HOW BORTHWICK FULFILLED HIS PROMISE.
"My path was waylaid by a band
Of ruffians hired to kill;
They seized and tied me hand and foot
Though me they owed no ill.
"A dreary night and day I passed;
All hope was far removed;
I thought each hour would prove my last;
Yet Anna still I loved."--_The Druid_.
In fulfilment of his boast made in the Tower of Bronghty Borthwick
had fully examined "all the avenues" to the chamber of Lady Margaret
Drummond, preparatory and previous to her abduction. By inquiries
cunningly pursued among the domestics within, and by observations
made from without, he had discovered the exact locale of her
bed-chamber, and her hour for retiring, and now, being aware that the
prince was hunting in the Howe of Angus, he resolved to make the
attempt at once.
As yet there was no appearance of the Laird of Largo's dreaded ships
returning; but the evening of the appointed day closed darkly and
hazily in, and the three vessels of Captain Howard had been descried
by Sir Patrick Gray from the Craig of Bronghty, as they crept slowly
and stealthily in shore.
It was one of those evenings when the chill east wind brings a thick
_haar_, as the Scots name it, from the German Sea, when the moon
veils her head in the clouds, and a murky gloom envelopes everything.
It was one hour past Margaret's usual time for retiring, yet she was
not in bed. During the whole of that day and the day preceding, the
new joy which had replaced her usually sad and quiet demeanour, the
light that sparkled in her calm soft eyes, and the buoyancy of her
spirits, were remarked by her sisters; but they knew not that
Margaret was happy because her important secret was shared and
approved of by her father, who had ridden away to Dunblane,
accompanied by Carnock and Balloch, to examine the cathedral
registers, and assure himself that nothing was wanting but the Papal
dispensation to make all clear, on announcing to Parliament, when it
met in the metropolis, that his daughter was Duchess of Rothesay, and
the mother of a little princess who yet might wear that crown of
thorns which was the inheritance of the Stuarts.
The fact of a priest and bishop being cognizant of a marriage within
the degrees forbidden by the church, affords a strong proof that the
corruption and neglect by which that church was crumbling down in
Scotland were beginning a hundred years before the Reformation was
achieved by Knox and his followers.
Margaret was happy, too, because she would soon be able to impart to
her dear sisters, whom she loved so tenderly, the perilous secret,
which she was ever upbraiding herself for having withheld from them
so long; and she imagined how great would be the astonishment of
Euphemia and Sybilla when her baby would be shown to them, and the
joy of little Lizzie and Beatie finding themselves aunts to a real
live princess.
Wearied with long surmises and thoughtful reveries, and with fondling
her pretty little Margaret--for it had been named after herself and
the queen-mother--and with hushing those feeble cries which as yet
had never gone beyond the thick stone walls of the tapestried room,
nor been heard by any one save her faithful old nurse and constant
attendant, the beautiful young duchess had fallen asleep on her bed,
partly undressed, and with the babe nestling in her bosom. On the
inside her door was secured by those complicated bolts of wood and
iron with which all internal doors were then fastened in old Scottish
houses, but her window, which was in the round-tower at the
street-corner _still_ appears never to have possessed a grating.
Twelve tolled in the tower of the "Blessed Virgin-in-the-fields."
The mist was thicker, and the night darker than ever.
Margaret did not hear the sound of feet in the narrow street below,
for the lurkers there trod softly; neither did she hear their voices,
for they spoke in whispers; but there, masked, muffled, and disguised
as peasants, in broad round bonnets, frieze gaberdines, and deerskin
boots, were the governors of Stirling and Broughty, with _Sir_ Hew
Borthwick; other followers they had none, for this expedition was so
desperate and daring that they could trust none, even from among the
many well-chosen ruffians with whom the two chief traitors had
garrisoned the royal castles committed to their care.
Margaret did not hear the jarring of two long lances, tied together,
against the panes of glass, as by this means they affixed the iron
hooks of a rope ladder to the stone mouldings of the tower
window-sole, and then held it firm and steadily at the foot, while
Borthwick clambered to the casement, which (although it was
twenty-five feet from the ground) he reached with ease, and raising
the sash entered softly. He then stood within the apartment, with
two naked poniards in his belt, for defence, in case of surprise or
attack.
