after the door was closed, "my conscience will sit easy enough within
me, I trow, since my good fortune hath thus got me so innocently rid
of mine instrument, after he had so well worked my will."
Sir Walter's heart was torn by a thousand afflictions. He felt that he
would be better any where else than at Drummin. Having now no reliance
in the fidelity of his wife, he resolved to leave her behind him,
and having hastily packed up the important charters of his lands,
and some other valuables, he added them to his other baggage. The time
now left was just sufficient to enable him to obey the King's command,
to present himself before him on a certain day. His people were all
waiting in readiness in the court-yard. Without more thought he flung
himself into the saddle, with a bleeding heart. He was distracted by
his feelings, but giving the word "forward!" he dashed through the
gateway at a furious pace, and his troop of men-at-arms and attendants
went thundering after him.
Sir Walter Stewart was received in the kindest manner by both the King
and Queen. He was earnestly asked, especially by James, why he had
not brought his lady with him. As he could not tell the whole truth,
without making a deadly accusation against her, which he had no means
of proving, he was compelled to say that he had left her somewhat
indisposed, an answer that produced some good humoured raillery
from James, delivered in his wonted familiar manner, and left him,
for the time at least, sufficiently well satisfied.
The tournament took place in that beautiful tilting-ground, in the
rocky valley, close under the south-eastern side of the crag upon
which Stirling Castle stands, and which is still pointed out by the
citizens of the ancient town, as the place which was so used in those
old times. Though few or none of the discontented nobles appeared,
it was yet a very glorious spectacle. The singularity and grandeur of
Sir Walter Stewart's retinue, and their whole appearance, mounted as
they were upon the piebald horses, so richly caparisoned, presented
by far the finest feature of the royal procession, and swallowed up
every other theme of conversation. He was now perhaps the only one
to whom it gave but little pleasure, heavy as his heart then was.
"We would know from our Queen, who, in her mind, was the prettiest
gentleman that appeared at the show to-day," said the King, after
all was over, and that he was in private with her.
"How can your Majesty hesitate one moment in coming to a judgment
upon so plain and palpable a question?" demanded the Queen, with great
animation. "The ornament of the procession and pageant was undoubtedly
Sir Walter Stewart. Who was there who came within an hundred degrees of
him? The number of his attendants--the beauty of the animals on which
they were mounted--creatures that would seem to have been conjured
forth out of the land of faery itself--creatures that moved as if
formed out of the rarer elements of nature--and then the splendour
of their housings--and, above all, the rich and tasteful dress of
the handsome and elegant owner of so much bravery, who is so full of
grace and skill in the management of his steed, that he bore off the
applause of all eyes and the love of all hearts! But what moves you,
my sovereign Lord? Methinks that something hath displeased you?"
"Your praises of Sir Walter Stewart would seem to us to be something
extravagant," said the King, considerably disturbed. "Was there no one
else there who might have demanded a like portion of your approbation?"
"If your Majesty would have an honest answer from me, I must reply,--no
one," said the Queen. "Even the gorgeous and glittering retinue
of Cochran, the budding Earl of Mar, who takes upon him as if your
Majesty had already dubbed him by that title, was but as gilded clay
compared to the well conceived arrangements of the accomplished Sir
Walter Stewart, who outshone all others."
"All others saidst thou, Margaret? Didst thou not think that we
ourselves were of as fair a presence and appearance as thy minion Sir
Walter Stewart?" demanded the King, with a pettish and perturbed air
and manner.
"Nay, my liege Lord," replied the Queen, very much distressed to
discover that she had thus so innocently offended her husband. "In
speaking thus of Sir Walter Stewart, I never dreamed of bringing
your royal person, or your royal retinue, into comparison with those
of any subject, even with those of Sir Walter Stewart himself,
whose individual splendour, was but as a part of that glorious
magnificence which was all thine own. Do me not the injustice to
judge me so harshly, or so hardly. Could you for one moment suppose
that I could compare Sir Walter Stewart to thee, my royal liege
and husband? Believe me, that although Sir Walter Stewart is much
esteemed by me for his numerous merits, yet he is no minion of mine,
and it were equally cruel and unjust in any one to call him so."
