What had become of Gowrie while this dark tragedy was enacted above?
He was standing, as I have said, talking with Sir Thomas Erskine and a
considerable party of noblemen and gentlemen, in the street, at a
little distance from his own gate, when suddenly the window above was
thrown open, and the king's head thrust forth. Bailie Roy had sidled
up towards the group of courtiers; and he instantly looked up, while
the Duke of Lennox, at the first sounds of James's outcry, exclaimed,
"That is the king's voice, Mar, be he where he will."
"Treason! treason!" shouted Bailie Roy. "Treason against the
king!--Ring the common bell!--Call the town to arms!--Treason!
treason!"
At the same moment, and without an instant's pause, Lennox, Mar,
Lindores, and others, rushed into the court, as I have before stated,
and up the broad stairs, and Sir Thomas Erskine, his brother James,
and George Wilson, the servant of the latter, sprang at Gowrie's
throat, and seized him by the neck, crying, without proof or even
probability, "Traitor, this is thy deed! Thou shalt die!"
Totally unarmed, and assailed by three strong armed men, the young
earl, notwithstanding his great personal vigour, must have been
overpowered in an instant, and probably would have been slain on the
spot, for he made no resistance, merely exclaiming, with a look of
consternation, "What is the matter?--I know nothing!"
But at that moment Alexander Ruthven of Freeland started forward to
his aid, and having no sword, struck Sir Thomas Erskine to the ground
with a buffet, while Mr. Cranston and Donald Macduff rushed forth from
the court to the rescue of their lord. Almost at the same time, the
voice of Ramsay was heard shouting to Sir Thomas Erskine from the
window above; and springing up from the ground, Erskine ran into the
court with George Wilson, the servant, and rushed up the narrow
turnpike stairs after Herries, to finish the murderous work which had
begun in the tower.
Freed from the fell hands which had grasped his throat, Gowrie gazed
round bewildered, exclaiming, "My God! what can this mean?"
"Arm, arm, my lord!" cried Macduff; "they are for murdering you on
pretence of treason."
But Gowrie rushed immediately towards the palace gates, exclaiming,
"Where is the king? I go to aid him."
As he approached, however, the gates were suddenly closed in his face
by his own porter, Christie, and a voice called through the bars,
"Traitor, you enter not here!"
"Arm, in God's name, or they will take your life!" cried Cranston,
seeing a number of the Murrays and the king's followers gathering
round.
"That I will," answered Gowrie, now roused to anger. "Away to
Glenorchie's! He will give us arms;" and running with all speed about
a couple of hundred yards down the street, he entered the large old
house of a friend of his family, and seized a sword and steel cap from
amongst many that hung in the outer hall.
"Here's a better blade, my noble lord!" cried Glenorchie's old porter;
"take them both--one may fail!"
Thus armed with a sword in either hand, Gowrie rushed out again,
exclaiming, "I will either enter my own house or die by the way."
"I am with you, my lord," cried Cranston, meeting him; and at the same
moment his page, who was running down the street, exclaimed, "Let me
fasten your salat, my lord; it will fall off."
Gowrie paused for an instant till the steel cap was clasped under his
chin, and then hurried on to the entrance of the Great House.
But a change had taken place. The gates were wide open; the servants
and retainers who had followed the king from Falkland, were all either
in the house or at the further side of the court; and without pausing
to ask any question, Gowrie rushed to the narrow stair at the foot of
the southwest tower, and ran up, followed close by his faithful
attendant, Cranston.
The door at the top, leading into the gallery chamber, was partly
closed, and a shoulder placed against it; but Gowrie pushed it open,
exclaiming, "Where is the king?--I come to defend him with my life,"
and at once entered the room with the two naked swords in his hands.
Before him lay a dead body bleeding profusely, and partly covered with
the king's cloak.
"You have killed the king, our master," cried Herries, "and will you
now take our lives?"
Gowrie's strength seemed to fail him in a moment--His brain
reeled--and pausing suddenly in his advance, he dropped the swords'
points to the floor, exclaiming, "Ah, woe is me! Has the king been
slain in my house?"
Without reply, Ramsay sprang fiercely upon him, and, unresisted, drove
his dagger into the young earl's heart.
Gowrie did not fall at once, but for one instant leaned upon the sword
in his right hand, without attempting to strike a blow. Cranston
sprang forward to support him, and caught him in his arms; but the
earl sank slowly to the ground, and with the indistinct murmur of one
well-loved name, expired.
