On Monday, the 4th of August, 1600, the Earl of Gowrie, his brother
Alexander, good Mr. Rhind, a gentleman of the name of Oliphant, and
Mr. William Row, a celebrated presbyterian minister, and a man of a
bold, intrepid, and straightforward character, were seated together in
the little dining-hall immediately after the evening meal, which was
usually taken in those days at nearly the same hour as that at which
we sit down to dinner in our own times. The summer's day, and the
twilight which succeeds it, I need hardly tell the reader, is much
longer in the northern latitude of Perth than in the southern parts of
the island; and though supper was already over, it was still broad
daylight. There was some very rare old wine upon the table, one of the
good things of life to which even the strictest ministers of the
Presbyterian kirk had no conscientious objection, and of which I have
remarked, they can generally imbibe a quantity without its having the
slightest effect upon their intellect, which would very much puzzle
the brains of any man habituated to its daily use. Gowrie, however,
was accustomed to drink but little. Of a strong frame, in robust
health, hardly having known a day's illness in his life, he felt no
need of wine; but still his hospitality would, in all probability,
have induced him to stay and press the grape upon his guests, had he
not had many subjects calling for immediate attention.
"I must now leave you, Mr. Row," he said, "and must take Alex from
you, too, for we have a number of orders to give and matters to
arrange; but my good friend, Mr. Rhind, will be my locum tenens, and
see that you do justice to my cellar. If I find it otherwise at my
return, I shall either think that Rhind has played the host badly, or
that you find the wine of an ill flavour."
"You are going to Dirleton I think, to-morrow, my lord," said Mr. Row.
"Not before I have heard your sermon, my dear sir," replied Gowrie,
with a courteous smile. "We shall not set off till after dinner; then
I shall run through Fife, embark upon the Firth of Forth, and be at
Dirleton before night."
"And when you come back," said the minister, with a shrewd look, "we
shall see a bonny lady in the great house, I'm told."
"I trust so, my dear sir," replied Gowrie, "and one well qualified,
both by character and education, to esteem and love such men as Mr.
William Row. It is for her reception that I am now so busy in
preparations."
"Let us not keep you, my good lord--let us not keep you. We will just
take a moderate cup, and then retire."
"Oh, no, I trust to see you before you go," replied the earl, quitting
the table. "Now, Alex, let us away and make our arrangements."
Thus saying, the earl left the little dining hall, crossed the larger
hall and a part of the court-yard, and took his way towards the great
staircase which led to the picture-gallery, putting his arm
affectionately through that of his brother, and saying something to
him in a low tone.
"What!" exclaimed Alexander Ruthven, starting, and looking in his
face; "I did not hear you clearly."
"I only said, Alex," replied Gowrie, "that it is fit you should see
what is done and ordered; for if I should die before my marriage, or
without children, you will have to complete, as Earl of Gowrie, what I
have begun."
"Now, Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the young man, warmly. "What should
put such a thing in your head, John?"
"Nothing but the uncertainty of human life," replied his brother, with
a grave smile. "I might be drowned crossing the Forth to-morrow. My
horse might fall, as poor Craigengelt's did, the other day. A thousand
things might happen, to take me from this busy scene. It is true,
indeed!" he added, "I have thought of such things much lately; and I
suppose it is natural, when the greatest joy of life is before one, to
dread those accidents which so often interpose between expectation and
fruition. Would that the day were here, and my Julia's hand clasped in
mine for ever; but here comes Cranston. I shall leave him behind, to
see that all is executed properly. He is a man of taste and judgment,
and we can rely on him quite well."
The person who approached was one of the domestics of the Earl of
Gowrie, whom he had engaged since his return from Italy; but it must
not thence be inferred that he was a man either of inferior birth or
education, for many a well born and well instructed person, in those
days, accepted the higher offices in the houses of noblemen of the
rank and wealth of the Earl of Gowrie. Thomas Cranston, we find, was
the brother of Sir John Cranston of Cranston, and from the way in
which he is designated in his trial, it would seem that he had taken
his degree of Master of Arts.
On his approach, Gowrie addressed him familiarly, and led the way
through the picture gallery to the rooms on the side opposite to the
gallery-chamber and study. The first he entered was a light and well
proportioned room, looking out over the gardens, and catching a
pleasant view of the beautiful Tay.
"Remember what I have told you, Cranston, about this room," said
Gowrie, casting off the gloomy air which had more or less hung about
him all day. "This is to be my lady's bower, where she can be free
from intrusion, and spend her quiet moments at her ease."
