Duke. "If fame and mine own experience belie thee not, thou art great
in thy judgment of wines. Wilt thou lend me thy company to-night at
supper, that we may taste the stuff which this fellow hath brought me,
of the rare quality of which he makes so great a boast?"
"Your Royal Highness's Grace does me too much honour," replied Strang,
with a most obsequious bow. "My taste is but a poor and uncultivated
taste; but I shall be proud to perfect it under your Royal Highness's
superior judgment and instruction."
"Then let us have supper at four, good captain," said the Duke; "and
as my chamberlain here would fain invite those three poor knaves who
guard the door, to watch for once within side of it, and to partake
of his table, I would have thee see that, at my expense, enough of
the best viands be provided for all."
"Your Highness is too considerate," replied Strang. "Yet, since your
royal will runs so, it shall be obeyed to the letter. The supper shall
be such as shall content you." And then retiring, and shutting and
locking the door upon his prisoners, he descended the outer steps,
muttering to himself,--"The supper may well be a good one indeed,
and thou mayest well eat and drink thy fill; for, if I be not far
mistaken, it may be the last supper thou mayest eat, and the last
wine thou mayest swallow."
The skipper and his party now left the Castle, without farther
question; and as they passed by the mouth of the close where Sir
Walter Stewart lived, on their way down the High Street, the knight
and his son were replaced by the two French sailors, in the same
adroit manner in which the change had been formerly effected; and
they gained their lodgings, and got rid of their disguise, without
having subjected themselves to the least suspicion, whilst the skipper
continued his way out of the city, with the same number of followers
as he had always had with him.
No sooner was the Duke of Albany free from the chance of interruption,
than he and his chamberlain proceeded to wrench up the end of that
cask which Sir Walter Stewart had so ingeniously and so particularly
indicated, as the important one to the royal captive. They found it
altogether devoid of wine; but, to their no small joy, they found
within it a long coil of rope, and a large roll of wax. Their first
care was to replace the rope, and to shut up the cask again, and then
to roll it into the corner, where they set it on end immediately
in rear of that which contained the wine. They then hastily opened
the roll of wax, and discovered that it contained a letter from Sir
Walter, explaining the whole plan for their escape. Having studied this
again and again, so as fully to possess themselves of its contents,
they committed it to the ample fire-place, where it was immediately
consumed, and then they sat down together to resolve and arrange
all the minor parts and details of their plot. Whilst they were so
employed, Captain Strang was unable to resist the devil that tempted
him to taste his little runlet. It was excellent wine. He boldly,
and with great determination, put in the spigot again, and gallantly
retreated from it. But again and again was he drawn to it by an
attraction as strong as that which the loadstone exerts over the
needle. Again and again he drew the spigot, and sipped moderately. He
would have drank deeply, had not economy whispered him that he had
better preserve it for a future opportunity, seeing that he had the
prospect of that night drinking so largely at another's expense. But
still he sipped and sipped from time to time, so that, although far
from drunk when he appeared in the Duke of Albany's apartment--nay,
I may say, far from being even what is usually called half seas
over--he had so whetted his thirst as to be ready to drink oceans;
and the foundation he had laid was quite enough for a superstructure
of perfect intoxication.
As the supper was to be partaken of by him and his people at the Duke's
expense, the captain of the guard had taken especial care to see that
it was a good one. His Royal Highness sat at a small table near the
huge fire-place, with Captain Strang upon his left hand. There they
were first served by the chamberlain, and the three men of the guard,
with all the delicacies they chose to call for; and large beakers
of the new wine being placed before them, the captain gave full way
to his Bacchanalian inclinations. By and bye they began to play at
dice and tables, whilst the chamberlain and his three guests were
supping. Though already not a little affected by the wine he had
swallowed, the captain preserved enough of his cunning and knavish
brains, to enable him to cheat most villainously. This did not escape
the Duke, but he took care not to appear to perceive it--cursed his ill
luck--and went on to lose, much to the satisfaction of his opponent,
whilst the knavish Strang was secretly congratulating himself upon his
own wonderful strength of head, which had so far prevailed over the
comparative weakness of his royal adversary. Meanwhile the chamberlain
was busily employed in supplying the captain, as well as his own
peculiar guests, with wine, in the greatest abundance. By degrees,
Strang became so much elevated, as to lose much of that obsequious
respect with which he had at first treated his royal host.
