Now, reader, for a short recapitulation of events which occupied
several weeks. I must be brief, for the stern limits stare me in the
face, and the tale must needs, perforce, draw to a conclusion. First,
then, with the Earl of Gowrie. In a few days he returned to Trochrie,
meeting his mother by the way, and escorting her with kindly care and
tenderness. The best apartments in the castle had been prepared for
her. The summer was of unusual brightness. The day had been one long
lapse of sunny light; and although, when the countess passed the dark
portal of the castle, which she had last entered with a gallant
husband, since torn from her by a bloody death, a shade of gloom, cast
from the cloudy past, fell upon her, yet it passed speedily away,
when, with her hand clasped in that of her son, and the beautiful arms
of his promised bride around her neck, she stood in the old hall, and
looked forward through the perspective glass of hope towards the
future.
A month passed away in joys and pleasant sports; Gowrie's household
was now completed. The number of his attendants and his tenantry, the
friendship of the neighbouring clans, the support of his relation, the
Countess of Athol--all rendered the residence at Trochrie perfectly
secure against any machinations of his enemies; and fear was banished
from the dwelling. The younger brothers of the house of Ruthven
appeared at the castle from time to time. His sister Barbara, quiet
and nun-like in character, spent the greater part of her time there.
An occasional guest partook of their hospitality. The mornings were
passed in chasing the deer, or in rides amongst the hills; and the
evenings in calmer and more intellectual pleasures. The old countess
would sit and listen, as it were entranced, while her son's promised
bride sang the exquisite songs of other lands, or while Gowrie
himself, with the peculiar charm which is given by high conversational
powers, told brief outpointed anecdotes of countries he had visited,
or great men whom he had known; and, while she gazed upon the
extraordinary loveliness of the one, or the high-toned, manly beauty
of the other, she would say to herself, "These two were certainly
formed by Heaven to be united," and would add, with a half-doubtful
sigh, "and to be happy."
At the end of about a month, suddenly and unexpectedly, they were
joined at Trochrie by the earl's younger brother, Alexander. He seemed
to shrink from all explanation of the causes of his having quitted the
court; and when his mother made some inquiries as to whether the king
and he were still friends, replied, "Yes. His majesty parted with me
most graciously."
Gowrie asked no questions; but he divined much. He was kind and gentle
to his brother, however; and the youth seemed to feel his forbearance
deeply, and showed greater reverence and affection than he had ever
done before. His faults were those of youth, passion, and
indiscretion; but his heart was generous and kind, and experience and
example might have made him a great and a good man.
The period of his stay at Trochrie was the happiest, by far the
happiest, of Gowrie's life; and it went on increasing in brightness,
for the days were rapidly approaching which were to make Julia his.
As the month of July waned towards a close, it became needful,
however, that some preparation should be made for his approaching
nuptials; and to ascertain whether, as he hoped and trusted was the
case, the feelings of enmity which the king had shown him had been
mitigated by time, he wrote to Beatrice, who was still with the queen
at Falkland, and to Sir George Ramsay, who was likely to obtain
correct information through his brother. Both the answers were
favourable, for James was an accomplished hypocrite whenever it suited
his purpose to be so; and Beatrice replied, "I trust that all danger
is past, and former things forgotten. The king seldom mentions you, my
dear brother, which is a good sign; and when he does so, it is with a
joke, which is a sign still better. He said the other day, that you
were so busy courting your fair lady, that you could not give a
thought to king or cousin; and added, that if he could find out the
day you were to be married, he would go as a guisard, and dance at
your wedding."
Sir George Ramsay's letter was much to the same effect.
"I trust," he said, "that time is curing old wounds. If anything is
meditated against you, my dear lord, I will undertake to say, that it
is unknown to my brother as well as to myself, for John is not of a
deceitful disposition, but rather rash and bold. He would not, and he
could not, conceal from me what he knows; and as he mentioned your
name the other day, if any design had menaced you, it would have been
told."
With such assurances, the young earl's plans were soon formed, and it
was agreed that the dowager countess, with her two younger sons and
Julia, should proceed by one road to Dirleton, avoiding the court at
Falkland, while Gowrie, with Alexander Ruthven, should go for a few
days to Perth, to make preparations for the reception of his bride,
and then join his mother and the rest of the family in East Lothian,
on the ensuing 5th of August. The marriage was appointed to take place
on the 1st of September, the earliest day which their promise to the
old Count Manucci permitted.
