Roland Avenel, we have joyful news for you--our loving sister's officer
proffers us, in her name, a safe asylum from the rebels who have driven
us from our home--only it grieves me we must here part from you for a
short space.”
“Part from us, madam!” said the Abbot. “Is your welcome in England,
then, to commence with the abridgment of your train, and dismissal of
your counsellors?”
“Take it not thus, good Father,” said Mary; “the Warden and the Sheriff,
faithful servants of our Royal Sister, deem it necessary to obey her
instructions in the present case, even to the letter, and can only
take upon them to admit me with my female attendants. An express will
instantly be despatched from London, assigning me a place of residence;
and I will speedily send to all of you whenever my Court shall be
formed.”
“Your Court formed in England! and while Elizabeth lives and reigns?”
said the Abbot--“that will be when we shall see two suns in one heaven!”
“Do not think so,” replied the Queen; “we are well assured of our
sister's good faith. Elizabeth loves fame--and not all that she has won
by her power and her wisdom will equal that which she will acquire by
extending her hospitality to a distressed sister!--not all that she may
hereafter do of good, wise, and great, would blot out the reproach of
abusing our confidence.--Farewell, my page--now my knight--farewell for
a brief season. I will dry the tears of Catherine, or I will weep with
her till neither of us can weep longer.”--She held out her hand to
Roland, who flinging himself on his knees, kissed it with much emotion.
He was about to render the same homage to Catherine, when the Queen,
assuming an air of sprightliness, said, “Her lips, thou foolish boy!
and, Catherine, coy it not--these English gentlemen should see,
that, even in our cold clime, Beauty knows how to reward Bravery and
Fidelity!”
“We are not now to learn the force of Scottish beauty, or the mettle of
Scottish valour,” said the Sheriff of Cumberland, courteously--“I would
it were in my power to bid these attendants upon her who is herself
the mistress of Scottish beauty, as welcome to England as my poor cares
would make them. But our Queen's orders are positive in case of such an
emergence, and they must not be disputed by her subject.--May I remind
your Majesty that the tide ebbs fast?”
The Sheriff took the Queen's hand, and she had already placed her foot
on the gangway, by which she was to enter the skiff, when the Abbot,
starting from a trance of grief and astonishment at the words of the
Sheriff, rushed into the water, and seized upon her mantle.
“She foresaw it!--She foresaw it!”--he exclaimed--“she foresaw your
flight into her realm; and, foreseeing it, gave orders you should be
thus received. Blinded, deceived, doomed--Princess! your fate is sealed
when you quit this strand.--Queen of Scotland, thou shalt not leave
thine heritage!” he continued, holding a still firmer grasp upon her
mantle; “true men shall turn rebels to thy will, that they may save thee
from captivity or death. Fear not the bills and bows whom that gay man
has at his beck--we will withstand him by force. Oh, for the arm of my
warlike brother!--Roland Avenel, draw thy sword.”
The Queen stood irresolute and frightened; one foot upon the plank, the
other on the sand of her native shore, which she was quitting for ever.
“What needs this violence, Sir Priest?” said the Sheriff of Cumberland;
“I came hither at your Queen's command, to do her service; and I will
depart at her least order, if she rejects such aid as I can offer. No
marvel is it if our Queen's wisdom foresaw that such chance as this
might happen amidst the turmoils of your unsettled State; and, while
willing to afford fair hospitality to her Royal Sister, deemed it wise
to prohibit the entrance of a broken army of her followers into the
English frontier.”
“You hear,” said Queen Mary, gently unloosing her robe from the Abbot's
grasp, “that we exercise full liberty of choice in leaving this shore;
and, questionless, the choice will remain free to us in going to France,
or returning to our own dominions, as we shall determine--Besides, it is
too late--Your blessing, Father, and God speed thee!”
