roxburgh, a band of twelve men and thirty horses came up out of
Eskdale towards Craik-Cross, the most motely group that had ever been
seen traversing that wild country. The men were dressed as English
peasants of the lowest order, with broad unshapely hats, made of a
rude felt of wool and hair mixed; wide coarse jockey-coats that came
below their knees; and, instead of loops or buttons, these were bound
round the middle with a broad buff-belt; the rest of their dress was
all conformable, save that each of them had a noble broad-sword
girded by his side. Some of their horses were loaden, some of them
half-loaden, and a few had scarcely any thing on their backs at all.
But no man will guess what that loading consisted of. Not to keep the
reader in suspense, it was of _nolt-hides_; that is, of cow-hides,
oxen-hides, bull-hides, and all sorts of hides that ever came from the
backs of cattle. There were raw hides and dried hides, black hides and
white hides, hides with horns, and hides without horns; and of these
consisted their loading, and nothing else.

The men alighted at Craik-Cross to bait their horses, and the
following conversation ensued, which will let the reader into the
secret who these skin-dealers were, thus strangely accoutred.

"Will Laidlaw o' Craik, ye're a gayan auld-farrant chield. Come near
me, and sit down, and tell me gin ye can hae ony guess what our master
the Warden can be wanting wi' a' thir confoundit ill-smelled hides?"

"I hae puzzled my brain to nae purpose about it, Dan Chisholm; but am
convinced it is some way connected wi' the siege of that unlucky
castle; and the maist part o' us trows that they are for making
raip-ladders, or rather whing-ladders, for climbing ower the wa's; an
gin that be the case, Dan, there will mony ane o' us throw away our
lives to little purpose."

"Now to hear you talk about fock throwing away their lives! You that
wad risk your life for naething but a broken crown every day o' the
year. Why, Will Laidlaw, I hae foughten often in the same field wi'
you afore this time, and I never saw you set your life at a cow's
horn, let be the hide o' ane (for whilk we wad gie a good deal the
day.) I hae seen ye ride from your ain party, when that wing wasna
hotly enough engaged, and blatter into the very thickest and hettest
part o' the field, just girning and laying on like some lang-nosed
deil come out o' the pit. But let me tell ye, Will o' Craik, it is a
sair fault o' your's, and it is a clagg o' the hale clan,--the deil be
your landlord, (as he has already been mine, quietly,) gin the hale
tott o' ye be nae ill for saying ae thing an' thinking another. If ane
hear a Laidlaw complaining of pinching and poverty, ye may amaist be
sure that he has the best stockit mailings, and the best filled
beef-barrels in the country. If ye hear him complaining, that the
English are herrying the Scots up, stoop and roop, ye may rely on it
the Scots hae been getting the upper hand and enriching themsels; and
and if ye hear a Laidlaw pretending to be averse to a foray or a
battle, ye may depend on it that his very knuckles are itching, and
his teeth watering, to be at it.--Na, ye needna waul wi' your muckle
een, Will, for ye canna deny the thing; and it is a d--n'd provoking
gate ye hae."

"Hout, dear Dan! we just hae it by kind to try what fock thinks on the
subject a wee; to sound them like, afore we tell our hale minds. But
a' comes aye freely out ere the hinder-end. But the truth is, about
this that we were cracking, ye ken. I dinna mind a bodle what the
Warden be gaun to do wi' the skins, provided he keep his promise, and
gie me a living English cow for the hides of every three dead anes
that I bring him."

"There it goes now! There you go again! Weel I ken ye carena ae doit
about the kye. Ye hae plenty o' baith kye and ewes already, and, on
the contrary, ye wad _gi'e them a'_ to ken what our chief is gaun to
be about wi' thir hides. But it is needless to fight w'ye! Ye canna
help that cross gate o' expressing yoursel. Gin ever ye be drowned we
may seek you up the water. There's ae thing, Will,--ye may see the
Warden means some general good to us a' by this project, whatever it
is, for he has sent ae man o' every name to gather up the skins o' his
native district. Ae Oliver, ae Armstrong, ae Laidlaw, ae Chisholm,
and twa o' the Redhoughs; for ye ken he is always maist behadden to
his ain name. But what can be the meaning o' this ugly disguise, I
canna form a single conjecture; and he is sae strick about it too,
that if ane o' us let oursels be found out, we lose a' chance of
reward or advantage. Sae, Will, ye're unco weel kend about Craik
and Howpasley, and a' the links o' Borthwick, and so am I about
Castle-Wearie and Chisholm, and thereabouts. Gang ye into my father's
house a' night, and I'll gang to Craik; gather ye up the hides o'
Teviot, and I shall take Borthwick in my road. My father will maybe be
a wee sweer to take ye in, but ye maun make your way on him the best
gate ye can; he has the best stockit pantry on Teviot head, but a bit
of a Laidlaw's fault, complaining aye maist when he has least reason.
He has a capital stock o' hides, but seeing that English disguise he
may deny them; therefore try him first, and if he winna produce them,
gang up the burn about half a mile, and in a lown crook, weel hidden
frae a' the world, ye'll find a bit housie wi' a dozen o' good hides
in it. If he winna gi'e you them at a fair price, ye maun e'en take
them for naething, as it is a' for his ain advantage."

"Na, na, Dan. Weel I wat I'll do nae sic thing! I wadna dispute wi'
the auld man, nor anger him for a' the hides in the hale barony."

"There again! Aye the auld man! Now, the Lord forgi'e ye; for ye never
met wi' him a' your life but ye baith angered him and disputed wi'
him. But nae mair about it. Take ye Sandy Pot o' the Burnfit, the
queer hairum skairum devil, Tam Oliver, Bauldy Elliot, and Bauldy
Armstrong wi' you; and I'll take Jamie Telfer o' the Dodhead, Jock o'
the Delorrin, Jock Anderson o' nae place, and Geordie Bryden o' every
place, wi' me,--and good luck to the skin trade!"

It was one of those sort of winter days that often occur in January,
when the weather is what the shepherds call "in the deadthraw," that
is, in a struggle between frost and thaw. There was a dark cloud of
rime resting on the tops of the hills, which shrouded them in a veil
impervious to vision beyond the space of a few yards, and within that
cloud the whole height appeared to be covered with millions of razors,
every pile of bent and heath being loaded with ice on the one side, so
that each had the exact resemblance to a razor blade, all of which
appeared to be cast in the same mould, and of the same beautiful
metal. The feet of the horses as they travelled through this made a
jingling noise, as if they had been wading among crystal. As they came
lower down on the hills the air became softer, and the ground was free
of those ice-candles; but an uncommon gloom hung over holm and dale.

Old Peter Chisholm was walking on the green to the westward of his
house, looking at his ewes coming bleating down from among the dark
foldings of the rime, and saying to himself, "I wonder what can be
word o' thae dirty herd callants the day, that they are letting the
sheep come a' stringing in lang raws, and rairing and bleating, into
the how o' the water that gate. The country's in a loose state e'now,
for the strength is a' out o't; a raid o' thirty stout English thieves
wad herry the hale water. An sic were to come this gate the day, my
stock wad be a' gane."

Peter was proud of his ewes for all that, and, giving them a whistle,
he threw the plaid over his shoulder, set his broad bonnet up before,
and turned about to go home to look after the shepherd lads. As he
turned his face to the north, he naturally cast his eye up toward the
Limycleuch hills, where it instantly embraced the appalling sight of
Will Laidlaw o' Craik, and his disguised compeers, with their fifteen
horses, coming stretching down the ridge, right opposite to Pate
Chisholm's hirsel of bonny wheel-horned ewes. The old man's eyes were
dazzled in his head, and a paralytic affection seized his whole frame.
"Lord pity us! Now see what's coming yonder," said Peter: "I tauld
them aye what wad happen! but no ane wad heed me! O dool to the day! A
man may soon hae muckle, and soon hae naething in this wearifu'
country. O Dan, Simon, and Jock, the strength o' my house! wherefore
are ye a' gane and left your gear to gang as it came! Dear bought!
far sought! and little for the haudding."

By the time Peter got thus far with his soliloquy he was quite out of
breath; for he was not only walking fast, but he was absolutely running
towards home, with a sore stoop, and knees bent much forward. Still as
he hobbled he continued to apostrophise in short sentences, as he could
gather a little breath now and then to utter a small portion of the
concatenation of repulsive ideas that presented themselves one after
another--"Naething but trash left--Heh-heh--Rob-in-Laid-law!--I
hae seen--Heh-heh the--day, but--Heh--that's--gane,--Lasses,
too!--Hoh--oh!--O ay!--Half--breed--bring--up--Oh--Dan--Dan, &c. &c.
Daughter! Bessy Chisholm--Heh! Are ye therein? May Chisholm--where's
your titty? Poor tafferel ruined tawpies! What are ye gaun gaindering
about that gate for, as ye didna ken whilk end o' ye were uppermost?"
"That's easily kend father. What has come ower ye? Hae ye seen a warlock
that ye are gaping and glowring at sic a dismal rate?" "War than ony
warlock, ye twa glaikit idle hizzies. Off wi' jerkin and wilycoat, and
on wi' doublet, breeks, and buskins instantly. Belt on bow, buckler, and
brand, and stand for life, limb, gear, and maidhood, or a's gane in ae
kink. O dool be to the day! dool be to the day! What are ye standing
glinting, and looking at ane anither there for? Cast your een up to the
Carlin-rigg, and see what's coming. A' harried! ravaged! and murdered!
Come, come: Don your billies' claes; let us make some show; it will
maybe save something. Warn the herd callants; let the stoutest of them
arm, and the weakest rin and drive sheep and cattle an' a' out o' sight
amang the clouds. O dool to the day! Na, na; for a' the houses that are
in the country here they come straight! Nae winning by this place."

The lasses seeing their father in such a querulous mood, and the
motely troop fast approaching, acquiesced in his mandate, and without
delay mounted themselves each in a suit of their younger brother's
clothes, while old Peter stood over them to see that they put all to
rights, always giving such directions as these: "Come, come, come!
strap, clasp, belt and buckle; and gude-sake fauld up your cuffs. Your
arms hing at your shoulder blades as they were off joint. Hout fie!
hout fie! Wha ever saw young chields hae sic luchts o' yellow hair
hingin fleeing in the wind? Come, come, strap and string down; swaddle
it round wi' sax dizzen o' wheelbands, and fasten a steel-belted fur
cap ower aboon a'. Yare, yare! Lord sauff us! Here they come! What's
to be our fate? Keep close for a wee while."

"Hilloa! Wha hauds the house!" was vollied from the door by the
deep-toned voice of Will Laidlaw.

"There's nae body in but me, and I downa come to the door. Ye had
better ride on," cried old Peter, in a weak tremulous voice.

"Wilt thou answer to thy name, or hast thou a name to answer to?" said
Will, feigning to speak the broad Northumberland dialect, which sorted
very ill with his tongue: "An thou be'st leel man and true, coome and
bid thee guests wailcome. It is God speed, or spulzie wi' thee in
three handclaps."

"Spulzie, quo the man!" exclaimed Peter: "The muckle fiend spulzie the
unmannerly gab that spake it!"--and with that he came stooping over
his staff, and coughing to the door, speaking in a quavering treble
key. "A bonny like purpose! What wad ye spulzie frae a poor auld man
that hasna as muckle atween him and the grave as will pay for howking
it, and buy a hagabag winding sheet? Spulzie, quo he! That is a good
joke!--he--he--he, (cough) hoh--hoh--hoh. I'm sae ill wi' that host!
Eh? wha hae we a' here? Strangers, I think!

"Goodman, we were directed to your house for a night's entertainment
or two, if you are the old rich yeoman ycleped Patrick Chisholm of
Castle-Weary."

"Na, na! I'm nae rich yeoman! I'm naething but a poor herried,
forsaken, reduced auld man! I hae nae up-putting for ought better than
a flea. Ye had better ride on down to Commonside. There's plenty
there baith for man and horse. Come away, I'll set you down the length
o' the ford, and let ye see the right gate."

"Come neighbours, let us go away as he says, We'll never make our
quarters good on this auld carle," said Sandy Pot, in a whisper to his
companions: "And troth do ye ken I wad rather lie at the back of the
dike, before I imposed myself on ony body. Od my heart's wae for the
poor auld niggard."

"Come away, lads, come away," cried Peter. "The days are unco short
e'now; ye haena time to put off."

"Stop short there, my good fellow," cried Laidlaw, "We have some other
fish to fry with you before we go. I am informed you have a large
stock in hand of the goods in which we deal. You have had lucky lifts
this year. Plenty of good hides with you?"

"Rank misprision, and base rascally jests on a poor auld man. Not a
single hide about the hale town, foreby the ane on my back," cried old
Peter.

"My orders are, worthy old yeoman, to give fair prices to such as
produce their hides," said Laidlaw. But whoever refuses, I am obliged
to search for them; and if I find any I take them at my own price."

"O dear, honest gentlemen, I downa joke wi' ye: hoh, hoh," coughed
Peter. "Gin ye be for a place to stay in a' night, come away as lang
as it is daylight."

"Why, with your leave my good fellow, we must lodge with you to-night.
Hearth-room and ha'-room, steed-room and sta'-room, is the friendly
stranger's right here. Small things will serve: a stone of English
beef or so, and two or three pecks of oats."

"Beef, quoth the man? Ye may as weel look for a white corby as beef in
my pantry, or aits in my barn. Will ye no come away."

"Not till I makes a search for your nolt hides, honest yeoman. To that
am I bound."

The four skin-dealers next the door alighted and went in, leaving
their horses with the other two, who went and put them up in a good
large stable with plenty of stalls. Peter ran back to the house in
perfect agony, speaking to himself all the way. "They are very
misleared chaps thae. They maun surely either be Low Dutch, or else
sutors o' Selkirk, that they are sae mad about skins. I little wat how
I am to get rid o' them."

The two lasses appeared armed cap-a-pee like two young men; and though
Bess was Will Laidlaw's own sweetheart, he did not recognize her
through the disguise, neither did she once suspect him. The two made a
little swaggering about the _pelt-dealers_ as they called them
entering the pantry, but not choosing to measure arms with them, the
weak suffered the strong to pass; and Will having his cue, soon
discovered the huge barrels of beef below the ground, with empty ones
above them. Old Peter shed tears of vexation when he saw this huge and
highly-valued store was all discovered, but had not a word to say for
himself, save now and then "A' fairly come by, and hardly won; and
there is nae right nor law that says honest men should be eaten up wi'
sorners. May ane speir where ye come frae, or by wha's right ye do
this!"

"Why man dost thou no hear and dost thou no see that we're coome joost
from Nworthoomberland!"

"Aha!" thought Peter to himself; "English thieves after a! I had some
hopes that I could distinguish Scots tongues in their heads. But a's
gane, a's gane!"

"Now auld yeoman, if thou hast a word of trooth in thee, tell us where
the hides are, and we will pay thee for them."

"No ae hide about the town. No ane, either little or muckle."

"Why soore am I them coos doodnae coome to thee withoot heydes, did
they? That I can answer for, they had a' heydes and bonns baith when
they came from hwome."

"Waur than ever! Waur than ever!" exclaimed Pate Chisholm to himself
as he sought another apartment: "The very men that the kye were reaved
frae come to take revenge! Callant, come here and speak wi' me. Haste
to a neighbour's house, and raise the fray. We shall never be a'
quietly put down wi' half a dozen."

"Dearest father," said May, "I dinna think the men mean ony ill, if
ye wad be but civil."

"Civil or no civil, wench, it is as good to have half a dozen armed
men lying concealed near us," said Peter: "An we dinna need them, the
better. Rin your ways, and gar raise a' the auld men and the young
lads in the two neist towns, for there is nae ither left. Pith's good
in a' play."

The maid did as she was ordered, and Peter, seeing that no better
would be, tried to compel himself to a sort of civility, which,
however, sat on him with a very bad grace. But, hides! hides!--nothing
but hides was the burden of their enquiries; while Peter durst not for
his life produce the hides, deeming that every man would know the
hides of his own kine, and wreak tenfold vengeance on himself and
household. He knew not, he said, what his son Dan, who took care of
all these matters, had made of them,--sold them he supposed to the
curriers and sutors of Selkirk,--and more than this Pate would not
acknowledge. There was no other thing for it, nor perhaps did Laidlaw
want any thing else, than for him and his companions to walk up the
burn and make a seizure of the whole of Peter's excellent hides, with
which they returned loaden to his dwelling. His confusion and distress
of mind were most appalling when Laidlaw spread them all out before
him, and asked in a very particular manner to be informed where he had
got them. O! Peter knew nothing about them. They were not his at all.
He did not know to whom they belonged. But he would not stand to
speak, turning his back always on the men, and hasting away, coughing
and speaking to himself. He could have seen these presumptuous
skin-men roasted on a brander, for they had now put him out of all
patience, and all hope!

"Pray thee now, mine good friend, inform me this," said Laidlaw;
"Did'st thou nwot get this seame fleckered one, and this brwoad one
here, on the third of the last mwonth; and here's wother three, did'st
thou nwo get them on the twentieth of the seame mwonth? Now tell me
this I say? Why where is thou gwoing groombling inte theesel? Turn
about thee feace to the heydes, and answer to the pwoint."

"Aff hands is fair play," said old Pate: "I winna be forced wi' ony
unmannerly English lown that ever I saw atween the een;" and with that
he heaved his staff and struck Laidlaw across the shoulders, and over
the steel bonnet repeatedly, who was like to burst with repressed
laughter, but still persisted in his queries.

"What ails the owld catwiddied carle," said he, "that he winno answer
a ceevil question? I's jwost wanting to tauk to thee aboot boosiness,
and thou flees out in a reage and breaks me head. Come tourn again,
and tell me when and where thou got'st this one, see, this wheyte one
here! What's 't moombling at? Wolt thou tell me the price of them,
then?"

"I want to hae naething to do wi' you, and as little to say to you;
therefore, gang about your business, and dinna plague a poor auld
unfeiroch man. The gate is afore ye, and your company's wanted
elsewhere."

Will would take none of those hints; he followed his uncourteous host
about and about, till at last he fairly holded him beyond the fire;
and then he took his seat over against him and conversed on, while his
companions dropped in one by one and joined in it. For a while they
got it all to themselves, but at length Pate, not being able to make
better of it, suffered himself to be drawn in by degrees to join them,
still preserving the same strain of disingeniousness. They asked who
the two handsome striplings were that attended him, and spread the
board with provisions? He answered that they were two sons of his own.
"Sons of thine?" said Laidlaw, "Whoy, what are their neames?" "Simon
and John," answered he; "or rather Sim and Jock, for that's how we ca'
them."

"Whoy, mon, that is the queerest thing I ever heard," said Laidlaw:
"Then thou hast two swons of the neame of Jock, and other two of the
neame of Sim, for I saw two of that neame, strapping youths, in the
Warden's camp."

Peter wist not well what answer to make; and, therefore, only added,
"Ay, Ay! Were you in the Warden's camp? Then tell me, is their ony
word frae my son Dan?"

"Ay man, I can tell thee sic news of Dan as thou never heard'st; he
has sitten at his supper hand and neive wi' the deil." At these words
one of the young men behind them (May Chisholm to wit,) uttered a
suppressed scream, and from that moment Will Laidlaw smelled a rat,
and soon discovered his own beloved Bess Chisholm standing gazing at
him as he related the wonderful story of her brother's adventures with
the devil, the warlock, and the three evil spirits; of his race
with those infernals along the marble pavement of the air; his
transformation into a horned beast; and of his eating and drinking
with the prince of darkness. But the two striplings were most of all
shocked at hearing of the devil's burning stomach, and how the wine
_fizzed_ as it went down.

After listening and wondering while all these things were in relation,
Bess said to the skin-dealer next to her, who chanced to be Sandy Pot,
"Pray, Sir, when you were in the camp of Sir Ringan Redhough, did you
note a brave trooper, a friend of ours, named Laidlaw?"

"Oh, yes, that I did," said Sandy: "I know him well." This was a
glorious joke for Pot, and his comrades were afraid he would persevere
in it till he put their secret out altogether.

"How is he reported in the army?" said she: "Is it still alleged that
he is the bravest and most successful battler in the baron's array?"

"_Bottler_, I suppose you mean," said Sandy, "for as to his battling,
God mend that. He is not noted for ought that I ever heard of, except
for keeping a flunkey, or a wall-i'-the-chamber, as the Frenchmen ca'
it; and it is reported thro' all the army, that that _wally_ o' his is
an English girl. I can tell you that your neighbour, Will Laidlaw, is
notorious for nothing else beside this."

"It is false as thyself, and thy perjured ungenerous nation," said the
disguised maiden. "I know my friend to be honour's self, and of a
house whose courage and integrity were never called in question. The
man that dares to slander him had better do it somewhere else than in
my presence, and under my father's roof. But I degraded him myself, by
putting his name into the mouth of such a mean forager as thou art!
The man whose actions are base, always accuses the brave and generous
of deeds such as his own."

"Bless me, what ails the chiel?" said Sandy, laughing good
humouredly:--"What's the great ill o' keeping _a wally_? I aince
keepit ane mysel, there's nae doubt o't, till my uncle, Gideon Scott,
set up his birse, and gart me part wi' the creature."

The rest laughed at Sandy being put out of countenance by the
indignant stripling; but Bessy Chisholm turned on her heel, and walked
out at the door, muttering expressions about vulgarity, raw hides, and
maggots; and Will Laidlaw, not able to contain himself, rose and
walked out after her, in a visible state of mental agitation. As he
approached the stable door quietly, into which she had turned, he
heard her saying to herself. "Laidlaw keep an English mistress in
disguise! No, the fellow is a poltroon, and a liar, and I will not
believe it." Will entering at that moment, seized her hand between
both his, and kissed it, saying, in a passionate style, "My own dear
and high-spirited Bess Chisholm still!"

Never was there seen such a statue of amazement! The tones of the
voice, now uttered in its natural key, were familiar to her. But the
figure that uttered them! To be addressed in that style by a great
burly thief of an English skin-buyer, outwent all comprehension. She
was in a man's dress, be it remembered,--and there she stood, with her
face half raised, her ruddy lips wide apart, and her set eyes of
lucent blue showing a mixture of astonishment and disdain. "What?
what? Sir," was all that she could say, until the ragamuffin figure
reminded her of the weaponshaw at Mountcomyn, and some love-tokens and
vows, of which none knew save one. But, with a woman's natural
caprice, she now was angry at him in turn having discovered her true
sentiments, and refused to acknowledge him as her lover in that
hateful disguise, unless the meaning of it was explained to her. He
told her, that the meaning of it was unknown to himself; that he took
it at his captain's command; but that his fortune depended on the
secret being kept.

"There you are safe, at all events," said she; "and it is well you
have disclosed yourself in time, for my father has raised the country,
and it is not improbable that, before to-morrow, you should have been
all dead men."

"I think we have been in greater jeopardies," said he: "But in the
mean time keep up your disguise, that my comrades may not discover
your sex;--and we two must have some private discourse during the
night, for I have much to say to you."

"Not I, master, I winna court ae word wi' a man in the dress of a
vulgar English boor; for it is sae hatefu' to me, I can like nought
that's within it. Ah me! I wot ill how it is; but I think I hardly
detest it sae sair already."

"My bonny, haughty, pawkie, sweet Elizabeth!" cried Laidlaw.--But
Isaac the curate says, that, being himself a married man, he could
not go on with all the overcharged outrageous stuff that passed
between these two fond lovers; so he passes it over, as well as the
conversation at their evening meal, which Bess took care to make a
plentiful and savoury one; and in the mean time, she was in such high
spirits herself, that the troopers, who did not know her, took the
young man for the most swaggering puppy they had ever seen. She
challenged Sandy Pot to fight her with single rapier, knowing well
that Laidlaw would find some means of preventing it; but it was
evident that old Peter thought her entirely out of her senses, for he
tried to get her away from about the house to the residence of one of
the neighbouring gentlemen yeomen for the night, but the experiment
was vain.

When he saw such a goodly supper, or dinner, (for they were both in
one,) set down to these uncouth, and, to him, unwelcome guests, he
could not contain his chagrin, and at first refused to turn out to
the board, or partake with the rest. But when he saw that the good
fare would all go, he grew as restless as if he had been sitting on
pins, till Bess, who knew his way, took him by the arm, and pretended
to force him jocularly out to the table. But Peter was not ill to
force; for in place of receding, he made all the haste into the head
of the board that he could, though at the same time always repeating,
"I tell ye, callant, it is downright wastery." He, however, plied as
good a knife and as good a horn-spoon as any of them all.

While they were yet busily engaged at their meal, the tramp of horses
was heard approaching the door in a cautious and uncertain manner, and
by a circuitous way. The two disguised maids, (whom, by-the-by, we
should distinguish by the names of Sim and Jock, as they sustained
these that night,) were standing eating at the hall-dresser, behind
the backs of the troopers; and when the trampling was first heard,
Jock grew as pale as death, but Sim, who knew what guests were
within, which the other did not know, shewed a courage so undaunted,
that it appeared wonderful to all present, save one, but to Jock in
particular: "O ho! The nearer night the mae beggars," cried Sim. "Who
have we next?"

"That beats ought I ever heard in my life!" exclaimed Pate: "I think
the fock be gane distractedly mad! What brings them a' here? Is there
no another ha' house and pantry in the hale country but mine? It is
hard to be eaten out o' house and hald wi' sorners and stravaegers
this gate. May Liberton's luck befa' the hale o' them. Callant Jock,
set by that meat out o' sight." "Stop for a wee bit, an ye like,
goodman," said Bauldy Armstrong: "It is best aye to do ae thing afore
another."

By this time the dialogue had commenced in the court; Simmy went
briskly to the door by himself, and demanded of the strangers who they
were, and what they wanted? They answered, with hesitation, that they
supposed they had lost their way, and requested to know who held the
house, and how it was called? "The house is held by my father, a leel
Scottish yeoman," said the youth; "and already full of strangers to
the door, as well as every stall of his stable with their horses. Pass
on your way, and peace be with you." "Did not I tell you we had _lost_
our way," said the first speaker, riding up to the door. "Pray, who
are the strangers within? We have lost a party of our friends."

"The men are from the south, master: free-traders, they may be called.
Men of horns, hides, and hair, Sir. You, I suppose, are of the same
profession?" "Precisely of the same," said the stranger, alighting
from his horse, and entering the house.

He was followed by other two, for there were but four in all, and the
fourth was a a boy whom they left holding their horses. When they came
in upon Peter and his jolly hide-merchants, they were visibly
disappointed, and viewed the grotesque-looking group with marked
curiosity. These were not the men they expected to have found, that
was evident; but perceiving their English habits, they ventured to
address them. They were answered in blunt cutting terms; for our
troopers knew, although the disguise prevented their being known
again. Having learned the name of the house and its owner, they began
forthwith to inquire if any thing of a young nobleman had been seen at
that place, with such and such attendants; for they had traced them to
that very house, they said, and if the possessors could give no
account of them they would be held as responsible. Old Peter said,
there were so many people came to that house, that it was impossible
he could tell a tale of one of them distinct from another; but the
intrepid Sim, knowing his back friends, told him the whole story in a
few words, and then asked them in turn what they had to say concerning
it.

"Whoy, I has joost to say this, young chap, that I am to boond thee
and all the faymilie, and carry you all to answer before a meeting of
the wardens."

