"Ay!" interrupted Home, "the enemy of our house, the creature of our
hands, whom we lifted from exile to sovereignty, and who now with his
minions tracks our path like a bloodhound! What of this gracious Regent?
Are ye, too, one of his myrmidons, and seek ye to strike the lion in his
den?"
"Nay," answered the other; "but from childhood the faithful retainer of
your murdered kinsman."
"My murdered kinsman!" exclaimed Wedderburn, grasping the arm of the
other. "What! more blood! more! What mean ye, stranger?"
"That, to gratify the revenge of the Regent Albany," replied the other,
"my lord Home and your kinsman William have been betrayed and murdered.
Calumny has blasted their honour. Twelve hours ago I beheld their heads
tossed like footballs by the foot of the common executioner, and
afterwards fixed over the porch of the Nether Bow, for the execration
and indignities of the slaves of Albany. All day the blood of the Homes
has dropped upon the pavement, where the mechanic and the clown pass
over and tread on it."
"Hold!" cried Home, and the dreary hall echoed with his voice. "No
more!" he continued; and he paced hurriedly for a few minutes across the
apartment, casting a rapid glance upon the portraits of his ancestors.
"By heavens! they chide me," he exclaimed, "that my sword sleeps in the
scabbard, while the enemies of the house of Home triumph." He drew his
sword, and approaching the picture of his father, he pressed the weapon
to his lips, and continued, "By the soul of my ancestors, I swear upon
this blade, that the proud Albany and his creatures shall feel that one
Home still lives!" He dashed the weapon back into its sheath, and
approaching the stranger, drew him towards the lamp, and said, "Ye are
Trotter, who was my cousin's henchman, are ye not?"
"The same," replied the messenger.
"And ye come to rouse me to revenge?" added Sir David. "Ye shall have
it, man--revenge that shall make the Regent weep--revenge that the four
corners of the earth shall hear of, and history record. Ye come to
remind me that my father and my brother fell on the field of Flodden, in
defence of a foolish king, and that I, too, bled there--that there also
lie the bones of my kinsman, Cuthbert of Fastcastle, of my brother
Cockburn and his son, and the father and brother of my Alison. Ye come
to remind me of this; and that, as a reward for the shedding of our
blood, the head of the chief of our house has been fixed upon the gate
of Edinburgh as food for the carrion crow and the night owl! Go, get
thee refreshment, Trotter; then go to rest, and dream of other heads
exalted, as your late master's is, and I will be the interpreter of your
visions."
Trotter bowed and withdrew, and Lady Alison entered the apartment.
"Ye are agitated, husband," said the gentle lady, laying her hand upon
his; "hath the man brought evil tidings?"
"Can good tidings come to a Home," answered Sir David, "while the tyrant
Albany rides rough-shod over the nobility of Scotland, and, like a
viper, stings the bosom that nursed him? Away to thy chamber, Alison;
leave me, it is no tale for woman's ears."
"Nay, if you love me, tell me," she replied, laying her hand upon his
brow, "for since your return from the field of Flodden, I have not seen
you look thus."
"This is no time to talk of love, Aley," added he. "But come, leave me,
silly one, it concerns not thee; no evil hath overtaken the house of
Blackadder, but the Homes have become a mark for the arrows of
desolation, and their necks a footstool for tyrants. Away, Alison;
to-night I can think of but one word, and that is--vengeance!"
Lady Alison wept, and withdrew in silence; and Wedderburn paced the
floor of the gloomy hall, meditating in what manner he should most
effectually resent the death of his kinsman.
It was only a few weeks after the execution of the Earl of Home and his
brother, that the Regent Albany offered an additional insult to his
family by appointing Sir Anthony D'Arcy warden of the east marches, an
office which the Homes had held for ages. D'Arcy was a Frenchman, and
the favourite of the Regent; and, on account of the comeliness of his
person, obtained the appellation of the _Sieur de la Beauté_. The
indignation of Wedderburn had not slumbered, and the conferring the
honours and the power that had hitherto been held by his family upon a
foreigner, incensed him to almost madness. For a time, however, no
opportunity offered of causing his resentment to be felt; for D'Arcy was
as much admired for the discretion and justice of his government as for
the beauty of his person. To his care the Regent had committed young
Cockburn, the heir of Langton, who was the nephew of Wedderburn. This
the Homes felt as a new indignity, and, together with the Cockburns,
they forcibly ejected from Langton Castle the tutors whom D'Arcy had
placed over their kinsman. The tidings of this event were brought to the
Chevalier while he was holding a court at Kelso; and immediately
summoning together his French retainers and a body of yeomen, he
proceeded with a gay and a gallant company by way of Fogo to Langton.
His troop drew up in front of the castle, and their gay plumes and
burnished trappings glittered in the sun. The proud steed of the
Frenchman was covered with a panoply of gold and silver, and he himself
was decorated as for a bridal. He rode haughtily to the gate, and
demanded the inmates of the castle to surrender.
"Surrender! boasting Gaul!" replied William Cockburn, the uncle of the
young laird; "that is a word the men of Merse have yet to learn. But
yonder comes my brother Wedderburn; speak it to him."
