But to return from this necessary digression.--The king and his nobles
had a banquet in the Abbey that night on which Croudy was changed, and
it was agreed by all present, that the venison of the roe-deer of Eildon
exceeded in quality that of any other part of the kingdom. The king
appeared thoughtful and absent during the whole of the evening; and at
mass, it was observed that he was more fervent in his devotions than
ever he was wont to be. The words of the old mysterious stranger--his
sudden disappearance--the rumours of fairies and witchcrafts that were
abroad, together with another vision which he had seen, but not yet
disclosed, preyed upon his mind, as it was little wonder they should,
and made him apprehend that every step he took was on enchanted ground.
The hound, Mooly, had slipt into the banquet-hall at the time of
vespers, and neither soothing, threatening, nor the lash, would drive
her hence. She clung to the king's foot until he took pity on her, and
said, "Cease, and let the poor animal stay, since she insists on it. I
will not have her maltreated for the fault of those who have the charge
of her, and should have put her better up." So Mooly got leave to
remain, and kept her station the whole night without moving.
The glass circulated until a late hour. At length the king said, "My
lords, I crave a cup full to the brim, which I mean to dedicate to the
health of a lady, whom I think I saw yesterday morning; the mentioning
of whose name will a little astonish you."
"My royal son and sire," said the abbot, "for your majesty is both, in
the general acceptation of the terms, shall it not be of your far-famed
Malmsey that you will drink this beloved toast?"
"If you so please," said his majesty.
"Ralpho," said the abbot, "here is the key. You alone know where the
portion of old Malmsey is to be found among his majesty's stores here
deposited; bring one bottle only to his majesty, and pour it carefully
yourself."
Ralpho obeyed; poured out the wine till the cup was full, and turned the
remainder into a sewer. The king then arose, and lifting his cup on
high--"My lords," said he, "I give you the fairest, the loveliest, and
the most angelic maid that ever Scotland bred--I give you Elen of
Rosline."
Every one started at the name till the wine was spilled all around the
table. Astonishment was in every look, for the king had said he had seen
her yesterday at morn.
"To the bottom," cried the king.
Every one drank off his cup with avidity, anxious to hear the
explanation. The king kept the position in which he stood until he saw
every cup drained, and then brought his slowly and gracefully to his
lips, with the intention of emptying it at one draught. But the moment
that it reached them, Mooly sprung up, snatched the cup and wine out of
his hand, and threw them on the floor.
"Strike the animal dead," cried one.
"Kick her out of the hall," said another.
"Take her out and let her be hung up," cried a third.
Mooly cowered at her royal master's feet, as if begging pardon, or
begging to remain.
"Let her alone," said the king; "let us see what the beast means, and if
she persists in the outrage."
He filled his cup of the wine before him, and brought it slowly to his
head in the same manner as he did before. He even took it away and
brought it back several times, in order to see if she would be provoked
to do the like again. But no!--Mooly appeared perfectly satisfied, and
suffered her master to drink it off piece-meal. A certain consternation
reigned in the royal apartment for some time; sharp arguments followed;
and, in the mean time, Angus and the abbot were heard whispering apart,
and the one said, "It must be accomplished this night, or abandoned for
ever."
The nobles again took their seats, and the king appeared as formerly to
be growing thoughtful and dejected.
"Pray cheer up your heart and be merry, my liege," said Douglas, "and
let not the casual frolic of a pampered animal tend to cast down your
majesty's spirits. Your majesty has not yet drank the extraordinary
toast you proposed."
"But that I shall do presently," said the king.
"Ay," said the abbot, "and your majesty shall do it too in the wine of
which I have heard your majesty so much approve. Fetch another bottle,
Ralpho."
Ralpho brought it.--"I will pour for myself," said the king; and taking
the bottle, he poured about one-half of it into his cup; again named the
name of Elen of Rosline with rapturous enthusiasm, and again as he put
the cup to his lips, Mooly sprung up, snatched the cup from his hand,
and dashed it on the floor more furiously than before, and then cowered
at her master's feet as if begging not to be struck.
