The Heiress of the Kerrs
While Archie was speaking Marjory had sat down on a fallen tree. She
had not slept the night before, and had been anxious and agitated
the whole day. The excitement had kept her up; but she now felt
completely worn out, and accepted without protest Archie's decision
that a halt must be made.
The men were already gathering sticks, and a bright fire soon blazed
near the spot where she had seated herself. Ere long some venison
steaks were broiled in the flames. At Archie's earnest request
Marjory tried to eat, but could with difficulty swallow a few
morsels. A bower of green boughs was quickly made for her, and the
ground thickly piled with fresh bracken, and Marjory was in a very
few minutes sound asleep after the fatigue and excitement of the
day.
With the first dawn of morning the men were on their feet. Fresh
sticks were thrown on the fire and breakfast prepared, for the
march would be a long and wearisome one.
"Breakfast is ready, Mistress Marjory," Archie said, approaching
the bower.
"And I am ready too," the girl said blithely as she appeared at
the entrance. "The sleep has done wonders for me, and I feel brave
and fresh again. I fear you must have thought me a terrible coward
yesterday; but it all seemed so dreadful, such a wild and wicked
thing to do, that I felt quite overwhelmed. Today you will find me
ready for anything."
"I could never think you a coward," Archie said, "after you faced
the anger of that terrible uncle of yours for my sake; or rather,"
he added, "for the sake of your word. And now I hope you will eat
something, for we have a long march through the forest and hills
before us."
"Don't fear that I shall tire," she said. "I am half a mountaineer
myself, and, methinks, can keep on my feet as long as any man."
The meal was hastily eaten, and then the party started on their
way.
"I have been wondering," the girl said, as with light steps she
kept pace with Archie's longer strides, "how you came to know that
I was in the convent."
Archie looked surprised.
"How should I know, Mistress Marjory, but through your own messenger?"
"My own messenger!" Marjory exclaimed. "You are jesting, Sir Archie."
"I am not so, fair lady," he said. "Surely you must remember that
you sent a messenger to me, with word that you were captive at St.
Kenneth and needed my aid?"
The girl stopped for a moment in her walk and gazed at her companion
as if to assure herself that he was in earnest. "You must be surely
dreaming, Sir Archie," she said, as she continued the walk, "for
assuredly I sent you no such message."
"But, lady," Archie said, holding out his hand, "the messenger
brought me as token that he had come from you this ring which I
had given you, vowing that should you call me to your aid I would
come immediately, even from a stricken field."
The blood had rushed into the girl's face as she saw the ring.
Then she turned very pale. "Sir Archibald Forbes," she said in
a low tone, after walking for a minute or two in silence, "I feel
disgraced in your eyes. How forward and unmaidenly must you have
thought me thus to take advantage of a vow made from the impulse
of sudden gratitude."
"No, indeed, lady," Archie said hotly. "No such thought ever entered
my mind. I should as soon doubt the holy Virgin herself as to deem
you capable of aught but what was sweet and womanly. The matter
seemed to me simple enough. You had saved my life at great peril
to yourself, and it seemed but natural to me that in your trouble,
having none others to befriend you, your thoughts should turn to
one who had sworn to be to the end of his life your faithful knight
and servant. But," he went on more lightly, "since you yourself
did not send me the ring and message, what good fairy can have
brought them to me?"
"The good fairy was a very bad one," the girl said shortly, "and I
will rate him soundly when I see him for thus adventuring without
my consent. It is none other than Father Anselm; and yet," she
added, "he has suffered so much on my behalf that I shall have to
forgive him. After your escape my uncle in his passion was well
nigh hanging the good priest in spite of his holy office, and drove
him from the castle. He kept me shut up in my room for many weeks,
and then urged upon me the marriage with his son. When he found
that I would not listen to it he sent me to St. Kenneth, and there
I have remained ever since. Three weeks ago Father Anselm came to
see me. He had been sent for by Alexander of Lorne, who, knowing
the influence he had with me, begged him to undertake the mission
of inducing me to bend to his will. As he knew how much I hated
John of Lorne, the good priest wasted not much time in entreaties;
but he warned me that it had been resolved that unless I gave way
my captivity, which had hitherto been easy and pleasant, would be
made hard and rigorous, and that I would be forced into accepting
John of Lorne as a husband. When he saw that I was determined not
to give in, the good priest certainly hinted" (and here she coloured
again hotly) "that you would, if sent for, do your best to carry
me off. Of course I refused to listen to the idea, and chided him
for suggesting so unmaidenly a course. He urged it no further, and
I thought no more of the matter. The next day I missed my ring,
which, to avoid notice, I had worn on a little ribbon round my
neck. I thought at the time the ribbon must have broken and the
ring been lost, and for a time I made diligent search in the garden
for it; but I doubt not now that the traitor priest, as I knelt
before him to receive his blessing on parting, must have severed
the ribbon and stolen it."
