THE SILKEN CORD.
"Faintingly her head she bendeth,
And on my dim and dewy eyes,
A kiss her purple mouth bestoweth,
Sweet repayment, while she sighs--
'Ah, that fondling in thine arms,
Thus may I ever live and die!'
She ceased, and the heart of Euphrasie
In the joy forgot the sigh."
We must go a little back in this, our history, to inform the reader
how the daughters of Lord Drummond received his proposition of making
one of them Lady of Home and the other Lady of Hailes. He did not
find them quite so pliant or acquiescent as the noble lords for whom
he destined them.
In the morning, before Margaret's abduction had been discovered, and
when the cold roasted beef, the venison pies, and tankards of hot
spiced ale, on which the good folks of those days breakfasted, were
awaiting them in the dining-hall, he sent impatiently for Euphemia
and Sybilla, and announced his views regarding them, simply saying
that the safety of the state in a struggle which all men saw
approaching required many bonds of union among the nobles, and that
the bonds of matrimony being the surest, it was requisite, by an
alliance with these two military chiefs, to strengthen his house, as
he was now well up in years, had many enemies, and so forth.
Poor Sybilla, whose lover had avowed his passion to none save
herself, and whose claim upon her love and honour were known to her
only, received this startling announcement with terror and dismay;
for it crushed and bewildered her like a sentence of death. But
Euphemia, who was proud and fiery, and the day of whose marriage with
Robert Barton had been already named, and was now only postponed in
consequence of his father's death, received the proposal with
astonishment, and with the indignation it merited.
"My father, this cannot be!" she exclaimed, setting her pretty foot
firmly on the floor, and nervously adjusting her satin hood, "you
know that I am solemnly, and by a ritual of our Church, promised and
affianced to Robert Barton. My uncle, the Dean of Dunblane, heard my
_trothplight_ at the altar, when I received this betrothal ring; our
promise of marriage is sanctioned and blessed by the Church, and can
no more be broken than the band of marriage itself, without
committing sacrilege and sin."
The old lord fidgetted about, for he felt the truth of what she said.
"Oh think again, dearest father, of what you require of us?" added
Euphemia.
"Us--_us_? I address myself to you, in the first place, Dame
Euphemia. The noble lovers I provide for you are not to be trifled
with, and will assuredly brush from their path the son of Barton the
merchant----"
"Sir Andrew Barton, the knight and admiral," interposed
Euphemia--"Barton the Laird of Barnton and Almondell!"
"Barton umquhile skipper and trader," said the father, angrily, as he
tore open the ribbons of his doublet and walked hurriedly up and down
the oak floor, stamping hard on his red-heeled boots at every turn.
"Dear father," urged the plaintive voice of Sybilla, "bethink thee
what our dearest mother would have thought of such a proposition."
"Just what she thought when such a proposition was made to her thirty
years ago--God assoilize her! She was a good and loving wife to me,
and yet--dost know how we came to be espoused?"
"Because you loved her, I would hope."
"Loved--fiddlestick! not a bit, at that time at least. When I was a
beardless young callant, the Murrays of Athole marched into
Strathearn, and came down by the woods of Ochtertyre and Comrie, with
pipes playing and banners displayed, to harry the lands of Drummond
of Mewie, and levy at the sword's point the tiends of the kirk of St.
Ronan at Monzievaird. Mewie was slain by them--shot dead by three
arrows. This was not to be borne! I marched with all the stout lads
of the stewartry against the Murrays, but they were too strong for me
then, and I was obliged to _gang warily_ until Lord Crawford offered
to lend me five hundred lances from Angus. We soon cleared all Upper
Strathearn of the Murrays, and drove them through Glenturrit and
Glenlednock. We besieged them in St. Ronan's kirk--fired its heather
roof, burned one half of them alive, and claymored the rest. In
gratitude to Crawford, who had more daughters than he knew what to do
with, I married Elizabeth Lindesay, and a good wife and true she was
to me--although at first she made many a moan, for she had been
affianced to Drummond of Mewie; but who cares for woman's tears when
trumpets are blown?"
"Father," said Euphemia, "thou forgettest that a woman has but one
heart to lose--one heart to bestow."
