CHAPTER

I. The Castle of Bergen

II. Erick Rosenkrantz

III. The Strangers

IV. A Norse Supper

V. The Earl and Hob Discourse

VI. Anna

VII. Konrad

VIII. The Cock-of-the-Woods

IX. Lord Huntly's Letter

X. The Hermit of Bergen

XI. The Fleur-de-Lys

XII. The Isle of Westeray

XIII. Noltland

XIV. The Separation

XV. Doubt and Despair

XVI. Blantyre Priory

XVII. The Countess of Bothwell

XVIII. The Rescue

XIX. The Rejected and the Rival

XX. Konrad and the Countess

XXI. Disappointment

XXII. The Countess Jane

XXIII. The Pursuit

XXIV. Mary, Queen of Scots

*BOTHWELL;*

*OR,*

*THE DAYS OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.*

*CHAPTER I.*

*THE CASTLE Of BERGEN.*

The stern old shepherd of the air,

The spirit of the whistling hair,

The wind has risen drearily

In the northern evening sea,

And is piping long and loud

From many a heavy up-coming cloud.

_Leigh Hunt._

It was the autumn of a bleak day in the September of 1566.

Enveloped in murky clouds, through which, at times, its red rays shot

along the crested waves, the Norwegian sun was verging to the westward.

From the frozen Baltic a cold wind swept down the Skager Rack, and,

urged by the whole force of the Atlantic ocean, the sullen waves poured

their foam upon the rocky bluffs and fissured crags that overhang the

fiord of Christiana.

In those days, a vessel in the fiord proved an object of the greatest

interest to the inhabitants of the hamlet; and it was with growing fears

that the anxious housewives and weatherwise fishermen of Bergen, a

little wooden town situated on the bay of Christiana, watched the

exertions made by the crew of a small crayer or brigantine, of some

eighty tons or so, that under bare poles, or having at least only her

great square spritsail and jib set, endeavoured to weather the rocky

headland to the east, and gain their little harbour, within which the

water lay smooth as a millpond, forming by its placidity a strong

contrast to the boiling and heaving ocean without.

The last rays of the September sun had died away on the pine-clad hills

of Christiana and the cathedral spire of Bergen. Night came on sooner

than usual, and the sky was rendered opaque by sable clouds, through

which the red streaks of lightning shot red and forklike; while the

hollow thunder reverberated afar off among the splintered summits of the

Silverbergen.

Then through the flying vapour, where, parted by the levin brand, the

misty rain poured down in torrents on the pathless sea, and the

goodwives of Bergen told their beads, and muttered a _Hail Mary!_ or a

prayer to Saint Erick the Martyr for the souls of the poor mariners,

who, they were assured, would find their graves at the bottom of the

deep Skager Rack ere morning brightened on the waters of the Sound.

The royal castle of Bergen, a great square tower of vast strength and

unknown antiquity, reared on a point of rock, still overlooks the town

that in the year of our story was little more than a fisher hamlet.

Swung in an iron grating on its battlement, a huge beacon fire had been

lighted by order of the governor to direct the struggling ship; and now

the flames from the blazing mass of tarred fagots and well-oiled flax

streamed like a torn banner on the stormy wind, and lit up the

weatherbeaten visages of a few Danish soldiers who were grouped on the

keep, glinting on their steel caps and mail shirts, and on the little

brass minions and iron drakes that peeped between the timeworn

embrasures.

Another group, which since sunset had been watching the strange ship,

was crowded under the sheltering arch of the castle gate, watching for

the dispersion of the clouds or the rising of the moon to reveal her

whereabouts.

"Hans Knuber," said a young man who appeared at the wicket, and whose

half military attire showed that he was captain of the king's

crossbowmen at Bergen, "dost thou think she will weather the Devil's

Nose on the next tack?"

"I doubt it much, Captain Konrad," replied the fisherman, removing his

right hand from the pocket of his voluminous red breeches to the front

of his fur cap, "unless they steer with the keep of Bergen and the spire

of the bishop's church in a line; which I saw they did not do. Ugh!

yonder she looms! and what a sea she shipped! How heavily her fore and

after castles and all her top-hamper make her heel to leeward!"

"They who man her seem to have but small skill in pilot-craft," said

one.

"By Saint Olaus!" cried another, "unless some one boards and pilots her,

another quarter of an hour will see her run full plump on the reef; and

then God assoilzie both master and mariner!"

"Luff--luff--timoneer!" exclaimed the first seaman. "Now keep her full!

Would I had my hands on thy tiller!"

"Every moment the night groweth darker," said the young man whom they

called Konrad, and whom they treated with marked respect: "as the clouds

darken the lightning brightens. A foul shame it were to old Norway, to

have it said that so many of us--stout fellows all--stood idly and saw

yonder struggling ship lost for lack of a little pilot-craft: for as

thou sayest, Hans, if she runs so far again eastward on the next tack

she must strike on the sunken reefs."

"No boat could live in such a sea," muttered the fishermen as they drew

back, none appearing solicitous of the selection which they expected the

young man would make.

"The mists are coming down from the Arctic ocean--the west wind always

brings them," said Jans Thorson; "and we all know 'tis in these mists

that the spirits of the mountain and storm travel."

"Come hither, Hans Knuber," said the captain, whose plumed cap and rich

dress of scarlet velvet, trimmed with white fur, and braided with silver

like a hussar pelisse, were rapidly changing their hues under the

drenching rain that lashed the castle wall, and hissed through the

deep-mouthed archway. "Come hither, thou great seahorse! Dost mean to

tell me thou art afraid?"

"Sir captain, I fear neither the storm nor the spirit of the mist; but

Zernebok the lord of evil may be abroad to-night, and he and the Hermit

of the Rock may chance to remember how once in my cups, like an ass as I

was, I reviled and mocked them both."

"Bah!" retorted Konrad, whose superstition did not go so far as that of

the seaman; "Jans Thorson, I will give thee this silver chain to launch

and put forth to yonder ship. Come, man--away, for the honour of old

Norway!"

"Not for all the silver in yonder hills, sir captain, nor the copper in

the mines of Fahlun to boot, would I trust myself beyond the Devil's

Nose to-night," said the old fisherman bluntly. "I have just refused

Master Sueno, the chamberlain."

"Why, 'twas just in such a storm old Christian Alborg, and his stout

ship the Biornen, were blown away into the wide ocean," said another;

"and I marvel much, noble Konrad, that you would urge poor fellows like

us"----

"On a venture which I would not attempt myself!" exclaimed the young

man, whose dark blue eyes flashed at his own suggestion. "Now, Saint

Olaus forefend thou shouldst say so!"

"Nay, noble Konrad"----

"But thou dost think so?"

The fisherman was silent.

A flush crossed the handsome face of Konrad of Saltzberg. He looked

seaward a moment. The wind was roaring fearfully among the bare summits

of the cliffs that towered abruptly from the shore to the very

clouds--absolute mountains of rock rising peak above peak; and when the

blue lightning flashed among them, their granite tops were seen

stretching away in the distance, while the giant pines that flourished

in their clefts and gorges, were tossing like black ostrich feathers in

the storm.

