planted in ambush on the side of a hill above the Aven. Our captain
seemed to be restless and anxious. He moved about from place to place,
stretching on tiptoe from the top of every knoll, and sometimes
climbing the tallest pine trees, in order to scan the valley below
more narrowly. At length, as it grew late in the afternoon, he took
a long look from one point, and then, as if he had at last made some
discovery of importance, he suddenly moved us off into a thicket,
which grew on the edge of a considerable opening in the wood on the
hill-side; and I would know that opening again, for it had the green
quaking bog of a well-head in the very midst of it.
"We had not stood long there, till a man in very plain attire, with a
bow in his hand, came up from the thick wood below, and began to pass
aslant the open space. 'There goes a good mark for an arrow,' said
the captain of the band. 'Shoot at him, my men.'--'He is not worth
a shaft,' replied some of his people. 'He is a poor fellow who hath
nothing in his sporran to pay for the killing of him.'--'No matter,'
said Ewan Cameron, 'he hath a good pair of sandals on him; and my
brogues are worn to shreds--so, here goes at him.' And just as the man
was passing along the bank close above the well-eye, the arrow fled,
and pierced him to the heart. 'Well shot, Ewan!' cried the captain,
in a strange ecstasy of joy; 'thou shalt have gold for that shot of
thine.' So instant was his death, that he sprang high into the air,
and his body fell headlong and without life into the very middle of
the bog, with a force that buried it in its yielding mass, so high,
that nothing was seen of him but his legs. Ewan hastened to the place,
quietly took off the sandals from the dead man, threw off his own
brogues, and put on the sandals in place of them, and then the captain
himself ran eagerly to help him to force the corpse downwards into
the bog; and this they did till the green moss closed over the soles
of its feet. I then knew not who the murdered man might be,--and the
deed was no sooner done, than our captain ordered us to make our way
back, as fast as we could travel, over the hills, whilst he left us
to go directly down into the glen.
"Early next morning, a messenger again came to us; and five picked
archers were sent out under the orders of Ewan Cameron. I was
directed to accompany them; and I marvelled much why I, who was so
inexperienced, should be required to go on an expedition where they
seemed to be so very particular in choosing their men. But Ewan
Cameron soon let me into the secret. 'Thou knowest the person of
Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan, dost thou not?' said he to me.--'If
that was he who took the lady from the cave, and left me bound,
replied I, 'then have I reason to remember him right well.'--'Then
must I tell thee, that we are now sent forth expressly to hunt for
him, and to take his life,' replied Ewan; 'and if thou would'st fain
preserve thine own, thou wilt need to look sharply about thee, that
thou mayest tell me when thou seest him.'--'Who covets to have his
life?' demanded I.'--'He who made me take the life of his brother
Walter, for those sandals which I now wear,' said Ewan.--'What! our
captain?' exclaimed I; 'that must be in revenge, because Sir Patrick
Stewart took the lady from him.'--'Partly so, perhaps,' replied Ewan;
'but I am rather jealous that our captain's greatest fault to Sir
Patrick Stewart is, that he, like his brother, Sir Walter Stewart,
was born before him. Knowest thou not, that our captain is no other
than Murdoch Stewart, the third son of old Sir Allan of Stradawn?' I
was no sooner made aware of this, than--"
The youth would have proceeded, but the loud murmur of astonishment
and horror that arose every where throughout the hall, so drowned
his voice, that he was compelled to stop.
"Holy Saint Michael, what a perfect villain thou art!" exclaimed
the old Lord of Curgarf, darting a look of indignant detestation at
Murdoch Stewart.
"Thou wouldst not condemn a stranger unheard," said Murdoch, calmly.
"Nay," replied the Lord of Curgarf, "thou shalt have full justice. We
shall hear thee anon. But let this youth finish his narrative, which
would seem to be pregnant with strange and horrible things."
