the guidman and guidwife of Cairnkibbie, themselves, rose and "buckled
to the wark," as cleverly as the youngest gipsy of the whole assembly.
Then up blew the "Hunts o' Cheviot," in the quickest of Tam's
ale-inspired manner, and away banged the jolly gaberlunzie, as if the
spirit of Cybele's priests had seized his heart; "and like a lyon lap,"
as if he would have foreleeted Lightfute himself, and "counterfeited
Frans." He clapped his hands, till the echoes came back from the roof;
and the exhilarating hoogh! hoogh! which can only be given forth by the
throat of a Scotchman, when good liquor has wet it and fired the brain
that moves it, was heard by every ear, and felt by every heart. The very
piper was delighted with the ranting chield, and ever, as his clap and
hoogh! hoogh! resounded through the barn, the yells of the pipes seemed
to rise higher and higher, and echoes of the same sounds came from the
imitative spirits of the dancers.
"Hurra for the gaberlunzie!" shouted Will Aitken.
"The jolly beggar, for ever!" cried Steenie Thornton; and the smiles of
the hizzies, and occasional slaps on the back, administered to the
jolly roisterer, as they met and passed him in the midst of the reel,
testified their most perfect satisfaction with the king of his tribe.
"Here, Will, here man," whispered the beggar, as he rioted in his wild
humour, and twirled Will Carr about to face Lilly, while he left her for
Bess Gordon. "Set to her, man, and dinna spare a kiss and a good squeeze
o' her hand, as ye see the auld anes' backs to ye."
And then he drowned his remark with his hoogh! hoogh! sprung up yard
high, and clapped his knees opposite the blooming Bess, who would not
have given her jolly new partner for a' the Will Carrs in Scotland.
"Change the measure, Tam," cried the beggar, as he foresaw the
termination of "The Hunts of Cheviot." "Up wi' 'King William's Note,'
man. Fill his coig, ye lazy loons! Noo, Tam!--hoogh! hoogh!--there up
yet, higher and higher, man--hoogh, hoogh!"
The piper felt the inspiration, up mounted the notes to the highest and
liveliest measure, and away again flew the merry dancers under all the
impulse of the new tune. The clap on the beggar's knee ever and anon run
along, and still he twirled round Will Carr to face Lilly--though not
before he had taken her round the fair neck, and kissed her, "nothing
loath"--and again presented himself to the welcome face of Bess, whose
rosy lips he "prec'd" as often as his many laborious evolutions, hooghs,
claps, and cries to the piper would permit. He even made _tacks_ to the
side reels, and, laying hold of the damsels of his neighbours, kissed
them from lug to lug, and then came back with a roar of laughter behind
him, to greet of new Bess Gordon, to whom he seemed more welcome for his
gallantry. The guidwife of Cairnkibbie herself was violently laid hold
of round the neck and saluted with a loud smack, which, sounding in the
ears of the guidman, produced a hearty laugh at the boldness, which was
excused by the reckless jollity of the extraordinary gaberlunzie. Nor
did he yet allow them to flag.
"Keep at it, Will!" he cried to the young man. "Ye'll hae aneuch o'
Lilly for ae nicht, or my name's no Wat Wilson. Aneuch o' 'King
William's Note,' Tam. Come awa wi' anither--'In Simmer I mawed my
meadow,' wi' double quick time. Look to his bicker there, ye culroun
knaves, wha'll neither dance, drink, nor mak drink!"
The piper heard the appeal, and struck up the new tune with great glee--
"Gude Lord, how he did lans!
And again the inspiring strain, coming in a new measure, filled the
dancers with new energies. There never had been such a reel since ever
reels were danced. Heaven knows how long it had lasted, and yet the
performers felt no weariness, all through the inspiring devilry, as they
termed it, of the gaberlunzie, whose war-cry was as loud and uproarious
as ever, and his leaps in the air as high as they had been at the first
off-go. He now played off a new trick. He twirled round the partner of
the next reel, and made him take his place before Bess Gordon, while he,
ambitious of a new face, took the place of his neighbour, and continued
the sport in his new locality and company. Bess regretted her change;
but his new position was soon changed, for he played the same trick with
the next reeling party, and so on through the whole four--for such was
the number up at once; and he continued to "prec the mou's" of every
young maiden on the floor, and, returning with many a hoogh, and clap,
and leap to his old position, he seemed inclined to keep up the sport
till the elder dancers should drop to the ground with sheer fatigue. It
seemed to the guidman of Cairnkibbie that there was no remedy but a nod
to Piper Tam, who, himself almost blown out, observed with pleasure the
master's indication, and stopped the music even in the very midst of the
leaping joy of the interminable gaberlunzie, who would have danced
apparently till next moon, if he could have got any one strong enough
and willing enough to dance with him.