"'Sdeath! I shall lose my patience, and bestow my curse on some of
ye. Some harper or balladeer, some tramper or Egyptian hath put this
stuff into your head. Whoever heard of hearts or lovers standing in
the way of great lords--of castles and broad acres--of bands of
mail-clad men? Stuff, I tell thee, Effie; Hailes and Home will both
be made earls, and you shall both become countesses. I swear by
every altar in yonder kirk of Mary, you shall! We have had a queen
and a Lady of the Isles in the family, but never a countess yet!"
"Father, this cruelty and sacrilege will break my heart--it will kill
me."
"I never heard of a lusty lass like thee being killed by marriage
yet. Now do not provoke me, for my mind is made up. Come hither,
Sybilla; thou wilt not take a plaguey love-fit to vex thy old father?"
"Alas! father----"
"What! 'sdeath! hast thou no heart either, and wilt thou become a
contumacious gipsy?"
"Hear me, dear father----"
"I'll hear nothing but thy promise to be the bride of Hailes, or of
Home, I care not which; but one you shall have, so settle it between
ye. They are both brave and handsome gallants, with a good retinue
at their cruppers. I have no time for more of this," he continued,
buckling on his enormous sword; "or for reponding to the devil's
litanies of such gadabouts as either of ye."
The announcement of Lady Margaret's disappearance gave a sudden
change to this extraordinary conversation, and springing at a wrong
conclusion, Lord Drummond impetuously rushed away in search of
Rothesay, whom, as already related, he met in St. Clement's Wynd,
from whence they proceeded to the poor king, leaving Sybilla and
Euphemia overwhelmed with grief and consternation by this new and
sudden calamity; for no trace of Margaret could be found, and the
discovery of her poor little babe, concealed in the alcove of the
turret, served but to augment their sorrow and perplexity.
Next morning the anchors of the frigate were barely down before Jamie
Gair, who acted as pilot, and others who came off in the shore-boats,
informed those on board of the strange rumours then current in
Dundee. One man informed Archy the boatswain of how the Lady
Margaret Drummond had been carried off by the king's order, and
drowned in the pools of Errol; another told Master Wad how Angus and
Drummond had quarrelled with the king, and would have slain him but
for the timely intervention of the French ambassador, the Mareschal
de Concressault, and the Lord High Constable; a hundred other
stories, equally absurd and improbable, were heard by other members
of the crew; and the excitement which evidently prevailed ashore,
caused some alarm on board of the ships.
The admiral doubled the guard of arquebusses on the poop and
forecastle, loaded the cannon, moored the ships with a spring upon
their cables, ordered that all boats should be kept a bow-shot off,
and desiring the barge to be piped away, hurried ashore with all her
crew armed by jacks of mail below their canvas gaberdines.
Falconer, Barton, and the admiral were in half armour. The latter
hastened to the presence of the afflicted king, whom he found highly
excited by his late altercation with Angus and Rothesay; while the
two companions--the lovers--repaired to the mansion of Stobhall.
Borthwick, whom Sir Patrick Gray had desired to act as a spy upon the
inmates of that stately residence from the moment the ships had been
seen in the estuary, threw himself, sans leave, upon a coalier's
horse, which he found tethered to a ring in St. Clement's Wynd, and
galloped to Broughty, where the malcontent noblesse were assembled in
solemn but somewhat angry conclave; and there he informed Lord
Drummond and his two intended sons-in-law that the young ladies had
visitors. Upon this, the trio formed a little plot within their
greater conspiracy, to remove, or as Lord Drummond said, to brush
Barton and Falconer from their path for ever, and if possible to
entrap the good old admiral, and get the two king's ships into their
own hands; for the _Yellow Frigate_ and the _Margaret_ were then the
flower of the Scottish fleet, which, in the infancy of our maritime
affairs, mustered only a few sail.
In that time England had no more; for Henry VII. and Henry VIII.,
when requiring ships for warlike purposes, seized without ceremony
upon the largest merchantmen in their English ports. In 1512 the
fleet of James IV. consisted of forty-six sail, and was in no way
inferior to the fleets of Henry of England or Don Emanuel, King of
Portugal.
Borthwick, a wretch whose whole life had been a lie, a cheat, a web
of mischief and infamy, informed the three lords that Robert Barton
was in the house with Lady Euphemia, and that Sir David Falconer was
in the garden with her sister. On this they all rushed to their
horses, summoned the Lairds of Carnock and Balloch and other armed
followers of trust, and left the tower of Broughty intent on some
desperate outrage.
