FATHER AND SON.
"Don Alfonso! Don Alfonso!
Thou art heir unto this throne;
None thy right would wish to question,
None thy sovereignty disown.
But the people sore suspect thee,
That by thee this crime was done."--The Cid.
Two days had elapsed since the prince's last visit to Margaret
Drummond, and her father's discovery of a union which, ambitious as
he was, had been altogether above his dearest hopes, and beyond his
most daring schemes: and true to his plan of having it regularly
announced to the nation by the voice of a new chancellor, when the
Parliament assembled in the capital, he did not breathe a syllable of
the important secret even to his most faithful friends or followers,
or to his daughters, Euphemia and Sybilla, who were sorely puzzled to
find that the two young Lords Home and Hailes were likely to become
constant visitors at their house; that in two days each of these
nobles had paid them four visits, and that beautiful hawks, with
scarlet hoods and silver bells, had been presented to them; that
elaborate little cases, containing gloves of Blois trimmed with
miniver and perfumed to excess, Turkish fans edged with swansdown,
and Cordovan slippers beautifully embroidered with gold and
seed-pearls, had come to them, they knew not from whence; and that
the sudden admiration and regard expressed by their father for these
two border lords was unbounded, while he seemed to be ever in the
best of humours with himself and with every one else; and guessing
wide of the truth, because such thoughts were farthest from their own
hearts, the timid girls believed and dreaded that this sudden and
unwonted friendship was but the sure forerunner of some desperate
raid against the courtiers of the king.
During these two days Rothesay, with Lord Lindesay, Sir Patrick Gray
of Kyneff, Sir William Stirling of Keir, and others, had been hunting
on Montrose's estates near the Braes of Angus; consequently, when he
returned, on the morning of the third day, he knew nothing of the
storm then gathering at court, where Lord Drummond had imparted to
the king the secret he had discovered.
Laying aside his hunting costume of green cloth, Rothesay was
equipped by his pages in his favourite gala dress, which was blue
velvet, slashed with cloth-of-gold, and tied by aiguilettes and three
hundred little trefoils of gold; for he had now resolved to pay
openly a visit to Lord Drummond's family. The last point of his
elaborate costume had just been trussed, when John Ramsay, Lord of
Bothwell, the young captain of the Royal Guard, appeared, and said
that the king required his presence in his private cabinet.
With an unpleasant foreboding of what was to follow, and with a
beating heart and flushing brow, the young prince hurried to the
presence of his father, whom he found seated in a little wainscoted
room, the windows of which faced the sunlit Tay and the opposite
coast, where the rich corn-fields of Fife lay ripening and basking in
the noonday sun, and where the waving woods of Balmerino,
Monkquhannie, and the Peak of Craigsanquhar blended the golden grain
with emerald green. The ceiling of this apartment was profusely
decorated with coats of arms and gaudy ornaments; the floor was of
oak, polished and varnished. Books, globes, musical instruments,
hunting-whips, handsome swords and ivory bugles, were strewn about
the chairs and side tables; but the principal object was a grotesque
and venerable buffet, which had belonged (as tradition said) to Saint
Margaret, and thereon were placed six ancient silver goblets, which
had belonged to King Robert I.; and above them hung the shirt of mail
worn by him at the Battle of Bannockburn; seven valuable relics
treasured by James III. with peculiar care, and which, long after his
death, were preserved in the Castle of Edinburgh.
The king was clad in a plain dressing-gown of green silk, the open
breast and loose sleeves of which displayed his rich shirt, with its
diamond buttons; his vest and hose were of grey velvet, and his boots
of soft white leather, with scarlet heels. A great ruby ring was on
one of his fingers, and Father Zuill's pedantic _Treatise on
Burning-glasses_ lay open beside him.
By the aspect of severity which clouded the usually open and kind
face of his father, Rothesay perceived in a moment that his secret
was known to him. Reclining back in his arm-chair, with a hand
resting on each of the carved arms, James III. gazed with calm but
stern eyes on the young prince, and said.--
"Shame on thee, Rothesay, for thou hast deceived me, who have ever
trusted and yet love thee so well! But worse than that, thou hast
deceived the people thou mayst one day govern. Alas! the Lord
Drummond has told me all."