"Ay, and it is prwoper reyght and prwoper reason too, that they
should, friend," said Laidlaw, pretending to take his part, to see
what he would say. Will knew the three men to be three notorious
English thieves, of the set of the Halls and Reids, and that they
could not, in fact, be sent in search of the Lady Jane Howard; but he
could not divine their motive for coming there, or making the inquiry;
therefore he took the Northumberland tongue as well as he could, and
encouraged them in conversation till a late hour. Yet he could learn
nothing; only he was sure they were come about no good end. As for old
Peter, when he saw two parties of Englishmen come upon him, and heard
that they laid their heads together, he gave himself and all that he
had up for lost; and hoping to conciliate their favour in some
measure, he actually intreated these last comers to sit down and share
of the remnants of their supper, which they did in a right liberal
manner, while Peter went out and in to learn the news. He found by
this time nine men, well armed, assembled in the barn, that had
gathered from the neighbouring houses, whose inhabitants were all
bound to rise and assist one another on any emergency. These were
mostly old men or very young ones, the flower of the Border districts
being all in the Warden's camp. Will likewise informed his sweetheart
privately of his suspicions; and perceiving that the strangers were
extremely well mounted, and heavily armed, he desired her, if
possible, to find means of concealing their horses. This the supposed
Sim soon effected. The boy still held them at forage by the side of
the old castle-wall; and he being brought in, and set down to supper,
some of those in the barn were warned to take the horses quietly to
the concealed house up in the hollow burn. They were soon secured
there; and the thieves perceiving that no one left the house, never
had the smallest suspicion of any trick, the boy being fast asleep
behind the board. At length all of them grew drowsy, andbegan to
compose themselves to rest as they best could, save two fond lovers,
that were whispering their vows and their secrets to each other in the
little chamber mentioned in a former part of this history.

About midnight, when all was quiet, these two heard the cry of
_Welhee!_ _Welhee!_ from a neighbouring mountain, which in a short
time was returned from two different places in the valley.

"Now, I will lay my neck in wad," whispered Will to his sweetheart,
"that there is a thief-raid to-night; and that these three have either
come here to watch you, or to cut your throats in case of resistance;
or perhaps they may have indeed lost their party in the mist. But this
I ken, neither a Reid nor a Hall ever came thus far into Scotland for
good. If the fray rise, take you the command, and fear nothing. My
friends and I will defend you, and clear your way."

"But what shall we do, dear Laidlaw, with these three moss-troopers
and the boy?"

"We must either slay or bind them the first thing we do, or perhaps
leave them to waddle to the hills in their armour on foot the best way
they can."

The maiden's heart trembled at the thoughts of what lay before her; as
for old Pate, he kept going out and in like a restless spirit; and if
he had not lost his daughter, and knew not where she was, he proposed
to have fastened doors and windows, and burnt all the nine Englishmen
where they lay, for he had no faith in any of them, and weened them
all come for the purpose of ruining him. As he was going about
preparing matters for this laudable purpose, one of the shepherd lads
came with the fray, and related a dismal tale. He said, that he and
his companions had driven out all the sheep and cattle to the heights
among the mist, as they had been commanded; that in the course of the
evening they heard many calls and whistles around them; and just as
the moon rose, a band of English thieves came round them, and drove
them all off towards Bilhope-head. Peter's assembled friends advised
him to take the skin-men's fifteen horses, and what remained at home
of his own, and ride off and try to recover the prey, without alarming
his dangerous guests; but Peter was bent on fastening the doors, and
burning them skin and bone, for, he said, they would never get so
easily quit of them. The two anxious lovers hearing a bustle without,
opened the casement, and overheard a part of these perplexed words and
reasonings. Then hastening out to join counsel, they raised the fray
openly. The heroic Sim flew to horse, and desired all that were
friends to the Scots to follow, while Laidlaw addressed his compeers,
saying, "Up, lads, and let us ride; our host must not be herried while
we are under his roof."

"No, no!" exclaimed the thieves, all in a breath; "he must not be
herried and we under his roof;" and no one appeared in half such hurry
as they were to mount and be gone.

"Stop short, my good fellows, till I speak with you for a minute,"
said Laidlaw: "Make me sure which side you will take before you go,
else one foot you stir not from that fire-side. I know you for Anthony
Reid of Whickhope, and those for two of your cousins of Tersithead,
and shrewdly suspect you to be at the head of the foray."

Anthony drew his sword: so did Laidlaw. But the English troopers were
bold and desperate fellows; and before Laidlaw's friends could gather
round him to his assistance, the three having covered themselves with
their bucklers, forced their way out, back to back, and ran Sandy Pot
through the left shoulder, who pressed on them too rashly. When they
missed their horses, and saw that they were clean gone, they foamed
like as many furies, and, setting their backs to the wall, swore
they would fight it out. The combat might have been attended with
much bloodshed, had not all the people rushed from the barn, and
overpowered them. They were then taken into the house and bound, while
Pot and May Chisholm, alias Jock, were left as guards on them, with
orders to kill the first that should offer to loose either himself or
any of his companions. This whole scene was quite beyond Peter
Chisholm's capacity. He could in nowise conceive how the one party of
Englishmen assisted with such energy in detecting and binding the
others. Still he was any thing but satisfied; the matter having
outgone his comprehension, as well as that of all his associates, save
one.

They now mounted without delay, and rode with all manner of speed
toward the Pass of the Hermitage, by which path they supposed the
droves must necessarily proceed; and just as they went down the
Redcleuch, leading their horses, they saw the cattle passing at the
foot of it. The party amounted scarcely to their own number; but the
sheep-drivers were not come in view; so they mounted their horses, and
instantly mixed with the men behind the drove, without offering to
stop the cattle. At the same time they placed a guard of two farther
behind, to prevent all intelligence from passing between the two
parties. When this was effected, Simmy challenged the cattle as his
father's, and desired the drivers to give them up; but to this the
captain of the gang, whose name was Gabriel Reid, the younger brother
of Anthony, and captain in his absence, only mocked, imitating the
sharp treble notes of the petulant younker, and telling him that he
would not give them up for three score such men as _he_ was, else he
was better than he looked. As he said this, however, he kept a curious
eye on the rough exterior of the tall athletic English peasants by
whom the youth was surrounded, which Laidlaw perceiving, accosted him
in his feigned tone.

"Whoy, friend, we are countrymen of thee own, and know thee full weel.
Thou's Gabriel Reid of Trochend. But thee billy Anty is taken prisoner
this seame mworning, and if thou disna gie up the kie, his head will
be chappit off, as weel as these of thee twa coosins the Ha's. Sae
thou hast ney choice left but to yield up thee ill gotten gain."

"And what dog art thou, that takest part against thee own countrymen?"
said Reid.

"Oo, I's a dealer in the leather line, as weel as all my friends
there. We have our free passages and warranty for the good of both
countries; but we are honest men, and by chance were lodged in the
house of the owner of these coos, and must see joostice doone to him.
I boond thee brwother with mee own hands."

"Then the devil bind thee, thou traitor knave! and for thee reward,
this to thy harnpan!" said Gabriel, drawing out his sword, and
attacking Laidlaw without more ado. Will, who was never backward at a
brulzie, received the encounter without flinching, and, calling for
fair play and elbow-room, both proceeded to decide the day by single
combat, while the rest drew aloof and looked on, encouraging them only
with cheers and applausive words. Laidlaw was mounted on Anthony
Reid's gallant steed, which Gabriel remarked, and that added to his
rancour against the skin-man at least ten degrees. The ground was
exceedingly bad, so that they could not wheel for weapon-space without
a parley; but neither would ask it. They fought close together, first
with their sword-blades, and afterwards, as their horses came in
contact, they dashed each other with their hilts. Both were slightly
wounded, but Laidlaw rather had the worst of it. "Beshrew thine heart,
if thou hast been a skin-merchant all thy life," said Gabriel, as he
turned his horse in the path for another encounter. They had now
changed sides, and this encounter was longer and more inveterate than
the first. Laidlaw not being quite master of his mighty and furious
steed, was twice in imminent danger, losing his broad slouched hat in
the struggle, the crown of which was cross-barred with steel.

Poor Sim had changed colours ten times since the combat began; and, on
seeing this last struggle, he lost all command of himself, and rushed
with his sword drawn to Laidlaw's rescue. _Himself_, did I say? alas,
no one knew the true sex, save her lover, and no one interfered till
she was met by an English trooper half-way, who unhorsed and wounded
her with as much ease, of course, as she had been a child. Will's eye
caught the first glance of her, as she was falling, and galloping up
to the rescue, bare-headed as he was, he clove the trooper's burgonet,
and slew him at the first stroke. Reid followed him up; but Laidlaw's
spirit, now fully proportioned to the high mettle of his steed, was a
match for any thing. He rode against his antagonist with all his fury,
and having the advantage of the brae, overthrew horse and man, and
galloped over them. Then throwing himself from his horse, and seizing
the forlorn warrior by the throat, called out with a voice of
fury,--"Rescue or no rescue?" "No rescue! Redsdale to the fray!" was
the resolute and fatal reply. Will could not stand to reason any more
at that time, so, without more ado, he ran him through the body, and
flew to the rescue of his beloved and heroic Elizabeth, for there the
combat began to thicken. She was on her feet ere he arrived, and well
guarded, and, mounting her palfrey, she bade her lover head the fray,
and pay no regard to her, for she was nothing the worse. He, however,
saw the blood upon her bassonet, and was roused to perfect fury. The
battle now became general; but it was no regular engagement, being
scattered here and there through all the drove--some fought before the
cattle, some behind them, and some in the middle. It was reported,
that at one time there were fifteen single combats all going on at
the same instant. Therefore, to have been an engagement on a small
scale, it proved a very bloody one, many being slain and wounded on
both sides. But the tremendous skin-merchants bore down all before
them wherever they went. These were inured to battle, while the
thieving moss-troopers, as well as the hinds on the Scottish side,
were only used to desultory warfare. The bare-headed leather-merchant,
in particular, was a dismal sight to the forayers, for having soon rid
himself of his first antagonists, he continued galloping about the
field wherever he saw two engaged, and cut down all of the adverse
party as he went, or rode them down, giving, with every stroke, a hard
grin and a grunt. The men thought the devil was come among them, or
else that he had fairly taken possession of a skin-merchant; and,
giving up the contest, a few of them tried to escape by flight, which
they did by quitting their horses, and gaining some inaccessible
ground. The drivers of the sheep likewise made their escape, for they
found the droves deserted in the Hope. The weakest of the men having
been left behind with them, they had come in view of the field of
combat, and, marking how it terminated, had sped them away out of
danger.

Chisholm's party brought home five prisoners with them, twelve English
horses well caparisoned, and all the prey, save one ox that Will
Laidlaw had ridden over and slain in the plenitude of his wrath. The
Scots had no fewer than nine killed and grievously wounded out of
their small party, of whom one of the latter was the brave and lovely
Bess Chisholm, who was so faint, that Will was obliged to carry her
all the way home on his horse before him, clasped to his bosom, he not
failing to kiss her pallid cheek many a time by the way, while all the
rest wondered at Laidlaw's great concern about the youth. When Peter
saw his child borne into the house pale and wounded, he lost all
recollection of the secret of her sex, and cried out "O my poor Bess!
my dear daughter! What had I ado making a man of thee! Thy blood is
on thy old father's head. "Alas, for my beloved daughter!"

"Daughter!" exclaimed they all again and again, "Daughter!" re-echoed
Will Laidlaw, as if he had not known well before. "Daughter?" cried
the skin-men: "Have we then been led to the field by a maid? Shame on
our heads that suffered the overthrow! against the rules of chivalry
as her attempt was! Alas, for the gallant and high spirited young
dame!"

They put her to bed, and dressed her wounds, and from all appearances
had high hopes that she was more afraid and fatigued than hurt. She
soon fell into a quiet slumber, in which they left her, and retired to
take some refreshment, and talk over their morning's adventure. It
turned out as suggested, that their three prisoners were the three
chief men of the gang, who had completely lost themselves and all
traces of their companions among the mist; and having heard a report
of the seizure formerly made at that place, they cunningly tried
to pass themselves off as messengers sent in search of the lost
travellers. If they had been with their own party, that would have
proved an overmatch for the Chisholms. The Reids and Halls had been
herried of their whole live stock by the Warden's people, and learning
that the greater part of it was driven up into these mountains, they
naturally wanted to make some reprisals and recover their own again.
Had it not been for their misfortune in separating, and the exertions
of the gallant hide-men, they would have effected their purpose with
the utmost ease. It proved a luckless raid for them, for they lost all
their horses, the greater part of their men, and the chief, squire
Anthony, and six of his friends, were sent prisoners to the castle of
Mountcomyn.

The country people at Chisholm's board were loud in praise of the
skin-men, and of their trusty and gallant behaviour; in particular,
they averred that Laidlaw had killed the half of the thieves with his
own hand, for that he rode about the field like a resistless angel,
destroying all before him. When Peter heard that he fought so
valiantly for the recovery of his stock, and regained his darling
daughter's life, his heart warmed toward him, and he bid him ask any
thing of him he chose that was in his power to give, and he should not
be said nay. Will at once asked the maid whose life he had saved for
his wife. Peter hesitated, and said it was hard to bestow the flower
of all the Chisholms on an English skin-merchant, a man who seemed to
have neither house nor name, or was ashamed to own them. However, as
he had proved himself a warrior and a hero, Peter consented, provided
the maid grew better, and was herself satisfied with the match. Will
said he asked her on no other terms, and went ben to see her before
he departed. She was still sound asleep, or pretended to be so;
therefore, unwilling to disturb her, he breathed a blessing over her,
and impressed two or three warm affectionate kisses on her lips. As he
came away he felt a slight pressure of her arms around his neck.

When Sandy Pot learned that the lovely youth with whom he had watched
the prisoners all the night and morning of the battle was a maid, and
the younger sister of his gallant friend Dan, Sandy's wound grew so
ill that he could not be removed, so he remained where he was, and the
other four went off with their uncouth loading. They found Dan
Chisholm at Hawick waiting for them in the utmost impatience, having
collected no fewer than twenty horse-loads of hides, every one of them
in size like a hay-stack; and away the motely train marched and joined
the Warden on the night after his arrival before the walls of
Roxburgh.



CHAPTER VIII.

    So they shot out and they shot in,
      Till the morn that it was day,
    When mony o' the Englishmen
      About the draw-brigg lay;
    When they hae yoket carts and wains,
      To ca' their dead away,
    And shot auld dikes aboon the lave,
      In gutters where they lay.

        _Ball. of Old Mettlin._


The expedition of the Douglas against Musgrave is, like the
innumerable Border battles of that reign, only shortly mentioned by
historians; and although it was a notable encounter, and is detailed
by Isaac at great length, it lies out of our way here. Let it suffice
that they skirmished cautiously for two days with various success, and
at last came to an engagement on a field right opposite to the
junction of the Tweed and Gala. After a hard fought battle, Douglas'
left wing was discomfitted; and just as he was arranging his force so
as to cover the retreat, an unaccountable confusion was noted among
the English ranks, which seemed to be engaged anew, and with one
another, there being no other army nigh. Douglas, recalling his routed
squadrons, faced about, but advanced with caution, till he saw
Musgrave's army broken and flying in all directions. This gallant feat
was accomplished by a Sir John Gordon, who was on his way with seven
hundred fresh men to the assistance of Douglas; and as he came on the
English ranks behind at that important crisis, he broke them at the
first onset, and took Sir Thomas Musgrave prisoner with his own hand.

Thus far the affairs of Douglas wore the aspect of prosperity--but a
settled gloom hung over his mind; an oppression of spirits was apparent
in every sentence that he uttered and every plan he suggested, and these
were far from being traits of his wonted disposition. But the monk
Benjamin had been with him again and again!--had been harrassing his
soul with commissions and messages from the mansions of the dead; and
one night he heard the voice of his lost and dearly regretted princess,
speaking to him in his tent, as it were out of the canvas. Still the
most solemn injunctions of secrecy were imposed on him, insomuch that he
deemed himself not at liberty to open his mind to any one. Besides all
this, the disconsolate Mary Kirkmichael had been constantly lingering
nigh to him, and always presenting herself in the utmost agony of mind,
to make enquiries about her royal mistress. That lady's appearance
became so terrible to him that he was unable to bear it, and gave strict
charges that she should not be suffered to come within the limits of his
camp. But for all that, availing herself of her rank and her sex's
privilege, she forced her way to him several times, and at every visit
filled his soul with the most racking torments; so that, harrassed with
_war_ as he was, he found this his first intercourse with _women_,
attended with ten times more distracting and grievous perils than the
former. While, on the other hand, the heroes that visited the castle of
Aikwood, even those who escaped, not including the wretched victims who
remained behind, discovered, to their dear bought experience, that
there were perils in nature infinitely superior to both.

It is now absolutely necessary to shorten the curate's narrative, to
prevent this work running to an inordinate length; and though two of
his tales have been left out already, the great events that follow
must also be related in a style abbreviated, though not mangled by
indistinctness.

After the intrepid Lord Musgrave had sacrificed his own life in order
to save those of his only brother and the lady of his love, Clavering
was unanimously chosen captain in his room, and every soldier took a
new oath to him to die in defence of the fortress. The commission of
which he accepted was a dismal one; but he entered into all the
feelings of the famishing inmates in their hatred of the Scots, and
implacable enmity against them,--therefore, he was the very man for
their purpose.

Every attempt of the besiegers to scale the walls of the castle, or to
gain an entrance by fraud or force, had hitherto proved utterly
abortive; the determined sons of England laughed at them, regarding
them in no other light than as freaks of mere insanity, or the gambols
of children. The fortress was impregnable with such heroes within, had
they been supplied with sufficient stores of food and of arrows, both
of which had long been exhausted; and though a small and welcome
supply of the former had been obtained during the tempest and the
flood which followed, for which they were obliged to the devil and
Master Michael Scott, yet, like all the benefits derived from that
quarter, it proved rather more hurtful than advantageous, for they
devoured it with such avidity that the distemper, with which they had
formerly been visited, broke out among them with greater violence than
ever. Yet disregarding all these privations, which a looker-on would
suppose might naturally tend to break the human heart and daunt the
resolution of the boldest,--with famine and pestilence both staring
them in the face,--they bound themselves by a new and fearful
oath never to yield the fortress to the Scots while a man of them
remained alive. Every new calamity acted but as a new spur to their
resolution; and their food being again on the very eve of exhaustion,
their whole concern was how to procure a new supply. Not that they
valued their own lives or their own sufferings,--these had for a good
while been only a secondary consideration,--but from the excruciating
dread that they should die out, and the Scots attain possession of the
fortress before Christmas.

The warders soon noted the alteration that had taken place in the
beleaguering army. They perceived the ground that had formerly been
occupied by the Angus men, and the Mar Highlanders, now taken up by
the tall, athletic, and careless looking borderers, against whom they
found their antipathy was not so mortal: and they had some surmisings
of what really was the case, that a strong diversion had been made in
their favours, that had drawn off their inveterate and hateful enemy
Douglas from the siege. Every hour convinced them farther of the truth
of this suggestion; for they perceived a laxness in the manner of
conducting the blockade which they had not witnessed for many days,
and all their conversation turned on the manner in which they ought to
avail themselves of it. The carelessness of the besiegers themselves,
or something subordinate thereto, soon furnished an opportunity to
them of putting their policy once more to the test, and that by an
adventure the most ardently desired. On the second day after the
departure of Douglas the warder on the topmost tower perceived, on a
rising ground two miles to the southward, about thirty head of cattle,
that came gradually in view as a wing of a large drove might be
supposed to do; and after they had fed for some time there, two men
came before them and chased them back out of sight of the castle, as
if a great oversight had been committed by letting them come in view
of it. Notice of this important discovery was instantly given to the
captain, and the news spreading among the garrison, many a long and
longing look was cast from the battlements and loopholes of the high
western tower that day. They were not cast in vain. Just toward the
fall of evening they perceived a part of the drove appear again only a
very short space from the castle, and they likewise perceived by their
colours that they were a drove of English beasts which had been
brought from their native pastures by the strong hand of rapine, for
the supply of this new come border army. They perceived likewise that
they approached the army by a concealed way, that the two glances they
got of them were merely casual, and that they were very slightly
guarded.

A council of war was immediately called, in which it was agreed,
without one dissentient voice, that the garrison should make a sham
sally at the eastern draw-bridge, as if with intent to gain the city,
in order that they might draw the attention of the besiegers to that
point; and in the meantime the captain, with the choicest of the
men were to march out by Teviot-bridge, of which the garrison
had necessarily the sole possession, and endeavour to seize the
prey. Thence they were to proceed westward, and try to elude the
enemy's posts, or give them battle, if the former were found to
be impracticable; but at all events, either to die or succeed in
attaining that valuable supply, or a part of it. The success of the
contest now turned on that single point as on a pivot; the balance was
against them, but, that turned in their favours by an exertion of
warrior prowess, they could then reckon on a complete triumph over
their unappeasable foes.

Besides, every thing seemed to concur in support of their gallant
expedition. The nights were dark even beyond their usual darkness at
that gloomy season, and the moon did not arise till two in the
morning. Both these circumstances were in their favour,--the one in
attaining possession of the prey unperceived, and the other in
enabling them to fight their way home; for they knew that though they
themselves might pass the strong Scottish posts favoured by the deep
darkness, still it was impossible to bring the drove through them, and
along the bridge, without a hard skirmish. The captain, therefore,
gave command to the division left behind, that the more noise they
heard of an engagement about the bridge of Teviot, and the gate toward
the west, the more they should press their battle eastward, to divert
the strength of the army to that quarter. Because on that side the
Scots could make no impression, and the English could lose nothing
there save a few lives, which they accounted of small avail; but if
the expedition to the west failed, their cause was finally ruined.

That was a busy evening within the walls of Roxburgh, while all was
quietness and indifference without. Within there was arming and
disarming, for the suits of armour that once fitted these emaciated
warriors would not now hang on their frames. There was grinding of
swords, pointing of spears and ox-goads, and even the slaughter-houses
of the fort were cleared, with a provident concern seldom overlooked
by Englishmen; and at eleven o'clock at night, by the convent matin
bell, Clavering, with five hundred chosen men, well armed, issued
silently from the garrison, creeping along the Teviot-bridge on their
hands and knees. From that they proceeded westward in the most
profound silence, and so close by the Scottish posts, that they heard
them breathing and conversing together. One party crept up all the way
within the water-brae, and the other, led by Clavering himself, past
through between two Scottish posts, drawing themselves along the
ground close on their breasts, and once or twice were obliged to squat
close down, and lie silent for a considerable space, while the
following dialogue passed between the sentinels.

"Od, Sandie Scott, think ye it can be true that the English are eating
ane another?"

"There's nae doubt o't. I hear that they're snapping up five o' the
fattest o' their number every day. They will eat themsels out bit by
bit that gate."

"Aih wow, man! I wad rather die o' hunger than pick the banes of ane
acquaintance. Bursten devils, that they are!"

"Aha, Sandie, billie, ye dinna ken till ye be tried. A man will do
ought or he die o' hunger. An do you ken, Sandie Scott, I think our
captain has done wrang in bringing sae mony fat bullocks a' sae near
the castle at ae time. Thae hungered louns will hae a haud o' some o'
them, and maybe cut a wheen o' our throats into the bargain, some o'
thir dark nights."

"Now, ye see neighbour, I ken sae weel that our master never does the
sma'est thing without some design, that I think he wants to wile out
the English, and then kill them; and that he has brought a' thir braw
stots o'er the border, just on the same principle that a fisher throws
a bait into the water."

"Na, na, Sandie, that canna be the case, for he has gi'en strict
orders that no ane o' them be suffered to come within sight o' the
castle. He just thinks the beasts canna be sae safe ony where else as
beside himsel' and his lads. But hunger has sharp een, and I wadna
wonder if this drove should lead to some hard tulzie."

"Whisht! Godsake, haud your tongue! What's that I hear?"

"The English, I'll warrant you. If hunger hae clear een, fear has unco
lang lugs. What was it that Sandie heard?"

"I heard a kind o' rubbing and thristing, as a fox or a foumart had
been drawing himsel through a hole aneath the ground. Hilloa! What
guard?"

"Howpasley and Gemelscleugh."

"Watch weel. There's something stirring."

"Not a mouse."

"So say the sleeping foresters; but I can tell you, men o'
Gemelscleuch and Howpasley, an there be nought stirring aboon the
ground, the moudies are very busy aneath it the night. Clap close, and
keep an ee on the withergloom. I had a heavy dream at nightfa', and
I'm resolved no to close an ee. Come, neighbour, tell a tale, or say a
rhame to keep us wauking."

"Have ye heard the new ballant made by the rhiming dominie o'
Selchrit, the queerest thing ever was heard? It begins this gate:

    The Devil he sat in Dornock tower,
      And out at a slip-hole keekit he,
    And he saw three craws come yont the lift,
      And they winged their flight to the Eildon tree.
    O whow, O whow, quo the muckle deil,
      But yon's a sight that glads my ee,
    For I'll lay the steel-brander o' hell
      There's a storm a-brewing in the west countrye."

           *       *       *       *       *

"Whisht, for heaven's sake! I heard the tod again, Hilloa!
Gemelscleuch to the glaive! Have lug and hawk e'e, or there'll be news
afore the morn that's unheard tell o' yet."

"And that there will! Saint David be with us! and the blessed Saint
Mary, the mother of God, be with us! Hist havering, say Benedicite."

At that instant a sharp breeze arose which drowned the noise, and
Clavering and his men passed fairly by on their perilous expedition.
Beyond the next hollow they found the cattle all lying puffing and
dozing on a round hill. An immense drove of them there seemed to be,
for the hill appeared to be literally covered, but the night was as
dark as pitch, and they could see nothing distinctly. Clavering gave
his commands in a whisper to his chief men, to surround the whole
drove, and drive them furiously, that by these means they might throw
the enemy's lines into confusion. "We have the advantage of the
ground," said he; "the bridge is clear, and the gates open. Let us
play the men for once, and our difficulties are all over. Providence
has favoured us beyond what could have been calculated on. Our force
is superior to that of our enemies on this side the river. On whatever
side our column is attacked, let us keep a running fight, so as to
push on and preserve the prey, and the day is our own: And now, Saint
Anthony for the right!"

The men then formed themselves into a crescent behind the cattle
six-line deep, and with club, goad, and spear pushed them on. There
were a few dour lazy driving runts behind that bore all the thumps,
but the bulk were high-spirited, and galloped off on the path toward
Roxburgh with the utmost fury, insomuch that the delighted drivers
never got a sight of them. They broke through the Scottish lines
without either stop or stay. The alarm was instantly given, but a
night muster is always attended with some delay. So the English
thought,--so they said; and to their great joy they found their
suggestions realized; for not till the last cow was past the strong
line of posts on the height were they attacked by the Scots. But then,
indeed, the Gemelscleuch and Howpasley men set upon them with
unparallelled fury, and being every five minutes joined by more of
their companions, they pressed hard upon the English, who, being
obliged to keep up a retreating battle, fell thick on the brae beyond
the bridge. The brave and judicious Longspeare himself led the attack,
and behaved like a lion; for though wounded in three different places
of the body, he fought in the front of the main battle all that night.

The Scots, to the utter amazement of their enemies, never once offered
to stop the cattle, but merely attacking the English crescent behind,
drove them and cattle and all towards the bridge. This Clavering and
his chief men attributed wholly to the surprise by which the Scots
were taken; and when the former saw the dark column of cattle take the
bridge, he thanked the God of heaven, the blessed Virgin, and all the
saints whose names were known to him, for such a wonderful success and
merciful deliverance. The English host then raised such a shout of
triumph that the echoes called from the castled towers to the forest,
and from the forest to the distant rocks. The Scots soon joined in it
with equal enthusiasm; and the two armies then engaged at the eastern
gate, also joined their voices to the general chorus. The gray friars
of Roxburgh, and the Benedictine monks of Kelso, raised their heads
from their flinty pillows, committed themselves to heaven, and
deplored the madness and folly of the men of the world. The city dames
wept and prayed, and the men ran to head-quarters to learn the cause
of the uproar. The sounds were actually heard in the camp of Douglas,
at the distance of sixteen miles; and when this was reported to him
next morning, he said, "There was the Redhough on the ramparts of
Roxburgh!"

