The ground which they traversed was, as Lady Augusta could feel, very
broken and uneven, and sometimes, as she thought, encumbered with
ruins, which were difficult to surmount. The strength of her comrade
assisted her forward on such occasions; but his help was so roughly
administered, that the lady once or twice, in fear or suffering, was
compelled to groan or sigh heavily, whatever was her desire to suppress
such evidence of the apprehension which she underwent, or the pain
which she endured. Presently, upon an occasion of this kind, she was
distinctly sensible that the rough woodsman was removed from her side,
and another of the party substituted in his stead, whose voice, more
gentle than that of his companions, she thought she had lately heard.
"Noble lady," were the words, "fear not the slightest injury at our
hands, and accept of my ministry instead of that of my henchman, who
has gone forward with our letter; do not think me presuming on my
situation if I bear you in my arms through ruins where you could not
easily move alone and blindfold."
At the same time the Lady Augusta Berkely felt herself raised from the
earth in the strong arms of a man, and borne onward with the utmost
gentleness, without the necessity of making those painful exertions
which had been formerly required. She was ashamed of her situation;
but, however delicate, it was no time to give vent to complaints, which
might have given offence to persons whom it was her interest to
conciliate. She, therefore, submitted to necessity, and heard the
following words whispered in her ear.
"Fear nothing; there is no evil intended you; nor shall Sir John de
Walton, if he loves you as you deserve at his hand, receive any harm on
our part. We call on him but to do justice to ourselves and to you; and
be assured you will best accomplish your own happiness by aiding our
views, which are equally in favour of your wishes and your freedom."
The Lady Augusta would have made some answer to this, but her breath,
betwixt fear and the speed with which she was transported, refused to
permit her to use intelligible accents. Meantime she began to be
sensible that she was enclosed within some building, and probably a
ruinous one--for although the mode of her transportation no longer
permitted her to ascertain the nature of her path in any respect
distinctly, yet the absence of the external air--which was, however,
sometimes excluded, and sometimes admitted in furious gusts--intimated
that she was conducted through buildings partly entire, and in other
places admitting the wind through wide rents and gaps. In one place it
seemed to the lady as if she passed through a considerable body of
people, all of whom observed silence, although there was sometimes
heard among them a murmur, to which every one present in some degree
contributed, although the general sound did not exceed a whisper. Her
situation made her attend to every circumstance, and she did not fail
to observe that these persons made way for him who bore her, until at
length she became sensible that he descended by the regular steps of a
stair, and that she was now alone excepting his company. Arrived, as it
appeared to the lady, on more level ground, they proceeded on their
singular road by a course which appeared neither direct nor easy, and
through an atmosphere which was close to a smothering degree, and felt
at the same time damp and disagreeable, as if from the vapours of a
new-made grave. Her guide again spoke.
"Bear up, Lady Augusta, for a little longer, and continue to endure
that atmosphere which must be one day common to us all. By the
necessity of my situation, I must resign my present office to your
original guide, and can only give you my assurance, that neither he,
nor any one else, shall offer you the least incivility or insult--and
on this you may rely, on the faith of a man of honour."
He placed her, as he said these words, upon the soft turf, and, to her
infinite refreshment, made her sensible that she was once more in the
open air, and free from the smothering atmosphere which had before
oppressed her like that of a charnel-house. At the same time, she
breathed in a whisper an anxious wish that she might be permitted to
disencumber herself from the folds of the mantle which excluded almost
the power of breathing, though intended only to prevent her seeing by
what road she travelled. She immediately found it unfolded, agreeably
to her request, and hastened, with uncovered eyes, to take note of the
scene around her.
It was overshadowed by thick oak trees, among which stood some remnants
of buildings, or what might have seemed such, being perhaps the same in
which she had been lately wandering. A clear fountain of living water
bubbled forth from under the twisted roots of one of those trees, and
offered the lady the opportunity of a draught of the pure element, and
in which she also bathed her face, which had received more than one
scratch in the course of her journey, in spite of the care, and almost
the tenderness, with which she had latterly been borne along. The cool
water speedily stopt the bleeding of those trifling injuries, and the
application served at the same time to recall the scattered senses of
the damsel herself. Her first idea was, whether an attempt to escape,
if such should appear possible, was not advisable. A moment's
reflection, however, satisfied her that such a scheme was not to be
thought of; and such second thoughts were confirmed by the approach of
the gigantic form of the huntsman Turnbull, the rough tones of whose
voice were heard before his figure was obvious to her eye.
