'It is I, Kennedy of Culzean, that come from your liege lord to demand
the treasure that is his, stolen from his house by his false servant and
now reset by you, Laird Currie of Kelwood.'
The Laird laughed contumeliously from his turret window.
'An' the Earl wants his treasure, let him come and fetch it,' said he.
At which answer it was all that we could do to keep the Earl quiet. He
was for setting the squared tree to the door at once.
'Kelwood,' again we heard the voice of Sir Thomas, 'I ken well who has
deceived you in this matter. Listen to no glosing words. No man can
strive with the Kennedy and prosper in all these lands 'twixt Clyde and
Solway.'
'Which Kennedy?' cried Kelwood, from his window, fleeringly. And this
set the Earl more bitterly against him than ever, for it was as much as
to say that the Bargany Kennedies were equal in power and place to his
own house of Cassillis.
'Lift the trees and to it!' he cried, and with that, being a strong man
of his own body, he garred a great fore-hammer dirl against the iron of
the door. And though he had many faults, this forwardness should be
minded to him for good. Then there was a noise indeed, coulters and
fore-hammers dinging merrily against the door, while from aloft came
shouts and the rolling of heavy stones down about us; but by my strategy
there was not one came near to hurting us. The defenders might have
been so many sparrows fyling the roof, for all the harm they did to us.
But nevertheless, they banged away their powder and shouted. We that
were with the Earl shouted none, but kept dourly to our work. Stark and
strong was the bolted door of Kelwood, and all the might of our men
could do it no injury, nor so much as shake the hinges. It must have
been the work of a deacon among the hammermen.
But I felt that we were against the wall of the kitchen, for one side of
the passage was warm, on my right hand, and the other clammy and cold.
So I cried on them, to leave the door and pull down the stones of the
jamb on my right. Then since I had given them good advice before, and
they knew that I was of the household of the wise man of Culzean, they
were the more ready to take the counsel, though they thanked me not a
word, but only lifted the tree and drave at it.
'Make first a hole with the crowbars,' said I. 'Pull down the stones;
they are set without lime under the harling.'
So they did it, and we found the first part of the wall as I had said,
not difficult of conquest; but the inner, being cemented with shell
lime, was like adamant. Therefore, with a shout, we set the tree to it,
swinging it in our hands. After many attempts we sent the butt of it
crushing through, and then, before the enemy could come to the
threatened place, we had made a hole large enough for a man to enter on
his hands and knees. I was leaping forward to be first within, but
Gremmat got in front of me and crawled through. Whereat the Laird of
Kelwood himself came at him with his gun, and shot Gremmat in the kernel
of the thigh, so that he dropped in a heap on the floor, and was ever
thereafter unable of his legs. But I that came second (and right glad
was I then that I had not been first) rose and set my point at Kelwood,
for he was tangled up with the reeking musket. I had him pierced before
ever he had time to draw, and was set in defence for the next that might
come, when the Earl and the other gentlemen came rushing past us both,
and completely invaded the place of Kelwood, so that all within it
immediately surrendered.
Then the Earl was like a man gone mad to find the chest, and questioned
the Laird, who, as was somewhat natural, could do nothing but groan on
the floor, with my sword-thrust through his shoulder. But in a little
they found the box in a cunning wall-press under his bed, where it could
not be reached except by moving the whole couch from its place and
sliding a panel back--which being done, the secret cavity was made
plain.
It had been a harder task to transport young Gremmat back with us than
it was to take the treasure--which was in a small enough compass, though
heavy beyond belief. But after going a mile or two we left the young
wildcap at the house of a good and safe man, who made himself bound to
the Earl for his safe keeping till he should be whole of his wound.
*CHAPTER V*
*THE THROWING OF THE BLOODY DAGGER*
Indeed it had been no likeable job to deny Cassillis that night. For
with the fighting, the treasure, and the reproaches of Kelwood, whom he
could hardly be kept from finishing with his own hand, his spirit was
apt for wars and stratagems--all the more that he himself had as yet had
little experience of blows or the smart of wounds. Kelwood we left with
those of his dependents that had been in the tower with him. His wound
proved not so serious as it might have been, and in a month he was safe
with the Laird of Kerse--which thing occasioned a most bitter quarrel
between Cassillis and the Craufords, as indeed hereafter ye shall hear.