"I think, my lord, you said the silk hangings of green and white were
to be put up here?"
"Oh, no, no," exclaimed Gowrie. "You are no lover, Cranston, I can
see. Here, we'll have the colour of the rose; and I pray Heaven, that
her life with me may be so coloured, too. The summer flower, Cranston,
whose blushing bosom will not rival her dear cheek, must decorate her
chamber. No, no; those hangings which we had made here in Perth are
for this room, and for the sleeping-room adjoining. My dressing-room
is the little room beyond, and these two rooms for my mother. In the
other wing, is your abode, Alex, hard by William and Patrick."
"I hope they will be more quiet than their wont," answered the young
gentleman, "for, to speak the truth, I am of a more quiet temper than
I used to be."
"You will be here but for a short time at once, and you must bear with
them, Alex," said his brother; "but you are far enough off from them,
too; so that even when you do come from the noisy court, you may find
repose enough."
"I shall never go to the court again," said the young gentleman, in a
thoughtful tone, walking on with the earl, while Cranston followed, a
step or two behind. "During the last fortnight, Gowrie, I have thought
more than I ever thought in my life before. I see that I have been
wrong, but not, I trust, criminal; and I know that the prayer which
petitions against being led into temptation is a very good one for
me."
"I will not say I am sorry to hear you so speak," said the young earl;
"and though a knowledge of the danger is, with a strong and high mind,
almost a certainty of victory, yet I will not try to shake your
resolution, for I believe it is a good one--at all events for the
present."
"I am sure it is, John," replied his brother; "and so, to return to
what I was saying, you see I shall be in Perth till you and the whole
household are tired of me, perhaps."
"If you remain till I am tired of you, my dear Alex," answered the
earl, kindly grasping his shoulder, "we shall spend our lives
together. But I trust that ere long I shall see you married, too; and
what I can do to advance your fortune, shall be done."
"I doubt not, Gowrie," replied the younger man, "that what I see of
the happiness of yourself and your fair Julia, will make me eager to
try the same lot--only where shall I find another such as she is?"
"Oh, easily," answered Gowrie, "though it be a lover speaks, Alex.
What I mean is, you will easily find one as well suited to you as she
is to me--though I could never in life find another such. But let us
finish our task, for our friends below will think us long;" and, in a
far more cheerful mood than before, the earl led the way onward,
giving various directions to Mr. Cranston, till all that he could
recollect at the time was arranged. He then turned to descend the
staircase which led to the north-eastern part of the house, at which
he had now arrived; but, before he went, he paused to ask--"How is
poor Craigengelt, Mr. Cranston? I have had so many people with me
to-day, I have not been able to get to see him."
"He is better, my lord," replied the other. "I saw him this morning
before dinner, and I shall see him again presently."
"Tell him I will come and visit him before I go to-morrow," said the
earl; "and he must come over after me to Dirleton when he is well
enough."
Thus saying, the earl went back to the dining-hall; but the party was
diminished, for Mr. William Row was gone.
"I must go, too, my lord," said Oliphant, as the earl remarked upon
the absence of the minister, "for the truth is, my cousin, the Master,
is lying concealed in Perth, and we are to ride away at midnight, as
the king's people are seeking him for that affair in Angus."
"A bad affair it was!" replied the earl, gravely. "I should be sorry
to say anything harsh of your house, but the king is quite right not
to suffer such things."
"Ay, the Master is a born devil when his blood's up," replied
Oliphant. "I wont justify him, my lord; but he is yet my cousin, you
know, and so I must help him, and now I'll bid your lordship good
night, and may God protect you!"
"I trust he will!" replied the earl. "Good night;" and sitting down,
he filled a tall Venice glass with wine, and drank it off at a
draught, as if he were tired and thirsty.
A few minutes after, Mr. Rhind left him, saying he would go and help
to put the books to-rights in the study; and the earl and his brother
were once more left alone together. Gowrie, notwithstanding the
momentary sadness which had come over him just as Oliphant departed,
seemed more cheerful than he had been for many a day. The light and
playful wit which had distinguished him in Italy, sparkled forth anew;
and he spoke gaily and happily of his own prospects, suffering the
bright rays of hope to rest upon the future like sunshine on a hill.
"It will be very sweet, Alex," he said, joyously, "to spend our lives
together here, afar from those courtly scenes of which you have now
found the hollowness. After all, a court is a dull place, from which
even those who rule it must retire to some small domestic corner for
anything like happiness. Its wit is all restrained, its merriment
measured by line and rule; and its gayest sports, hampered by
fictitious proprieties, always put me in mind of a man I once saw at
Milan, who danced in iron fetters for the amusement of the spectators.