At the harbour mouth the waves of snow-white foam were visible through

the gloom, as they lashed, and hissed, and burst in successive mountains

on the rocks of worn granite that fringed the entrance of the haven.

Konrad cast a rapid glance around him, and the appalling fury of the

northern storm made even his gallant heart waver for a moment in its

generous purpose; but a fair female face, that with all its waving

ringlets appeared at a little casement overlooking the portal, and a

kiss wafted to him from "a quick small hand," decided him. His eyes

sparkled, and turning briskly round to the fishermen, he said,--

"By my honour, Sirs, though knowing less of pilot-craft than of handling

the boll of an arblast, I will prove to you that I require nothing of

any man that I dare not myself attempt--so thus will I put forth

alone--and even if I perish shame you all."

And, throwing aside his sword and short mantle, the young man rushed

down the steep pathway that led to the little pier, and leaped on board

one of the long light whaleboats that lay there; but ere his ready hand

had quite cast off the rope that bound it to a ringbolt on the mole,

both Hans Knuber and Jans Thorson, fired by his example, sprang on

board, and with more of the action of elephants, in their wide fur boots

and mighty breeches, than the agility of seamen, they seized each an

oar, and pushed off.

In Denmark and Norway, there were and are few titles of honour; but

there has always existed in the latter an untitled nobility, like our

Scottish lairds and English squires, consisting of very old families,

who are more highly revered than those ennobled by Norway's Danish

rulers; and many of these can trace their blood back to those terrible

vikingr or ocean kings, who were so long the conquerors of the English

Saxons, and the scourge of the Scottish shores.

Konrad of the Saltzberg (for he had no other name than that which he

took from a solitary and half-ruined tower overlooking the fiord) was

the representative of one of those time-honoured races.

The fame his brave ancestors had won under the enchanted banner of

Regner Lodbrog, Erick with the bloody axe, and Sigwardis Ring, yet lived

in the songs and stories of the northern harpers; and Konrad was revered

for these old memories of Norway's ancient days, while his own bravery,

affability, and handsome exterior, gained him the love of the Norse

burghers of Bergen, the Danish bowmen he commanded, the fishermen of the

fiord, and the huntsmen of the woods of Aggerhuis.

By the glare of the beacon on the castle wall, his boat was briefly seen

amid the deepening gloom as it rose on the heaving swell, and the

broad-bladed oars of his lusty companions flashed as they were dipped in

the sparkling water. A moment, and a moment only, they were visible;

Konrad was seen to move his plumed cap, and his cheerful hallo was

heard; the next, they had vanished into obscurity.

The fishers gazed on the gloom with intensity, but could discover

nothing; and there was no other sound came on the bellowing wind, save

the roar of the resounding breakers as they broke on the impending

bluffs.

*CHAPTER II.*

*ERICK ROSENKRANTZ.*

Turn round, turn round, thou Scottish youth,

Or loud thy sire shall mourn;

For if thou touchest Norway's strand,

Thou never shalt return.

_Vedder._

The hall of the castle of Bergen was a spacious but rude apartment,

spanned by a stone arch, ribbed with massive groins, that sprung from

the ponderous walls.

Its floor was composed of oak planks, and two clumsy stone columns,

surmounted by grotesque capitals, supported the round archway of the

fireplace, above which was a rudely carved, and still more rudely

painted, shield, bearing the golden lion of ancient Norway in a field

gules. Piled within the arch lay a heap of roots and billets, blazing

and rumbling in the recesses of the great stone chimney. Eight tall

candles, each like a small flambeau, flared in an iron candelabrum, and

sputtered in the currents of air that swept through the hall.

Various weapons hung on the rough walls of red sandstone; there were

heavy Danish ghisannas or battle-axes of steel, iron mauls, ponderous

maces, and deadly morglays, two-handed swords of enormous length, iron

bucklers, chain hauberks, and leathern surcoats, all of uncouth fashion,

and fully two hundred years behind the arms then used by the more

southern nations of Europe.

The long table occupying the centre of the hall was of wood that had

grown in the forests of Memel; it was black as ebony with age, and the

clumsy chairs and stools that were ranged against the walls were all of

the same homely material. Several deerskins were spread before the

hearth, and thereon reposed a couple of shaggy wolf-hounds, that ever

and anon cocked their ears when a louder gust than usual shook the hall

windows, or when the rain swept the feathery soot down the wide chimney

to hiss in the sparkling fire.

Near the hearth stood a chair covered with gilded leather, and studded

with brass nails; and so different was its aspect from the rest of the

unornamented furniture, that there was no difficulty in recognising it

as the seat of state. A long sword, the silver hilt of which was

covered with a curious network of steel, hung by an embroidered baldrick

on one knob thereof, balanced by a little velvet cap adorned with a long

scarlet feather, on the other.

The proprietor of these articles, a stout old man, somewhere about

sixty-five, whose rotundity had been considerably increased by good

living, was standing in the arched recess of a well-grated window,

peering earnestly out upon the blackness of the night, in hope to

discern some trace of that strange vessel, concerning which all Bergen

was agog. His complexion was fair and florid, and though his head was

bald and polished, the long hair that hung from his temples and mingled

with his bushy beard and heavy mustaches, was, like them, of a decided

yellow; but his round visage was of the ruddiest and most weatherbeaten

brown. There was a bold and frank expression in his keen blue eye, that

with his air and aspect forcibly realized the idea of those Scandinavian

vikingr who were once the tyrants of Saxons, and the terror of the

Scots.

His flowing robe of scarlet cloth, trimmed with black fur and laced with

gold, his Norwayn anlace or dagger, sheathed in crimson leather sown

with pearls, and the large rowelled spurs that glittered on the heels of

his Muscovite leather boots, announced him one of Norway's untitled

noblesse. He was Erick Rosenkrantz of Welsoeoe, governor of the

province of Aggerhuis, castellan of Bergen, and knight of the Danish

orders of the Elephant and Dannebrog.

"Sueno Throndson," said he to a little old man who entered the hall,

muffled in a mantle of red deerskin, which was drenched with rain, "dost

thou think there is any chance of yonder strange bark weathering the

storm, and getting under the lee of our ramparts?"

"I know not, noble sir," replied Sueno, casting his drenched cloak on

the floor, and displaying his under attire, which (saith the Magister

Absalom Beyer, whose minute narrative we follow) consisted of a green

cloth gaberdine, trimmed with the fur of the black fox, and girt at the

waist by a broad belt, sustaining a black bugle-horn and short hunting

sword. "I have serious doubts; for the waves of the fiord are combating

with the currents from the Skager Rack, and whirling like a maelstrom.

I have been through the whole town of Bergen; but neither offer nor

bribe--no, not even the bishop's blessing, a hundred pieces of silver,

and thrice as many deer hides--will induce one of the knavish fishermen

or white-livered pilots to put forth a boat to pick up any of these

strangers, who must all drown the moment their ship strikes; and strike

she must, if the wind holds."

"The curse of Saint Olaus be on them!" grumbled the governor, glancing

at a rude image of Norway's tutelary saint.

"Amen!" added Sueno, as he wrung the wet tails of his gaberdine.

"Didst thou try threats, then?"

"By my soul, I did so; and with equal success."