The murderers gazed upon their victim for a moment in silence; but it
was no time now for hesitation or inactivity. They were four in
number, it is true, and there remained but one living man opposed to
them in the gallery chamber; but the sound of persons ascending the
turret-staircase was heard, and Erskine rushed upon Cranston with his
sword drawn.
Cranston, furious at the base treatment of a lord he loved and
reverenced, instantly repelled the attack, and, no mean swordsman,
wounded Erskine in hand and arm; but all the others fell upon him, and
drove him back to the head of the staircase. Succour, however, was
near; for three gentlemen, headed by Hugh Moncrief, who had dined with
the earl that day, alarmed by the tumult, and the vague rumours that
were circulated below, were now rushing up--unhappily, too late--to
the assistance of the noble friend whom they had lost for ever.
Unprepared for meeting immediate hostility, however, they were
encountered at the very entrance of the room by those who were too
ready to receive them, and after a sharp but short encounter were
driven down, as well as Cranston, into the court-yard. Hugh Moncrief,
Patrick Eviot, and Henry Ruthven of Freeland, forced their way into
the street, and joined a small knot of the dead earl's friends
collected under the window; but Cranston, less fortunate, was taken in
the court-yard.
The situation of the king, however, was less safe than he had imagined
it would be. There was much tumult in the streets of Perth, where the
family of the dead had ever been extremely popular; and when James,
informed that the deed he had long meditated was fully executed, came
forth from the cabinet, it was with a pale face, for seditious cries
were rising up from beneath the windows, and one of the most loyal
towns in Scotland was well nigh in a state of insurrection.
"Give us our noble provost," cried one, "or the king's green coat
shall pay for it."
"Come down, thou son of Signor David!" shouted another; "thou hast
slain an honester man than thyself."
The next minute, however, the head of Robert Brown, one of the king's
lacquies, appeared at the door of the gallery-chamber, to which he had
crept quietly, and casting himself on his knees before James, he said,
"God save your majesty! There are the Duke of Lennox and Earl of Mar,
with eight or ten of your best friends, in the gallery there, but they
can not get in to your help, for the door is locked."
"God's sake! let them in!" cried James; and strange to say! from
amongst the party present, the key of the gallery door was produced,
and Lennox and the other gentlemen admitted.
The door was instantly locked again, although the purposes for which
it had been first secured were now accomplished. Fortunately for the
king was such precaution taken; for, almost immediately after, a
number of Gowrie's friends and servants rushed to the gallery, loudly
demanding their lord and kinsman. Vain efforts were made to burst open
the door; swords were thrust through where a crevice gave the means,
and one of the Murrays, leaning against the partition, was wounded in
the leg. The voice of Alexander Ruthven of Freeland was then heard
exclaiming, "My lord duke, for God's sake tell me the truth! How goes
it with my Lord of Gowrie?"
"He is well," answered Lennox, in a sad tone. "But thou art a fool. Go
thy way: thou wilt get little thanks for thy present labour."
Still the tumult in the street increased, the common bell of the town
continued ringing, and James became seriously alarmed.
"Run down, my Lord of Mar--run down," he said, "and take good heed to
the court and all the gates. Drive out all the traitor's people or
slay them, and then set a good guard at each of the gates and in the
gardens. Young Tullibardine is in the town with all his men. Could ye
not find him, meikle John Murray?"
"I will try, your majesty," replied Murray of Arknay, who had been
wounded in the leg; "but there is Blair of Balthayock, with full fifty
men in the hall. He can keep the gates."
"Ay, tell him--tell him," cried James; "the lad Christie will show him
all the points of defence. Christie's a good serviceable body, and
shall be weel rewarded. Now, gentlemen," he continued, "let us proceed
to the examination of the dead traitors' persons. We may find
somewhat, perchance, that will tend to the purposes of justice.
Uncover that one first, and see what you can find."
The cloak was then removed from the body of Alexander Ruthven, and
without stopping to look at his handsome face, now calm in the
tranquillity of death, the courtiers searched his pockets. Little was
found, indeed, except a purse containing a small sum of money, and a
letter, which was handed immediately to the king, for it was in his
own handwriting.
"That must be put out o' the way," said James, looking at it. "Is
there a fire in the kitchen?"