But man's thoughts are vanity! He cannot judge of events so as to
calculate on what is to happen from one moment to another: incidents
of the slightest moment so often having the effect of overturning the
greatest and most momentous enterprizes. Never was there one so
nearly overturned as this, although it was not once thought of till
afterwards,--and it was on this wise: There was a strong guard of
English placed at the south end of the bridge, to guide the foremost
of the drove on to it, or help to cut a way for the cattle through
such troops as might interpose. The cattle, as was said, came
galloping furiously without intervention, and, as if led by an unseen
providence, took the bridge with all their vigour, the battle being
then raging behind them, and the shouts beginning to rend the sky.
This guard had nothing to do, of course, but to open into two lines,
and give them head. But at the end of the bridge there was a deep
puddle, and among the men there chanced to be a little boy, who was
running about and thrashing the cattle as they went through this
puddle, which made them spring up the arch with redoubled velocity,
which the urchin thought good sport. But in the midst of this
frolic he bolted away at once with such velocity that he had almost
overthrown one of the men in the file, and as he ran he cried out,
"Lord, saw ever ony mortal the like o' that?" "What was it, rash
idiot?" said the man. "Grace and mercy, man, did you not see how yon
great black stott stood straight up on his hind legs and waded the
pool?" said the boy. "Take that to clear your eyes, impertinent brat,"
said the man, and gave him a blow with his fist that made him run away
howling and crying, always repeating as he went, "I'll tell your
captain,--now! 'at will I that--now!"

The combat behind the cattle thickened apace. The English were sore
borne down on the hill, but when they came to the little plain at the
bridge-end they stood firm, and gave as hard blows as they got. They
had fairly gained their aim, and their spirits, so long depressed,
mounted to an unusual height. The last lingering hoof of the whole
countless drove was now on the arch, and they could calculate on
holding out the fortress against their hated foes not only till
Christmas, but till that time twelvemonth. Their shouts of joy were
redoubled. So also were those of the Scots. "The people are mad!" said
they, "thus to shout for their own loss and their own defeat. It is a
small trait of the cursed perversity of the whole nation!"

The English narrowed their front and narrowed their front still as
their files found room on the arch of the bridge, which was long and
narrow, and very steep at the south end, that rose directly from the
plain. But the road up to the castle by the two tremendous iron gates
was likewise exceedingly steep, and went by a winding ascent, so that
the latter end of the drove, those dull driving ones that bore all the
strokes, got very slowly up, and with great difficulty. There was a
guard of considerable strength left in this gateway by Clavering, lest
any attempt should be made by the enemy to enter in his absence. But
these men had strict charges to clear the way for the cattle, and help
to drive the foremost ones up the steep. The fore part of the drove
however came up the steep with such main fury, that the men were glad
to clear a way for them, by flying out of the path, up to the citadel.
There was not a man left in the gateway, save two at each of the iron
portcullises, and these stood in deep niches of the wall, out of all
danger. Each of these men held the end of a chain that was twisted
round an immense bolt in the wall,--and these bolts, Isaac says, are
to be seen sticking to this day. On untwisting this chain the
portcullises fell down, and when they were to raise up it was done
with levers. Well, as the two outermost men stood in their niches,
holding by the ends of their chains, they observed, that two of the
oxen that first came in, nay the very first two that came in, turned
round their ugly heads, leaned their sides to the wall, and kept in
their places, the one on the one side and the other on the other, till
the whole drove passed them. The men could not move from their posts
to drive them on with the rest, but they wondered at the beasts; and
the one cried to the other, "What can ail them two chaps?" "O them are
two tired ones," said the other: "Dom them for two ugly monsters! they
look as them hod been dead and roosen again."

At length, by dint of sore driving and beating, the last hoof of the
Warden's choice drove passed inward through the castle gate of
Roxburgh, for the maintenance of his irascible enemies. Could any
thing be so unfortunate? or how was he to set up his face, and answer
to the Douglas now? But the Redhough was determined that he would set
up his face and answer to the Douglas and his country too, as well as
to his kinsmen and followers, whom he valued highest of all. Just as
the last lazy cow crossed the gate, and when the triumphant shouts of
the English were at the loudest, the two great lubberly oxen that
stood shaking their ugly heads, and leaning against the wall, ripped
up their own bellies; and out of two stuffed hides two most ingenious
cases, started up two no less men than Sir Ringan Redhough and his
doughty friend Charlie Scott of Yardbire. Off went the heads of the
two porters in one moment, and down came the portcullis with a
thundering rattle, and a clank that made the foundations of the gate
shake. "Now, southron lads, haud ye there!" cried the Redhough: "Time
about is fair play. Keep ye the outside o' the door threshold as lang
as ye hae gart us keep it."

They next went up and seized the other two porters, whom they saved
alive, to teach them how to bolt, bar, open, and shut the gates; but
the men had taken the oaths with the rest, and remained obstinate. No
threatening could make them move either finger or tongue except in
mockery, which provoked the Redhough so that he despatched them
likewise. On reaching the great square the Warden found his men in
peaceable possession. Six score brave chosen men had entered among the
cattle, each in a stuffed ox or cow hide, and had now like their
captain cast their sloughs, and stood armed at all points to execute
his commands. They found nothing to do, save a prodigious difficulty
in working their way from the western to the eastern gate. There were
so many turnings and windings; so many doors and wickets; so many
ascents and descents,--that an army might have gained possession of
the one end and yet have been kept out of the other for years. But the
surprise here was so complete, that the Borderers had in fact nothing
to do but to keep the possession, thus obtained in so easy and at the
same time so gallant a style. The shouts that arose from the western
battle had so much encouraged those at the eastern gate, that they had
sallied out, and attacking the besiegers sword in hand, had driven
them back within their strong line of defence. This retreat was a part
of the plan of the Scots, to draw off the remaining force from the
gate, and while they were in the hottest of the skirmish, down came
Redhough and his lads from the interior of the castle behind them, cut
down the few guards about the entrance and the draw-bridge with ease,
and having raised that, and shut the double gates on that quarter
likewise, he placed the Armstrongs there as a guard, and returned into
the interior, still uncertain what enemies he had to combat within.

This mighty fortress was, from the one drawbridge to the other, a full
quarter of a mile in length, walled and moated round, and contained
seven distinct squares or castles, every one of which was a fortress
of itself. But the strongest of all was the division on the western
part, which was denominated the citadel, and had gates and bars of its
own, and towers that rose far above the rest. Into this strong place
the sole remnant of the English soldiers had retreated, which
consisted merely of the guard that kept the western porch and made way
for the cattle, a few stragglers beside, and some official people that
kept always within. Through every other part of the castle the Scots
found free passage; and by the time the moon had been risen for an
hour, the shouts of "A Douglas! a Douglas! a Redhough! a Redhough!"
were heard from every part of the walls, excepting the western tower.
There indeed a faint and subdued shout announced at intervals the name
of the King of England, for it was now no more a Musgrave! and as for
Clavering they wist not whether he was dead or alive, taken or at
liberty.

When the first ranks of the Englishmen that came up behind the cattle
saw the gates shut against them, they took it for some accident, or
some mistake that the porters had fallen into, on listening to the
shouts of the adverse parties: but after calling and remonstrating to
no purpose, they began to suspect that there was treason at the bottom
of it, and the whisper of treason spread among that part of the forces
which was now forced against the gate. They could do nothing; for they
neither had room to fight nor fly, and they knew not whom to suspect,
or what had befallen them. As for those at the farther end of the
bridge, they were so hotly engaged with their opponents, that they had
little time to consider of any thing; but finding themselves fixed to
the spot, and no movement making toward the gate, they conceived that
something there was wrong, which retarded the regular entrance of the
troops for so long a time. They now fought only three to three abreast
on the steep arch of the bridge, down which the English drove the
Scots six or seven times, the latter always returning to the charge
with that vigour which a certainty of success inspires. Clavering
fought them in the rear, and in the hottest of the battle still
encouraging his men to deeds of desperate valour, little weening how
matters went within. But when the names of the Scottish chiefs were
resounded from the walls, every heart among the English was chilled,
and every arm unnerved in one instant. They had no conception how the
thing could have happened; it appeared so far beyond all human power
to have effected it, that it was several hours before it gained
general credit among them. They had kept the fortress so long, with so
little dread of its being wrested from them, and withal suffered so
much in it, that they could not believe the evidence of their senses,
that by a course of events entirely of their own planning, they
should be all without the walls, and the Scots within. It was like a
work of enchantment. Like some of the late inconceivable works of the
spirits of divination.

The Scots could make no impression on them upon that long narrow
bridge; but they could not long stand cooped up there; and when
they saw that all hope was lost of regaining entrance, they threw
themselves over a high parapet, and took possession of the steep bank
between the bottom of the southern wall and the river Teviot. The
river being dammed below, it stood like a frith round the bottom of
this bank, which was so steep that they could not stand on it, but
were obliged to clamber alongst it on their hands and feet. Escape
being impracticable, the Scots suffered them to take possession of
that bank undisputed, and to keep it, supposing they must surrender
next day; but a great number were slain before the latter end of the
train was disentangled of the bridge.

The Scots had now free access to the gate, into which Gemelscleuch and
Howpasley were admitted. The Warden embraced them, and thanked them
for their wise counsel, as well as their great bravery; and they again
set about traversing and surveying the fortress, concerning which
Charlie Scott said, "It wad tak a man a year and a day to find out a'
the turnings and windings about it."

The battle at the eastern draw-bridge had continued from midnight
without intermission; and after the break of day our chiefs witnessed
a scene from the walls that was without a parallel. That division of
the Scots army was composed of Douglas' men, being the same troops
that were there before, and they were commanded by Sir James Douglas
of Dalkeith. That knight got private intelligence of the Warden's
intention to storm the castle, by what means he knew not, but resolved
to hold himself in readiness; and, as he was desired, when the sortie
was made, he retreated at first, drawing them off from the gate. When
the cry arose that the castle was taken, his men became frantic with
joy, and resolute on taking ample vengeance on their enemies, they
burst upon them without regularity, making great havock, and at the
same time throwing away many of their own lives. Sir James with great
difficulty restrained them, called a parley, and offered the expelled
garrison quarter; but they returned for answer, that they weened he
had called the parley to ask quarter of them, and they had determined
to refuse it. They concluded by telling him to see to himself, and
insult them no more by such messages, for as yet he knew not with whom
he was warring. The battle was then renewed by the light of the moon
with greater fury than ever; they fought like baited bears, with
recklessness of life and the silence of death. Deadly hate was in
every thrust, and the last words of every falling warrior were, "Have
at them yet."

When the day light arose, the English fought within a semicircular
wall of mangled carcasses; for, grievous to relate, they were not
corpses; yet were they piled in a heap higher than a man's height,
which was moving with agonized life from top to bottom, and from the
one end to the other; for the men having all fallen by sword wounds,
few of them were quite dead. The English were now reduced to a small
number, yet, in the strife, their ardour seemed to prevail over that
of their opponents. The Border chiefs, inured as they were to war,
stood amazed, and even shocked, at the scene presented to their
view. Yardbire was the first to deprecate it in these words: "Gude
faith, Sirs, it strikes me, that this is rather carrying war to an
extremity."

"Rescue! rescue!" shouted the Warden: "Give quarter to these men for
my sake. I will pay their ransom myself."

When the Douglas' vassals heard this, they lowered the points of their
swords, and drew back from the slaughter, commanding the English to
ground their weapons. The latter consulted together for a few minutes,
and void of all dread, save that of being obliged to submit to the
Scots, they broke with one consent over the pile of human bodies, and,
carrying destruction before them, opened a way into the middle of the
Scottish columns; nor ceased they fighting until every man of them
was cut down. The rest of the English army were in a fold. Escape was
impossible. Ten men could have prevented it on all sides, yet for a
whole day and night did they hold their tenure of that perpendicular
bank, although before the evening many were losing their holds, and
rolling into the river from exhaustion. Then the sudden immersion
arousing them somewhat from their torpor, scores of them might be seen
at a time crawling to the side of the water, and endeavouring to
clamber once more up the bank; but at last they sunk back into the
deep, and their last breath arose to the surface in small chains of
fetid air bubbles. No one knew what became of the young and intrepid
Clavering,--at what time, or in what place he fell; and without a head
as these men were, it was not till the second morning, when the breath
of revenge had cooled, and after much expostulation on the part of the
conquerors, that the wretched remnant yielded themselves prisoners of
war, and were all suffered to depart on their parole, with high
encomiums on their valour. But these commendations were received with
the gall of bitterness; and none of them could tell, when they went
home, how or by what means they were expelled.

The Warden and his men now set themselves with all their endeavour to
take the citadel; and, feebly as it was defended, it cost them no
little trouble. It is probable that it might have held out a few days
longer, but when Douglas and his army were seen approaching on their
return from the battle, the impatience of the Borderers could be no
longer restrained; and Yardbire, with a remnant of his Olivers, Potts,
and Laidlaws, scaled the wall in the faces of the enemy, who had
scarcely power left to cleave a head without a helmet, and throwing
themselves into the square, became masters of the gate in a few
minutes; so that before Douglas reached the top of the hill of Barns,
his colours were placed on the topmost tower of the citadel.

It may easily be conceived with what joy, wonder, and admiration he
gazed on this phenomenon. Joy that his broad lands and possessions
were thus insured to him, of which for some time past he scarcely
retained a hope; and admiration how that indefatigable chief had
accomplished, in a few days, that which he had exerted himself in vain
to accomplish for the space of as many months. The idea of being so
far outdone in policy was without doubt somewhat bitter to the palate
of a Douglas, for never till this day can they brook a competitor in
the field; but, considering how matters stood, it would have been the
worst of policy to have let such a feeling appear. Douglas therefore
testified the highest satisfaction, extolling the Warden's head to
conceive and hand to accomplish, in terms such as he had never been
heard to utter. "Glorious Redhough! unparallelled Redhough!" exclaimed
he again and again: "Thou and thy lads are the men to trust."

The chief received him at the castle gate, welcoming him in jocular
terms of high chivalry to the castle of Roxburgh, which he took care
always to denominate "my castle." This was soon noted by the Douglas:
and as soon as they entered the governor's house in the citadel,
Douglas made over to him, by regular deeds and instruments, the seven
first baronies he chose to name. This document, together with the
royal charters confirming it, is extant, and in the possession of one
of the Warden's lineal descendants at this day. On receiving this
grant, signed, sealed, and witnessed, Sir Ringan delivered over the
keys of the castle to the Earl of Douglas and Mar, and the two
exchanged seats at the table. Douglas also conferred the honours of
knighthood on Charlie Scott, Simon Longspeare, and John of Howpasley;
while Sir Ringan bestowed one of his new baronies on each of these
brave gentlemen in support of their new dignities, burdened only with
a few additional servitudes. On his right hand hero, the hereditary
claimant of the post of honour, he conferred the barony of Raeburn and
Craik, that he might thenceforward be the natural head of his
hard-headed Olivers and skrae-shankit Laidlaws. To Longspeare he gave
Temadale; and to Howpasley, Phingland and Langshaw. When Charlie first
rose from his knee, and was saluted as Sir Charles Scott of Raeburn
and Yardbire, he appeared quite cast down, and could not answer a
word. It was supposed that his grateful heart was overcome with the
thought that the reward bestowed on him by his generous chief had been
far above his merits.

The news of the capture were transmitted to court with all expedition;
on which King Robert returned word, that he would, with his queen,
visit the Douglas in the castle of Roxburgh, and there, in the
presence of the royal family, and the nobles of the court, confer on
him his daughter's hand in marriage, along with such other royal
grants and privileges as his high gallantry and chivalrous spirit
deserved. He added, that he had just been apprized by his consort,
that his daughter, the princess Margaret, had been for some time
living in close concealment in the vicinity of Roxburgh, watching the
progress of her lover with a devotion peculiar to her ardent and
affectionate nature. If the Douglas was aware of this, which the King
had some reasons for supposing, he requested that he would defer
seeing her until in the presence of her royal parents. There was a
thrust indeed! An eclaircissement was approaching too much for man to
bear.--But that heart-rending catastrophe must be left to the next
chapter. In the meantime, for perspicuity's sake, we must relate how
this grand device of the Warden's originated, by which the castle was
won, and himself and followers honoured and enriched.

It was wholly owing to the weird read by the great enchanter Master
Michael Scott. So that though the reader must have felt (as the editor
did in a very peculiar manner,) that Isaac kept his guests too long in
that horrible place the castle of Aikwood, it will now appear that not
one iota of that long interlude of his could have been omitted; for
till the weird was read, and the transformation consummated, the
embassy could not depart,--and unless these had been effected, the
castle could not have been taken. The editor, for brevity's sake left
out both the youth's and maiden's characteristic tales, which shall
appear by and by, but more he durst not cancel.

When the passage out of the book of fate was repeated to Sir Ringan,
he never for a moment doubted either its truth or fulfilment, provided
he and his friends could discover its true meaning. But the words were
wrapt in mystery; and, when conjoined with the enchantment practised
on his men, were for a long time so completely unintelligible, that
all save Sir Ringan himself, and his echo Dickie of Dryhope, gave up
the hope of reconciling the given destiny with reason or common sense.
As for the friar, he entered his protest against paying any regard to
it from the beginning, on the principle that all the Master's powers
and foreknowledge were deputed to him by subordinate and malevolent
spirits, and that good could not arise out of evil. The Warden's
philosophy, on the other hand, taught him to estimate facts and
knowledge as he found them developed among mankind, without enquiring
too nicely into the spirit of their origin; for the more deeply that
was wrapt in mystery, the more powerful was its sway over his
imagination. Charlie Scott felt much disposed to coincide with his
master in these principles, but in all deep matters he was diffident
in offering his advice or sentiments. He, however, hit upon the right
cue in this instance, and that by the most natural combination of
ideas that ever presented themselves to mortal man. The right
understanding of the prophecy was about to be given up in despair. The
intervals of silence during the discussion were becoming longer and
longer each time. It was in order to break one of these, rather than
to impose his advice on his chief, that Charlie ventured to deliver
himself as follows: "Gude faith, my masters, I see nothing for it, but
that we get Master Michael Scott to turn us into fat owsen again, or
bulls, or stotts, or what ye like. Then the English will drive us a'
gladly into the castle for marts to their beef barrels. But when we
are fairly in, we wad need the gospel friar to change us to men again,
or, gude faith, we wad be in a bad predicament. But I hae some faith
to put in auld Michael's power, (as I hae good right,) and gin that
could be done as he seemed to hint, by the blood of Bruce! but we wad
dowss their doublets for them."

"Might we not rather disguise ourselves as cattle, cousin?" said
Howpasley.

"I have seen our jugglers and mountebank players," said Longspeare,
"disguise themselves as a lion, a tiger, a bear, a wolf, and even as a
great serpent, and dragon, so that I myself took them for these
animals."

"Why then may not we disguise ourselves as oxen, so that we may pass
for them in a dark night?" said the Warden.

"Ay, in a dark night," said Dickie; "what is to hinder us? If we but
walk on all four we will pass with hungry men for oxen in a dark
night."

Thus was the hint given, which was improved on as above related, till
it effected the desired and important event, the taking of Roxburgh
castle, and that in the most masterly and prudent style ever conceived
by man. They had a small drove of cattle collected, as well as hides;
but the disguised ones took care to keep in the front or the middle
of these, in short on the side farthest from an Englishman. The one
who walked through the dub in an upright posture, had not perceived
the shabby boy so near him.

Abundance of all the good things that the kingdom could produce were
now poured into the castle with all expedition; and every preparation
made for the reception of the King and Queen of Scotland. The carnage
had been so great at the two gates that night the fortress was taken,
that the citizens of Roxburgh, as well as the three establishments of
monks and friars in the vicinity, besought of Douglas that the slain
might not be buried nigh to the city, for fear of infection; and if
this was granted, they proffered to be at the sole charge of removing
and burying them with all holy observances. This was readily granted,
and they were removed to a little plain behind the present village,
where thousands of their bones have lately been dug up. The burying
continued for three days.



CHAPTER IX.

    O I hae seen the gude auld day,
      The day o' pride and chieftain glory,
    When royal Stuarts bore the sway,
      And ne'er heard tell o' Whig nor Tory.
    Though lyart be my locks and gray,
      And eild has crook'd me down,--what matter?
    I'll dance and sing ae ither day,
      That day our King comes o'er the water.

        _Jacobite Song._


From the time of the taking of the castle until the arrival of King
Robert, was an interval of high festivity. The Border chiefs and
yeomen went home to their respective places of abode with abundant
spoil, having been loaded with rich presents from the Douglas, as well
as their share of Sir Ringan's numberless booties, which he always
divided among them with great liberality; and it was computed that, in
the course of that predatory warfare, he drove thirty thousand
domestic animals out of the English territory. The Scottish Border
districts were never so well stocked before. For a century previous to
that, they had lain waste, having been entirely depopulated, and left
no better than a hunting forest. That reign enriched them, and its
happy effects have never since been obliterated.

Among other things that happened in this joyful interval, old Peter
Chisholm received a message one day, informing him, that the stranger
to whom he had betrothed his daughter would appear next day to claim
the fulfilment of his promise.

"They'll eat up every thing that's within the house," said Peter: "If
he will have her, it wad suit better for us to meet them at Hawick.
The half o' the expences there wad lye to him at ony rate; and if he
made weel through wi' his hides, mayhap he wad pay the halewort. He's
a brave chield enough, it wad appear; but I wish he had fawn aff the
tap o' his humphed ill-smelled hides, and broken the bane o' his neck;
for it will be a wae sight to me to see the flower of a' the Chisholms
gang away wi' an English cadger. Oh, wae be to the day!"

"What is a man but his word, father?" said Dan. "I think the gallant
way in which the stranger behaved entitles him well, not only to the
flower o' the Chisholms, but to the best in the house beside."

"Ay, ay, that's aye the gate! fling away! fling away! till ye'll soon
fling away every plack your auld father has gathered for ye. But, hark
ye, callant Dan: Gin ye will stand by me, I'll gainsay the fellow yet,
and refuse to gie him my Bess."

"Hear what Bess says hersel," said Dan, "and then I'll gie my answer."

Bess was sent for, who declared not only her willingness, but her
resolution to abide by her father's agreement; but, added, that if a
better came before him, and made her an offer, she would not wait a
minute on her leather-merchant.

"Heard ever ony body the like o' that?' said Peter: "What trow ye is
the chance for that? How lang hae ye hung on the tree wi' a red cheek
an' a ripe lip, and never man to streek out the hand to pu' ye? There
was aince a neighbour I had some hopes o'; an' he has a good heart
too, for a' his jibes, an ane durst but tell him!"

Peter said these last words to himself, as he was turning about to
leave the apartment,--for he was at that time forming in his mind one
of those superlative schemes which strike dotage as plans of the
mightiest and most acute device, but which youth and energy laugh at.
This was no other than to be early astir next morning, and, before any
of his family was aware, gallop over to Craik, a matter of seven
miles, and beg of Will Laidlaw to come and run off with his daughter
before she fell into the hands of an English skin-man. This grand
scheme he actually put in practice, but met Laidlaw and his jovial
party by the way, who wondered not a little when they saw old Pate
coming gallopping up the Fanesh ridge, having his great pike staff
heaved over his shoulder, with which he was every now and then
saluting the far loin of his mare, and that with an energy that made
all his accoutrements wallop. He never perceived the bridal party till
close on them, and till he was asked by half a score voices at once,
"What's the great haste, Castleweary! Where are ye gawn at sic a rate
sae early in the morning? Are your ha's burnt? Are your cattle driven?
Have the Ha's and the Reids been o'er the fells aince mair?" And many
other such questions were put, before Peter got a word spoken or a
thought thought. He only bit his lip, and looked very angry, at being
caught in such a plight. But seeing Will Laidlaw at the head of his
kinsmen, he took him aside, and imparted his grand secret. Will's
sides were like to burst with laughter. He, however, contained
himself, while Peter went on "But ye had better turn a' that clan
again, wha hae nought ado at a' wi' us but put things to waste. The
less din about the thing the better."

"But how are we to answer the skin-merchant when he comes then,
Castleweary? That tremendous buyer of hides will hew us all to
pieces."

"Ay, ye maun just take a' the blame on yoursels, you and Bess. He'll
no mak muckle at the Laidlaw's hands, or he'll do what never ony did
afore him."

"I certainly have the greatest respect for your daughter; but times
are hard and dangerous, and I have nae great opinion o' marriage."

"Come, now, I like to hear that; for ye ken fock maun ay read a
Laidlaw backward; and if the times are hard, I shall be satisfied with
a very small dowry. Perhaps the matter o' ten tup hogs aff the
Crib-law, sax owsen aff Hosecot, and----

"Hold there, my old friend; and I will run all risks, and take away
your daughter Elizabeth; let the skin-man look to himself."

"Weel, God bless ye wi' her. Ye'll get the flower of a' the Chisholms,
and the best bairn o' the bike."

Bess was a winsome and a blithe bride that day, and though the wounds
she received in the engagement with the marauders were not quite
whole, she danced the best at the wedding, and was the first that
lighted on Craik-green. Dan entertained his fellow-soldiers nobly; but
old Peter was terribly in the fidgets, not only at the huge waste of
meat and drink that he now saw going on, but for fear of the arrival
of the outrageous and ill-used hide-merchant, and never till his dying
day could he be brought to identify his son-in-law with the stranger
to whom he first promised his daughter. But for many a day, when the
dogs barked, he hasted out in great agitation, lest the dealer in
skins and his associates should come upon him unawares. Sandie Pott
having found a very kind, attentive, and, withal, a very indulgent
nurse, in the younger daughter, May Chisholm, there chanced two
weddings at Castleweary on the same day.

Among other matters of that eventful period, Isaac the curate mentions
also a petition of the friar to Sir Ringan, that he would use his
interest to get the youthful bard, who had come an adventurer into his
army, replaced in his rights of the lordship of Ravensworth; and
likewise that he would grant him the captive maid, Delany, for his
bride. These important connections had never before come to the
Warden's ears; and when he heard the extraordinary adventures, and
early misfortunes of the twain, he manifested the greatest concern for
their welfare. But the maid, by the laws of those days, was the right
and property of Sir Charles Scott, who seemed unwilling to part with
her, and she not less so to be divided from him, now that his late
honours became him so well. This was a distressing consideration to
the poet, and he would in nowise leave her, to lay claim to his
paternal estate, till he saw how matters would turn in his favour. But
the friar still encouraged him, assuring him, "that he should be
restored to the house and to the inheritance of his fathers; and that
the fairest among the daughters of women, even the sole remaining stem
of the house of Galli the scribe, should be unto him as a spouse and a
comforter."