It was already greying for the dawn when we reached the House on the Red
Moss. Black Peter was at the door, and within the kitchen a large fire
was blazing, which, because the night was chill and the sweat of
fighting hardly yet well dried on us, we were right glad to see. We
laid down the chest in a little trance at the back of the kitchen,
setting it upon an oatmeal ark which stood there.
Black Peter went out to hold our horses while we talked together, and
left his daughter, a well-favoured lass of about my own years or
thereby, to wait upon us. So meeting the lass in the dusk of the
trance, on pretext of seeing that the treasure was safe, I took occasion
of a kiss of her--not that I liked it over much, or that her favours
were precious, but because such like is held a soldier's privilege at an
inn, and no more to be disregarded than the reckoning--indeed, somewhat
less.
But the wench dang me soundly on the ear for it, so that my head echoed
again. Yet I liked her better for that, because it made the adventure
something worth attempting. 'Go,' she cried, 'grow your beard before ye
set up to kiss women. I would as soon kiss the back of my hand as a man
wanting the beard to his face.'
Thus she gave me also the woman's buffet of the tongue, and I could have
answered her, and well, too, but that I saw behind me my Lord Cassillis
himself, and right heartily he was laughing--which, I do admit,
disconcerted me no little, and brought me to silence.
'Ah, lad,' he said, 'have ye not learned from your experience of this
night that women are just like castles? Ye must reconnoitre them
circumspectly before ye can hope to take them by direct assault.'
He went by, giving me a clap on the shoulder, as one that had sympathy
both with the winning of castles and of women. And I think he liked me
none the worse for it in the long run. But I hoped that he would not
make a jest of it nor tell the Tutor of the matter. For my master, Sir
Thomas of Culzean, being a grave man and reverend, was not apt to look
upon the follies of youth with so kindly and comprehending an eye.
Within the kitchen of the Inn of the Red Moss there was routh of liquor,
and all the Cassillis faction were gathered there, quaffing and pledging
one another. They were flushed with their success, and several were
even keen for assaulting some of the Bargany strongholds at once.
But the Tutor cautioned them.
'Mind what ye do. Young Bargany is as a lion compared to that braying
ass we left groaning behind us at Kelwood; and John Muir of Auchendrayne
has at once the wisest head and the evilest heart in all this broad
Scotland. Be patient and abide. We have gotten the treasure. Let us
be content and wait.'
'Ay, and by waiting give them the next score in the game!' said the
young Earl, scornfully--for he, too, was hot with success.
So they stood about the kitchen with drinking-cups of horn in their
hands, while the Earl unfolded a plan of the great house of Bargany, and
began to explain how it might be taken.
'But,' he said, 'we must wait till, by some overt and considered act of
war, Bargany gives me the chance to execute justice within my Balliary
of Carrick, as is my legal right. Then swiftly we shall strike, before
that Bargany can reach us with the sword, or John Muir of Auchendrayne
foil us by getting at the King with his fox's cunning.'
Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a silence fell upon us. The
Earl ceased speaking and inclined his head as though, like the rest of
us, he were harkening eagerly for the repeating of a sound.
Then we who listened with him heard something that was like the
clattering of horses' feet at a gallop, which came nearer and nearer.
There arose a cry from the front of the house--that wild, shrill scream,
the unmistakable parting cry of a man stricken to death with steel.
Then broke forth about the Inn of the Red Moss, the rush of many horses
snorting with fear and fleeing every way, the while we, that were in the
house, stood as it had been carved in stone, so swift and unexpected was
this thing.
The Earl remained by the table in the centre, with his hand yet on the
plan of the house of his enemy. Sir Thomas was still bending down to
look, when all suddenly the glass of the window crashed and a missile
came flashing through, thrown by a strong man's hand. It fell with a
ring of iron across the paper that was outspread on the table. It was a
dagger heavily hiked with silver. But what thrilled us all with fear
was, that the blade of it was red nearly to the hilt, and distilled
fresh-dripping blood upon the chart.
Then was heard from without something that sounded like a man
laughing--but as of a man that had been longtime in hell--and again
there came the galloping of a single horse's feet. The first in all in
the house to run to the door was no other than the young lass I had
tried to kiss. She flung the door open and ran to a dark, huddled
thing, which lay across the paving stones of the little causeway in
front of the inn.