D'Arcy turned round, and beheld Sir David Home and a party of horsemen
bearing down upon them at full speed. The Chevalier drew back, and
waiting their approach, placed himself at the head of his company.
"By the mass! Sir Warden," said Sir David, riding up to D'Arcy, "and ye
have brought a goodly company to visit my nephew. Come ye in peace, or
what may be your errand?"
"I wish peace," replied the Chevalier, "and come to enforce the
establishment of my rights; why do you interfere between me and my
ward?"
"Does a Frenchman talk of his rights upon the lands of Home?" returned
Sir David; "or by whose authority is my nephew your ward?"
"By the authority of the Regent, rebel Scot!" retorted D'Arcy.
"By the authority of the Regent!" interrupted Wedderburn; "dare ye,
foreign minion, speak of the authority of the murderer of the Earl of
Home, while within the reach of the sword of his kinsman?"
"Ay! and in his teeth dare tell him," replied the Chevalier, "that the
Home now before me is not less a traitor than he who proved false to his
sovereign on the field of Flodden, who conspired against the Regent, and
whose head now adorns the port of Edinburgh."
"Wretch!" exclaimed the henchman Trotter, dashing forward, and raising
his sword, "said ye that my master proved false at Flodden?"
"Hold!" exclaimed Wedderburn, grasping his arm. "Gramercy, ye
uncivilised dog! for the sake of your master's head would ye lift your
hand against that face which ladies die to look upon? Pardon me, most
beautiful Chevalier! the salutation of my servant may be too rough for
your French palate, but you and your master treated my kinsman somewhat
more roughly. What say ye, Sir Warden? do ye depart in peace, or wish ye
that we should try the temper of our Border steel upon your French
bucklers?"
"Depart ye in peace, vain boaster," replied D'Arcy, "lest a worse thing
befall you."
"Then on, my merry men!" cried Wedderburn, "and to-day the head of the
Regent's favourite, the Chevalier of Beauty, for the head of the Earl of
Home!"
"The house of Home and revenge!" shouted his followers, and rushed upon
the armed band of D'Arcy. At first the numbers were nearly equal, and
the contest was terrible. Each man fought hand to hand, and the ground
was contested inch by inch. The gilded ornaments of the French horses
were covered with blood, and their movements were encumbered by their
weight. The sword of Wedderburn had already smitten three of the
Chevalier's followers to the ground, and the two chiefs now contended in
single combat. D'Arcy fought with the fury of despair, but Home
continued to bear upon him as a tiger that has been robbed of its cubs.
Every moment the force of the Chevalier was thinned, and every instant
the number of his enemies increased, as the neighbouring peasantry
rallied round the standard of their chief. Finding the most faithful of
his followers stretched upon the earth, D'Arcy sought safety in flight.
Dashing his silver spurs into the sides of his noble steed, he turned
his back upon his desperate enemy, and rushed along in the direction of
Pouterleiny, and through Dunse, with the hope of gaining the road to
Dunbar, of which town he was governor. Fiercely Wedderburn followed at
his heels, with his naked sword uplifted, and ready to strike;
immediately behind him rode Trotter, the henchman of the late earl, and
another of Home's followers named Dickson. It was a fearful sight as
they rushed through Dunse, their horses striking fire from their heels
in the light of the very sunbeams, and the sword of the pursuer within a
few feet of the fugitive. Still the Chevalier rode furiously, urging on
the gallant animal that bore him, which seemed conscious that the life
of its rider depended upon its speed. His flaxen locks waived behind him
in the wind, and the voice of his pursuers ever and anon fell upon his
ear, like a dagger of death thrust into his bosom. The horse upon which
Wedderburn rode had been wounded in the conflict, and, as they drew near
Broomhouse, its speed slackened, and his followers, Trotter and Dickson,
took the lead in the pursuit. The Chevalier had reached a spot on the
right bank of the Whitadder, which is now in a field of the farm of
Swallowdean, when his noble steed, becoming entangled with its cumbrous
trappings, stumbled, and hurled its rider to the earth. The next moment
the swords of Trotter and Dickson were through the body of the
unfortunate Chevalier.
"Off with his head!" exclaimed Wedderburn, who at the same instant
reached the spot. The bloody mandate was readily obeyed; and Home,
taking the bleeding head in his hand, cut off the flaxen tresses, and
tied them as a trophy to his saddle-bow. The body of the _Chevalier de
la Beauté_ was rudely buried on the spot where he fell. A humble stone
marks out the scene of the tragedy, and the people in the neighbourhood
yet call it "_Bawty's Grave_." The head of the Chevalier was carried to
Dunse, where it was fixed upon a spear at the cross, and Wedderburn
exclaimed, "Thus be exalted the enemies of the house of Home!"
The bloody relic was then borne in triumph to Home Castle, and placed
upon the battlements. "There," said Sir David, "let the Regent climb
when he returns from France for the head of his favourite; it is thus
that Home of Wedderburn revenges the murder of his kindred."