"There is something more than ordinary in this," said the king, "and I
will have it investigated instantly."
"There is nothing in it at all," said the abbot. "Pardon me, sire; but
it is a fault in your majesty, for which I have grieved, and often done
penance myself. You are, and have always been a visionary, and nothing
will ever wean you from it. You make idols of these two animals; they
have sometime been taught a number of pranks, and for one of these would
you augur aught against the monastery, your nobles, or your majesty's
own peace of mind?"
"Are you certain that is the genuine Old Malmsey wine, Ralpho?" said the
king.
"I am certain, sire, it is the wine that was shown to me as such."
The king poured out the remainder that was in the bottle. "Drink thou
that, Ralpho," said he, "and tell me if it be really and truly the
genuine Malmsey."
Ralpho thanked his majesty, bowed, and drank off the cup without
hesitation.
"Is it genuine, Ralpho?"
"I don't know, your majesty; I think it tastes a little of the earth."
The circle laughed at Ralpho's remark; and the conversation began again
to grow general, when, some time thereafter, Ralpho, who was bustling
about, sat down in a languid and sickly posture on one of the window
seats. They looked at him, and saw that his face was becoming black.
"What is the matter, Ralpho?" said one.
"I do not know what is the matter with me," returned he; "I think I feel
as if that wine were not like to agree with my stomach."
He fell into immediate convulsions, and in ten minutes he was lying a
swollen and disfigured corpse.
Douglas was the first to cry out _treason_. He bolted the door, and
stood inside with his sword drawn, vowing that he would search the soul
of every traitor in the room. Angus's great power made the other lords
to stand in awe of him; although it was obvious to them all, that he was
at least as likely to have a hand in this as any other. Hume charged him
boldly to his face with it, and made proffer to abide by the proof; but
he pretended to receive the charge only with scorn and derision, as one
which no reasonable man could suppose. The king was greatly affected,
and, upon the whole, showed rather more apprehension on account of his
personal safety, than was, perhaps, becoming in a sovereign. He cried
out that "they were all of them traitors! and that he would rather be at
the head of a band of moss-troopers, than be thus condemned to have such
a set about him whom he could not trust."
After some expostulation he acquitted the Earl of Angus, more, it was
thought, through fear, than conviction of his innocence; but from an
inference, the most natural in the world, he fixed the blame on the
abbot.
"My liege," said the reverend father, "I know no more how this has
happened than the child that is unborn. There can be no doubt but that,
instigated by some of your majesty's enemies, the wretch, Ralpho, has
mixed the poison himself, and has met with the fate he justly deserved."
"No!" replied the king, "If that had been the case, he would not have
been so ready in participating of the draught. I will not believe, but
that there is a combination among you to take my life."
Every one protested his innocence more strenuously than another.
The abbot was seized; and said, in his justification, "That he would
show his majesty the set of wine from which he had ordered Ralpho to
bring it, and he was willing to drink a share of any bottle of it that
they chose;" which he did.
But this did not convince the king. He sent off privately a messenger to
assemble the Border Chiefs, and bring them to his rescue--took his two
favourite hounds with him into his chamber, placed a strong guard,
counted his beads, and retired to rest.
Every means were tried next day by the nobles to dispel his majesty's
fears, and regain his confidence; and as nothing decisive could be
produced against any one, they succeeded in some degree. New
perplexities, however, continued to way-lay him, for he was throughout
his whole life the prey of witches and evil spirits; and though he
wrecked due vengeance on many, they still continued to harass him the
more.
After high mass he had retired to his chamber to meditate, when the
nobleman in waiting came in, and said, that a stranger wanted to speak
with him on some urgent business. He was introduced, and any one may
judge of the king's astonishment, when he saw that it was the identical
old man who had spoken to him on the mountain, and vanished, the day
before. The king's lip grew pale, and quivered as the stranger made his
obeisance.