"So, then, 'tis Falconer whom Sybilla loves," said Hailes; "and 'tis
she whom I have made up my mind to win if I can. I have observed
that in his presence she always became brighter and more beautiful.
I was sharp enough to see that a spell was upon her; but I had no
idea then that she would ever be more to me than her aunt, the old
dame of Montrose."
"Prick on! prick on!" urged Home, spurring his horse; "we will soon
teach these varlets the penalty of raising their eyes to noble
ladies."
Unaware of the coming storm, Barton sat with Euphemia in the chamber
of dais; and Falconer with Sybilla in a summer house or alcove at the
foot of the garden, the southern boundary of which was the bed of the
Tay.
Shaded from the brilliant sun of noon by the trellis-work, the thick
honeysuckle and the privet, the lovers sat within their bower. The
shining river chafed the yellow sand at their feet in all its
greenness and verdure, the opposite coast seemed to palpitate in a
blaze of light; and midway between, with all their yards squared by
the boatswain's critical eye, their white sails neatly handed, and
their great blue ensigns drooping listlessly over their carved poops,
the stately caravels of the Laird of Largo rode at their moorings
with their heads to the ebbing tide.
Believing that none were watching and that none could see them,
Sybilla, in the excess of grief for her sister's mysterious
disappearance, had thrown herself upon the breast of Falconer. All
his whispers were full of hope and affection, and Sybilla wept while
she listened. Confined in its caul of gold, her glossy hair hung in
a heavy cluster on the shoulder of Sir David, and her hands were
locked in his. The lover endeavoured to convince her that their sad
and gentle Margaret was not, as the credulous burghers averred,
destroyed by the king, but most probably was abducted by him or young
Rothesay, and secured in some of the royal castles, but for what end
none could then foresee; at all events, to be assured that her safety
was certain, and that they would infallibly hear of her soon, as none
could have a pretext for injuring a being so good and gentle.
Sybilla allowed herself to be persuaded, and a faint smile began to
steal over her soft and downcast face.
Never did the rich costume of the court of James III. appear to
better advantage than on the fine form of Sybilla Drummond. Her
kirtle was of green brocade, and an open robe of cloth-of-silver fell
behind her, edged with fur and lined with white satin. Her girdle
was of silver, and there, as at her white forehead, her swelling
bosom and delicate little ears, hung long pearl pendants.
Women are said "to love those who follow desperate professions;" but
in those days, though the men of Scotland were all desperate fellows,
they had no professions to follow save the church, the sword, or the
sea; so it was rather the chivalric uprightness of his character, the
gallantry of his bearing, and the superiority which his educated mind
gave him over the brutal barons and unlettered lords of her time,
that made Sybilla yield up her pure and simple love to this young
soldier, who was one of James's favourites, and a protégé; for his
father had died in battle on the deck of his ship, defending the
harbour of Blackness when assailed by the English fleet seven years
before.
They did not speak much, this young and dreaming pair, for their
hearts were too full of tenderness and hope, desperate hope, that
their love might be successful; and being loth to pain unnecessarily
the heart of her lover, Sybilla, unlike the haughty Euphemia, did not
confide to him the intentions of her father regarding that young
noble whom he had sworn to make his son-in-law at all hazards; but
with the superstition incident to her time, rather than to herself,
she enumerated a number of omens of impending evil which now can only
excite a smile--and Falconer smiled at them even then.
Yesterday, when going to the chapel of the Grey Sisters in the
Overgaitt, ahe had seen a single crow flying straight before her--an
infallible omen of mischance; and this morning at sunrise, when
watching the swans that swam on the river, one uttered a wild,
wailing, and melodious sound, such as she had never heard before.
She thought it was enchanted; but an hour after it was seen to float
upon the water with outstretched wings, quite dead--another terrible
omen!
"The swan was dying, dearest Sybie, and was singing its own sweet
dirge," replied Falconer; "but thou hast heard what few have the
fortune to hear--though there is nothing wonderful in it. If Archy
of Anster our wight boatswain were here, he could tell thee of
stranger things; of an ocean where the fish turn all manner of
beautiful colours before they die; of gigantic plants that flower but
once in a hundred years, and happy is he who beholds them then; of
islands where every tree utters a melodious sound when the soft wind
sweeps through their fairy leaves, and of birds that live for six
long centuries, and having no mate, burn themselves to death in a
nest of spices, from whence a young one springs forth with all its
plumage sprouting--the phoenix of Arabia! In the bosom of Nature,
dearest, there is hidden many a secret of which we know nothing."