We shall be much happier here. Sometimes we can sail upon the Tay, and
perhaps win the speckled salmon out of the blue water. At other times
we will away to hunt the deer, or mingle with the good citizens in
their sports; and then for idler hours, we shall have books, and
music, and pleasant chat, and let the world wag at its will, knowing
little of its doings. In a varied round of duties, pleasures, and
affections, time may well glide by us quietly, till we find age
creeping on us unawares, and telling us, there is another place before
us where rest is perfected in joy.--But it is growing dark, Alex. We
will have lights for an hour, and then to bed. To-morrow--oh,
to-morrow! Then shall I hold my dear one to my heart again."
"My lord," said the earl's page, Walter Crookshanks, entering, "here
is Mr. Fleming with a message from the king for Mr. Alexander."
Gowrie looked towards his brother, whose face turned somewhat pale,
and then replied, "Give him admission, by all means."
The moment after a well-dressed and graceful young man was ushered
into the room, with whom the earl and his brother both shook hands.
"Welcome to Perth, Fleming," said the earl, "pray you sit down. You
bear a message from his majesty, I think."
"Not to your lordship," replied Fleming, taking a seat, "but to Mr.
Ruthven. He greets you well, sir, and bade me say that he requests
your presence at Falkland, to-morrow, at as early an hour as may be,
to see the running of a famous stag which his men have marked down
this evening. You must not be late, for his majesty will be away
sooner than usual."
"How many legs has the stag, Fleming?" asked Alexander Ruthven, with
an effort to laugh. "Four, I trust?"
Fleming gazed at him for an instant, apparently in some surprise.
"Ah!" he said at length, "I did not understand you. Four, by all
means. I heard the order for horses and hounds, myself. We are all in
mirth and high glee at Falkland. The king seems to have forgotten all
cares and crosses, and like an over-ripe gooseberry, seems ready to
burst with sweetness. No, no, there is no danger. If you are there
about eight o'clock, you will find the whole court in the saddle. Some
of the ladies even, I have heard, are likely to be out to see the run.
What shall I say to his majesty?"
Alexander Ruthven looked to his brother, and then replied, "Say that I
am his most devoted servant, and always ready to obey his will.--You
must not go dry lipped, Fleming, however," he continued, seeing the
young gentleman rise, as if to depart. "A cup of this old wine will
refresh you--your horse, too, has not had time to feed."
"He will carry me back fasting," answered Fleming; "but I must drink
to your good health, and to that of my lord, your brother. The king
never bethought himself of sending for you till three hours ago--foul
fall his memory! when, after talking with your sister the duchess, he
suddenly called out to me, 'Fleming, get on your beast's back, and
ride to Perth as if the de'il had ye. Tell the bairn Alex to come and
run the muckle hart wi' us the morn, and bid him no lose time by the
way. Some one here can lend him a horse, I trow, for his ane beast
will be weary!"
As he spoke he filled himself a cup of wine; and the earl asked who
was with the king when this was said.
"The duchess and Lady Mar," said Fleming. "They came into the small
room, at the top of the great staircase, my lord, where I had
ensconced myself to talk awhile with Margaret Hume, if the truth must
be told. But now I will wish you both good night, and away on my long
ride again."
The earl bade him adieu; and Alexander Ruthven saw him to his horse's
back. Then, returning to his brother, he said eagerly, "What shall I
do, Gowrie? This invitation is strange."
"Strange as the man who sent it," said Gowrie; "but yet methinks he
can intend you no ill; and, if you refuse to go, it will at once put
enmity between you and the king. If there is any evil designed, it is
clear Fleming has heard nought of it."
"I must go, I fear," said Alexander Ruthven. "I know not why
I feel such a dread; for it is just like the king, the whole
proceeding--friends with you to-day, at enmity to-morrow, then friends
with you again, if you show that you heed his wrath but little. It is
possible--nay, it is probable, that he intends no ill; but yet, I know
not why, I feel as if I were going to execution. How often have I
flown to that court with joy!--and now how different!"
"If such be your feelings, Alex, I would not have you go," replied his
brother. "I may perchance be superstitious in this, but I have often
thought that, as we see in beasts sympathies with the elements which
give them warning of coming changes, teaching them to fly to the open
fields when earthquakes are approaching, or look up to the sky and low
with joy when the refreshing shower is soon about to descend, so in
man's nature there may be sympathies with the finer elements that
involve his spiritual nature, giving intimation of coming joy or
peril. My own short experience and reading, narrow though it be, have
tended to confirm this notion; for I have seldom seen or known a bold
spirit seized with an unaccountable repugnance to an act, and do it,
without the consequences being disastrous to himself. Now, were you,
Alex, of a timid nature, given to unreasonable fears, I should make
light of such dreads; but as it is, and as you perhaps are but too
bold in character, they have more weight with me."
