of wonder. Here a gay lady, in her muffler, or silken veil, traced her
way delicately, a gentleman-usher making way for her, a page bearing up
her train, and a waiting gentlewoman carrying her Bible, thus intimating
that her purpose was towards the church--There he might see a group of
citizens bending the same way, with their short Flemish cloaks, wide
trowsers, and high-caped doublets, a fashion to which, as well as to
their bonnet and feather, the Scots were long faithful. Then, again,
came the clergyman himself, in his black Geneva cloak and band, lending
a grave and attentive ear to the discourse of several persons who
accompanied him, and who were doubtless holding serious converse on
the religious subject he was about to treat of. Nor did there lack
passengers of a different class and appearance.
At every turn, Roland Graeme might see a gallant ruffle along in the
newer or French mode, his doublet slashed, and his points of the same
colours with the lining, his long sword on one side, and his poniard on
the other, behind him a body of stout serving men, proportioned to
his estate and quality, all of whom walked with the air of military
retainers, and were armed with sword and buckler, the latter being a
small round shield, not unlike the Highland target, having a steel
spike in the centre. Two of these parties, each headed by a person of
importance, chanced to meet in the very centre of the street, or, as
it was called, “the crown of the cause-way,” a post of honour as
tenaciously asserted in Scotland, as that of giving or taking the wall
used to be in the more southern part of the island. The two leaders
being of equal rank, and, most probably, either animated by political
dislike, or by recollection of some feudal enmity, marched close up
to each other, without yielding an inch to the right or the left; and
neither showing the least purpose of giving way, they stopped for an
instant, and then drew their swords. Their followers imitated their
example; about a score of weapons at once flashed in the sun, and there
was an immediate clatter of swords and bucklers, while the followers on
either side cried their master's name; the one shouting “Help, a Leslie!
a Leslie!” while the others answered with shouts of “Seyton! Seyton!”
with the additional punning slogan, “Set on, set on--bear the knaves to
the ground!”
If the falconer found difficulty in getting the page to go forward
before, it was now perfectly impossible. He reined up his horse, clapped
his hands, and, delighted with the fray, cried and shouted as fast as
any of those who were actually engaged in it.
The noise and cries thus arising on the Highgate, as it was called,
drew into the quarrel two or three other parties of gentlemen and their
servants, besides some single passengers, who, hearing a fray betwixt
these two distinguished names, took part in it, either for love or
hatred.
The combat became now very sharp, and although the sword-and-buckler men
made more clatter and noise than they did real damage, yet several
good cuts were dealt among them; and those who wore rapiers, a more
formidable weapon than the ordinary Scottish swords, gave and received
dangerous wounds. Two men were already stretched on the causeway, and
the party of Seyton began to give ground, being much inferior in number
to the other, with which several of the citizens had united themselves,
when young Roland Graeme, beholding their leader, a noble gentleman,
fighting bravely, and hard pressed with numbers, could withhold no
longer. “Adam Woodcock,” he said, “an you be a man, draw, and let us
take part with the Seyton.” And, without waiting a reply, or listening
to the falconer's earnest entreaty, that he would leave alone a strife
in which he had no concern, the fiery youth sprung from his horse, drew
his short sword, and shouting like the rest, “A Seyton! a Seyton! Set
on! set on!” thrust forward into the throng, and struck down one
of those who was pressing hardest upon the gentleman whose cause he
espoused. This sudden reinforcement gave spirit to the weaker party,
who began to renew the combat with much alacrity, when four of the
magistrates of the city, distinguished by their velvet cloaks and gold
chains, came up with a guard of halberdiers and citizens, armed with
long weapons, and well accustomed to such service, thrust boldly
forward, and compelled the swordsmen to separate, who immediately
retreated in different directions, leaving such of the wounded on both
sides, as had been disabled in the fray, lying on the street.
The falconer, who had been tearing his beard for anger at his comrade's
rashness, now rode up to him with the horse which he had caught by
the bridle, and accosted him with “Master Roland--master goose--master
mad-cap--will it please you to get on horse, and budge? or will you
remain here to be carried to prison, and made to answer for this pretty
day's work?”
