As evening drew on, the old warder of Traquair Castle beheld a sight
that caused him to rub his eyes in the fear that they were misleading
him. A horseman bearing the guise of a Roundhead trooper, his steel cap
glittering, approached the ancient stronghold. That such a man dared set
foot on Scottish soil and ride thus boldly to the home of the most noted
Royalist on the Border seemed incredible, but the warder was not to be
caught napping, and he gave orders that the gates be closed and guarded,
for the Border was ever a land of surprises, and one must take all
precaution. Doubtless this lone trooper had a company concealed
somewhere, and was advancing to parley, although he carried no flag of
truce. He came on with a fine air of indifference, and stopped when he
found his way barred, sitting carelessly on his horse with an amused
smile on his lips.
“What’s yer wull, surr?” demanded the warder from the wall.
“That’s it,” replied the horseman.
“Whut’s it? I dinna unnerstaun’ ye.”
“Wull’s ma name,” said the rider with an accent as broad as that of his
questioner. “Wuz that no’ whut ye were spierin’? Dinna staun glowerin’
there, Jock Tamson, like an oolet or a gowk. Can ye no’ see Ah’m
English? Gang awa’ and tell yer maister that a freen o’ Crummle’s at th’
door an’ craves a word wi’ him.”
“Dod!” cried the Bewildered warder, scratching his head, “if ye hae a
tongue like that on ye since ye crossed the Border, ye’ve made the maist
o’ yer time.”
“Is the Yerl o’ Traquair in?”
“He’s jist that.”
“Then rin awa’ an’ gi’e ma message, for Ah’m wet an’ tired an’ hungry.”
The warder sought Traquair in his library, where he sat, an anxious man,
with many documents spread out on a table before him.
“Yer lordship, there’s a soldier in the uniform of the English rebels at
th’ gates, wha says he’s a freen o’ Crummle’s, and begs a word wi’ ye.”
“Ah!” said the Earl, frowning, “they’ve caught poor Armstrong, then, and
now, in addition to our troubles, we’ll need to bargain with that fiend
Noll to save his neck. Everything is against us.”
“He may be an Englisher, but he’s got a Scotch accent as broad as th’
Tweed.”
“He’s one of our countrymen fighting for Cromwell, and therefore thought
by that shrewd villain the better emissary. Bring him in.”
“There may be others o’ his like in hiding, ma Lord.”
“Close the gates after him, then, and keep a strict watch. There’s no
danger on that score yet, but lippen to nothing. This man’s just come
to strike a bargain, an’ I’m afraid we must dance to the tune he pipes.
Bring him in.”
When William and the warder came in together, a moment or two passed
before the Earl recognized his visitor, then he sprang forward and held
out both his hands.
“In God’s name, Armstrong, is this you?” he cried. “What have they done
to you? Save us all! Who has shorn and accoutred you like this?”
“The necessities of the chase, Traquair. This is a disguise, and
although you saw through it, I’m happy to think I deluded Jock Tamson
there.”
“Losh!” cried Tamson, peering forward, “ye’ll never threep doon ma
throat that this is Wull Armstrong.”
“Sir William, if you please, Tamson,” corrected the new knight. “The
title was bestowed upon me by his Majesty himself, and I shall expect
that deference from the lower orders, Tamson, which the designation
calls for. Still, Jock, I’ll forgive your familiarity if you’ll help me
off with this helmet, that seems glued to my skull.”
The old man grasped the edges of the steel cap with both his hands
when Armstrong bent his head. He braced his foot against that of the
helmet-wearer, and pulled with all his might, but his strength was
unequal to the task.
“Lord pity us!” growled Will, “catch me ever putting my head in a trap
like this again. I’ll have to take it off with a boot-jack.”
“Bring in Angus,” laughed the Earl, “he’ll pull either the helmet or the
head off you.”
The huge Angus came lumbering in after the warder, who went in search of
him.
“Have you had your supper, Angus?” asked the Earl.
“Yes, ma lord.”
“Then let us see what strength it’s given you. Tug this iron pot from
Armstrong’s head.”
Angus, bracing himself as the warder had done, jerked ineffectually
several times.
“Pull, ye deevil,” cried Armstrong. “Ye’ve no more strength than a
three-year-old wean.”
“Ah’m feart to thraw yer neck,” protested Angus.
“Never mind the neck. Being hanged by Cromwell is as nothing to this.
Pull, ye gomeral! Am I to go about with my head in a metal bucket all my
life? Pull!”
Angus put forth his strength, and the helmet gave way with unexpected
suddenness, whereupon Angus sat down on the floor with a thud like an
earthquake, the steel cap in his lap. Traquair slapped his thigh and
roared till the rafters rang.
“Will, you’ll be an inch taller after that. I never saw the like of it.
I’ve heard that a man’s head grows with new honors placed upon him, but
I had no idea it was so bad as that. Man, where’s your hair? And did
they chop it off with a battle-axe? If that’s a fair example of barber’s
work in England, I’m glad I live in Scotland.”