"Dost thou gibe me, Throndson? This to me, the governor of Aggerhuis,

and captain of the king's castle of Bergen!" muttered the portly

official, walking to and fro, and swelling with importance as he spoke.

"The oldest of our fishermen are ready to swear on the blessed gospels

that there has not been seen such a storm since Christian Alborg, in the

Biornen, was blown from his moorings."

"Under the ramparts of this, the king's castle, by foul sorcery; and on

the vigil of Saint Erick the king, and martyr too! I remember it well,

Sueno. But what! is the old Norse spirit fallen so far, that these

villains have become so economical of their persons that they shrink

from a little salt water? and that none will launch a shallop in such to

save these poor strangers, who, unless they know the coast, will

assuredly run full tilt on the Devil's Nose at the haven mouth? By

Saint Olaus! I can see the white surf curling over its terrible ridge,

through the gloom, even at this moment."

"I said all this, noble sir," replied Sueno, brushing the rain from his

fur bonnet; "but none attended to me save young Konrad of the Saltzberg,

the captain of our Danish crossbowmen, who cursed them for white-livered

coistrils, and launching a boat, with Hans Knuber and Jans Thorson the

pilot, pushed off from the mole, like brave hearts as they are, in the

direction of the labouring ship, which Konrad vowed to pilot round the

Devil's Nose or perish."

"Fool! and thou only tellest me of this now! Konrad--the boldest youth

and the best in all old Norway!" exclaimed the burly governor. "Hah!

and hath the last of an ancient and gallant race to peril his life on

such a night as this, when these baseborn drawers of nets and fishers of

seals hang back?"

"His boat vanished into the gloom in a moment, and we heard but one

gallant blast from his bugle ring above the roar of the waves that boil

round that terrible promontory."

"The mother of God pray for him--brave lad! What the devil! Sueno, I

would not for all the ships on the northern seas, a hair of Konrad's

head were injured; for though he is no kin to me, I love the lad as if

he were mine own and only son. See that my niece Anna knoweth not of

this wild adventure till he returns safe. She has seemed somewhat cold

to him of late; some lover's pique"----

"I pray he _may_ return, Sir Erick."

"He must--he _shall_ return!" rejoined the impetuous old knight,

stamping his foot. "Yea, and in safety too, or I will sack Bergen, and

scourge every fisher in it. From whence thought these knaves the

stranger came?"

"From Denmark."

"Malediction on Denmark!" said Rosenkrantz, feeling his old Norse

prejudices rising in his breast. "Assure me that she is Danish, and I

will extinguish the beacon and let them all drown and be----!"

"Nay, nay, Sir Governor, they know her to be a good ship of Scotland,

commanded by a certain great lord of that country, who is on an embassy

to Frederick of Denmark, and hath been cruising in these seas."

"Then my double malediction on the Scots, too!" said the governor, as he

turned away from the hall window.

"And so say I, noble Sir," chimed in the obsequious chamberlain, as he

raised the skirts of his gaberdine, and warmed his voluminous trunk

hosen before the great fire.

"Right, Throndson! though eight of our monarchs are buried in Iona,

under the Ridge of the Kings, the death of Coelus of Norway, who is

graved in the Scottish Kyles, still lives in our songs; and the fatal

field of Largs, when aided by such a storm as this, the Scots laid

Haco's enchanted banner in the waves."

"And the wars of Erick with the bloody axe."

"And of Harold Graafeldt, his son."

"And Magnus with the Barefeet," continued the old man, whose eyes

gleamed at the names of these savage kings of early Scandinavia.

"Enough, Sueno," said the governor, who was again peering from the

window into the darkness; "enough, or thou wilt fire my old Norse heart

in such wise by these fierce memories, that no remnant of Christian

feeling will remain in it. After all, it matters not, Scots or Danes,

we ought to pray for the souls that are now perhaps, from yonder dark

abyss, ascending to the throne of God unblessed and unconfessed," added

the old knight, with a sudden burst of religious feeling.

"God assoil them!" added Sueno crossing himself, and becoming pious too.

From the windows of the hall little else was seen but the dark masses of

cloud that flew hither and thither on the stormy wind; at times a red

star shot a tremulous ray through the openings, and was again hidden.

Far down, beneath the castle windows, boiled the fierce ocean, and its

white foam was visible when the lofty waves reared up their crested

heads to lash the impending cliffs; but we have said that the bosom of

the harbour was smooth as a summer lake when compared with the tumult of

the fiord of Christiana. Overhead, showers of red sparks were swept

away through the gloom, from the beacon that blazed on the keep to

direct the waveworn ship.

"What led Hans Knuber and his brother knave of the net, to deem the

stranger was a Scot? By her lumbering leeboard I would have sworn she

was a Lubecker."

"Nay, Sir, her high fore and after castles marked her Scottish build;

and both Hans Knuber and Jans Thorson, who have eyes for these matters,

and have traded to Kirkwall--yea, and even to that Scottish sea the

fiord of Forth--averred she bore Saint Andrew's saltire flying at her

mizen-peak----I see nothing of her now," continued Sueno.

"See! why, 'tis so dark, one cannot see the length of one's own nose.

They must have perished!"

At that moment the flash of a culverin glared amid the obscurity far

down below; but its report was borne away on the wind that roared down

the narrow fiord to bury its fury in the Skager Rack.

"God and St. Olaus be praised!" muttered the old knight, rubbing his

hands: "they are almost within the haven mouth; another moment, and they

will be safe."

"Thou forgettest, noble sir," said the chamberlain, "that the stranger's

pilot may be unacquainted with the nooks and crooks of our harbour, the

rocks and reefs that fringe it, and that the water in some parts is two

hundred fathoms deep."

"Saidst thou not that Konrad and Hans Knuber had put off in a boat?"

"True, true! A ray of light is shining on the water now."

"Whence comes it?"

"'Tis the hermit in the cavern under the rocks, who hath lit a beacon on

the beach to direct the benighted ship."

"Saint Olaf bless him! Hoh! there goeth the culverin again. We heard

the report this time. They are saved! 'Tis Konrad of Saltzberg hath

done this gallant deed, and heaven reward him! for many a poor fellow

had perished else. Now that they are in safe anchorage, away Sueno

Throndson, take thy chamberlain's staff and chain, man a boat, board

this seaworn ship, and invite this Scottish lord to Bergen; for a foul

shame it were in a knight of the Elephant, to permit the ambassador of a

queen, to remain on shipboard after such a storm, and within a bowshot

of his Danish majesty's castle: we would be worse than Finns or

Muscovites. Away, Sueno! for now the storm is lulling, and under the lee

of its high hills the harbour is smooth as a mirror."

Thus commanded, Sueno unwillingly enveloped himself once more in the

before-mentioned fur mantle, and retired.

A blast of his horn was heard to ring in the yard as he summoned certain

followers, who grumbled and swore in guttural Norse as they scrambled

after him down the steep and winding pathway, that led from the castle

gate to the mole of Bergen.

*CHAPTER III.*

*THE STRANGERS.*

To tell the terrors of deep untried,

What toils we suffer'd, and what storms defied;

What mountain surges, mountain surges lash'd,

What sudden hurricanes the canvass dash'd;

To tell each horror in the deep reveal'd,

Would ask an iron throat with tenfold vigour steel'd.