He was now a universal favourite; all flocked round him as he wiped the
perspiration from his forehead, and declared they had never seen such a
spirited dancer before. His name, Wat Wilson, flew through the barn, and
every one wondered how they had never seen such a jolly beggar in those
parts before. But Wat said nothing of his _unde_, his _ubi_, or his
_quo_; he only drank to the crowd around him; and, with Lilly on one
side of him, and Will Carr on the other, he seized again his own pipes,
and, forcing Tam to his feet, and crying to a new party to start, struck
up one of the liveliest airs that the folks of the Merse had ever heard.
In an instant again the barn was resounding with mirth; his strains were
irresistible.
"Then all the wenches te he they playit,
And loud as Will Aitken leuche;
But nane cried, Gossip, hyn your gaits,
For we have dansit aneugh."
At least none cried they had danced enough while the beggar played; for
the very heels seemed to obey the influence of his spirit, as if they
had been gifted with some power of sympathy, independently of the bodies
to which they were attached. The dance was kept up till the dancers
tired--for the beggar's lungs were as tough as his feet; and when all
had, for a time, tired of dancing, they assembled round their guest,
who, of his own accord, struck up many a ranting song, and, by his
humour, made the laugh resound through the barn. So fond grew they of
his song and his jokes, that they felt no inclination, for a time, to
resume again the dance. They drank and laughed, and screamed at every
new sally of his wit, and every humorous turn of his song; and no one
knows how long this scene might have lasted--for the gaberlunzie seemed
inexhaustible--when a sound of horses' feet at the door claimed the
attention of the revellers, and some one cried out that a party of
horsemen were come to demand the body of a thief, who had that day, at
Dunse, stolen the silver mace of King James, and was suspected to be at
this Maiden, under the assumed dress of a wandering piper.
"That is the man," cried a belted knight, as, having dismounted, he trod
forward into the middle of the barn, and pointed to the happy
gaberlunzie, who had that instant finished his song.
"Ye lee," answered the beggar, in an instant, as he stood up, surrounded
by his friends.
"Ha, sirrah!" answered the stranger, "this boldness will avail thee
nothing. I know thee; and these, thy new-made friends, will not save
thee from the execution of our orders. There are witnesses against thee,
who saw thee steal the silver mace. Forward, ye sooth-saying men!"
Two men entered, dressed nearly in the same style as the first, and
bearing all the marks and insignia of the grade of Knights.
"Is not this the thief?" inquired the first.
"It is--we will swear to him. He snatched the mace from the royal
mace-bearer, in the streets of Dunse, and made off with it amidst the
hue and cry of the populace, whose speed he outran as he would that of
the greyhound."
"Guid faith," replied the guidman of Cairnkibbie, "if our friend ran as
cleverly as he has danced this nicht, a' the greyhounds o' the Merse
wadna hae catched him."
"Will ye gie me up to the beadles, freends," cried the beggar, "or will
ye stand by him wha has sought yer protection, and partaken o' yer
hospitality?"
"Gie ye up!" ejaculated the spirited old farmer; "in faith, na. If King
Jamie war the Cham o' Tartary, or had three kings' heads on his
shouthers in place o' ane, we'll defend ye while there's a flail in the
barn o' Cairnkibbie."
A shout of approbation followed the speech of the old farmer. The
maidens, whose chins still smarted from the rub of his jolly beard, flew
for flail, and rung, and "hissil ryss," and in an instant every willing
hand held a weapon.
"We'll defend him to the last drap o' oor bluid," cried Will Carr, as he
manfully stood forward, and brandished a huge hazel rung.
"And, by my saul," cried the scaumer, Jock Hedderick; "if we fecht as
he'll fecht, whether for auld feid or new, noytit pows and broken banes
will tell the fortune o' the nicht, lang before the play's played."