'My father--oh, they have slain my father!' she cried.
We that were within also rushed out by the front door, forgetting all
else, and filled with dread of what we might see.
The dawn was coming red from the east, and there, in the first flush of
it, lay Black Peter, plain to be seen, a dark tide sluggishly welling
from his side, and his young daughter trying pitifully to staunch it
with the bit laced napkin wherewith she had bound her hair to make her
pleasant in the men's eyes.
When Peter of the Red Moss saw the Earl, he tried to raise himself upon
his elbow from the ground. One feeble hand went waveringly to his head
as if to remove his bonnet in the presence of his chief.
Cassillis sank on his knees beside him and took the hand. There was a
fragment of a leather rein still clasped in it, cut across with a clean,
slicing cut.
'Peter, Peter, poor man, who has done this to you?' he asked.
The man that was about to die turned his eyes this way and that.
'My lord, my lord,' he said, struggling with the choking blood that rose
in his throat, 'it was--it was--the grey man--!'
And the Earl listened for more with his ear down to Peter's mouth, but
the spirit of the man who had died for his master ebbed dumbly away
without another word. So there was nothing left for us to do but to
carry him in, and this we did in the young sunshine of a pleasant
morning. And the maid washed and streeked him, moaning and crooning
over him piteously, as a dove does that wanteth company.
I went, as it happed, into the trance to fetch her a basin of clear
water. The top of the meal-ark stood empty!
'My lord--the chest!' I cried, and all save the maid alone rushed in.
The treasure of Kelwood was gone! Without the door, on the trampled clay
and mud, there were the steads of naked feet many and small. But of the
treasure-chest for which we had ventured so much that night, we saw
neither hilt nor hair, clasp nor band.
Only in the kitchen of the house on the Red Moss there was a dead man,
and a maid mourning over him; on the table a dagger, red to the guard,
and from it fell slowly the drip of a man's life blood, blotting out
with a bitter scorn the plans of our wisest and the enmity of our
proudest.
*CHAPTER VI*
*THE CROWN OF THE CAUSEWAY*
I rode forth from Edinburgh town with infinite glee and assurance of
spirit. No longer could I be slighted as a boy, for that day I, even I,
Launcelot Kennedy, had been put to the horn--that is, I had been
proclaimed rebel and outlaw at the Cross of Edinburgh with three blasts
of the king's horn, 'Against John, Earl of Cassillis, Sir Thomas of
Culzean, called the Tutor of Cassillis, and Launcelot Kennedy, his
esquire!' So had run the proclamation. I wondered what that unkempt,
ill-tongued lassie, Nell Kennedy, would say to this. But the honour
itself even she could not gainsay.
It is true that there were others forfaulted as well as I--the Earl
himself that was a sitter in the King's council board, Sir Thomas, my
master, and, indeed, all that had any hand in the great contest in the
High Street of Edinburgh. How close had every leal burgess kept within
doors that day and how briskly screamed for the watch! How the town
guards sequestered themselves safe behind bars, and were very quiet, for
there was hardly a man to be seen from the castle to Holyrood-House that
was not a Kennedy, and trying to kill some other Kennedy--as indeed is
ever the way with our name and clan.
We of Cassillis had ridden hot foot to Edinburgh to denounce the Bargany
faction to the king, in the matter of the treasure and the killing of
Black Peter. Not that we knew for certain that it was Bargany who had
any hand in the murder and reiving. But it was necessary to make a bold
face for it, and, at all events, we knew that the thing had been done in
Bargany's interests. So we went, all prepared to declare that the
active criminal was Bargany's brother, Thomas of Drummurchie, a bold and
desperate villain, who had been outlawed for years for many a crime
besides murder in all its degrees. Also we hoped that if the king were
in a good humour towards us of Cassillis, who were always the men of
loyalty and peace, he might even attaint Bargany himself. So that our
Earl, being the Bailzie or chief ruler of Carrick under the King, might
get his will of his house foe, and thus put an end to the quarrel. For
there was no other hope of peace, save that our enemies should be laid
waste.