"Delicious wine!" cried he, smacking his lips, after a long draught
of it, which left his cup empty. "By the holy Virgin, delicious
wine indeed! But--aw--aw--its goodness inflames me--aw--aw--with a
furious desire to taste--aw--aw--to taste, I say, that other cask the
French knave spoke of--aw--aw--that, I mean, which stands yonder,
behind--aw--aw--behind the barrel from which we have--aw--aw--been
tasting; that, I mean--aw--aw--of which the French Mooshie spake
so largely."
The chamberlain darted a look of agony at his master; but the Duke
preserved a perfect composure.
"Thou shalt taste it forthwith, Sir Captain," said the Duke, giving,
at the same time, a private signal to the chamberlain. "Go, use thy
wimble, and bring us a flask of that other wine."
The chamberlain, understanding his master, went to the barrels,
and concealing them as much as he could by stooping over both of
them, he fumbled with the wimble at the second cask; and, whilst he
pretended to fill the can from it, he slyly drew its contents from
the same which had been running all night, and then he poured out
two sparkling goblets, and set them down on the table.
"Well, Sir Captain," said the Duke, after Strang had taken a long
draught of the wine, "what sayest thou to it? Is it as good as that
which thou hast been all night drinking?"
"That which we have been drinking all night--aw--aw--is but as
hog's wash compared to it," cried the captain, his eyes beginning
to goggle in his head, and emphatically dashing his empty cup down
on the table. "No, no--aw--aw--my palate--aw--aw--is--aw--too true
to be deceived that way. This, look ye, is a wine of--aw--aw--of
superior growth, flavour, and body, not to be matched--not to
be--aw--aw--matched, I tell ye--not to be matched."
"It is, indeed, excellent, as thou sayest," replied the Duke--"absolute
nectar!--Come, fill our goblets again."
"By the Rood, but this is--aw--aw--wine indeed!" cried the captain of
the guard again, after emptying his goblet for the second time. "It
grows--aw--aw--better and better--aw--aw."
"I feel it whizzing in my very brain," said the Duke. "I doubt that
thou wilt have but an easy conquest of me now, Sir Captain. But come,
nevertheless, play away, for I will have my revenge."
"What, ho, Sir Chamberlain," cried the captain, getting more and
more inebriated, and becoming, at the same time, still more and
more convinced of his own strength of brain and sobriety, and
his superiority, in these respects, over the Duke, exemplified,
as it was, by his still farther gains. "What ho!--aw--aw--more
wine--more wine and--aw--aw--from the same cask, dost thou hear,
Sir Chamberlain--aw--aw--from the self-same virtuous cask. Why the
fiend did'st thou not draw from that cask--aw--aw--at first? Come,
wine, I tell thee!--aw--aw--aw--pour us out more of that nectar; my
throat--aw--aw--is parched, and--aw--aw--the more I drink--aw--aw--the
more I would drink. Wine!--aw--aw--wine, I say, Sir Chamberlain!"
The chamberlain spared not to fill and refill his goblet, nor was he
less assiduous in filling those of the three men of the guard, until
overcome by the soporific effects of the oceans of wine which they
poured down, combined with those arising from the overwhelming heat
of the rousing fire that had been purposely kept up, an irresistible
drowsiness fell upon the captain and his men, and they, one after
another, dropped into a deep sleep. The Duke, and his chamberlain,
now armed themselves with knives from the table, and self-preservation
having steeled up their minds to this bloody alternative, they sprang
upon their defenceless victims. The work of death was speedy; all were
despatched in a few moments. The keys were taken from the captain's
girdle-belt. The corpses were piled one over the other in the huge
fire-place, and more fuel was heaped upon them, in order to consume
them. The coil of rope was secured. The doors were opened with the
greatest caution, and, having slipped silently down the outer stair,
they stole away to a lonely corner of the rampart, on the south-western
side of the fortress, where the height and precipitous nature of
the rock had been supposed to have rendered sentinels unnecessary;
and where, though the descent might be more dangerous in itself,
than at many other points in the vicinity, there was less risk of
their being surprised and frustrated in their attempt.
