IT was Fergus Mac-Ivor himself who welcomed Edward within the palace of
Holyrood, where the adventurous Prince now kept his court.
Hardly would he allow Edward even to ask news of Flora, before carrying
him off into the presence-chamber to be presented. Edward was deeply
moved by the Chevalier's grace and dignity, as well as moved by the
reception he received. The Prince praised the deeds of his ancestors,
and called upon him to emulate them. He also showed him a proclamation
in which his name was mentioned along with those of the other rebels as
guilty of high treason. Edward's heart was melted. This princely
kindness, so different from the treatment which he had received at the
hands of the English government, the direct appeal of the handsome and
gallant young Chevalier, perhaps also the thought of pleasing Flora in
the only way open to him, all overwhelmed the young man, so that, with a
sudden burst of resolve, he knelt down and devoted his life and his
sword to the cause of King James.
The Prince raised and embraced Waverley, and in a few words confided to
him that the English general, having declined battle and gone north to
Aberdeen, had brought his forces back to Dunbar by sea. Here it was the
Prince's instant intention to attack him.
Before taking leave he presented Edward with the splendid silver-hilted
sword which he wore, itself an heirloom of the Stuarts. Then he gave him
over into the hands of Fergus Mac-Ivor, who forthwith proceeded to make
Waverley into a true son of Ivor by arraying him in the tartan of the
clan, with plaid floating over his shoulder and buckler glancing upon
his arm.
Soon after came the Baron of Bradwardine, anxious about the honour of
his young friend Edward. He said that he desired to know the truth as
to the manner in which Captain Waverley had lost his commission in
Colonel Gardiner's dragoons,--so that, if he should hear his honour
called in question, he might be able to defend it,--which, no doubt, he
would have performed as stoutly and loyally as he had previously done
upon the sulky person of the Laird of Balmawhapple.
The morrow was to be a day of battle. But it was quite in keeping with
the gay character of the adventurer-prince, that the evening should be
spent in a hall in the ancient palace of Holyrood. Here Edward, in his
new full dress as a Highlander and a son of Ivor, shone as the
handsomest and the boldest of all. And this, too, in spite of the marked
coldness with which Flora treated him. But to make amends, Rose
Bradwardine, close by her friend's side, watched him with a sigh on her
lip, and colour on her cheek--yet with a sort of pride, too, that she
should have been the first to discover what a gallant and soldierly
youth he was. Jacobite or Hanoverian, she cared not. At Tully-Veolan or
at a court ball, she was equally proud of Edward Waverley.
Next morning our hero was awakened by the screaming of the warpipes
outside his bedroom, and Callum Beg, his attendant, informed him that
he would have to hurry if he wished to come up with Fergus and the Clan
Ivor, who had marched out with the Prince when the morning was yet grey.
Thus spurred, Edward proved himself no laggard. On they went, threading
their way through the ranks of the Highland army, now getting mixed up
with Balmawhapple's horsemen, who, careless of discipline, went spurring
through the throng amid the curses of the Highlanders. For the first
time Edward saw with astonishment that more than half the clansmen were
poorly armed, many with only a scythe on a pole or a sword without a
scabbard, while some for a weapon had nothing better than their dirks,
or even a stake pulled out of the hedge. Then it was that Edward, who
hitherto had only seen the finest and best armed men whom Fergus could
place in the field, began to harbour doubts as to whether this
unmilitary array could defeat a British army, and win the crown of three
kingdoms for the young Prince with whom he had rashly cast in his lot.
[Illustration: "ROSE BRADWARDINE, close by her friend's side, watched
him with a sigh on her lip, and colour on her cheek--yet with a sort of
pride, too, that she should have been the first to discover what a
gallant and soldierly youth he was."]
But his dismal and foreboding thoughts were quickly changed to pride
when whole Clan Ivor received him with a unanimous shout and the braying
of their many warpipes.
"Why," said one of a neighbouring clan, "you greet the young Sassenach
as if he were the Chief himself!"
"If he be not Bran, he is Bran's brother!" replied Evan Dhu, who was now
very grand under the name of Ensign Maccombich.
"Oh, then," replied the other, "that will doubtless be the young English
duinhé-wassel who is to be married to the Lady Flora?"
"That may be or that may not be," retorted Evan, grimly; "it is no
matter of yours or mine, Gregor."
The march continued--first by the shore toward Musselburgh and then
along the top of a little hill which looked out seaward. While marching
thus, news came that Bradwardine's horse had had a skirmish with the
enemy, and had sent in some prisoners.