But we found King James in aught but a yielding mood. The ministers of
Edinburgh, and in especial one, Mr Robert Bruce, a man of very great
note, and once a prime favourite with the king, had been setting
themselves against his will. So at first we got little satisfaction, and
it did not help matters that, on the second day of our visit, the
Bargany Kennedies and Mures rode into the town in force--all sturdy men
from the landward parts of Carrick, while we were mostly slighter and
limberer lads, from the side of it that looks towards the sea.
The next day, as I went down the Canongate with the gold lilies of
Cassillis on my cocked bonnet, I declare that nearly every third man I
met was a Bargany lout, swaggering with his silly favour of red and
white in his cap. But, for all that, I ruffled it right bravely in
despite of them all, letting no man cock his feather at me. For I had a
way, which I found exceedingly irritating to them, of turning the skirt
or my blue French cloak over my shoulder when I met one of the other
faction, as if I feared defilement from the contact of their very
garments. This I did with all of the underlings--aye, even with Mure of
Cloncaird. Indeed, I had already had my long sword three times out of
its sheath by the time I got to the guard-house at Holyrood.
It was just there that I met young Bargany himself, coming direct, from
the King's presence. But I practised my pleasantry not with him. For a
more kingly-looking man did I never see--far beyond our Earl (shame be
to me for saying such a thing!), and, indeed, before any man that ever I
saw. But Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany was the bravest man that was to be
gotten in any land, as all men that saw him in his flower do to this day
admit. And hearts were like water before him.
He was of his stature tall and well-made, with a complexion black but
comely, noble on horseback, and a master both of arms and at all
pastimes. And when I beheld him, it came upon me to salute him--which,
though I had small intention thereof till I saw him, I did. It was with
some surprise, perceiving, no doubt, the Earl's colours, that he
returned my greeting, and that very graciously. The moment after I
looked about me, and right glad I was to observe that none of our folk
had been in the place before the palace to observe my salutation.
After this we of Cassillis went in parties of three or four, and our
swords were in our hands all the day, in spite of the watch--ay, in
spite even of the King's Guard, which His Majesty had sent to keep the
peace, when he himself had gone off to Linlithgow in the sulks, as at
this time was oft his silly wont.
For me, I went chiefly with Sir Thomas, my master, as was my duty; but
being allowed to choose my companion, I chose Muckle Hugh from
Kirriemore, which marches with mine own home of Kirrieoch on
Minnochside. Hugh was the strongest man in all Carrick, and had joined
the command chiefly for the love of me--because he had once herded sheep
for us, and my mother had been kind to him and given him new milk
instead of skim for his porridge.
And I warrant you when the two of us took the crown of the causeway, we
stepped aside for no man, not even for Bargany and his brother
Drummurchie had we seen them (which by good luck we never did). But
others we saw in plenty. It was 'Bargany thieves!' 'Cassillis cairds!'
as we cried one to the other across the street. And the next moment
there we were, ruffling and strutting like gamecocks, foot-to-foot in
the midst of the causeway, neither willing to give way. Then 'Give them
iron!' would be the cry; and in a clapping of hands there would be as
pretty a fight as one might wish to see--till, behold, in a gliff, there
on the cobble stones was a man stretched, and all workmanly completed
from beginning to end, while the clock of St Giles' was jangling the
hour of noon.
For the matter of the killing of Black Peter, and the way that lassie
his daughter held his head as she washed him, abode with us, and made
our hearts hot against the Barganies. That is, the hearts of the younger
of us. For I wot well that the elders thought more of the lost box of
treasure, than of many men's lives far more famous and necessary than
that of poor Black Peter, who died in his duty at the house door of the
Red Moss--and that is not at all an ill death to die.
But there came a day when the ill blood drew to a head. It was bound to
come, because for weeks the two factions of us Kennedies had been
itching to fly at each other's throats. The Barganies mostly lodged
together in the lower parts of the town beneath the Nether Bow, in order
to keep us away from the King when he was at Holyrood House, and also to
be near the haunts of those loose characters of the baser sort with
whom, as was natural, they chiefly consorted.
We, on our part, dwelled in the upper portion of the town, in the
well-aired Lawnmarket and in the fashionable closes about the Bow-head.
For none of us, so far as I knew, desired to mix or to mell with loose
company--save, an' it might be, the Earl himself. That being 'the
custom and privilege of the nobility,' as Morton said to his leman, when
he wished to change her for another.