“May He have mercy on thee, Princess, and speed thee also!” said the
Abbot, retreating. “But my soul tells me I look on thee for the last
time!” The sails were hoisted, the oars were plied, the vessel went
freshly on her way through the firth, which divides the shores of
Cumberland from those of Galloway; but not till the vessel diminished
to the size of a child's frigate, did the doubtful, and dejected, and
dismissed followers of the Queen cease to linger on the sands; and
long, long could they discern the kerchief of Mary, as she waved the
oft-repeated signal of adieu to her faithful adherents, and to the
shores of Scotland.
If good tidings of a private nature could have consoled Roland for
parting with his mistress, and for the distresses of his sovereign,
he received such comfort some days subsequent to the Queen's leaving
Dundrennan. A breathless post--no other than Adam Woodcock--brought
despatches from Sir Halbert Glendinning to the Abbot, whom he found with
Roland, still residing at Dundrennan, and in vain torturing Boniface
with fresh interrogations. The packet bore an earnest invitation to his
brother to make Avenel Castle for a time his residence. “The clemency of
the Regent,” said the writer, “has extended pardon both to Roland and
to you, upon condition of your remaining a time under my wardship. And
I have that to communicate respecting the parentage of Roland, which
not only you will willingly listen to, but which will be also found to
afford me, as the husband of his nearest relative, some interest in the
future course of his life.”
The Abbot read this letter, and paused, as if considering what were best
for him to do. Meanwhile, Woodcock took Roland side, and addressed him
as follows:--“Now, look, Mr. Roland, that you do not let any papestrie
nonsense lure either the priest or you from the right quarry. See you,
you ever bore yourself as a bit of a gentleman. Read that, and thank
God that threw old Abbot Boniface in our way, as two of the Seyton's
men were conveying him towards Dundrennan here.--We searched him for
intelligence concerning that fair exploit of yours at Lochleven, that
has cost many a man his life, and me a set of sore bones--and we found
what is better for your purpose than ours.”
The paper which he gave, was, indeed, an attestation by Father Philip,
subscribing himself unworthy Sacristan, and brother of the House of
Saint Mary's, stating, “that under a vow of secrecy he had united, in
the holy sacrament of marriage, Julian Avenel and Catherine Graeme; but
that Julian having repented of his union, he, Father Philip, had been
sinfully prevailed on by him to conceal and disguise the same, according
to a complot devised betwixt him and the said Julian Avenel, whereby the
poor damsel was induced to believe that the ceremony had been performed
by one not in holy orders, and having no authority to that effect. Which
sinful concealment the undersigned conceived to be the cause why he was
abandoned to the misguiding of a water-fiend, whereby he had been under
a spell, which obliged him to answer every question, even touching the
most solemn matters, with idle snatches of old songs, besides being
sorely afflicted with rheumatic pains ever after. Wherefore he had
deposited this testificate and confession with the day and date of the
said marriage, with his lawful superior Boniface, Abbot of Saint Mary's,
_sub sigillo confessionis_.”
It appeared by a letter from Julian, folded carefully up with the
certificate, that the Abbot Boniface had, in effect, bestirred himself
in the affair, and obtained from the Baron a promise to avow his
marriage; but the death of both Julian and his injured bride, together
with the Abbot's resignation, his ignorance of the fate of their unhappy
offspring, and above all, the good father's listless and inactive
disposition, had suffered the matter to become totally forgotten, until
it was recalled by some accidental conversation with the Abbot Ambrosius
concerning the fortunes of the Avenel family. At the request of his
successor, the quondam Abbot made search for it; but as he would receive
no assistance in looking among the few records of spiritual experiences
and important confessions, which he had conscientiously treasured,
it might have remained for ever hidden amongst them, but for the more
active researches of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
“So that you are like to be heir of Avenel at last, Master Roland, after
my lord and lady have gone to their place,” said Adam; “and as I have
but one boon to ask, I trust you will not nick me with nay.”
“Not if it be in my power to say yes, my trusty friend.”
“Why then, I must needs, if I live to see that day, keep on feeding the
eyases with unwashed flesh,” said Woodcock sturdily, as if doubting the
reception that his request might meet with.