"'Tis at least well to hear thee say so," replied the King, in a sort
of half satisfied tone,--and then turning coldly away, he left the
apartment, with such an air and manner, that Queen Margaret burst
into tears, which it required some thinking and reasoning within
herself to enable her to dry up.
Now it was that the facile mind of King James, became prepared to
imbibe all the villainies which the designing Cochran could pour into
it. Nay, his Majesty became the voluntary and the willing victim of
them. He sent for Cochran, made him recapitulate all the particulars
of the story of the hawk, shot with the birding-piece, together with
that expression of Sir Walter's which he had formerly so repudiated,
but which he now listened to and received as most true and convincing;
and the royal ears being thus so unexpectedly open to him, Cochran
now scrupled not to tell the King, that, to his certain knowledge,
Sir Walter was faithless to his wife. To this story James listened with
anxious attention and interest. He remembered the strange combination
of Venus with the other planets, and he shuddered at the recollection,
as he put it beside his Queen's declared approbation of Sir Walter
Stewart. His Majesty's manner towards the Knight became again estranged
and cold, and his treatment of him unkind; and this being quickly
observed by those sordid and selfish wretches, who, with the sagacity
of the sharks that follow a diseased ship, or the rats that leave
one that is no longer sea-worthy, are ever ready to watch and catch
at such signs of a courtier's decaying influence, a regular bond of
union was formed against him by all but Sir William Rogers, who could
by no means be brought to see that he could benefit his niece by the
ruin of her husband. This plot went on, for some considerable time,
without producing the slightest suspicion on the part of Sir Walter
Stewart, though he could not fail to be sufficiently sensible of the
King's alienation from him.
He was sitting one night alone in his lodgings, when one, in the habit
of a serving-man, was announced to him, as craving for a private
audience of him, that he might deliver a particular message to him
from a gentleman of the court. Having ordered him to be admitted, he
was surprised to see enter a person who appeared to be a stranger to
him, with a light handsome figure, but having a nose of most unnatural
length, hugeness, and redness. He examined him narrowly, yet he still
remained satisfied that he had never seen any such person before;
but they were no sooner left alone, than the stranger began to speak,
and Sir Walter recognised him immediately.
"Trust me, Stewart, it is not without some personal risk that I have
thus adventured to hold communication with thee," said the stranger.
"Ramsay!" exclaimed Sir Walter Stewart, in amazement. "In such
a disguise as this, I should never have discovered thee, but for
thy voice."
"Then must I take care to keep that under," said Ramsay, in a half
whisper. "But time is precious. Thy life is sought for! To-morrow,
nay, even an hour hence, all attempt to escape may be unavailing,
and I, even I, may suffer for this my attempt to save a friend."
"I well know the danger that attends such a duty," said Sir Walter,
"and I would not for worlds that thou shouldst incur it."
"Aye, there thou hast said it," replied Ramsay. "I know well enough
what thou wouldst hint at,--thy service to Albany! Nay, start not! Thy
secret will never be the worse for me. But, nevertheless, that is
one of the suspicions that is harboured against thee."
"Suspicions!" exclaimed Sir Walter, "What suspicions?"