With such plans and purposes, Julia and her lover parted on the 30th
of July, 1600, in the fond anticipation of meeting again before the
week was at an end. Gowrie rode on to Perth; and the news of his
arrival spread through the county, where many of the gentry were now
assembled after having passed the winter and spring in courts and
cities. Multitudes flocked to see and congratulate the young earl on
his return, and on his approaching marriage; and, to say truth, the
crowd of visitors was somewhat inconvenient, considering the many
preparations he had to make, and the shortness of his proposed stay.
On the morning after his arrival, indeed, the inconvenience was
rendered greater than it otherwise might have been, by a circumstance
which seemed at the time merely ludicrous, but which was not without
its significance. Gowrie, on reaching the gates of his own dwelling,
had found them open, and the porter absent. He was somewhat angry at
the neglect, but on speaking to his factor, Henderson, the latter
excused the porter, saying that he had asked leave to absent himself
for a day, which had been granted, as the earl's arrival so soon was
not expected. The fault of the gates being open the factor took upon
himself, and proceeded to lock them with his own keys, before he
departed for the night to his small house in the town of Perth. He
forgot, however, to leave his keys behind him; and when, early on the
following morning, two or three of the neighbouring noblemen presented
themselves at the gates, they could not obtain, and Gowrie could not
give admission, except by a small postern door in the garden wall.
Christie, the porter, did not return till night, and upon being
questioned as to where he had been, replied, "To Falkland, my lord. I
went to see my sister, who is servant there."
"Saw you the king?" asked his lord; but to this question the man
returned one of those equivocal answers which are often all that can
be obtained from a Scotchman of the lower class, who has no mind to be
cross-questioned. It implied that he had just caught a sight of his
majesty, but certainly did not imply that he had spoken with him.
Was this the plain truth? I trow not; for James was much accustomed to
trust to his own skill alone in all dangerous negotiations.
The earl, however, had no suspicion of the truth, and dismissed the
man to his duty, with a slight reproof for having carried the keys
away with him. This occurred on Thursday, the 31st July, and I must
now ask the reader to pass over two days, and follow me to Falkland,
on Saturday, the 2nd August.
Do you see that little door, opening from a back staircase, and
somewhat high up in the building? It looks like the entrance to the
bedroom of some inferior follower of the court. It is on the third
story, just over the king's closet, and the staircase goes no farther.
Hark! there are voices speaking within! Laughter, too, and merriment.
Is it a party of revellers hiding themselves there, to enjoy a debauch
unobserved? No, it is a king and a king's confederate, talking over
deeds of blood and cruelty.
"He'll come, he'll come," said James, "just as ae deer comes to the
belling of another. But I'll no write, man--it's better to hold one's
hand from written papers; they come up long after; I'll send him a
message. Now, then, Sir Hugh, let us think who we can best trust.
Tommy Erskine is o'er soft-hearted, or he might be a good man, for
he'll keep the king's counsel, I think. You may just whisper a word of
the matter to him and to Geordie Hume--not Sir John, mind--but tell
them not all; only just an inkling."
"Ramsay, I suppose, must know the whole?" said Herries; "he's a man of
action, prompt and ready, and hates the whole name of Ruthven."
"Fye, now, ye silly gowk!" cried James, laughing; "it is just because
he is what you call him, that he shall not know a word before the
time. He'll be prompt enough, and ready for action at a minute's
warning; and his hatred of the Ruthvens will make him fancy any ill of
them the moment they are accused. But I'll tell you, doctor, you must
be there to put him forward the moment I cry out. Have him where he
can see and hear all as soon as it happens."
"I will take care, sire," replied Herries, with a meaning look. "I
have held a hound in leash before now, and put him on the scent at the
right minute."
James laughed again, saying, "Well run our buck down this time, I
think, doctor. But we must have some more. I'm not that fond of
trusting such secrets to lords and gentlemen; for they may think their
own turn will come. But there are two or three sturdy fellows in the
hall and the buttery who'll do good service, and hold their tongues
when it's done. Just you jog down the stairs and call me up Robert
Galbraith--stay, I'll put down five or six o'them, that ye may send up
quietly by turns. There's Galbraith, and then we can have the porter,
James Bog, and his brother John, who has the key of the ale-cellar,
and Brown, too. He's a stout fellow, and canny. He does not heed to
ask questions, but does what he's told, only he's o'erfond of the
lasses. We'll have all these."
Sir Hugh Herries listened with astonishment to the names which the
king mentioned, and at last ventured to say, "Will it not seem
strange, your majesty, to take with you, on your expedition, men of
such stations as your porter here at Falkland and the keeper of the
ale-cellar."
"Hout, tout!" cried the king, "who's to call it strange if I choose to
do it? May not a king guide his own menial servitors as he likes? and
who's to fash his thoomb with what it pleases us to command? I tell
ye, doctor, these are the best men we could have, and I must take heed
I do not get a gore from the hart I'm hunting."