The page, who had begun his retreat along with the Seytons, just as
if he had been one of their natural allies, was by this unceremonious
application made sensible that he was acting a foolish part; and,
obeying Adam Woodcock with some sense of shame, he sprung actively on
horseback, and upsetting with the shoulder of the animal a city-officer,
who was making towards him, he began to ride smartly down the street,
along with his companion, and was quickly out of the reach of the hue
and cry. In fact, rencounters of the kind were so common in Edinburgh
at that period, that the disturbance seldom excited much attention after
the affray was over, unless some person of consequence chanced to have
fallen, an incident which imposed on his friends the duty of avenging
his death on the first convenient opportunity. So feeble, indeed, was
the arm of the police, that it was not unusual for such skirmishes to
last for hours, where the parties were numerous and well matched. But at
this time the Regent, a man of great strength of character, aware of the
mischief which usually arose from such acts of violence, had prevailed
with the magistrates to keep a constant guard on foot for preventing or
separating such affrays as had happened in the present case.
The falconer and his young companion were now riding down the Canongate,
and had slackened their pace to avoid attracting attention, the rather
that there seemed to be no appearance of pursuit. Roland hung his head
as one who was conscious his conduct had been none of the wisest, whilst
his companion thus addressed him:
“Will you be pleased to tell me one thing, Master Roland Graeme, and
that is, whether there be a devil incarnate in you or no?”
“Truly, Master Adam Woodcock,” answered the page, “I would fain hope
there is not.”
“Then,” said Adam, “I would fain know by what other influence or
instigation you are perpetually at one end or the other of some bloody
brawl? What, I pray, had you to do with these Seytons and Leslies, that
you never heard the names of in your life before?”
“You are out there, my friend,” said Roland Graeme, “I have my own
reasons for being a friend to the Seytons.”
“They must have been very secret reasons then,” answered Adam Woodcock,
“for I think I could have wagered, you had never known one of the name;
and I am apt to believe still, that it was your unhallowed passion
for that clashing of cold iron, which has as much charm for you as the
clatter of a brass pan hath for a hive of bees, rather than any care
either for Seyton or for Leslie, that persuaded you to thrust your
fool's head into a quarrel that no ways concerned you. But take this for
a warning, my young master, that if you are to draw sword with every man
who draws sword on the Highgate here, it will be scarce worth your while
to sheathe bilbo again for the rest of your life, since, if I guess
rightly, it will scarce endure on such terms for many hours--all which I
leave to your serious consideration.”
“By my word, Adam, I honour your advice; and I promise you, that I will
practise by it as faithfully as if I were sworn apprentice to you,
to the trade and mystery of bearing myself with all wisdom and safety
through the new paths of life that I am about to be engaged in.”
“And therein you will do well,” said the falconer; “and I do not quarrel
with you, Master Roland, for having a grain over much spirit, because
I know one may bring to the hand a wild hawk which one never can a
dung-hill hen--and so betwixt two faults you have the best on't. But
besides your peculiar genius for quarrelling and lugging out your side
companion, my dear Master Roland, you have also the gift of peering
under every woman's muffler and screen, as if you expected to find
an old acquaintance. Though were you to spy one, I should be as much
surprised at it, well wotting how few you have seen of these same
wild-fowl, as I was at your taking so deep an interest even now in the
Seyton.”
“Tush, man! nonsense and folly,” answered Roland Graeme, “I but sought
to see what eyes these gentle hawks have got under their hood.”
“Ay, but it's a dangerous subject of inquiry,” said the falconer; “you
had better hold out your bare wrist for an eagle to perch upon.--Look
you, Master Roland, these pretty wild-geese cannot be hawked at without
risk--they have as many divings, boltings, and volleyings, as the most
gamesome quarry that falcon ever flew at--And besides, every woman of
them is manned with her husband, or her kind friend, or her brother,
or her cousin, or her sworn servant at the least--But you heed me not,
Master Roland, though I know the game so well--your eye is all on that
pretty damsel who trips down the gate before us--by my certes, I will
warrant her a blithe dancer either in reel or revel--a pair of silver
morisco bells would become these pretty ankles as well as the jesses
would suit the fairest Norway hawk.”
“Thou art a fool, Adam,” said the page, “and I care not a button about
the girl or her ankles--But, what the foul fiend, one must look at
something!”
