MAGDALENE OF FRANCE.
"Saw'st thou not the great preparatives
Of Edinburgh, that famous noble town;
Thou saw'st the people labouring for their lives,
To make triumph with trump and clarion:
Thou saw'st full well many a fresh galland,
Well ordered for receiving of their queen,
Each craftsman with his bent bow in his hand,
Right gallantlie in clothing short of green."
LlNDESAY OF THE MOUNT.
"Their graces tarry long," said the countess, glancing impatiently up
the street; "it is almost midday by the sun. Jane, child, hast got
thy pocket-dial about thee?"
Lady Jane took from her embroidered girdle a little silver dial, and
placing it duly east and west, found the hour to be twelve by the
shadow of the gnomon, for the sun shone brightly.
"I warrant me," said the countess, "that his eminence the cardinal
will be relieving himself of some prosy oration at the foot of the
Broad Wynd, for the benefit of the king's grace."
"Of the queen's, you mean, Lady Ashkirk," said Alison Home, "for his
lordship is a great admirer of beauty. Thou knowest, cousin Jane,
how often he hath admired thee."
Jane coloured with something of displeasure at this remark, for, by
the rumour of his gallantries, to be admired by this great prelate
was no high honour.
"I would the king were come, for my patience is wearing fast away,"
said she, raising her bright eyes from the silver index to her
mother's thoughtful face.
"Is it for the king alone thou art so impatient, child?" said the old
lady, with a keen but smiling glance.
"Nay, for one who accompanies him for the queen," said Jane, growing
pale, for she always turned pale where others grew red. "Is not
James the avowed enemy of our house?"
"But is there no other for whom ye long, silly lassie?" asked Marion
Logan, throwing an arm round Jane.
"My sweet friend--yes; for one who is dearer to me almost than thee;
he who sent me this dial from Paris. Oh, Marion! to think that he
hath been there for nine weary months!"
"Marry come up, bairn, what matters it?" said the countess, who
overheard them, though the two fair friends spoke in low tones; "he
will be so changed, and improved in gallantry and grace, that you
will scarcely recognise him."
"I cry you mercy, mother," said Jane, pouting; "I knew not that he
required improvement in either."
"By my troth, lady countess," said Alison Home, "if you mean Sir
Rowland Vipont, the Master of the King's Ordnance, I think him so
finished a cavalier that no court in Europe could improve him more."
"Save the court of King Cupid," said Marion.
"And where does he reign?" asked Jane.
"In thine own heart, cousin," said little Sybil, quietly; and then
all the girls laughed aloud.
"I thank you, sweet Alison," said Jane, in a low voice, kissing her
friend, for her heart danced lightly to hear her lover praised; "but
dost thou know that, though I am full of joy, I would give the world
to shed a shower of quiet tears just now."
"Heaven give thee happiness to-day, dear Jane," replied her friend,
in the same soft, earnest voice, "and may it send thy lover back to
thee in love and truth, and health and comeliness, as when he left
thee these nine long months ago."
"Sabrino," said the countess, suddenly; "prick up those long ears of
thine! dost thou not hear the sound of trumpets?"
"Ees, madame--me tink so," grinned the sable page, whose efforts at
articulation cost him a fearful grimace.
"Then, James must be ascending the West Bow," replied the countess,
as a commotion and murmur became apparent among the mighty masses
that crowded the whole street.
At that moment the roar of the castle artillery pealed over the city,
and announced the entrance of the king by its western barrier, along
the Highrigs, past the tilting-ground and the chapel of the Virgin
Mary. Deeply and hoarsely carthoun and culverin thundered from the
towers of St. Margaret and King David, and a deafening shout of
welcome and acclamation resounded from the crowded streets.
"Though the enemy and oppressor of the Douglases and the Homes,"
continued the countess, standing up in front of the balcony, "I
cannot forget that he is our anointed king--that he has long been
absent, and has endured great perils by sea and land; and so this day
I bid him hail and welcome home in the name of Heaven."
"'Tis said the queen will ride behind him on a pillion," said Alison
Home.
"Nay, child," replied the countess; "the Master of the Horse passed
up street with a beautiful palfrey of spotless white, having a golden
footcloth that swept the ground, for her grace's especial behoof.