_Lusiad of Camoens._

"How now, Anna! thou lookest as pale as if all the gnomes of the

Silverbergen, or Nippen and Zernebok to boot, had been about thee. Art

thou affrighted by the storm, child?" asked Erick, pinching the soft

cheek of his niece, who at that moment had entered the hall, and glided

to his side in one of the great windows.

Her only reply was to clasp her hands upon his arm, and look up in his

face with a fond smile.

Anna Rosenkrantz was the only daughter of Svend of Aggerhuis, the

governor's younger brother, who had fallen in battle with the

Holsteiners. In stature she was rather under the middle height; and so

full and round was her outline, that many might have considered it too

much so, but for the exquisite fairness of her skin, the beauty of her

features, and the grace pervading every motion. Norway is famed for its

fair beauties, but the lustre of Anna's complexion was dazzling; her

neck and forehead were white as the unmelting snows of the Dovrefeldt.

From under the lappets of a little velvet cap, which was edged by a row

of Onslo pearls, her dark-brown ringlets flowed in heavy profusion, and

seemed almost black when contrasted with the neck on which they waved.

Her eyes were of a decided grey, dark, but clear and sparkling. The

curve of her mouth and chin were very piquant and arch in expression;

her smile was ever one of surpassing sweetness, and at times of

coquetry.

A jacket of black velvet, fashioned like a Bohemian vest, trimmed with

narrow edgings of white fur, and studded with seed pearls, displayed the

full contour of her beautiful bust; but unhappily her skirt was one of

those enormous fardingales which were then becoming the rage over all

Europe.

"Have the roaring of the wind and the screaming of the water-sprite

scared thee, Anna?" continued the old man, who, like a true Nordlander,

believed every element to be peopled by unseen spirits and imps. "By

the bones of Lodbrog!" he added, patting her soft cheek with his huge

bony hand, "my mind misgave me much that this last year's sojourn at the

palace of Kiobenhafen would fairly undo thee."

"How, good uncle?" said Anna, blushing slightly.

"By tainting thine inbred hardiment of soul, my little damsel, and

making thee, instead of a fearless Norse maiden, and a dweller in the

land of hills and cataracts, like one of those sickly moppets whom I

have seen clustered round the tabouret of Frederick's queen, when, for

my sins, I spent a summer at his court during the war with Christian

II., that tyrant and tool of the Dutch harlot, Sigiberta."

"Indeed, uncle mine, you mistake me," replied Anna, "though I will own

myself somewhat terrified by this unwonted storm."

"There now! said I not so? Three years ago, would the screaming of the

eagles, the yelling of the wood-demon, the howl of the wind, or the

tumult of the ocean, when all the spirits of the Skager Rack are rolling

its billows on the rocks, have affrighted thee? Bah! what is there so

terrible in all that? Do not forget, my girl, that thou comest of a race

of sea-kings who trace their blood from O'Ivarre--he who with Andd and

Olaff ravaged all the Scottish shores from Thurso to the Clyde, and once

even placed the red lion of Norway on the double dun of Alcluyd.[*] But

I warrant thou art only terrified for young Konrad, who, like a gallant

Norseman, hath run his life into such deadly peril."

[*] A.D. 870 (Note by Mag. Absalom Beyer.)

"Konrad--tush!" said Anna pettishly.

"Ay, Konrad!" reiterated Erick testily; "which way doth the wind blow

now? By my soul, damosel, thou takest very quietly the danger in which

the finest young fellow in all Norway has thrust himself--when even the

boldest of our fishers drew back. He departed in a poor shallop to

guide yonder devilish ship round the dangerous promontory, and if the

blessed saints have not prevailed over the spirits of evil, who make

their bourne in the caverns of that dark ocean--then I say, God help

thee, Konrad of Saltzberg! But fear not, Anna," continued the old man

kindly, perceiving that she turned away as if to conceal tears; "for thy

lover is stout of heart and strong of hand--and--there now!--the devil's

in my old gossiping tongue--pest upon it!--I have made thee weep."

Anna's breast heaved very perceptibly, and she covered her face, not to

conceal her tears, but the smile that spread over her features.

"Come, damosel--away to thy toilet; for know there is in yonder ship

which we have watched the livelong day, and which has escaped

destruction so narrowly, a certain great lord, who this night shall sup

with us; for I have sent Sueno with a courteous message, inviting him to

abide, so long as it pleases him, in the king's castle of Bergen. Be

gay, Anna; for I doubt not thou wilt be dying to hear tidings of what is

astir in the great world around Aggerhuis; for, during the last month

since thy return here, thou hast moped like some melancholy oyster on

the frozen cape yonder."

"A great lord, saidst thou, uncle?" asked Anna with sudden animation.

"Of Scotland--so said Sueno."

Anna blushed scarlet; but the momentary expression of confusion was

replaced by one of pride and triumph.

"Did thou hear of any such at Frederick's court, little one?"

"Yes--oh yes! there were two on an embassy concerning the isles of

Shetland."

"Ah! which that fool, Christian of Oldenburg, gave to the Scottish king

with his daughter Margaret? Their names?"

"I marked them not," replied Anna with hesitation; "for thou knowest,

uncle mine, I bear no good-will unto these rough-footed Scots."

"Keep all thy good-will for the lad who loves thee so well," said the

old man smiling, as he pressed his wiry mustaches against her white

forehead. "I see thou hast still the old Norse spirit, Anna. Though

three centuries have come and gone since the field of Largs was lost by

Haco and his host, we have not forgotten it; and vengeance for that

day's slaughter and defeat still forms no small item in our oaths of

fealty and of knighthood. But hark! the horn of Sueno! There are

torches flashing on the windows, and strange voices echoing, in the

court. Away, girl! and bring me my sword and collars of knighthood from

yonder cabinet; for I must receive these guests as becomes the king's

representative at Aggerhuis, and captain of his castle of Bergen."

Anna glided from his side, and in a minute returned with a casket from

the cabinet, and the long heavy sword that lay on the chair at the

fireplace. She clasped the rich waistbelt round the old man's burly

figure, and drawing from the casket the gold chain with the diamond

_Elephant_, having under its feet the enamelled motto,

"Trew is Wildbrat,"--

and the woven collar bearing the red cross of the Dannebrog, she placed

them round Sir Brick's neck, and the jewels sparkled brightly among the

red hair of his bushy beard.

She then glanced hurriedly at her own figure in an opposite mirror;

adjusted the jaunty little cap before mentioned; ran her slender fingers

through her long dark ringlets; smiled with satisfaction at her own

beauty; and took her seat on a low tabouret near the great stuffed

chair, between the gilded arms of which the pompous old governor wedged

his rotund figure, with an energy that made his visage flush scarlet to

the temples; and he had barely time to assume his most imposing aspect

of official dignity, when the light of several flambeaux flashed through

the dark doorway at the lower end of the hall, and the handsome

commander of his crossbowmen, Konrad of Saltzberg, with his features

pale from fatigue, and his long locks, like his furred pelisse, damp

with salt water, and Sueno wearing his gold chain and key, having his

white wand uplifted, and attended by several torch-bearers in the king's

livery, preceded the strangers.

