What a brave group we have! That fellow there,
He with the cushion, would outprate the cricket;
The babble of the brook is not more constant,
Or syllabled with such monotony,
Than the eternal tingle of his tongue.
_Cor._ I'll bid him silence, master;
Or do him so, which likes you.
_The Prioress._
We must now leave the two commanders in plights more dismal than ever
commanders were before, and return to our warden, the bold baron of
Mountcomyn, whose feats form a more pleasant and diverting subject. His
warfare all this while was of a predatory nature,--for that his warriors
were peculiarly fitted, and at this time they did not fail to avail
themselves well of the troubles on the border, and the prevailing power
of the Scots alongst its line. The warden pretended still to be acting
in concert with Douglas, but his operations were all according to the
purposes of his own heart. He cared nothing for the success or the
aggrandisement of Douglas; but he had a particular eye to the
advancement of his own house, and the honour of his kinsmen. It was
therefore a matter of daily consultation with him and his friends, how
they should act in conformity with this ruling principle. The
probability was against Douglas, that he would ultimately fail in his
undertaking, and be stripped of all his dominions. Viewing the matter in
that light, it was high time for the Redhough to be providing for
himself. On the other hand, should Douglas succeed in his enterprize,
and become the king's son-in-law, there was no other way by which the
warden could hold his own, save by a certain species of subordination, a
submission in effect, though not by acknowledgment. Such matters were
perfectly understood by the chiefs in these times, and all who proved
refractory were taught in silence to feel the grounds on which they
stood, This was, therefore, a most critical period for Sir Ringan. The
future advancement of his house depended on every turn of his hand.
During all the former part of the siege he had conducted himself with an
eye to Douglas' failure, to which he was partly incited by the
prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer, and those of his kinsman, Master
Michael Scott of Oakwood, whom he believed the most powerful wizard, and
the greatest prophet, that ever had arisen since the Rhymer's days.
But, on the return of Charlie of Yardbire and Dan Chisholm from the
beleaguering army, the warden got the extraordinary intelligence, that
the Lady Jane Howard had fallen into the hands of the Douglas, as well
as Musgrave's only brother. These things changed Sir Ringan's prospects
of the future in a very material degree, and he pondered on changing his
mode of operations. Before doing so, however, he called a council of his
kinsmen, and brought the matter again before them. Most of them
counselled the continuance of the predatory warfare in which they had
been engaged; it had served to enrich them, and had proved, as they
reasoned, of more service to the Douglas than if they had joined his
host. That it proved of more service to himself and his kinsmen than if
they had joined the host, the warden was well aware; but he was not
satisfied that the Douglas viewed their mountain warfare as of great
consequence to him; and he farther knew, that services were always
repaid, not according to the toil and exertion undergone, but according
as they were estimated, while that estimation was ever and anon modelled
by the apparent motives of the performer.
After much slow and inanimate reasoning on the matter, Sir Ringan
chanced, after a minute's deep thought, to say, "What would I not give
to know the events that are to happen at Roxburgh between this time and
the end of the Christmas holidays?"
"Auld Michael Scott will ken brawly," said Charlie of Yardbire.
"Then, what for shoudna we ken too?" said the knight.
"Aye, what for shoudna we ken too?" said Dickie o' Dryhope.
"They might get a kittle cast that meddled wi' him, an' nae the wiser
after a'," said Robert of Howpasley.
"When he was at pains to come a' the way to the castle of Mountcomyn,"
said Simon Longspeare, "a matter o' five Scots miles ower the moor, to
warn our captain, the warden, how to row his bowls, he surely winna
refuse to tell him what's to be the final issue o' this daft contest."
"Ane wad think he wadna spare a cantrip or twa," said Sir Ringan; "him
that has spirits at his ca', an' canna get them hadden i' wark. It wad
be an easy matter for him; an' blood's aye thicker than water."
"Ay, that's a true tale," said Dickie o' Dryhope; "It wad be an easy
matter for him, we a' ken that; an' blood's aye thicker than water!"