"In the first place, the King hath taken up a jealousy against thee
regarding the Queen," replied Ramsay. "Then some strange story hath
reached his ears from Cochran, who, by the way, hath been this day
created Earl of Mar, regarding some treasonable words thou didst drop
in his hearing in the shooting of a hawk with a birding-piece. Besides
this, Torfefan, the master of fence, hath said, that thou didst
once step in to save the Earl of Huntly from his just vengeance,
for speaking treasonably of the King and his courtiers; whence it
is argued, that thou art in secret league with the discontented
nobles. This is corroborated by that rascal, Hommil, the tailor,
who says he was with Torfefan at the time. To this accusation,
touching thy consorting with the nobles, Andrew, the Astrologer,
bears his support, for he says that he one night found thee and the
Earl in deep conference, alone in the hostel. And, finally, as I have
already hinted, thou art, somehow or other, shrewdly suspected of
having aided in, if not contrived the escape of the Duke of Albany
from Edinburgh Castle. But besides all this, Sir William Rogers, who
hath been long thy friend, hath at last gone over to those who are
malecontent with thee, because he hath had letters from his niece,
complaining that she had been disgracefully and cruelly treated by
thee, and that, too, but a few days before she gave birth to thy son
and heir; and that, in consequence of this thine evil treatment of her,
she hath applied for divorce from thee. But what is all this, and why
should I waste time in such a recapitulation of forgeries? Thy life,
my dear Stewart, is sought for! Ere to-morrow's dawn thou wilt be a
prisoner, and how soon afterwards thou mayest be numbered with the
dead, the fate of the last Mar may teach thee. Fly then, my dear
friend, for thy life! I dare not tarry here longer. Get into thy
saddle with all manner of haste, and see that thou sparest not thy
spurs! And so God give thee good speed till we meet in better times."
Ramsay gave him a warm embrace, and then hurried out of the room and
the house. And Sir Walter Stewart, after packing up his writings
and other valuables, cautiously and quietly summoned his people,
and, getting into their saddles, they rode slowly out of the gate
of the town, and across the ancient bridge over the river Forth,
the guards readily believing them when they said they were bound on
the King's business. But they no sooner found themselves on the wide
and flat carse-lands to the north of the river Forth, than they made
the hoofs of their steeds thunder across them with the rapid sweep
of a whirlwind. Nor was this more than necessary either, for the
distant shouts of people, and the trampling of horses in pursuit,
were heard behind them. But the darkness of that night enabled them to
throw them off, and, by forced journies, they in a few days reached
Huntly Castle, where they were joyfully and hospitably received by
Sir Walter's friend the Earl. Although the people who pursued them
very soon returned without success, they were enabled to carry back
certain information as to Sir Walter Stewart's place of retreat;
and this was no sooner known, than the newly made Earl of Mar, armed
with the Royal authority, dispatched an especial messenger, upon a
fleet horse, to go directly to Drummin, as the bearer of certain royal
letters to the Lady of Stradawn, together with a private communication
from himself, which was conceived in these terms:--
"To the Lady Juliet Manvers, once called the Lady Stradawn, these,
with speed.
"Most beauteous Lady, and my soul's idol! Thou wilt herewith
receive the dispensation of his Holiness Pope Sixtus the Fourth,
annulling thy marriage with that traitor, Sir Walter Stewart of
Stradawn, so that thou mayest now look forward to be speedily
raised to the high title and dignity of Countess of Mar, as
well as to those yet more elevated honours, to which the growing
edifice of my fortunes may yet uplift thee. But enough of this
for the present. All will depend on thine own brave and steady
deportment. Thou hast herewith sent thee, moreover, the King's
royal letters, strictly enjoining thee to defend the Castle of
Drummin against all comers, and to hold it for his sovereign
Majesty; and, above all, on no account to admit the traitor, Sir
Walter Stewart, within its walls; the which, seeing that I built
and repaired them, I full well know, are stout enough to resist
any engine which he or others may be able to bring against them,
when defended by so bold a heart as thine. To aid thee in this,
and to enable thee to control the rebellious vassals of the Strath,
a picked body of men are already on their march, and will be with
thee in a very few days after these presents come to thy hand. So
use thine authority like one who is destined to the great honours
that await thee, and thus show thyself worthy of him who is the
architect of thy fortunes,--who is thy devoted adorer and slave,
the deeply love-stricken
"Mar."
Of all this the gallant Sir Walter knew nothing, save that the
proclamation of his being declared traitor, and the public annunciation
of the dissolution of his marriage had been so generally diffused,
that they came to him through the thousand mouths of common fame.