The first who approached was a tall and handsome man, in whose strong

figure there was a certain jaunty air, that suited well the peculiar

daredevil expression of his deep dark eye, which bespoke the confirmed

man of pleasure. He seemed to be about thirty years of age, and was

clad in a shining doublet of cloth of gold, over which he wore a cuirass

of the finest steel, attached to the backplate by braces of burnished

silver. His mantle was of purple velvet lined with white satin; his

trunk breeches were of the latter material slashed with scarlet silk,

and were of that enormous fashion then so much in vogue, being so

preposterously stuffed with tow, hair, or bombast, as to render even

greaves useless in battle. He wore a long sword and Scottish dagger.

His blue velvet bonnet was adorned by a diamond aigrette, from which

sprung three tall white ostrich feathers. His eyes were keen, dark, and

proud, and their brows nearly met over his nose, which was straight; he

wore little beard, but his mustaches were thick and pointed upward. His

page, a saucy-looking lad of sixteen, whom he jocularly called Nick (for

his name was Nicholas Hubert), came close behind him; he was richly

attired, and bore a very handsome salade of polished steel.

His companion, who deferentially remained a few paces behind, was also

richly clad in the same extravagant fashion. His complexion was swarthy

and dark as that of a Spanish Moor. His peaked beard, his enormous

mustaches and short curly hair, were of the deepest black, and his dark

hazel eyes were fierce, keen, and restless in expression. In addition to

his sword and dagger, which were of unusual length, he carried at his

glittering baldrick a short wheelock caliver or dague; and in lieu of a

corselet wore a pyne doublet, calculated to resist sword-cuts. He had a

gorget of fine steel under his thick ruff; and we must not omit to add

that his bulk and stature were gigantic, for he stood six foot eight in

his boots.

"My lord, Sir Erick," began the chamberlain, "allow me to introduce

James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, a noble peer, ambassador from Mary,

queen of the Scots, to his Danish majesty."

The portly governor of Aggerhuis bowed profoundly, each time reversing

the hilt of the long toledo that hung by his voluminous trunk hose;

while the graceful Earl, with a courtesy that, to a close observer,

might have seemed a little overdone, swept the hall floor with his

ostrich plumes as he bowed and shook the hand of the bluff old

Norwegian.

"Hark you, master chamberlain," said he, "please to introduce my

friend."

"My lord, Sir Erick," began Sueno.

"Cock and pie! Bothwell! he can introduce himself without the aid of

chamberlain or chambercheild," said the dark man with a bravo air. "My

good lord governor, thou seest in me Hob Ormiston of that Ilk, otherwise

Black Hob of Teviotdale, very much at your service; and, by the holy

rood!"----

"Stuff!" interrupted the Earl; "know, we swear by nought but the staff

of John Knox now."

"Foul fell thee, Bothwell!" said Black Hob ironically; "art thou growing

profane?"

"Art thou turning preacher?" whispered the Earl with a laugh; "but

prithee act gravely before this old Norland bear, or ill may come of it.

We thank you for your gracious hospitality, fair Sir," he added aloud;

"and with gratitude will exchange for this noble hall, the narrow cabin

of my half sinking galliot, and the black tumbling waves of yonder

devilish sea."

"The king's castle of Bergen is ever at the service of the subjects of

her fair Scottish majesty; and, in the name of Frederick of Zeeland, I

bid you welcome to its poor accommodation."

"And now, brave youth! by whose valour we have been saved, let me thank

you," said the Scottish earl, turning suddenly with generous gratitude

to Konrad of Saltzberg, who had remained a little behind. "Had you not

gained our ship at that desperate crisis, and directed our wavering

timoneer, it had assuredly been dashed to pieces on yonder promontory."

"Yes--noble sir--the Devil's Nose," said Sueno.

"To venture in that frail shallop through the fierce surf of yonder

boiling sea, was the bravest deed I ever saw man do; and remember I come

from a land of brave hearts and gallant deeds."

The Earl warmly shook the hand of Konrad, who endeavoured to gain one

glance from Anna, but she was too intently regarding the strangers.

In the dusky shadow formed by the projecting mantelpiece, she had stood

a little apart, but now caught the eye of the Earl, who, with an air in

which exquisite grace was curiously blended with assurance, advanced and

kissed her hand.

"'Tis my niece," said Rosenkrantz; but the moment the light fell full

upon her blushing face and beautiful figure, Bothwell started--his

colour heightened, and his eyes sparkled.

"Anna--Lady Anna!"--he exclaimed; "art _thou_ here?"

"Welcome, my lord, to Bergen," she replied with a bright smile; "then

you have not forgotten me?"

"Forgotten thee!" exclaimed the Earl, as half kneeling he again kissed

her hand; "ah! how could I ever forget? This is joy indeed! How little

I dreamt of meeting thee here, fair Anna; for when we parted at the

palace of King Frederick, I feared it was to meet no more."

"Thou seest, my lord," she replied gaily; "that Fate never meant to

separate us altogether."

"Then I will rail at Fate no more."

"When I prayed the blessed Mary to intercede for the poor ship, which

all this live-long day we saw tossing on the waves of the Fiord, how

little did I deem my prayers were offered up for you!"

"A thousand thanks, dear lady! I too prayed, now and then; but I doubt

not the blessed Virgin hath rather hearkened to thee, who in purity,

beauty, and innocence may so nearly approach herself."

"Cock and pie!" muttered Ormiston through his black beard, as he yawned

and stretched his stalwart form before the blazing fire; "he is at his

old trade of love-making again. When a-God's name will he ever learn

sense!"

"What art thou grumbling at now, Hob Ormiston?" said the Earl laughing,

"when our poor crayer went surging headlong down into the dark trough of

yonder angry sea, by Saint Paul! I could not choose but laugh, to hear

thee alternately praying like a devout Christian, and swearing like a

rascally Pagan!"

"And all because of that enchanted rope with its three damnable knots,

which, despite my warnings, your lordship purchased for a rose-noble

from that villanous necromancer at Cronenborg. S'death! were I now

within arm's length of him, I would tie such a knot under his left ear

as would cure him of wizard wit for the future."

"How, fair sirs," asked the Castellan, whose capacity for the marvellous

was quite Norwegian; "this is marvel upon marvel! I deemed ye

strangers, and find that you my Lord Earl of Bothwell, and Anna my niece

and ward, are quite old friends--of that I will learn anon; but mean

time would fein hear more of this same enchanted cord, for which it

seems we are indebted for the honour of this visit to the king's"----

"Why, Sir Governor, it brought on that infernal storm, which nearly sent

us all to the bottom of the sea; and as for the base minion who sold

it"----

"Harkee, Hob of Ormiston," said the Earl gaily while glancing at Anna;

"I will hear nothing disrespectful said of my master of the black art,

whose spells have driven me within the circle of charms a thousand

degrees more powerful and enchanting."

"Cock and pie!" muttered Black Hob between his teeth.