At the foot of the Castle rock, under that part of the walls which
I have now indicated, Sir Walter Stewart, and his son Charles, had
been waiting impatiently ever since the day-light had disappeared. The
night was starry, but there was little moon. That they might the better
observe the walls, they climbed up the steep rock, immediately below
the point where they knew that the attempt was likely to be made,
till they came to the perpendicular part of the cliff, under the base
of which they silently lay down to watch the event. After long and
tedious expectation, during which they were often deceived by their
fancy, they at length perceived a dark looking object getting over the
top of the wall of the rampart, directly above them. They watched it
with intense anxiety, as it began slowly to descend on them, till, as
it neared them, they could distinguish it to be a human being, and the
figure slowly grew upon their sight. The head and shoulders of another
man thrust over the wall above, seemed anxiously to watch the success
of him who was lowering himself. For a moment the descending figure
rested on the narrow ledge of the rock at the foundation of the wall,
and then it again began to come down gently over the perpendicular
face of the cliff, until it was within some ten or fifteen feet of
them. Their hope was now high, when all at once the figure seemed to
be arrested in its progress downward, and swung to and fro for a time.
"What stops you?" demanded Sir Walter Stewart, in a distinct but
subdued voice.
"If this be all the rope, it is too short," said the person above
them, in the same tone; "I have nothing now for it, but to take my
chance and drop."
"Fear not!" said Sir Walter; "we shall try to catch thee in our
cloaks. Now! drop boldly!"
"Now then!" said the man in the air.
But although the united strength of Sir Walter Stewart and his son
enabled them so to receive him, as to save him from utter destruction,
the shock of his fall was so great, as to crush both of them down,
and it was with difficulty that they prevented him and themselves
from rolling down the rocky slope below them.
"How fares it with thee?" demanded Sir Walter.
"But indifferent well," replied the other, unable to rise, and
manifestly in great pain. "I fear I have broken my thigh-bone."
"Holy Saint Andrew, what a misfortune!" exclaimed Sir Walter Stewart.
"Call it not a misfortune," said the attached and devoted
chamberlain. "It was good that I tried it before the Duke, else might
this accident have happened to him, and that indeed would have been
a misfortune."
"What hath happened?" demanded a faint voice, that came from the Duke,
whose head and shoulders still appeared over the wall above.
"A small accident, but not a fatal one," replied the chamberlain. "I
am down; but beware, my gracious master, the rope is too short."
"How much may it want?" demanded the Duke.
"About four or five ells, or so;" replied Sir Walter.
"Tarry till I return then," said the Duke again. "But, hush! I must
hide. Here come the rounds."
The tramp of feet, and the clink of arms, now came faintly on
their ears, as they lay, drawn in as much as possible, under the
rock. Voices, too, were heard, but at such a distance above them, that
they could not tell whether they uttered sounds of jocularity, or of
strife and contention. At last they passed away--but whether the royal
duke had been detected or not, they had no means of knowing. A very
considerable time elapsed, during which their eyes were fixed intently,
and most anxiously, on that part of the top of the wall whence the
head of the royal captive had last been seen to disappear. The pain
of the chamberlain's fractured limb was excruciating, yet to him it
was as nothing, compared to the agony of that suspense which was
suffered by the whole three who waited for the result. At length,
to their inexpressible relief, they beheld the Duke's figure getting
over the wall above them,--and down he came, slowly and gradually,
till his toes touched the rocky ground on which they stood. Warm,
though not loud, were the congratulations he received, and heartfelt
were the thanks which he poured out upon his preservers--and deep
was the grief which he uttered for the painful accident which had
befallen his faithful servant. They learned from his Highness, that
ere the rounds had approached near enough to observe him, he had laid
himself down at length on the ground, within the deep shadow that
prevailed under the wall; that they had passed within a few yards of
him, talking and joking with each other, and most fortunately without
observing him. They were no sooner fairly gone to the other parts of
the walls, than he had stolen back to his prison, cut his blankets
into ropes, and by this means supplied what was wanting of the length
of that which had been furnished to him.