Now, we had among us of our company one Patrick Wishart, an indweller in
Irvine and a good fighter. He was an Edinburgh man born, and knew all
the town--every lane and street, every bend and bow, every close and
pend and turning in it. He also knew that which was even more valuable,
where the King's Guard were, and how to shut them up till we had done
our needs upon our foes. He was well advised besides where each of the
leaders among the Barganies dwelt.
On the day appointed the Earl gave us all a meeting-place by the back of
Saint Giles' High Kirk, beneath the wall of the Tolbooth. And there we
mustered at ten of the clock one gay morning. It was a windy day, and,
spite of the sun, the airs blew shrewdly from the eastern sea, as is
their use and wont all the year in the High Street of Edinburgh.
Now our young Earl had ever plenty of siller though afterward he parted
with it but seldom. Yet for the furtherance of his cause he had spent
it lavishly during these days in Edinburgh, so that all the common
orders in our upper part of the town held him to be the greatest man and
the best that ever lived. And as for the vices he showed, they were
easy, popular ones, such as common folk readily excuse and even approve
in the great--as women, wine, and such-like.
So as we swung down the street all the windows of the armourers' shops
in the booths about the Kirk of Saint Giles' were opened, and as many as
desired it were supplied with spears and pikes and long-handled Highland
axes, each with a grappling hook at the back, such-like as had brought
many a good knight down at the Red Harlaw.
And these were afterwards a great advantage to us, for though we were
much fewer in numbers, yet we had longer weapons of assault and also the
upper side of the street to fight from.
Then we sallied forth crying, 'A Kennedy!' And the streets were lined
to see us go by, many a douce burgher's wife, knowing our good
intentions and our not companying with the riotous troublers of the
town, but rather, when we could compass it, with honest, sonsy women,
giving us her blessing from an upper window.
Patrick Wishart advised that we should stop up all the alleys and closes
as far down as the Blackfriar's Wynd with barracadoes of carts, barrels,
and puncheons, to prevent the enemy sallying forth upon us from behind.
It was a good thought, and but for a foe without, whom we knew not how
to reckon with, it had been completely successful. Down by the Nether
Bow, where the street narrows, was the place where we first saw the
misleared Bargany faction drawn across the street to resist us and
contemn the King's authority.
When we observed them we gave a mighty shout and heaved our weapons into
the air, that they might see the excellence of our arming. They sent a
shout back again, and I saw in front of their array Bargany himself with
a casque on his head, the sun glinting the while on a steel cuirass
which covered him back and front. Then I gave the word to blow up the
matches; for by this time I was well kenned for a good soldier and
proper marksman, and had by my lord himself been put over the
hackbuttmen, which was a great honour for one so young. Thus we
advanced to the onset. But first my Lord of Cassillis, going to the
front, cried to Kennedy of Bargany to know why he withstood him in the
highway of the King's principal town.
'Because ye have lied concerning me to the King. Because ye have slain
my men, hated my race, and sought to bring me to my death!' answered
back young Bargany in a clear, high voice.
'Ye lie, man! Have at you with the sword!' cried our Earl, who was
never a great man with his tongue, though sometimes masterful enough
with his hands.
So with that I gave the order, and our hackbuttmen shot off their
pieces, so that more than one of the wearers of the red and white fell
headlong.
'A Kennedy! A Kennedy!' cried the Earl. 'To it, my lads!'
And in a moment we were on them. By instinct we had dropped our
matchlocks and taken to the steel, so that the first thing that I knew,
I was at Thomas of Drummurchie's throat with my borrowed pike. He
roared an oath, and leaping to the side, he struck the shaft with his
two-handed sword, which shore the point off near to my upper grip. And
there is little doubt but that I had been spent ere I could have drawn
my sword, had not Muckle Hugh of Kirriemore brought his broadsword down
upon the steel cap of the Wolf of Drummurchie, so that with the mighty
blow he was beaten to the ground, and, being senseless, men trampled
upon him as the battle swayed to and fro. Yet I have never forgotten
that, but for Hugh, I was that day almost sped, which should have been a
lesson to me not to trust to a weapon of which I had no skill, even
though it might be an ell longer in the haft than my sword. Also I was
thankful to God.