"My lords," said the Castellan, who was bursting with impatience; "about

this rope"----

"At the castle of Cronenborg," replied Bothwell, "despite the reiterated

warnings of my friend, our stout skipper ventured ashore to bargain with

a certain necromancer who dwelleth at the promontory, and sells fair

winds to the passing ships. For a rose-noble, this knave gave him a

rope three Danish ells in length, whereon were three knots, each of

which he solemnly avowed would produce a favourable breeze. On the

first being untied, we certainly had one that carried us out of the

Sound; but thereafter it died away. Our skipper cursed the wizard for

his short measure, and untied the second knot, when, lo! another

friendly gale rippled over the sea, and bore us to Helmstadt, off which

it again fell a dead calm."

"Three handsful of salt should have been thrown into the sea," said

Sueno.

"For what?" asked Bothwell with a smile.

"Sueno is right," said Rosenkrantz; "one as an offering to Nippen, a

second for the water spirit, and a third for the demon of the wind."

"Our skipper contented himself by blaspheming like a Turk," continued

the Earl, "and untied the third knot, when, lo! there blew a perfect

storm. The wind and the waves rose--the rain fell, the lightning

flashed among the seething breakers, and--we are here."

"I will write to the king," said the governor, striking his long sword

energetically on the hall floor; "I will, by Saint Erick! and learn

whether this dark-dealing villain is to be permitted to trifle with the

lives of nobles and ambassadors by selling charms of evil under the

windows of his very palace."

"By my soul! Sir Governor, if I had him in bonny Teviotdale, I would

hang him on my dule-tree, where many a better man hath swung, and make

my enquiries thereafter."

"'Tis the second time this false son of darkness hath so tricked the

mariner. He sold an enchanted cord to my kinsman, Christian Alborg,

captain of the Biornen, a king's ship, which, on the untying of the

third knot, was blown right out into the North Sea--yea, unto the very

verge of those dangerous currents that run downhill to regions under the

polar star, frozen and desolate shores, from whence there can be no

return. But enough of this matter. Hark you, Sueno Throndson--and

thou, Van Dribbel the butler--see what the larder and cellar contain:

order up supper for our noble guests, and see that it be such as befits

well the king's castle of Bergen."

*CHAPTER IV.*

*A NORSE SUPPER.*

How goodly seems it ever to employ,

Man's social days in union and in joy;

The plenteous board high-heaped with oates divine,

And o'er the foaming bowl the laughing wine.

_Odyssey_, Book ix.

Bothwell surveyed the hall with a rapid glance, and then his eyes met

those of his friend and vassal, Hob of Ormiston, who had been making a

similar scrutiny, and he slightly shrugged his shoulders; for mentally

he had been reverting to his noble castle of Crichton, that

----"rises on the steep

Above the vale of Tyne;"

his lordly towers of Bothwell, that still, magnificent in their ruins,

overlook the beautiful Clyde, and therefrom he drew comparisons very

disadvantageous to "the king's castle of Bergen," as the old castellan

thereof was so fond of styling his residence.

"'Tis but a poor-looking hold this, my lord," said Hob in French; "yet I

dare swear we may put over the night in it very well."

A shade crossed the brow of Lady Anna, as with a gentle air of pique,

and in the same language, she said--

"I am grieved, noble sirs, that the accommodation of our poor house

displeases you."

"Cogsbones!" muttered Black Hob with confusion, but the Earl laughed.

"Ah, you know French!" he exclaimed with pleasure; "'tis delightful! I

will be able to converse with you so much more fluently than in the

broken Norse of the Shetlanders."

"You have been in France, doubtless?" said Anna.

"Frequently, on embassies from our late queen regent, Mary of Guise and

Lorraine, to the court of the magnificent Francis. Ah! some of the

happiest days of my life--yes, and some of the saddest too--have been

spent in the palace of the Tournelles."

A momentary frown gathered on the Earl's brow, but was immediately

replaced by a smile.

"And has your embassy from Mary of Scotland to Frederick of Denmark been

accomplished happily?"

"Not as yet, fair Anna," replied Bothwell hurriedly, while his brow

flushed; "for his Danish majesty lacks much the spirit of his

Scandinavian ancestors. Yet, dear madam, I cannot but deem my sojourn

in this northern clime a happy one, since it ends here," and he slightly

touched her hand.

While with open mouth the old governor of Bergen had been turning

alternately from his niece to the stranger, surprised to hear them

conversing so fluently in a language quite unknown to him, several

servants in red gaberdines and voluminous trunk breeches laid supper on

the long central table; while the warmth of the hall was increased by a

number of torches placed in grotesque stone brackets, projecting from

the walls, on the red masonry of which they shed a ruddy glow.

The Earl courteously handed the young lady to a seat, and placed himself

beside her.

Konrad had been in the act of advancing to assume his usual chair by her

side; but finding himself anticipated, and feeling instinctively and

sadly that perhaps he was not missed, he retired to the other end of the

table, and seated himself beside the strong and swarthy knight of

Ormiston.

"Twice hath he kissed her hand this night!" thought the young man with a

bitter sigh; "that hand which I have scarcely dared to touch--and twice

she seemed pleased by the attention; for her cheek flushed, and her eye

sparkled with the brightness of her joy."

The evening repast was somewhat plain and coarse, as the governor made

it his boast and pride to have every thing after the ancient Norwegian

fashion, and would as readily have permitted poison as any foreign

luxury or innovation to invade his board.

Reindeer meat, purchased from the wandering Lapps, and a trencher of

pickled herrings, occupied one end of the table; a venison pie the

other. There was a platter of ryemeal pudding, another of sharke, or

meat cut into thin slices, sprinkled with spices, and dried in the wind;

there were rye-loaves baked so hard that they would have required King

Erick's axe to split them, and crisped pancakes and rolls made of meal,

mixed with bark of the pine, dried and ground. There were preserved

wild-fruits and cloud-berries, floating in thick cream; but the only

liquors were Norwegian ale, and the native dricka, a decoction of barley

and juniper-tree.

Bothwell, who, as we have said, had seated himself beside the Lady Anna,

and was wholly occupied with her, scarcely remarked the rudeness of the

repast; but hungry Hob of Ormiston, whose whole and undivided affections

were about to be lavished on the table, looked exceedingly blank, and

the aspect of the venison pie, and trencher of purple cloudberries,

swimming in thick yellow cream, alone prevented him from exhibiting some

very marked signs of disdain.

Supper proceeded, and was partaken of with due Scandinavian voracity.

The portly governor of Aggerhuis wedged himself in his gilded chair at

the head of the table; Sueno the chamberlain seated himself at the foot.

Cornelius Van Dribbel, the bulbous-shaped Dutch butler of Bergen,

overlooked the cups and tankards; and to the company already mentioned

who occupied seats above the salt, were added a few Danish crossbowmen

in the scarlet livery of King Frederick, with Hans Knuber, Jans Thorson,

and the servants of the fortress, who devoured vast quantities of sharke

and oatmeal bread, drenching their red mustaches in the muddy ale, as

deeply as their ancestors, the fair-haired warriors of Olaff and of

Ivarre, could have done.

This motley company were assisted to whatever they required by four

pages, who bore the king's cipher embossed on the breasts of their

crimson doublets, which had those of Erick Rosenkrantz similarly wrought

on the back.