"Oh, yes, there must be," replied Ramsay; and after tearing the letter
into very small pieces, the king gave it to his page, saying, "Put
them in the fire, Jock, instanter. But bide a wee--there may be mair."
"There is nothing more, sire," said the Earl of Mar, and then added,
"His sword has never been drawn--it is rusted in the sheath."
"That has nothing to do wi' it," cried the monarch, angrily. "Search
the other man--see what ye can find on him."
"Here is something worth finding," exclaimed Sir Thomas Erskine, who
had unclasped Gowrie's belt, and now held up the scheme of the young
earl's nativity, as drawn out by Manucci, displaying the various signs
and figures which it contained to the by-standers.
"It's magic!" cried the king, in great delight. "I tell't ye so. He
was a dealer with sorcerers and devils, and would have taken our life
by his damnable arts. I kenned it weel. I tell't ye, Jock Ramsay."
"And me too, sire," said Herries. "Your majesty's wisdom is never at
fault."
"See, the body does not bleed!" cried the king; "this is a magical
spell, upon my life. Turn him over, he will soon bleed now this is
taken away."
And so, indeed, it proved; for as soon as the body was turned over, so
as to bring the wound of which he had died in a different position,
the dark blood poured forth in a torrent.
While they were gazing at this sight, and the king was again and again
pronouncing that the paper he now held in his hand was a magical
spell, the noises in the street suddenly increased very greatly, but
the tone seemed to be different.
"De'il's in they folk!" cried the king; "will they pu' the house down?
Look out of the window, my Lord of Mar."
"These are some friends that are crying now," said Mar, after looking
from the window. "The bailies and their folk have forced their way in
amongst the mob, and seem well affected." Then leaning forth from the
window, he listened for a moment to something that was shouted up from
below. "They desire to see with their own eyes that your majesty is
safe," he continued, turning again to James, "and to receive your
commands from your own lips."
"Is it safe, man? Is it sure?" demanded the king. "Are they no
feigning?"
"No, no," replied Mar. "They have got that little Bailie Roy, I think
they call him, at their head."
"Oo, ay, that wee pookit like body Roy," cried James. "I'm no feared
o' him;" and, advancing to the window, he cried, at the utmost extent
of his voice, "Bailie Roy, Bailie Roy, I am safe and well, praise be
to God! And I strictly command you to cause all the people to disperse
and retire quietly to their lodgings."
This said, he withdrew his head again; and the good bailie made every
effort in his power to obey the royal injunction and disperse the
people. But his municipal eloquence, and his proclamation at the
market-cross, proved of little effect: an immense crowd continued to
occupy the street before the Great House, and cries and imprecations
upon those who had slain the innocent, continued to rise up from time
to time.
It is not, indeed, improbable that, but for the imposing numbers which
Blair of Balthayock kept drawn up in the court-yard, with their swords
unsheathed, and which could be seen by the people through the iron
gates, the mob would have burst in, and, as Nisbet says in his
Heraldry, would have cut the court to pieces.
For more than an hour, James and his principal nobles and favourites
continued in deliberation up stairs, the nature of which only
transpired in vague rumours. It is supposed by some, that this hour
was spent in patching together the somewhat disjointed tale which was
afterwards given to the public on royal authority, and in endeavouring
to make the story which James had previously told in coming from
Falkland, harmonize in some degree with the dark and bloody
transactions which had followed.
However that may be, there was still, at seven o'clock, so great a
multitude assembled in the street as to render it dangerous for the
king to attempt to pass that way. The porter, Christie, and a man
named Dogie, were sent for to the king's presence, and acting upon a
suggestion they threw out, it was resolved that a boat should be
brought down to the garden stairs, by which James and his principal
courtiers should be conveyed along the Tay to the South Inch, while
the rest of the monarch's retinue should attempt the passage by the
streets; and the young master of Tullibardine should be directed, with
the strong body of horse he had brought into the town, to guard all
approach to the Inch against those who had not a certain pass-word.
This was executed skilfully and promptly; and towards eight o'clock,
under a gloomy sky and heavy rain, James mounted his horse at the
South Inch, and escorted by Tullibardine and the Murrays, rode away
towards Falkland.
Thus perished the noble, the brave, and true! Thus triumphed the
feeble, the base, and treacherous! Let any man read attentively the
page of history, where too many events like this are recorded, and
then doubt, if he can, the coming of a future state where such things
shall be made equal.