"Were you impatient for my return, fair lady? Such as I," he continued
in an ironical tone of voice, "who are foremost in the chase of wild
stags and silvan cattle, are not in use to lag behind, when fair
ladies, like you, are the objects of pursuit; and if I am not so
constant in my attendance as you might expect, believe me, it is
because I was engaged in another matter, to which I must sacrifice for
a little even the duty of attending on you."
"I offer no resistance," said the lady; "forbear, however, in
discharging thy duty, to augment my uneasiness by thy conversation, for
thy master hath pledged me his word that he will not suffer me to be
alarmed or ill treated."
"Nay, fair one," replied the huntsman, "I ever thought it was fit to
make interest by soft words with fair ladies; but if you like it not, I
have no such pleasure in hunting for fine holyday terms, but that I can
with equal ease hold myself silent. Come, then, since we must wait upon
this lover of yours ere morning closes, and learn his last resolution
touching a matter which is become so strangely complicated, I will hold
no more intercourse with you as a female, but talk to you as a person
of sense, although an Englishwoman."
"You will," replied the lady, "best fulfil the intentions of those by
whose orders you act, by holding no society with me whatever, otherwise
than is necessary in the character of guide."
The man lowered his brows, yet seemed to assent to what the Lady of
Berkely proposed, and remained silent as they for some time pursued
their course, each pondering over their own share of meditation, which
probably turned upon matters essentially different. At length the loud
blast of a bugle was heard at no great distance from the unsocial
fellow-travellers.
"That is the person we seek," said Turnbull; "I know his blast from any
other who frequents this forest, and my orders are to bring you to
speech of him."
The blood darted rapidly through the lady's veins at the thought of
being thus unceremoniously presented to the knight, in whose favour she
had confessed a rash preference more agreeable to the manners of those
times, when exaggerated sentiments often inspired actions of
extravagant generosity, than in our days, when every thing is accounted
absurd which does not turn upon a motive connected with the immediate
selfish interests of the actor himself. When Turnbull, therefore,
winded his horn, as if in answer to the blast which they had heard, the
lady was disposed to fly at the first impulse of shame and of fear.
Turnbull perceived her intention, and caught hold of her with no very
gentle grasp, saying--"Nay, lady, it is to be understood that you play
your own part in the drama, which, unless you continue on the stage,
will conclude unsatisfactorily to us all, in a combat at outrance
between your lover and me, when it will appear which of us is most
worthy of your favour."
"I will be patient," said the lady, bethinking her that even this
strange man's presence, and the compulsion which he appeared to use
towards her, was a sort of excuse to her female scruples, for coming
into the presence of her lover, at least at her first appearance before
him, in a disguise which her feelings confessed was not extremely
decorous, or reconcilable to the dignity of her sex.
The moment after these thoughts had passed through her mind, the tramp
of a horse was heard approaching; and Sir John de Walton, pressing
through the trees, became aware of the presence of his lady, captive,
as it seemed, in the grasp of a Scottish outlaw, who was only known to
him by his former audacity at the hunting-match.
His surprise and joy only supplied the knight with those hasty
expressions--"Caitiff, let go thy hold! or die in thy profane attempt
to control the motions of one whom the very sun in heaven should be
proud to obey." At the same time, apprehensive that the huntsman might
hurry the lady from his sight by means of some entangled path--such as
upon a former occasion had served him for escape Sir John de Walton
dropt his cumbrous lance, of which the trees did not permit him the
perfect use, and springing from his horse, approached Turnbull with his
drawn sword.
The Scotchman, keeping his left hand still upon the lady's mantle,
uplifted with his right his battle-axe, or Jedwood staff, for the
purpose of parrying and returning the blow of his antagonist, but the
lady spoke.
"Sir John de Walton," she said, "for heaven's sake, forbear all
violence, till you hear upon what pacific object I am brought hither,
and by what peaceful means these wars may be put an end to. This man,
though an enemy of yours, has been to me a civil and respectful
guardian; and I entreat you to forbear him while he speaks the purpose
for which he has brought me hither."
"To speak of compulsion and the Lady de Berkely in the same breath,
would itself be cause enough for instant death," said the Governor of
Douglas Castle; "but you command, lady, and I spare his insignificant
life, although I have causes of complaint against him, the least of
which were good warrant, had he a thousand lives, for the forfeiture of
them all."
"John de Walton," replied Turnbull, "this lady well knows that no fear
of thee operates in my mind to render this a peaceful meeting; and were
I not withheld by other circumstances of great consideration to the
Douglas as well as thyself, I should have no more fear in facing the
utmost thou couldst do, than I have now in levelling that sapling to
the earth it grows upon."