"I have but little more to say," continued the youth. "Gratitude to
Sir Patrick Stewart, for having spared my life, when his own security
might have required the taking of it, at once resolved me against
betraying him to slaughter. Ewan Cameron marched us straight away
to the hill, which rises above the track that leads from the little
place of Tomantoul to the river Don, and there he kept us sitting,
for some time, watching, till we espied three men coming along the
way. Whilst they were yet afar off I knew one of them to be the very
person whom the murderers were in search of. 'Is that Sir Patrick
Stewart that comes first yonder?' demanded Ewan.--'I cannot tell
at this distance,' said I; 'but I think the man I saw in the cave
was much taller than that man.'--'That is a tall man,' said Ewan;
'take care what thou sayest, or thou mayest chance to have thy
stature curtailed by the whole head.'--'I say what is true,' said I;
'no man could know his own father at that distance.'--'Then will I
assert that thou sayest that which is a lie,' said one of the party;
'for great as the distance may be, I know that to be Sir Patrick
Stewart. I mean that man who comes first of the three.'--'Let us
down upon him without loss of time then,' cried Ewan; 'and do you
come along, Sirrah! Thou shalt along with us; and, when our work is
done, we shall see whether we cannot find the means of refreshing
thy memory.' Having uttered these words, Ewan hurried us all down to
the covert of a small patch of stunted pines, that grew on the flat
ground below. There we lay in ambush till Sir Patrick Stewart, and
his two attendants, came within bowshot, and there, as is already
known to most here, the six assassins were speedily punished for
their wicked attempt, and I became Sir Patrick Stewart's prisoner."
"Now," said the Lord of Curgarf, addressing himself to Murdoch,
"what hast thou to say in answer to all this?--What hast thou to
answer for thyself?"
"I say that the young caitiff is a foul liar!" cried Murdoch
violently. "He is a foul liar, who hath been taught a false tale,
to bear me down."
"He may be a liar," said the Lord of Curgarf; "but his story hangs
marvellously well together."
"Who would dare to condemn me on his unsupported testimony?" demanded
Murdoch, boldly.
"Here is one who is ready to support his tale," said Michael Forbes,
pressing forward, and pushing before him a strange looking little man,
with a long red beard, and a head of hair so untamed, that it hung
over his sharp sallow features in such a manner, as, for some moments,
to render it difficult for Sir Patrick Stewart to recognise in him,
the man whom he had saved from his perilous position in the salmon
creel, at the Lynn of Aven.
"Ha!--Grigor Beg!" cried Murdoch Stewart, betrayed by his surprise, at
beholding him; "What a fiend hath brought thee hither?--But thou--thou
can'st say nothing against me."
"I fear I can say nothing for thee, Murdoch Stewart," said the little
man, darting a pair of piercing eyes towards him, from amidst the
tangled thickets of his hair. "Nor is it needful for me now to say
all I might against thee. But here, as I understand, thou hast basely
and falsely accused thy brother Sir Patrick Stewart of murdering his
elder brother Sir Walter. Now, I saw Ewan Cameron shoot down Sir
Walter Stewart with an arrow; and it was done at thy bidding too,
for I was by, on the hill-side, when thou didst give to Ewan Cameron
his secret order to slay thy brother, and when thou didst teach him
to do the deed, as if it were an idle act, done against a stranger."
"Lies!--lies!--a very net-work of lies, in which to ensnare me!" cried
Murdoch. "But who can condemn me for another's death, who, for aught
that we know truly, may yet appear alive and well?"
"Thou hadst no such scruple in condemning thine innocent brother,
Sir Patrick," said the Lord of Curgarf; "yet shall no guilt be
fixed upon thee, till thy brother's death be established beyond
question. Meanwhile thou must be a bounden prisoner, till the truth
be clearly brought to light."
"Men of Clan-Allan! will ye allow him who must be your chieftain to
be laid hands on in the house of a stranger?" cried Murdoch Stewart
aloud. "You are armed; use your weapons then, and leave not a man
alive!"
A thrill of horror ran through every bosom. There were brave men enough
of the Clan-Forbes there, to have made head against three times the
number of Clan-Allans that now stood, armed to the teeth, and in a
firm body, at the lower end of the hall; but there was not a man of
the Forbeses, who, if not altogether unarmed, had any weapon at all
to defend himself with but his dirk. Those who had such instruments
were drawing them, whilst others were rushing to the walls, to arm
themselves with whatsoever weapons they could most easily reach,
and pluck down thence. The noise and bustle of the moment was great,
when, all at once, there fell a hush over the turbulence of the scene.
"Stir not a man of Clan-Allan!" cried Sir Patrick to the Stewarts, who
stood in their array, like a heavy and portentous thundercloud. "Stir
not, men of Clan-Allan!--Stir not a finger, I command you!"
"Sir Patrick Stewart is our young chieftain!" broke like a roll of
Heaven's artillery from the Clan-Allans. "Sir Patrick Stewart is our
young chieftain! Murdoch is a foul traitor and murderer! Bind him, bind
him! Let him be the prisoner, and let us have him forthwith justified!"