"Thou herald of danger, treason, and confusion, what seekest thou again
with me?" said the king.
"I come, my liege," said he, "to seek redress for the injured, and
justice on the offenders. Your two favourite hounds came last night to
the houses of two widows in Newstead, and have carried off their two
children from their bosoms, which they have doubtlessly devoured, as no
traces of them can be found."
"Thou art a liar!" said the king, "and an inventor of lies, if not the
father of them; for these two dogs were locked up with me in my chamber
last night, and a guard placed on the door, so that what you aver is
impossible."
"I declare to your majesty," said the stranger, "by the truth of that
right hand, that I myself saw the two hounds at liberty this morning at
daylight. I saw them come along the Monk's Meadow, carrying something
across on their necks."
"It is easy to prove the falsehood of all that thou hast said," replied
the king; "and thy malicious intent shall not go unpunished."
He then called in the guards, and bade them declare before that
audacious stranger, if his two white hounds, Mooly and Scratch, were not
in his chamber all the night. The guards were mute, and looked one to
another.
"Why are you ashamed to declare the truth?" said the king to them. "Say,
were the two hounds in my chamber all night, or were they not?"
The men answered, "that the hounds were certainly out. How it came they
knew not, but that they were let in in the morning."
"There is a conspiracy among you again," said the king; "if not to
deprive your king of life, to deprive that life of every kind of quiet
and social comfort."
"I demand justice," said the stranger, "in the names of two weeping and
distracted mothers! In the name of all that is right, and held dear
among men! I demand that these two obnoxious and devouring animals be
hung upon a tree, or burnt alive before the sun go down. Then shall the
men of Scotland see that their sovereign respects their feelings and
privileges, even though they run counter to his own pleasures."
"One of these dogs saved my life last night," said the king; "and it is
very hard indeed that I should be compelled to do this. I will have
better testimony; and if I find that these children have actually been
devoured, (as most unlikely it is,) the depredators shall be punished."
The old man bowed, and was preparing to reply, when the knight in
waiting entered hastily, and told the king that there was a woman in the
outer court, crying bitterly for justice, and who was very urgent to
speak with him. The king ordered that she should be admitted, and in a
moment she stood before him, pale, shrivelled, hagard, and wild, and
altogether such a figure as one scarcely can see, or could see, without
the impression that she was scarce earthly. Her appearance was that of a
lady of quality, of great age; she had large ear-rings, a tremendous
ruff, a head-dress of a thousand intricate flutings, projecting before
and tapering upward behind, cork-heeled shoes, a low hoop, and a waist
of length and stiffness, not to be described.
"Revenge! Revenge! my lord, O king!" cried she. "I crave justice of your
majesty--justice, and nothing more. You have two hounds, that came into
my house early this morning, and have devoured, or taken away my only
daughter, my sole stay and hope in this world, and nothing is left but a
part of her garments. These dogs have some power deputed to them that is
not of thy giving, therefore grant me that I may see vengeance done upon
them, and their bodies burnt at a stake before the going down of the
sun."
"That is a true and worthy gentlewoman, my liege," said the old
stranger; "and you may take her word for whatever she advances."
The ancient dame turned about--stared on the stranger with wild
astonishment--dropped a low courtesy, and then said, "I crave you
pardon, my lord and master. I noted not that you were so nigh. I hope
your errand here coincides with mine."
"It does," said he; "there are more sufferers than one; and, by the head
that bows to thee!--I swear by none greater--we shall have justice if it
be in the land!"
"This is a combination," said the king; "I pay no regard to it. Bring
witnesses to establish your charges, and you shall have justice done."
They went forth to bring their proof, and behold they had them all in
the outer court. In the mean time the king sent for some men of the
place to come, and made enquiry of them who the old dame was, and what
was the character that she bore. They informed him that she was a noted
witch, and kept the whole country in terror and turmoil, and that she
had indeed an only daughter, who was an impious and malevolent minx,
devoted to every species of wickedness.
