SANCTUARY! SANCTUARY!
"A strange emotion stirs within him--more
Than mere compassion ever waked before;--
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she
Springs forward, as with life's lost energy."--_Lalla Rookh_.
The Earl of Ashkirk, on finding that he was actually possessor of a
small steel knife, could scarcely repress his joy till nightfall, or
refrain from indulging in a merry song; so his exuberance expended
itself in whistling, and drawing on the walls a variety of
caricatures of Redhall hanging upon a gallows, invariably appending
to his face an enormous nose; for that feature of the lord advocate,
though straight and singularly handsome, was, to say the least of it,
somewhat long and dignified.
As the sun set, he employed himself in tapping with the handle of the
knife the various stones of the partition wall, for the idea of
effecting a breach through the vast solidity of the external barrier
never occurred to him.
There was one part of the inner wall which was jointed with
remarkably large and square stones, where, by the frequent sound of
feet ascending and descending, he felt assured there was a stair
behind; and there he resolved to commence operations the moment he
was confident of being left undisturbed for that night.
He was singularly facetious with Tam Trotter when the latter, as
usual, left him for the last time about six o'clock, and secured all
the doors. By this time the earl had decided upon which stone to
operate, and selected one about four feet from the floor; he marked
it with a cross for good luck, and after viewing his treasured knife
for the thousandth time, repaired to his little window to watch the
lagging sunset.
Never, even when longing for a meeting with Sybil, did the moments
pass so slowly.
The evening was still and calm, and not a leaf was stirring in the
venerable chestnuts and sycamores at the foot of the little park
which extended towards the south, behind the house of Redhall. The
sunlight died away on Arthur's Seat, and the sky gradually deepened
to a darker and more cerulean blue, and one by one the stars came out
of its bosom; the hum of the city, and other sounds of life without,
ceased gradually, and nothing was heard but now and then the striking
of a friary clock, or the jangling bells in the convent of Placentia.
Night--the short but beautiful night of June--had come on; and one
might have imagined that another and a softer day was dawning in the
glorious light of the midsummer moon, as it rose in unclouded
magnificence above the craigs of Salisbury; then, with the first ray
that shone into his chamber, the earl, whose heartbeat rapidly and
almost fiercely with anxiety, and whose hands trembled, but with
eagerness, drew forth his treasured knife, and commenced the arduous
and exciting work of escape.
Fitted close as books on a shelf, squared and built with little
mortar, the task of loosening and completely disengaging one stone
occupied hours. The knife bent like a willow wand; and the earl's
heart almost sunk with fear lest it should break, and that if he
failed or was discovered at such a task, a stronger prison, perhaps a
hopeless dungeon, might be apportioned to him. Loosened on all
sides, the stone he had selected was a block a foot high by eighteen
inches broad; it vibrated to the touch, but the utmost exertion and
art he could put in practice failed to coax it one inch from its deep
bed in the wall; the knife, his nails, his fingers, were all resorted
to successively again and again, but in vain--it shook, it vibrated,
but obstinately remained in its place, till in a fit of fury, and
when about to abandon the task in despair, he uttered a malediction,
and gave the stone a violent push with both his hands! Then, lo! it
shot through the wall to the outside, and disengaging others in its
passage, fell upon what Lord Ashkirk discovered in a moment to be a
step of one of those narrow stairs we have described in the preceding
chapter.
The echoes of its fall died away in the stony windings of the stair;
and grasping his knife, the earl stood for a moment petrified, lest
all his labour and anxiety were lost, and the noise should rouse the
household; but fortunately (save their master) all the members of it
were buried in profound repose. The earl could hear his heart
beating, as the blood rushed back tumultuously upon it; but all
remained still as death, and he could hear the corbies croaking as
they swung in their nests among the foliage of the ancient trees
without.
There was not a moment to be lost.
With some difficulty he crawled through the aperture, and found
himself in a dark and narrow stair. His first thought was to replace
the heavy stone, which he did with ease, for this gallant young noble
was strong as a Hercules; thus, as the breach was immediately behind
the door, it was concealed from those who might enter the chamber;
and hence the dismay of Tam Trotter on the morrow, when he found it
void, without knowing or perceiving how.
The earl was naturally about to descend, when the cry of a female
arrested him; and though he knew not with certainty that his sister
Jane was in the power of Sir Adam Otterburn, the voice made him
experience something like an electric shock; and he sprang up the
stair, taking three steps at a time.
The first apartment he entered was empty; a light burned on the
table, which bore a pyramid of letters and papers; the walls were
shelved, and covered with vellum-bound volumes--it was the study or
library of the lord advocate. A Flemish clock, in workmanship and
aspect little superior to a common roasting-jack of modern times,
hung above the mantel-piece, and pointed to the hour of twelve.