All appeared just as we have described it before--the rich little
couch, the carved _prie-Dieu_, the Venetian mirror, with its bottles
of rose-water, pots of essence and other appurtenances, and the thick
dark tapestry. The wax tapers in the silver girandoles on the
dressing-table were dimly burning and flickering, for the wicks were
long, and snuffers were not invented until the epoch of James IV.
Margaret lay on her couch, fast asleep, with one white arm extended
on her pillow, and the other round her infant, whose little head
reposed on a luxuriant mass of her thick brown hair, which had
escaped from that golden net or caul, then worn by the ladies of the
court, and was streaming over her pillow. The ribbon points of her
long boddice were partly untied, and on the dressing-table lay a
multitude of those skewers of gold and silver tags and clasps which
noble dames then used, before the simple invention of the _pin_,
which was first adopted by Catharine Howard, an English queen. The
rosy and dimpled hands of the infant, like its round and sleeping
face, were nestling in the bosom of its young and delicate mother.
It was a touching picture of perfect innocence and love reposing
together; but it affected not the sensual and cowardly heart of the
ignoble Borthwick, or of Sir Patrick Gray, whose black head, through
the mask of which his fierce and sinister eyes, that gleamed like two
evil stars, might have been seen peering over the window-sole into
the chamber of the sleeping girl. Something that glittered in the
mouth of this baronial bravo, a nearer inspection would have shown to
be a dagger, which he held between his teeth.
"Well, 'pon my soul, the prince's taste is not bad!" grumbled the
other ruffian (who was flushed with wine), as he contemplated the
beautiful girl, whose soft and regular breathing was the only sound
that broke the silence of the sanctuary on which he was intruding his
unhallowed presence. "A baby, too! Oho! now, whose brat may this
be?"
Margaret turned her noble head, parted her fine lips, and smiled
tenderly in her sleep.
Borthwick thought she was about to waken, and shrunk irresolutely
back; but the dreams of such innocence as hers are ever pleasing and
gentle, so the young girl still slept on.
"Donnart fool! why dost thou tarry?" asked Gray, in a hoarse whisper.
"Be quick!"
His voice half wakened Margaret, and she moved her head again, and a
sigh escaped her lips.
Borthwick drew from his breast one of those large and gaudy Dutch
cotton handkerchiefs which were then common in Scotland, and with
brutal energy tied it completely over the head of Margaret, and,
tightening it across her mouth, muffled and stifled any cry she might
have uttered; but the slightest sound was impossible, for sudden
terror deprived her of all power of thought or action. He then
raised her in his powerful arms, even as he would have done the
wakened infant, which now began to raise its plaintive little voice,
and which he shook roughly off, as it grasped its mother's thick soft
hair. He bore her to the window, and thrust her through it, upon the
right arm of Sir Patrick Gray, who grasped with his left hand the
rope ladder (which was firmly secured below by Sir James Shaw), and
which he descended in safety to the ground.
Borthwick sprang after them, but as Shaw lent his assistance to bear
off Margaret, the light ladder swayed about in the wind, which dashed
the growling and enraged conspirator against the rough wall like a
plummet; by this means it snapped, and he fell heavily to the ground,
but he hurried after the two barons, who were bearing Margaret down
to the beach, which was then within less than a pistol-shot of the
house.
As she had now freed her head from the muffler, she uttered a
succession of shrill and piercing cries; but none heard or attended
to them, for the stillness and darkness of midnight rested on the
mist-shrouded town and river. In that "good old time," when the
country-houses of the Scottish gentry were manned and moated
garrisons, or towers that were entered at an upper story by ladders,
which the careful inmates drew up after them; when their towns had
walls with barrier-portes, and their streets had neither lights nor
pavements, but when every window was grated, and every close and wynd
secured by a massive gate; when people carried lanterns at night, and
every one went armed to the teeth, as a security against every one
else--the clash of swords or the cries of fear and danger excited but
little interest. Thus, without suffering the least interruption, the
knightly ruffians and their accomplice reached the beach, where,
within a bowshot of the chapel of St. Nicholas, Captain Edmund
Howard, with a well-armed boat's-crew of picked English seamen,
awaited them in the yawl of the _Royal Harry_.
"Do not be alarmed, fair lady," said he, as Margaret was borne over
the chafing surf, and placed in the stern-sheets of the boat by a man
who grasped her with the tenacity of a vice, and who whispered
huskily and impiously in her ear.
"Be not afraid of me, lady, for I am innocent as the Paschal Lamb,
and as gentle to boot."