"If I were to gang wi' a gallant retinue," said Sir Ringan, "he surely
wadna refuse to gie me some answer."
"He wad refuse the king o' France," said Robert of Howpasley, "if he
warna i' the key for human conversation, an' maybe gar his familiar
spirits carry you away, and thraw ye into the sea, or set you down i'
some faraway land, for a piece o' employment to them, and amusement to
himsel'. He has served mony ane that gate afore now."
"Od I'll defy him," said muckle Charlie of Yardbire. "If my master, the
warden, likes to tak me wi' him for his elbowman, I'll answer for him
against a' the monkey spirits that auld Michael has."
"Spoke like yourself, honest Charlie!" said the baron; "and if it is
judged meet by my friends that I should go, you shall be one that shall
attend me. Certes, it would be of incalculable benefit to me, for all
your sakes, to know even by a small hint what is to be the upshot of
this business--But should I be taken away or detained--"
"Ay, should he be taken away or detained, gentlemen: think of that,
gentlemen," said Dickie o' Dryhope.
"I approve highly of the mission," said Simon Longspeare; "for I believe
there is nothing too hard for that old wizard to do, and no event so
closely sealed up in futurity, but that he can calculate with a good
deal of certainty on the issue. I see that our all depends on our
knowledge of the event; but I disapprove of our chief attending on the
wizard in person--for in his absence who is to be our commander? And,
should any sudden rising of our foes take place, of which we are every
hour uncertain, we may lose more by the want of him one hour than we
could ever regain."
"Ay, think of that, gentlemen," said Dickie: "My cousin Longspeare
speaks good sense. What could we do wanting Sir Ringan. We're all
children to him, and little better without him."
"And old children are the worst of all children," said the warden; "I
would rather be deaved with the teething yammer than the toothless
chatter. Prithee, peace, and let us hear out our cousin Simon's
proposal."
The circle of the gallant kinsmen did not like ill to hear this snub on
old Dickie. They could not account for the chief's partiality to him;
and they were even afraid that, being the oldest man, he should be
nominated to the command in the knight's absence. It was however noted
by all, that Dickie was not half so great a man in field or foray as he
was at board in the castle of Mountcomyn. Only a very few men of
experience discerned the bottom of this. The truth was, that Sir Ringan
did not care a doit either for Dickie's counsels or his arm, but he saw
that his lady abhorred him, and therefore he would not yield to cast him
off. His lady was of a high spirit and proud unyielding temper, and the
knight could not stand his own with her at all times and seasons; but
before his kinsmen warriors he was particularly jealous of his dignity,
and would not yield to the encroachment on it of a single item. It was
by this kind of elemental opposition, if it may be so termed, that
Dickie maintained his consequence at the warden's castle. In the field
he was nothing more than a foolish vain old kinsman.
"I propose," said Longspeare," that we send a deputation of our _notable
men_ to the warlock, of whom we have some of the first that perhaps ever
the world produced. As a bard, or minstrel, we can send Colley Carol, a
man that is fit to charm the spirits out of the heart of the earth, or
the bowels of the cloud, without the aid of old Michael. As a man of
crabbed wit and endless absurdity, we can send the Deil's Tam: As a true
natural and moral philosopher, the Laird o' the Peatstacknowe: As one
versed in all the mysteries of religion, and many mysteries beside, or
some tell lies, we can send the gospel friar. All these are men of
spirit, and can handle the sword and the bow either less or more: And as
a man of unequalled strength and courage, and a guard and captain over
all the rest, we can send Charlie o' Yardbire--and I will defy all the
kingdoms of Europe to send out sic another quorum either to emperor,
Turk, wizard, or the devil himself."