"God bless him!" Archie said fervently. "Should he ever come to
Aberfilly the warmest corner by the fire, the fattest capon, and
the best stoop of wine from the cellar shall be his so long as
he lives. Why, but for him, Lady Marjory, you might have worn out
months of your life in prison, and have been compelled at last to
wed your cousin. I should have been a miserable man for life."
The girl laughed.
"I would have given you a week, Sir Archie, and no more; that
is the extreme time which a knight in our days can be expected to
mourn for the fairest lady; and now," she went on, changing the
subject, "think you we shall reach the pass across the Grampians
before night?"
"If all goes well, lady, and your feet will carry you so far,
we shall be there by eventide. Unless by some chance encounter we
need have no fear whatever of pursuit. It will have been daylight
before the news of your flight fairly spread through the country,
though, doubtless, messengers were sent off at once in all directions;
but it would need an army to scour these woods, and as they know
not whether we have gone east, west, north, or south, the chance is
faint indeed of any party meeting us, especially as we have taken
so straight a line that they must march without a pause in exactly
the right direction to come up with us."
At nightfall the party camped again on the slope of the Grampians,
and the following morning crossed by the pass of Killiecrankie and
made toward Perth.
The next night Marjory slept in a peasant's cottage, Archie and his
companions lying down without. Wishing to avoid attention, Archie
purchased from the peasant the Sunday clothes of his daughter, who
was about the same age and size as Marjory.
When they reached Perth he bought a strong horse, with saddle and
pillion; and with Marjory behind him, and his band accompanying
him on foot, he rode for Stirling. When he neared the town he heard
that the king was in the forest of Falkirk, and having consulted
Marjory as to her wishes rode directly thither.
Bruce, with his followers, had arrived but the day before, and
had taken up his abode at the principal house of a village in the
forest. He came to the door when he heard the trampling of a horse.
"Ah! Sir Archie, is it you safely returned, and, as I half expected,
a lady?"
"This, sire," Archie said, dismounting, "is Mistress Marjory
MacDougall, of whom, as you have heard me say, I am the devoted
knight and servant. She has been put in duress by Alexander of Lorne
because in the first place she was a true Scots woman and favoured
your cause, and because in the second place she refused to espouse his
son John. I have borne her away from the convent of St. Kenneth,
and as I used no force in doing so no sacrilege has been committed.
I have brought her to you in all honour and courtesy, as I might a
dear sister, and I now pray you to place her under the protection
of the wife of one of your knights, seeing that she has no friends
and natural protectors here. Then, when she has time to think, she
must herself decide upon her future."
The king assisted Marjory to dismount.
"Fair mistress," he said, "Sir Archibald Forbes is one of the bravest
and truest of my knights, and in the hands of none might you more
confidently place your honour. Assuredly I will do as he asks me,
and will place you under the protection of Dame Elizabeth Graham,
who is now within, having ridden hither to see her husband but this
morning. But I trust," he added, with a meaning smile, "that you
will not long require her protection."
The king entered the house with Marjory, while Archie, with his
band, rejoined the rest of his party, who were still with the king.
After having seen that the wants of those who had accompanied him
had been supplied he returned to the royal quarters. The king met
him at the door, and said, with a merry smile on his face:
"I fear me, Sir Archie, that all my good advice with regard to
Mistress Mary Kerr has been wasted, and that you are resolved to
make this Highland damsel, the niece of my arch enemy Alexander of
Lorne, your wife."
"If she will have me," Archie said stoutly, "such assuredly, is
my intent; but of that I know nothing, seeing that, while she was
under my protection, it would have been dishonourable to have spoken
of love; and I know nought of her sentiments toward me, especially
seeing that she herself did not, as I had hoped, send for me to come
to her aid, and was indeed mightily indignant that another should
have done so in her name."