Almost at the same moment from a sort of stone shed (called a sheep
smearing-house) Edward heard a voice which, as if in agony, tried to
repeat snatches of the Lord's Prayer. He stopped. It seemed as if he
knew that voice.
He entered, and found in the corner a wounded man lying very near to
death. It was no other than Houghton, the sergeant of his own troop, to
whom he had written to send him the books. At first he did not recognise
Edward in his Highland dress. But as soon as he was assured that it
really was his master who stood beside him, he moaned out, "Oh, why did
you leave us, Squire?" Then in broken accents he told how a certain
pedlar called Ruffin had shown them letters from Edward, advising them
to rise in mutiny.
"Ruffin!" said Edward, "I know nothing of any such man. You have been
vilely imposed upon, Houghton."
"Indeed," said the dying man, "I often thought so since. And we did not
believe till he showed us your very seal. So Tims was shot, and I was
reduced to the ranks."
Not long after uttering these words, poor Houghton breathed his last,
praying his young master to be kind to his old father and mother at
Waverley-Honour, and not to fight with these wild petticoat men against
old England.
The words cut Edward to the heart, but there was no time for sentiment
or regret. The army of the Prince was fast approaching the foe. The
English regiments came marching out to meet them along the open shore,
while the Highlanders took their station on the higher ground to the
south. But a morass separated the combatants, and though several
skirmishes took place on the flanks, the main fighting had to be put off
till another day. That night both sides slept on their arms, Fergus and
Waverley joining their plaids to make a couch, on which they lay, with
Callum Beg watching at their heads.
Before three, they were summoned to the presence of the Prince. They
found him giving his final directions to the chiefs. A guide had been
found who would guide the army across the morass. They would then turn
the enemy's flank, and after that the Highland yell and the Highland
claymore must do the rest.
The mist of the morning was still rolling thick through the hollow
between the armies when Clan Ivor got the word to charge. Prestonpans
was no midnight surprise. The English army, regularly ranked, stood
ready, waiting. But their cavalry, suddenly giving way, proved
themselves quite unable to withstand the furious onslaught of the
Highlanders. Edward charged with the others, and was soon in the
thickest of the fray. It happened that while fighting on the battle
line, he was able to save the life of a distinguished English officer,
who, with the hilt of his broken sword yet in his hand, stood by the
artillery from which the gunners had run away, disdaining flight and
waiting for death. The victory of the Highlanders was complete. Edward
even saw his old commander, Colonel Gardiner, struck down, yet was
powerless to save him. But long after, the reproach in the eyes of the
dying soldier haunted him. Yet it expressed more sorrow than
anger--sorrow to see him in such a place and in such a dress.
But this was soon forgotten when the prisoner he had taken, and whom the
policy of the Prince committed to his care and custody, declared himself
as none other than Colonel Talbot, his uncle's dearest and most intimate
friend. He informed Waverley that on his return from abroad he had found
both Sir Everard and his brother in custody on account of Edward's
reported treason. He had, therefore, immediately started for Scotland to
endeavour to bring back the truant. He had seen Colonel Gardiner, and
had found him, after having made a less hasty inquiry into the mutiny
of Edward's troop, much softened toward the young man. All would have
come right, concluded Colonel Talbot, had it not been for our hero's
joining openly with the rebels in their mad venture.
Edward was smitten to the heart when he heard of his uncle's sufferings,
believing that they were on his account. But he was somewhat comforted
when Colonel Talbot told him that through his influence Sir Everard had
been allowed out under heavy bail, and that Mr. Richard Waverley was
with him at Waverley-Honour.
Yet more torn with remorse was Edward when, having once more arrived in
Edinburgh, he found at last the leather valise which contained the
packet of letters Alice Bean Lean had placed among his linen. From these
he learned that Colonel Gardiner had thrice written to him, once indeed
sending the letter by one of the men of Edward's own troop, who had been
instructed by the pedlar to go back and tell the Colonel that his
officer had received them in person. Instead of being delivered to
Waverley, the letters had been given to a certain Mr. William Ruffin, or
Riven, or Ruthven, whom Waverley saw at once could be none other than
Donald Bean Lean himself. Then all at once remembering the business of
the robber cave, he understood the loss of his seal, and poor Houghton's
dying reproach that he should not have left the lads of his troop so
long by themselves.
Edward now saw clearly how in a moment of weakness he had made a great
and fatal mistake by joining with the Jacobites. But his sense of honour
was such that in spite of all Colonel Talbot could say, he would not go
back on his word. His own hastiness, the clever wiles of Fergus
Mac-Ivor, Flora's beauty, and most of all the rascality of Donald Bean
Lean had indeed brought his neck, as old Major Melville had prophesied,
within the compass of the hangman's rope.