Above him the earl heard voices, whose purport he could not discover,
but whose tones seemed familiar to his ear.
Appropriating to himself a handsome poniard that lay on the table,
just where Redhall had placed it about an hour before, he sprang to
the next story, at the door of which a candle was burning on the
floor: it streamed in a current of air, which announced to the
observant earl that there must be an external door below.
The voices were those of his sister Jane and their enemy, Redhall.
A storm of passion filled his heart; and at the very moment she was
exclaiming--"Archibald! oh, Archibald, my brother!" he tore aside the
arras, and striking Redhall to the floor with his own poniard, seized
his sister by the hand, and led, or rather dragged her forth, and
down the steep stair, at the bottom of which they found themselves in
the vaulted stone lobby of the mansion. Everything was yet silent.
The flaring light of a smoky oil lamp which stood on a grotesque
stone bracket projecting from the wall, revealed its furniture, which
consisted of little more than a few sturdy oak chairs, and a stout
binn, whereon stood an ale barrel, with a quaigh hanging on its
spigot, wherewith the servants of visitors, or whoever chose, might
quench their thirst; for such was the hospitable fashion of the olden
time. At the further end of the lobby* was an arch closed by a
strong door, which was secured by one ponderous wooden bar, that
crossed it transversely, and had a solid rest in the walls at each
side.
* Scottish for an entrance-hall; derived, I believe, from the German
_laube_: a gallery, or walking-place.
To shoot back this bar of oak, to open the heavy door, and rush into
the Canongate, were but the work of a moment--and then Lord Ashkirk
and his sister were free.
"Oh, Archibald! Archibald!" cried Jane, as she threw herself into
the arms of her brother in a transport of grief and excitement--"am I
quite saved--and by you?"
"I have not a moment to lose, dear Jeanie, for the bloodhounds of
Redhall will be upon my track. Yonder is our house. I dare not
enter it; but once there, thou at least art safe."
"With my mother--oh, yes; when with my mother I will fear nothing.
Our dear mother! but thou----?"
"Must hasten hence. Edinburgh will be too hot to hold me after this
affair; and already I have been too rash in residing here. Hah!" he
exclaimed, half savagely, but with a shudder, as he held up his hand,
"this is the blood of Redhall! There will be a vacant gown in the
High Court to-morrow--one villain less in that tribunal of cowards!
Here, then, thou art safe. I will cross into Fife, even should I
swim the Firth, and will retire towards the Highlands, as the king
will be sure to look for me on the Borders. Tell Vipont of this, and
intrust yourself to him, for he alone can protect thee now. I can no
more."
"But Roland is in Douglasdale, and our mother a prisoner in the
castle of Inchkeith!"
The earl gnashed his teeth with passion.
"How many wheels hath this dark conspiracy!" said he. "Ha! 'tis well
I struck deep to-night."
"See, Archibald, our house is dark and deserted; the gates are
locked. Oh! such silence and desolation!"
"What shall we do now? If I stay with thee I shall be taken, and if
taken, shall indubitably be hanged, _red hand_. See, this horrible
poniard is actually glued to my fingers!"
"Away thou to the hills, and leave me. Oh, Archibald! seek shelter
anywhere. Thou art the last hope of us all, Archibald! with thee our
father's name, and fame, and race would perish."
"True; and, what is worth them all, our hopes of vengeance on the
Hamiltons. I must live for that! This night hath commenced it; and
my hand has struck one from the list of Angus's foes and Arran's
friends. Jane, we are now past the Girth Cross; thou art safe now,
for not even Redhall would dare to violate the holy sanctuary. Its
girdle will protect thee like a magic zone. Remain in the abbey
church till daybreak, and then Sir John Forrester, who is Roland's
friend--a good man and a gallant knight, will see thee in safety to
our mother's side. One kiss, dear Jeanie, and then a long farewell
till better times."
Jane thought of the terrible warrant which Redhall had held before
her eyes; but fearing to delay her brother, or to alarm him more, she
tendered her soft cheek, against which he pressed his long rough
beard, and there they parted, in the middle of that dark and deserted
street; for the light of a pale and waning moon threw the sombre
shadow of the ancient Mint far beyond the Girth Cross, which, on its
shaft of stone, stood in the centre of the street. Reflected from
the large masses of white clouds that were scudding over the city,
the cold moonlight shone on the vanes of the palace gate, and the
square towers of the abbey church, for it then had three--a great
rood tower, and one on each side of the entrance.