It was this last piece of intelligence, that made him gather up
his strength, from that dejection to which he had for sometime been
disposed to yield. The very thought that his alliance with this now
detested woman, was thus severed and annihilated for ever, gave him
new life. But, alas! the recollection that she to whose wrongs, to
whose sorrows, and to whose penitence, he would now have wished to
have held out the right hand of consolation, was now no longer in life
to receive it, gave him fresh pangs of grief and despondency. He was
resolved, however, to proceed to dispossess the murderess from the
hearth of his fathers, and to take possession of his own fortress,
in defiance of the King's proclamation, being well aware that the same
stout hands, and sharp claymores, in Stradawn, which had ever proved
so faithful to him, would still enable him, if once in possession of
his little place of strength, to laugh at all the King's heralds and
parchments throughout broad Scotland.
It was after a long and tedious march, that Sir Walter Stewart
and his followers were seen winding up the valley of the Aven, one
beautiful afternoon. The shouts of the thinly scattered population,
rang through the woods from cottage to cottage, as the news spread
that their own knight and chieftain was returning. All turned out,
and crowded after him, to welcome himself, to talk with their
friends in the ranks of his retinue, and to glut their eyes with
the splendid pageant presented to them by his gallant array, and his
richly caparisoned piebald horses. The castle arose before them upon
its level and elevated green terrace, and his troop was moving slowly
forward to ford the river Livat, where it runs in a broad and shallow
stream, along the base of the promontory on which the fortress stands,
when they, and especially their horses, were suddenly startled by
the loud roar of a falconet, fired from the walls, the echo from
which ran thundering along the faces of the neighbouring mountains,
whilst the bullet discharged from it whistled over their heads, and
went crashing through the boughs of a great tree behind them. A small
plump of spears appeared immediately afterwards without the walls, and
ranged themselves along the edge of the terrace above. But although
somewhat surprised by these warlike and hostile demonstrations,
Sir Walter moved boldly onwards to the river side.
"Whosoever thou beest, thou hast already had one warning," cried a loud
and hoarse voice from amid the spearmen on the terrace. "I bid thee
beware of a second, till we know something of thee and of thy folk."
"We would hold parley," replied the Knight. "Friends, ye know not
whom ye war against. Is Sir Walter Stewart to be held as an enemy
before his own Castle of Drummin?"
"We know naught of Sir Walter," shouted the other. "We know not Sir
Walter Stewart, nay, nor any other Stewart, save our liege lord and
master, James Stewart, the third of that name, King of Scotland,
in whose name we bid thee be warned and keep off."
"Who is he who so rudely challenges the Castle of Drummin?" exclaimed
a shrill woman's voice from the walls. "If any one would have peaceful
speech of us, let him advance with a moderate escort till he comes
within earshot."
"By'r Lady, I would have thee beware, Sir Knight," said Ronald,
the especial esquire of Sir Walter's body. "If thou art bold enough
to go nearer, thou mayest come within something more than earshot. I
will advance and hold parley with them, and I shall be safe enow too,
for they will see that they can make nothing by any deed of traitorie
done against such an one as me."
"No, no, Ronald; I will take my chance," said Sir Walter in a
melancholy tone. "My life is now but of little value to me. Let you
and one more go with me, and let the rest stand fast here till we
return to them."
Sir Walter Stewart and his two attendants now separated from their
party--forded the river, and rode their horses up the steep diagonal
path that led up to the terrace on the promontory, whilst the plump of
spearmen were called in, and the gates closed. On the outer wall of
the barbican stood the lady of Stradawn, with her baby in her arms,
and surrounded by a group of faces which were altogether strange to
the Knight, or those who were with him.
"How comes it, lady, that I, Sir Walter Stewart, the rightful owner of
this castle of Drummin, should be thus delayed in entering within mine
own walls?" demanded the Knight. "Give orders that instant entrance
may be yielded to me and mine, that there may be no unseemly warring
and blood between those who, if no longer one flesh, were at least
once so united by the holy church."
"I no longer know Sir Walter Stewart!" cried the lady, in a lofty and
imperious tone and manner. "I had indeed once the misfortune to be
linked to him, of which union behold the sad fruits in this wretched
babe! But my duty to my Sovereign, as well as my duty to the Earl of
Mar, who is soon to be my husband, requires that I should now know
him no longer, save as a traitor to his King, as well as a traitor
to me--alike disloyal to both. Begone, then! This fortalice is now
held by me for James Third, King of Scotland, and entrance herein
thou shalt never have, whilst I live to bar thee out."