"Ha, ha! guidmen, and true guidmen, and true!" cried the beggar,
undaunted and laughing; "thank ye, my hinny, Lilly, for this green
kevel! By the haly rude, come on now, ye silver-necklaced bull-dogs o'
royalty:--
'The beggar was o' manly mak,
To meet him was nae mows,
There darena ten come him to tak,
Sae noyt will he their pows.'
Ye should ken that sang, if ye hae lear aneugh in your steel-bound
noddles. Come on, ye calroun caitiffs!"
"Search his wallet," cried the foremost of the strangers; and six or
seven men rushed into the barn, and made direct for the window-sole
pointed to by the chief; but Will Swan and Will Carr, with half a dozen
more stout hensures, flew forward and anticipated the searchers.
"Give me my meal-pocks," cried the gaberlunzie; and, having got hold of
his wallet, he slung it over his shoulders, and, to the surprise of
every one, took out the mace said to have been stolen, and, holding it
in his left hand as a badge of his authority, continued, laughing like a
cadger, to gibe the strangers--
"Beggars hae a king as weel as belted bannerets," he cried: "see ye my
badge? Ken ye wha ye seek? Heard ye ne'er o' Wat Wilson the king o' the
beggars, crowned on Hogmanay, on the Warlock's Hill near Dunse, in
presence o' a' the tribe o' kaukers and keelars, collected from Berwick
to Lerwick. This is the beggar's badge. Tak it if ye dare. By ae wag
o't, yer bairns will be kidnapped, your kye yeld, and your mithers'
banes stricken wi' the black sickness."
"Guidman of Cairnkibbie," said the foremost knight, "thou hast now
evidence in that bold beggar's own hand, that he hath stolen a part of
the king's regalia--an act of high treason, incurring death to him and
all that give him shelter. Take the badge, examine it, and thou'lt find
on it the royal arms. See to thy predicament. If I report a rescue,
thou'rt ruined. James will punish thee as a resetter. These misguided
men will fall in thy ruin, and sorely wilt thou repent having harboured
and defended a thief and a vagabond. Wilt thou give him up, or must we
take him at the expense of our blood and thine?"
"A' fair words," answered the guidman; "but this beggar is our guest. He
says the badge is his ain, and truly I am bound to say that King Jamie
himsel is nae mair like the king o' this auld land, than this jolly
gaberlunzie is like the king o' his tribe. Every inch o'm's a king. He
sings like a king, dances like a king, drinks like a king, and kisses
the lasses like a king--and, king as he is, feth we'll be his loyal
subjects. What say ye, guid hearts?"
"The same, the same," cried many voices; and a brandishing of flails and
kevels showed that they were determined to act up to their pledge of
defending the jolly gaberlunzie to the end. Matters now assumed a
serious aspect.
"Thy ruin be on thine own heads!" cried the chief of the strangers.
"Draw for the rights of King James, claim our prisoner, and take him
through the blood of rebels who dispute the authority of their king!"
The men from without now began to rush into the barn with drawn swords;
and seemed to expect that, when the steel was made apparent, no serious
resistance would be offered. Their expectation, however, was vain; for
the hinds did not seem to fear the naked swords, and several of them had
already aimed blows at the heads of the enemy. The beggar was moving to
the right and to the left with great rapidity; brandishing his huge
kevel, and whispering something into the ears of his friends. The
guidman was busy getting the women removed by a back door; and, in the
midst of all the uproar, there seemed some scheme in operation on the
part of the defenders, which would either co-operate with their warlike
defence, or render the shedding of blood unnecessary. The assailants
clearly did not wish to use the glittering thirsty blades; and continued
to ward off the blows of the hinds, and to push them back, with a view
to get hold of him who was the object of their search. He, in the
meantime, was directing some secret operation with great adroitness and
spirit. The confusion increased; the size of the barn, and the pressure
of the assailants forward, apparently with a view to take away the power
of the long sticks, prevented in a great measure the full play of the
hinds' arms, and some of the king's men were engaged in a powerful
wrestle, with the intention of disarming the hinds, and thus achieving a
victory without loss of blood; but their efforts in this respect would
have been attended with small success, if the tactics of the beggar had
been a deadly contest. The assailants still pushed on, and it seemed
that their opponents were fast receding, while the clanging of sticks on
the swords, and the hard breathing and cries of those engaged, seemed to
indicate a severe and equally contested strife. The defendants were
latterly pushed up to the very farthest end of the apartment, and it
seemed apparent that, if they did not make a great effort to redeem
their position, and acquire room for the circle of their staves, they
must resign the contest. But an extraordinary evolution was now
performed. The back door was opened; in an instant, every hind
disappeared from the faces of their foes; the door was locked and
bolted; and the king's men turned to retrace their steps and seek the
enemy outside. That turn exposed their position, and the trick of the
gaberlunzie. The front door was also shut, locked, and riveted. On every
side they were shut in, confined in a dark barn, and all means of escape
entirely cut off. It was in vain that they roared through the key-holes
of the doors. The gaberlunzie, who regulated all the motions of the
successful party, responded to them in words of cutting irony, and even
set agoing the swelling notes of his pipes, to celebrate his triumph by
a poean in the form of a pibroch.