Every one applauded Simon Longspeare's motion, and declared the
deputation worthy of being sent out, if it were for nothing but its own
unrivalled excellence. Never, they said, since the mind of man was
framed, was there such a combination of rare talent in so small a
circle. There was none of those nominated for the mission present
excepting muckle Charlie Scott. Charlie scratched his head, and
said:--"Gude faith, callans, I hae a queer bike to gang wi! he-he-he! I
fear we'll get mae to laugh at us than gie us ought: The Deil's
Tam an' the metre poet! the fat gospel friar, and the laird o' the
Peatstacknowe! I never gaed out on sic a foray as this afore, an' little
do I wot how we'll come on. He-he-he! A wheen queer chaps, faith!"
The jocund kinsmen then shouted to Gibby Jordan of the Peatstacknowe to
come into the circle, that they might hear what he had to say about
going on this celebrated embassy. This gentleman's name had erst been
Gordon: By some mistake, either in spelling, or falling into some foul
tub by night, for some grounded it both ways, it had been changed on him
to Jordan, and, as he had no resource, he was obliged to admit it as
legitimate. He was a man of education, and could read, write, and cast
up accounts. But his figure, features, and the nasal twine with which he
pronounced every word that he spoke, rendered his discourse irresistibly
ludicrous. Every one was so ready to give Jordan the information, that
he was chosen as one to go on a deputation to Master Michael Scott the
warlock, that the laird for a long time could not get a word said; but
stood and looked about him, turning always round his long nose to the
speaker that was loudest, or him that was poking him most forcibly to
obtain attention.
"Gentlemen," said Gibby Jordan, "you mind me of a story that I have
heard about a paddock that was lying on the plowed land, an' by comes
the harrows, an' they gangs out ower the tap o' the poor paddock, an'
every tooth gae her a tite an' a turn ower. 'What's the matter wi' you
the day, Mrs Paddock?' says the goodman: 'Naething ava, but rather ower
mony masters this morning,' quo' the paddock; 'I wish I were safe i' my
hole again, an' let them ring on.' Sae master's, I'll tak the paddock's
hint, an' wish ye a' a good morning."
There was no such escape for the honest laird; they surrounded him, and
insisted on hearing his sentiments at full length, teasing him till he
began to lose his temper, a thing in which they delighted, for the more
mischief the better sport for these wild border moss-troopers. But
muckle Charlie perceiving this, came up to his side. "Callants, I'm
appointit Gibby's guard," said he, "an' his guard I'll be. What the deil
has ony o' you to say to him?"
"Only to hear what he thinks o' the journey," was repeated on all sides.
"Gentlemen," said Gibby, "the hale affair brings me a-mind of a story
that I hae heard about a wife that had a batch o' chickens. But then, ye
maun mind, gentlemen, she had a very great deal o' chickens, I daresay
nae fewer than a hunner, for she had sax great cleckings; an' she was
unco feared that the gled wad tak them away; sae she wales out a wheen
o' the fattest an' the best, an' she sends them out to the cock, that he
might herd an' tak care o' them. 'The cock will fleg away the gleds,'
quo she, 'an' gar them keep their distance, an' I'll get my braw birds
a' saved.' But by comes the greedy gled; an' when the cock saw him he
croups an' he currs; an' blithe to keep his ain skin hale, he staps his
head in a hole, an' the gled carried off the hale o' his bit charge.
Weel, the gled, he fand them sae fat an' sae gusty, that he never linned
till he had taen away every chicken that the wife had."
"Where is the moral of that story, laird?" cried they: "We see no
coincidence."
"Because ye're blind," said Jordan: "Dinna ye see that Michael's the
cock, the deil's the gled, an' ye're the birds. He'll get us first; an'
he'll find out that we're sic a wheen rare chaps, that he'll never blin'
till he hae ye ilk ane, an' that will be the end o' your daft embassy."
All the rest of the nominated members being sent for expressly from
their different posts, they soon arrived, but they seemed every one to
be averse to the mission, except Colley the minstrel, who was elevated
with the idea of being introduced to the celebrated Master, anticipating
something highly romantic, and precisely in his own way. As for Thomas
Craik, better known by the singular appellation of the Deil's Tam, he
cared not much about any thing, provided he got plenty of drink,
mischief, and breaking of heads.