"Lady, thou art bold," replied Sir Walter, coolly, "but remember,
that stoutly garrisoned and well provisioned as thou doubtless art,
we can soon raise willing hearts and hands enew in Stradawn, to force
thee to a speedy surrender."
"Thou shalt do so then at the price of the murder of this thy
child!" exclaimed the lady, lifting up the poor little innocent on
high. "If but a single arrow be discharged against us, the tender flesh
of this thy babe shall be the clout that shall receive it--and if but
one burning brand be thrown, this shall be the very first food given
to the conflagration. It is thy child. I hate it as being thine. No
mother's feelings, therefore, shall hinder me from using its little
body as the bulwark of our safety, and as the rampart of our security!"
"Fiend that thou art!" cried Sir Walter. "Let not harm fall on the
innocent babe of thy womb! Give me but my child, and I shall retire
and leave thee scaithless, and to such peace as thy guilty soul may
command. Oh, harm not the babe, but let me clasp it in these arms!"
"Ha, ha, ha! a pretty nurse thou wouldst have me provide for the
urchin!" cried the lady, bitterly. "No, no, its body is our most potent
shield, I tell thee, and thou shalt never win in here, till thou hast
opened thy bloody way through the portal of its little heart. Shoot,
if thou wilt, then, for this shall be thy mark."
"Oh, fiend! Oh, demon, in woman's shape!" cried Sir Walter, in
anguish. "How was I ever inveigled into thy toils! Terribly, indeed,
am I punished for the sins of my youth! But thou wilt yet meet with
thy reward! Fiend that thou art, I say thou shalt----"
"Nay, then, thou shalt have thy reward, and that straightway!" cried
the lady, interrupting him. "Shoot, archers! let him have his reward,
promptly and powerfully delivered from your well-strung bows!--Shoot,
I say, archers!"
A flight of arrows instantly came whizzing about them. Several of
these rang upon their mail-shirts, others slightly wounded their
horses, but one found its way through a faulty link, to the very
heart of Sir Walter Stewart's second attendant, who fell lifeless
from his horse. Again came the arrows thick upon them, their barbed
points prying about them, as it were, like wasps, as if in search
of any weaker part or interval, through which they might most easily
and certainly sting them to death. There was no time to be lost. The
faithful Ronald seized Sir Walter Stewart's rein, and urging on the
Knight's horse and his own at full speed, he gallopped straight off
along the terrace, and so he succeeded in placing his master entirely
beyond all hazard, ere yet the bewilderment of his keen and poignant
feelings permitted him very well to know what had befallen him. And
then, leading his horse in a slanting direction, down the steep
and grassy slope, and across the river, they joined their party,
and drew off under several ineffectual discharges of the ill-served
and ill-directed falconet.
With a heart depressed by grief and mortification, Sir Walter Stewart
had now nothing left for it, but to return on his way to Huntly
Castle. As he moved down the valley, the roofless walls of poor
Alice Asher's cottage arrested his eyes, rising bare and blackened
from among the wood, on the brow of the isolated hill where they
stood. The whole of the harrowing scene of that murderous burning
recurred to his recollection. His soul was filled with affliction,
and his heart became heavy, and sank within him, from the poignant
admonitions of that conscience, which plainly and honestly told him,
that if he had sown more honourable and virtuous conduct in his youth,
he might now have been reaping pure and unalloyed happiness, instead
of that misery, which threatened to cling to him, like a poisoned
garment, to the end of his days. He felt that he had blighted the
spring of his own life: that all sunshine had departed from him for
ever; and that all now before him was dark and chilling winter. The
only hope he could dare to cherish now, was that of obtaining mercy,
through the merits of a blessed Saviour, and a deep and heartfelt
repentance. Giving way to the full indulgence of such thoughts as
these, his heart began to sicken at the world. In sorrow and in
silence he pursued his way towards Huntly Castle; and, long ere he
had reached the residence of his friend the Earl, he had taken up
his firm and unalterable resolution.