Altogether unmindful of his own safety, the Duke of Albany's first
desire was to provide for the proper care of his maimed chamberlain. It
was with no small difficulty that they got him conveyed down the
craggy slope, and when they reached the valley below, they halted,
and held a consultation as to what was best to be done with him. The
chamberlain himself proposed that they should carry him to the house of
a friend of his own, near at hand, where he knew he would be concealed,
and well cared for, and where he thought he could remain in safety
until his broken limb should be so effectually cured as to enable
him to make his escape.
"I will carry thee thither myself," said the Duke of Albany. "I can by
no means flee hence, until I am assured of the safety of a servant,
who hath ever been so devotedly faithful to me, and who is now,
by the perversity of my fate, to be so painfully separated from me,
when I most need his friendship."
"Nay, I do entreat your Royal Highness to flee without a moment's
delay," said Sir Walter Stewart; "every moment is precious to
you. Leave him to me, and, trust me, I will take every care of him."
"Nay, I cannot consent to that," said the Duke. "Thou must not be
seen nor suspected to have had aught to do in this matter. Thou hast
already periled thyself enough. The house he speaks of is but a little
farther along this hollow way, I will carry him thither myself."
Sir Walter yielded to reason. They assisted the Duke to carry the
chamberlain to a conveniently short distance from the house in
question, the sufferer was then hoisted on his royal master's back,
who speedily bore him safely into his place of concealment.
"Now," said Sir Walter to the Duke, when he had again joined them,
a little way on beyond the house, "your Royal Highness must fly with
all haste to the sea-side. This young man, who is a son of mine,
will guide you to the spot where you will find a boat, which is ready
waiting to convey you to the vessel that is prepared to carry you to
France. He must supply the loss of your faithful chamberlain. Take
him with you, my lord, and let him return to me when it may suit your
convenience to part with him."
"He shall be mine especial esquire," said the Duke.--"Would I had a
station to put him into, worthier of son of thine, and of one of his
own apparent merits."
"Your Royal Highness is too kind," said Sir Walter. "Yet is the lad no
disgrace to me, as I trust that you may find that he will prove none
to you. May Saint Andrew give you safety and a prosperous breeze!--And
here, Charley, take this ring as a pledge of a father's affection,
and let the sight of it be ever to thee as a monitor to make thee do
thy duty like a man."
Their parting was now warm, but brief. The Duke and his new attendant
reached the sea-side in safety. Sir Walter, who had hastened around
the shores of the North Loch, and climbed the Calton Hill, waited
impatiently upon its summit till the first dawn of day-break. Then it
was that he rejoiced to descry the white sail of the French barque,
swoln by a merry and favourable breeze, pressing gallantly down the
Firth, and he continued to watch it, until it was lost amidst the
ruddy haze of the sunrise. He then walked slowly down the eastern slope
of the hill, towards Holyrood, and, making a wide circuit, he passed
between Arthur Seat and Salisbury Craigs, through the hollow wooded
valley, which, though now devoid of trees, is still well known by
the name of the Hunter's Bog, and then, turning his steps towards the
southern gates of the city, he muffled himself well up in his cloak,
and entered it, unnoticed, amid the crowds of market people who were
passing inwards at the Port of the Kirk of Field; and so he gained
his lodging without observation. There he soon afterwards heard of
the astonishment, mortification, and dismay, which had possessed the
King on learning this strange event, which he could not bring himself
to believe until he went to see, with his own eyes, the half-consumed
corpses of the captain of the guard and his men, and the rope which
still hung dangling over the wall of the castle.