They got all that day to prepare themselves, while Sir Ringan and his
friends were considering what they should send as a present to the
illustrious necromancer. They weened he despised riches, believing that
he could turn small slates to gold by touching them; and, after much
consultation, it was resolved to send him a captive maiden and boy, as
they had two in the camp, of exquisite loveliness. The maid was the
reputed daughter of Sir Anthony Hall, an inveterate enemy to the baron
of Mountcomyn, who had burned his castles and plundered his lands; but
the warden at length engaging with him hand to hand at the battle of
Blaikhope, slew him, and having discomfited his army, he plundered and
harried all that pertained to him, at which time he took this beautiful
maiden prisoner, whom he treated kindly, and kept as an handmaiden. Her
name was Delany; and so lovely was she become in person, and so amiable
in her manners, that several of the knight's kinsmen had asked her in
marriage. These applications he had uniformly put off, on pretence of
his friends degrading themselves by marrying a captive Englishwoman, a
term that never sounded in a Scot's ear but with disgust. But, in fact,
the warden did not choose that any of them should be so closely
connected with an old respectable Northumberland family.
The boy was called Elias, and was the property of Jock o' Gilmanscleuch,
having been taken by him in a night foray at Rothbury. When the warden
applied to Jock for him, bidding him name his ransom, he answered, that
if he wist "Michael wad either mak a warlock o' him, or tak out his
harigalds to be a sacrifice to the deil, he wadna gie him up for a' the
lands o' Newburgh an' Birkendely." Being pacified on these points as
well as matters would bear, the two captives were dressed in elegant
robes, and delivered to the embassy; Charlie was deputed their captain
and leader; the rest were all to be equals, on the same footing, and to
choose their own speakers.
After getting every direction regarding the purport of their mission,
the caution and respect which they were to use toward the Master, and
the questions they were to get answered, they departed; every one well
mounted on an English horse, the friar on his own substantial mule, and
such provision with them as they judged necessary. Carol, the bard, had
a lyre and a flute. Gibby Jordan, ycleped of the Peatstacknowe, had
nothing beside a rusty sword; the friar had an immense wallet below him,
judged to be all implements of enchantment; the others had deer or
goatskin wallets, stuffed with such things as they deemed necessary; and
all of them wore arms, in case of meeting with any unknown interruption.
Several of the gallant kinsmen shed tears on taking leave of Delany;
who, contrary to what they all expected, seemed full of gaiety, and
rather fond of the change than disheartened at it.
Well, away they rode; and, as soon as they were fairly out of sight of
the army, every one began to attach himself to Delany more closely than
his neighbour. The friar talked to her of penances, and the sins of
youth, and the unlimited confidence due to the professors of religion.
The bard chanted his wildest and most amorous ditties. Tam punned and
quibbled on the words of the rest; and Gibby continued to narrate his
long-winded parables, sometimes to one, sometimes to another, as he
found them disposed to listen, and sometimes to none at all. As for
Charlie, he contented himself with laughing at them all alternately, and
occasionally exchanging a word or sentiment with a valued friend of his.
"Corby, what's a' this cocking o' your lugs, an' casting up o' your head
for, lad? Ye're gaun the wrang road for a battle e'en now. An let you
but see the sword an' pree the spur, ye dog, ye wad carry your master to
the deil: an' troth, for ought he kens, ye may be carrying him born-head
to his honour just now, ye unconscionable tike that ye are."
Corby first laid back one ear and then the other, which Charlie took
for a kind answer; and, patting his mane, he continued: "Na, na, Corby;
I ken ye hae nae ill designs; but only ye ken ye like a little mischief,
an' a bit splutter now an' than."
"That minds me o' the story o' Janet Sandilands an' her son Jock," said
Gibby Jordan the philosopher, "when he ruggit her hair, an' raive her
bussing. 'That callant sude hae his hide threshed for lifting his hand
to his mother,' said one: 'Na, na,' quo Janet, 'he maunna be threshed;
Jock has nae ill in his mind, only he likes a tulzie.' She that wad hae
a close cog sude keep a hale laiggen, Yardbire; for as the auld saying
rins, 'Lippen to a Corby, an' he'll pike out your een.'"
