THE FORTUNATE SWORD-THRUST.
"Adew Edinburgh! that heich triumphant toun,
Within quhose bounds richt blytheful I have been;
Of trew merchants, the rout of this regioun,
Most ready to ressave court, king, and queen.
Thy policie and justice may be seen,
Were devotioun, wysedom, and honestie,
With credence tint, they micht be found in thee."
LINDESAY OF THE MOUNT.
In total and happy ignorance of the events of the past night, Roland
awoke next morning. The dawn was struggling through an atmosphere of
mist and fog. Though roused by the tramp of feet and the lumbering
roll of artillery wheels, he would fain have slept a little longer,
for the palace clock was only striking four; but he sprang out of bed
with the resolution of a soldier, and found old Lintstock all
accoutred in his sleeved habergeon, with gourgerin, salade, sword,
dagger, and priming-horn, ready to dress and arm him, a process which
use and wont made wonderfully short, when we consider that Roland was
to be encased in a complete suit of plate armour. It was elaborately
gilded and engraved with legends of the Scottish saints, for such was
the superstition of the age, that such devices were deemed a
protection greater even than a coat of tempered mail. His helmet was
surmounted by the crest of the Viponts, a swan's head rising from a
ducal coronet, all of frosted silver, and above it floated his plume.
A belt of perfumed and embroidered leather sustained his sword and
dagger, and in his hand he carried a gilt baton as captain or master
of the ordnance. For breakfast, a slice of beef and a pot of wine
from the relics of the supper sufficed both him and Lintstock, who
said--
"Now that old bundle of roguery, who keeps the _Cross and Gillstoup_,
will be ready to curse himsel' wi' bell, book, and candle, when he
finds we're awa'; and he may whistle on the wind for payment."
"Till I return, say, I pray you."
"Of course; we'll pick up some braw things by way o' contribution.
The king's soldiers, gentlemen of the sword, maun live, and live wi'
honour."
"Is the earl here?"
"The earl!"
"Of course; he is going with us."
"To look for himself?"
"Surely--an excellent joke; I meant to take him, where in reality
none expect to find him; for I tell thee, Lintstock, this march
westward is all a trick of mine enemies at court, to banish me from
the king's presence and this good town of Edinburgh, when they know I
would give my ears to remain in it."
"Aha!" said Lintstock, giving under his helmet a shrewd Scots wink
with his solitary eye; "I can see into a millstone as far as my
neighbours; but, certes! I saw na this."
Roland yawned below his visor as he faced the cold breeze that swept
from the sea round Arthur's Seat, and gave a casual glance at the
hundred soldiers of the guard whom his friend Leslie was arraying
with their arquebuses, rests, and bandoliers; and another at his
sixteen gunners, who were all stout men in steel bonnets and jacks,
armed with swords and glove of plate, and who were tracing the
horses, and preparing two very handsome French culverins for the
march. These were two of those fifty-six beautiful pieces of brass
cannon, presented by Francis I. to his daughter Magdalene on her
becoming queen of Scotland, and which were long after known in the
arsenal by his cipher, which was engraved on them.
Like all men of the old school (for they have existed in every age,
and every age has had "a good old time" to regret), Lintstock was
scrutinizing these cannon narrowly with his one eye, and commenting
from time to time in sorrow and with anger on the various innovations
they exhibited, and the multitude of ornamental rings which encircled
the first and second reinforce, the chase and muzzle of each; and he
could not repress a groan at the trunnions with which they were
supported on the carriages, and the curved dolphins, which served for
mounting and dismounting them. Thrawn-mouthed Mow, which had knocked
out his left eye by her splinters, had been blessedly free (as he
remembered) of all such useful ornaments, and lay on her stock like
one log lying on another.
"By my holy dame! but this dings Dunse!" said the old fellow, shaking
his battered morion; "this world will no do now for an auld body like
me; and the suner I march to my lang hame the better. Gude-sake!
what have they made o' the aim frontlets?"
"Sic auld-fashioned things are no needed, ye grumbling carle," said a
young cannonier; "especially when the trunnions are so placed, and
the quoins are so low."