Sir Walter Stewart seemed to remain altogether unsuspected of any share
in the escape of the Duke of Albany, though every one was agreed in
believing that his Royal Highness must have been aided from without
the walls. But whether it was that ideal suspicion that conscience of
itself begets, or whether there really were some grounds for it, the
Knight could not help feeling persuaded that the King looked colder
than ever upon him. He failed not, however, on that account, to pay
his duties at court most unremittingly, though, frequent as were his
visits there, they were comparatively small in number to those which
he paid to the house of Sir William Rogers, where he now worshipped,
more fervently than ever, at the shrine of that enchantress, the
fair Juliet Manvers. He now found himself so irretrievably the
captive of her charms, that he had for some time ceased to struggle
in her net, and it was not long after the escape of Albany, that he
sought an audience of King James, that he might humbly communicate
his contemplated nuptials to him, and crave his royal leave for their
consummation, as well as for his retirement for a time from court, that
he might carry his lady to visit his own territories in Stradawn, of
which he was to make her the mistress. From all that had lately passed,
he was not much surprised that the King received his communication
with apparent satisfaction, but he was very much astonished to find,
that it procured for him the sudden and unexpected restoration of all
that familiar cordiality of manner, which he had formerly, for so long
a period, been in the constant habit of receiving from his Majesty.
"What!--marry!" cried the King. "And is this really so?--and a long
attachment saidst thou?"
"An attachment that has grown since first we met, so please your
gracious Majesty," replied Sir Walter.
"Strange!" said the King, as if pondering within himself--"strange
that all this should have escaped me. And yet, now I think on't,
I might have seen it.--We have done thee but scrimp justice, Sir
Walter Stewart, but now, be assured, that we wish thee joy with all
our heart. Thou hast indeed chosen a lovely bride. We--yea, and our
Queen too--shall honour the wedding with our presence; and thy fair
and accomplished lady shall not lack such royal gifts, as may befit
us to bestow, and thy wife to receive.--Trust me, that this wise step
of thine hath much relieved--nay, we would say that it hath given us
unfeigned joy."
Thus reassured of the King's favour, though from what cause he could
not by any means divine, Sir Walter Stewart was happy. His marriage
took place with great pomp of circumstances, in presence of King James
and his Queen. Some months passed quickly and pleasantly away over
the heads of the newly-married couple, who were especially detained
at court, from one week to another, by the royal mandate,--and I need
not tell you, that the lady basked with peculiar delight under the
sunshiny smiles that fell upon her from the royal pair. Cochran was
the only one about court who had reason to be dissatisfied with the
match, seeing that he had himself shewn pretensions to Juliet Manvers,
and had been in no little degree encouraged by her. But whether real
or feigned, he manifested an especial cordiality towards Sir Walter,
and he availed himself of every possible opportunity of frequenting
his society, and that of his lady. To the lady, indeed, he was at
all times most particularly attentive, so much so, in fact, that
Sir Walter hardly relished his uncalled for complaisance. Moreover,
he thought he began to detect a certain relaxation of that earnest
desire to please him, which, for her own purposes, Juliet had so long
displayed towards him before their union. She had now less occasion
for dissimulation, since her object was gained, and so it happened,
that on more occasions than one, when impelled by the humour of the
moment beyond the full restraint of her dissimulative powers, she had
unveiled enough of her real character to make him doubt, whether her
acceptance of him as her husband had been altogether the result of a
disinterested affection for him. The seeds of unhappiness were thus
thickly sown within his breast, and they began to vegetate so fast,
that he at length came to the sudden resolution of carrying off his
wife to his castle of Drummin.
"If thou art resolved to quit our court for a season," said King
James, when Sir Walter made his intentions known to his Majesty,
"thou hast our royal permission, most unwillingly granted to thee,
so to do. But say, what sort of habitation hast thou in the north?"
"'Tis but a rude dwelling, so please your Majesty," replied Sir Walter;
"and somewhat the worse perhaps for the warfare which hath been waged
against it by time and weather."
"Then shalt thou take Cochran, our architect, thither with thee,
to plan and to order its amendment," replied the King.--"'Twas but
the other day we were talking of thy concerns together, when he
voluntarily offered to yield thee his best services."
"'Twas kind of him," said Sir Walter, biting his lips, "but I can in
nowise think of so troubling him.--Indeed, for the present, I cannot
well brook the expense of building, and I must e'en remain as I am
for a time."
"That shall be no hindrance to thee, Stewart," said the King. "The
stream of our royal bounty hath been untowardly diverted from thee
for a time; it behooves us now to refresh thy parched roots, so that
thou mayest again raise thy drooping head. The means shall be found
from our royal treasury for thy building, and Cochran shall go with
thee to Drummin--so let us think no more of this matter, seeing I
have so settled it."