"Nay, nay," cried Sir Patrick; "bind him if you will, but lay not
your hands upon his life. This day, my Catherine," said he, turning
to the lady, and addressing her tenderly and sorrowfully; "This day,
that was to have been to me so full of joy, must now, alas! be the
first of that doleful time, which, in the bereavement of my heart,
I must devote to mourning for my beloved brother Walter. My first duty
is to go and seek for his remains; and in following out this most sad
and anxious search, I must crave thy presence, my Lord of Curgarf,
and thine, too, Arthur, with that of such of our friends as may be
disposed to go forth with us, to aid us in so painful a quest."
The wishes of Sir Patrick Stewart were readily agreed to. The nuptials
were for the present postponed; and instead of the marriage-feast, some
hasty refreshment was taken, preparatory to their immediate departure
on their melancholy search. The treacherous Murdoch Stewart was now
given in charge, as a manacled prisoner, to those very Clan-Allans,
at the head of whom he had come, so triumphantly, to fix a false
accusation on his brother Sir Patrick. With them too went the youth,
and the little man, Grigor Beg, who had given their evidence against
Murdoch. The old Lord of Curgarf's quiet palfrey was led forth;
and he set forward, attended by Arthur the Master of Forbes, Sir
Patrick Stewart, and a considerable following of those who were led
to accompany him by duty, or from curiosity.
They first visited the scene of the attempted assassination of Sir
Patrick Stewart. The spot where the six Catteranes were slain, was
easily discovered, by the flock of birds of prey that sat perched upon
the tops of the dwarf pines, or that wheeled over them in whistling
circles; whilst every now and then, some individual, bolder than the
rest, would swoop down on the heath, to partake of the banquet which
had been spread upon it for them. That some considerable share of
courage was required to enable these creatures to do this, was proved
to the party, who, on their nearer approach, scared away a brace of
hungry, gaunt-looking wolves, who had been employed in ravenously
tearing at the bodies, and dragging them hither and thither with
bloody jaws; as well as an eagle, who had dared to sit a little
way apart, to feed upon one of the carcases, in defiance of his
ferocious four-footed fellow-guests. The spectacle was shocking to
all who beheld it. But one object of their search was gained; for,
on examination, Patrick recognised his brother Walter's sandals,
which were removed from the feet of the corpse of Ewan Cameron,
and taken care of--thus so far corroborating the testimony of the
youth. Having completed their investigations in this place, they
piled heaps of stones over the bodies on the spot where they lay,
and the party then pursued their way, over the mountain, towards the
alleged scene of Sir Walter Stewart's murder.
Providence seemed to guide their steps;--for, as they passed over
the brow of the wooded hill that dropped down towards the Aven,
they scared away two ravens from a hollow place in the heath; and,
on approaching the spot, they discovered the well-picked bones of
a deer. His head showed him to have been an unusually fine great
hart of sixteen. An arrow was sticking so deeply fixed through the
shoulder-blade, as to satisfy all present, that its point must have
produced death, very soon after the animal had received it.
"As I hope for mercy, there is the very arrow that was lacking of
Sir Patrick's three!" cried Dugald Roy, triumphantly. "See--there is
the very eagle's feather which I put on it, with mine own hand! And,
look--there is the cross, which I always cut on the shaft, to give them
good luck. No shaft of mine, so armed, ever misses, when righteously
discharged. But for foul or treacherous murther, I'll warrant me,
that the most practised eye could never bring it to a true aim. But"
added he, as he very adroitly dislocated out the shoulder-bone, as
Highlanders are wont, and then possessed himself of the shoulder-blade,
arrow and all--"I'll e'en take this arrow with me, with the bone just
as it is, as a dumb but true witness in a righteous cause."