"The wrinkled beldame shall be burnt at the stake," said the king. "It
is proper that the land should be cleansed of these disturbers of its
peace; as for that old stranger, I have my own surmises concerning him,
and we shall find a way to deal with his subtilty."
He then sent for a reverend old friar of the name of Rubely, who was
well versed in all the minutiæ of diablery and exorcism, whose skill had
often been beneficial to the king in the trying and intricate parts of
his duty that related to these matters, and with him he conferred on
this important subject. Father Rubely desired the king to defer the
further examination of these people for a very little while; and, in the
mean time, he brought in a basin of holy water, consecrated seven times,
and set apart for sacred uses, after which the examination went on, and
a curious one it was. The old witch lady deposed, "That as she was lying
pondering on her bed, and wide awake, about the dawn of the morning, she
heard a curious and uncommon noise somewhere about the house: That,
rising, she went out silently to discover what it could be, and to her
utter astonishment, beheld the king's two hounds, Mooly and Scratch,
spring from her daughter's casement, and in a short space a beautiful
roe-deer followed them and bounded away to the Eildons: That she hasted
to her daughter's apartment, and found that her darling was gone." The
stories of the other two were exactly similar to one another, only that
the one blamed one hound, and the other the other. It was as follows: "I
was lying awake in the morning very early, with my son in my arms, when
one of the king's hounds came into my house. I saw it, and wist not how
it had got there. A short time after I heard it making a strange
scraping and noise in the other end of the house, on which I arose to
turn it out; but on going to the place from whence the sound seemed to
come, I found nothing. I searched all the house, and called the hound by
her name, but still could find nothing; and at last I lighted a candle
and sought all the house over again, without being able to discover any
traces of her. I went back to return to my bed, wondering greatly what
had become of the animal; but having opened the door before to let her
make her escape, I conceived that she had stolen off without my having
perceived it. At that very instant, however, I beheld her coming softly
out of the bed where I had left my child, and in a moment she was out at
the door and away. I ran to the bed with the light in my hand, but my
dear child was gone, and no part, not even a palm of his hand,
remaining!"
_Ques._ "Was there any blood in the bed, or any symptoms of the child
having been devoured?"
_A._ "No; I could discover none."
_Q._ "Did the hound appear to have any thing carrying in her mouth, or
otherwise, when she escaped from the house?"
_A._ "No; I did not notice that she had any thing."
_Q._ "Was there any thing else in the house at the time; any other
appearance that you could not account for?"
_A._ "Yes; there was something like a leveret followed her out at the
door, but I paid no regard to it."
_Q._ "Was the child baptized in a Christian church?" (No answer.)
_Q._ "Were you yourself ever baptized in a Christian church?" (No
answer.)
_Q._ "Why do you not answer to these things?"
_A._ "Because I see no connection that they have with the matter in
question."
"None in the least," said the old stranger, who still kept by their
side.
When the king heard that the answers of the two women were so exactly
similar, though the one was examined before the other was brought in, he
said,--"This is some infernal combination; they are all of them witches,
and their friend there is some warlock or wizard; and they shall all be
burnt at the stake together before the going down of the sun."
"It is a judgment worthy of such a monarch," said the stranger.
"Father Rubely," said the king, "you who know all the men in this part
of my dominions, Do you know any thing of this old man, who refuseth to
give account of himself?"
"I have often seen the face," said Rubely; "but I cannot tell at present
from whence he is.--Pray, sir, are you not he who has supplied the
monastery with cattle for these many moons?"
"I am the same," said the stranger; "And were they not the best that
ever were furnished to the Abbey?"
"They were," said Rubely.
"Were they not exquisite and delicious above all food ever before
tasted?" said the old man.
"They were indeed," said Rubely; "and I think I have heard it reported
that no one ever knew from whence you brought these cattle."
"I knew myself," said the stranger, "and that was sufficient for me."