Bothwell, who had been accustomed to all those continental luxuries,

which the long and close intercourse with France had introduced among

the Scottish noblesse, exchanged but one furtive glance of scorn with

the tall knight of Teviotdale, and then proceeded at once to gain the

heart of the honest and unsophisticated governor, by draining a long

horn of ale, to the standard toast of the Nordlanders--"Old Norway!"

"_Gammle Norge!_" cried the old governor, and all present emptied their

cups with enthusiasm, not excepting the Danes; for the keen eye of

Rosenkrantz was fixed upon them in particular.

Oblivious of the presence of the burly governor, of young Konrad's

changing cheek and kindling eye, of bearded Ormiston's louring visage,

and all others around the board, the Earl of Bothwell, with all the

nonchalance of a soldier united to the suavity of a courtier, and the

air of a man who habitually pleased himself without valuing a jot the

ideas of others, was soon seen to make himself quite at home, to lounge

on the stuffed chair, and to stoop his head so close to Anna's, that at

times his black locks mingled with her glossier curls as they conversed

softly in French, but with a rapidity and gaiety that astonished even

themselves.

She was thus enabled to coquette, and he to make love with impunity,

under the very eyes of Konrad and her uncle. The former was painfully

watchful, but the latter divided his attention between a dish of savoury

sharke and a great pewter flagon of dricka; for, like a true old

Norseman, he was capable of eating any thing and in any quantity; and he

paused at times only to impress upon Sueno Throndson the necessity of

having the necromancer of Cronenborg strung up in one of his own cords.

"Holy Hansdag!" said he; "such things cannot be permitted. Vessels will

never pass the Sound, and the toll will go to the devil! Konrad of

Saltzberg, thou art a bold lad, and hast done gallant things in these

seas against the Lubeckers, and to thee will I commit the charge of

conveying this knave in fetters to King Frederick."

"If he sells fair winds, Sir Erick," began Konrad.

"Ah! but the dark son of Zernebok selleth foul as well."

"But only to strangers, and when he has none other in hand, perhaps,"

said Konrad with a smile; for he cordially wished that the enchanted

cord had blown the Scottish earl to the Arctic regions.

"Tush, Konrad! dost thou deem my kinsman, stout Christian Alborg of the

Biornen, a stranger?"

"We Scots have an old saw among us--That 'tis an ill wind that blows

nobody gude," said Hob Ormiston, as he once more assailed the crisp roof

of the venison pie with his long Scottish dagger; for it was not then

the fashion to furnish guests with knives, and forks were the invention

of a century later. "By the mass!" thought he; "the rascal Cupid will

assuredly mar thy fortune, my stout Lord Bothwell; for thou fallest in

love with every pretty woman, and art ever in some infernal scrape. Thy

health, Sir Governor," and bowing to Rosenkrantz, who warmly accorded,

Ormiston raised to his lips a great flagon of ale, the creamy froth of

which whitened the thick bristles of his black mustaches.

Bothwell and Anna still continued to converse in French.

"And so monsieur grew tired of the court of Denmark?" said Anna, with a

pretty lisp in her voice.

"When you left it I soon found that little remained to detain me there.

For me the sun had set--the glory had departed. I was _ennuyeed_ to

death, for there are no amusements such as I have been accustomed to. I

marvel that so warlike a prince as Frederick holds not at times a

passage of arms, or even a grand hunting party, among his knights and

peers. The greasy counts and ale-swilling barons who wear the crosses

of the Elephant and Dannebrog, throng the chambers of his great wooden

palace; but never one among them rouses a deer in the woods of Amack,

brings a boar to bay, or breaks a spear at the barriers."

"You should have set them an example, my lord," said Anna, with a half

pout which she assumed at times.

"These drunken Danes would have laughed me to scorn, for they were much

too wary to trust their fools' costards under steel casques for such a

purpose. They never in any age knew much of chivalry; and now the new

doctrines of Luther and of Calvin, like a cold blast, are laying it with

other and holier institutions in the dust. I regret that I did not hang

on Frederick's palace gate, my red shield, with the blue cheveron of

Hepburn, as a bravado to all comers," continued the flattering Earl in

his softest and most insinuating French; while he took in his the white

hand of the blushing girl, "in maintenance that Anna of Aggerhuis was

the fairest flower in Norway and in Denmark."

"By cock and pie! it might have hung there 'till doomsday for aught that

I would have cared anent the matter," muttered Hob Ormiston.

The eyes of Anna lighted up with that vanity which the language of the

Earl was so well calculated to feed, as she laughed, and said in a low

and almost breathless voice--

"And would you indeed have maintained this?"

"At the point of this sword, which my good-sire drew by Pinkie-burn, I

would have upheld it, madam--yea, to the last gasp!"

"I thank your courtesy, my Lord Bothwell; but," she asked in a manner

that seemed perfectly artless, "what could inspire so much bravery and

enthusiasm in my behalf?"

"Ah, what but love!" whispered the handsome Earl, while his dark eyes

filled with the softest languor. Anna blushed crimson, and a pause

ensued.

A shade perceptibly crossed the brow of Konrad. He had picked up a

smattering of French while commanding his band of crossbowmen in the

Lubeck war, and knew enough to perceive how dangerous to the love he had

so long borne Anna, was the tendency of this discourse.

"My lord," said he, with an anger which he could not entirely conceal,

"with an intent so foolish, I fear your red shield would have hung on

Frederick's gate like the wood-demon's annual axe--till it rusted away,

ere any man would have touched it."

"Sir Konrad," replied the Earl haughtily, "you may be right, for none

will dare to dispute the beauty of Lady Anna."

"Why not?" asked Konrad with blunt honesty. "Beauty exists often in the

mind of a lover alone; and all men cannot love the same woman."

The Earl smiled, and twirled his mustaches.

"Noble Sir, though I can very well perceive how you secretly scorn our

northern barbarism, there are those among us who could achieve feats

that the bravest and gayest of the French and Scottish knights would

shrink from attempting."

Bothwell raised his eyebrows slightly, and a very unmistakeable frown

gathered on tall Ormiston's swarthy brow; but here very opportunely old

Rosenkrantz, pausing in the midst of some enthusiastic speech, shouted

_Gammle Norge!_ and struck his empty flagon on the table.

"Ho!" said the Earl, "my brave friend, thou seemest a tall fellow, and

art used, I doubt not, to mail and arms?"

"A little to the use of the salade, steel hauberk, crossbow, and

dagger."

"And art a good horseman, both at the baresse and on the battle-field?"

added Bothwell, with a slight tinge of scorn in his manner.