"I did indeed deceive you--but how was I to act? The intrigues of
England, my successive betrothal to two princesses of that nation, my
relationship to Margaret Drummond through our ancestress Queen
Annabella, and the necessity for a public dispensation, must all
plead my excuse for her; for myself I make none; upbraid me as you
may, I feel that I deserve reproach for deceiving those who loved me,
but not more than Margaret Drummond."
Rothesay gathered a courage, as it were, from desperation; and aware
how much the happiness of the future depended on the effect produced
at this first interview on the subject, he endeavoured to rally all
his presence of mind.
"This John Drummond," said the king, bitterly, "when only Laird of
Stobhall and that ilk, was a good man and true; but in the same evil
hour when I created John Hay, Lord of Zester, Robert Crichton, Lord
of Sauquhar, and John de Carlyle, Lord of Torthorwald, I placed a
coronet on his head, and immediately his heart became infected by the
ambition, corruption, and falsehood which make the peers of Scotland
a curse to the nation and to us. I could read the inmost thoughts of
that old man's hollow heart, when smiling he stood before me, and
told how the crown prince of Scotland had in secret wedded his
daughter; and while affecting to reprehend such secrecy and
disobedience in proper terms of severity, he could but ill conceal
the joy with which he contemplated a second daughter of his house
sharing the honours of an imperial crown."
"The Lord Drummond," urged the prince, "is the most faithful of your
majesty's subjects, and his forefathers have all been true to their
country; one fought by Bruce's side at Bannockburn, and destroyed the
English horse by the Calthrops, with which he strewed the field;
another was slain at the battle of Durham; a third took Piercy
prisoner at Otterburn; and the present lord is a venerable and
upright noble."
"Do not deceive yourself," replied James, still more bitterly; "grey
hairs do not indicate a wise head or honest heart, any more than
bright armour indicates a valiant soldier; besides, I ever think
meanly of him whose sole merits are based on those of a dead
ancestry. Drummond will prove true to the innate principles of that
high-born but hollow-hearted class who are at all times ready to
betray their country. But listen to me, Rothesay," continued James
impressively, "the public duty and the common weal, your own honour
and justice to the nation, to say nothing of simple prudence, require
that you must conquer this most unfortunate attachment, and repudiate
this irregular marriage, which the Church can and _shall_ dissolve;
till when, I require you to see no more the too willing and too
artful daughter of this ambitious and designing lord."
Rothesay was thunderstruck by these words. "This severity will
distract me!" said he, clasping his hands,--for he loved and revered
his royal father with a love and reverence that were never surpassed;
"my dearest--my unfortunate Margaret! Thou too willing--thou too
artful? Alas, you know her not! A sweeter nature, a fonder heart, a
purer or a nobler love than hers, never warmed a human breast! It is
I who have been criminal. It is I who have been false, artful, and
beguiling; and most justly to me she looks for reparation,
vindication, and redress. She is my wife--wedded in the Cathedral of
Dunblane--wedded solemnly before God and man, and is Margaret Duchess
of Rothesay, Countess of Carrick, and Lady of Renfrew."
"Prince! prince!" urged the gentle king, overcome by the fiery energy
of his son, "remember that these Drummonds are only Barons of
Stobhall."
"Father," retorted the proud young prince, "do you forget that we
Stuarts were _once_ but thanes of Strathyryffe?"
"I do not," said the king, rising; "and by that proud memory command
you to renounce this woman!"
"Impossible! mortal man may not now put us asunder."
James III. grew pale with anger.
"If, like King Duncan, thou hadst openly wedded the miller of
Forteviot's daughter, I could have forgiven it; but the secrecy, the
deceit of thee, and of this Lord Drummond, whose friend and
benefactor I have been, sting me to the soul. He has but wiled and
intrigued with thee, that his daughter may be a queen, and I
dethroned, even perhaps before my wretched days are numbered. Now my
own son conspires against me!" added the king, wildly, as he covered
his face with his hands; "for I have fallen on evil times. Ah! woe
is me!"
"I beseech your majesty to pardon me!" said Rothesay, who was crushed
for a moment by the grief and bitterness of his father.