But among all the festivities at Roxburgh, and all the mighty
preparations for the reception of royalty, and the spending of the
Christmas holidays in such company, the countenance of Douglas was
manifestly overcast. He affected mirth and gaiety, but a hideous and
terrific gloom frequently settled on his dark manly countenance. The
princess's shameful and untimely death hung heavy on his mind, and the
secret of it still heavier. His conscience upbraided him, not with any
blame in the matter, for he was alike ignorant of the rank and sex of
his fantastical page: But her devotion to his cause and person; the
manner in which she had exerted herself by putting her rival into his
hands; the love-tokens slily given to him by her own dear self; her
admonitory letters; and all her whimsical and teazing inuendos, came
over his mind, and combined in rendering her memory ten times dearer
to him than ever he conceived that of human being could have been. And
then, how was all this requited? By bad humour, disrespect, and a
total disregard of her danger and sufferings. The most enthusiastic,
affectionate, and accomplished lady of the age in which she lived, was
suffered to be put down as a common criminal, without one effort
being made to save her; and that delicate and beautiful form thrust
down into a common charnel-house among the vulgar dead. Knowing all
these things as he did, how could he again behold her royal parents?
and knowing all these things as he did, why had he not related
the lamentable facts as they had happened, and conducted himself
accordingly? There was fixed the acme of his dilemma. The detail of
that lady's love and fate rose before his mind's eye, like a dark
unseemly arch, of which this was the key-stone; and there was a power
stood above it that held his soul in controul, and beyond that he
could not pass. Was it indeed true, that the spirit of his royal and
beloved mistress walked the earth, and from day to day laid her stern
behests upon him? And could it be that such a spirit attended upon him
in his most secret retirements; and, though unseen, watched over
all his motions, words, and actions? Or how else could the very
thoughts and purposes of his heart, together with his most secret
transactions, be repeated to him by this holy monk? Nay, though he had
never actually seen this apparition, he had heard his mistress's voice
one night speaking to him as from behind the hangings, and charging
him, as he respected his own and her soul's welfare, to keep her fate
concealed from all flesh.

Whenever the Douglas got leisure to think at all, amid the hurry of
his military duties, these cogitations preyed on his mind; and one
night when they had thrown him into a deep reverie, the monk Benjamin
was announced.

"I cannot see him to-night: Tell him to come and speak with me
to-morrow," said Douglas.

"He craves only a few moments audience, Lord of Douglas; and he says,
that, unless he is admitted, a visitor of another nature will wait on
you forthwith."

"What is the meaning of this?" said Douglas: "Must my privacy be
broken in upon, and my mind placed on the rack, at the pleasure of
every fanatical devotee? Tell him that I will not be disturbed
to-night. But--I think not what I am saying. Admit him. Well, reverend
and holy father--madman rather! What is your important business with
me?"

"That saintly vision has again been with me."

"Out upon thee, maniac and liar! There has been no such thing with
thee; and thou hast trumped up a story in order to keep the power of
the Douglas under thy ghostly and interested controul."

"If I am a visionary, Lord, it is for thyself to judge. I speak
nothing as of myself, but the words of one that has sent me. If thou
darest say they are the visions of a maniac, in future I keep them to
myself, and do you abide by the consequences."

"Thinkest thou that I will not, or that I dare not abide by any
consequences? Hence! Begone!"

"Rash precipitate man! thou shall repent this! What interest can I
possibly have in whispering these truths in thine ear? Did I ever ask
or hint at a favour from thee? Or was aught ever, save thy own
welfare, the purport of my messages? Adieu, my lord! There must
another commissioner wait on you presently, and one who will elude the
most vigilant of your sentinels."

"Stay, Benjamin: Thou art, indeed, blameless. If thou hast ought to
warn me of, say it and have done, for I am not in a mood to be trifled
with."

"I have been bid to caution you to look to yourself, for that there is
treason within the walls of this castle. Will you answer me one or two
queries truly and seriously, that I may know whether the being that
commissioned me be a true spirit or a false one?"

"I will."

"Have you got a private offer to a prodigious amount for the ransom of
Lady Jane Howard?"

"Monk, thou hast had this from hell.--I have."

"Which thou hast rejected, with the secret intent of asking her in
marriage yourself, should circumstances concur to favour the device?"

"It is false!--false as the source whence thou hadst it."

"Ah! Then have I done! my informant is a false one."

"Or, if I had, it was some passing thought, which no man can gainsay,
and for which none are accountable."

"Neither is it true that you visited her in disguise last night?"

The Douglas gazed upon the monk in silence, with an eye in which there
was an unnatural gleam of madness. He drew his breath three times, as
if he would have spoken, but made no answer. The monk continued:
"If these are truths, then list to the following behest,--if they
are false thou needest not regard it: There is a conspiracy among
thy people for the rescue of Lady Jane. They have been bribed by
unheard-of rewards. Thy guards are of course to be cut down, otherwise
the rescue cannot be effected; and if thy own head is added to the
convoy, the guerdons are all to be doubled."

The Douglas started to his feet, and held up both his hands: "By the
blessed Virgin it is true!" exclaimed he--"True every word of it!
There have been petitions made to me for the use of certain keys
already. Ay, and I have granted some of them too. I see through a part
of the conspiracy. But I'll sift the traitors! I'll make carrion of
them."

"If I am rightly informed, it may yet be prevented without being made
manifest, which would be greatly preferable. Beware of Kinlossie. And
list, for my time is expired: If you value your own name, see not the
face of Lady Jane again, till you present her to your sovereign."

The monk retired with precipitation, and left the Douglas overwhelmed
with tumultuary and adverse passions. "Still the Lady Jane Howard!"
said he to himself: "Nothing but the Lady Jane Howard! Is it possible
this can be an agent of hers? But the inference contradicts the whole
scope and tendency of his missions. I must investigate this matter
without delay." He raised his small bugle to his mouth, for in those
days that answered all the purposes of a house bell, and many more.
Every officer in castle or camp knew, by the blast blown, when
his personal attendance was required. Douglas lifted his to his
mouth,--but before he sounded it, the knight in waiting announced "a
lady." No bolder heart than that of Douglas beat in a Scottish bosom.
Nevertheless it quaked; for he thought of the threatening of the monk,
that another commissioner should visit him, whom his guards should not
be able to repel. His agitation was now wrought up to the highest
pitch, for he attempted to pronounce some words, of which the knight
knew not the import,--probably it was a command to expel her, or to
call in some guards; but before the order could be understood or
complied with, the lady herself entered. "There she is, my lord!" said
the knight in a whisper; "and none of us know whence or how she came
hither."

The lady came slowly by, and the knight retired with all speed. She
bore indeed the figure and form of the late princess, but the roses of
youth and beauty were gone, and in their room a clayey paleness
pervaded the features, which were even whiter than the cambric by
which the face was surrounded. The figure held up its right hand as it
advanced, and fixed its eyes on the earl; but no man to this day ever
knew any thing farther of that conference. The knight in waiting,
shortly after he had retired, heard a noise within as of a man choking
and endeavouring to cry out; and, bringing two more attendants with
him, they all three rushed into the apartment, and found the Douglas
fallen back on the embroidered couch in a state of mental abstraction,
or rather of total insensibility, and the lady was gone. They
immediately applied themselves to the restoration of their lord, which
they effected in a short time. Animation soon returned, but reason
wavered in a state of insensibility for several hours. During that
period he had for a number of times inquired who admitted that
stranger, or who saw her depart? The men assuring him each time, that
no one saw her till she was observed standing in the anti-chamber; and
that none was either admitted into the citadel or seen depart, save the
starveling monk who attended him frequently as his confessor. "There has
been another lady," they added, begging admission to your presence for a
whole day and night, which has always been refused here, in consequence
of your peremptory order. She has at the last resorted to the means
always at a woman's command, tears and threatenings; and she vows, that
if she is not admitted to an audience, you shall dearly repent it."

"What, another still?" said the Douglas: "No, I'll see no more women
to-day, nor to-morrow, nor next day. Do you know, Eveldon, what I
think of women?"

"No, Lord Douglas, but well what I think of them myself, which is,
that they are nature's masterpieces."

"The pests of society, Eveldon. I deem them subordinate creatures,
created solely for man's disquietude. The warrior is naturally
surrounded by dangers; but, till he engages with women, he rises
superior to them all; it is then that his troubles and perils begin.
No, I'll see no more women to-night."

"Might I advise, my lord, it would be, that you should give her
admission. It appears so strange to see a lovely and most courtly dame
standing weeping at your gate. The very commonest of the people
sympathise with her, and blame your neglect. Beshrew me, if any knight
in the realm would refuse such a suit; no, not the King himself."

"Do you think, Sir John of Eveldon, that I can submit to be ruled by
women and their agents? I, who never held them as ought save as beings
formed for man's pleasures or his interests. My hands are free of
their blood, Sir John,--my heart, if ever it was in bonds, is now
emancipated; and yet, by their means, has my life of late been held in
thraldom."

"Say that I may admit this dame, my lord."

"Well, be it so, and let us be quit of her. In the mean time, let the
guards be tripled, and stand to your arms. I have had strange
intelligence to-night; if true, there will be a dangerous commotion in
less than an hour hence."

"The forces of the two kingdoms cannot disturb you here to-night, Lord
Douglas."

"See to it,--there is treason within our walls. Who are on guard?"

"The Gordons, and Lindsay of Kinlossie's men."

"The Gordons I can trust,--let the others be changed without delay,
Sir John, and see them consorted to the camp.--Call up the Douglasses
of the Dales, and let them look to themselves. Admit that petitioner
in whom you are so much interested, and call me on the slightest
appearance of insubordination."

Sir John did as he was commanded, and forthwith introduced Mary
Kirkmichael of Balmedie. The impatience and mortification that the
Douglas manifested under this trial is not to be described, for he
had promised to give her information of her royal mistress as soon as
he had it in his power, and yet he neither had the heart nor the
resolution, after the charges he had received of secrecy, to tell her
of her mistress' woeful fate. At Mary's first entrance into his
presence, she rushed forward and kneeled at his feet, crying, in the
most passionate manner, "O, my dear lord, tell me what has become of
my mistress. This suspense is dreadful. The castle is now in your
hands, and all the prisoners, if such there were; but there are
shocking insinuations whispered abroad. Her father and mother are on
their way to visit you here; and what shall I say to them for the loss
of my dear mistress? O, Lord Douglas, if you know of her, as know of
her you must, tell me where I can see her. Dead or alive, let me but
see her. Or tell me when I shall see her."

"Lady, that is more than I can tell you; but if it will give you any
heart's ease, as certainly as I speak to you I saw her in this
apartment to-night."

"Blessed are the news to me, my lord! But why, then, won't you admit
me to her? Send me instantly to her presence, Lord Douglas, for I know
she cannot be in any state of concealment in which my company cannot
be welcome. I implore of you to send me forthwith to her presence."

"Send you to her presence? That would be a cruel act! Dame, you and
your sex have moved my spirit from its erect and heavenward position.
It is like a tree bowed by the wind, and the branch of memory is
stripped of its fruit. Did I say I saw the Princess Margaret in this
apartment?--You must not credit it. There's an incoherence in the
principle, or nature has hasty productions not accounted for. You must
not believe it, lady; for till the porter opens the great gate to you,
your royal mistress you shall not see again."

"Are not all the gates opened or shut at your controul, my lord? You
speak to me in paradoxes. I comprehend it all well enough, however. I
will go in or out at any gate; only, in one word, conduct me to my
mistress."

"Hell has no plague like this! No, there are no other fiends that can
torment a man in this manner." He blew his bugle.--"Eveldon, conduct
this dame to her mistress. She in the great state prison, you know,
the receptacle of royalty and thraldom, and let me not hear another
word. I'll throw him over the battlements that next mentions the name
of a woman to me."

The lady curtsied, and thanked the Douglas; and Sir John, mistaking
his lord's frantic sarcasm for a serious command, hurried Mary
Kirkmichael up stairs to the topmost apartment of the great tower, and
ushered her in, without farther ceremony, to Lady Jane Howard and her
attendant. Lady Jane rose and came running toward them; but, seeing
who approached, she started, and retreated to her place. As the two
ascended the narrow staircase, there was a great commotion in the
square below, therefore, Sir John turned the key and hastened down
again. The noise increased, and he heard there was a stern engagement,
in which the name of Lady Jane was given as a rallying word on the one
side. At the bottom of the stair the conspirators met him, having
broken through the ranks in that direction; for the Gordons flew to
guard the apartments of the Douglas, not knowing what the object of
the insurrection was. Sir John had just time to shut a double-barred
door in front of them; and, retreating up one storey, he shouted from
the balcony to apprize the Douglas, else the Lady Jane Howard was
gone. One from the ranks ran to apprize the captain, but losing
himself among the intricacies of the entrance, he shouted out, "Lord
Douglas! Lord Douglas!" with the utmost vociferation. The Douglas was
sitting in a deep reverie; his drawn sword was lying on the table
beside him. He heaved it above his shoulder, and running to the door
of the apartment, opened it, and asked the fellow, who was still
bawling in the dark, what it was? "'Tis the Lady Jane Howard!"
answered he, in the same shouting voice. "Damnation on the tongue that
says it!" exclaimed the Douglas in ire: "Am I never more to hear aught
repeated but the names of women? Do you know the penalty of that word,
recreant? I have sworn to throw you from the battlements, but that
shall not prevent me from cleaving you to the earth in the first
place. Women! women! Nothing but one woman after another! I'll cut
down every man that dares name one to me in that manner!" As he said
these words, he rushed toward the soldier with his heavy sword heaved,
but the man, flying with all expedition, escaped into the court. The
Douglas followed him, and was soon in the midst of a confused
engagement; and hearing the conspirators shouting the same name, "Lady
Jane Howard!" he took it as in derision, and flew on their ranks with
such fury, that every man at whom he struck fell to the ground. The
Gordons followed him up, crying "A Douglas!" but the conspirators
were the stronger party, and would ultimately have prevailed, had not
the Douglasses of the Dales arrived to change guard as formerly
ordered; and then, Kinlossie having fallen in an attempt to slay the
Douglas, his party surrendered. There was a strong troop of English
horsemen waiting on the other side of the Teviot with a raft, to whom
she was to have been let down from the wall. But the information
lodged by the monk not only frustrated the whole of this desperate
expedition of the Howards, but saved the life of Douglas. For the
conspirators receiving the unexpected orders to depart to the camp,
were driven to make the attempt prematurely; before their measures
formerly concocted were ripe for execution.

Of all the circumstances that had hitherto occurred, the reflection
upon this bewildered the mind of Douglas the most. The manner in
which these secret combinations had been revealed to him filled his
heart both with gratitude and amazement; and as all endeavours at
reconciling them with nature or reason only increased the mystery, he
resolved to shake the load from his spirits and think no more of them.
That he might effect this with greater promptitude, he kept his noble
kinsmen constantly about him by night as well as by day. The Redhough
also returned from his visit to Mountcomyn, as did all the knights and
gentlemen commoners of his party from their respective homes, mounted
in their most splendid accoutrements, to greet their Sovereign, render
him an account of their services, and proffer him due homage. But,
among all these Border chiefs, there was none whose appearance
attracted so much admiration as that of Sir Charles Scott of Raeburn
and Yardbire. Before that time, the only attention he had ever paid to
his habiliments, was that of procuring the best suits of armour that
could possibly be obtained. As the leader of the Warden's vanguard
column, and his right-hand files in line, he knew it behoved him to be
well armed, and in that article he was never deficient. But now that
he had to appear before his Sovereign in full pride of array, as the
knight of Raeburn and the Warden's right-hand man, he deemed it
requisite to have an equipment becoming his rank; so he rummaged the
old oaken wardrobe and armour-chest at Yardbire, and from the knightly
spoils of ages got himself fitted out, by a skilful hand, in a style
that amazed all his former compeers. Both himself and his horse Corbie
were literally covered with burnished gold; while the playful
restiveness of the one, and the manly and almost colossal figure of
the other, rendered the appearance of our warrior a sight truly worthy
of admiration. The activity and elasticity of all his motions,
combined with his invincible muscular strength, and urbanity of
countenance and manners, rendered Charlie at all times an interesting
object; but till once he appeared in his plumes and light armour
studded with gold, no one could have believed that he was so comely
and graceful a personage. At the same time the very consciousness of
his appearance, and the rank that he was obliged to support, raised
his personal carriage and address many degrees, as by a charm; so
that whenever the Warden and his train presented themselves, strangers
always appeared disposed to move their bonnets to Sir Charles, whom
they took for a king, or an earl at the very least.

The arrival of these heroes added a great deal to the hilarity,
tilting, and other military amusements at Roxburgh; until at last the
24th of December arrived, and with it the word that the King and Queen
were on their way to Roxburgh, and approaching by the wild path of
Soutra-edge. There was no bustle at the castle or city of Roxburgh,
save by the city dames and maidens, for whom the approaching festival
appeared a glorious epocha; for since the days of Edward Longshanks,
who kept his court there for some weeks, there had not been a crowned
head within the precincts of that illustrious city. Consequently, with
these fair denizens, and with the merchants who attended that mart
once a year from many of the towns on the Continent, it was a time of
hurry and preparation; but with the warriors it was far otherwise.
They were ready before; every one being alike anxious to fulfil the
part entrusted to him,--so that they had nothing ado but to mount and
ride in the order assigned to them.

First of all rode Sir Ringan Redhough, supported by all the gentlemen of
the middle and west marches--the Scotts, the Elliots, the Armstrongs,
and the Olivers, were the most powerful of these: And next in order came
the Laidlaws, the Brydens, the Glendenyngs, and the Potts. After them
rode the copper-nosed Kers, the towzy Turnbulls, and the red-wudd
Ridderfords; for in those days every sept had some additional
appellative or by-name. These were also mixed with a number of smaller
septs, such as the Robsons, the Dicksons, the hurkle-backed Hendersons,
and the rough-riding Riddels; and they were all headed by the doughty
Sir Andrew Ker of Aultonburn. Next in order rode Old Willie Wiliecoat,
named also _Willie wi' the white doublet_, the ancestor of the Earls of
Home,--a brave and dauntless character, who for the space of forty
years had been a sight of terror to the English, with his white jacket.
With him rode the gentlemen of his own name, the hard-rackle Homes, the
dorty Dunbars, the strait-laced Somervilles, and the Baillies. Then came
the proud Pringles, a powerful sept, mixed with a countless number of
dependent families, headed by Pringle of Galashiels; and after them the
Gordons, led by Sir John of that ilk.

All these held lands of the Douglas, on conditions of certain
services; they were nevertheless all independent chiefs, these
services performed; but at this time they attended personally, with
their kinsmen, to pay their dutiful respects to their Sovereign. Last
of all came the Douglasses, in five separate bodies, every one headed
by a lord or knight of the name; and these made up one-third of the
whole cavalcade, the Earl himself being with the last party of all,
and most gallantly attended.

The two parties met at Earlston, but the royal party was nothing in
point of bearing and splendour to that of the Douglasses. The King and
Queen travelled each in a litter borne by two gallant steeds. These
carriages were very splendid in their decorations, and constructed in
the same way as a sedan chair, and it was truly wonderful with what
velocity they were borne along. They were contrived for the King's
use, who had a halt, and could not travel on horseback; and they
suited the state of the roads in Scotland at that period exceedingly.
Two heralds rode before his Majesty, who introduced the various chiefs
to him as he passed, and those others of whose names he enquired,
among whom Sir Charles Scott was the first. The Queen and her Maries
also saluted him along with the Warden. The whole procession then drew
up in files until their Majesties passed, after which they fell all
into their places, the order of precedency being then reversed, and
the Douglasses next to the Sovereign. There was no time for delay,
considering the season, the darkness of the night, and the shortness
of the day; so they posted on with all manner of expedition, and yet
it was dark before they reached the abbey of Kelso. But all the way,
by the cloisters, the bridge, and up the High-street of the city of
Roxburgh, there were tiers of torches raised above one another that
made it lighter than the noon-day. Never was there such a scene of
splendour witnessed in that ancient and noble city; to which the
darkness of the canopy above, and the glare of torch-light below,
added inconceivable grandeur. It seemed as if all the light and beauty
of the universe had been confined within that narrow space, for
without all was blackness impervious to the eye, but within there was
nothing but brilliancy, activity, and joy. Seven score musical
instruments, and as many trilling but discordant voices, yelled forth,
from the one end of the street to the other, that old song beginning,

    "The King came to our town;
      Ca' Cuddie, ca' Cuddie!
    The King came to our town,
      Low on the Border."

The trumpets sounded before, and the bugles behind; and the Border
youths and maidens were filled with enthusiastic delight at the
novelty of the spectacle. They followed with shouts to the castle
gate, and then returned to talk of what they had seen, and what they
should see on the morrow.

The royal party was conducted to the citadel, where every thing was in
readiness for a grand entertainment; and there the Douglas delivered
into the King's hands the keys of the castle of Roxburgh. His Majesty
received them most graciously, and thanked him for all the cost,
pains, and trouble that he had taken for the good of the realm;
and added, that he came prepared in heart and mind to fulfil his
engagements to him in return. There was now a manifest embarrassment
on the part of the Douglas; his countenance changed, and he looked as
he would have asked for the Princess, or, at least, as if some one
were wanting that ought to have been there; but after an agitated
pause, he could only stammer out, that "he was much beholden to his
Majesty, who might at all times command his utmost services without
bounty or reward."

"I trust that is not as much as to say that you now decline the
stipulated reward for this high service," said the King.

"Sire, I see none either for your Majesty to give, or your servant to
receive," said the Douglas; and at the same time he cast a hasty and
perturbed glance at the courtiers and warriors ranged around the hall.
The king nodded by way of assent to his hint; and at the same time
said to him, aside, "I understand you, Lord Douglas. You will explain
this gallantry of yours, in keeping your sovereign's daughter in
concealment from her natural guardians, in private to-morrow. But,
pray, can we not see our darling to-night?"

"Alas, my liege lord and sovereign," said Douglas, passionately, "sure
you jest with your servant, thus to tax him with that of which he is
innocent."

The King smiled, and waving his hand jocularly, by way of intimating
that he thought his affected secrecy prudence at that time, left him,
and forthwith went halting up among the Borderers, to converse with
them about the affairs of the English marches. The stately and
commanding figure of Charlie Scott, who was like Saul among the
people, again attracted the King's eyes, and he went familiarly
up to him, and said at once, "Well, gallant knight, how have
accounts balanced between you and your southern neighbours since
last Lammas-tide?"

"Gude faith, my liege lord and king, I can hardly tell you," said Sir
Charles, without hesitation: "There hae been some hard yerks gaun; but
the last quarter stands rather aboon an average wi' us. It is a kittle
bauk that hings o'er the Border, my liege; it is often nae sooner down
to the yird than it is up to the starns again."

"Well said, knight! I like your fair wit and free humour," said the
King. "So, upon the whole, you judge that the balance preponderates on
our side just now?"

"I should think sae, Sire, when sic a clod as this castle of Roxburgh
is thrown into the bucket. It is nae witherweight this for the end of
a weigh-bauk. A' the kye o' the Seven Dales winna carry the swee to
the south side again."

The Queen, hearing her lord conversing so freely and jocularly with
this goodly personage, came also up with two of her ladies of honour,
in order to put in a word; "for (says Isaac, with great simplicity)
women always like to be striking kemps with a handsome and proper man;
and the bigger of bone, and the stronger of muscle, the more is he the
object of their admiration."

When Sir Charles had finished the last remark, therefore, the Queen
smiled complacently in his face, and said, "You must certainly
acknowledge, gallant knight, that you have been much indebted to
heaven for your singular success in this instance?"

Sir Charles nodded his head. "Its a' that ye ken about it, my lady
queen. But saft be the sough that says it. I trow we were mair
indebted to some other place in the first instance."

The Queen held up her hands: "Uh! what does the knight mean? Say, my
lord, What? What place?" Then turning to Sir Ringan, who was terribly
in the fidgets about what had dropped from his kinsman, she added, "I
trust our right traist warden and loving cousin did not practise any
of the diabolical arts, so prevalent of late, to accomplish his hard
task?" And then, with a woman's natural volubility, when once her
tongue is set a-going, she added, turning to Charlie, without waiting
the Warden's reply, "What place does Sir Charles mean? I hope you
would not insinuate that you had any dealings with the spirits of
darkness?"

"Not with hell directly, madam," answered Charlie, (for Isaac can
never help calling him occasionally by his old title,) "but I canna
say that we didna get a strong hint frae ane or twa of its principal
agents. No offence, my lady queen. I ken by report, that your Majesty
takes supreme delight in religious devotions; and, to tell the truth,
I have always had a strong hankering that gate mysel', and hope I will
hae till the day of my death. But there is ae thing in the whilk I am
greatly altered. Pray, may I take the liberty to ask what is your
Majesty's opinion about the deil?"

"Uh! gracious St Mary be with us! What a question, knight! Why, what
can I think but that he is the great enemy of God and man, and the
author of universal evil?"

"There I think differently," said Charlie, bowing very low: "Always
begging my lady queen's gracious pardon, that's the only tenet o' my
belief that is altered;--at least an it be nae fairly altered, it is
considerably jumbled, and nought like sae steadfast as it was. Always
begging your pardon though, madam."

"I am quite confounded," said the Queen. "Pray, warrior, what do you
mean?"

"Plainly this, my lady queen; that I think the old gentleman has been
sair abused; and that there are some na meikle better than him wha
have been a great deal better ca'd. It may sound a little odd in your
ears, but I hae now seen him. I hae sat wi' him; I hae eaten, I hae
drunken wi' him; and gin it hadna been for the interference of women,
we wad hae partit civilly. But whenever they get a finger in a pye,
there will be some ane burnt in the opening o't. Always begging your
Majesty's pardon, though."

"The Queen crossed herself, and counted her beads; but at the same
time bestowed a smile and look of admiration on this extraordinary
hero who had accomplished such singular adventures. These encouraging
Sir Charles to finish his sentence, he added: "They hae frightit me
wi' him lang; and sair has my neb been hauden at the grindstane wi'
the fear o' him. I durst hardly say or think that ane of a' the
members of my body was my ain wi' perfect terror. But thae days are a'
o'er. An' the bedesmen be gaun to fright me ony langer wi' a deil,
they maun get a new ane; for the auld ane winna stand his ground to
any extent wi' me on that score. He has doubtless some bad qualities;
some wicked vagaries about him; but, upon the whole, I have met wi'
waur fellows."

This introduction, in spite of Sir Ringan's endeavours to waive the
subject, led to the whole narrative of the transactions at Aikwood, of
which the Queen and her maidens of honour were never wearied,
although at the same time many an Ave Maria and Paternoster the
subject cost them. When obliged, from the lateness of the hour, to
desist listening to the agitating theme, the Queen was never at rest
until it was renewed next day; nor even then till she had gone and
visited the great hill of Eildon thus miraculously cleft asunder and
divided into three; and even after quaking at the scene, she grew
still more importunate in her inquiries, so that there was no
satisfying her curiosity on the subject of the enchantments of Master
Michael Scott all the time she remained in Roxburgh.

When she retired to her chamber that first night she inquired
for a confessor, and the knight in waiting introduced the monk
Benjamin; intimating, that since the capture of the castle he had been
confessor-general to all within its walls. The Queen's devotions that
night were prolonged until an early hour next morning; nevertheless she
arose from her sleep greatly refreshed, and in high spirits, and at the
breakfast-table was more than usually gay. Not so with Douglas, over
whose countenance, in spite of all exertions to the contrary, hung a
heavy gloom, as well as a manifest abstraction of thought. The King, who
was a person of strong discernment, observed this, and, from some
indefinite dread of the cause, involuntarily partook of the sensation.



CHAPTER X.

    I want none of your gold, Douglas,
      I want none of your fee,
    But swear by the faith of thy right hand
      That you'll love only me:
    And I'll leave my country and my kin
      And wend along with thee.