"Poor Sir Archie!" the king laughed. "Though a man, and a valorous
one in stature and in years, you are truly but a boy yet in these
matters. It needed but half an eye to see by the way she turned
pale and red when you spoke to her that she loves you. Now look
you, Sir Archie," he went on more seriously; "these are troubled
days, and one knows not what a day may bring forth. Graham's tower
is neither strong nor safe, and the sooner this Mistress Marjory
of yours is safely in your stronghold of Aberfilly the better for
both of you, and for me also, for I know that you will be of no
more good to me so long as your brain is running on her. Look you
now, she is no longer under your protection, and your scruples on
that head are therefore removed; best go in at once and ask her
if she will have you. If she says, 'Yes,' we will ride to Glasgow
tomorrow or next day. The bishop shall marry you, and I myself will
give you your bonny bride. This is no time for wasting weeks with
milliners and mantua makers. What say you?"
"Nothing would more surely suit my wishes, sire," Archie said; "but
I fear she will think me presumptuous."
"Not a bit of it," the king laughed. "Highland lassies are accustomed
to sudden wooing, and I doubt not that when she freed you last
autumn from Dunstaffnage her mind was just as much made up as yours
is as to the state of her heart. Come along, sir."
So saying, the king passed his arm through that of Archie, and
drew him into the house. In the room which they entered Marjory
was sitting with Lady Graham. Both rose as the king entered.
"My Lady Graham," the king said, "this my good and faithful knight
Sir Archie Forbes, whose person as well as repute is favourably
known to you, desires to speak alone with the young lady under
your protection. I may say he does so at my special begging, seeing
that at times like these the sooner matters are put in a straight
course the better. Will you let me lead you to the next room while
we leave the young people together?"
"Marjory," Archie said, when he and the girl were alone, "I fear
that you will think my wooing rude and hasty, but the times must
excuse it. I would fain have waited that you might have seen more
of me before I tried my fate; but in these troubled days who can
say where I may be a week hence, or when I can see you again were
I once separated from you! Therefore, dear, I speak at once. I
love you, Marjory, and since the day when you came like an angel
into my cell at Dunstaffnage I have known that I loved you, and
should I never see you again could love none other. Will you wed
me, love?"
"But the king tells me, Sir Archie," the girl said, looking up with
a half smile, "that he wishes you to wed the Lady Mary Kerr."
"It is a dream of the good king," Archie said, laughing, "and he
is not in earnest about it. He knows that I have never set eyes on
the lady or she on me, and he was but jesting when he said so to
you, having known from me long ago that my heart was wholly yours."
"Besides," the girl said hesitating, "you might have objected to
wed Mistress Kerr because her father was an enemy of yours."
"Why dwell upon it?" Archie said a little impatiently. "Mistress
Kerr is nothing in the world to me, and I had clean forgotten her
very existence, when by some freak or other she sent her retainers
to fight under my command. She may be a sweet and good lady for what
I know; she may be the reverse. To me she is absolutely nothing;
and now, Marjory, give me my answer. I love you, dear, deeply and
truly; and should you say, 'Yes,' will strive all my life to make
you happy."
"One more question, Archie, and then I will answer yours. Tell me
frankly, had I been Mary Kerr instead of Marjory MacDougall, could
you so far forget the ancient feud between the families as to say
to me, 'I love you.'"
Archie laughed.
"The question is easily answered. Were you your own dear self it
would matter nought to me were your name Kerr, or MacDougall, or
Comyn, or aught else. It is you I love, and your ancestors or your
relations matter to me not one single jot."
"Then I will answer you," the girl said, putting her hand in his.
"Archie Forbes, I love you with my whole heart, and have done
so since I first met you; but," she said, drawing back, as Archie
would have clasped her in his arms, "I must tell you that you have
been mistaken, and that it is not Marjory MacDougall whom you would
wed, but Mary, whom her uncle Alexander always called Marjory,
Kerr."
"Marjory Kerr!" Archie repeated, in astonishment.
"Yes, Archie, Marjory or Mary Kerr. The mistake was none of my
making; it was you called me MacDougall; and knowing that you had
reason to hate my race I did not undeceive you, thinking you might
even refuse the boon of life at the hands of a Kerr. But I believed
that when you thought it over afterwards you would suspect the
truth, seeing that it must assuredly come to your ears if you spoke
of your adventure, even if you did not already know it, that Sir
John Kerr and Alexander of Lorne married twin sisters of the house
of Comyn. You are not angry, I hope, Archie?"
"Angry!" Archie said, taking the girl, who now yielded unresistingly,
in his arms. "It matters nothing to me who you were; and truly I
am glad that the long feud between our houses will come to an end.