"I have heard of this before," said the king, "and I think I divine
something of the matter. Tell me, I insist on it, from whence you
brought these cattle?"
"I brought them from among the poor and the indigent," said the old man,
"on whom kings and priests for ever feed. For Christian carrion, I
provide food from among themselves."
"They shall all be worried and burnt at the stake," said the king; "and
this man's torments shall be doubled."
"Have patience, my lord, O king," said Rubely, "and let us not destroy
the reclaimable with those of whom there is no hope." Then going near to
the first woman who had lost her son, he said to her,--"It is better to
do well late than never--are you content to be baptized even now?"
The woman bowed consent. He put the same question to the other, who
bowed likewise. The old man stood close by their side, and appeared to
be in great trouble and wrath. Rubely brought his goblet of consecrated
water, and, as he past, he threw a portion of it on the wrinkled face of
the old man, pronouncing, at the same time, the sacred words of baptism.
The whole form and visage of the creature was changed in a moment to
that of a furious fiend: He uttered a yell that made all the Abbey shake
to its foundations, and forthwith darted away into the air, wrapt in
flame; and, as he ascended, he heaved his right hand, and shook his
fiery locks at his inquisitors. The old withered beldame yelped forth
hysteric gigglings, something between laughing and shrieks--the king
fell on his knees, clasped the rood and kissed it--the two women
trembled--and even old Rubely counted his beads, and stood for a short
space in mute astonishment. He next proposed trying the same experiment
with the old witch lady, but she resisted it so furiously, with cursing
and blasphemy, that they abandoned her to her fate, and had her burnt
at St Miles's Cross before the going down of the sun. It was said by
some that the old stranger appeared among the crowd to witness her
latter end; and that she stretched out her hands towards him, with loud
supplications, but he only flouted and mocked at her, and seemed to
enjoy the sport with great zest. When Father Rubely heard of this, he
said that it would happen so to every one who sold themselves to be
slaves of sin in the hour of their extremity.
The other two women confessed their sins, and received absolution. They
acknowledged that they had been acquainted with the stranger for a long
season; that he had often pressed them to sign and seal, which they had
always declined, but that nevertheless he had such an influence over
them, that he in a manner led them as he pleased; that at first they
took him for a venerable apostle, but at length discovered that he was a
powerful sorcerer, and could turn people into the shapes of such beasts
as he pleased, but that they never knew he was the devil till then.
Friar Rubely assured them, that it was only such as slighted
church-ordinances over whom he was permitted to exert that power, and in
this the king passionately acquiesced. They confessed farther, that they
were still greatly afraid of him, for that he could turn himself into
any shape or form that he pleased; that he had often tempted them in the
form of a beautiful young man; and there was nothing more common with
him than to tempt men in the form of a lovely and bewitching woman, by
which means he had of late got many of them into his clutches. When the
king heard that, he counted his beads with redoubled fervency, and again
kissed the rood, for it reminded him of a lovely vision he had seen of
late, as well as some things of a former day. The women added, that the
stranger had of late complained grievously of two mongrel spirits, who
had opposed and counteracted him in every movement; and that they had
done it so effectually, that, for every weak Christian that he had
overcome and devoured, they had found means to destroy one of his
servants, or emissaries, so that his power in the land remained much
upon a par as in former times, although his means and exertions had both
been increased sevenfold.[1]
A consultation of holy men was next called, and measures adopted for the
recovery of the two children. There it was resolved, that prayers should
be offered up for them in seven times seven holy chapels and cells at
the same instant of time, and the like number of masses said, with all
due solemnity; and that then it would be out of the power of all the
spirits of the infernal regions--all of them that were permitted to
roam the earth, or any of their agents, to detain the children longer,
into whatever shape or form they might change them. But for these
solemnities some delay was necessary.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 1: From several parts of this traditionary tale it would
appear, that it is a floating fragment of some ancient allegorical
romance, the drift of which it is not easy to comprehend.]