'A Kennedy! a Kennedy!' cried we. 'We are driving them. They give
back!'
For we felt the downward push upon the hillslope, and that gave us
courage.
And the crying of 'Bargany' was almost silenced, for now the wearers of
the butcher's colours had enough to do to keep steeks with us, with
their faces braced to the brae, and so needed all their breath.
By this time I had my arm cleared and my sword out, and, certes, but the
fray was brisk. Now, when it is hand to hand I fear no man. Once I had
a chance of paying my score in the matter of Drummurchie, for as I
passed over him he cut upwards at me with a knife. But I spared only
long enough from the man I was engaging at the time (who indeed was no
swordsman or I dared not have done it) to slash the Wolf across the
wrist, which, I am given to believe, has troubled his sword-hand all his
life--and for no more than this he has borne me a grudge unto this day,
so malicious and revengeful are some men.
Thus we drove the Bargany faction into the Canongate in spite of the
swordsmanship of their chief, who fought ever in the forefront. It was,
indeed, all over with them, when suddenly, from behind us, there came
rushing a rabblement of men with weapons in their hands, all crying
'Bargany!' Able-bodied scoundrels with long hair and pallid faces they
were, and they laid about them with desperate vigour. Now, it is no
wonder that this was a terrible surprise to us, and, hearing their cry,
the broken Bargany folk down the streets and closes took heart of grace
to have at us again. We were not discouraged, but part of us faced
about, so as to fight with our backs set one, to the other.
Nevertheless, I saw at once that unless some help came we were
overpowered.
'Into the lanes!' I cried, though, indeed, I had no right to give an
order, but, in the pinch of necessity, it is he who sees that should
lead.
So into one of the narrow lanes which led to the ford and down by the
stepping-stones across the Nor' Loch we ran, but not in the way of a
rout. Rather we retreated orderly and slow--withdrawing, grieved at
heart to think that we had to leave so many of our sick and wounded
behind us. Yet, because of the love they bore us as peaceable men, we
knew that the town's dames would succour them--also lest we should be
bloodily revenged on their husbands when we came back, if they did not.
At the edge of the Nor' Loch, six or seven of us made a rally, and
having wounded and captured one of the long-haired desperadoes whose
assault had turned the tables against Cassillis, we brought him with us,
thinking that my Lord might wish to question him with the pilniewinks.
Now not many of the Bargany faction pursued; some because they knew not
whither we were gone, some because both their chief and the Wolf of
Drummurchie were hurt, and others again because the rabble which had
fallen on our rear, not knowing one party from another, had turned their
weapons upon their friends.
Nevertheless, it was a patent fact that we good men of Cassillis had
been baffled and put to shame by the thieves of Bargany in the open High
Street of Edinburgh. It has not happened to many to be victorious and
pursuing, and again broken and defeated, all within the space of
half-an-hour.
When we were safe from pursuit on the other side of the Nor' Loch, we
questioned the varlet whom I and others had captured, as to what was his
quarrel against us.
'Nothing,' he said. 'I and the others were lying in the Tolbooth, when
suddenly the gates were opened, and there stood one at the door, clad in
grey, who gave a sword or a pike to each man, as well as a piece of
gold, telling us that there were other ten of the same awaiting each
good striker who should fall on and fight those whom he would show us.'
'What like was this man?' said Sir Thomas, my master.
'An ordinary man enough,' said the fellow; 'grey of head and also clad
in grey, but with armour that rattled beneath his clothes.
Then we looked at one another, and remembered the dying words of Black
Peter--'It was--it was--the Grey Man--!'
Once more such a man had crossed the luck of Cassillis. By what golden
key he had bribed the warders and opened His Majesty's Tolbooth, we knew
not; but assuredly he had clean beaten us from the field.
Nevertheless, I was much cheered to hear on the next day that the name
of Launcelot Kennedy, called 'of Kirrieoch, or Launcelot of the Spurs,'
was among those that were 'put to the horn,' or in plain words declared
rebel and outlaw at the Cross of Edinburgh.
For I knew that Nell Kennedy would never flout me more. Even fair
Marjorie would, perhaps, not disdain speech with me now, and might
perchance let me walk by her side in the garden some summer evening.