My conscience, too, pricked me somewhat when I heard that by the
death of your brother you had succeeded to the estates, and that
it was in despite of a woman, and she a loyal and true hearted
Scotswoman, that I was holding Aberfilly. So it was you sent the
retainers from Ayr to me?"
"Yes," Marjory replied. "Father Anselm carried my orders to them.
I longed to know that they were fighting for Scotland, and was sure
that under none could they be better led."
"And you have told the king who you are?" Archie asked.
"Yes," the girl said, "directly we entered."
"And you agree that we shall be married at once at Glasgow, as the
king has suggested to me?"
"The king said as much to me," Marjory said, colouring; "but oh!
Archie, it seems dreadful, such an unseemly bustle and haste, to
be betrothed one day and married the next! Whoever heard of such
a thing?"
"But the circumstances, Marjory, are exceptional. We all carry our
lives in our hands, and things must be done which at another time
would seem strange. Besides, what advantage would there be in
waiting? I should be away fighting the English, and you would see
no more of me. You would not get to know me better than you do
now."
"Oh! it is not that, Archie."
"Nor is it anything else," Archie said smiling, "but just surprise.
With the King of Scotland to give you away and the Bishop of Glasgow
to marry you, none can venture to hint that there is anything that
is not in the highest degree orthodox in your marriage. Of course
I shall have to be a great deal away until the war is over and
Scotland freed of her tyrants. But I shall know that you are safe
at Aberfilly, which is quite secure from any sudden attack. You will
have my mother there to pet you and look after you in my absence,
and I hope that good Father Anselm will soon find his way there and
take up his abode. It is the least he can do, seeing that, after
all, he is responsible for our marriage, and having, as it were,
delivered you into my hands, ought to do his best to make you happy
in your captivity."
Marjory raised no further objection. She saw, in truth, that,
having once accepted Archie Forbes as her husband, it was in every
way the best plan for her to marry him without delay, since she had
no natural protectors to go to, and her powerful relations might
stir up the church to view her evasion from the convent as a defiance
of its authority.
Upon the following day the king moved with his force to Glasgow,
which had already been evacuated by the English garrison, and
the next morning Marjory--for Archie through life insisted upon
calling her by the pet name under which he had first known her--was
married to Sir Archibald Forbes. The Bruce gave her away, and
presented her with a splendid necklet of pearls. His brother Edward,
Sir James Douglas, and other companions of Archie in the field also
made the bride handsome presents. Archie's followers from Aberfilly
and the contingent from Marjory's estates in Ayr were also present,
together with a crowd of the townspeople, for Archie Forbes, the
companion of Wallace, was one of the most popular characters in
Scotland, and the good city of Glasgow made a fete of his marriage.
Suddenly as it was arranged, a number of the daughters of the wealthiest
citizens attired in white attended the bride in procession to the
altar. Flowers were strewn and the bride and bridegroom were heartily
cheered by a concourse of people as they left the cathedral.
The party then mounted, and the king, his brother, Sir James Douglas,
and some other knights, together with a strong escort, rode with
them to Aberfilly. Archie had despatched a messenger to his mother
with the news directly the arrangements had been made; and all
was prepared for their coming. The tenants had assembled to give a
hearty welcome to their lord and new mistress. Dame Forbes received
her as she alighted from the pillion on which she had ridden behind
Archie, and embraced her tenderly.
It was the dearest wish of her life that Archie should marry; and
although, when she first heard the news, she regretted in her heart
that he should have chosen a Kerr, still she saw that the union
would put an end to the long feud, and might even, in the event
of the final defeat of Bruce, be the means of safety for Archie
himself and security for his possessions.
She soon, however, learned to love Marjory for herself, and to be
contented every way with her son's choice. There was high feasting
and revelry at Aberfilly that evening. Bonfires were burned in the
castle yard, and the tenants feasted there, while the king and his
knights were entertained in the hall of the castle.
The next morning the king and his companions again mounted and
rode off. Sir James Douglas was going south to harry Galloway and
to revenge the assaults which the people had made upon the king.
There was a strong English force there under Sir Ingram Umfraville
and Sir John de St. John.
"I will give you a week, Sir Archie, to take holiday, but can spare
you no longer. We have as yet scarce begun our work, for well nigh
every fortress in Scotland is in English hands, and we must take as
many of them as we can before Edward moves across the Border again."
"I will not outstay the time," Sir Archie said. "As we arranged
last night, I will march this day week with my retainers to join
Sir James Douglas in Galloway."