"Ye may tell yer king," he cried, loud enough for them to hear--"that
is, when ye get out, if ye ever experience that blessed fortune--that he
is not the only king in these realms. And surely Scotland is wide enough
for twa. I hae my subjects, he has his; an' Wat Wilson's no the
potentate that wad ever interfere wi' Jamie Stuart, if Jamie Stuart will
let alane Wat Wilson. If I happen to pass Dunse on the morn, I shanna
fail to report favourably o' yer prowess; an', abune a', I shall tell
him o' the condition o' his belted knichts--how
'There was not ane o' them that day
Could do ane ither's bidden,
And there lie three and thretty knights
Thrunland in ane midden.'
Come now, my friends, we'll adjourn the feast to the ha', an' let the
knights tak their nicht's rest in the barn, after a' the toil o' their
desperate battle."
A loud shout responded to the spirited speech of the gaberlunzie; and
the feelings of the kidnapped and discomfited men-at-arms, on hearing
the triumph of the beggar, who had out-manoeuvred them, may be
conceived, but could not well be expressed by an ordinary goose-quill.
The guidman of Cairnkibbie took as hearty a laugh as the rest, at the
trick thus successfully played off upon the king's men, and his laugh
was nothing the less for the quantity of good ale he had drank before
the fray began, and without which potation, perhaps, he would not have
patronised an act which might bring him into trouble. There was one
thing that, even through the fumes of the ale, struck him as very
remarkable--the confined knights made scarcely any noise. There was no
blustering or swearing of vengeance, nor threat of the king's
displeasure, nor endeavours to break the doors. They submitted to their
durance like lambs in a sheepfold, and seemed to have lost their spirits
as well as courage, when they found themselves completely within the
power of their enemy. What could this mean? There was a mystery in it,
which the farmer, who was an arch old fox, could not explain; and when
he put a question to the gaberlunzie, the answer increased his
difficulty, for the beggar laughed, and attributed the quietness and
meekness of the foes to the terror of his prowess, and the awe which his
name inspired throughout a great part of Scotland.
"This is the most extraordinary deevil," said the farmer to himself,
"that it has been my fortune to meet. His dancing, roaring, rioting,
drinking, piping, singing, joking, fechting, seem a' on a par; an' nane
o' them are beat by his power o' winning the hearts o' young an' auld.
He has forced me to like him, will I or nill I; an' my dochter Lilly,
an' my guidwife Jean, are nae less fond o' him than I am. Here, noo, is
our Maiden broken up, my barn made a warhold, mysel a seneschal o' the
king's troops, my head in a loop, an' my fortunes hanging in the wind o'
the royal displeasure--a' brocht aboot by a wanderin beggar, wha forced
himsel into oor happy meeting at the very point o' the bauldest tongue
that ever hung in man's head; an' yet sae supple that it has won the
very hearts o' the men that strove to keep him oot, an' brocht me into
the hardest scrape I ever was in my life."
Cogitating in this prudential way, the guidman was fast coming to the
conclusion that he was in a position of great danger; and that it was
necessary that he should take the proper steps for freeing himself from
the consequences of his imprudence as soon as it was possible. He turned
round to look for the gaberlunzie, that he might commune with him on the
prudence of letting the king's men free. The greater number of the men
and women had gone into the house; and some of them stood at a distance,
their forms revealed by a glimpse of the moon, which, freed from a
cloud, began to illumine the holms of Cairnkibbie.
"Where is the beggar?" inquired the farmer at Will Carr.
"Where is the beggar?" cried Will Carr to his neighbour.
"Where is the gaberlunzie?" shouted several voices at once.