Led by the directions which they received from Grigor Beg, they now
descended through the forest, till they came to that very well-eye
you see yonder--for that was the very individual place, that both
the old man and the youth had described as the scene of Sir Walter's
murder. They had used the precaution to bring with them implements
for digging; and, by means of these, a few sturdy fellows were soon
enabled to make an opening into the lower end of the quaking bog,
so as very quickly to discharge the pent-up water within it. The
green surface then gradually subsided, and the legs of a human being,
with hose on, but without sandals, began to appear, sticking out,
with the feet upwards; and, by digging a little around it, they
soon succeeded in bringing the body of Sir Walter Stewart fully to
light. It was in all respects unchanged. The fatal arrow was deeply
buried in his left breast; his bow was firmly grasped in his hand;
and his three eagle-winged shafts were in his belt. The small unplumed
bonnet which he usually wore, when dressed for following the deer,
was fast squeezed down on his head, by the pressure which had been
exerted to sink him. How differently were the two brothers, Patrick
and Murdoch Stewart, affected by the harrowing spectacle which was
now brought before their eyes! Murdoch shed no tear--yet his features
were strongly agitated. He looked at the corpse with averted eyes, and
shuddered as he looked; whilst his face became black, and again deadly
pale, twenty times alternately. Sir Patrick Stewart, on the other hand,
threw himself, in an agony of tears, on the cold and dripping body of
his murdered brother, as it lay exposed on the bank; and, unable to
give utterance to his grief, he clasped it to his bosom, and lavished
fond, though unavailing caresses on it. In vain he essayed, with as
much tenderness as if his brother could have still felt the pain he
might thereby have given him, to pluck forth the arrow, deeply buried
in the fatal wound. All present were overcome by this sad scene;--but
poor Dugald Roy hung over them, and sobbed aloud, till the violence
of his grief recalled Sir Patrick Stewart to himself again.
"Aye!" said Dugald Roy; "that is a murderous shaft indeed! A good
cloth-yard in length, I'll warrant me; and feathered, too, from the
wing of some ill-omened grey goose, that was hatched in some western
sea-loch. This is no arrow of the make of Aven-side, else am I no judge
of the tool. No cross upon this, I'll be sworn. No, no.--By St. Peter,
but it hath murther in the very look of it! Aye, and there are the true
arrows of the cross in his belt!--These are of my winging, every one
of them. Little did I think, when I stuck them into my poor master's
girdle, that this was to be the way in which I was to find them! Would
that he had but gotten fair play! Would that he had but got his eye
on the villains ere they slew him! If he had but gotten one glimpse
of them, by the Rood, but every cross of these shafts would have been
eager to have dyed itself red in the blood of their cowardly hearts!"
The body of Sir Walter Stewart was now wrapped up in a plaid, and
fastened lengthwise upon two parallel boughs, and it was borne towards
Drummin. Their movements were so slow, and so often interrupted,
that it was dark night long ere they came to the place of their
destination. Sir Patrick Stewart felt the necessity of preparing his
father, Sir Allan, for the coming scene, as well as for the reception
of the Lord of Curgarf, and his son, the Master of Forbes. He therefore
resolved to hurry on before the party, that he might have a private
meeting with the old Knight, before their arrival. But being fully
aware that Sir Allan's mind had been already filled with those
iniquitous falsehoods, which his wicked brother, Murdoch Stewart,
had engendered against him, he thought it prudent to take with him
Dugald Roy, and two other men of the Clan-Allans, that they might be
prepared, if necessary, to support his justification of himself.
As Sir Patrick Stewart, and his small escort, approached the outer gate
of the Castle of Drummin, they perceived that it was shut. Dugald had
no sooner observed this circumstance, than he made a signal to the
Knight to remain silent, and then he advanced quietly to the little
wicket in the middle of the gate, and knocked gently.
"Who is there?" demanded the Warder, from within.
"Open the wicket, man, without a moment's tarrying," replied Dugald.
"Is that thee, Dugald Roy?" demanded the Warder.
"Who else could it be?" replied Dugald.
"It may be that any other might have done as well," replied the Warder
gruffly. "Thou wentst not forth with Murdoch Stewart;--Art thou of
his company at the present time?"
"What matter though I went not forth with him, if I come home in his
company?" replied Dugald readily.
"Is he with thee, then?" demanded the Warder.
"To be sure he is," cried Dugald impatiently. "Come, man! he is
close at hand, I tell thee. Come! art thou to keep us standing here
all night? By all that's good, he is coming upon us;--and, if he be
detained but the veriest fraction of a prod-flight, thou shalt surely
have a cudgelling for thy supper. Come man!--open I tell thee."
The huge iron bolts were now withdrawn from their fastenings, the key
grated among the rough wards of the lock, and the wicket was thrown
back, whilst the Warder, peering through the opening, seemed as if
he were inclined to know something more of those without, before he
removed his own bulky person, that still blocked the passage. But
Dugald, stooping his head, sprang through the low aperture, and
throwing his skull right into the poor fellow's stomach, with the
force of a battering-ram, he laid him sprawling on his back.
"Hech!" cried the Warder, as he fell. "Hech me!"