"Shame fa' me gin I see the drift o' your philosophy, Peatstacknowe; but
as I'm sure it is weel meant, it sanna be ill ta'en. Corby an' me's twa
auld friends, an' we hae a great deal to lippen to ane another. But I
wish we had this unsonsy job ower, laird--we're gaun on kittle ground."
"It minds me something o' the fisher that ran away after the
Willy-an'-the-wisp," said Jordan: "It's a lang story, but it's weel
wordy the hearing."
"If it be a _very_ lang story, we might as weel crack about something
else," said Charlie. "My heart's unco muckle turned on this daft job o'
prying into the time that's to come, an' on what we're to say to the
warlock. Gude saif us, laird, wha's to be the speaker? I wish that
fleysome job maunna light on you? For you see, gin we set the deil's Tam
to address him, he'll put him mad at the very first. The poet can bring
out naething but rhames o' high flown nonsense; an' for mysel, I'm an
unco plain matter-o'-fact man, an' better at good straiks than good
words. Sae that the matter maun lie atween you an' the friar. What say
you to this, Peatstacknowe?"
"Gude troth, Yardbire, an the task light on either of us, it may weel
bring me in mind o' the laird o' Glencarthon, when he stack i' the
midden at Saint Johnston, an' tint himsel i' the dark entry. The laird,
you see, he comes to the door of a sow-house, an' calls out, 'Good
people within there, can you tell me the way to the Queen's hostlery?'
'Oogh?' cried the auld sow. The laird repeated his question quite
distinctly, which disturbing some o' the pigs, they came to the back o'
the door an' fell a murmuring an' squeaking. 'What do you say?' said the
laird in his turn: 'I'll thank you if you will not just speak so
vehemently.' The pigs went on. 'Oh, I hear you speak Erse in this
house,' said the laird; 'but, no matter: thank you for your information,
I will try to work my way.' Now you see, Yardbire, like draws aye to
like; an' for the friar, wi' his auld warld says, or me, to address the
great Master, it wad be a reversing o' nature an' the very order of
things. I hae nae hope o' our good success at a', an it warna for that
bonnie Delany. If he's a man, an' no just an incarnate deil, he will be
delightit wi' her."
"I wish we had her safely at him, laird," said Charlie; "for, troth, do
ye see, thae chaps hing about her, an' look at her as gin they wadna
care to eat her."
"She brings me amind o' a weelfaurd dink gimmer that wench," said
Jordan, "that I aince saw gaun up Sowerhopeburn. There was a tichel o'
wallidraggle tup hoggs rinning after her, an' plaguing her, till I was
just grieved for the poor beast. At length down there comes a
wheel-horned ram, the king o' the flock, an' he taks up his station by
the side o' the bonny thing, an' than a' the young ranigalds slinkit
away as their noses had been blooding. Then the bonny she thing got
peace, for whenever ony o' the rascallions began to jee up his lug, an'
draw near her, ae glent o' the auld fellow's ee stoppit him short. Now,
Yardbire, I trow it is a shame to see a pretty maid jaumphed an'
jur-mummled in that gate: if you will just ride close up to the tae side
o' her, I'll tak up the tither, an' we'll gar them keep a due distance.
There's nane o' them dares shoulder you aside."
"I doubt, laird, there is something selfish in that plan o' yours," said
Charlie; "ye hae a hankering yonder yourself, but ye darena try to make
your ain way without ye get me to back ye. Fight dog, fight bane,
Peatstacknowe; gin I be to tulzie for a bonny may, I tulzie for my ain
hand."
"It wad be sae weel done to chap them back," said Jordan: "See to the
metre poet how he's capering an' turning up his mou': Yon fat hypocrite,
the warlock friar, is blinking out frae aneath his sanctified ee-brees
like a Barbary ape: An' there's the deil's Tam; od I think he'll hae his
lang coulter nose stappit into her lug."
