SYBIL.
"Come, my Antonia, come,
I'll lead thee to the blissful land of love,--
I'll lead thee to the pinnacle of joys,
Where round thy path the fairest flowers of earth
Shall bloom in radiant beauty to reward
Thy noble deed--come, dearest."--THEODORE KÖRNER.
A guttural laugh announced to the earl that Sabrino had also ascended
the ladder, and was rejoicing at the sight of his mistress.
"Hold fast! by my faith, thou hast the hands and feet of a marmoset.
Hush! I would hear them talk a little," said the noble, adjusting
himself upon his giddy perch. "By Jove! we are like a couple of
crows up here--thou like the black, and I like a white one."
"Ees," grinned Sabrino, whose whole vocabulary was nearly comprised
in that sound.
The moment their orisons were over, Sybil went to the opposite
window, and, withdrawing the curtains, gazed steadfastly towards the
eastern end of the little valley.
"Dost thou see it again, bairn--that ill-omened light?" asked the
countess, approaching.
"Yes; oh, yes!" replied Sybil, with a voice of surprise and fear;
"brighter to-night than ever before."
"Then it must be either a corpse-licht, that burneth on the grass, to
mark where a slain man sleeps, or a fairy-candle, at the rock where
the whin-bushes grow. Corpse-lichts burn blue, and fairy-candles are
siller white."
"But this burns redly, and it brightens fast!"
"By the Lord!" said the earl, with alarm, "in our hurry to-night thou
hast forgotten to extinguish our fire, master Sabrino; and we have
widened the aperture at the chasm. Mass! if the knaves of watchmen
see it, we shall be discovered and taken!"
Sabrino turned skyblue in the dark at this terrible suggestion.
"There is a knowe among the hazelwoods near our castle of Ashkirk,
where the gude neibours dwell; and ever and aye on St. John's night,
a light of siller white shines among the grass that grows beneath the
thick dark trees. Now it chanced that, on the eve of that blessed
festival, in 1510 (oh, waly! only three years before dreich
Flodden-field, and good King James's death), Hughie o' the Haugh, a
poor cottar-body, who dwelt at the glenfoot, was coming home from the
next burrow-toun with a bag of barley on his horse's back, and
trudging, staff in hand, behind, lamenting sorely at the tidings he
had that day heard at the market-cross; for brother Macgridius, of
the blessed Order of Redemption, had seen his son, a puir sailor lad,
taken prisoner by the cruel pagans at Barbary, who demanded a hundred
pieces of gold for his ransom. Hughie could as easily have raised
the Bass Rock as a hundred pieces of gold; and he went homewards,
with his bonnet owre his eyen, groaning in great anguish of mind.
Oblivious of all but the loss of his only son, poor old Hughie
followed his horse, which knew right well the drove-road that led to
his thatched stable, at the back of the auld farm toun; when
suddenly, at the fairy knowe, the animal pricked up its ears,
trembled, and stopped, as a wee diminutive mannie, not two feet high,
and wearing an enormous broad blue bonnet, and a long beard that
reached to his middle, rose off the stone dyke, and bade Hughie hail.
"'Gude e'en, Carle Hughie,' said he; 'how went the markets?' he
added, with an eldritch laugh.
"'Sorrowfully for me,' replied the other, wiping his eyes with the
neuk of his plaid.
"'Wherefore, Hughie, wherefore, ye silly auld carle?' quoth the
little man.
"'Because I come back with a light purse and a sorrowfu' and heavy
heart,' replied the poor cottar, peering under his bonnet, and
terrified at the wee figure; for he knew it was one of those unco
creatures whom it was dangerous to seek, and still more dangerous to
avoid or to offend.
"'I am sorely in want of barley, carle,' said the mannikin, stroking
his long white beard; 'ye must sell me that load, and at mine ain
price, too.'
"'I lack siller, gude sir, as sorely as ye can lack the barley,'
urged the poor crofter, who feared that the payment might be
fairy-pennies or pebble-stones.
"'I never was hard on a puir man yet,' replied the little mannie,
testily; 'and I have dealt wi' your race, Hughie, for many a
generation. When grain is plenty I buy it; for I tell ye, carle,
that a time of sad and sair scarcity for puir Scotland is fast
coming. So, here! I ken what ye are graning for, ye greedy body,'
quoth the creature, plunging each of his hands into the enormous
pockets of his doublet, 'here are a hundred pieces of good red gold;
ransom your son, and give me a help wi' the barley pock; my back hath
borne a load like that, and mair.'