“Thou shalt feed them with what you list for me,” said Roland, laughing;
“I am not many months older than when I left the Castle, but I trust I
have gathered wit enough to cross no man of skill in his own vocation.”
“Then I would not change places with the King's falconer,” said Adam
Woodcock, “nor with the Queen's neither--but they say she will be mewed
up and never need one.--I see it grieves you to think of it, and I could
grieve for company; but what help for it?--Fortune will fly her own
flight, let a man hollo himself hoarse.”
The Abbot and Roland journeyed to Avenel, where the former was tenderly
received by his brother, while the lady wept for joy to find that in her
favourite orphan she had protected the sole surviving branch of her
own family. Sir Halbert Glendinning and his household were not a little
surprised at the change which a brief acquaintance with the world had
produced in their former inmate, and rejoiced to find, in the pettish,
spoiled, and presuming page, a modest and unassuming young man, too
much acquainted with his own expectations and character, to be hot
or petulant in demanding the consideration which was readily and
voluntarily yielded to him. The old Major Domo Wingate was the first
to sing his praises, to which Mistress Lilias bore a loud echo, always
hoping that God would teach him the true gospel.
To the true gospel the heart of Roland had secretly long inclined, and
the departure of the good Abbot for France, with the purpose of
entering into some house of his order in that kingdom, removed his chief
objection to renouncing the Catholic faith. Another might have existed
in the duty which he owed to Magdalen Graeme, both by birth and from
gratitude. But he learned, ere he had been long a resident in Avenel,
that his grandmother had died at Cologne, in the performance of a
penance too severe for her age, which she had taken upon herself in
behalf of the Queen and Church of Scotland, as soon as she heard of the
defeat at Langside. The zeal of the Abbot Ambrosius was more regulated;
but he retired into the Scottish convent of------, and so lived there,
that the fraternity were inclined to claim for him the honours of
canonization. But he guessed their purpose, and prayed them, on his
death-bed, to do no honours to the body of one as sinful as themselves;
but to send his body and his heart to be buried in Avenel burial-aisle,
in the monastery of Saint Mary's, that the last Abbot of that celebrated
house of devotion might sleep among its ruins.
[Footnote: This was not the explanation of the incident of searching for
the heart, mentioned in the introduction to the tale, which the author
originally intended. It was designed to refer to the heart of Robert
Bruce. It is generally known that that great monarch, being on his
death-bed, bequeathed to the good Lord James of Douglas, the task of
carrying his heart to the Holy Land, to fulfil in a certain degree his
own desire to perform a crusade. Upon Douglas's death, fighting against
the Moors in Spain, a sort of military hors d'oeuvre to which he could
have pleaded no regular call of duty, his followers brought back the
Bruce's heart, and deposited it in the Abbey church of Melrose, the
Kennaquhair of the tale.
This Abbey has been always particularly favoured by the Bruce. We have
already seen his extreme anxiety that each of the reverend brethren
should be daily supplied with a service of boiled almonds, rice and
milk, pease, or the like, to be called the King's mess, and that without
the ordinary service of their table being either disturbed in quantity
or quality. But this was not the only mark of the benignity of good King
Robert towards the monks of Melrose, since, by a charter of the dale
29th May, 1326, he conferred on the Abbot of Melrose the sum of two
thousand pounds sterling, for rebuilding: the church of St. Mary's,
ruined by the English; and there is little or no doubt that the
principal part of the remains which now display such exquisite specimens
of Gothic architecture, at its very purest period, had their origin in
this munificent donation. The money was to be paid out of crown lands,
estates forfeited to the King, and other property or demesnes of the
crown.
A very curious letter written to his son about three weeks before his
death, has been pointed out to me by my friend Mr. Thomas Thomson,
Deputy-Register for Scotland. It enlarges so much on the love of the
royal writer to the community of Melrose, that it is well worthy of
being inserted in a work connected in some degree with Scottish History.
LITERA DOMINI REGIS ROBERTI AD FILIUM SUUM DAVID.