Ha! bairns, the mention of pillions remindeth me of the days of our
good King James IV. I was but a lassie then, in my teens, like
yourselves; and when James espoused the younger sister of Henry
Tudor, though liking not the English match, I was appointed a lady of
honour to Queen Margaret, for then--(and the countess spoke
bitterly)--_then_ to be a Douglas was different from what it is
to-day! Like his son, James IV. was then a winsome youth, and fair
to look upon. Few matched him for courage and hardiment in the
field, and none surpassed him in grace and courtly devoir. Amid a
gallant band of spears, with ladies, lords and knights, all clad in
silk and taffety, laced and furred with miniver, with many a waving
plume, and many a golden chain, they issued forth from Saint Mary of
Newbattle, beneath the old oak trees, and James had his fair young
English bride behind him on a pillion, riding just like any douce
farmer and his gudewife, and, certes! a bonnie young pair they were
as ever had holy water sprinkled on their bended heads! James was
bravely attired--a doublet of velvet bordered with cloth-of-gold, and
his bride was blazing with diamonds. As we rode townward, by the
wayside, near Our Lady's Well at Kirk Liberton, we saw a fair
pavilion pitched on the green brae side, and at the door thereof
stood a lance fixed in the earth, with a shield hung upon it. A
lady, holding a siller bugle horn, came forth to greet the royal
pair, when suddenly, a savage knight, mounted, and clad in a lion's
skin, dashed out of a neighbouring coppice and bore her away. Then,
lo! another knight, armed at all points, spurred his fleet horse from
the gay pavilion, and assailed him with uplifted sword. Bravely they
fell on, with the captive dame between them, and the keen-edged
blades made ilka tempered casque and corselet ring like kirk bells on
a festival. The rescuer struck the sword from the hand of his enemy,
the king cried, 'Redd ye, sirs!' and so the combat was closed, and
the lady released."
"And who was this fair dame?" asked Alison, with assumed curiosity,
for she had heard the same story, in the same words, a hundred times
before.
"Whom think ye, but _I_; and my leal Lord Archibald was the errant
knight who saved me from the savage warrior, and _he_ was no other
than thy father, dear Alison, Sir Cuthbert Home of Fastcastle, who
died by King James's side at Flodden; for you must know, maidens,
that it was all a fair masque prepared to suit the warlike taste of
the king, who loved well to see his knights under harness, and
proving their hardiment on each other's coats of mail. All that and
mickle mair I remember as if 'twere yesterday, and now 'tis three and
thirty years ago. Three and thirty!" continued the garrulous old
lady, "how the false traitors Death and Time have changed my cheer
since then."
"True, madam," said little Sybil, thoughtfully; "the best part of our
life is made up of the anticipations of hope, and the pleasures, the
sad pleasures, of memory."
"Thy thoughts are running on my son, Lord Archibald," said the
countess, with a fond smile, as she smoothed the thick tresses of
Sybil. "The first is for the young like you, and the last to solace
the auld like me. St. Mary keep us! how year runs after year. My
fair bairns, I hope a time may come when ye will all look back to
_this_ day as I do to that; but not with a sigh, to think such things
have been, but can never be again!"
The countess sighed, and a tear stole into her eye; but a cry from
the girls of--
"Oh! here they come--the king and queen!" followed by a clapping of
hands, and a burst of acclamation from the populace, amid which the
old cry, which the Scots had lately borrowed from their allies, the
French--"Vive la Royne! Vive la Royne!" was conspicuous. It was a
shout that rang from the crowded streets below, the windows and
bartizans above, loud enough to rend the summer welkin, and heralded
the approach of James and his French bride.
The occasional flourish of trumpets, mingled with the sound of the
drum, the shalm, the cymbal, the clarion, and the clang of hoofs,
rang in the lofty street. Spears glittered, banners waved, and
silken pennons streamed in the sunlight at a distance, above the sea
of heads; while armour flashed, and embroidery sparkled, as the
superb procession, conveying the royal pair to Holyrood, approached.
Under the high sheriff of Lothian and Sir Andrew Preston of Gourtoun,
a strong body of mounted spearmen, sheathed in dark armour, cleared
and lined the streets, while the provost, Sir James Lawson of the
Highrigs, chequered them with several thousands of the burgher
archers and craftsmen, for each armed corporation was arrayed under
its own pennon; and the great consecrated standard of the city,
bearing the image of Saint Giles, floated near the battlements of the
Cross--as tradition avers it floated over Salem. A volume would be
required to describe the magnificence of the romantic pageant that
now approached; for James, as I have said, was the idol of his
people, and a nine months' absence had endeared him to them more; and
all their loyalty and enthusiasm now blazed forth at his return.