The best Edward could now do was to send a young soldier of his troop,
who had been taken at Prestonpans, to his uncle and his father with
letters explaining all the circumstances. By Colonel Talbot's advice and
help this messenger was sent aboard one of the English vessels cruising
in the Firth, well furnished with passes which would carry him in safety
all the way to Waverley-Honour.
Still the days went by, and nothing was done. Still the Prince halted in
Edinburgh waiting for reinforcements which never came. He was always
hopeful that more clans would declare for him or that other forces would
be raised in the Lowlands or in England. And meanwhile, chiefly because
in the city there was nothing for them to do, plans and plots were being
formed. Quarrellings and jealousies became the order of the day among
the troops of the White Cockade. One morning Fergus Mac-Ivor came in to
Edward's lodgings, furious with anger because the Prince had refused him
two requests,--one, to make good his right to be an Earl, and the other,
to give his consent to his marriage with Rose Bradwardine. Fergus must
wait for the first, the Prince had told him, because that would offend a
chief of his own name and of greater power, who was still hesitating
whether or not to declare for King James. As for Rose Bradwardine,
neither must he think of her. Her affections were already engaged. The
Prince knew this privately, and, indeed, had promised already to favour
the match upon which her heart was set.
As for Edward himself, he began about this time to think less and less
of the cruelty of Flora Mac-Ivor. He could not have the moon, that was
clear--and he was not a child to go on crying for it. It was evident,
also, that Rose Bradwardine liked him, and her marked favour, and her
desire to be with him, had their effect upon a heart still sore from
Flora's repeated and haughty rejections.
One of the last things Edward was able to do in Edinburgh, was to obtain
from the Prince the release of Colonel Talbot, whom he saw safely on his
way to London from the port of Leith. After that it was with actual
relief that Edward found the period of waiting in Edinburgh at last at
an end, and the Prince's army to the number of six thousand men marching
southward into England. All was now to be hazarded on the success of a
bold push for London.
The Highlanders easily escaped a superior army encamped on the borders.
They attacked and took Carlisle on their way, and at first it seemed as
if they had a clear path to the capital before them. Fergus, who marched
with his clan in the van of the Prince's army, never questioned their
success for a moment. But Edward's clearer eye and greater knowledge of
the odds made no such mistake.
He saw that few joined them, and those men of no great weight, while all
the time the forces of King George were daily increasing. Difficulties
of every kind arose about them the farther they marched from their
native land. Added to which there were quarrels and dissensions among
the Prince's followers, those between his Irish officers and such
Highland chiefs as Fergus being especially bitter.
Even to Edward, Fergus became fierce and sullen, quite unlike his former
gay and confident self. It was about Flora that the quarrel, long
smouldering, finally broke into flame. As they passed this and that
country-seat, Fergus would always ask if the house were as large as
Waverley-Honour, and whether the estate or the deer park were of equal
size. Edward had usually to reply that they were not nearly so great.
Whereupon Fergus would remark that in that case Flora would be a happy
woman.
"But," said Waverley, who tired of the implied obligation, "you forget
Miss Flora has refused me, not once, but many times. I am therefore
reluctantly compelled to resign all claims upon her hand."
At this, Fergus thought fit to take offence, saying that having once
made application for Flora's hand, Waverley had no right to withdraw
from his offer without the consent of her guardian. Edward replied that
so far as he was concerned, the matter was at an end. He would never
press himself upon any lady who had repeatedly refused him.
Whereupon, Fergus turned away furiously, and the quarrel was made.
Edward betook himself to the camp of his old friend, the Baron, and, as
he remembered the instruction he had received in the dragoons, he became
easily a leader and a great favourite among the Lowland cavalry which
followed the old soldier Bradwardine.
But he had left seeds of bitter anger behind him in the camp of the
proud clan he had quitted.
Some of the Lowland officers warned him of his danger, and Evan Dhu, the
Chief's foster-brother--who, ever since the visit to the cave had taken
a liking to Edward--waited for him secretly in a shady place and bade
him beware. The truth was that the Clan Mac-Ivor had taken it into their
heads that Edward had somehow slighted their Lady Flora. They saw that
the Chief's brow was dark against Edward, and therefore he became all at
once fair game for a bullet or a stab in the dark.
And the first of these was not long in arriving.
* * * * *
And here (I concluded) is the end of the fifth
tale.
"Go on--oh--go on!" shouted all the four listeners
in chorus; "we don't want to play or to talk, just
now. We want to know what happened."
"Very well, then," said I, "then the next story
shall be called 'Black Looks and Bright Swords.'"
Carrying out which resolve we proceeded at once to
the telling of