"Ye are but a bairn; trunnions! we levelled six-and-twenty pieces on
Flodden field, and devil a trunnion was among them a'. We were but
ten thousand that day, and the Lord Surrey had six-and-twenty
thousand under his banner: but say nae mair o' Flodden, for I feel as
if this corslet would burst when I think o't."
Roland paid no attention to the old soldier's complaints; he was
intently observing a man who was muffled in a sad-coloured mantle,
and leaned against the wall of James the Fifth's Tower, watching the
preparations for the departure of this little band. The hour was so
early that no other person was visible about the palace, save the
arquebusiers eo duty in the archways.
"Yonder is either Redhall, or his friend with the horns," thought
Roland. "Now, what errand can bring my lord advocate abroad at this
early hour? Ah, rascal! more than probable it is to thee I owe this
untimeous march, without bidding once adieu to her who loves me so
well."
Being somewhat curious to know wherefore this man, whom he knew to be
his enemy, was lounging there, Roland walked slowly and deliberately
towards him.
A fatality attended Redhall this morning.
Lady Jane and the earl, her brother, were both now safe in his
house--a strong edifice, which, if properly garrisoned, might have
stood a siege of all their faction; and there we shall, ere long, pay
them a visit. The earl he valued at a thousand merks; but his sister
he prized more than all the wealth of the Indies. Restless and
anxious, this arch-conspirator could not feel sure of his capture,
while so enterprising a pair of comrades as Vipont and Leslie were in
Edinburgh; and burning with impatience to see them fairly depart (on
an expedition from which he was resolved they should never return),
he had never undressed or been in bed, and had now come to observe if
they marched, before the tidings of the countess's arrest, and the
disappearance of her daughter, spread throughout the city.
In those stirring times, the most daring outrages were esteemed but
casual occurrences, and were thought little more of than a shower of
rain. A day never passed in which a dozen of castles were not
stormed, or petty conflicts fought, in various parts of the country;
and the good folks of Edinburgh were so much accustomed to the clash
of swords, and seeing men run each other through the body for no
better reason than because their worthy fathers had done the same
before them, that the din of steel on the Hiegait was deemed scarcely
worth raising one's window for. Ten thousand clansmen might fight a
battle now and then in the wilds of Ross or Argyle, and might even
burn Inverness by way of variety; and two months after, the news
thereof would reach Holyrood. The energy and ability of James V. and
the cardinal established the Courts of Session and Justiciary for the
repression of such outrages; but these tribunals did not prevent the
lord high treasurer from carrying off an heiress, a ward of the
crown, and marrying her, _bongré malgré_, to his son; while the next
generation saw without surprise the lord high chancellor murdering
the secretary of state under the very eyes of royalty; consequently,
the reader must not imagine that it was any qualm of fear or
conscience either that disturbed Redhall, and banished sleep from his
eyes. No; restless exultation alone kept him awake. The time to
visit his fair captive had not yet come; the first paroxysm of her
grief and anger had to pass; and then to cool his excitement and see
his rival fairly _en route_ for Douglasdale, he had walked forth with
the first peep of dawn.
Who that saw his grave and thoughtful face, and knew his stern and
lofty character, would have imagined that amid the sea of vast
political matters in which he and the cardinal were immersed, and
amid the busy whirl of their tumultuous public duties, gentle love
had found a passage to his iron heart? An infernal joy had now
kindled a new glow within it; and there was a wild gleam in his eyes,
and a feverish flush on his cheek, as Roland Vipont approached him.
Sir Adam Otterburn, of Redhall, says an old historian, was one of the
handsomest men of his time; but, notwithstanding that he knew this
well, the aspect of Vipont in his armour, blending the perfect ease
of the cavalier with the loftiness of a true soldier, kindled in his
bosom a glow of jealousy, not unmixed with envy, and anger that he
had been discovered in his lurking-place.
Turning haughtily, he was about to walk slowly away towards the great
doorway of the abbey church, when the voice of Roland arrested him
with more hauteur than policy.
"Ho! Sir Adam! you are abroad betimes this morning."
Redhall turned and bowed with a cold smile in his eyes, the ferocious
expression of which he vainly endeavoured to conceal.