First came three hundred of his royal guard, clad in blue bonnets and
scarlet doublets, armed with long partizans and poniards. These were
all men of Edinburgh, given by the city to attend James "on all
occasions, especially against his auld and auncient enemies of
England." Then came a long train of that fierce and proud nobility
whose turbulence and intrigues ultimately broke the good king's
heart. They wore robes of state over their rich armour; their
jewelled coronets were borne before, and their gallant banners behind
them; each was attended by a knight, a page, an esquire, or other
gentleman, in accordance with his rank. Then came the lesser barons,
each riding with his pennon displayed; and then the honourable
commissioners of burghs, clad in gowns of scarlet, with gold chains;
the twelve heralds and pursuivants, with six bannered trumpets,
sounding before them a triumphal march, to which the kettle-drums and
cymbals of the horsemen lent additional animation.
But the shouts which greeted this part of the procession became
subdued; for now came a single horseman, riding alone, with a page on
each side supporting his footcloth, which was composed entirely of
cloth-of-gold. He was a man of a singularly noble presence and
commanding stature; his deep dark eyes were full of fire and
expression, yet his face was calm and placid, and his gaze was fixed
on the flowing mane of his beautiful roan horse; and though every
head bowed at his approach, he seemed abstracted and oblivious of
all; his cope and stockings were scarlet, and a very broad hat of the
same sanguine hue cast a pleasant shadow over his sombre features.
"Rise, my bairns," said the Countess of Ashkirk; "it is his eminence
the cardinal!"
And chancing to raise his head at that moment, he waved a benediction
towards the balcony. He was David Beaton, cardinal of St. Stephen,
the lord high chancellor of Scotland, legate of Paul III., and the
terror of those who, in their secret hearts, had begun to nourish the
doctrines of the reformed church. A young cavalier, in a half suit
of magnificently gilded armour, attended him, and spent his time
between caressing a falcon which sat upon his dexter wrist, and
bowing to the ladies on either side of the street. He was Sir Norman
Leslie of Rothes, who, a few years after, slew the cardinal in his
archiepiscopal palace. Immediately behind him came a crowd of
ecclesiastics, and the eight bishops--Stewart of Aberdeen, Hepburn of
Brechin, Chisholm, the worthless holder of the see of Dunblane,
Dunkeld, Moray, Ross, Orkney, and Ferquhard of the Isles, all riding
on led horses, with their mitres, crosiers, and magnificent
vestments, glittering in the sunlight.
Then came the black abbot of Cambus Kenneth (the lord president of
the New College of Justice), attended by his fourteen senators, the
_ten_ sworn advocates, the clerks to the signet, notaries and macers
of court, all of whom were greeted with lowering brows and murmurs of
ill-repressed hatred and dislike; for the introduction of the courts
of session and justiciary had been a very unpalateable measure to the
factious and turbulent Scots.
Surrounded by the chief ladies of the kingdom, and by the damsels of
honour all richly attired in hoods of velvet tied with strings of
pearl, with kirtles of brocade and cloth-of-gold, Magdalene of France
approached on a palfrey white as the new fallen snow, with six young
knights (each the son of an earl) supporting on their lances a silken
canopy above her head. The splendour of her dress, which was shining
with costly jewels, enhanced the greatness of her beauty, which
outshone the charms of all around her, even the fair girls to whom
the reader has been so lately introduced. Sprung from a royal line
long famous for the charms of its princesses, Magdalene was only in
her sixteenth year; but over her girlish loveliness the pallor of
consumption was then spreading a veil more tender and enchanting.
The novelty and excitement of the scene around lent additional
animation to her lively French features, and heightened the
brilliancy of her complexion, which was exquisitely fair; her eyes
were light blue, and her braided hair was of the most beautiful
blonde. She was rather small in stature, but beautifully formed; and
the sweetness of her happy smile, and the grace with which she bowed
and kissed both her hands alternately to the subjects of her husband,
filled them with a storm of enthusiasm; and the respectful silence
which had greeted her at first, expanded into a burst of rapture and
congratulation. The ambassadors of England, Spain, France, and
Savoy, wearing the collars of various knightly orders, rode near her.