So saying, Michael Turnbull raised his battle-axe, and struck from a
neighbouring oak-tree a branch, wellnigh as thick as a man's arm, which
(with all its twigs and leaves) rushed to the ground between De Walton
and the Scotchman, giving a singular instance of the keenness of his
weapon, and the strength and dexterity with which he used it.
"Let there be truce, then, between us, good fellow," said Sir John de
Walton, "since it is the lady's pleasure that such should be the case,
and let me know what thou hast to say to me respecting her?"
"On that subject," said Turnbull, "my words are few, but mark them, Sir
Englishman. The Lady Augusta Berkely, wandering in this country, has
become a prisoner of the noble Lord Douglas, the rightful inheritor of
the Castle and lordship, and he finds himself obliged to attach to the
liberty of this lady the following conditions, being in all respects
such as good and lawful warfare entitles a knight to exact. That is to
say, in all honour and safety the Lady Augusta shall be delivered to
Sir John de Walton, or those whom he shall name, for the purpose of
receiving her. On the other hand, the Castle of Douglas itself,
together with all out-posts or garrisons thereunto belonging, shall be
made over and surrendered by Sir John de Walton, in the same situation,
and containing the same provisions and artillery, as are now within
their walls; and the space of a month of truce shall be permitted to
Sir James Douglas and Sir John de Walton farther to regulate the terms
of surrender on both parts, having first plighted their knightly word
and oath, that in the exchange of the honourable lady for the foresaid
castle, lies the full import of the present agreement, and that every
other subject of dispute shall, at the pleasure of the noble knights
foresaid, be honourably compounded and agreed betwixt them; or at their
pleasure, settled knightly by single combat according to usage, and in
a fair field, before any honourable person, that may possess power
enough to preside."
It is not easy to conceive the astonishment of Sir John de Walton at
hearing the contents of this extraordinary cartel; he looked towards
the Lady of Berkely with that aspect of despair with which a criminal
may be supposed to see his guardian angel prepare for departure.
Through her mind also similar ideas flowed, as if they contained a
concession of what she had considered as the summit of her wishes, but
under conditions disgraceful to her lover, like the cherub's fiery
sword of yore, which was a barrier between our first parents and the
blessings of Paradise. Sir John de Walton, after a moment's hesitation,
broke silence in these words:--
"Noble lady, you may be surprised if a condition be imposed upon me,
having for its object your freedom; and if Sir John de Walton, already
standing under those obligations to you, which he is proud of
acknowledging, should yet hesitate on accepting, with the utmost
eagerness, what must ensure your restoration to freedom and
independence; but so it is, that the words now spoken have thrilled in
mine ear without reaching to my understanding, and I must pray the Lady
of Berkely for pardon if I take time to reconsider them for a short
space."
"And I," replied Turnbull, "have only power to allow you half an hour
for the consideration of an offer, in accepting which, methinks, you
should jump shoulder-height instead of asking any time for reflection.
What does this cartel exact, save what your duty as a knight implicitly
obliges you to? You have engaged yourself to become the agent of the
tyrant Edward, in holding Douglas Castle, as his commander, to the
prejudice of the Scottish nation, and of the Knight of Douglas Dale,
who never, as a community or as an individual, were guilty of the least
injury towards you; you are therefore prosecuting a false path,
unworthy of a good knight. On the other hand, the freedom and safety of
your lady is now proposed to be pledged to you, with a full assurance
of her liberty and honour, on consideration of your withdrawing from
the unjust line of conduct, in which you have suffered yourself to be
imprudently engaged. If you persevere in it, you place your own honour,
and the lady's happiness, in the hands of men whom you have done
everything in your power to render desperate, and whom, thus irritated,
it is most probable you may find such."
"It is not from thee at least," said the knight, "that I shall learn to
estimate the manner in which Douglas will explain the laws of war, or
De Walton receive them at his dictating."
"I am not, then," said Turnbull, "received as a friendly messenger?
Farewell, and think of this lady as being in any hands but those which
are safe, while you make up at leisure your mind upon the message I
have brought you. Come, madam, we must be gone."
So saying, he seized upon the lady's hand, and pulled her, as if to
force her to withdraw. The lady had stood motionless, and almost
senseless, while these speeches were exchanged between the warriors;
but when she felt the grasp of Michael Turnbull, she exclaimed, like
one almost beside herself with fear--"Help me, De Walton!"