"That of course must be cared for, sire, above all things," answered
Herries, who feared that James might suspect his loyalty, as being
somewhat lukewarm, if he estimated the king's danger less than he did
himself; "it were well to have some one well-armed close to you, and
none could be better than Ramsay."
"I and Christie will see to that," said James, nodding his head
significantly. "Ramsay will no do. He might be scrupulous if he kenned
it was all laid out beforehand, though he'll do the deed in hot blood
right well and willingly, if he thinks his king's in danger. You see,
Sir Hugh, it is not easy to get unlearned, thickheaded, common-witted
men to understand that judges and officers of the law are but
empowered to put offenders to death by authority committed to them by
their sovereign, who, in imparting to others, loses no part of his
power and authority himself; but having tried and condemned a criminal
in his own mind, according to the right which he derives from God, has
every title to say to any of his subjects, 'this man, or that man, is
a traitor, or a murderer, or a thief,' as the case may be; 'put him to
death;' for doing which the king's mere word is his sufficient
warrant. I say it is not easy to get such men as Ramsay to understand
this, though he would quarrel with any Ruthven of them all, and cut
his throat for our service, if we would but give him leave to proceed
according to his false fancies of honour and such like. No, no, man,
he must know nought of our purposes till the time comes, as I have
said. Such counsels are too grave for him, but still I will take care
so to prepare and preoccupy his mind with the knowledge of meditated
treasons that he shall be ready to strike home in our defence when
need is. The men I have told you of, are those we can best trust; and,
perhaps, before the day for the hunting, we may pick out one or two
more of the court folk, to accord greater or less knowledge to, as we
shall deem expedient."
"But is your majesty sure that the earl is now at Perth?" asked
Herries; "it would not do for you to go and find a warm nest and a
flown bird."
James chuckled. "See what an unbelieving carle thou art, Hughie," he
said; "the last time, I trusted the matter to you and your cronies;
and sure enough you found what you say, a warm nest and a flown bird;
but I have taken the matter into my own hand now, and made sure of
all. The lad returned to his great house, at St. Johnstone, on
Wednesday last at evening, and there he is carousing like any prince.
All the people are flocking to him from the country round, as if he
were king of Perth, and forgetting that we ourselves are here in
Falkland. The good folk of the town, too, are all mad about him, and
looking for the bridal, as if a king's son were going to wed."
"Is there no risk of the citizens rising?" asked Herries, in a low
tone.
James's face instantly fell. "That's right well bethought," he said;
"they, burghers of Perth, were aye a turbulent set. We must have men
enow in the town to keep them down. What's to be done, think you,
doctor?--stay, I've got the pirn. We'll send Davie Murray to his
cousin Tullibardine, and bid the baron meet us with all his folk in
arms, as if just by accident."
"I fear me, your majesty, that will not pass current," said Herries;
"people don't travel by accident with two or three hundred armed men."
"Ay, ay! but you forget there's that affair of Oliphant. The notorious
villain has been grinding down the Angus folk like corn between the
stones, and he's now in Perth or thereabout. That will be enough for
Tullibardine. As for the people about the court, we must have another
story ready; but I'se warrant we find one."
"I hope it will match all the rest," said Herries, with a grim smile;
"for where one has so many pirns on hand they are apt to get tangled.
I've seen many an old wife get clean dumfounded with the power o'them;
and I'm thinking that, at spinning a web, neither your majesty nor I
can match an auld wife."
"Gae wa', ye disloyal carle!" cried the king, laughing; "to even your
born sovereign to an auld wife! Go your ways, man, I'll make a tale
that shall puzzle them. You send up the folk I have told you; but
Davie Murray, our controller, first; and then the others, one by one.
Let them be like buckets in a draw-well, as one goes down, the other
comes up--no more clavers, but do as I bid."
Herries retired from the royal presence; but he stopped and thought
for a minute or two upon the stairs. He stopped and wondered, too; for
though he was ruthless enough, he could not regard the business before
him as the king did; and he asked himself, how James could plot the
death of two young, hopeful men, in the pleasant spring of life, full
of gay expectation and the happy blood of youth, as if he were but
laying out the chase of some beast of the field? The secret was, that
he could not, with his acute and logical mind, deceive himself with
James's sophistries as to the justifiableness of the act; and the king
did.
He descended at length, however, and twelve times that night the small
door at the top of the stairs opened and shut, as one of those who
were to take a part in the perpetration of the contemplated deed went
in and came out.
At length the king descended himself, his dark and fatal council over,
and lying down to rest, slept as soundly as a sick-nurse.