        _May Marley._


When the mass, and a plentiful morning meal, were over next day, every
one began to prepare for such exercises as the season admitted. All
lingered about for some time, but seeing that no orders were likely to
be given out for any procession or general rendezvous during the day,
which every one had expected, some betook them to the chace, others to
equestrian exercises with sword and spear, while the Homes and the
Gordons joined in an excursion into English ground, keeping along the
southern bank of the Tweed. The King observing them all about to
disperse, reminded the Douglas that it was a high festal day; on
which the latter made a low obeisance, and remarked, that he was only
now a guest in the castle of Roxburgh, and that his honoured liege
sovereign was host; that his foresters and sumptuary officers had got
timeous notice, and nothing would be lacking that his Majesty could
desire for the entertainment of his nobles and friends. The King then
caused it to be intimated, that he would be happy to meet all his
lords and nobles in the banquet-hall at even-tide, where every knight,
gentleman, and yeoman, were expected to attend in their several
places, and all should be heartily welcome. "And now, Lord Douglas,"
said he, leading the way into an anti-chamber, "let us two retire by
ourselves, and consult what is to be done next."

Lord Douglas followed, but ill prepared to answer the inquiries about
to be put to him. He had received injunctions of secrecy from one who
had in no instance misled him, and to whom he had been of late
indebted for the preservation of his life. But how was he now to
conduct himself, or how answer his sovereign in any other way than
according to the truth as it had been stated unto him? His predicament
was a hard one; for he was, in the first place, ashamed of the part he
had acted, of never having discovered his royal mistress while
attached to his side, notwithstanding of all the evidences in
confirmation of the fact, which he had never once seen till too late.
And then to have suffered even his mistress' page to fall a victim to
such a shameful death, without either making an effort to save him, or
so much as missing him from his hand, or mentioning his loss,--were
circumstances not quite consistent with the high spirit of gallantry, as
well as chivalry, he had displayed at first by the perilous undertaking.
Gladly would he have kept his knowledge of the transaction a secret; but
then there was the monk Benjamin, who, by some supernatural agency, had
been given to understand the whole scope and tenor of it; and there was
dame Mary Kirkmichael knew the whole, except the degrading catastrophe,
and had unfolded it all to him when it was too late. He run over all
these things in his mind, and was as little, as at any previous period,
prepared what part to act, when the King turned round, and, in the most
anxious and earnest manner, said, "Lord Douglas, where is our daughter?"

"My liege lord and sovereign, ought not I rather to have asked that
question of you?" said the Douglas: "And I would have done it at our
first meeting, only that I would not trifle with your feelings on such
a serious matter, perceiving that you laboured under a grievous
misconception regarding my conduct. You have not, it seems, brought
the princess Margaret along with you, as was expected by all my
friends and followers?"

"Not by yourself, I am certain. I say, Lord Douglas, where is my
daughter? I demand a categorical answer."

"Sire, in what way am I accountable for your daughter?"

"Lord Douglas, I hate all evasion. I request an answer as express
as my question. I know my darling child, in admiration of your
chivalrous enterprise, resolved, in the true spirit of this romantic
age, to take some active part in the perils undertaken solely on her
account: I know her ingenuity, which was always boundless, was
instrumental in performing some signal services to you; and that
finally she attached herself to your side in a disguise which she
deemed would ensure her a kind and honourable protection. Thus far I
know; and, though the whole was undertaken and transacted without my
knowledge, when I was absent in the Highlands, I am certain as to the
truth of every circumstance; and I am farther certified that you know
all this."

"Hear me, my liege sovereign. Admitting that your daughter, or any
other king's, lord's, or commoner's daughter, should put herself into
a page's raiment, and"----

"Silence, lord!" cried the King, furiously, interrupting him: "Am I to
be mocked thus, and answered only with circumlocution, notwithstanding
my express command to the contrary? Answer me in one word. My Lord of
Douglas, where is my daughter?"

"Where God will, sire," was the short and emphatic reply. The king
eyed Douglas with a keen and stern regard, and the eagle eye of the
latter met that of his sovereign without any abashment. But yet this
look of the Douglas, unyielding as it was, manifested no daring or
offensive pride; it was one rather of stern sorrow and regret;
nevertheless he would not withdraw it, but, standing erect, he looked
King Robert in the face, until the eyes of the latter were gradually
raised from his toward heaven. "Almighty Father!" cried he, clasping
his hands together,--"Where, then, is it thy will that my beloved
child should be? O Douglas! Douglas! In the impatience and warmth of
temper peculiar to my race, I was offended at your pertinacity; but I
dread it was out of respect to a father's feelings. I forgive it, now
that I see you are affected, only, in pity to this yearning bosom,
relate to me all that you know. Douglas! can you not inform me what
has befallen to my daughter?"

"No, my liege, I cannot. I know nothing, or at least little save from
report; but the little that I have heard, and the little that I have
seen, shall never be reported by my tongue."

"Then hope is extinct!" cried the King. "The scene that can draw tears
from the stern eye of the Douglas, even by an after reflection, is one
unmeet for a parent's ear. The will of the Almighty be done! He hath
given and he hath taken away: blessed be his name! But why have the
men of my household, and the friends in whom I trusted, combined
against my peace?" The King said this in a querulous mood. "Why did
you not tell me sooner?" cried he, turning to Douglas, his tone
altering gradually from one of penitence and deep humiliation to one
of high displeasure: "Why bring me on this fool's errand, when I ought
to have been sitting in sack-cloth and ashes, and humbling myself for
the sins of my house? These must have been grievous indeed, that have
drawn down such punishments on me. But the indifference of those in
whom we trusted is the worst of all! O, my child! My darling child,
Margaret! Never was there a parent so blest in a daughter as I was in
thee! The playfulness of the lamb or the kid,--the affection of
the turtle-dove, were thine. Thy breast was all enthusiasm and
benevolence, and every emotion of thy soul as pure as the ray of
heaven. I loved thee with more than parental affection, and, if I am
bereaved of thee, I will go mourning to my grave. Is there no one in
this place that can inform me of my daughter's fate? Her lady
confidant, I understand, is still lingering here. Send for her
instantly. Send for her confessor also, that I may confront you
altogether, and ascertain the hideous and unwelcome truth. If I cannot
have it here, I shall have it elsewhere, or wo be to all that have
either been instrumental in her fate or lax in warding it off! Do you
think, Lord of Douglas, that I can be put off with a hum and a haw,
and a shake of the head, and, 'it's 'God's will?' Do you think I
should, when I am inquiring about my own daughter, whom I held
dearest of all earthly beings? No, I'll scrutinize it to a pin's
point. I'll wring every syllable of the truth out of the most secret
heart and the most lying tongue. I'll move heaven and hell, but I'll
know every circumstance that has befallen to my daughter. Send, I say,
for her foster-sister and faithful attendant, dame Mary Kirkmichael.
Send also for her confessor, and for all to whom she has but once
spoken since she arrived here. Why are they not sent for before this
time?"

"My liege lord, restrain your impatience. They are sent for; but they
will tell you nothing that can mitigate your sorrow. If it be all true
that has been told to me, and that you yourself have told to me, of
the disguise the Princess assumed, then is it also true that you will
never again see your daughter in this state of existence."

"Ah! is it even so! Then is the flower of the realm fallen! then is
the solace of my old age departed! But she is happy in the realms of
blessedness. While love, joy, and truth are the delight of heaven,
there will my Margaret find a place! O, that she had staid by her
father's hand! Why was my jewel entrusted to the care and honour of
those who care but for themselves, and who have suffered the loveliest
flower of the world to be cropped in its early blossom? nay, left it
to be sullied and trodden down in forgetfulness. Lord Douglas, did you
see my daughter perish?"

"Now, my liege lord, can I act the man no longer. Forgive me; and may
the holy Virgin, the mother of God, forgive me; for I indeed saw with
these eyes that inestimable treasure cut off, without one effort on my
part to save her, and without a tear wetting my cheeks."

"Then may all the powers of darkness blast thy soul, thou unfeeling
traitor! Thus! thus will I avenge me on the culprit who could give up
his sovereign's daughter, and his own betrothed bride, to a violent
death, and that without a tear! O thou incarnate fiend! shalt thou not
bewail this adown the longest times of eternity? Darest thou not draw
against an injured father and king?"

"Put up thy sword, sire. The Douglas draws not but on his equals, and
thou art none of them. Thy person is sacred and thy frame debilitated.
He holds thee inviolate; but he holds thee also as nothing!"

"Thou shall know, proud lord, that the King of Scotland fears no
single arm, and that he can stand on one limb to avenge the blood of
his royal house."

"My gracious lord, this is the mere raving of a wounded spirit, and I
grieve that I should have for one moment regarded it otherwise than
with veneration. I had deserved to die an hundred deaths, if I had
known who the dear sufferer was; but, alas! I know not ought of the
sex or rank of my page, who was taken prisoner in the great night
engagement. But I can tell you no more, Sire; nor is it needful; you
now know all. I am guiltless as the babe unborn of my royal mistress's
blood; but I will never forgive myself for my negligence and want of
perception; nor do I anticipate any more happiness in this world. I
have been laid under some mysterious restraints, and have suffered
deeply already. And now, my gracious lord, I submit myself to your
awards."

"Alas, Lord Douglas, you are little aware of the treasure you have
lost. Your loss is even greater than mine. It behoves us, therefore, to
lament and bewail our misfortunes together, rather than indulge in
bitter upbraidings."

Here they were interrupted by the entrance of the Queen, who brought
with her the Lady Jane Howard, dressed in a style of eastern
magnificence, to introduce her to the King. The King, amid all the grief
that overwhelmed his spirit, was struck with her great beauty, and paid
that respect and homage to her which high birth and misfortune always
command from the truly great; and the Queen, with the newfangledness of
her sex, appeared wholly attached to this captive stranger, and had
brought her down at that time to intercede with the King and Lord
Douglas for her liberty, loading her with commendations and kind
attentions. To check the Queen's volatility of spirits, the King
informed her shortly of the irreparable loss both of them had suffered,
but the effect was manifestly not at all proportionate to the cause. She
appeared indeed much moved, and had well nigh fallen into hysterics; but
if her grief was not assumed, it bore strong symptoms of being so. She
first railed at, and then tried to comfort the Douglas; but finally
turned again to Lady Jane, (who wept bitterly, out of true sympathy, for
the Princess's cruel and untimely fate,) and caressed her, trying to
console her in the most extravagant terms. The King, on the other hand,
sobbed from his inmost soul, and bewailed his loss in terms so pathetic
and moving, that the firm soul of Douglas was overcome, and he entered
into all his Sovereign's feelings with the keenest sensations. It was a
scene of sorrow and despair, which was rather increased than mitigated
by the arrival of two more who had lately been sent for. These were the
monk Benjamin and the lady Mary Kirkmichael, whom the King began anew to
examine, dwelling on every circumstance that occurred during the course
of his darling child's extravagant adventure with a painful anxiety. But
every now and then he became heated with anger, blaming some one for the
want of discernment or respect. When he came to examine the monk, who
shewed great energy and acuteness of speech, he lost his temper
altogether at some part of the colloquy; but the monk was not to be
daunted; he repelled every invective with serenity of voice and manner,
and at sundry times rather put the monarch to shame.

"Hadst thou ever an opportunity of confessing and shriving my child,
previous to the time she fell into the hands of her enemies, reverend
brother."

"No Sire, she never made confession to me, nor asked absolution at my
hand."

"And wherefore didst thou not proffer it, thou shriveled starveling?
Were there no grants to bestow? no rich benefices to confer for the
well-being of a royal virgin's soul, that caused thee to withold these
poor alms of grace? Who was it that bestowed on thy unconscionable
order all that they possess in this realm? And yet thou wilt suffer
one of their posterity to come into thy cell, to ask thy assistance,
without bestowing a mass or benediction for the sake of heaven."

"Sire, it is only to the ignorant and the simple that we proffer our
ghostly rites. Those who are enlightened in the truths and mysteries
of religion it behoves to judge for themselves, and to themselves we
leave the state of their consciences, in all ordinary cases." The monk
was robed in a very wide flowing grey frock, and cowled over the eyes,
while his thin and effeminate-looking beard trembled adown his breast
with the fervency of his address. As he said these last words, he
stretched his right hand forth toward the King, and raising the left
up behind him, his robe was by that means extended and spread forth in
a manner that increased the tiny monk to triple the size he was
before. "And for you, King of Scotland," added he, raising his keen
voice that quavered with energy, "I say such a demeanour is unseemly.
Is it becoming the head and guardian of the Christian church in this
realm,--him that should be a pattern to all in the lower walks of
life,--thus to threat and fume beneath the chastening of his Maker?
You ask me who bestowed these ample bounds on my order? I ask you in
return who it was that bestowed them on thy progenitors and thee, and
for what purpose? Who gave thee a kingdom, a people, and a family of
thy own? Was it not he before whose altar thou hast this day kneeled,
and vowed to be for him and not for another? And what he has bestowed
has he not a right to require of thee again, in his own time, and in
his own way?" The King bowed with submission to the truth of this bold
expostulation, and the impetuous and undaunted monk went on: "It is
rather thy duty, most revered monarch, to bow with deep humiliation to
the righteous awards of the Almighty, for just and righteous they are,
however unequal they may appear to the purblind eyes of mortal men. If
he has taken a beloved child from thee, rest assured that he has only
snatched her from evil to come, and translated her to a better and a
happier home. Why then wilt thou not acknowledge the justice of this
dispensation, and rather speak comfort to the weaker vessels than give
way to ill-timed and unkingly wrath.

"As for thee, noble lord, to the eyes of men thine may appear a hard
lot indeed. For the love of one thou adventuredst thy life and the
very existence of thy house and name. The stake was prodigious, and
when thou hadst won it with great labour and perseverance, the prize
was snatched from thy grasp. Thy case will to all ages appear a
peculiarly hard one; still there is this consolation in it--"

"There is no grain of consolation in it," said Douglas interrupting
him: "There can be none! The blow on my head, and my hopes of
happiness, is irretrievable."

"Yes lord, there is," said the monk; "for has it not been decreed in
heaven above, that this union was never to be consummated? Man may
propose and scheme and lay out plans for futurity, but it is good for
him that the fulfilment is vested in other hands than his. This then
is consolation, to know that it was predestinated in the counsels of
one who cannot err, that that royal maid never was to be thine; and
therefore all manner of repining is not only unmanly and unmeet, but
sinful. It behoves now thy sovereign, in reward of thy faithful
services, to bestow on thee another spouse with the same dowry he
meant to bestow on his daughter. And it behoves you to accept of this
as the gift of heaven, proffered to thee in place of the one it
snatched from thy grasp. As its agent, therefore, and the promoter of
peace, love, and happiness among men, I propose that King Robert
bestow upon thee this noble and high born dame for thy consort. Both
of you have been bereaved of those to whom you were betrothed, and it
cannot fail to strike every one that this seems a fortune appointed
for you two by Providence; nor can I form in my mind the slightest
objection that can be urged to it on either side. It is desirable on
every account, and may be the means of promoting peace between the two
sister kingdoms, wasted by warfare and blood, which every true
Christian must deplore. I propose it as a natural consequence, and a
thing apparently foreordained by my master; and give my voice for it.
King and Queen of Scotland what say you?"

"I hold the matter that this holy and enlightened brother has
uttered to be consistent with truth, reason, and religion," said the
King,--"and the union has my hearty and free approval. I farther
promise to behave to this lady as a father to a daughter, and to
bestow upon our trusty and leal cousin, the Lord Douglas, such
honours, power, and distinction as are most due for the great services
rendered to this realm. The match has my hearty concurrence."

"And mine," said the Queen: "I not only acquiesce in the reverend
brother's proposal, but I lay my commands on my noble kinsman the Lord
Douglas to accept of this high boon of heaven."

"Pause my sovereign lady," said the Douglas, "before you proceed too
far. In pity to the feelings that rend this bosom, let me hear no more
of the subject at present. In pity to that lovely and angelic lady's
feelings, that must be acute as my own, I implore that you will not
insist farther in this proposal. Do not wound a delicate female
breast, pressed down by misfortunes."

"This is something like affectation, Lord Douglas," rejoined the
Queen: "If I answer for the lady Jane's consent, what have you then to
say against this holy brother's proposal?"

"Ay, if your Queen stand security for the lady's consent, and if _I
stand security for it likewise_," said the monk--"what have you to say
against the union then? Look at her again, lord. Is not she _a lovely_
and _angelic_ being? Confess the truth now. For I know it to be the
truth, that never since you could distinguish beauty from deformity,
have your eyes beheld _so lovely_ and _so angelic_ a lady? Pressed
down by misfortunes, too! Does that not add a triple charm to all her
excellencies? You know what has been done for her? what has been
suffered for her? what a noble and gallant life was laid down for
her? Was such a sacrifice ever made for a lady or princess of your
own country? No, never, heroic lord! Therefore bless your stars that
have paved out a way for your union with such a _lovely_, _angelic_,
and _matchless lady_; and take her! take her to your longing and
aching bosom."

"Moderate your fervour, holy brother," said the Douglas, "which
appears to me rather to be running to unwarrantable extremes. Granting
that the lady Jane Howard is perhaps unequalled in beauty and elegant
accomplishments----"

"Is she not so? Is she not so?" cried the monk with a fervour that
raised his voice to a scream of passion: "Did I not say that she was?
And now am I not warranted by your own sentiments, _freely expressed_
enough. Sure, lord, you cannot deny that I said, that I told you, the
lady was _peerless in beauty and accomplishments_? I knew it, and told
you before that she was the _queen of beauty_. Why then do you
hesitate, and make all this foolish opposition to an union which we
all know you are eager to consummate? Yes; you are: And we all know
it. You are!"

"Holy brother, what unaccountable phrenzy has seized upon you," said
the Douglas; "and why all this extravagant waste of declamation? Let
me not hear another sentence, nor another word on the subject: only
suffer me to finish what I had begun. I say then, granting that the
lady Jane were peerless in beauty and accomplishments, still there is
an impression engraven on my heart that can never be removed, or give
place to another; and there will I cherish it as sacred, till the day
of my death. And, that no reckless importunity may ever be wasted on
me again, here I kneel before the holy rood, which I kiss, and swear
before God and his holy angels, that since I have been bereaved of the
sovereign mistress of my heart and all my affections,--of her in whom
all my hopes of happiness in this world were placed, and who to me was
all in all of womankind--that never shall another of the sex be folded
in the arms of Douglas, or call him husband! So help me thou Blessed
One, and all thy holy saints and martyrs, in the performance of this
vow!"

During the time of this last speech and solemn oath, the sobs of the
monk Benjamin became so audible that all eyes were turned to him, for
they thought that his delicate frame would burst with its emotions.
And, besides, he was all the while fumbling about his throat, so that
they dreaded he had purposed some mortal injury to himself. But in
place of that, he had been unloosing some clasps or knots about his
tunick; for with a motion quicker than thought, he flung at once his
cowl, frock, and beard away,--and there stood arrayed as a royal bride
the Princess Margaret of Scotland! "Journeyer of earth, where art thou
now?"

Yes; there stood, in one moment, disclosed to the eyes of all present,
_the princess Margaret Stuart herself_, embellished in all the
ornaments of virgin royalty, and blooming in a glow of new born
beauties."

"Thank heaven I have been deceived!" cried she, with great emphasis;
and when she had said this, she stood up motionless by the side of
lady Jane Howard, and cast her eyes on the ground. No pen can do
justice to the scene. It must be left wholly to conception, after the
fact is told that no one present had the slightest conception of the
disguise save the Queen, who had been initiated into the princess's
project of trying the real state of the Douglas's affections on the
preceding night. It was like a scene of enchantment, such as might
have been produced at the castle of Aikwood. But a moment ago all was
sorrow and despair; now all was one burst of joyful surprise. And, to
make it still more interesting, there stood the two rival beauties of
Scotland and England, side by side, as if each were vying with the
other for the palm to be bestowed on her native country. But to this
day the connoisseurs in female beauty have never decided whether the
dark falcon eyes and lofty forehead of the one, or the soft blushing
roses and blue liquid eyes of the other, were the most irresistible.

The King was the first to burst from the silence of surprise. He flew
to his daughter's arms with more vigour than a cripple could well be
supposed to exert, kissed and embraced her, took her on his knee and
wept on her neck; then, striking his crutch on the floor, he scolded
her most heartily for the poignant and unnecessary pain she had
occasioned to him. "And the worst of it is," added he, "that you have
caused me show too much interest in an imp that has been the constant
plague of my life with her whims and vagaries; an interest, and an
intensity of feeling, that I shall be ashamed of the longest day I
have to live."

"Indeed but you shall not, my dear lord and father, for I will now
teaze another than you, and teaze him only to deeds of valour and
renown; to lead your troops to certain conquest, till you are fully
avenged of the oppressors of your people."

Mary Kirkmichael hung by her seymar and wept. The Douglas kneeled at
her feet, and in an ecstacy took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
"I do not know whether or not I shall have reason to bless heaven all
my life for this singular restoration," said he; "but for the present
I do it with all my heart. Tell me, thou lovely cameleon, what am I to
think of this? Wert thou indeed, as was related to me, the page Colin
Roy Macalpin? He with the carroty locks and the flippant tongue?"

"You need not doubt it, lord Douglas. I was. And I think during our
first intimacy that I teazed you sufficiently."

"Then that delicate neck of yours, for all its taper form and lily hue
is a charmed one, and rope proof; for, sure as I look on you now, I
saw you swing from a beam's end on the battlement of this same tower."

"Oh! no, no, my lord! It was not I. Never trust this head again if it
should suffer its neck to be noosed. _You_ suffered it though; that
you must confess. And I dare say, though a little sorry, felt a dead
weight removed from about your neck. You suffered me to be taken
prisoner out of your tent, and mured up among rude and desperate men
in a dungeon. It cost me all my wits then to obtain my release. But I
effected it. Swung from a beam's end. quoth he! Och! what a vulgar
idea! No my lord, the page whom you saw swung was a _tailor's
apprentice_, whom I hired to carry a packet up to your lordship, with
my green suit of clothes, and a promise of a high place of preferment,
and I kept my word to the brat! An intolerable ape it was. Many better
lives have been lost in this contention; few of less value--I never
deemed he was so soon to be strung, and my heart smote me for the part
I had acted. But the scheme of turning monk and confessor suited me
best of all: I then got my shacles of mystery riveted on you; and,
heavens! what secrets I have found out."

At this part of the narrative, Isaac the curate bestows a whole
chapter and a half on the description of the wedding, and all the
processions, games, and feasting that ensued; but as none of these
things bore the slightest resemblance to ought that has ever been
witnessed in the present age, like a judicious editor I have passed
them over. Suffice it that the Border never witnessed such splendor of
array, such tournaments, such feasting, and such high wassail. For
why? because it never witnessed the marriage of a king's daughter
before. The streets of the city, and the square of the fortress, that
had so lately been dyed with blood, now "ran red with Rhenish wine."
And be it farther known, that Sir Charles Scott and his horse Corbie
bore off every prize in the tilting matches, till at last no knight
would enter the lists with him; but the fair dames were all in
raptures with the gallantry of his bearing, and the suavity of his
manners. As for the Queen, she became so much enamoured of the hero,
that she was scarcely to be kept in due bounds, and if she had not
been advanced in years he might have deemed she was in love with him.
In the lists she drew up her snow-white palfrey by Corbie's side, and
in the revel hall the royal dame herself was sure to be at the
knight's side, except when at table, on pretence of hearing something
more about his perils at Aikwood, and in particular about the scene
with the beautiful and splendid witches; at which, as Sir Charles
related it with abashed countenance, the Queen and her Maries laughed
till the salt tears ran from their eyes. As for the description of
their appearance the succeeding morning, and the feelings of the
warrior, both then and afterward when transformed to a huge bull,
these never failed to throw the gamesome group into convulsions of
mirth. In short, the knight of Raeburn was of all the gallants quite
the favourite at that splendid festival in the hall, as well as the
hero in the lists, in which he six times received the prize of honour
from the hands of the royal bride and those of lady Jane Howard, who,
at the Queen's earnest request was made principal bride's-maid, and
presiding lady at the sports.

But if Charles was the hero of those engaged in the games, his friend
the gospel friar was as completely so among the gay onlookers, and
created them more sport often than all in the lists. Ever since the
various affrays in which his mule had been engaged, and come off with
such decided success, the mongrel had learned to value himself solely
as a beast of warfare, and no man who rode near him was sure of
keeping his seat a minute, especially if he rode a high mettled and
capricious charger. By the side of a horse of modesty that bore
himself with candour and humility of countenance, the mule was a beast
of sociality and decorum; but whenever he saw a steed begin to cut
any unnecessary capers, he deemed himself insulted or put to the
challenge, and on the instant began to lay back his long ears and
switch with his tail, while his grey sunk eyes emitted a hellish
gleam. It was no matter at what distance such a horse made his
appearance, if the mule disliked his deportment, he would have flown
across a whole field to attack and humble him. He had borne his master
headlong into so many unpremeditated and unwarrantable scuffles since
his return from Aikwood, that he had bestowed on him the name of
Goliah of Gath; and besides giving him that veteran title, he often
averred that he believed one of the necromancer's imps of darkness had
taken possession of his beast.

The friar had, however, learned to distinguish all his motions, and
knew from these the exact points and stages of his irritation; and
when his offence began to reach its acme, he had no other resource
than that of wheeling his head forcibly around, and turning his tail
toward the object of his displeasure. Without this precaution, the
friar would have been carried into the lists every day merely to
gratify the spleen of Goliah, who could not endure the curvetting and
jangling that was going on there. And even this inverse precaution did
not at all times prove effectual, as in the following pleasant
instance.

It chanced one day that the knight of Kraeland entered the lists
alone, no opponent appearing against him, owing to some mistake made
in the arrangement by the officers. He was a goodly youth, but
uplifted above the earth with vanity, and of his vapouring and airs
there were no end. Imagining that he attracted the eyes of all the
beholders, and elated because no one had the courage to appear against
him, for so he affected to regard the circumstance, he paraded the
circle round and round, brandished his lance, and made his horse to
curvette, rear, and wheel, accomplishing many grand evolutions. The
lookers on were all beginning to get sick of him, and to view his
vaporous manoeuvres with disdain, but amongst them all there was
none so much moved with spleen as Goliah of Gath. From the first
moment that the knight entered the lists that uncircumcised Philistine
began to manifest a mortal dislike towards him; the more so it
was believed that he was mounted on a milk-white steed, a colour
peculiarly disagreeable to the mule's optics. The judges of the games
wist not what to do, and appealed to the King, who gave it as his
opinion that this unchallenged appearance should be accounted as a
victory, and that the knight should take his course in the next round;
and the heralds got directions to make proclamation accordingly.