Alexander Ruthven thought for a moment or two deeply, and then
replied, with a sudden start, "No, I will go! I have been scanning my
own heart, Gowrie; and I think I can trace the cause of this dread to
a consciousness which has come upon me lately, that I have been more
faulty, in my thoughts at least, towards the king, than I believed
myself to be when I left Falkland. So faulty will I never be again;
and as the first fruit of a better spirit I will obey his command and
go."
Thus was it settled, then; and all that remained to be determined was,
who was to accompany Mr. Ruthven on his expedition.
"Take our cousin Andrew," said the young earl; "he is honest and
faithful, and well looked upon by the king. With your own servant and
one of mine that will be enough.--Henderson, too, is going to Ruthven
to see after the farms; he may as well accompany you part of the way,
and bring me back word if you find any cause of apprehension as you
go. Andrew is at Glenorchie's house hard by. Send him a message, and
he will go, I am sure." The two brothers retired soon after to rest;
but by four on the following morning Alexander was on horseback, and
in a few minutes, accompanied by his cousin Andrew Ruthven, and
followed by Henderson with two other servants, he was on his way to
Falkland. The apprehensions which he had experienced the night before
seemed now to have returned upon him in full force. He spoke little to
any one; and his first words to his cousin, after they had quitted
Perth, were, "I do not love this journey, Andrew. I know not why the
king has sent for me. It is very strange."
Still, however, he rode on vehemently, as if anxious to know his fate,
let it be for weal or woe, and in the end he outrode all his
companions, coming in sight of Falkland by seven o'clock.[7]
"The king will not be out for an hour," he said to himself, "and I can
learn from Beatrice whether there be any signs of danger."
Riding straight east, between the little town of Falkland and the
wood, the young gentleman took his way towards the stables, then
called "The Equerry," intending there to put up his horse and enter
the palace privately; but just as he was approaching the building, to
his surprise and disappointment, he saw the king already mounted, and
an immense train of courtiers and huntsmen, going forth nearly two
hours earlier than usual. There were some old hawthorns growing near,
and dismounting at once, he threw his rein over a branch, and advanced
to the side of James's horse. There kneeling on the soft grass he bent
his head, saying, "I have come at once to obey your majesty's
commands."
His heart beat for the next words; but James, with a smiling face,
leaned over the saddle, and threw his arm familiarly round the young
man's neck, saying, "That's a good bairn. Well I wot, I wish there
were many to obey as readily and speedily, Alex. Noo, man, get ye on
your beast and come wi' us, we'll show you fine sport the day."
The young gentleman obeyed at once; the cavalcade took its way to the
wood; the tracks of the buck were soon found, and the hounds put upon
the scent. Twice, I think, in other works I have described a royal
hunt; and here I will refrain, not alone on that account, but because
"the hunting of that day" was not of stag or roe.
As the noble beast, which was the pretended object of the morning's
chase, forced from his leafy covert, bounded away over the more open
ground, and hounds and hunters dashed after him, the royal cavalcade
was separated into small parties, and Alexander Ruthven asked eagerly
of one of the gentlemen near, where his acquaintance Fleming was that
morning.
"He was sent off to Leith at six o'clock, poor lad," said Lord
Lindores; "tired as a dog with hard riding last night, he had sore ill
will to go; but the king was peremptory."
"Alex Ruthven! Alex, bairn, ride close!" cried James, from a little
distance; "what are ye clavering about? Mind the sport--Come hither,
man, come hither!"
The young gentleman immediately obeyed, and rode up to the king's
side; and throughout the rest of the hunting, whenever he absented
himself for a moment he was recalled almost instantly, if he was seen
to be conversing with any one belonging to the court. So long as he
remained silent and apart, James took no notice, and appeared to be
busily engaged in the chase; but no sooner did Alexander open his lips
to any other than the king himself, the monarch's voice calling him up
sounded in his ears.
The hunt was long, considering the circumstances, for the deer was
forced by half-past eight, and was not pulled down till ten. All
gathered round the noble beast as he lay upon the ground, and every
one made way for the king to perform, as he so frequently did, the
last disgusting offices of the chase; but, to the surprise of all, and
the consternation of Alexander Ruthven, James remained upon his horse,
saying, "Noo, my lords and gentles, we've another ride before us.