*CHAPTER VII*
*MY LADY'S FAVOURS*
It was as I had foretold. Those that had flouted me for a beardless
boy, now scorned me no more. I mean chiefly Nell Kennedy. Indeed, for
some days it was as much as I would do even to speak to her. She would
make shift oftentimes to pass me in the pleasaunces of the house of
Culzean, when I walked abroad in the sunshine with my hand on my
sword--as was my duty--to receive her father's guests. For there was a
great repair of people to our castle ever since the outlawing, the cause
of which was considered most fortunate and honourable to all concerned.
Nell Kennedy, as I say, would often pass me in the orchard or in the
Italian garden, which her father had made with great expense. And as
she went by, she would kick with her foot a stone in front of me. But
of this I took no heed whatever, no more than if I had not seen it.
Because, for my own part, I was resolved never to think of maids and
such light matters again, but rather to concern myself solely with
glory, as became one who at eighteen had been outlawed for rebellion and
other deeds of military prowess.
Once it happened that we were all in the garden--Marjorie, the loons
James and Alexander Kennedy, and little David, Sir Thomas's youngest
son. Also Nell Kennedy was there. Sir Thomas himself was walking to
and fro at the garden's end, all by his lone, with his hands clasped
behind his back, as was his custom.
Then Nell, who, being angry, desired above all else to put a slight upon
me, called me to come to her, speaking roughly as though I had been a
servitor, and bade me take a misbehaving puppy dog of hers within doors.
But I was equal with her, and beckoned to me Sandy, her brother, who
played about on the grass plots.
'Who may this little girl be that hath the messan dog with her?' I asked
of him.
'Thou art a great blind colt-head not to know my sister Nell!' he
answered, and ran again to his play with his brothers.
'Ah,' said I, looking over the heads of those that stood near by, 'now I
do remember to have seen the little maid playing with her dolls before I
went to the wars!'
And with that I marched off, and walked to and fro on the terrace near
to my master. Presently he came and walked with me, as I had hoped he
would, in sight of Nell and of them all, speaking low and kindly the
while. And I listened as though it were an affair of State and policy
he had been confiding to my private ear, though indeed it was only
concerning our greatly increased expenses with the vast number of guests
who came to see him, and his fear that the buttery might be running low.
When Nell Kennedy had betaken herself away in an access of anger and
despite, I made my bow to Sir Thomas, her father, and went to the
Italian pleasaunce once again. Presently the young Lady Marjorie came
walking by, fairer of face than the flower of the hawthorn hedge on a
moonlight night, but with hair tossed about her temples blacker than the
sky on a night of stars. Her eyes were bright and large when she turned
them on me.
'Launcelot, come and walk with me awhile,' she said kindly, 'unless you
have something better to do--with your arms and war gear as it may be,'
she added. And her way of speaking thus of my calling as a soldier
pleased me. Also in spite of my renunciation of all pleasure in women's
society, my heart gave a great stound at her marked favour. Perhaps,
also, at the way she had in walking, which was with her head high and
her bosom set well forward in its openwork bodice of fair linen, and all
her sweet body swaying lightly to the side as a willow wand that bends
in the wind.
Her voice, the voice of Marjorie Kennedy, sounded like the running of
deep water in a linn under the dusk of trees, with undercurrents of sobs
and pitifulness in it, for all that it was so proud. For even thus, in
her youth, walking as the fairest maid the sun shone on, Marjorie seemed
ever to be 'fey,' trysted to some lot beyond that of maids who are to be
good men's wives and mothers.
But enough of speaking about her and about. Better that I should tell
what she said to me as we walked up and down, while the young buds were
cracking open that gracious May gloaming.
'It was a good fight, I hear, and well fought,'she said.
'Which fight may it please you to speak of, my Lady Marjorie?' said I,
making as though I had been in many.
'The battle in the High Street of Edinburgh,' she made answer, and
methought smiled as she said it. But there was no bairnly scorn or raw
coltish ignorance in Marjorie's smile, as there mostly was in the face
of her sister--who was nothing but a child at any rate, and still wore
her hair without a snood, flying daft-like about her shoulders.
Then I told Marjorie Kennedy of all the fight, and she listened with
face turned away from me to the sea, looking to the hills of Arran that
were so blue in the distance, so that for a space I thought she
hearkened not to what I said.