The knight, stung to instant rage, assaulted the forester with the
utmost fury, and dealt him with his long sword, almost at unawares, two
or three heavy blows, by which he was so wounded that he sunk backwards
in the thicket, and. De Walton was about to despatch him, when he was
prevented by the anxious cry of the lady--"Alas! De Walton, what have
you done? This man was only an ambassador, and should have passed free
from injury, while he confined himself to the delivery of what he was
charged with; and if thou hast slain him, who knows how frightful may
prove the vengeance exacted!"
The voice of the lady seemed to recover the huntsman from the effects
of the blows he had received: he sprung on his feet, saying--"Never
mind me, nor think of my becoming the means of making mischief. The
knight, in his haste, spoke without giving me warning and defiance,
which gave him an advantage which, I think, he would otherwise have
scorned to have taken, in such a case, I will renew the combat on
fairer terms, or call another champion, as the knight pleases." With
these words he disappeared.
"Fear not, empress of De Walton's thoughts," answered the knight, "but
believe, that if we regain together the shelter of Douglas Castle, and
the safeguard of Saint George's Cross, thou may'st laugh at all. And if
you can but pardon, what I shall never be able to forgive myself, the
mole-like blindness which did not recognise the sun while under a
temporary eclipse, the task cannot be named too hard for mortal valour
to achieve which I shall not willingly undertake, to wipe out the
memory of my grievous fault."
"Mention it no more," said the lady; "it is not at such a time
as--this, when our lives are for the moment at stake, that quarrels
upon slighter topics are to be recurred to. I can tell you, if you do
not yet know, that the Scots are in arms in this vicinity, and that
even the earth has yawned to conceal them from the sight of your
garrison."
"Let it yawn, then," said Sir John de Walton, "and suffer every fiend
in the infernal abyss to escape from his prison-house and reinforce our
enemies--still, fairest, having received in thee a pearl of matchless
price, my spurs shall be hacked from my heels by the basest scullion,
if I turn my horse's head to the rear before the utmost force these
ruffians can assemble, either upon earth or from underneath it. In thy
name I defy them all to instant combat."
As Sir John de Walton pronounced these last words, in something of an
exalted tone, a tall cavalier, arrayed in black armour of the simplest
form, stepped forth from that part of the thicket where Turnbull had
disappeared. "I am," he said, "James of Douglas, and your challenge is
accepted. I, the challenged, name the arms our knightly weapons as we
now wear them, and our place of combat this field or dingle, called the
Bloody Sykes, the time being instant, and the combatants, like true
knights, foregoing each advantage on either side." [Footnote: The
ominous name of Bloodmire-sink or Syke, marks a narrow hollow to the
north-west of Douglas Castle, from which it is distant about the third
of a mile. Mr. Haddow states, that according to local tradition, the
name was given in consequence of Sir James Douglas having at this spot
intercepted and slain part of the garrison of the castle, while De
Walton was in command.]
"So be it, in God's name," said the English knight, who, though
surprised at being called upon to so sudden an encounter with so
formidable a warrior as young Douglas, was too proud to dream of
avoiding the combat. Making a sign to the lady to retire behind him,
that he might not lose the advantage which he had gained by setting her
at liberty from the forester, he drew his sword, and with a deliberate
and prepared attitude of offence, moved slowly to the encounter. It was
a dreadful one, for the courage and skill both of the native Lord of
Douglas Dale, and of De Walton, among the most renowned of the times,
and perhaps the world of chivalry could hardly have produced two
knights more famous. Their blows fell as if urged by some mighty
engine, where they were met and parried with equal strength and
dexterity; nor seemed it likely, in the course of ten minutes'
encounter, that an advantage would be gained by either combatant over
the other. An instant they stopped by mutually implied assent, as it
seemed, for the purpose of taking breath, during which Douglas said, "I
beg that this noble lady may understand, that her own freedom is no way
concerned in the present contest, which entirely regards the injustice
done by this Sir John de Walton, and by his nation of England, to the
memory of my father, and to my own natural rights."
"You are generous, Sir Knight," replied the lady; "but in what
circumstances do you place me, if you deprive me of my protector by
death or captivity, and leave me alone in a foreign land?"
"If such should be the event of the combat," replied Sir James, "the
Douglas himself, lady, will safely restore thee to thy native land; for
never did his sword do an injury for which he was not willing to make
amends with the same weapon; and if Sir John de Walton will make the
slightest admission that he renounces maintaining the present strife,
were it only by yielding up a feather from the plume of his helmet,
Douglas will renounce every purpose on his part which can touch the
lady's honour or safety, and the combat may be suspended until the
national quarrel again brings us together."