With the sword, sceptre, and crown, borne, each by an earl, before
him, James appeared, attended by the leading nobles of the realm. A
cuirass of steel, polished like a mirror and inlaid with gold, showed
to advantage his bold breast and taper waist. His doublet and trunk
breeches were of white satin slashed with yellow and buttoned with
diamonds, and his short mantle of azure velvet was tied over his
breast with golden tassels. The collars of the Thistle, the Garter,
the Golden Fleece, and the escallops of St. Michael, were hanging on
his breast, and flashed in one broad blaze to the noon-day sun. His
dark eyes were full of animation, and the ringlets of his rich brown
hair fluttered in the breeze as he waved his plumed cap to the people
who loved him well, for he was better pleased to be thought the king
of the poor than king of the peers of Scotland. He was surrounded by
all the great officers of state and household; Robert, abbot of
Holyrood, bearing his high treasurer's mace with its beryl ball, rode
beside Colville of Culross, the great chamberlain of Scotland. Then
came the lord high constable and the great marischal, the former with
a naked sword, and the latter with an axe, borne before him; Colville
of Ochiltrie, the comptroller; the dean of Glasgow, the secretary of
state; Argyle, the lord justice-general, and Colinton, the lord clerk
registrar; Lord Evandale, director of the chancery, the preceptor of
the Knights of St. John, the high admiral, the royal standard-bearer,
the grand carver, the great cup-bearer, the masters of the horse, the
hounds, and the falcons, the marshal of the household, and though
last, not least, Jock Macilree, the king's jester, who has been
immortalized by the Knight of the Mount; and though ignobly
bestriding a sleek donkey, his parti-coloured garb, his longeared
cap, jingling bells, hanging bladder, and resounding laugh, attracted
more attention than the mailed chivalry and sumptuously-attired
noblesse who encircled the king.
James, who bowed affably to the people on every side, was scrupulous
in recognising all ladies, especially if handsome, and consequently
the bright group clustered round the Countess of Ashkirk could not
escape his observation. Waving his bonnet, he was about to bow to
his horse's mane, when his eye caught the quarterings of Douglas, and
an ominous flash of undisguised anger immediately crimsoned his fine
features; he was turning away, when a rose was thrown upon his
breast, and a pleasant voice cried,
"Heaven save your grace, and bless our fair lady the queen!"
It was Jane Seton's voice, and the richness of its tone with the
sweetness of her smile subdued James at once; and placing the rose in
the diamond George that hung from the splendid collar of the garter,
this gallant young king bowed low, and kissed his hand.
"Hark you, Vipont," said he, to a handsome young man about his own
age, who rode by his side; "what dame and damoiselles are these? You
vailed your bonnet with more than usual reverence to them."
The cavalier hesitated.
"Faith," continued James, "there was a most undeniable scowl in the
dark eyes of the elder lady in that outrageous English coif. Who is
she, and why, i' the devil's name, does she wear _that_?"
"I trust your majesty is mistaken," replied the young man, hurriedly,
and with confusion; "she is the countess dowager of Ashkirk, with her
daughter the Lady Jane."
"Ashkirk!" reiterated James, knitting his brows; "is she not a
daughter of old Greysteel, and hath more than a spark of old
Bell-the-cat in her spirit? By St. Anne, this accounts for her
English coif, when, out of compliment to our royal consort, the
French fashions are all in vogue!"
"Please your majesty," urged Vipont----
"I remember the dame of old, in the days of the Douglases' tyranny,
when they kept me a close captive in the old tower of Falkland.
God's malison on the whole tribe; I would it had but one neck, and
that it lay under my heel!"
"Amen, say I;" "and I," "and I," added several courtiers, who enjoyed
gifts from the forfeited estates of the banished barons.
The young man sighed and bit his lips as he checked his horse a
little, and permitted Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, another
favourite, to assume his place by the side of the king.