"Ride up, neighbour," quoth Charlie, "an' tell them that face to face. I
like nae yethering ahint backs. Ane may ward a blow at the breast, but a
prod at the back's no fair. A man wears neither ee nor armour there.
Ride up, ride up, neighbour, gin you winna tell them a' you have said,
I'll e'en tell them mysel."
"Yardbire, I hope ye're no gaen gyte, to breed despite amang the
warden's ambassadors to the deil. Stop till I tell you a queer joke
that's come into my mind by your speaking about armour ahint. Last year,
when the dalesmen were cried out in sic a hurry for the Durham raide,
there was ane o' Fairniehirst's troopers got strong breastplates o'
steel made to defend his heart. There was ane Brogg Paterson in Hawick,
a wag that I kenned weel, was employed to fit the harnessing to the
clothes; and learning that the raide was to be early in the morning, an'
nae leisure for shifting, an' seeing the trooper so intent on protecting
his heart, instead o' putting the steel plates in the inside o' his
doublet, Paterson fastened them in the seat of his trews. After passing
the Tine, the Scots encamped within a half moon of an impervious brake,
and sent out a party of foragers, among whom was this trooper Turnbull.
The party were pursued by a body of English horse, and several of them
slain; but Turnbull reaching the brake, plunged into it, horse and man.
The horse stuck fast, and just as poor Turnbull was trying to extricate
himself, by scrambling over the horse's head, an Englishman came riding
fiercely up, and struck him such a blow with his lance behind as would
have spitted him to the neck,--but hitting right on the steel plate, he
made him fly heels-o'er-head over the brake, and into a place of safety.
A comrade perceiving, came to assist him, and found Turnbull lying
on the ground, repeating to himself these words with the utmost
devotion:--"God bless Brogg Paterson in Hawick! God bless Brogg Paterson
in Hawick!" "Wherefore that?" said the other. "Because," said Turnbull,
"he kend better where my heart lay than I did."
Charlie laughed so heartily at this jocular tale, that he did not expose
Gibby Jordan of the Peatstacknowe to his associates at that time; but
keeping behind with him he held him in conversation, though he saw that
his teeth were watering to be near the fair Delany.
They came that night to a place called Trows, on the English side of the
border, but adjoining to the very ridge of the fells. The name of the
hind who sojourned there was Jock Robson. He had a good stock both of
cows and sheep, being so thoroughly a neutral man that both sides spared
him, and both sides trusted him. He gave a night's grass to the driven
cattle and sheep from each side, and a night's lodging to the drivers;
and for this he exacted kane sheep, or a small cow, which none ever
grudged him, because they found themselves so much at home in his house.
He would assist either party in catching a prey, and either party in
recovering it again, taking rewards from both; and, though both the
English and the Scots knew of this, they never trusted him the less, for
they knew that what he undertook he would fulfil, but no farther; out of
your sight, out of your pay and out of your service with Jock Robson.
At this yeoman's habitation our notable embassy arrived at a late hour,
for, though scarcely five o'clock afternoon, it was pitch dark. They
called at the door, and out came Jock with a light. The first man that
he beheld was the friar.
"Saint Mary's jerkin be about us!" cried Jock Robson, half in sport,
half in earnest, "and defend us from our auld black minny's delegates.
What seeks Lucky Church amang the hills o' Cheviot, wi' her creeds an'
her croons, her trumpery, an' her lang tythes o' sheep an' kye, wild
deer, and weathershaker, barndoor an' blackhag fowls? Nought for Minny
Church an' her bike here, Sir Monk--naething o' our ain breeding--a'
comers an' gangers, like John Nisbet's fat sheep. Howsomever, honest
bedesman, I speir ye the auld question,
"Come ye as friend, or come ye as fae?
For sic as ye bring, sic sal ye hae!"