"I have heard Father Zuill speak of such things to my sister
Margaret," said Sybilla, weeping at her name.
"Our chaplain--ah! he hopes one day to invent a mirror which will
consume ships and cities, scorch forests to charcoal, and mountains
to cinders, and put cannon and arquebusses quite out of fashion, like
the mangonels and balistæ of the olden time. What would become of me
then? I should have to learn some other trade than soldiering, or go
to battle with a mirror on my back. It is the insanity of science."
"Yet I have heard that your old Dominican is a famous preacher."
"Ay, Willie Wad, our gunner, swears that when he expounded on the
Deluge, one day, all the fishes arose from the water and sat upon
their tails to hear his discourse, as they of old to St. Anthony,
when he preached. But Cuddie, the admiral's coxswain, averred that
it was only because they had more reason to be grateful than other
animals, being the sole portion of the animated creation that escaped
the great flood in the days of old Admiral Noah. But thou dost not
smile, Sybie--sweet-heart."
Between these two there was a reciprocity of sentiment so complete,
that conversation was, perhaps, little wanted at that sad and anxious
interview. Neither had a thought, a hope, or a fear, in which the
other did not participate; and now, for more than another hour they
sat dreaming side by side, or only exchanging mute and little
caresses, as Sybilla reclined her head on Falconer's shoulder. Her
eyes were fixed on the still flow of the sunlit Tay, while his were
gazing on the radiance and serenity of her pure and delicate face.
He thought that a time _might_ come when this dear spell would be
broken--when the tendril that clung to him, this gentle one who had
entwined herself around his heart, and who loved him with all the
purity and fervour of a young and confiding girl, would be torn from
him and given to another. It might be; such things happened often in
Scotland then; and at that foreboding thought, a frown wrinkled the
brow of Falconer; a cold anguish entered his heart, and he was
obliged to turn away, lest the timid Sybilla should see the
expression of menace which he knew such a terrible anticipation
wrought upon his features. Was this a foreboding of what was to come?
At such moments Falconer would feel the white straight brow of
Sybilla come nearer his cheek, and her hand tighten its clasp in his;
then his angry fears evaporated, in the tenderness that mute caress
inspired.
Poor lovers! they heard not the stealthy steps that were creeping
down the gravel walks; they saw not the fierce and mocking eyes of
those who, from without the leafy bower, were watching, with mingled
scorn and amusement, this interchange of endearments and this purity
of soul, in which they could not share; for, acting on the
information received from Borthwick, those inseparable companions,
Hailes and Home, with the Lairds of Carnock, Balloch, and others,
were all close by, armed and intent on some deed of cruelty.
Suddenly their ominous shadows darkened the sunny entrance of the
bower! The lovers started, and beheld five or six pairs of eyes
regarding them with expressions of menace and insolence.
"Villain, draw!" said Lord Hailes, imperiously.
"'Pon my soul, you have a polite way of announcing yourself," said
Falconer, scornfully, as he drew his sword and placed himself before
the terrified Sybilla, around whom he threw his left arm as a
protection.
"I most humbly crave pardon for this unpleasant intrusion, Lady
Sybilla," said Hailes, uncovering his head, and bowing till his
plumed bonnet swept the grass--but bowing with bitter irony: "we must
hale forth this man, whose presence disgraces you."
"Fellow, come forth!" cried Home, unsheathing his sword; "the crows
shall hold thy lykewake to-night."
"Gie him Lauder Brig owre again," said Drummond of Carnock, making a
thrust, which drew a shrill cry from Sybilla, and a successful parry
from Falconer, whose sword twisted the other's blade out of his hand,
and sent it flying over a tree-top behind him.
"A devil of a fellow this!" said Balloch.
"An insolent churl!" added the two lords.
"Allow me to suggest to your lordships the cultivation of courage as
a quality--the acquisition of politeness being an impossibility,"
said Falconer, with a withering glance.
At this sneer the rage of his assailants knew no bounds; and they
lunged at him again and again severally and with all their swords
together, but being within the bower he kept them completely at bay.