“Very true, Master Roland Graeme,” said his guide, “but let me pray you
to choose your objects better. Look you, there is scarce a woman walks
this High-gate with a silk screen or a pearlin muffler, but, as I said
before, she has either gentleman-usher before her, or kinsman, or lover,
or husband, at her elbow, or it may be a brace of stout fellows with
sword and buckler, not so far behind but what they can follow close--But
you heed me no more than a goss-hawk minds a yellow yoldring.”
“O yes, I do--I do mind you indeed,” said Roland Graeme; “but hold my
nag a bit--I will be with you in the exchange of a whistle.” So saying,
and ere Adam Woodcock could finish the sermon which was dying on his
tongue, Roland Graeme, to the falconer's utter astonishment, threw him
the bridle of his jennet, jumped off horseback, and pursued down one of
the closes or narrow lanes, which, opening under a vault, terminate upon
the main-street, the very maiden to whom his friend had accused him of
showing so much attention, and who had turned down the pass in question.
“Saint Mary, Saint Magdalen, Saint Benedict, Saint Barnabas!” said the
poor falconer, when he found himself thus suddenly brought to a pause
in the midst of the Canongate, and saw his young charge start off like a
madman in quest of a damsel whom he had never, as Adam supposed, seen in
his life before,--“Saint Satan and Saint Beelzebub--for this would
make one swear saint and devil--what can have come over the lad, with
a wanion! And what shall I do the whilst!--he will have his throat cut,
the poor lad, as sure as I was born at the foot of Roseberry-Topping.
Could I find some one to hold the horses! but they are as sharp here
north-away as in canny Yorkshire herself, and quit bridle, quit titt,
as we say. An I could but see one of our folks now, a holly-sprig were
worth a gold tassel; or could I but see one of the Regent's men--but to
leave the horses to a stranger, that I cannot--and to leave the place
while the lad is in jeopardy, that I wonot.”
We must leave the falconer, however, in the midst of his distress, and
follow the hot-headed youth who was the cause of his perplexity.
The latter part of Adam Woodcock's sage remonstrance had been in a great
measure lost upon Roland, for whose benefit it was intended; because,
in one of the female forms which tripped along the street, muffled in
a veil of striped silk, like the women of Brussels at this day, his eye
had discerned something which closely resembled the exquisite shape and
spirited bearing of Catherine Seyton.--During all the grave advice which
the falconer was dinning in his ears, his eye continued intent upon so
interesting an object of observation; and at length, as the damsel, just
about to dive under one of the arched passages which afforded an outlet
to the Canongate from the houses beneath, (a passage, graced by a
projecting shield of arms, supported by two huge foxes of stone,) had
lifted her veil for the purpose perhaps of descrying who the horseman
was who for some time had eyed her so closely, young Roland saw, under
the shade of the silken plaid, enough of the bright azure eyes, fair
locks, and blithe features, to induce him, like an inexperienced
and rash madcap, whose wilful ways never had been traversed by
contradiction, nor much subjected to consideration, to throw the bridle
of his horse into Adam Woodcock's hand, and leave him to play the
waiting gentleman, while he dashed down the paved court after Catherine
Seyton--all as aforesaid.
Women's wits are proverbially quick, but apparently those of Catherine
suggested no better expedient than fairly to betake herself to speed of
foot, in hopes of baffling the page's vivacity, by getting safely lodged
before he could discover where. But a youth of eighteen, in pursuit of
a mistress, is not so easily outstripped. Catherine fled across a
paved court, decorated with large formal vases of stone, in which yews,
cypresses, and other evergreens, vegetated in sombre sullenness, and
gave a correspondent degree of solemnity to the high and heavy building
in front of which they were placed as ornaments, aspiring towards a
square portion of the blue hemisphere, corresponding exactly in extent
to the quadrangle in which they were stationed, and all around which
rose huge black walls, exhibiting windows in rows of five stories, with
heavy architraves over each, bearing armorial and religious devices.