"With fear and joy mingled, Hughie received the gold, and transferred
the bag of barley from the back of his horse to that of the little
man, of whom it left no part visible, save his bandy legs, his
walking staff, and the end of his long white beard.
"'Gude e'en to you, Carle Hughie; a safe voyage hame to you, son,'
said the awesome buyer, and manfully striking his staff into the
ground, he trudged up the steep knowe, and disappeared below the dark
trees.
"Hughie hastened back to brother Macgridius, and, with joy, paid him
the hundred pieces of gold for his son's redemption from slavery; and
not without many a fear that before his eyes the coins would turn
into birch leaves or cockleshells; but that was impossible, for they
were ilka ane our gude Scottish gold, but six hundred years old, for
they bore the name of king Constantine IV., who was slain at the
battle of Cramond."
"And Hughie's son was released?" said Sybil.
"Yea, child, and is now master gunner of Sir Robert Barton's ship at
Leith."
With his legs dangling over the surf, and being in imminent danger of
drowning, it may easily be supposed that the earl listened to this
fairy legend with the utmost impatience; but while his mother spoke,
and Sybil listened with the utmost good faith and reliance (for in
those days, as at this hour, in some parts of Scotland, one might as
well have doubted their own existence as that of fairies and other
spirits of good or evil), the earl had gently raised the heavy and
massive sash of the window, slid into the room, and concealed himself
behind the thick damask curtains, his heart beating the while with
the mingled desire of rushing forward to embrace his mother and
Sybil, and a fear that their alarm might be communicated to the
inhabitants of the tower, many of whom had not yet retired to rest.
"Look, look, Sybil!" exclaimed the countess, "the whins are on fire.
Surely that is no fairy light!"
As she spoke, a watchman on the tower-head sounded his horn.
"Hark! the castle is alarmed!" said Sybil.
The earl saw that not a moment was to be lost now. Their fire in the
cavern had by some means communicated itself to the whin-bushes at
the entrance; an alarm had thus been given, and immediate action
became necessary.
"Sybil," said he, "Sybil----"
"Just Heaven! my son's voice!" exclaimed the countess, becoming
deadly pale, and feeling in her bosom for her case of reliques. "It
is a spirit--a warning! It is a spirit!"
"Ten devils, lady mother! do not cry out!" implored the earl,
gradually emerging from his hiding-place; "I am not yet a spirit,
thank Heaven, and have no wish to be one."
"Then, oh, Archibald, how came you here?" she exclaimed, throwing her
arms around him.
"By the window," he replied, embracing Sybil in return; "by the
window, as you may see."
"And Sabrino, my poor Sabrino!"
The black sank upon his knees to kiss her hands, and then danced
about the room, performing the most extravagant capers to the sound
of his long clanking earrings.
"By my soul, mother, the times are sorely changed with the Setons,
when my father's son comes to visit thee and his betrothed wife like
a rascally stoutriever by the window instead of the door--in the
night instead of the day.
"The window!" they repeated, and became speechless for a moment, as
they thought of the precipice, and the water at its foot.
"Faith, very few, I believe, would have dared what Sabrino and I have
dared and done--but it was for thee, mother, and thee, my life, my
love, my dear Sybil!" said Ashkirk, kissing her olive cheek.
"My brave Archibald, did the power of sorcery or of Providence bring
thee to this prison island?"
"Neither, lady mother, but a smart boat, which, in another hour,
shall convey you hence, with a fair breeze and a flowing sail."
"But how?"
"I know not yet, for we have to leave this tower, and baffle the old
bear, its governor, the Laird of Barncleugh."
"My son, here have we dwelt for more than two weary weeks, and never
a letter nor message hath come from thee or Roland Vipont."
"Vipont is on the king's service in Douglasdale, and for fourteen
days I have been a prisoner in the house of Redhall; for the other
two I have been vagabondizing."
"And Jane," said Sybil, "your sister Jane?"
"Is safe, I trust; but whether with Marion Logan, at Restalrig, or
with my old friend Josina, the fair prioress of St. Catherine, I
cannot for the life of me say. Now, pretty rogue, at what art thou
laughing?"
"At thy figure, lord earl; 'tis like the satyrs on some old tapestry;
thou art quite a wild man."