But long before this period the friar had been compelled to turn away
the face of Goliah from this scene of vanity, and, as chance would
have had it, he was in the innermost circle, so that retreat outward
through the innumerable files was utterly impracticable, and there sat
the gruff uncourtly form of the gospel friar, with the tail of his
beast where the head should have been, to the great amusement of the
spectators. For all this the malevolent eye of Goliah, as well
accustomed to look backward as forward, perceived all the outrageous
rearings and snortings of that proud and gaudy animal, and became
moved with so much indignation that he would no longer be restrained,
either by bit or spur, soothing or threatening. Just as the herald had
taken his place to make proclamation, the mule fell a running
backward; and the more fiercely that the friar spurred, and the more
bitterly he threatened, the beast of Belial retrogaded the faster,
till at last, after two or three intemperate plunges, he got his head
straight to the white charger, and then in one moment he was upon him,
and had him by the brisket with his teeth. The horse reared furiously,
but the mule pressed still closer to him, fixing his long teeth in the
horse's shoulder, till on a sudden, in an attempt to clear both
Goliah and his rider, or, at least, to leap over the mule's neck, the
white steed was overturned, and thrown right on his back, above his
overweening rider. All this was transacted in a space of time shorter
than the time taken up in reading the relation; and the moment that
Goliah of Gath had achieved this overthrow, he wheeled about with a
mettledness and inveteracy beyond all description, and attacked the
couple with his heels, prostrate as they were, yerk for yerk,
indiscriminately. The friar sunk the rowels of his spurs to the head
in his sides, and uttered some strong declamatory sentences against
him in the style of the nations of the East; but Goliah plied his
iron-heels still the faster, although he groaned, as he kicked, in the
bitterness of his spirit. The scene was perfectly irresistible,
grievous as the consequences threatened to be on the one side. The
lists were all in convulsions of laughter, and involuntary shouts of
applause shook the storeys of the firmament. The King laughed till he
sunk down in his litter, and his attendants had some fears that he
would expire in a convulsive fit. The knight of Kraeland was carried
out of the lists, maimed, and in a state of insensibility; and the
friar, maugre all he could advance in opposition to the award, was
proclaimed the victor in that course, and obliged to appear in the
next encounter in opposition to the knight who had been the conqueror
in the preceding combat.

Had Goliah of Gath restrained his wrath when this conquest was
achieved, it would have been all very well, save for Kraeland and his
white charger; but the mongrel's wrath once aroused was not easily
abated. Therefore, when the friends of the fallen knight and his
squire forced the Philistine to forego his attack and battery, his
gleaming eyes glanced all around for another proper object whereon to
wreak his horrid revenge. Now it so happened, that the Queen and her
Maries were all mounted on white palfreys; and as these stood in the
inner circles, arching their proud necks, and champing the bits, he
was moved with choler against them, and resolved within himself to
give them a surprise, and shew them the prowess of a veteran warrior;
for, over and above their saucy demeanor, the glaring whiteness of
colour that pervaded them and their riders his heart could not endure:
And, besides all these, the shouts and laughter of the multitude were
thought to have added greatly to his ire. The friar, who knew him
well, said so; "for" added he, "the shouts of joy and laughter are
unto him as a portion of gall and of worm-wood." Certes, when he was
driven from the prostrate champion, by dint of club and lance, he
straightway laid back his long ears, and with a swiftness hardly
imaginable, scoured the plain to the attack of the dames and their
strutting genets. The friar soon perceived the dangerous dilemma into
which he was about to be precipitated; and, all unable to restrain
this champion of the Philistines, he cried out with a loud voice, "O
wretched man that I am! lo, I shall work destruction among the
daughters of women! Will no man come to the assistance of those who
have no strength of man at all? Wo is me! will the mighty men stand
and look on till the daughters of their people are cut off from the
face of the earth?"

Long ere this sentence had proceeded out of the friar's mouth, the
work of deray and confusion was begun. The column of white palfreys
were routed in one moment, and their gentle and affrighted riders
kicked off in pairs, like so many diving swans. Never was there a
warrior like Goliah of Gath! for he tore with his teeth, and struck
with both hind feet and fore feet, all at the same instant. The Queen
of Scotland would in all probability have been laid low with the rest,
had it not been for the prowess of her favourite hero, who sprung from
Corbie's back, and seized the audacious mule by the bridle. "Smite
him, my son!" cried the friar, with a loud voice: "Draw thou forth thy
sword, and smite him to the earth, for it is better for him to die
than to live."

The mule thought to prove contumacious at the first; but feeling
Charlie's powerful grasp, he calmed himself, turned the one ear back,
the other forward, and switched his tail, listening with much
gratification to the hysterical cries of the discomfited damsels. Not
so his master, who was grieved in spirit, and very wroth with his old
servant and companion; insomuch that when he alighted from his back,
and seized his curb, he exclaimed, "O thou limb of the wicked
one! Thou emblem of the evil principle working in the children of
disobedience! What shall I do unto thee? Lo, now, if I had a sword in
mine hand, would I not strike thy head from off thy body, and cause
thee to be buried with the burial of an ass?" The mule let his ears
fall down very wide asunder, like the horns of a Lancashire ox,
putting on a face of great humility, as he looked out from beneath his
heavy eyebrows, with many a sly demure glance at the friar's face. The
good man led him around the lists in search of an opening to get out,
for he durst not again mount him for fear of being instrumental in
some farther outrage among the ranks of the great and the noble. As he
passed by the King, his Majesty caused him to be called up into his
presence, and asked him what sum it would please him to ask as the
price of his mule?

"Verily, my lord, O King," answered the friar, with great readiness,
"that beast hath been unto thy servant as a friend and an inheritance.
He hath borne me over the mountains of Palestine, and hath drunk from
the fords of Jordan, as well as from Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of
Damascus. Yea, bestriding that woful beast, hath thy servant fought
the battles of the cross; and the hooves that have in thy sight been
lifted up against the fair and the lovely, the meek and the innocent,
have been dyed red in the blood of infidels. Money is of no avail to
thy servant; and he cannot part with his old and trusty companion,
even though the spirit of those that are cursed from the heavens be in
him."

"Then wilt thou come thyself unto me at the Scottish court?" said the
King to him, somewhat in his own style,--"and I will cherish both thee
and thy doughty companion, and thou shalt minister unto me in holy
things, and shalt be unto me as a father, and I and my children will
be to thee as sons and as daughters; for my trusty and well tried
friend, Sir Ringan of Mountcomyn, saith well of thee and of thy great
wisdom, valour, and prudence."

"Verily, most noble King, I have yet many things to accomplish in
other lands than this, which, by the strength of the Lord, must be
fulfilled; when these are finished, then shall thy servant come unto
thee, and visit thee for good."

"And thou shalt be a welcome guest," said the King: "Wear thou this
ring for my sake, which I give thee as a pledge of friendship, and of
protection through my kingdom. Remain in the lists, for thou hast yet
battle to do against two knights of the lance and the sword."

"Lo, I will even strike with the sword and the spear, if my lord the
King commandeth it. But I lack armour, and am not a man of war, save
when the lives of the innocent or the cause of the cross is at stake.
And, moreover, the beast that thou seest is as a beast of the
bottomless pit; he hath antipathies and sympathies of his own; and
instead of bearing me full force against my opponent, he may carry me
to make war against women and children. Nevertheless, I will do all
that it behooveth me to do. Who are my adversaries?"--He was told they
were the knights of Gemelscleuch and Raeburn.--"Then God do so to me,
and more also, if I lift up my hand against any of these my brethren,
the men of my right hand, and the preservers of my life. Neither will
one of them put his spear in rest against me; so that the battle would
perish. Thy servant is not afraid to fight, but as a gladiator he is
unwilling to exhibit; therefore my lord, O King, suffer him to depart
in peace."

These reasons were cogent, so the King admitted them; and the worthy
and heroic friar was suffered to lead off Goliah of Gath, amid
thundering shouts of applause.



CHAP. XI.

     This general doctrine of the text explained, I proceed, in what
     remains of this discourse, to point out to you three important and
     material considerations concerning the nature and character of
     woman. These shall be, _1stly_, What she was; _2dly_, What she is;
     and, _3dly_, What she will be hereafter. And are not these, my
     brethren, matters of high importance?

        _Dickson's Sermons._


All things of this world wear to an end, saith Isaac; so also did this
high Christmas festival within the halls and towers of Roxburgh. The
lady Jane had borne a principal share in all the sports, both in and
out of doors. In the hall she was led up to every dance, and in the
lists she presided as the queen of the games, distributing the prizes
with her own fair hands to the Scottish heroes, and, of course,
crowning her old friend Charlie with the bays at least once a day. Sir
Charles was a most unassuming character, and seldom adventured
on addressing his superiors first. But when once they addressed
discourse to him, he never failed answering them with perfect ease and
unconcern; and often, as is well known ere this time, with more
volubility than he himself approved of. Once, and only once during all
these days of his triumph and high honours, did the lady Jane remember
him of having brought her into captivity, and of the high bribe he had
refused for her liberty. "An' if it be your will, honoured lady, I
wish ye wadna say ony mair about that matter," said Sir Charles; "for
mony queer fidgetty kind o' feelings I hae had about it sinsyne. And
if I had kend then what I ken now,--if I had kend wha I had in my
arms, and what I had in my arms, I had nae borne the honours that I
wear the day. My heart had some sair misgiving aince about you, when
there were hard news gaun of your great jeopardy; but now that you are
in sic high favour, I am e'en glad that I brought you, for troth ye
hae a face and a form that does ane good to look at."

The lady Jane only sighed at this address, and looked down, thinking,
without doubt, of the long and dismal _widowhood_ which it would
behoove her to keep for the dismal end of her betrothed knight, and
then a virgin widowhood too, which was the worst of all. There was an
obscure glimpse of the same sort of ideas glanced on Charlie's mind as
he viewed her downcast blushing countenance; and afraid of giving
birth to any painful sensations in such a lovely lady's mind, he
desisted from further conversation.

The Queen was still so much interested in that lady as to endeavour by
all means to procure her liberty without any ransom, somewhat contrary
to her son-in-law's opinion. The Queen reasoned, that she was not a
lawful prisoner of war; the Douglas that she was, there being no bond
of peace subsisting between the nations, and she entering Scotland
with forged credentials, at least signed and sealed in favour of
another and non-existing person. She applied to the King, who gave his
consent, but, at the same time, professed having nothing to do in the
matter. At length she teazed Lord Douglas so much that he resolved to
indulge her Majesty before the court took leave of him, but to leave
it until the very last day. He, however, reckoned before his host; for
now that the abbot of Melrose had conjoined him with royalty, he found
that he had at the very least two to please instead of one.

Here, we must, with that regard to veracity which so well becomes
every narrator of a true tale, divulge a disagreeable secret; that is,
we must delineate truly a trait in the character of our heroine, the
lady Douglas, (lately the princess Margaret of Scotland,) which we
would rather have concealed, had it been possible to have done so. But
she could not conceal it any longer herself,--and why should Isaac and
I vex ourselves about it; for one day when Mary Kirkmichael waited on
her in her chamber, she found her drowned in tears, and with great
perplexity, and no less curiosity, set herself to discover the cause.

"What? My dearest and most noble lady in tears?" exclaimed she. "Now,
a plague on these teazing, battling, boisterous, deluding creatures
called men, that will not let poor innocent maids alone to live at
heart's ease, but hold them thus in constant ferment, married or
unmarried! Well did I ween from experience, that the maiden's troubles
were the most insufferable to be borne! The neglects--the disappointed
hopes--the fears--and, above all, the jealousies! Oh these jealousies!
What infernal tormentors they are! But now little wot I what to say,
or what to think; for beshrew me if I remember the time when I saw my
royal mistress in tears before. Let me recollect. No, not since dame
Mary Malcolm's palfrey leaped the ravine before the lords of Huntly
and Athol, and yours refused. Then, indeed, you wept; and when I
laughed you struck me. Yes, you know you struck me, and that had
nearly made matters worse."

"Pray, madam," said lady Douglas, "could you conveniently command
yourself so far as to bring a surgeon here on the instant?"

"A surgeon! Sanct Marie's grace! what is your ailment, my dearest
lady?"

"It is not for myself, it is for you I want him. You are very ill of a
quinsey, dame, and bleeding below the tongue is necessary. Go bring
my father's leech to me, without delay, and come with him."

"You have not forgot your sweet maiden frolics for all that is come
and all that is done. Well, I am glad you are still in that whimsical
humour. I was afraid you were grievously vexed or disappointed at
something in your new state."

"Step forth, I say, and bring me in a surgeon, for I insist on having
you bleeded under the tongue. You are very ill indeed, and the disease
is infectious."

"By my maidhood, and by your own, sweet lady, (the Douglas's I mean,)
there shall no leech that ever drew lancet open a vein in my blessed
and valuable member. No, not were it to humour a queen, or a _lady
Jane Howard_."

"Now, may all the plagues that prey on the heart of woman seize and
torment thee if thou hast not guessed the cause of my uneasiness.
There's a latent devil within thee that whispers to thy imagination
the thoughts that are passing in my heart. O Kirkmichael, I am ill! I
have suffered many distresses in my time! many, many distresses!"

"Yes, indeed you have, my royal mistress! many, many distresses!"

"Bring the surgeon, I say. Cannot you, for the life of you, compose
yourself for a little space, when you see me in such distress? Your
royal mistress, Mary? I am no royal mistress now! No, I a'nt! Nothing
but a plain jog-trot wife of a lord, or earl, or how do you call that
beautiful title? While the lady Jane Howard!--Oh Kirkmichael, I cannot
tell you the half of what I feel!"

"I know it all. Jealousy! my dear lady, jealousy! Think you I know not
what it is to suffer that? Do you remember young Spinola, that came to
our court from the places abroad? He loved me the best after all; I
had certain demonstrative proofs of it. But do you know what I
suffered? Racks, tortures, strangulations! Fiends tearing out my eyes,
pouring hellebore into my ears, and boring through my heart with red
hot irons! Not know what jealousy is? Was not I telling your royal
self the last minute"--

"Mary! stop, and be advised. You are very ill."

"I humbly ask forgiveness. I was coming to it. Dear lady, I have noted
your trouble these nine days past, and that it was still gaining
ground. But I can partly account for it, so that, with a little
prudence and patience, it may be removed. Ever since the day on which
you was a bride, or the one following perhaps, there has been more
court and more flattery paid to the southern beauty than to the
northern one. It is the course of nature, madam; you are now a married
wife, and your charms must be admired at a distance with respect and
awe. The maid must still be courted and flattered. Quite natural,
madam, I assure you. Think you any knight durst caper and bow, and
prate to the lady Douglas, as they do to _the English puppet_?"

"Mary, I will give you all my wedding apparel for these two last
words. Is not she a mere puppet, without soul or magnanimity?
But--Mary!--How gladly would I change places with her, Mary! She has
conquered after all. Yes: She has conquered Margaret Stuart, there is
no denying of it to one's own heart."

"Gramercy, dearest lady, are you not raving? Has not the noble lord of
your adoption proved victorious, and gained you with all honour and
approbation?"

"But then the lord of _her_ adoption _died_ for her, Mary. Think of
that. The gallant, faithful, and magnanimous Musgrave _died_ for the
mistress of his affections. But who died for the poor degraded lady
Margaret of Scotland? I am conquered with my own weapons. There is no
denying of it! I would rather that one lover had laid down his life
for me than have had fifty husbands."

"Palpably wrong! I'll prove it. Fifty husbands! How delightful--Beg
pardon, madam."

"I tried the Douglas hardly for it. But he was too selfish, and would
not die for me. Base, cruel knight! No, he _would not_ die for me;
even though I got him to believe that I was put to death, and my
ghost haunting him, yet he _would not_ kill himself. What a value
those monstrous men set upon their lives! Musgrave died. Lady Jane has
conquered, and I am _married_! I wish I were dead, Kirkmichael!"

"'Tis a pity but that you were, madam! If ladies are to live on these
terms with the world, they had better be out of it. For you know if
the man that one loves best will not condescend always to die when the
gratification of his mistress' vanity requires it, why there is an end
of all endurance. I managed otherwise with young Spinola."

"Mention the name of your Spinola again to me for the head that stands
on your body, since you deprecate the more gentle prescription of
bleeding below the tongue; and now find me some anodyne without delay
for the distemper that is preying on my vitals. None of your jeers and
your jibes, Kirkmichael, for I am not in humour to bear them. The
worst thing of all is yet to come. This puppet,--this painted
doll,--this thing of wax! after triumphing over me in my own country
and among my own people,--after being died for, while I was only
lived for,--after being courted, and flattered, and smiled on, while I
was only bowed to and gazed on,--after being carressed by my father,
and bedaubed with praises by my newfangled and volatile mother,--after
all this, I say, there is she going to be set at liberty, and without
all question wedded to one of the royal dukes, one of the princes of
the blood! How shall the blood of the Bruce and the spirit of the
Stuart brook this? Before I heard of that lady's name, I knew not what
jealousy was. Ever since that time has she held me in misery. I
thought I had once achieved the greatest conquest that ever was
accomplished by heroine. And I _did_ seize a noble prize! How has it
turned out?--in every instance to her honour, and my disparagement.
And there, through the unnatural fondness of my doating mother, will
she return home, and be courted for her princely fortune, not for her
beauty I am sure! But then, they will hear that the bravest and most
chivalrous knight in England _died for her_; and as certainly as I
speak to you, will she achieve a higher marriage than Margaret, and
how shall she ever show her face again?"

"A higher marriage than you, dearest lady? Then must she be married to
some of the kings on the continent, for in all the dominion of England
there is not a subject of such power as your lord, the Earl of Douglas
and Mar, nor one whose military honours flourish so proudly."

"My lord and husband is all that I could wish in man, only----"

"Only that he is _not dead_. That's all."

"You had better! _Only_ I say that he is not _a prince of the blood
royal_, Mary. Think of that. There are many such in England. And there
to a certainty will my great and only rival be wedded to one of these.
The Duke of York or Glocester, mayhap; or to Prince Henry, the heir of
the house of Mortimer, and then she'll be _a queen_! Yes, Kirkmichael!
then she will be _queen of England_!--And I--what will I be? No more
than plain _Lady Douglas_! The wife of the _Black Douglas_!--Och! what
shall I do, Mary? I'll go and wipe my shoes on her as long as I have
it in my power."

"Tarry for a small space; there is time enough for that afterward, my
dearest lady. Be staid for a little while, till I tell you a secret. A
very important and profound one it is, and it behoves you to know it.
There is a certain distemper that young newly married ladies are
subjected to, which, is entitled PHRENZY, or some such delightful
name. Some call it _derangement of intellect_, but that is too long a
name, I hate long names, or very long things of any sort. So you must
know, madam, that this delightful trouble, for it is delightful in its
way, produces a great deal of animation. It is quite proper you
should know this grand matrimonial secret, madam. This delicious,
spirit-stirring trouble then soon goes off, and when it goes all the
giddy vapours of youth fly with it. The mirror of the eye is changed,
its convex being thence turned inward, reflecting all nature on the
soul in a different light from that in which it had ever appeared
before; and, at the same time the whole structure and frame of the
character is metamorphosed, and the being that is thus transmuted
becomes a more rational and respectable creature than it was previously,
and at the same time a more happy one, although it must be acknowledged
its happiness is framed on a different model. This is my secret, and it
is quite proper that every _young_ lady who is married should be
initiated into it. As for the old ones, they are too wise to be
initiated into any thing; or for any thing to be initiated into them."

"Now, you imagine you have said a very wise thing; and it is not
without shrewdness. But I can add a principal part which you have
wholly left out, and it is this: When the patient is labouring under
this disease, it is absolutely necessary that she be indulged, and
humoured in every one of her caprices, else her convalesence is highly
equivocal. Don't you acknowledge this?"

"I grant it. And the first case that comes under my care I promise to
abide by this prescription."

"That is spoken like yourself,--like the trusty friend and
confidante. What then is to be done? for something must be done, and
that suddenly."

"That is easily decided. She must be kept in confinement. Kept here a
prisoner at large, until she turn an old maid and lose a few of her
fore-teeth. That will be delightful! Eh! Then make her believe all the
time that it is a duty incumbent on her to remain in that widowed
state for the sake of Musgrave--Hoh! beg pardon, madam!"

"I charge you never to let that triumph of hers sound in my ears
again. It creates the same feeling within me as if you informed me
that an adder was laced in my stays. Kirkmichael, you never took any
thing in hand that you did not accomplish for me. This lady must be
retained for the present, till we can determine on some other course.
I gave my lord a lesson about it already, but his reply was not only
unsatisfactory but mortifying in the extreme. It has almost put me
beside myself, and my pride will not suffer me to apply to him again.
"My dearest love," said he, "I pray that you will not shew a a
sense of any inferiority by a jealousy of that unfortunate lady."
Inferiority! I never had such a sentiment as a feeling of inferiority!
What absurd notions these men imbibe. Is it possible, Mary, that I can
have a sense of inferiority?"

"No, no! quite impossible! Think no more of such antiquated and absurd
apothegms as these. I will manage it for you. I take in hand to keep
her as long as I live, if that will satisfy you. But are you sure that
your brother will not fall in love with her, and marry her, and then
she will be queen of Scotland?"

"Ooh!--Oooh! Give me a drink, Mary. I am going into fits! Ooh!--Yes:
as sure as you stand there, he will. The prince is his mother all
over, newfangled and volatile in the extreme, and amorous to an
intolerable degree. Disgustingly amorous, she is the very sort of food
for his passion. Then her princely fortune, and the peace of the two
realms! Oh! give me another drink, Mary; and bathe my hands--and my
brow--That is kindly done. Queen of Scotland! Then I must pay court
to her,--perhaps be preferred as lady of the bed-chamber. No, no. To
the Scottish court she _must not go_!"

"Be calm, my sweet lady! I have it. You shall assume your brother's
character once more--pay court to her--seduce her, and have her
disgraced."

"What did you say, Kirkmichael? repeat that again. What did you say
about disgracing? I am so very ill."

"O no! That scheme will not do. It will end ill! it will end ill! You
are lady Douglas now, not the maiden princess. Why, I will get her
married to one of your footmen for you. That will do."

"Prithee speak of things possible, and within some bounds of
probability. If she were but married to a knight but one step below my
lord in dignity, I would be satisfied. Nay, were that step only ideal
it would give my heart content."

"Is that then so much to make such a pother about? I will accomplish
it in two days. So difficult to get a maid of her complexion to marry?
Difficulty in fattening--a pig! baiting a hook for a bagrel!--a
stickleback!--a perch! I'll do it in two days--in one day--in half a
day, else never call me Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie again. Difficulty
in marrying a maid with light blue eyes--golden locks and rosy
cheeks--with a languishing smile always on her countenance? and that
maid an English one too? Peugh! Goodbye, my lady, Lady Black Douglas.
I'm off. (Opening the door again.) It is a shame and a disgrace for
any gentleman not to _die_ for his mistress! I say it is! Young
Spinola would have died for me cheerfully if I would have suffered
him,--that he would! Goodbye, madam."

Mary was as busy all the remaining part of that day as ever was a bee
in a meadow. She had private business with the Queen, and had art or
interest enough to get two private audiences. She had business with
the lady Jane Howard; a word to say to the King, and two or three to
the lord Douglas--But it is a great loss that these important
disclosures cannot be imparted here,--for every word that she told to
each of them was a profound secret! Not a word of it ever to be
repeated till death! What a loss for posterity! It had one quality,
there was not a word of truth in all this important disclosure; but an
ingenious lie by a woman is much more interesting than one of her true
stories. There was, however, one of Mary Kirkmichael's secrets came to
light, though none of those above-mentioned; and from the complexion
of that, a good guess may be made at the matter of all the rest.

Sir Charles Scott, alias Muckle Charlie of Yardbire, was standing at
the head of his hard-headed Olivers, his grimy Potts, and his
skrae-shankit Laidlaws, in all amounting now to 140 brave and well
appointed soldiers. He had them all dressed out in their best light
uniform, consisting of deer-skin jackets with the hair outside;
buckskin breeches, tanned white as snow, with the hair inside; blue
bonnets as broad as the rim of a lady's spinning wheel, and clouted
single-soaled shoes. He was training them to some evolutions for a
grand parade before the King, and was himself dressed in his splendid
battle array, with his plumes and tassels of gold. His bonnet was of
the form of a turban, and his tall nodding plumes consisted of three
fox tails, two of them dyed black, and the middle one crimson. A
goodlier sight than Sir Charles at the head of his borderers, no eye
of man (or woman either) ever beheld. As he stood thus giving the word
of command, and brandishing the Eskdale souple by way of example, in
the great square in the middle of the fortress, a little maid came
suddenly to his side and touched him. Charles was extending his voice
at the time, and the interruption made him start inordinately, and cut
a loud syllable short in the middle. The maid made a low courtesy,
while Charles stooped forward and looked at her as a man does who has
dropt a curious gem or pin on the ground, and cannot find it. "Eh? God
bless us, what is't hinny? Ye war amaist gart me start."

"My mistress requests a few minutes private conversation with you, sir
knight."

"Whisht dame! speak laigh," said Sir Charles, half whispering, and
looking raised-like at his warriors: "Wha's your mistress, my little
bonny dow? Eh? Oh you're nodding and smirking, are you? Harkee, It's
no the auld Queen, is it? Eh?"

"You will see who it is presently, gallant knight. It is a matter of
the greatest import to you, as well as your captain."

"Ha! Gude faith, then it maunna be neglected. I'll be w'ye even now,
lads; saunter about, but dinna quit this great four-nooked fauld till
I come back again. Come along, then, my wee bonny hen chicken. Raux up
an' gie me a grip o' your finger-ends. Side for side's neighbour
like." So away went Sir Charles, leading his tiny conductor by the
hand, and was by her introduced into one of the hundred apartments in
the citadel.

"Our captain is gaun aff at the nail now," said Will Laidlaw; "Thae
new honours o' his are gaun to be his ruin. He's getting far ower
muckle in favour wi' the grit fo'k."

"I wonder to hear ye speak that gate," said Gideon Pott of Bilhope: "I
think it be true that the country says, that ye maun aye read a
Laidlaw backward. What can contribute sae muckle to advance a
gentleman and his friends as to be in favour with the great?"

"I am a wee inclined to be of Laidlaw's opinion," said Peter Oliver of
the Langburnsheils, (for these three were the headsmen of the three
names marshalled under Sir Charles,)--"Sudden rise, sudden fa'; that
was a saying o' my grandfather's, and he was very seldom in the wrong.
I wadna wonder a bit to see our new knight get his head choppit off;
for I think, if he haud on as he is like to do, he'll soon be ower
grit wi' the Queen. Fo'k should bow to the bush they get bield frae,
but take care o' lying ower near the laiggens o't. That was a saying
o' my grandfather's aince when they wantit him to visit at the castle
of Mountcomyn."

"There is he to the gate now," said Laidlaw, "and left his men, his
bread-winners, in the very mids o' their lessons; and as sure as we
saw it, some o' thae imps will hae his simple honest head into Hoy's
net wi' some o' thae braw women. Wha wins at their hands will lose at
naething. I never bodit ony good for my part o' the gowden cuishes and
the gorget, and the three walloping tod tails. Mere eel-baits for
catching herons!"

"Ay weel I wat that's little short of a billyblinder, lad!" said Peter
Oliver; "I trow I may say to you as my grandfather said to the ghost,
'Ay, ay, Billy Baneless, 'an a' tales be true, yours is nae lie,' quo'
he; and he was a right auldfarrant man."

But as this talk was going on among the borderers, Sir Charles, as
before said, was introduced into a private chamber, where sat no less
a dame than the officious and important lady of all close secrets,
Mistress Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie, who rose and made three low
courtesies, and then with an affected faultering tongue and downcast
look, addressed Sir Charles as follows: "Most noble and gallant
knight,--hem--Pardon a modest and diffident maiden, sir knight!--pink
of all chivalry and hero of the Border: I say be so generous as
to forgive the zeal of a blushing virgin for thus presuming to
interrupt your warrior avocations.--(Sir Charles bowed.)--But, O
knight--hem--there is a plot laying, or laid against your freedom.
Pray may I take the liberty to ask, Are you free of any love
engagement?"

"Perfectly so, madam, at--hem!----"

"At my service. Come that is so far well. You could not then possibly
have any objections to a young lady of twenty-one or thereby, nobly
descended, heir to seven ploughgates of land, and five half-davochs,
and most violently in love with you."