Through this court Catherine Seyton flashed like a hunted doe, making
the best use of those pretty legs which had attracted the commendation
even of the reflective and cautious Adam Woodcock. She hastened towards
a large door in the centre of the lower front of the court, pulled the
bobbin till the latch flew up, and ensconced herself in the ancient
mansion. But, if she fled like a doe, Roland Graeme followed with the
speed and ardour of a youthful stag-hound, loosed for the first time
on his prey. He kept her in view in spite of her efforts; for it is
remarkable what an advantage, in such a race, the gallant who desires to
see, possesses over the maiden who wishes not to be seen--an advantage
which I have known counterbalance a great start in point of distance.
In short, he saw the waving of her screen, or veil, at one corner, heard
the tap of her foot, light as that was, as it crossed the court, and
caught a glimpse of her figure just as she entered the door of the
mansion.
Roland Graeme, inconsiderate and headlong as we have described him,
having no knowledge of real life but from the romances which he had
read, and not an idea of checking himself in the midst of any eager
impulse; possessed, besides, of much courage and readiness, never
hesitated for a moment to approach the door through which the object of
his search had disappeared. He, too, pulled the bobbin, and the latch,
though heavy and massive, answered to the summons, and arose. The
page entered with the same precipitation which had marked his whole
proceeding, and found himself in a large hall, or vestibule, dimly
enlightened by latticed casements of painted glass, and rendered yet
dimmer through the exclusion of the sunbeams, owing to the height of the
walls of those buildings by which the court-yard was enclosed. The walls
of the hall were surrounded with suits of ancient and rusted armour,
interchanged with huge and massive stone scutcheons, bearing double
tressures, fleured and counter-fleured, wheat-sheaves, coronets, and so
forth, things to which Roland Graeme gave not a moment's attention.
In fact, he only deigned to observe the figure of Catherine Seyton, who,
deeming herself safe in the hall, had stopped to take breath after her
course, and was reposing herself for a moment on a large oaken settle
which stood at the upper end of the hall. The noise of Roland's entrance
at once disturbed her; she started up with a faint scream of surprise,
and escaped through one of the several folding-doors which opened
into this apartment as a common centre. This door, which Roland Graeme
instantly approached, opened on a large and well-lighted gallery, at the
upper end of which he could hear several voices, and the noise of hasty
steps approaching towards the hall or vestibule. A little recalled to
sober thought by an appearance of serious danger, he was deliberating
whether he should stand fast or retire, when Catherine Seyton re-entered
from a side door, running towards him with as much speed as a few
minutes since she had fled from him.
“Oh, what mischief brought you hither?” she said; “fly--fly, or you are
a dead man,--or stay--they come--flight is impossible--say you came to
ask for Lord Seyton.”
She sprung from him and disappeared through the door by which she had
made her second appearance; and, at the same instant, a pair of large
folding-doors at the upper end of the gallery flew open with vehemence,
and six or seven young gentlemen, richly dressed, pressed forward into
the apartment, having, for the greater part, their swords drawn.
“Who is it,” said one, “dare intrude on us in our own mansion?”
“Cut him to pieces,” said another; “let him pay for this day's insolence
and violence--he is some follower of the Rothes.”
“No, by Saint Mary,” said another; “he is a follower of the arch-fiend
and ennobled clown Halbert Glendinning, who takes the style of
Avenel--once a church-vassal, now a pillager of the church.”
“It is so,” said a fourth; “I know him by the holly-sprig, which is
their cognizance. Secure the door, he must answer for this insolence.”
Two of the gallants, hastily drawing their weapons, passed on to the
door by which Roland had entered the hall, and stationed themselves
there as if to prevent his escape. The others advanced on Graeme, who
had just sense enough to perceive that any attempt at resistance would
be alike fruitless and imprudent. At once, and by various voices, none
of which sounded amicably, the page was required to say who he was,
whence he came, his name, his errand, and who sent him hither. The
number of the questions demanded of him at once, afforded a momentary
apology for his remaining silent, and ere that brief truce had elapsed,
a personage entered the hall, at whose appearance those who had gathered
fiercely around Roland, fell back with respect.
This was a tall man, whose dark hair was already grizzled, though his
high and haughty features retained all the animation of youth. The upper
part of his person was undressed to his Holland shirt, whose ample folds
were stained with blood. But he wore a mantle of crimson, lined with
rich fur, cast around him, which supplied the deficiency of his dress.
On his head he had a crimson velvet bonnet, looped up on one side with
a small golden chain of many links, which, going thrice around the hat,
was fastened by a medal, agreeable to the fashion amongst the grandees
of the time.