"By that blessed name," she implored, "I conjure you to tell me the
meaning of this? and who you are----"
"I am Sir Hew Borthwick, knight of an unfortunate ilk, but your most
devoted servitor, lady."
"O, heavenly mercy!" she murmured, on hearing that terrible name, and
believing that all her old forebodings were about to be realized,
immediately fainted, or became powerless, and had no longer any
capability of coherence in speech or thought.
"Devil be thanked--now we shall have no more trouble with her," said
Borthwick, as Captain Howard kindly spread his own velvet mantle over
her.
"Poor little thing," said he; "she has fallen among evil hands; but,
thank heaven, this dog's duty will soon be over. To-night she will
swing in her hammock, aboard the _Royal Harry_."
"And to-morrow may mingle her tears with the waters that bear her to
English Harry's prison," added Sir James Shaw, laughing.
"Hold water a moment, my lads," said the English captain, as he flung
a purse to Borthwick, who caught it as a hungry dog does a bone.
"Master Hew, this is the last largess of King Henry's I hope you will
ever receive from my hand."
"Thank you, Captain Howard--life is a race, and money the prize. In
this world we always scorn honest poverty and worship gilded crime."
"Philosophy in a cur's throat," muttered Howard. "Adieu, gentlemen;
when next I unfurl St. George's cross in these waters, I hope to do
it in fair daylight, when bringing to your shores a bright-eyed
English queen. And now give way, my hearties," he added, as the oars
were dipped into the water, and the boat was slewed round--"give way
for life!"
"Or death," said Borthwick, with a chuckling laugh, as he concealed
the heavy purse in his broad leathern girdle. "Farewell, sirs."
"Farewell," cried Howard, with one hand grasping the tiller and the
other placed at the side of his mouth to convey the sound--"and may
the great devil go with you for a rascally Scots pirate and ground
shark."
Margaret lay in a death-like faint, and this gallant English
gentleman, while commiserating her fate and cursing the secret duty
on which his subtle king had sent him, still urged his men to _give
way_, and at every stroke their fourteen oars almost lifted the light
boat out of the water. Howard raised the mantle repeatedly from the
pale face of his prisoner, and the soft beauty of her features served
every moment to increase the disgust he felt for himself and his
Scottish colleagues.
The tide was ebbing fast, and as the river was running like a
millrace, they soon reached the _Royal Harry_, which, with her
consorts, was abreast of Broughty Castle, laying to, with her fore
and mizen yards aback; but it was not until she was placed on one of
the cushioned lockers of the great cabin, where proper restoratives
were kindly and judiciously applied by two pretty young female
attendants whom Howard had brought for her from London, that poor
Margaret began to recover from her first shock of terror, and to
become aware of where she was.
With the wind right ahead, the _Harry_ began to beat out of the
narrow channel, on each side of which are broad and dangerous
sandbanks, which then were alike destitute of lights and buoys; but a
quartermaster was in the fore-chains, constantly heaving the lead.
The night was misty, for a thick eastern haar yet floated on the
bosom of the sea. The moon, now full-orbed and brilliant, was
shining, like a lamp-globe of obscured glass, shorn of its beams,
which lent a palpable whiteness to the mist they could not pierce.
As the wind freshened a little and made gaps through the fogbank, the
moonlight played along the waves, which followed each other in long
white lines of glittering foam.
The English ships heeled over as the breeze freshened, for they were
now always close-hauled. The stately _Harry_ rode gracefully over
each long rolling swell that curled under her prow; but Howard
thanked his good angel when he was clear of that dangerous estuary,
and when his next larboard tack enabled him to run far beyond the
shoals of the Buddon-ness.
At times the mist was so dense that the two consorts of the _Harry_
could not discern her top-light; the watch rang the ship's bell every
ten minutes, and they responded. This monotonous ringing continued
for nearly two hours, when suddenly the watch of the leading English
ship was startled by the report of a heavy culverin, apparently only
a few fathoms distant from their weatherbow, or so close that the red
flash was seen through the white and moonlit haze.
All hands were piped, and with alacrity the seamen stood to their
quarters, but in considerable excitement, for _Andrew Wood_ was
murmured along the decks as the ports were opened and the loaded guns
run out, while Howard hurried Margaret Drummond to a place of safety
below the water-line. But in accordance with King Henry's express
orders, he was resolved to avoid hostilities if possible, and if the
stranger should prove to be the famous Scottish admiral, to deceive
him by answering his hail in _French_.