The gaberlunzie was gone. Steenie Thornton said he saw a person mount
one of the troopers' horses that stood at the door of the barn, and,
turning round the corner of the steading, gallop off at the top of his
speed. He thought it was one of the hinds, who was trying the mettle of
the king's horses, and would return instantly, after he had indulged
himself with a ride. Now it was apparent to all that it was the strange
gaberlunzie himself. He had crowned all his extraordinary actions of the
evening by stealing one of the horses of the king, or his knights, and,
with meal-pocks, wallet, pipes, and stolen mace, was "owre the Borders
and awa," and might never be seen or heard of again; while the farmer,
who now saw the extent of his danger, must stand the brunt of the king's
vengeance, and be tried for forcing the king's messengers in the
execution of their duty, for shutting them up in his barn, and stealing
(for he would be charged with it) one of the horses, the property of his
sovereign. The whole company now assembled around the farmer, whose
position was apparent to the bluntest hind that ever danced at a Maiden.
Some proposed to follow the beggar, and bring him back again; but he had
already exhibited such a power of locomotive energy and daring spirit in
the former adventures of the evening, that it seemed vain to attempt to
overtake him with the quickest steed that was at their command. The
difficulty was great, and, apparently, insuperable; and the whole scene
enacted by the gaberlunzie appeared like a dream. The farmer swore
against him mighty oaths, and directed against himself a part of the
objurgatory declamation. But how was he to get out of the scrape? If the
doors were opened, and the armed knights let loose, the whole company
might be slaughtered, in the fury of the enraged men-at-arms, who would
attribute to the farmer and his men their discomfiture, the loss of the
thief, their confinement, and the loss of the horse. To keep them
confined was, also a fearful resource; for they must be let out _some
time_, and every minute of their confinement would add fuel to the flame
of their resentment. Many opinions were given. Some were for getting
assistance to enable them to stand on the defensive, against the
expected attack, on the knights being let free. Some again were for
striking a bargain "wi' the fou hand," as the saying goes, and letting
the pursuers free, upon their word of a knight that they would not
molest them. This latter plan seemed the best; and a good addendum was
made by the greatest simpleton of the whole meeting--viz., that they
should include in this act of amnesty the loss of the horse. The farmer
proceeded to act upon this resolution.
"We are friendly inclined to ye," said he, in a tone of voice that might
reach the prisoners. "Your enemy was that accursed gaberlunzie, wha maun
be the very deevil himsel; for he it was wha blew us up against ye, and
made us, a parcel o' quiet men, fecht against the servants o' our lawfu
king. The cunning rogue's awa, and left us to bear the dirdum o' his
feint or folly; and, a' ungeared as we are for war, we wish, withoot
either dewyss or devilry, to ken the condition upon which ye will get
yer liberty."
A loud laugh from within was the reply to this speech. What next could
this mean? The farmer was confounded, the hinds stared, and every one
looked at another. Here were men who five minutes before were fighting
like fiends, who had been deceived and confined, struck and ill-used,
indulging in a good jolly laugh at the broaching of a question
concerning their liberty. The mystery was increased, the affair was more
extraordinary, the development more difficult and distant.
"Ay, ay," continued the farmer, "ye may laugh; but, maybe, the laugh may
be on the ither side when ye get oot. This may be an assumed guid
nature, to blind us. I'm as far ben as ye, though no in the barn. Come,
come. It is a serious affair. Will ye pledge the honour o' a knight,
that, if I draw the bolts, ye'll let alane for let alane?"
"Surely, surely," was the ready reply, and another laugh accompanied the
condition.
"Right merry prisoners, by my saul!" continued the farmer. "Will they
laugh at the loss o' their horse, I wonder?" (To his friends.)
"That's a' very weel," he continued, in a higher voice. "I hae witnesses
here to the pledge; but I'm sorry to inform ye that that deevil o' a
beggar, wha stole yer king's mace, is aff and awa, the Lord kens whaur,
wi' the best horse o' a' yer cavalcade. Will ye forgie this to the
boot?"
Another burst of laughter responded from the barn, mixed with cries of--
"Ay, ay; never mind the horse. Let him go with the mace. The king of the
beggars deserveth a steed."
"Weel, these are the maist pleasant faes I ever saw," said the farmer;
"but I hae a' my fears there's a decoy duck i' the pond. Haud firm yer
kevels, friends, in case a' this guid nature may, like the blink o' an
autumn sun, be followed by the fire-flaughts o' their revenge."