“Whom have you here, sons and kinsmen,” said he, “around whom you crowd
thus roughly?--Know you not that the shelter of this roof should secure
every one fair treatment, who shall come hither either in fair peace, or
in open and manly hostility?”
“But here, my lord,” answered one of the youths, “is a knave who comes
on treacherous espial!”
“I deny the charge!” said Roland Graeme, boldly, “I came to inquire
after my Lord Seyton.”
“A likely tale,” answered his accusers, “in the mouth of a follower of
Glendinning.”
“Stay, young men,” said the Lord Seyton, for it was that nobleman
himself, “let me look at this youth--By heaven, it is the very same who
came so boldly to my side not very many minutes since, when some of my
own knaves bore themselves with more respect to their own worshipful
safety than to mine! Stand back from him, for he well deserves honour
and a friendly welcome at your hands, instead of this rough treatment.”
They fell back on all sides, obedient to Lord Seyton's commands, who,
taking Roland Graeme by the hand, thanked him for his prompt and gallant
assistance, adding, that he nothing doubted, “the same interest which
he had taken in his cause in the affray, brought him hither to inquire
after his hurt.”
Roland bowed low in acquiescence.
“Or is there any thing in which I can serve you, to show my sense of
your ready gallantry?”
But the page, thinking it best to abide by the apology for his visit
which the Lord Seyton had so aptly himself suggested, replied, “that
to be assured of his lordship's safety, had been the only cause of his
intrusion. He judged,” he added, “he had seen him receive some hurt in
the affray.”
“A trifle,” said Lord Seyton; “I had but stripped my doublet, that the
chirurgeon might put some dressing on the paltry scratch, when these
rash boys interrupted us with their clamour.”
Roland Graeme, making a low obeisance, was now about to depart, for,
relieved from the danger of being treated as a spy, he began next to
fear, that his companion, Adam Woodcock, whom he had so unceremoniously
quitted, would either bring him into some farther dilemma, by venturing
into the hotel in quest of him, or ride off and leave him behind
altogether. But Lord Seyton did not permit him to escape so easily.
“Tarry,” he said, “young man, and let me know thy rank and name. The
Seyton has of late been more wont to see friends and followers shrink
from his side, than to receive aid from strangers-but a new world
may come around, in which he may have the chance of rewarding his
well-wishers.”
“My name is Roland Graeme, my lord,” answered the youth, “a page, who,
for the present, is in the service of Sir Halbert Glendinning.”
“I said so from the first,” said one of the young men; “my life I will
wager, that this is a shaft out of the heretic's quiver-a stratagem from
first to last, to injeer into your confidence some espial of his own.
They know how to teach both boys and women to play the intelligencers.”
“That is false, if it be spoken of me,” said Roland; “no man in Scotland
should teach me such a foul part!”
“I believe thee, boy,” said Lord Seyton, “for thy strokes were too fair
to be dealt upon an understanding with those that were to receive them.
Credit me, however, I little expected to have help at need from one of
your master's household; and I would know what moved thee in my quarrel,
to thine own endangering?”
“So please you, my lord,” said Roland, “I think my master himself would
not have stood by, and seen an honourable man borne to earth by odds,
if his single arm could help him. Such, at least, is the lesson we were
taught in chivalry, at the Castle of Avenel.”
“The good seed hath fallen into good ground, young man,” said Seyton;
“but, alas! if thou practise such honourable war in these dishonourable
days, when right is every where borne down by mastery, thy life, my poor
boy, will be but a short one.”
“Let it be short, so it be honourable,” said Roland Graeme; “and permit
me now, my lord, to commend me to your grace, and to take my leave. A
comrade waits with my horse in the street.”
“Take this, however, young man,” said Lord Seyton,
[Footnote: George, fifth Lord Seton, was immovably faithful to Queen
Mary during all the mutabilities of her fortune. He was grand master of
the household, in which capacity he had a picture painted of himself,
with his official baton, and the following motto:
In adversitate, patiens;
In prosperitate, benevolus.
Hazard, yet forward.
On various parts of his castle he inscribed, as expressing his religious
and political creed, the legend:
Un Dieu, un Foy, un Roy, un Loy.