Tall, and finely formed, with an erect bearing and athletic figure,
Sir Roland Vipont was the very model of a graceful cavalier. His
features, though not strictly handsome, were pleasing, manly, and
expressive of health, good humour, and the utmost frankness. His
heavy moustaches were pointed sharply upwards, and his hair was shorn
close (_à la_ Philip II.), to permit his wearing a helmet with ease,
for, as master of the royal ordnance, a week seldom passed in those
turbulent times without his being engaged on the king's service. A
smart bonnet of blue velvet, adorned by a single feather, by its
elegant slouch gave a grace to the contour of his head; while a short
mantle of the same material, lined with white satin, and furred, as
usual, with miniver, waved from his left shoulder. His trunk
breeches were also of white satin, and slashed with red; his doublet
was cloth-of-gold, and, blazing in the sunlight, rivalled his
magnificent baldrick, which, like his bugle-horn, sword, and dagger,
was studded with precious stones. No knight present, not even the
king himself, surpassed the master of the ordnance in the splendour
of attire, the caparisons of his horse, or the grace with which he
managed it; and yet poor Sir Roland, though the last representative
of the Viponts of Fifeshire (the Scoto-Norman barons of Aberdour),
possessed not one acre of land, and, soldier-like, carried all his
riches about him.
His whole features beamed with joy and ardour, as he raised his eyes
to the Ashkirk balcony; his sunburned cheek grew crimson, and his
heart bounded with delight. Jane trembled as she smiled, and grew
pale (for, as I have said elsewhere, she grew pale when other girls
would have blushed). Many months had elapsed since they had looked
on each other's beaming faces, and a volume of happiness and
recognition was exchanged in their mutual glances.
"Brave Vipont!" exclaimed the old countess, with something of a
mother's ardour, as she looked after him, "of a verity, there are few
more noble among our Scottish knights. How unfortunate that he is
such a minion to the will of a pampered king!"
"Minion, good mother!" said Jane, faintly.
"I said minion, child; and I now say slave! Didst thou not see how
covertly he bowed to us, and then only when the king looked another
way? A proper squire, by our Lady! and didst thou not mark how James
frowned when first he saw us, nor bowed----"
"Until I smiled on him," said Jane, playfully.
"Naughty little varlet, methought 'twas when _I_ smiled," said Alison
Home, gaily, as she kissed her beautiful friend.
"Poor Vipont!" continued the countess, "he dreads the loss of thy
love, Jane, on one hand, and of the king's favour on the other. But
for this paltry manoeuvring, child, thou hadst been the lady of his
heart a year ago."
"Mother, I have been the lady of his heart these _three_ years; but
poor Roland hath no more to give me than a heart in return. His
estate----"
"Consists of old Mons Meg and her marrows," said Marion Logan.
"A lucrative estate he hath found them sometimes," said the countess,
coldly, "when he bent their cannon-balls against the castles of the
Douglases. But for this paltry fear, I repeat, thou hadst been his
wedded wife a year ago, and he had been now a true man to the Earls
of Ashkirk and Angus, instead of being the silken slave of James
Stuart, whose poor ambition is to grind beneath his heel that Red
Heart which my husband hath often bore, amid crashing spears, in the
van of Scotland's battles--and ever bore victoriously!" And as she
spoke, the countess struck her clenched hand upon the banner which
was spread over the balcony before her.
"Thou sayest well, dearest madam!" said little Sybil Douglas, whose
dark eyes sparkled as she imbibed some of the countess's fiery
spirit; "and again that Red Heart shall be a terror to the Lowlands,
and a scourge for past injuries."
At that moment Lady Jane Seton raised her eyes to a window opposite,
and encountered the fixed gaze of a sickly and ghastly face; the
features were rigid, the lips firmly compressed, the dark eyes were
fiery and red. There was a basilisk or rattlesnake expression in
them that riveted her attention. They were those of Sir Adam
Otterburn of Redhall, who had been attentively observing the greeting
which passed between her and Vipont--a greeting that wrung his heart
with agony and jealousy; but he bowed with studied politeness, and
hurriedly withdrew.
Jane felt relieved by his absence, and again drew breath more freely;
but her colour came and went, and her heart for a moment became
filled (she knew not why) with vague apprehensions. She knew all Sir
Adam's glance conveyed, and trembled for her lover; for the King's
Advocate of the New Court was then vested with such powers and
terrors as a romancer would alone endow a grand inquisitor.
The pageant passed on to Holyrood accompanied by loud and incessant
bursts of acclamation; by songs and carols of welcome and of triumph;
for the people, already predisposed to loyalty and jollity, were
enraptured by the return of the king, by the gallantry of his
bearing, and the beauty of his young French bride. Thus the wells
continued to pour forth wine and ale alternately, the castle to fire
its ordnance, and the people to shout until St. Marie (a great bell
with a very sweet tone, which then hung in the rood tower of St.
Giles) rung the citizens to vespers and to rest.