"I maun see her first, and hear her speak," said the knight, "and ken
what blood and what name; and whether she be Scots or English."

"Suppose that you _have_ seen her and heard her speak," said the dame;
"and suppose she was of Fife blood; and that her name was _lady_ Mary
Kirkmichael: What would you then say against her?"

"Nothing at all, madam," said Sir Charles, bowing extremely low.

"Do you then consent to accept of such a one for your lady?"

"How can I possibly tell? Let me see her."

"O Sir Charles! gallant and generous knight! do not force a young
blushing virgin to disclose what she would gladly conceal. You _do_
see her, Sir Charles! You _do_ see her and hear her speak too. Nay,
you see her kneeling at your feet, brave and generous knight! You see
her _tears_ and you hear her _weep_,--and what hero can withstand
that? Oh Sir Charles!--

"Hout, hout, hout!" cried Sir Charles interrupting her, and raising
her gently with both hands, "Hout, hout, hout! for heaven's sake
behave yoursel, and dinna flee away wi' the joke athegither, sweet
lady. Ye may be very weel, and ye are very weel for ought that I see,
but troth ye ken a man maun do ae thing afore another, and a woman
too. Ye deserve muckle better than the likes o' me, but I dinna
incline marriage; and mair than that, I hae nae time to spare."

"Ah, Sir Charles, you should not be so cruel. You should think better
of the fair sex, Sir Charles! Look at this face. What objections have
you to it, Sir Charles?"

"The face is weel enough, but it will maybe change. The last blooming
face that took me in turned put a very different article the next day.
Ah, lady! Ye little ken what I hae suffered by women and witchcraft,
or ye wadna bid me think weel o' them."

"Well, knight, since I cannot melt your heart, I must tell you that
there is a plot against your liberty, and you will be a married man
before to morrow's night. It is a grand plot, and I am convinced it is
made solely to entrap you to marry an English heiress that is a captive
here, who is fallen so deeply in love with you that, if she does not
attain you for her lover and husband, her heart will break. She has made
her case known to the Queen, and I have come by it: therefore, sir
knight, as you value my life, keep this a _profound_ secret. I thought
it a pity not to keep you out of English connections; therefore I sent
for you privily to offer you my own hand, and then you could get off on
the score of engagement."

"Thank you kindly, madam."

"Well, Sir. On pretence of an appendage to the marriage of the king's
favourite daughter with the greatest nobleman of the land, before the
festival conclude, it is agreed on that there are to be a number of
weddings beside, which are all to be richly endowed. The ladies are to
choose among the heroes of the games; and this lady Jane Howard is
going to make choice of you, and the law is to be framed in such a
manner that there will be no evading it with honour. You have been a
mortal enemy to the English; so have they to you. Had not you better
then avoid the connection by a previous marriage, or an engagement
say?

"I think I'll rather take chance, with your leave, madam: Always
begging your pardon, ye see. But, depend on it, I'll keep your secret,
and am indebted to you for your kind intentions. I'll take chance.
They winna surely force a wife on ane whether he will or no?"

"Perhaps not. One who does _not incline marriage_, and has not _time
to spare_ to be married, may be excused. Tell me, seriously; surely
you will never think of accepting of her?"

"It is time to decide about that when aince I get the offer. I can
hardly trow what ye say is true; but if the King and the Warden will
hae it sae, ye ken what can a body do?"

"Ah, there it is! Cruel Sir Charles! But you know you really have not
a minute's _time to spare_ for marriage, and the want of _inclination_
is still worse. I have told you, sir knight, and the plot will be
accomplished to-morrow. I would you would break her heart, and
absolutely refuse her, for I hate the rosy minx. But three earldoms
and nine hundred thousand marks go far! Ah me! Goodbye, noble knight.
Be secret for my sake."

Sir Charles returned to his men in the great square, laughing in his
sleeve all the way. He spoke some to himself likewise, but it was only
one short sentence, which was this: "Three earldoms and nine hundred
thousand marks! Gudefaith, Corbie will be astonished."

It was reported afterwards, that this grand story of Mary's to Sir
Charles was was nothing at all in comparison with what she told
to lady Jane, of flames and darts, heroism, royal favour, and
distinction; and, finally, of endless captivity in the event of utter
rejection. However that was, when the troops assembled around the
fortress in the evening, and the leaders in the hall, proclamations
were made in every quarter, setting forth, that all the champions who
had gained prizes since the commencement of the Christmas games were
to meet together, and contend at the same exercises before the King,
for other prizes of higher value; and, farther, that every successful
candidate should have an opportunity of acquiring his mistress' hand
in marriage, with rich dowries, honours, manors, and privileges, to be
conferred by the King and Queen; who, at the same time gave forth
their peremptory commands, that these gallants should meet with
no denial, and this on pain of forfeiting the royal favour and
protection, not only towards the dame so refusing, but likewise to her
parents, guardians, and other relations.

Never was there a proclamation issued that made such a deray among the
fair sex as this. All the beauty of the Lowlands of Scotland was
assembled at this royal festival. The city of Roxburgh and the town of
Kelso were full of visitors; choke full of them! There were ladies in
every house, beside the inmates; and, generally speaking, three _at an
average_ for every male, whether in the city or suburbs. Yet, for all
these lovely women of high rank and accomplishments, none else fled
from the consequences of the mandate but one alone, who dreaded a
rival being preferred,--a proof how little averse the ladies of that
age were to the bonds of matrimony. Such a night as that was in the
city! There were running to and fro, rapping at doors, and calling of
names during the whole night. It was a terrible night for the
dressmakers; for there was such a run upon them, and they had so much
ado, that they got nothing done at all, except the receiving of orders
which there was no time to execute.

Next morning, at eight of the day, by the abbey bell, the multitude
were assembled, when the names of the former heroes were all called
over, but only sixteen appeared, although twenty-two stood on the
list. The candidates were then all taken into an apartment by
themselves, and treated with viands and wines, with whatever else they
required. There also they were instructed in the laws of the game.
Every one was obliged to contend at every one of the exercises;
and the conqueror in each was to retire into the apartment of the
ladies, where they were all placed in a circle, lay his prize at his
mistress's feet, and retire again to the sports without uttering a
word.

The exercises were held on the large plain south of the Teviot, so
that they were beheld by the whole multitude without any inconveniency.
The flowers of the land also beheld from their apartment in the castle,
although no one saw them in return, save the fortunate contenders in
the field. The first trial was a foot race for a chain of gold, given by
the lady Douglas, and all the sixteen being obliged to run, the sport
afforded by the race was excellent; for the eager desire to be foremost
acted not more powerfully to urge the candidates to exertion than the
dread of being the last, so that the two hindmost were straining every
nerve, and gasping as voraciously for breath as the two foremost. Sir
Charles Scott took the lead, leaving the rest quite behind, so far that
every one thought he would gain with all manner of ease, and they began
to hail him as conqueror. But owing to his great weight he lost breath,
and in spite of all he could do the poet made by him and won the prize,
which he took with a proud and a joyful heart, and laid at the feet of
Delany. "Bauchling shurf!" exclaimed Sir Charles, laughing when he saw
the poet passing his elbow, "Useless bauchling shurf! an I had kend I
wad hae letten ye lie, and been singit to an izle in the low o'
Ravensworth."

"Knight, I think ye hae lost," cried one.

"I think sae, too," said Charles. "I liket aye better to rin ahint an
Englishman than afore him a' my life."

The next game given out was a trial in leaping, for a pair of
bracelets, clasped with gold, and set with jewels, given by the Queen.
These also the poet won, and laid at Delany's feet. Sir Charles won
three; one for tilting on horseback, one for wrestling, and one for
pitching the iron bar, and he laid all the three prizes at the feet of
lady Jane Howard. Two lords won each of them two prizes, and other two
knights won each of them one; and all, unknown to one another, laid
them at the feet of lady Jane Howard.

When the sports of the day were finished, the seven conquerors, all
crowned with laurel, and gorgeously arrayed, were conducted to the
gallery where the ladies still remained; and after walking round the
room to the sound of triumphal music, they were desired to kneel one
by one in the order in which they had entered before, and each to
invoke his mistress's pity in his own terms. It fell to the poet's lot
to kneel first, who stretched forth his hands toward a certain point
in the room, and expressed himself as follows: "O lovely darling of my
soul! in whom my every hope is centered; at whose feet I laid my
honours down. This laurel wreath I also consecrate to thee. By all the
love that I have borne for thee, the pains that I have suffered, I
conjure you to raise me up, and say thou wilt be mine:--else here I'll
kneel till doomsday!"

A pause ensued; the King and his nobles looked on in breathless
curiosity, for they knew not where he had bestowed his favours. The
dames also gazed in envious silence, and in hopes that the supplicant
would be refused. He soon himself began to dread what they hoped; his
countenance changed; the wild lustre of his eye faded; and he began to
look around to see where he could get a sword on which to fall and
kill himself. He cast one other pitiful look to Delany, but she
deigned no movement to his relief,--still keeping her seat, though
visibly in great agitation. But, at length, when hope was extinct in
his bosom, there appeared one to his relief. This was no other than
his old rival the gospel friar, who had been admitted in an official
capacity, in order to join hands and bless unions if any such chanced
to be agreed on. He was standing ruminating behind backs; but seeing
the first offer about to be rejected, and aware of the force of
example, whether good or bad, and how little chance he had of
employment that day if the first effort misgave, he stepped briskly up
to Delany, and, taking her hand, said, "Lo, my daughter, have not I
travelled for thee in pain, and yearned over thee as a mother yearneth
over the son of her youth? Why wilt thou break my heart, and the heart
of him that burneth for thy love?" Delany then rose, and with
trembling step came toward her lover, led by the grotesque form of the
good friar. The tears gushed from the poet's eyes as she lifted the
laurel crown from the floor, and replacing it on his head, said, as
she raised him up, "Thou hast adventured and overcome. Hence be thou
the lord of my heart and affections."

The friar gave them no more time to palaver, but joined their hands,
pronounced them a married pair, and blessed their union in the name of
the Trinity. Then Sir Charles Scott kneeled, and, casting his eyes
gravely toward the floor, said only these words: "Will the lady whom I
serve take pity on her humble slave, or shall he retire from this
presence ashamed and disgraced."

Woman, kind and affectionate woman, is ever more ready to confer an
obligation on our sex than accept of one. Lady Jane arose without any
hesitation, put the crown on the knight's head, and, with a most
winning grace, raised him up, and said, "Gallant knight, thou wert
born to conquer my countrymen and me; I yield my hand and with it my
heart." The friar lost no time in joining their hands; he judged it
best and safest to take women at their first words; and short time was
it till the two were pronounced husband and wife, "and whom God hath
joined let no man dare to put asunder. Amen!" said the friar, and
bestowed on them an earnest blessing.--Isaac the curate expatiates
largely on the greatness and goodness of this couple; how they
extended their possessions, and were beloved on the Border. Their son,
he says, was the famous Sir Robert of Eskdale, the warden of the
marches, from whom the families of Thirlstane, Harden, and many other
opulent houses are descended. No union could be more happy; and
besides, it rendered the Lady Douglas the happiest of women, and Mary
Kirkmichael the proudest.

But to return to the scene in the gallery with the knights and their
mistresses. The King and his nobles who accompanied the gallants into
the apartment of the ladies, knowing nothing of the choices each had
made, expected great amusement from compliances and non-compliances;
and at all events, after so fair a beginning, a number of weddings to
be the result. Every one of the successful knights expected the same
thing; for it is a curious fact, which shows the duplicity of our
character in a striking light, that, when the champions were all in
the apartment together in the morning, some mentioned one lady as the
flower of the land and of all present, some mentioned another, and so
on. But no one ever mentioned the names either of _Delany_ or _Jane
Howard_. Sir Charles indeed mentioned no name, but when each had named
a pretended favourite with mighty encomiums, he only added, "I'll no
say muckle; but there's ane that I rank aboon a' thae."

The master of the ceremonies looked round to call the next champion to
kneel; but, behold, he was not there! He called the next again. He was
gone also! Every one of the knights had vanished, each thinking
_himself_ slighted by the preference given to Sir Charles Scott, but
none knowing that for his sake they were all slighted alike. The
noblemen were all in the utmost consternation; the King became highly
offended, and said "What is the meaning of this? Have these knights
dared to desert their colours on the very eve of action? This is not
only an affront put upon us, but upon our fair and noble visitors, of
whose honour and feelings we are more jealous than of our own."

But the friar, who was a man of peace, and disliked all sort of
offence, when he saw the King was displeased, took speech to himself,
and his speech set all the gallery into a burst of laughter. He was
standing in the midst of the floor, with his book in hand, ready and
eager to officiate still farther as a knitter and binder; but when he
saw the knights all fled, and the King offended, he uplifted both of
his hands and one of his feet, standing still on the other, and cried
with a loud voice, "Behold my occupation is ended! Woe is me for the
children of my people! For the spirit of man is departed away, and he
hath no strength remaining. Oh what shall I do for the honour of my
brethren! For, lo, the virgins are come to the altar, and there is
none to accept of the offering. The men of might are dismissed, yea
they are confounded and fled away, and the daughters of the land are
left to bewail the months and years of their virginity. Woe is me, for
my hand findeth nothing more to do!"

The ladies laughed immoderately at the cases of the forlorn and
discomfited knights; for they had witnessed the proceedings, and saw
that all their devotions were paid to one object; and as no lady of
Scotland had been chosen, one could not envy another,--so they
tittered and laughed off the affront as well as they could.

The friar got passports into England, and after much labour and pain
got the poet established in his father's possessions, and acknowledged
as the lord of Ravensworth. He also regained for him his lady's
possessions on the continent, which the Nevilles retained for the
space of two hundred years. That amiable couple cultivated the arts of
peace, music, and song, as long as they lived. After these things, the
friar was preferred to great emoluments in his old age, and he spent
them all in acts of charity and benevolence.

From Roxburgh the royal party proceeded to Melrose, where they remained
two days, which they spent partly in devotion and thanksgivings,
and partly in viewing the magnificent scenes in the neighbourhood,
particularly the great hill of Eildon, so lately reft asunder and
divided into three by the power of the elemental spirits. To this awful
theme the mind of the Queen still reverted; and, on her last visit to
these mountains, she passed through the recent chasms, gazing and
trembling at the effects produced by that tremendous convulsion of
nature; and, at length, she had spoken and dreamed so much about it,
that she proposed to go and visit the castle of Aikwood, and if possible
to get a sight of the great enchanter himself, before she left the
Border counties, where, she said, she might never be again. Every one
tried to dissuade her from the attempt, and the King got into a high
passion, but still she could not not be driven from her purpose. "As we
return to the abbey," said she, "we will go by the ford of Dornick-burn
at the foot of the deep dell that you told me of, where the devil first
made his appearance on horseback to the four warriors. I should not
wonder that we shall see him there again under some disguise."

"I would not wonder that we should," said Sir Charles: "I have been
told that he is sometimes seen there in the shape of a clerk;
sometimes as a mariner; and sometimes in the form of the King of
Scotland. Always begging your pardon, royal madam."

"There is no offence, Sir Charles, as long as you do not tell me that
he appears in the shape of a Queen. I hope he has never yet been known
to assume the shape of a woman."

"He has enow to appear for him in _that_ form, which I ken something
about to my cost; and which your royal majesty kens mair about than I
could have wished. What does your majesty account the greatest peril
that man is subject to in this world?"

"Oh war, war, certainly! Nineteen out of twenty of his perils
concentrate in that, or are derived from it."

"Ye may be thankfu' ye ken nae mair about it than that, my lady queen!
Aince ye gang near the castle of Aikwood ye'll get a little mair
experience perhaps. Now ye are determined on ganging there the morn,
and I am determined on accompanying you, since you will go. But troth
I would be right wae to see my queen turned into a cow, and a little
deil set to drive her; or into a grey mare, and a witch or warlock set
to gallop on her; or a doe, or a hare, or a she-fox, and a tichel o'
tikes set after her to tear her a' to tareleathers. Always begging
your pardon, my liege lady."

As they were chatting on in this familiar and jocular style, they came
to the identical little deep dell, at the meeting of two rivulets, or
moorland burns, where the devil and his three attendant imps had
appeared to our warriors on their way to Melrose; and, as Dan Chisholm
was of the party, the Queen caused him to be called up to describe the
whole scene,--with the personal appearance of the arch fiend,--the
words he spoke, and also the extraordinary course that he had with him
along the marble pavement of the air. All these matters were detailed
to her by the trooper with perfect seriousness and simplicity, which
made such an impression on the Queen's romantic and superstitious
mind, that her countenance altered in every feature, and she was every
now and then gazing around as if expecting Satan's personal appearance
before them once more. The party were sitting on horseback conversing
together, when the sharp eye of Sir Charles, well accustomed to the
discernment of all living or moving objects, whether by night or by
day, perceived a miserable looking wight approaching them by the very
path on which the infernal cavalcade had formerly proceeded. The Queen
was talking to Dan, still pushing her inquiries, when Sir Charles
touched her gently on the shoulder, and said, "Hush, your majesty. See
who is this approaching us by the very road that the deils took? It is
a question who we have here. Ane is nae sure of ony shape that appears
in sic a place and sic a time as this."

Then there was such crossing and telling of beads, and calling on the
names of saints, took place with the Queen and her ladies, every one
of them asking the same question in terrified whispers, "Is it he,
think you? Is it he? Oh, is it he?" Then there was a general request
made that they should take instant flight, and ride home to the abbey
full speed; but an opposition arose to this proposal from a quarter
not expected. This was from no other than Sir Charles' English lady,
whose education had taught her to despise the superstitions so
prevalent in Scotland; and seeing them all about to fly from a poor
wo-begone, half-famished wretch, she opposed it with indignation,
adding, that she would abide his coming by herself if none else would.
Sir Charles was still far from being clear about these matters, hard
experience having taught him caution; however, he commended his lady's
spirit, and drew up by her side: They rest marshalling behind them,
they awaited in a body the coming of this doubtful guest; and every
eye being fixed on his motions, so every tongue was busied in giving
vent to the spontaneous movements of the mind. "It is a palmer," said
one. "It is a warlock," said another. "It is the devil," said a third;
"I ken him by his lang nose!" "Aha, my royal and noble dames!" cried
Sir Charles exultingly: "If it be nae the deil, it's his man; sae we
may expect some important message, either frae his infernal majesty or
the great enchanter, for this is no other than his seneschal. My royal
liege, this man that you see approaching is no other than Gilbert
Jordan, the late laird of the Peatstackknowe, who was drawn by lot to
supply the room of the wretch whom our gospel friar sent up through
the clouds in a convoy of fire and brimstone. Whether this be Gibbie
or his ghaist, it is hard to say; but I ken weel by the coulter nose
it is either the one or the other. Your majesty will scrimply believe
it, but the last time I saw that carl the deil was hauding him by the
cuff o' the neck ower the topmost tower of the castle of Aikwood, and
the poor laird was sprawling like a paddock in a gled's claws, when
fifty fathom frae the ground. There is nought in nature I expected
less to see than that creature again in the land of the living; yet it
is actually he himself in flesh and blood, and that is all, for he is
worn to skin and bone, and his nose is even longer than it was! Hech,
laird, is this you? And are you indeed returned to the Christian world
aince mair?"

"Aye troth, Yardbire, it is a' that's to the fore of me. But who have
you got all here? Good-e'en to you, gentles. This brings me in mind of
a story, man, that I hae heard about the hunting of Stanebires' cat--"

"Whisht, Gibbie,and gie us nane o' your auld stories about cats even
now. This is the Queen of Scots and her attendants. Rather tell us, in
one word, how you have made your escape from yon infernal gang in the
castle of Aikwood?"

"Aha, Yardbire, that is a tale that winna tell in ae word, nor twa
neither; it wad take a winter night in telling, and it is the
awesomest ane that ever passed frae the lips o' man; but I am ower
sair forespent at this time to begin to it."

"Oh, no!" cried the Queen: "Honest man, do not begin it at present. It
shall serve for our evening's amusement, and you shall tell it before
your King and his nobles, after you have had such refreshment as you
stand in need of." She then caused one of her squires to alight, and
mounting the wearied and exhausted laird on his horse, they rode off
to Melrose, where, after a plentiful meal, the laird was brought into
the apartment where the King, the Queen, the abbot, with the nobles
and ladies of the court, were all assembled; and then, at the royal
request, he related to them the following narrative.



CHAPTER XII.

    Commissions and black bills he had,
    And a' the land went hey-gae mad,
      The like was never seen, joe:

           *       *       *       *       *

    To dance and caper in the air,
      And there's an end of him, joe.

        _Old Jacobite Song._


Weel, ye see, my masters and mistresses, this is what I never expected
to see. There is something sae grand in being in the presence of a
King and Queen and their courtiers, that it brings me in mind of the
devil and his agents that I have been in the habit of entertaining for
a month bygane. But there is some wee difference in masters for a'
that; for, in my late service, if I had been brought in to entertain
them, in an instant they would have had me transformed into some
paltry animal, and then amused themselves by tormenting that animal to
death, by dissecting it while living. But the queerest thing of all
was this,--there was aye a spark of life that they could not destroy,
which, for all their cruelties, remained active and intelligent as
before; and the moment they put that spark of life out of one animal,
they popped it into another, and there was I obliged to undergo the
same dismemberment and pain once more, and so on for ever. The
inflicting of torment was their chief delight, and of that delight
there was no satiety,--it seemed still to increase by gratification.

On the very first day that I entered on my probation they had a feast,
as my comrades know, and as I also have good reason to know, for on
that day I suffered death nine times; and yet I was Gibbie Jordan
again before night. They first turned me into a cock, and after the
three pages had chased me round the castle, and thrown stones at me
till I was hanging out my tongue, and could not cackle another lilt,
they seized me, took me into the scullery, and drew my neck. Ere ever
I was aware, they had me transformed into a huge lubberly calf, while
one of the hellish pages was dragging me by the neck with a prickly
rope made of hurcheon hides, and the two others were belabouring my
rumple with cudgels. I suspected their intentions, and being still
terrified for death, and inclining rather to suffer any thing, I drew
back, shook my head, and bellowed at them, while they still redoubled
their blows on my carcase, and cursed me. In spite of all I could do,
they dragged me gasping into the slaughter-house, kept the knife an
excruciating long time at my throat, and then, after piercing the
jugular vein, they laughed immoderately to see me running about,
bleeding to death, with my glazed stupid eyes; and when, through
faintness, I began to flounder and grovel on the floor, they laughed
amain, threshed me to make me plunge a little more, and when I could
do nothing farther than give a faint baa! they thought that the best
sport of all, and mimicked me.

I had scarcely ceased baaing as a calf, when I found myself a
beautiful cappercailzie, winging the winter cloud, and three devils of
falcons after me. 'Now,' thinks I to myself, 'If I do not give you
the glaiks now, my hellish masters, may I never wap a wing again. By
all the powers of swiftness, but I shall try for once if the feathers
shall not carry the flesh away.' Sanct Martha, as I did scour the rimy
firmament! I took the wind in my tail, but I went with such amazing
velocity that I left it behind me, and as I clove it, it seemed to
return in my face. I reached the shoulder of a lofty mountain, and
then I laid back my wings, and bolted through the air like a flash of
lightning. 'O ho! Messrs Hawks, where are you now?' thought I to
myself. Good Lord! ere ever I was aware, there was ane o' them
gave me a nab on the crown, that dovered me, and gart me tumble
heels-o'er-head down frae the shelves of the clouds; and lighting with
a dunt on the ground, I had nae shift but to stap my head in a heather
bush, and let them pelt at me till I got some breath again. Then I
made for a cottage, thinking the inmates could not but pity my
condition, and drive the hawks away from me. I took cover among their
cabbage, in the sight of both man and wife; but instead of pitying me,
the one came with an old spear, and the other with the tongs, to
finish my existence,--and always when the falcons came down on me with
their talons, the two cried out, "Weel done, little hawkie! Yether him
up! puik him weel!" I was forced to take wing again, till at length,
through fatigue and want of feathers I dropt close to the castle
whence I had set out, and the three falcons, closing with me, first
picked out my eyes and then my brains. I was stabbed as a salmon,
hunted as a roe-buck, felled as a bull, and had my head chopped off
for a drake. The dinner was made up of me. I supplied every dish, and
then was forced to cook them all afterward. It was no wonder that I
could not partake of the fragments of the meal.

From the moment that the Christian warriors were all dismissed with
disgrace from the castle, the devil became contumacious with the
Master, and assayed to carry matters with a very high hand. But he had
to do with one that would not succumb, no not in the smallest point,
but who opposed him with a degree of virulence of which even the
master fiend seemed scarcely capable. It was a scene of constant
contention and rage, and the little subordinate demons did not always
know which to obey. It was, if it please your Majesties, a scene acted
in terrible magnificence, of which I have seen several poor and
abortive emblems among mortal men. And henceforth I shall aways
believe and feel, when I see a family or society constantly involved
in disputes, wranglings, and angry emotions, that they are children of
the wicked one, and moved by the spirit of discord, that bane of the
human race.

"The worthy gentleman hath said well," said the abbot. "It is a moral
truth that can never be too deeply impressed, that _peace and love
only lead to happiness_. They are emanations from above, and the
contrary passions from beneath. All the fierce and fiery passions of
the soul are the offspring of hell fire. But a truce with preaching.
Honest friend go on with your strange relation, and acquaint us in
what manner his infernal majesty and the king of mortal magicians
spent their time."

In constant discord and jarring. The devil challenged the Master with
impotency in entertaining a poor crazy monk, and submitting to be
protected and even cowed by him; at which the Master took high
offence, and retorted in the bitterest terms; while the other always
hinted that he would make him repent his intercourse with that
preposterous and presumptive fool. So he termed our own worthy friar
and head chaplain.

In one thing only they agreed, and that was in abusing the witches.
Never were there poor deluded creatures guided in such a way as they.
The devil says to the Master one day in my hearing, "Brother Michael,"
says he, "I have an act of justice to perform to all our true and
trusty female lieges in this quarter. I gave them my princely word of
honour, that on their yielding themselves up souls and bodies to me
and to my service, they should all be married, and all to young and
goodly husbands too. That having been the principal, and almost the
only boon, the good consistent creatures required of me for the
sacrifice they made, they must not be disappointed." The Master
acquiesced, but at the same time remarked, with what I judged
unreasonable chagrin, that when he was keeping his word so punctually,
it betokened nothing good for those to whom he kept it.