"Promise me, first, the renunciation of this artful woman!" said the
king, looking up, imploringly.
"Rather than conceive a thought so base, I will take my sword, and,
renouncing the Scottish crown in favour of my little brother the Duke
of Ross, or even of the exiled son of my uncle Albany and Anne of
Auvergne, I will enter the service of Charles VIII. to fight against
the Breton lords, or of Ferdinand the Catholic, to fight the Spanish
Moors; I will go wherever my sword can find me bread, and leave this
land for ever!"
James III. grew pale again, for he knew well the rashness of which
Rothesay was capable.
"Another menace such as this," said he, snatching up a silver whistle
which lay on the table, "and I will send thee under guard to the
Tower of Lochmaben or the Castle of Inverlochie. Inconsiderate boy,
this rash espousal is every way illegal, for ye are both related
within the third and forbidden degree of blood!"
"The Lord Bishop of Dunblane----"
"He has been captured on the seas by English pirates."
"Alas! I know, but he was bringing our dispensation from Rome."
"Ho! what is this thou tellest me? A dispensation! Could Henry VII.
know of it? Impossible; yet why seize the poor bishop and destroy
his papers." James bit his lip, and, smiling disdainfully, added,
"This wily Tudor toils hard to have his daughter wedded to a
Stuart--but Barton's bones are yet unburied, and his kinsmen will yet
avenge his death. But do, dear Rothesay, pause, for it seems that
this frantic love hath bewitched thee."
"I have no reason to blush for it. Have not the bravest soldiers,
the wisest philosophers--yea, the most virtuous saints--been
vanquished by its power? Think over it calmly, my dearest king and
father, and say, wouldst thou have me to deceive one who has trusted
to me, and whose love for me is not second even to thine."
"No, on my soul, I would not have thee to deceive her; but oh,
Rothesay, I would rather have lost ten lowland earldoms than the hope
of such an alliance for thee as Charles VIII. of France or Catharine
of Navarre could have offered, if this one with England failed. But
leave me now," added the good and indulgent king; "a time may come
when I shall forgive you, but not just now."
The young prince's heart danced with joy; tears started into his fine
hazel eyes, as, with a burst of affection, he kissed the proffered
hand of his father, and hurried away to visit Lord Drummond's house,
while James prepared for that daily council or levee which was one of
the tasks our sovereigns had to undergo during their annual
progresses through the kingdom.
Leaving the Palace of St. Margaret by the principal entrance in the
Nethergaitt, the happy prince, without any followers or attendants,
hurried along the crowded and sunny street, and turned to the right,
down the quaint old wynd of St. Clement, where he was suddenly met by
Lord Drummond, who was coming up hurriedly, and followed by his
constant attendants the Lairds of Carnock and Balloch.
"Your servant, my dear lord," said Rothesay, uncovering; "you are
abroad betimes this morning."
"Prince, thou hast wronged and deceived me most foully!" said the
stern noble, in a voice rendered hoarse by passion, as he unsheathed
his long sword; "I am an old man, but beware, for not even a prince
of the blood shall insult me. My daughter Margaret--where is she?"
"Where?" reiterated the prince, with confusion and alarm,
"Yea, where--speak, speak!"
"Is she not at home with you, my lord?"
"With me--no! All last night her chamber has been vacant, her bed
unslept in; the window of her turret was found open; the tables
overturned, the hangings torn; her babe half dead by cold; a rope
ladder dangling--yea, it dangles yet--from the window that faces
Fish-street. My daughter is gone, none know whither, and her poor
babe mourns and whines for her in vain. Prince, by this abduction
thou hast doubly disgraced and insulted me. Say, where is my
daughter--this best beloved of five?--say, say, lest my too just
indignation turn this sword against thee--prince royal though ye be!"
"My lord," said the prince, clasping his hands, "I swear by all my
hope in Heaven's mercy, by that blessed altar before which I received
her hand, and where I gave my solemn troth, that I know not where she
is; but will spend the last drop of my blood to discover and to save
her."