We're awa to St. Johnstone, to visit our loyal friend, the Earl of
Gowrie; but we shall be back before night, so you needna seek your
night-caps."
"I fear, your majesty," said Alexander Ruthven, "that you will hardly
find my brother at his house. He purposed to go to Dirleton early
to-day."
"De'il tak it!" cried the king; "but 'tis no matter. We will ride the
faster and catch him, I do not doubt. Here, Alex, bairn, ride by us;
and tell us all about your brother's journey. Ye've seen the leddy,
I'll dar' to say."
The poor young man, alarmed and confounded, replied, in faltering
accents, that he had; and, in answer to James's questions, he
described his brother's promised bride as accurately as he could find
words to do, in the state of trepidation of his mind at the moment.
The monarch kept him by his side as much as possible; but in the
course of their long ride they were naturally separated more than
once; and the very first time their conversation was broken off,
Alexander Ruthven took the opportunity of asking Sir George Hume, a
distant cousin of the affianced husband of his sister, what could be
the motive of the king's journey?
"It is understood he is going to Perth," replied the other, "to seize
the Master of Oliphant, who has been committing cruel oppression in
Angus."
This information was some relief to the young gentleman's mind, for he
knew that the culprit mentioned had been in Perth the day before; and
riding up to the king's side again, he said, "Perhaps your majesty
will allow me to go forward and give notice of your coming. I may so
catch my brother before he departs, and enable him to prepare for your
reception."
"No, no," replied the king; "my coming must be kept quite quiet till I
am there. As to the reception, we shall do well enough. You stay and
ride with us."
The young gentleman fell back again, with a gloomy and apprehensive
countenance; and James, turning to the Duke of Lennox, who was riding
on his other hand, said, in a low tone, "Do you see how scared he
looks? What know you of the lad's nature, my lord duke--is he given to
such high apprehensions?"
"I only know, your majesty," answered Lennox, "that he is a very
honest and discreet young gentleman, as far as my observation goes."
James mused for a moment or two, and then said, in a low tone, gazing
with a cunning look in the duke's face, "You cannot guess, man, the
errand I am riding for--I am going to get a pose in Perth."
"Indeed, sire," said Lennox, drily; "I am glad to hear it. I hope it
may be a large one."
"I dinna ken," replied the king, in the same low tone; "but the bairn
Alex came to me just when we were going out for the hunting, and told
me that he had got a stranger man locked up at Gowrie Place, whom he
had found in Perth with a pitcher full of gold pieces. He besought me
to come away directly and take it, and to make haste and come
privately, for his brother, the earl, knows nothing of it; and he's
feared that the man might cry out."[8]
"I do not like the story at all, sire," answered Lennox, with an
exceedingly grave face; "and were I in your majesty's place, I would
not go. The thing is quite childlike and improbable. How should
Alexander seize such a person and confine him in Gowrie House without
his brother knowing it? The house is the earl's; the servants there
are his; he is provost of Perth, and high-sheriff of the county. Were
it not better, sire, to dispatch two or three of us on to tell the
earl, on your part, what his brother has related, and to command him
to bring or send the man and his pot of gold before your majesty?"
"No, no," answered James; "I will e'en just go myself; but look well
where I go with the bairn Alex, when I am there."
The Duke of Lennox was silent; but in the course of the ride James
told the same story, and in the same low tone, to several of the other
courtiers. It was heard by every one with looks of suspicion, though
it may be very doubtful whether they imputed the falsehood to the king
or to Alexander Ruthven.
Even to Sir Hugh Herries his majesty repeated the tale, with a low
chuckle at the same time.
Herries shrugged his shoulders, with what perhaps might be termed a
look of contempt; but he merely replied, "I wish the tale were more
probable."
When the head of the royal cavalcade were within two miles of Perth,
but not before, James called Alexander Ruthven to his side, and said,
"You may now send one of your folk forward to tell your brother we are
coming this way, but stay you here yourself."
"I will send my cousin Andrew, please your majesty," replied Alexander
Ruthven.
"Well, call him up, call him up," said the king; and the young man's
hope of sending a private message to his brother was disappointed.
Gloomy and sad, he rode a step or two behind the king, till they were
within less than a mile of the town; but then again James, turning his
head, gave him a keen and scrutinizing look, and said, "Now, Alex,
bairn, ye may ride on to your brother."
The young man struck his spurs deep into his tired horse's flanks, and
dashed past the king with a low bow.