"True, cousin; I am scarcely fitted for appearance at Falkland or
Holyrood, or in the Hall of the Three Estates, unless it were, as it
may too soon be, at the bar. But ah, Sybil, my dear Sybil, what
pleasure the sound of your voice gives me! 'tis like the dream of----
Hark! what an uproar! the burning whins have alarmed old Barncleugh
and all his fellows. Come now, Sabrino, my man of the earrings, a
truce to these mad capers--dost thou hear me?"
Sabrino stopped a fandango which he was performing on his head and
hands, and pricked up his enormous ears.
"Quick with our rope ladder, for thou, my mother, and Sybil too, must
descend from this window on the dark side of the tower; it is not
more than fifteen feet from the ground, I think."
"But the barbican gate?" said Sybil.
"I will unlock it with the point of my sword," replied the fiery
earl, as a savage gleam shot from his eyes.
"Nay, nay," said the countess, crossing her hands, and standing very
erect, "I cannot think of flying thus; the king has placed me here,
and the king must release me."
"What frenzy is this? Besotted by his French marriage, the king hath
become a fool. Quick, Lady Ashkirk, we have not a moment to lose.
Hark! the whole tower is silent now, for its inmates are away down in
the valley, seeking the source of that sudden fire. Oh, if the
knaves should discover my boat! Quick!--are you a coward, my
mother--the widow of my father?"
"A coward never came of the line of Kilspindie, and a coward had
never slept in your father's bosom, Lord Archibald," replied the tall
matron, proudly, and with asperity, as her eyes filled with tears.
"Thou knowest not, my son, how life sometimes rises in value with the
unfortunate; but it is neither the love of life nor the fear of death
that restrain me now, but a shame to fly, like a thief in the night,
from the wardship of either king or clown."
"Now, by the faith of Seton! these are pleasant remarks to me, who
have been skulking like a thief and a vagabond too, for the last few
years--a creditable occupation for an earl! If thou stayest, here
will I stay too," said Ashkirk, and seating himself, he folded his
arms; "if Barncleugh find me, thou knowest my doom, for I shall die
the death of an outlaw and traitor. By my soul! 'tis outrageous,
this!"
"Thou art right," replied the old lady, trembling with sudden alarm;
"I thought not of that. Quick, then! Old as I am, thou shalt see
that now, as in the days of James IV., of gude memorie, I am a true
daughter of old Archibald Greysteel."
"We have lost ten good minutes already," replied the earl, lowering
his rope ladder from the small window, which, luckily, was ungrated,
being within the barbican. Fortunately a gusty wind had risen, and
the moon, which was partially obscured by passing clouds, having
verged far to the south-east, threw the sombre shadow of the tower
over that part of the court into which the fugitives were about to
descend. The little castle was almost deserted, the iron gate of the
barbican stood wide open, and the barking of dogs and hallooing of
men ascended from below, where Barncleugh, with ten or fifteen of his
followers, searched the valley for the source of that nocturnal fire
which, on this occasion, had become so palpable, and caused such
alarm.
"I will descend first, and hold steady the foot of the ladder; and do
thou, Sabrino, my gallant imp, hold fast its top," said the earl, as,
with his drawn sword in his teeth, he slid in a moment to the ground;
"come, dearest Sybil, do thou set my mother an example."
With Sabrino's assistance, the young lady got out upon the ladder,
which she clutched with a death-grasp, while the wind expanded her
dress, and blew all her long black hair about her face.
"Oh, cousin Ashkirk!" she exclaimed, in great terror.
"Oh, cousin Sybil!" replied the earl, jestingly, in the same tone, to
reassure her; "I will swear that thou hast the handsomest ankles and
the handsomest leg in all the Lothians."
This intimation made her come down very quickly, and the earl
received her in his arms with joy.
"Now, my lady mother, quick, bestir thee," said he, in a low voice.
But terror seized him when a cry from his mother replied, and the
explosion of a petronel followed; then Sabrino sprang from the
chamber, and descended the ladder with the rapidity of light, and
with his poniard in his hand.
There was blood on its blade!
A servant of Barncleugh had rushed in, and, surprising them, had
fired his petronel at the negro, who, springing at him like a
tiger-cat, inflicted a deadly wound with his poniard.
"Away, Sybil! come away! We have not a moment now to lose!" said the
earl.
"But your mother, your poor mother!" she urged.
"Her own folly has done it all; those ten minutes had freed her; but
she must be left for the present;" and, almost dragging Sybil, he led
her out of the barbican and down the valley, keeping carefully on its
shadowy side, which, fortunately, lay towards the beach.