"Go to!" said the enraged father, hoarsely; "dost think I will
believe all this? 'Sdeath, he who deceives me once may readily do so
again. But I will have vengeance sure for it. Every man in
Strathearne shall be in his helmet ere the morrow's sun sets, and I
will nail my gauntlet on your father's palace-gate, in token of what
a Scottish peer may do."
On hearing this threat, the two Drummonds, who shared all the
indignation of their chief, twisted their shaggy mustachios, and
played with the hilts of their long iron-hilted swords, in their
fiery impatience.
"I am as little accustomed to deceive, my lord, as I am to be
disbelieved or misunderstood," replied the prince; "and again I swear
to you, by all we hold most sacred, that I have spoken to the verity,
and the verity alone. My Margaret----"
"Behold the only trace of her," said Lord Drummond, as he roughly
grasped Rothesay's hand, and drew him a few paces down the wynd, to
where they could see the north-east tower of his mansion. There
Rothesay's eye first caught sight of Margaret's well-known window.
It was open: the fragments of a rope-ladder were yet streaming out
upon the wind, and various passengers were grouped in the street
below, conferring and surmising, with upturned faces, on what had
happened there overnight. On beholding these ocular proofs of some
terrible catastrophe, the prince lost alike his patience and presence
of mind. He unsheathed his sword, and exclaimed,
"We have been discovered and betrayed!"
"Thank God, this emotion seems genuine!" said Drummond, as he leaned
on his long weapon, and grimly scrutinized the prince; "betrayed,
sayst thou? but by whom, dost thou think?"
"By some of my father's favourites."
"Right! by the hand of St. Fillan, I thought these varlets had
something to do with this outrage. Can the king know it, think ye?"
asked Drummond, with a terrible glare in his eyes, as he turned to
his kinsmen, Balloch and Carnock, who both drew their swords, as if
by instinctive use and wont.
"Alas, I said not _that_," replied Rothesay, giving way to tears;
"but my mind is a chaos--I can no longer think."
"'Sblood--act, then!"
"How now, my lord--your highness--gentlemen, what is astir?" asked
Sir Patrick Gray, stepping out of a daggermaker's shop at that
moment; "beware, sirs--and up with your swords; remember that it is
an act of treason to draw within four miles of the king or the lord
high constable, and both are now in our burgh of bonnie Dundee."
"Damn the constable, and the burgh of Dundee to boot! My daughter
Margaret has been carried off by violence; there hath been hership
and hamesücken overnight, Sir Patrick, and as a knight and gentleman,
and moreover as the king's good soldier, I claim your assistance."
"Carried off!--the beautiful Margaret!" exclaimed Gray, with
well-feigned astonishment; "by St. Mirran! there hath been foul play,
then; for alas, my lord, as last night I rode along the beach to
Broughty, I heard shrill cries, as from a woman on the water."
"Kyrie Eleison!" ejaculated the prince, trembling, and growing paler
than death, at the terrible thoughts this information suggested, and
he wept aloud.
"Some of James's courtly minions----" began Gray.
"Have been at work here," interrupted Lord Drummond, passionately;
"thinkest thou so, too? Then the king shall do me justice, or this
right hand, which has so often fenced his father's throne, shall be
the first to thrust a lighted torch under it now. Come with me,
sirs," he added, hurling his long sword into its sheath of crimson
velvet; "come with me, the king is now in council."
As they hurried up the wynd, taking the bewildered Rothesay with
them, they heard the clatter of many hoofs, and saw the Earl of
Angus, sheathed in complete armour, and attended by not less than
five hundred spearmen on horseback, all heavily accoutred, pass at a
hard gallop along the Nethergaitt, towards the king's residence.
"Now, what may this portend?" asked Carnock and Ballock together,
with surprise.
"Heaven only knows," said Gray, laughing under his thick beard; "but
the Douglasses never mount without good cause, be assured, sirs. How
this plot thickens," thought he, as he looked towards the dim blue
sea; "and how readily this muleheaded old lord, who hath no ideas of
his own, adopts the good or evil suggestions of other. Now, Sauchie
and I have them all, like puppets, in our grasp! But I would fain
see the mouth of yonder fellow, Borthwick, stopped with earth for
ever!"
At that moment they entered the palace door, and followed Lord Angus
straight to the presence of the king.