"As thy friends do we come, uncourteous hind," said the monk; "and ask
only a little of thy bread, and thy strong drink, for the refreshment of
our bodies, that are like the grass on the tops of thy mountains, fading
ere it be full grown, and require as thou knowest a supply of earthly
refreshment as these do the showers of heaven; and also we ask of thee
beds whereon we may lie down and rest: and these things thou must not
refuse, for we would not that thou shouldst be to us as the children of
Amalek and Moab, and those of Mount Seir."
"Ye speak like a rational man, Sir Monk; but wait till I tell ye the
truth, that I lurde see the cross on the handle of sword or spear ony
time afore that hanging at the paunch of priest. There's mair honour an'
generosity ahint the tane than the tither. But yet it shall never be
said o' John Robson o' the Trows that he refused a friend quarters on a
dark night. He kens ower weel that the king may come in the beggar's
way. Gin ye be joking, he can stand a joke wi' ony man; but gin ye be
really gaun to hand him as an Amalekite, he wad like to ken what that
is, an' what lengths ye mean to gang."
"Thinkest thou that we will come into thy house to take of thy spoil for
a prey, and thy maid servants for bond-women, and also thy little ones?"
said the friar.
"The deil be there then," cried Jock Robson. "I wadna grudge ye meal an'
maut, but or ye lay a hand on ane o' my lasses, or kidnap away my bits
o' bairnies frae me, ye sal gang ower my breast, an' that wi' a braid
arrow through ilk ane o' you. Be at your shift, bauld priest, here's for
ye."
On saying so, he turned hastily about, and the friar that moment
clapping the spurs to his mule, gallopped round the corner, leaving the
rest to make good their quarters in the best way they could. The mention
of the broad arrow made him think it was high time for him to change his
ground.
"There rides gospel, guts an' a'," cried Tam Craik, laughing aloud.
The laugh was well known to Robson; for the warden's troopers had been
so often there that year, that almost all of them were John Robson's
personal acquaintances.
"What?" cried he, turning back his head, "Isna that the deil's Tam that
I hear?"
"Ay, what for shoudna it, lad? an' how dare ye fright away our chaplain
wi' your bows an' your braid arrows? Gin we had Jock's Marion, the
sow-killer's wife o' Jeddart, at ye, wha wad be crousest then, trow ye?"
"Tam, it is weel kend your tongue is nae scandal; but dinna ye lippen
ower muckle to your privilege; gin ye be come to quarter wi' me, dinna
let me hear sic a hard jibe as that the night again. Come away, however,
the warden's men are welcome, as weel they may be this year. Mony a fat
mart they hae left i' my hire. I hope ye hae brought a bonny kane the
night."
"Ay, by my certie, lad, an' that we hae; here's nae less a kane than
Jock's Marion hersel."
"Ye scawed like bog-stalker! skrinkit, skraeshankit skebeld! dare ye to
speak that gate to me at my ain door stane? I shall lend you a clout an
ye were the king's cousin, an' see if ye dare return the compliment.
Wife, bring the buet an' my piked rung here."
"Peace, in the king's name!" cried Charlie Scott.
"And in the name of St David!" cried the friar, returning to the charge
on hearing Charlie's voice.
"And in my name!" cried Tam Craik;" an' Gibby Jordan o' the
Peatstacknowe's name; and the name o' Jock's Marion, the sow-sticker's
wife o' Jeddart. I say unto thee, look here. Here is the kane will
please a brave yeoman. Look if this be nae Marion hersel"--and with that
he led Delany's palfrey up to the light.
Robson lifted his eyes and saw her, and was so much struck with her
dazzling beauty, that he had not power to address even his beloved
friend Charlie Scott, far less any other of his guests, but lifting the
maiden down in his arms, he led her in to his dame, and said to one of
his lads, "Rin out wi' a light, callant, an' help the troopers to put up
their horses."
The horses were soon put up, for every one seemed more anxious than
another to get first in to the cheek of Jock Robson's ingle, and have
his seat placed next to that of Delany; but the poet being the most
agile, and not the least amorous of the group, effected this greatly to
his satisfaction.