"Come forth, I tell thee, villain!" said Home, imperiously, "that I
may handsel a new sword on thy plebeian head."
"Proud lord," said Falconer, as by one well-directed thrust he
pierced the sword-arm of Hailes; "ere long we will teach thee, and
such as thee, who fight only to uphold long pedigrees and overweening
privileges, that the Scottish people will not submit to be trampled
on by a horde of titled traitors."
"May I die, fellow, but thou shalt eat these words," cried Hailes,
hoarsely, and still pressing on, while his sword-arm dripped with
blood.
"I know one thing thou wilt never die of--shame," said Falconer,
laughing, as he thrust him back at full length on the sward. At that
moment, the gallant young arquebussier, who was so fully occupied in
front that he did not hear Borthwick breaking through the bower
behind him, suddenly felt his arms seized by that personage; and then
his assailants, two of whom were infuriated by wounds, rushed upon
him; tore the screaming Sybilla from his arm, wrested away his sword,
and dashed him to the earth. Now there was an ominous pause, as to
whether or not they should despatch him at once.
"Gie him Lauder Brig, I till ye!" cried Balloch again.
"Thou art right, laird," said Home, fiercely; "but we have no tent
cords."
"But here is my scarf," said Hailes, whose hands clutched the throat
of Falconer like a tiger's fangs. "Knot me a noose some of you, and
pull with a will."
"Quick," added Carnock; "pull--pull! By Saint Beelzebub, my fine
fellow, thou wilt soon look like a gled nailed on a byre-door."
In the hands of so many, Sir David Falconer, though young, powerful,
and athletic, was completely overmastered; and now ensued one of
those terrible scenes which so often darkened the annals of our
country. The scarf, which was of soft silk, was tied round
Falconer's neck in a slip-knot, with grim deliberation.
"Save me from this butchery, Lord Home--for _her_ sake," said
Falconer, making tremendous efforts to free himself; "or, at least,
remove her in pity. Hear me, Home--thou wert once loyal and gallant."
"Peace, villain," replied that ferocious peer, as he smote the brave
suppliant full and heavily on the mouth with his hand.
"Mercy," implored Sybilla, sinking on her knees, and clinging to the
hand of Borthwick, who held her as in a giant's grasp; "mercy for
him, and for the love of God! Man--man--thou hast been a priest, and
must yet remember that the merciful are blessed, for they shall
obtain mercy. Have pity! O have pity; by the Star of Heaven, by the
Queen of Angels, I implore you to have pity!"
But Borthwick, who was wholly employed in looking down upon that
snowy bosom, of which her kneeling position enabled him to see more
than was ever meant for eyes like his, heeded her not; but grasped
her with the strength and tenacity of an iron vice; and now, while
her cries and entreaties would have melted the hearts of any men but
those of the Scottish noblesse of 1488, these miscreants began to
strangle and drag Falconer, by the knotted scarf, towards the river.
"For God's love--for her sake--gentlemen--my Lord's--good sirs, do
not murder me thus before her face--before her; remove her--beloved
Sybilla--pity, pity--mercy, am I to die like a dog--for her--for her
sake, monsters--God!----"
The tightening of the knot cut short the cries of Falconer, who in
that terrible moment thought only of Sybilla; but dragged as he was
by the throat, strangulation immediately ensued; his handsome
features became swollen, livid, and frightful; his eyeballs
protruded. He tossed his arms about him wildly; but the third time
he was dragged round the bower, he was senseless, lifeless, and
stiff; and the assassins, after bestowing a few parting kicks on the
body, carefully sheathed their swords, which had been lying on the
ground, and retired, leisurely and without precipitation.
"Adieu, lady," said Lord Hailes, with a stern loftiness of manner;
"now we have revenged your honour on this presumptuous churl."
"Farewell, and I give you joy of your lemane, sweet madam," said
Borthwick, mockingly, as he released her.
With a shriek Sybilla sprang to the breathless body of her lover.
Her fingers were trembling, weak, and powerless; thus she strove
fruitlessly to loosen the hateful scarf which encircled his neck.
The attempt was vain, for there was no strength in her.
Then, overcome by the frightful, swollen, and blackened aspect of
that beloved face, she uttered another wild, despairing cry, and fell
prostrate and senseless upon him.
So ended this scene of horror!