Intimate with all the localities of the town, the earl avoided the
Water-gate, where he knew a sentinel was posted; and passed down a
narrow close overhung by many a "sclaited lodging" and antique
"timber-land;" he reached the wall at the bottom unseen, scaled it
with agility, and found himself close to the hospital of St. Thomas,
which was then in the course of erection, by George Crichton, Bishop
of Dunkeld, and dedicated to the Virgin and all the saints, for the
health of his own soul and the souls of the kings of Scotland, for so
runs the charter of its foundation. From thence he bent his steps
towards Leith, hoping with the dawn to cross the Forth by the first
ferry-boat that departed for Kinghorn.
Though weak, feeble, and sinking with terror, Jane Seton, instead of
hurrying at once to Holyrood, the dimly-lighted shrines of which were
visible through its western windows and doorway (for then church
doors stood permanently open), lingered affectionately so long as her
brother was in sight, nor turned away until he had disappeared.
At the porch, which served both as an entrance to the ancient abbey
and to the new palace, was a doorway, where hung a certain bell,
which was only rung by those claiming the ancient and still sacred
privilege of sanctuary. Opposite was an edifice occupied as a
guard-house by the king's arquebusiers.
"Mother of Mercy, be praised!" she exclaimed, with a heart full of
thankfulness, as she raised her hand trembling with eagerness to the
bell-rope, when, lo! swift as light, a man sprang into the archway,
cut the cord, and seized her by the arm. Jane uttered a faint cry,
and sank against the wall, on seeing the hateful visage of Dobbie,
the doomster, and hearing his false and hollow laugh in her ear.
There was a savage leer in his eyes, and he lolled out a long red
tongue through his short wiry beard, as he arrested her.
On one side lay the porter-lodge of the abbey, where she would have
received a sanctuary; on the other lay the guardhouse of the
soldiers; and she knew that if discovered by them, after what Redhall
told her, she would indeed be lost. On one hand lay life--on the
other death!
"Sanctuary!" she cried with a despairing voice, as she clung to the
handle of the door; "sanctuary, father abbot--good master porter! In
the name of the blessed Trinity, sanctuary! For the love of God and
St. Mary, sanctuary! sanctuary! Oh, man, man!" she continued,
wildly, as the wretch threw his arms around her, and forcibly dragged
her away, "what wrong have I ever done thee? Oh, for my brother's
dagger now!--pity, pity! I am very weak and ill. Sweet Mother of
Compassion have mercy upon me, for others have none!"
Her voice failed and sense began to leave her.
"How now--what the devil!" cried a rough voice, "whose brittle ware
may this lass be?"
"By St. Girzy, a fair strapping dame!" cried another.
"Let go the lass, rascal, or I will brain thee with the boll of my
arquebuse!" exclaimed a third, as several soldiers of the guard came
hurriedly out of the porch with their swords drawn and matches
lighted.
Jane's eyes were closed, but she felt several hands laid roughly upon
her, as she was dragged into the court of guard.
"Ho! ho!--blood!" said one; "hath this squeeling mudlark committed a
murder? see, there are red spots on her crammasie kirtle."
"Yea, and worse," said Dobbie; "she is a sorceress of the house of
Seton; and here is my lord the cardinal's warrant for her committal
to ward, signed and sealed wi' his braid hat, tassels and a'."
"A sorceress!" muttered the soldiers; and Jane felt their hands
withdrawn as they shrunk back; and at that moment a deadly faintness
came over her.....
Meanwhile, passing under the dark brow of the Doocraig, a rock of the
Calton, and past the old street and chapel of St. Ninian, which lay
on the opposite eminence, the earl hurried down the long pathway then
known as the Loan, which led to Leith. St. Anthony's Gate, which
closed the seaport towards Edinburgh, was shut, but with the first
peep of dawn it was opened by the warders; and as the earl had
bestowed the interval in cleansing himself from several spots of
blood, and adjusting his toilet, he passed without question the
keepers of the barrier, and several of the old hospitallers of St.
Anthony, who, even at that early hour, were perambulating the
Kirkgate in their long black cassocks, which had a large T and a bell
shaped in blue cloth on the breasts thereof.
At the pier--an ancient erection of wood which was burned by the
English during Hertford's wanton invasion seven years after--the earl
found the Kinghorn sloop just about to sail, and sprang on board,
descending from the pier to the deck by one of those old-fashioned
_treenebrigges_, which, by an act of the legislature in 1425, all
ferriers were bound to have prepared for the safe shipment of horse
and man. Unchanged since the days of James I., the fare was then
only twopence Scots for a man or woman, and sixpence for a horse,
under pain of imprisonment in the Tolbooth, and the forfeiture of
forty shillings to the crown in case of extortion; thus the earl,
though his funds were low indeed, easily passed on board, among the
Fifeshire cottars and Burrowtown merchants of small wares, who
crowded the low waist of the little vessel, which in a short time was
running past the Mussel Cape and the Beacon Rock (whereon the
martello tower now stands), and bearing away for the quaint and
venerable town of Kinghorn, which lies on the opposite shore.