“Robertius dei gratia Rex Scottorum, David precordialissimo filio suo,
ac ceteris successoribus suis; Salutem, et sic ejus precepta tenere,
ut cum sua benedictione possint regnare. Fili carissime, digne censeri
videtur filius, qui, paternos in bonis mores imitans, piam ejus nititur
exequi voluntatem; nec proprie sibi sumit nomen heredis, qui salubribus
predecessoris affectibus non adherit: Cupientes igitur, ut piam
affectionem et scinceram delectionem, quam erga monasterium de Melros,
ubi cor nostrum ex speciali devotione disposuimus tumularidum, et erga
Religiosos ibidem Deo servientes, ipsorum vita sanctissima nos ad hoc
excitante, concepimus; Tu ceterique successores mei pia scinceritate
prosequarimi, ut, ex vestre dilectionis affectu dictis Religiosis nostri
causa post mortem nostrum ostenso, ipsi pro nobis ad orandum ferveucius
et forcius animentur: Vobis precipimus quantum possumus, instanter
supplicamus, et ex toto corde injungimus, Quatinus assignacionibus quas
eisdem yiris Religiosis et fabrica Ecclesie sue de novo fecimus ac eciam
omnibus aliis donacionibus nostris, ipsos libere gaudere permittatis,
Easdem potius si necesse fuerit augmentantes quam diminuentes, ipsorum
peticiones auribus benevolis admittentes, ac ipsos contra suos
invasores et emuios pia defensione protegentes. Hanc autem exhortacionem
supplicacionem et preceptum tu, fili ceterique successores nostri
prestanti animo complere curetis, si nostram benedictionem habere
velitis, una cum benedictione filii summi Regis, qui filios docuit
patrum voluntates in bono perficere, asserens in mundum se venisse non
ut suam voluntatem faceret sed paternam. In testimonium autem nostre
devotionis ergra locum predictum sic a nobis dilectum et electum
concepte, presentem literam Religiosis predictis dimittimus, nostris
successoribus in posterum ostendendam. Data apud Cardros, undecimo die
Maij, Anno Regni nostri vicesimo quarto.”
If this charter be altogether genuine, and there is no appearance of
forgery, it gives rise to a curious doubt in Scottish History. The
letter announces that the King had already destined his heart to be
deposited at Melrose. The resolution to send it to Palestine, under the
charge of Douglas, must have been adopted betwixt 11th May 1329, the
date of the letter, and 7th June of the same year, when the Bruce died;
or else we must suppose that the commission of Douglas extended not only
to taking the Bruce's heart to Palestine, but to bring it safe back to
its final place of deposit in the Abbey of Melrose.
It would not be worth inquiring: by what caprice the author was induced
to throw the incident of the Bruce's heart entirely out of the story,
save merely to say, that he found himself unable to fill up the canvass
he had sketched, and indisposed to prosecute the management of
the supernatural machinery with which his plan, when it was first
rough-hewn, was connected and combined.]
Long before that period arrived, Roland Avenel was wedded to Catherine
Seyton, who, after two years' residence with her unhappy mistress, was
dismissed upon her being subjected to closer restraint than had been at
first exercised. She returned to her father's house, and as Roland was
acknowledged for the successor and lawful heir of the ancient house of
Avenel, greatly increased as the estate was by the providence of Sir
Halbert Gleninning, there occurred no objections to the match on the
part of her family. Her mother was recently dead when she first entered
the convent; and her father, in the unsettled times which followed Queen
Mary's flight to England, was not averse to an alliance with a youth,
who, himself loyal to Queen Mary, still held some influence, through
means of Sir Halbert Glendinning, with the party in power.
Roland and Catherine, therefore, were united, spite of their differing
faiths; and the White Lady, whose apparition had been infrequent when
the house of Avenel seemed verging to extinction, was seen to sport by
her haunted well, with a zone of gold around her bosom as broad as the
baldrick of an Earl.
END OF THE ABBOT.