Armstrong rubbed his shorn head slowly with his open palm.
“A barber may have other qualities than expertness with the shears,” he
said.
“The trick of the shears is surely the chief equipment for the trade.”
“Yes. You’re in the right. My hair was cut in a stable-yard under the
moonlight, with great haste and blunt blades. We will see what your
own poll-man can do in still shortening the result. I have been hotly
chased, Traquair, and hair-cutting was the least drawback that troubled
me. I think my tailoring is even worse than my barbering, and there,
also, you must stand my friend. Is the Castle tailor out of work?”
“My whole wardrobe is at your disposal, Will.”
“Nothing in it would fit me, and I am a thought particular about a new
dress, as I have lost all self-respect in this one. I may borrow a hat
from you, if you have one of the latest fashion, with a fine feather on
it.”
“Aha! What’s come over you, Will? Some lady in the Court of Charles? You
didn’t fash much over your clothes in the old days.”
“I don’t fash much now, as you may see by my array. Still, it is n’t
duds, but food that is the first necessity. I’ve had nothing all day but
a hurried drink out of the Eden. It was as thick as brose, and about the
same colour, but not so sustaining.”
“They’re preparing supper for you now, and I’ll bear you company when
it’s ready. I’m eager to hear what befell. So the King knighted you.
Deed, he might have gone farther than that and made you a marquis or a
duke at the same cost.”
“Oh, he offered me anything in his gift if I brought the commission
safely through to you,--a promise that I’m thinking I’ll never trouble
him to redeem. Nevertheless, here’s the packet, a little damp, but none
the worse for that.”
He placed the cause of all the trouble on the table, and Traquair turned
it over and over in his hands, with no great delight in its possession,
as the messenger thought. The Earl sighed as he opened it at last and
slowly perused its contents in silence, laying it on the table again
when he had finished.
“You’re a wonderful man, William,” he said. “If every one in Scotland
did his duty as thoroughly as you do it, we would soon place the King on
his throne again.”
“Is there more trouble brewing?”
“More trouble, and the old trouble, and the new trouble. Every one
pulling his own way, and in all directions, thinking only of himself,
and never by any chance of the interests of the whole.”
“May I tell Cromwell that? He seemed at some pains to intercept a billet
that you receive but lightly.”
“Tell Cromwell! You’re never going to write to that scoundrel?”
“I intend to see him before the week is past.”
“What! You’re not such a fool as to put yourself in Cromwell’s clutch
again?”
“Just that.”
“Will, I wonder at you. Angus got the steel bonnet off you with some
work, but no man in Scotland can get Cromwell’s rope off your neck if
once you thrust your head through the noose.”
“Cromwell’s not such a fool as to hang me. If he did, it would but unite
your wavering hosts like an invasion of Scotland.”
“It would be a heavy price to pay for union, Will.”
“The price will never be paid. Cromwell knows what he wants, and he does
n’t want me now, however anxious he was for my company this morning.”
“Have you actually seen him?”
“I met him the first day I crossed the Border. I saw him once again, and
I travelled over most of England on a pass from his own hand. Cromwell
and I have a mutual respect for each other by this time, but there are
some matters of difference between us that I think will best be settled
by word of mouth, so I’m off day after to-morrow to foregather with him.
I cannot go sooner, because my new gear will not be ready, and I want to
give the General time to withdraw his troops from across the country, so
that I may come on him in other fettle than as a prisoner.”
“Who is the woman, Will? I knew you would go clean daft when you met
her.”
“Never you mind. As the Border is a land of nobility and romance, we
will call her an Earl’s daughter to please you.”
“More like some peasant girl who assisted you to escape from your
enemies.”
“Well, whoever she is, Traquair, I’ll make her Mrs. Armstrong when I get
the chance.”
“Lady Armstrong, you mean. You’re forgetting your new dignity. Surely
if the case stands thus you will ask the King to fulfill his promise and
make you a baron at the least.”
“That will I not. I’ll trouble the badgered man no further.”
“I know the ways of the sex better than you do, and I warrant you the
lady will give you no rest until the title’s yours, whenever she knows
you have earned it and have had the offer of it.”
“She thinks less of these things than I do, even.”
“Then she is no peasant lass.”
“I never said she was.”
At this point, greatly to the delight of Armstrong, whose answers were
becoming more and more short, his supper was announced, and Traquair
with his arm over the shoulder of his guest, led him to the dining-room.
The tailor came when supper was finished, and measured his new customer,
received minute directions concerning the garments, and retired
protesting he would do his best in the limited time allowed him. The
barber operated as well as he could on a head that began to nod in spite
of the efforts of its owner. Sleep laid its heavy hand on Armstrong,
and the voice of Traquair sounded distant and meaningless, something
resembling the rush of Eden water in his ears, whereupon William nearly
got those useful members cropped in earnest. At last he found himself in
his room, and, for the first time since he left that hospitable mansion,
enjoyed the luxury of lying between clean sheets with his clothes off.
Then he slept as dreamlessly as his ancestors.