"He knows not what you mean by _baresse_," said Anna with a laugh, that

stung Konrad to the soul. The Earl joined in it; and then, fired by

sudden anger and energy, the blood mounted to Konrad's open brow, as he

replied--

"Whatever a man will dare without the aid of spell or charm, that will I

dare, and perhaps achieve; and though, Sir Scot, I can perceive by thine

undisguised hauteur that thou scornest our rude Norse fashions and

primitive simplicity, I cannot forget that there are spirits bred among

these stupendous cliffs and pine-clad valleys, these boiling maelstroms

and foaming torrents, second to none in the world for bravery, for

honour, and for worth. I, who am the least among them in strength of

heart and limb, can climb a rock that hangs eight hundred feet above the

dashing surf, to win the down of the eider-duck or the eggs of the owl

and eagle. With a handful of salt I can train a wild-deer from the

solitary dens of the Silverbergen, or drag a white bear from its bourne

on the banks of the Agger. With a single bolt from my arblast, I can

pierce the swiftest eagle in full flight, and the fiercest boar with one

thrust of my hunting-spear. On midsummer eve, when Nippen and all the

spirits of evil are abroad, I have sought the Druid's circle in the most

savage depths of the Dovrefeldt, to hang the wood-demon's yearly gift on

the great oak where our pagan ancestors worshipped Thor of old, and

offered up the blood of captives taken in battle. And, in pursuit of

the seal and the seahorse, I have dashed my boat right through the mist

of the Fiord, even while the shriek of Uldra, the spirit of the vapour,

arose from its dusky bosom."

Though superstitious to a degree, Bothwell could not repress a smile on

hearing what Konrad deemed a climax to the assertion of his spirit and

courage. The eyes of Anna sparkled with something of admiration as he

spoke; but the Earl laughed with provoking good-nature as he replied--

"I doubt not thy courage, my friend, since to it I owe my seat at this

hospitable board, instead of being, perhaps, at the bottom of yonder

deep fiord; but the white bear--ha! ha! I would give a score of gold

unicorns to see thee, Black Hob, engaging such a denizen of old Norway."

"Nordland bear or boor, what the foul fiend care I?" replied Ormiston,

whose mouth was still crammed with paste. "God's death! many a time and

oft, in bonny Teviotdale and Ettrickshaws, I have driven a tough

Scottish spear through a brave English heart, piercing acton, jack, and

corselet of Milan, like a gossamer web. But enow of this pitiful

boasting, which better beseemeth schulebairns than bearded men."

Now the night waxed late, the great wooden clock at the end of the hall

had struck the hour for retiring, and sliced sweetcake and spiced ale

were served round.

Then all the company, after the Norwegian fashion, bowed to each other,

and saying, "Much good may the supper do you," prepared to separate.

The Earl and Ormiston were conducted, by Sueno Throndson and two

torchbearers, to a chamber in the upper part of the keep.

As Konrad turned to retire, he gave a wistful glance at Anna

Rosenkrantz, to receive, as usual, her parting smile; but her eyes were

fixed on Bothwell's retreating figure and waving plume, and slowly the

young man left the hall, with a heart full of jealous and bitter

thoughts.

*CHAPTER V.*

*THE EARL AND HOB DISCOURSE.*

'Tis well for you, Sir,

To make your love subservient to your pleasure;

But I, who am an honourable man,

Adore the sex too much to act so basely.

_Old Play._

The Scottish guests were escorted by the chamberlain to an apartment in

the donjon-tower, immediately above the hall.

It was arched with red sandstone, and, as frequently occurred in the

sleeping chambers of such edifices in that age, contained two beds.

These were low four-posted and heavily-canopied couches, covered with

eider-down quilts of elaborate pattern; while the oak floor, according

to the fashion of the country, was thickly strewn with small juniper

branches, instead of straw, as in England. A dim cresset, on a long

iron stalk, lighted the chamber, on beholding the primitive aspect of

which the Earl and his friend exchanged significant glances; while

Sueno, in courtesy to their rank, placed a handsome sword on a low

tabourette that stood midway between the couches, and retired.

"'Tis a pretty knife this!" said Hob of Ormiston, as he drew the shining

blade from its scabbard and surveyed it; "however, I would rather have

this berry-brown whinger, that my father drew on Flodden Field," he

added, unbuckling the broad baldrick that sustained his immense

two-handed sword. "Doth he not seem an honest soul, this old Norwegian

boor, I mean baron--craving pardon--and his dumpy little daughter?"

"Niece, thou meanest," said Bothwell suddenly, becoming all attention.

"One must speak cautiously of her, I suppose?"

"It would be wise of more than one; but," said Bothwell, "is it not

remarkable that we should meet thus again? What seest thou in this?"

"In what?"

"Our unexpected meeting, after parting as we thought for ever."

"See!" yawned Ormiston, untrussing his points, "why--nothing!"

"Insensible! dost thou not see the hand of Fate?"

"Nay," said Hob ironically: "my Lord of Bothwell and of Hailes, I can

perceive only the finger of mischief."

"Anna is very beautiful."

"After the fat and languid dames of Denmark, with their red locks and

gaudy dresses," said Ormiston, as he slipped into bed, "there is, I own,

something quite refreshing to my refined taste"----

"Thy refined taste, ha! ha!" laughed the Earl.

"I say to my refined taste," continued Hob testily, "in the grace and

delicacy of this northern nymph."

"And I own to thee, Hob of Ormiston, my true vassal and most trusted

friend, that all my old passion is revived in full force, and that I

love her as I never loved"----

"Even Jane of Huntly," said Black Hob, maliciously closing the sentence.

"Under favour, as thou lovest me, Hob," said the noble with a frown,

"say no more of her, just now at least."

"Ha! ha! after seeing the beauties of the Tournelles, of Versailles, and

even our own Holyrood, thou art seriously smitten by this little

Norwegian, eh?"

"My whole heart and soul are hers," said the Earl in a voice that was

low, but full of passion.

"Now may the great devil burn me!" cried Ormiston, as a horse-laugh

convulsed his bulky figure. "I think 'tis the twentieth time thy heart

hath been disposed of in the same fashion, and I do not think that any

damsel found herself much enriched by the possession thereof. As for

thy soul, that being as I believe gifted already"----

"Harkee, Hob, be not insolent, for our swords are lying at hand.... Oh

yes! from the first moment I met this fair girl at Copenhagen, a

mysterious sympathy drew my heart instinctively towards her; and not

until she left the court of Frederick did I find the full depth of my

passion."

"Substitute Holyrood for Copenhagen," continued Hob in the same gibing

tone, "and this will be almost word for word what I once heard thee

whisper to winsome Jeanie Gordon in the long gallery."

"Damnation, varlet! thou wilt drive me mad," cried the Earl, kicking his

trunk-hose to the farthest end of the chamber; for the spiced ale of Van

Dribbel was mounting fast into his brain. "How dared your curiosity

presume so far? But I care not telling thee, that I love her a thousand

times more than Huntly's sickly sister, whom perhaps I may never see

again."

"Very possibly; but, cock and pie! thou canst not mean to marry her?"

"Perhaps not, if she would sail with me on easier terms," said the

libertine Earl in a low voice.

"Please yourself," said Ormiston, who had begun to tire of the

conversation; "but remember your solemn plight to the Lady Jane Gordon."

"A rare fellow thou to give good advice!"

"And that, if your solemn vow be broken, our doleful case would then be

worse than ever. Ten thousand claymores would be unsheathed in

Badenoch, Auchindoune, and Strathbolgie; we should have another northern

rebellion to welcome our return."

"That would be merry and gay."

"Another Corrichie to fight, and"----

"What more?"

"A Bothwell to fall."

"Sayest thou? forgetting that, like thee, I am all but ruined, and the

errand on which I came hither?"

"To league with that red-haired fox, Frederick of Zeeland, for placing

the northern isles in his possession, on condition that thou art viceroy

thereof--a notable project!"