But in a little she interrupted me. 'And you speak thus with admiration
of Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, he that is an enemy to our house and
name! How say ye then that such an one is noble and worthy?'
For I had been telling her of meeting him coming from the king's palace.
'Ay, noble and generous is Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, as well as the
handsomest man that walks, with a spring to his feet as one that goes
upon the deep twigs of the pine trees in the woods. He can twirl a
lance in one hand on horseback--for I myself have seen him--never was
there such a man!'
For I had given him all my heart and admiration, being then young--or at
least not very old in years--and I wished with all my strength that such
an one had been chief of our side and Earl of Cassillis, instead of he
that was. Though my lord is a good man also, and I deny it not.
Then it was that my Lady Marjorie showed me the greatest favour that
ever she showed to any man, and caused my heart to beat high with love
and hope. For she took my hand in hers, holding it to her side as she
walked--ay, and stroked and touched it gently with her other hand as we
went along, being hidden by the screen of the leaves in the pleasaunce
hedges. Now this was so sweet to me and precious, that I slept with my
right hand in a glove of silk for many days--ay, and even forbore to
wash it. For I bethought me that though, as a man of war, I had
forsworn the society of silly girls, yet every true knight had a lady
for his heart's mistress, whose colours he might wear in his helmet, and
whose lightest word he might treasure in his heart.
Thus we two walked and talked, while the sun was going down and the
colours of a dove's breast crept over the water from the west.
'And this Gilbert of Bargany--tell me of him--for, being the great enemy
of our house, I desire to hear more of him,' she said.
So I told her, being nothing loth to speak of so brave an enemy.
'Was he at all hurt in the combat, think you?' she asked again,
carelessly, as one that thinks of other things.
'Wounded? No,' I replied, with a laugh; 'on the contrary, he pursued us
down to the ford of the Nor' Loch, and defied us all to come back and
have it out. But I think that not he but another, had a hand in the
craven's trick of letting loose on us the offscourings of the
prisons--Highland catherans and Border hedgethieves.'
'And who might that other be?' she asked.
'That,' I replied, with dignity, 'I am not at liberty to tell. It is
yet a secret under trust.'
'Tell it me,' she said, bending her eyes on me, that were beautiful as I
know not what.
And this, indeed, I should very gladly have done at that moment, but
truly I knew nothing of the matter. So I made haste to answer that I
would readily die for her, but that it was a soldier's duty that he
should keep the secrets with which his honour had been entrusted.
'Then tell me what you can,' she said, so quietly that I was ashamed of
my subterfuge. Though that is the way that all wise men must talk to
women, so as to keep the peace, telling them (mostly) the truth, but
seldom the whole truth.
'It was,' said I, 'the Grey Man!'
'Ah,' she replied, quickly drawing away her hand, and laying it upon her
heart, 'the Grey Man!'
'What ken ye of the Grey Man?' I asked her, in surprise.
'Nothing,' she said, giving me back her hand; 'I know not why, but for
the moment something came upon me, and I felt as it had been a little
faint. It is nothing. It has already passed.'
Then I wished to bring her a cup of wine from the house. But she
laughed more merrily than ever I had heard her, and tossed back the lace
kerchief which confined her hair, so that it lay about her white neck
with the ends dropping over her bosom.
'Let us two walk here yet a space, Launcelot,' she said, 'for it is
lonely within the great house.'
A saying which made my heart swell with gladness and pride, for she had
never thus distinguished any man before, so that I forgot all about my
vows and about forswearing to company with women. But this was indeed
very different.
'My Lady Marjorie,' I said (I much desired to say 'My sweet lady' as
they do in the stage plays, but dared not), 'My Lady Marjorie,' I said,
'I, even I, will be your true knight, and fight for you against all, if
so be that coming home I may see the pleasure in your eyes.'
'Ah, will you truly?' she asked, and sighed. Then she was silent for a
moment but drew not away her hand, which I took of be a good omen.
'No, you must not--you must not. It would not be fair!' she said.
'I love you with all my heart!' I whispered, trying to reach her hand;
but somehow, though it was very near, I could not again take it in mine.
She seemed not to hear me speak.
'Well,' she said at last, as if to herself, 'perhaps it will be good for
the lad.'