Well, we had a witch's wedding every night for nine nights running;
but such extreme of wickedness is past all human comprehension, beyond
the possibility of description. The marriage ceremony itself, always
performed by a demon in the habit of a friar, was a piece of the most
horrid blasphemy ever conceived; and every night one of the witches
was married to the devil in disguise. Sometimes the bridegroom made
his appearance as a gay cavalier, sometimes as a country squire, a
foreign merchant, a minstrel, and a moss-trooper. The old wretch of a
bride was all painted by some devilish cantrip, and bedecked with
false jewels, and though she seemed always aware of the deceit in a
certain degree, from former experiences, yet it was wonderful with
what avidity each of the old creatures clung to her enamoured and
goodly husband! How they mumped and minced in their talking, and ogled
with their old grey ropy eyes! And then how they danced! Gracious me,
how they flung, and danced among the deils and the warlocks! and
capered and snapped their fingers, giving their partners often a jerk
on the nose or the temple as they passed and repassed in the reel, as
quick as green clocks on a pool. Then the bedding of the brides, these
surpassed all description; and as they had me fairly in thrall, I was
suffered to witness every thing. The first witch bride was led out at
the back door of the castle with much state and ceremony, into a place
that had been a bowling green, and in which there was nothing else
save a bowling green: Yet, to my amazement, there stood a bower of the
most superb magnificence; and there, in a chamber hung with gorgeous
tapestry that glittered all with gold and rubies, the loving couple
retired to their repose, and to all the delights and joys of so happy
an union. Then wishing them the greatest conjugal felicity, all the
gallants returned to the castle. But I, being curious to see what
would be the end of this grand pavilion in the bowling-green, which I
knew must be merely a delusion, avision, a shadow of something that
had no stability of existence, went up to the top of the castle, and
from a loop-hole sat and watched what was to be the end of this
phenomenon. I waited a good long while, and began to think all was
real, and that the splendid witch had met with a happy fortune,--for I
knew them too well to be all witches from former happy experience. But
at length the lusty bridegroom, as I supposed, began to weary of his
mate, for I saw the form of the bower beginning to change, and fall
flat on the top, and its hue also became of a lurid fiery colour. I
cannot tell your Majesties what sort of sensations I felt when I saw
the wedded couple sinking gradually down through a bed of red burning
fire, and the poor old beldame writhing to death in the arms of a huge
and terrible monster, that squeezed her in its embraces, and hugged
her, and caressed her till the spark of wretched life was wholly
extinguished. I saw distinctly by the light of the flame that
surrounded them, and marked every twist of the features, and every
quiver of the convulsed limbs; yet these were not more impressive than
the joy of the exulting fiend, who continued to caress and kiss his
agonized mate to the last, and called her his love, and his darling,
and his heart's delight. At length the distortions of the human
countenance reached their acme--the shrivelled bosom forgot to throb,
and, with the expiry of the mortal spark, the lurid flame that burnt
around them also went out, and all was darkness, There was no bower,
no chamber, no bridal bed, but a cold winter soil; and I thought that,
through the gloom, I perceived the couple still lying on it.

As I could get no rest all that night for thinking of the terrible
scene I had witnessed, as soon as the sun rose next morning I went out
to the bowling-green, but found nothing there save the strangled body
of the wretched woman,--a dismal and humbling sight,--squeezed almost
to a jelly, and every bone broken as if it had been smashed on an
anvil. Being curious to examine her robes in which she appeared with
such splendour the evening before, and her jewels, part of which I had
seen her lay carefully aside, I took every thing up as it lay. Her
robes were a small heap of the most wretched rags imaginable: her
pearl necklace was a string of dead beetles, and her diamond rings
pieces of thread, on which were fastened small knots of clay, and
every thing else proportionally mean. While I was standing considering
this vile degradation that had taken place, I heard a voice at a
little distance that called to me and said, "Gibbie Jordan! Gibbie
Jordan! why standest thou in amazement at a true emblem of all worldly
grandeur! It is all equally unreal and unsubstantial as that on which
thou lookest, and to that it must all come at last."

'Hout, friend,' thought I, 'it canna surely be a' sae perfectly unreal
as this, else what does it signify?' But a' that I could look and
glime about, I could never discover the speaker that said this; and
when I thought seriously of the matter, I found that it comes a' to
the same thing in the end.

"Honest friend, thou hast again illustrated a momentous moral truth,"
said the abbot,--"and I thank thee for it. Thou hast the art, in thy
simplicity, of extracting more good out of real evil than any expounder
of divine truths throughout the land. Thou art both a moral and a
natural philosopher, and I intend conferring on thee some benefice under
the church, that thy talents may no longer remain locked up in a helmet.
Prithee, go on with thy extraordinary narrative; but these witch
weddings are too horrible for mortal ears."

Then you may consider, my Lord Abbot, what they were for mortal eyes,
especially such a run of them, which were every night varied in their
horrors, and terminated in something perfectly distinct from all those
preceding. On the second night the bridegroom was a foreign merchant, a
man of bustle and punctuality, who said he could not remain late with
his kind convivial friends, and was under the necessity of carrying his
bride off at an early hour, having business of importance to transact
on the morrow. It was a speculation, he said, on which he calculated
making a good profit, and a man who was coming in to have a wife, and in
all probability a small family to maintain, required to look after and
attend to these matters. The witch caressed him in ecstacy when he made
this speech, and proffered to go with him as soon as he chose. She
saluted her cronies, and bade them farewell; and although there is no
love among those sort of people, yet there was still so much of human
nature remaining, that there seemed to subsist a degree of regret that
they should never meet again. My own heart was even sore for the
wretched beldame; for I had witnessed a scene the preceding night which
had been withheld from her view, and those of the other brides that were
to be; and I knew that a fate somewhat similar awaited them all. They
mounted this one behind the spruce merchant on a tall gallant charger
whose eyes gleamed like lightning, and away they set over the leas of
Carterhaugh, at a light gallop; but at every bound the swiftness of the
steed increased, till it was quickly beyond the speed of the eagle. The
witch held like grim death, and would fain have expostulated with the
bridegroom on the madness of risking their necks for a little per
centage,--but her velocity was such that she could make no farther
speech of it, than just a squeak now and then like a shot hare. The
reckless merchant flew on, still increasing his rapidity, until he came
to the very highest rock of the Harehead linn. The witch knew of the
dreadful chasm that was before them, and weening that her husband did
not know she uttered a piercing shriek; but the void was only thirty
yards across and a hundred deep, so the fearless merchant, meaning to
take it at one leap, made his charger bound from the top of the
precipice. The infernal courser cleared the linn, but the witch's head
failing, she toppled off about the middle space. There were two
fishermen spearing salmon in the bottom of the gulf, who saw the
phenomenon pass over their heads, and the wife lose her hold and fall
off; they heard her likewise saying, as she came adown the air, "Aih,
what a fa' I will get!" And as she said, so it fell out; for she
alighted on the rocks a short space from the place where they stood, and
was literally dashed in pieces; but the steed ran away with the merchant
over hill and dale like a thunderbolt, and neither the one nor the other
ever looked over his shoulder to see what had befallen the bride.

This continuation of horrors still depriving me of rest, I went into
the linn the next morning to look after the corpse; but the three
pages, Prig, Prim, and Pricker, were engaged with it, cutting it
trimly up, and hanging it on the trees of the linn to be frozen, so
that they might thereby be enabled to preserve it for some grand
experiment. In the same manner did they serve the remains of all the
brides; none of them ever being buried,--but there was one taken away
bodily. I shall now, in conformity with your reverence's hint, desist
from the description of any more of these weddings, and proceed to the
adventure by which I attained my liberty.

I had often attempted this, both by night and by day, but these imps
seemed to possess a sort of prescience, for in all my attempts I was
seized and maltreated so grossly that I gave up all hopes of escape,
otherwise than by some upbreaking of the warlock's establishment, and
of all such incidents I had resolved to avail myself, and you all see
that at last I have succeeded,--which happened on this wise.

Still as Christmas tide drew on, the wranglings between my two chief
masters, the devil and the warlock, grew more and more fierce; and as
I heard they were obliged to sever before that time, I both hoped and
dreaded some terrible convulsion. The fiend, for several successive
days, was always hinting to the Master that it now behoved the latter
to deliver him up the black book and the divining rod; and he tried to
cajole him out of them by fair speeches and boundless promises: but
with these requests the Master testified no disposition to comply, and
the promises he utterly disregarded, bidding him bestow his promises
on those who did not know him. At length the fiend fairly told him,
that he must and would have the possession of these invaluable
treasures, which ought never to have been put into the hands of mortal
man, and that now he would have them if he should tear his heart from
his bosom to attain the boon.

I weened that matters were come to that pass now that the Master would
be obliged to yield, and that all this show of resistance was only the
ebullition of a proud and indignant spirit struggling against the yoke
under which it knew it was obliged to bow, like a horse that champs
the bit, to the sway of which it knows too well it must submit. In all
this, however, I had reckoned before mine host, and knew not the
resources of the great magician. Beneath the influence of the cross I
found him a child, a novice, a nonentity, unresolved and inconsistent in
his actions. But amongst the beings with whom he associated I found him
a superior intelligence, a spirit formed to controul the mightiest
energies, and not brooking submission to any power unless by compulsion.
To my utter astonishment he not only gave the arch-fiend absolute
refusal, but haughty defiance; and then it was apparent, that, except
from necessity, all forbearance was at an end.

"Preposterous madman! dost thou know whom thou beardest?" said the
fiend, gnashing his teeth with rage and thirst of vengeance: "Knowest
thou with whom thou art contending, thou maniac?--and that I can wring
thy soul out of thy body, consigning the one to the dunghill, and the
other to elemental slavery, at my will and pleasure?"

"I defy thee," said the Master: "Do thy worst. He that imparts a
moiety of his power to another, must abide by the consequences. Do I
not know with whom I am contending? Yes! I know thee! And thou art so
well aware that I do, that at this moment thou tremblest beneath my
rod. I know thee for a liar, a deceiver, a backbiter, and a spirit of
insatiable malevolence. Who can lay one of these charges to my name?
Were I immortal as thou art, how I would hurl thee from thy usurped
and tyrannic sway over the mighty energies of nature. Were I freed of
the incumbrances of mortality,--of blood that may be let out by a
bodkin,--bones that may be broken by the tip of an ox-goad,--and
breath that may be stopped by the twang of a bow-string; of vitals,
subjected to be torn by disease,--preyed on by hunger, thirst, and a
thousand casualties beside:--yes, were I rid of these congregated
impediments, as I shall soon be, I would thrust thee down into that
subordinate sphere of action to which only thy perverse nature is
fitted. This black book and this divining-rod are mine. They were
consigned to my hands by thyself and the four viceroys of the
elements, and part with them shall I never, either in life or in
death; and while I possess them I am thy superior. Begone, and let me
hear no more of thy brawling at this time, lest I humble thee, and
trample on thee before thy day of power be expired."

This the Master pronounced in loud and furious accents; and as he
finished he struck the devil across the gorge with his golden rod.
The blow made him spring aloof, and tumble into the air, it had such
powerful effect on his frame; and when he stood again on his feet, he
roared with rage and indignation, in a voice that resembled thunder.
The Master had the black book belted to his bosom, with bands of
steel, that were hammered in the forge of hell; and laying his left
hand upon that, and brandishing his divining-rod in his right, he
dared the fiend to the combat. The latter approached, and poured from
his mouth and nostrils such a stream of liquid flame on the magician,
that it appeared like a fiery rainbow between them. This greatly
incommoded the Master, and made him skip like a mountebank; but it was
soon exhausted, and then the fiend threw trees and rocks at him, some
of the latter of the weight of five tons. All these the Master
eschewed; and though he sought no other weapons but his rod, he brake
in upon his antagonist, and chaced him from the field. Then the war of
words again commenced, which increased to a tempest of threatening,
wrath, and defiance. The arch-demon boasted of his legions, and of
their irresistible power; and threatened to bring them all to the
contest, and annihilate the Master and his adherents, root and branch.

"I have already said that I fear neither them nor thee," said the
Master. "What though thou hast the sovereignty over the element of
fire, and all the fierce and indurated spirits that sojourn and ply in
the sultry regions of flame, as also of the grovelling spirits of the
mould? Have not I at my command those of the air and the water? I can
muster against thee the storm, the whirlwind, and the raging tempest,
the overwhelming wave, and the descending torrent. These shall
extinguish thy meteor hosts, and sweep thy mold-warps from the face of
the earth. I am in the midst of my elements here. Thou art out of
thine, and that thou shalt feel when thou bringest it to trial."

Thus parted these two once-bound associates, but now jealous and
inexorable foes,--a good lesson to all those who form combinations
inimical to the laws or authority of the land in which they reside.
Like those master-spirits, such are likewise conspirators against
rightful sovereignty, although on a smaller scale; and like those whom
they imitate, and by whom they are moved, their counsels will always
be turned either to foolishness or against themselves.

"The sphere that this man hath filled in society," said the abbot, "is
far below that in which he ought to have moved. If his narrative is
true, which I can hardly believe, he turns it to most excellent uses;
and if it is an apologue, it is one well conceived for the purposes of
instruction. Verily, this gentleman hath never moved in his proper
sphere."

"I think it is not very unlikely that your reverence says," said Sir
Ringan, "for he made no great figure in it. Tho' I had always a
partiality for him, I had no great faith in his valour. He would
rather have cut down a warrior behind his back than before his face
any time. He has made mare quake this night wi' his tale than ever he
did wi' his weapon. I entreat ye to get on, laird, and let us hear
how they made up matters."

Made up matters, does my chief say? That was a term no more mentioned
between them. They separated but to raise their different forces, and
meet again with more fury and effect. The Master spoke to his three
pages, and asked if they were resolved to stand firm to his interest?
They answered, that they would, till the term of their bondage
expired.

"Then am I doubly armed!" said the Master, exultingly; "and I will
show your tyrant that I can quell his utmost rage. Speed thee, my
trusty and nimble spirits; speed to the western and northern spheres,
and rouse the slumbering angels of the winds and the waters. Tell them
to muster their array, and bear hitherward,--to rear the broad billows
of the Atlantic up against the breast of heaven, and to make a bellows
of every cloud to gather the winds up behind them. Then bring down the
irresistible spirits of the frozen north in ambush,--and who shall
stand against their fury! How soon will you execute your commissions?"

"Master, I'll ring the surface of the ocean, from the line to the
first field of pickled ice, before the hour-glass is half run."

"Master, I'll look south on the polar star,--call every whale,
sea-monster, and ice-shagged spirit by his name, and return to you
before the cock-bittern can boomb his vesper."

    "And I'll to the moon,
    And the stars aboon,
    And rack my invention
    For the coming contention:
    And the wind and the weet,
    And the snow and the sleet,
    I'll gather and gather,
    And drive them on hither."

With that the three imps departed on their several missions, but not
before they had seized me, and bound me to a ring on a turret of the
castle. The Master retired into his apartment for some time, but soon
came up to the level space on the top of the castle, our old birth,
and strode about in the most violent agitation, but appearing rather
to be moved by anger and impatience than by dread. At length, he came
up to me, and said, "How now, droich? What thinkest thou of all this?"

I said nothing, for I durst not answer a word.

"Dost thou think," continued he, "that there exists another being,
either mortal or immortal, like me, thy master?"

I still durst not answer a word; for if I had said _no_, it would have
been blasphemy; and if I had said _yes_, it would have provoked him to
do me a mischief; so I looked at my bonds, and held my peace.

"Thou darest not say there is," continued he; "but I know what thou
thinkest. Sit thou there in peace till this great trial of power be
over; and if thou darest for thy life invoke another name than mine,
thou shalt never stir from that spot dead or alive. But if thou takest
heed to this injunction, and cease from all petitions to, or mention
of, a name which thou mayest judge superior to mine, then shalt thou
be set at liberty to join thy friends."

I determined to attend to this,--but he waited not for my answer, but
strode away, looking now and then on the book of destiny, and at the
western heaven alternately. At length he exclaimed, "Yonder they come!
Yonder they rise in grand battalia! Noble and potent spirits! How
speedily have you executed your commission. Yonder comes the muster of
my array, and who shall stand against them!"

I looked towards the west when I heard him talking in such ecstacies,
but could see nothing save a phalanx of towering clouds, rolling up in
wreaths from the dun horizon. I had seen the same scene a hundred
times, and could hardly help smiling at his enthusiasm, especially
when he went over a long muster-roll of the names of spirits and
monsters whom he saw approaching in the cloud. 'It is a sign that
warlocks have clear een,' thinks I, quietly, 'for I see nothing but a
range of rolling and restless clouds.' However, he was so overjoyed
with the sight of this visionary array, that, having no other to
communicate with, he came rapidly up to me, and said, "Tell me,
droich, didst thou ever witness any thing so truly grand as the
approach of this host of mine?"

"You must first lend me the use of your eyes that I may see them,"
said I; "for, on my word, I see nothing save two or three files of
castled clouds, which I have seen an hundred times."

With that he lent me a blow with his rod, and said, though not
apparently in wrath, "Thou hast no brighter eyes, and no brighter
conceptions, than a hedgehog, but art a mere clod of the valley, a
worm; if I knew of aught lower to liken thee to, I would do it! Dost
thou see nothing like fleets and armies approaching yonder? Dost thou
not see an hundred and seven of the ships of the ocean above, coming
full sail, with colours flying, and canvas spread? Seest thou not
also, to the south of these, two files of behemoths, with ten thousand
warrior-spirits beside?"

I looked again, and though I was sensible it must be a delusion
brought on by by the stroke of his powerful rod, yet I did see the
appearance of a glorious fleet of ships coming bounding along the
surface of the firmament of air, while every mainsail was bosomed out
like the side of a Highland mountain. I saw, besides, whole columns of
what I supposed to be crocodiles, sharks, kelpies, and water-horses,
with a thousand monsters never dreamed of by human being. The Master
marked my astonishment, and exulted still the more; and then he
desired me to turn round, and look toward the north. At first I could
see nothing; but on being touched again with the divining-rod, I shall
never forget such a sight as opened gradually to my view. The whole
northern hemisphere, from the eastern to the western horizon, was
covered with marshalled hosts of the shades of gigantic warriors. They
were all mailed in white armour, as if it had been sprinkled with
hoar-frost; and their beards, which had the appearance of icicles,
hung down, swinging in the wind, like so many inverted forests,
stripped of their foliage and bark, and encrusted with ice. They were
all mounted on the ghosts of crackens, whales, and walruses: and for
bows and quivers each had a blown bladder on his bade as large as the
hill of Ben-Nevis. My heart quaked at the view of these tremendous
polar spirits, and I said, "Great and magnificent Master, are yon
terrible chaps all coming hither?"

"Certes they are," said he: "Why dost thou ask after having heard my
mandate sent forth?"

"Because," said I, "If yon bearded spirits be a' coming here, I wish I
were somewhere else, for the like of yon was never beheld by man. If
your opponents dare face you, they have a spirit beyond what I can
conceive."

"They will be here, and that instantly," said he, "And lo! yonder they
come! I will go down and meet them on the open field. But, in the
meantime, I will loose you with my own hands, for who knows what may
be the issue of this day; remain where thou art, for here thou shalt
be safe, but no where else."

I looked; and as far as my eyes could discern, I saw as it were a
thousand thousand sparks of fire rising from the east, that came in a
straight line toward me, and with great velocity. As they came nearer
I perceived that they were all fiery serpents, with faces like men,
and small flaming spears issuing from their mouths, which they held
between their teeth, or drew in as they listed. These were led on to
the combat by the arch-fiend himself who came at their head in the
form of a huge fiery dragon with his iron crown on his head, and wings
springing from his shoulders behind, that reached as high as the hill
of Blackandro. 'Aih! God guide us!' thinks I to mysel, 'Michael has an
awsome adversary to contend with the day!' He was nothing daunted,
however, but went boldly down the valley, where he was met by hosts of
crawling monsters, such as snakes, lizards, and a thousand others.
These I took to be the spirits of the element of earth,--but they were
lubbards in a field of battle, for, at a brandish of the Master's
magical rod, they ran off wagging their tails in such a vengeance of
a hurry that they overturned one another.

The van of Michael's western array had by this time gained the middle
sky, and hung boiling and wheeling like a troubled ocean straight
above his head and above mine. Its colour was as dark as pitch, but
there was now and then a shade of a dead white colour rolled out, and
as suddenly again swallowed up in the darkness. I never saw ought so
awfully sublime. It had now descended so low, that it hid the polar
giants entirely from my view, and the Master kept waving his rod
towards it, and clapping his left hand always on the black book, till
at length, with the motion of a whirlpool, the cloud came and settled
all round him. The fiend and his firebrands perceiving this, darted
with the utmost fury into the middle of it, and the most tremendous
crash of thunder ensued that ever shook heaven and earth. My eyes were
dazzled so that I could not see ought distinctly, but I perceived
these flaming meteors glancing and quivering round the verges of the
darkness, and ever and anon darting again into it. Seven of these
peals of thunder succeeded one another, and then I saw the spirits of
flame would overcome, for the darkness began to scatter, and I saw
the Master hard bested, defending himself with his rod against a
multitude. He then cried with a loud voice, and waved his rod toward
the north, and that moment the giant warriors of the polar regions
loosed all their quivers at once, and with such effect, that they
tossed the opposing legions before them like chaff. The hailstones,
the snow, and the sleet, poured upon them thicker and faster, and the
wind roared louder than their thunders had done before. There was no
more power in their foes to stand before them; they were scattered,
driven away, and extinguished. When the Master saw this, he shouted
aloud for joy, calling out 'Victory!' and leaping from the ground in
ecstacy. But when he was in the very paroxysm of exultation, the great
dragon came round with a circular motion behind the castle, and
approaching behind the wizard's back before he was aware, seized him
by the hair with one paw, and by the iron belt with the other, and
bore him off into the air straight upward. The Master struggled and
writhed very hard, but never opened his lips. At length, after great
exertion, he struck the monster a blow with his rod that made him quit
his hold, and fly away yelling after his discomfited legions.

The Master fell to the ground from a great height, and lay still, and
when I saw no one to come near him, I left the corner where I had hid
myself, and ran to his assistance; but he was quite dead. His teeth
had severed his tongue in two, and were clenched close together; his
eyes were open, and every bone of his body was broken. Having
witnessed the unspeakable value of the golden rod, I put out my hand
and took hold of it, wanting to bring it away with me, but I might as
well have tried to have heaved the castle from its foundations.
Besides, when I tugged at it, the dead man turned his eyes toward me
with a fierceness that chilled me to the heart, so I fled and came
hitherward with all my might. He is lying in a little hidden valley,
at the side of the burn, immediately above the castle, with the book
of fate locked in his bosom, his rod in his hand, and his eyes open. I
have now described to your Majesties this scene exactly as I saw it;
but I must also tell you, that when I came to the mill, both the
miller and his man, neither of whom knew me, said it had been an awful
storm of thunder and lightning. I asked if they perceived nothing
about it but a common storm of thunder and lightning? And they said,
nothing, save that it was exceedingly violent, and rather uncommon at
such a season of the year. I have, therefore, some suspicions that
there might be magical delusion operating on my sight; but of this I
am certain, that the great enchanter was carried up into the middle
space between heaven and earth, fell down, and was killed."

"I think there can be no doubt," said the King, "that what you have
told us is the plain and unvarnished truth, though, perhaps, the rod
of divination might open your eyes to see the storm in a different
light from that seen by the eyes of common men. Of this there can be
no doubt, that the greatest man, and the most profound scholar of the
age, has perished in this conflict of the elements. He has not only
kept the world in awe, but in dreadful agitation for the space of
thirty years; let us, therefore, all go to-morrow and see him
honourably interred. I ask no rites of sepulture to be performed over
his remains, which, if living, he would have deprecated, only let us
all go and see his body reverendly deposited in the tomb, lest it be
left to consume in the open fields."

They went, and found him lying as stated, only that his eyes were
shut, some of his attendant elves having closed them over night. His
book was in his bosom, and his rod in his hand, from either of which
no force of man could sever them, although when they lifted the body
and these together, there was no difference in weight from the body of
another man. The King then caused these dangerous relics to be
deposited along with the body in an iron chest, which they buried in a
vaulted aisle of the abbey of Melrose; and the castle of Aikwood has
never more been inhabited by mortal man.


THE END.


       *       *       *       *       *


Transcriber's Notes

This text is a reproduction of the 1822 edition. It includes many
dialect and archaic words and spellings, as well as many typographical
errors which have not been changed.

Some characters were not printed clearly:

p. 79 The letter "i" in "you would deify" was not printed and is
conjectural

p. 131 the line ending "The wines and liquor" does not meet the margin;
"liquor" may be plural.

p. 151 the line ending "of beings so blind" does not meet the margin,
and may end in a comma

p. 274 the colon in "by the Douglas:" is unclear and may be a semi-colon

p. 307 the semi-colon in "the attempt prematurely;" is unclear and may
be a comma


Chapters are inconsistently headed "CHAPTER" or "CHAP."

The text includes the following inconsistent spellings:

Father Lawrence and father Lawrence

galloped and gallopped

Castle-Wearie and Castle-Weary

Corby and Corbie

chace and chase


The text includes many examples of inconsistent hyphenation. The
following are inconsistently hyphenated or printed as two words:

yester eve and yester-eve

all four and all-four

arch fiend and arch-fiend

back friends and back-friends

bowling green and bowling-green

coulter nose and coulter-nose

deep wooded and deep-wooded

divining rod and divining-rod

high born and high-born

high spirited and high-spirited

hoar frost and hoar-frost

iron door and iron-door


The following are inconsistently hyphenated or printed as one word:

daylight and day-light

Castlewearie and Castle-Wearie

drawbridge and draw-bridge

auldfarrant and auld-farrant

bareheaded and bare-headed

eyebrows and eye-brows

outdone and out-done

staircase and stair-case


The following are inconsistently printed as one or two words:

fairy land and fairyland

Gude faith and Gudefaith

mean time and meantime


The text contains the following apparent errors:

p. 10 missing apostrophe ("its only the devil")

p. 17 missing quotation mark ("What do you think")

p. 25 missing quotation mark ("is the better. The imps")

p. 30 extra quotation mark ("behind the friar."")

p. 46 missing quotation mark ("preserve their worshippers.")

p. 47 missing quotation mark ("and who must yield.")

p. 60 missing quotation mark ("all unsafe with such.")

p. 62 question mark instead of full stop ("off thy frame?")

p. 68 missing quotation mark ("those we love.")

p. 79 two instances of missing quotation marks (""Stay, they cried, stay
          the solemnity,")

p. 89 missing quotation mark ("your's was the best tale.")

p. 98 mis-spelling "in the expecsation"

p. 102 extra space in "the sweetest strain s"

p. 112 missing quotation mark ("follow them.")

p. 158 extra quotation mark ("ever cattle put on."")

p. 163 mis-placed apostrophe ("that I ken o.'")

p. 163 missing quotation mark ("and that of such momentous")

p. 168 missing full stop ("them to think of")

p. 183 extra quotation mark ("Scott'" said Yardbire:")

p. 189 mis-spelling "possessession"

p. 196 duplicate word "themsels; and and if ye hear a Laidlaw"

p. 205 missing quotation mark ("Strangers, I think!")

p. 206 comma instead of full stop ("he says, We'll never make")

p. 207 missing quotation mark ("But whoever refuses,")

p. 213 mis-spelling "disingeniousness"

p. 222 duplicate word "the fourth was a a boy"

p. 225 missing space "andbegan"

p. 237 extra quotation mark (""Alas, for my beloved")

p. 284 single instead of double quotation mark ("the like o' that?'")

p. 299 missing quotation mark ("begging admission to your")

p. 321 extra quotation mark (""The Queen crossed herself,")

p. 331 extra quotation mark ("'it's 'God's will?'")

p. 346 extra quotation mark ("new born beauties."")

p. 349 full stop instead of comma ("from a beam's end.")

p. 378 mis-spelling "convalesence"

p. 379 missing quotation mark ("apply to him again.")

p. 380 duplicate word "shew a a"

p. 380 missing quotation mark ("Inferiority!")

p. 382 missing full stop ("the lord Douglas--But")

p. 389 missing quotation mark ("Oh Sir Charles!--")

p. 391 missing quotation mark ("or an engagement say?")

p. 393 duplicate word "to Sir Charles was was nothing"

p. 405 duplicate word "she could not not be"

p. 409 "They" instead of "The" ("They rest marshalling")

p. 410 mis-spelling "Peatstackknowe"

p. 411 missing space ("Gibbie,and")

p. 422 missing space ("a delusion, avision")

p. 423 comma instead of full stop ("all was darkness, There was no")

p. 440 duplicate word "brought on by by the stroke"

p. 447 extra quotation mark ("was killed."")





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