Sir John de Walton pondered a moment, and the lady, although she did
not speak, looked at him with eyes which plainly expressed how much she
wished that he would choose the less hazardous alternative. But the
knight's own scruples prevented his bringing the case to so favourable
an arbitrement.
"Never shall it be said of Sir John de Walton," he replied, "that he
compromised, in the slightest degree, his own honour, or that of his
country. This battle may end in my defeat, or rather death, and in that
case my earthly prospects are closed, and I resign to Douglas, with my
last breath, the charge of the Lady Augusta, trusting that he will
defend her with his life, and find the means of replacing her with
safety in the halls of her fathers. But while I survive, she may have a
better, but will not need another protector than he who is honoured by
being her own choice; nor will I yield up, were it a plume from my
helmet, implying that I have maintained an unjust quarrel, either in
the cause of England, or of the fairest of her daughters. Thus far
alone I will concede to Douglas--an instant truce, provided the lady
shall not be interrupted in her retreat to England, and the combat be
fought out upon another day. The castle and territory of Douglas is the
property of Edward of England, the governor in his name is the rightful
governor, and on this point I will fight while my eyelids are unclosed."
"Time flies," said Douglas, "without waiting for our resolves; nor is
there any part of his motions of such value as that which is passing
with every breath of vital air which we presently draw. Why should we
adjourn till to-morrow that which can be as well finished today? Will
our swords be sharper, or our arms stronger to wield them, than they
are at this moment? Douglas will do all which knight can do to succour
a lady in distress; but he will not grant to her knight the slightest
mark of deference, which Sir John de Walton vainly supposes himself
able to extort by force of arms."
With these words, the knights engaged once more in mortal combat, and
the lady felt uncertain whether she should attempt her escape through
the devious paths of the wood, or abide the issue of this obstinate
fight. It was rather her desire to see the fate of Sir John de Walton,
than any other consideration, which induced her to remain, as if
fascinated, upon the spot, where one of the fiercest quarrels ever
fought--was disputed by two of the bravest champions that ever drew
sword. At last the lady attempted to put a stop to the combat, by
appealing to the bells which began to ring for the service of the day,
which was Palm Sunday.
"For Heaven's sake," she said--"for your own sakes, and for that of
lady's love, and the duties of chivalry, hold your hands only for an
hour, and take chance, that where strength is so equal, means will be
found of converting the truce into a solid peace. Think this is Palm
Sunday, and will you defile with blood such a peculiar festival of
Christianity! Intermit your feud at least so far as to pass to the
nearest church, bearing with you branches, not in the ostentatious mode
of earthly conquerors, but as rendering due homage to the rules of the
blessed Church, and the institutions of our holy religion."
"I was on my road, fair lady, for that purpose, to the holy church of
Douglas," said the Englishman, "when I was so fortunate as to meet you
at this place; nor do I object to proceed thither even, now, holding
truce for an hour, and I fear not to find there friends to whom I can
commit you with assurance of safety, in case I am unfortunate in the
combat which is now broken off, to be resumed after the service of the
day."
"I also assent," said the Douglas, "to a truce for such short space;
nor do I fear that there may be good Christians enough at the church,
who will not see their master overpowered by odds. Let us go thither,
and each take the chance of what Heaven shall please to send us."
From these words Sir John de Walton little doubted that Douglas had
assured himself of a party among those who should there assemble; but
he doubted not of so many of the garrison being present as would bridle
every attempt at rising; and the risk, he thought, was worth incurring,
since ha should thereby secure an opportunity to place Lady Augusta de
Berkely in safety, at least so far as to make her liberty depend on the
event of a general conflict, instead of the precarious issue of a
combat between himself and Douglas.
Both these distinguished knights were inwardly of opinion, that the
proposal of the lady, though it relieved them from their present
conflict, by no means bound them to abstain from the consequences which
an accession of force might add to their general strength, and each
relied upon his superiority, in some degree provided for by their
previous proceedings. Sir John de Walton made almost certain of meeting
with several of his bands of soldiers, who were scouring the country
and traversing the woods by his direction; and Douglas, it may be
supposed, had not ventured himself in person, where a price was set
upon his head, without being attended by a sufficient number of
approved adherents, placed in more or less connexion with each other,
and stationed for mutual support. Each, therefore, entertained
well-grounded hopes, that by adopting the truce proposed, he would
ensure himself an advantage over his antagonist, although neither
exactly knew in what manner or to what extent this success was to be
obtained.