"I crave pardon for interrupting your lordship's morning reveries or
orisons," said Roland, with somewhat of mischief in his eye; "but,
'odzounds! you must know that I permit no man to pass or avoid me
without a pretty weighty reason; and your lordship has just so served
me."
"'S life, sir! dost thou think that I will give any reasons to one
who queries me in such a tone?"
"I did not _thou_ thee," replied Roland, with rising wrath.
"Nor did I seek thee," rejoined Redhall; and then they paused a
moment, and gazed at each other with eyes of hatred: the soldier with
the expression of a lion, the lawyer with that of a serpent. In his
secret soul each nourished a storm of vengeance that longed to break
forth; but Redhall's was almost subdued by his giddy exultation, and
the reflection that Jane Seton was now, legally and illegally, so
doubly in his power. "Nor did I seek thee," he continued, "and had I
on mine armour, this insolence of first addressing me had assuredly
been chastised."
"Mansworn dog!" exclaimed Roland, trembling with passion; "thou who
cloakest thy cowardice under the wing of this new-fangled court," he
added, seizing Redhall by his short-peaked beard, and almost rending
it from his chin, "am I thine inferior, that _thou_ shouldst
acknowledge me first?"
Redhall's bonnet fell off; his dark eyes gleamed with rage; his
moustaches seemed to bristle, and his black hair waved about his face
like the mane of a Scottish bull. He could only utter a cry of fury,
as he unsheathed his sword, regardless of the place, and that he was
totally without armour; while Roland was in full mail for active
service.
"Come on," he cried, hoarsely, for rage had deprived him almost of
speech; "come on--thou--thou--on your guard! quick! quick! or I am
through you!" Roland hesitated.
"It were a coward's deed to slay thee," he replied, unsheathing his
long Italian sword in self-defence, and feeling its point with the
leather palm of his gauntlet; "though perhaps it is owing to thee,
and such as thee alone, that my sword now wins more blows than
bonnet-pieces in the king's service."
Redhall rushed to the assault, and both their swords became engaged
from point to hilt; but Roland acted strictly on the defensive. He
knew that to slay Redhall would be both dangerous and dishonourable;
while, if the reverse happened, Redhall would gain immortal honour at
court, and run no secondary risk. Vipont was a poor soldier of
fortune, who lived by knight-service and the sword; while Redhall was
a powerful baron, allied to many warlike nobles, and a high officer
of state.
Roland parried one _counter-en-carte_ so close to his throat that it
would certainly have slain him where the gorget met the cuirass; and
then, finding that he had to do with no ordinary swordsman, he
endeavoured to twist his own rapier in his adversary's, and lock-in;
but Redhall met his blade in time; it glided along his own like
lightning, and then they both retired a step.
In the palace yard the trumpet sounded for the march; as Roland
became impatient his anger rose, and he replied to four terrible
thrusts by one which pierced the shoulder-blade of his adversary, and
hurled him to the earth, breaking his sword like a crystal wand as he
fell.
In the sequel it will be seen how fortunate this thrust was for Jane
Seton.
"Now, hold thee, Vipont!" cried Leslie, through his barred helmet, as
he ran up at that moment, "by all the powers, thou hast slain the
king's advocate!"
"Be easy," said Roland, smiling, as he carefully sheathed his sword;
"dost think the devil dies so readily?"
"'S death! art thou not mad, to be fencing here like a French
sword-player when our trumpets are sounding?" said Leslie, as he
assisted Redhall to rise. "You are not wounded, my lord, I hope?"
"'Tis only a stab like a button-hole--pshaw! I will make a sure
account of it," said Redhall, wrapping his cloak about him, and
striking the hilt of his sword into the top of the empty sheath.
"A good day to thee, thou hypocrite and assassin in black taffeta,"
said Roland, leaping on his caparisoned horse, which Lintstock led up
at that moment.
"Farewell, thou ruffian and cut-throat in plate and cloth-of-gold,"
replied Redhall, in the same tone of fierce irony.
"I will remember thy politeness, Sir Adam."
"I will not forget thine, Sir Roland;--adieu."
And thus they separated, with bent brows, and eyes and hearts full of
fire and hatred.