"Old fool that thou art!" cried Dugald, taking up the first word of
quarrel with him; "who was to think that thou wert to be standing in
the very midst of the way?--Yet I hope I have not hurt thee, for all
that. Thou knowest, Rory, that I had rather hurt myself than thee."
"Nay, nay," said the old man, with a surly sort of acquiescence, as
he was slowly raising himself from the ground by means of Dugald's
assistance; during which operation Patrick Stewart, wrapped up in his
plaid, and followed by the other two men, had made good his entrance
into the court-yard. "Nay, nay, I am not hurt. I'm no such eggshells,
i'faith. Yet what a fiend made thee so impatient? I behooved to be
careful who I let in, seeing that I was strictly charged to open to
none but Murdoch Stewart himself there," pointing to Sir Patrick,
who was standing a few paces aloof. "More by token, I required to be
all the warier, seeing that there was none living within the walls,
besides myself, save the old Knight Sir Allan, and the Lady Stradawn."
"How comes that?" demanded Dugald; "Though so many went to Curgarf,
there were still some left behind, surely."
"True enough, true enough," replied the Warder. "But I know not what
hath possessed the lady. They have all been sent hither and thither, on
some errand or another;--even the very women folk have all gone forth."
Sir Patrick Stewart stood to hear no more, but making a signal to
Dugald and the others to follow him, he crossed the court-yard towards
the door of the keep tower, where they stood aside, whilst he knocked
gently, yet loud enough to be heard in the hall above. Soon afterwards,
a timid and unsteady footstep was heard descending the stair.
"Open, good mother," said Sir Patrick.
"Oh, how thankful I am that thou art come!" said the Lady Stradawn,
mistaking him for her son Murdoch, their voices being a good deal
like to each other, and opening the door, pale and trembling, with a
lamp in her hand, which the gust immediately extinguished. "A plague
on the wind, my lamp is out! But oh, I am thankful that thou art
come! 'Tis fearful to be left alone in the house with a dead man,
and one, too----Oh 'twas fearful!"
"Dead!" cried Sir Patrick, with an accent of horror, which might have
betrayed him, but for the agitation which then possessed her whom he
addressed. "A dead man, saidst thou?"
"Aye!" replied the lady, in a hollow tone, "aye! I saw that thou hadst
yearnings. Yet, after all, it was but giving him ease, by ridding him
of a lingering life of pain. It was kindness, in truth, to help him
away from such misery. Yet, 'tis no marvel that thou, who art his very
blood, should have some compunction. But thou mayest be at rest now,
for he is gone beyond thy help, or that of any one else."
"Gone!" exclaimed Sir Patrick again--"Gone! how did he die?"
"Horribly! most horribly!" replied the lady, shuddering. "It was
fearful to behold him in his agonies! Knowing, as I did, the potency
of the poison, I could hardly have believed that the old man would
have taken so long to die."
"Horrible!" exclaimed Sir Patrick, involuntarily.
"Aye, it was horrible!" replied the lady; "horrible indeed, as thou
wouldst have said if thou hadst seen it. For a moment, the poison
seemed to have given him new strength, and he rose from his chair as
if he would have done vengeance on me. 'Twas fearful to behold him!"
"Art sure he is quite dead?" said Sir Patrick again.
"Aye," replied the lady, "as dead as his son Walter; so dead, as to
make thee surely the Laird of Stradawn, the moment that thou shalt
have made as sicker of Patrick, as we may now soon hope thou wilt
be able to do. I did but help him, as I was saying, out of the pains
and wretchedness of old age and dotage. Yet it was an awful work for
me. And oh, his last look was fearful! I wish I may ever be able to
get rid of it! Would that thou couldst have steeled thyself up to
have done it thyself Murdoch! But come in--come in quickly! Hast thou
secured the prisoner?"
"I have," replied Sir Patrick, now exerting a certain degree of
command over his feelings; "he will be here anon."
"That is well," replied the Lady Stradawn; "then all is thine own. His
trial must be short, and his execution speedy. But come, we have much
to do to make things seemly ere they arrive. He must appear to have
died of a broken heart, caused by the wickedness of his son. Every
thing suspicious must be removed from about him. I could not dare
to touch him. Why stand ye so long hesitating? But 'tis no wonder,
for I could not look upon him myself without fancying that the devil
was grinning over my shoulder. 'Tis horrible to think on't! But come,"
continued she, as she at last seemed to summon up resolution to climb
the stair; "lock the door, Murdoch, and follow me up quickly, for we
have no time to lose."