THE TWENTY-FOURTH OF NOVEMBER.
Playing at the tables, he
There was murder'd. At his shrine
Many a noble lady wept;
Many a knight of valiant line:
One mourn'd more than all the rest,
Daughter of the Genovine.
POETRY OF SPAIN.
In the horror and bewilderment which were naturally excited by this
terrible and unexpected catastrophe--this double execution which had
taken place under his own eyes, and in which he felt himself thereby
almost implicated, the unfortunate Captain of the King's Guard knew not
what to do.
How would the powerful and hostile Douglases, and how might Murielle
view him _now_?
He shrunk from the contemplation, and felt such an abhorrence of the
regent and chancellor, that, although his bread and subsistence were
derived from his post at court as Captain of the King's Guard, he
was tempted to cast the office from him and leave the country. But
to pass into exile was to lose all hope of Murielle, to relinquish
her for ever; and he lived in an age when love was perhaps a more
_concentrated_ passion than it may be even in one of greater
civilization.
To lure her with him into France,--in those old times the Scotsman's
_other_ home,--would be fraught with danger; for the Douglases would
have interest enough with Charles VII. to procure their separation, and
his commitment for life to some obscure bastille, where he would never
be heard of again,--if their emissaries did not cut him off in the
light of open day.
Then, on the other hand, his patron and friend, the late King James I.,
had made him promise to be a faithful subject and mentor to his son and
heir; and, with one hand on that dead monarch's body as he lay murdered
in the Black Friary at Perth, he had recorded the promise again in
presence of his mourning widow.
That a terrible vengeance would be planned by the Douglases and their
adherents for that _black dinner_,--as it was named,--he felt assured;
for all who hated the regent or dreaded the chancellor had for years
found security in the numerous strongholds of the slaughtered earl,
and had there bid defiance alike to king, law, and parliament. All
the lawless moss-troopers; all broken, idle, and mischievous persons,
professed themselves vassals of this powerful house, which was rapidly
aiming at the erection of a separate and independent principality in
the southern and most fertile district of Scotland.
By the stern chancellor's wisdom, and merciless decree, the headsman's
axe had struck a fatal blow at this most daring and ambitious scheme:
but what might the sequel be to public as well as private interests?
And Murielle!
She knew all the perils of the age in which she lived; the daily--yea,
hourly dangers to which her lover as Captain of the King's Guard was
exposed; she knew, too, how many interests were hostile to their
union, and that their love seemed the hopeless passion of a romance or
a harper's song; yet she had still continued to love, and trust, and
hope, though vaguely, for some turn of the wheel of Fortune, as loving
women always do in the hours of trouble and adversity; but of what
avail would all this trust and hope be _now_?
All these thoughts rushed like a flood through the mind of Gray, as he
stood next morning beside the newly-heaped mound where the dead were
buried.
How was he to excuse to Murielle that he was present at the butchery of
her nearest kinsmen? and, _why_ that he still adhered to those who so
basely slew them under truce and tryst?
A shadow fell across the large earthen mound. He looked up, and his
eyes met those of the inflexible chancellor.
"Good morrow, Sir Patrick!" said the latter, with a keen glance. "Art
moralizing on the mutability of human things, or the vanity of human
greatness?"
"Nay; my mind was full of neither."
"What then?"
"I was but thinking that it was a foul deed, my lord; this slaughter of
two helpless youths, amid the festivity of a royal banquet."
"Foul!" reiterated the Chancellor, with a louring brow and flashing
eyes.
"As foul as if the heart of Judas planned it; a deed at which all
Scotland, if not all Europe, will cry aloud," replied Gray, stoutly.
"Then let them cry, if it pleases them to do so. By our Lady! I believe
the howl you fear will not go far beyond Galloway and the Douglas
lands. Of yesterday's act, I take upon myself the entire odium and
responsibility, if such there be. Those who know me, and chiefly He who
reads the secrets of every soul, know the great end I had in view when,
in the persons of these misguided boys, I laid the heads of a viperous
brood in the dust. Sir Patrick Gray!" added the chancellor, turning and
stamping on the grave with his spurred heel, "better it is to have the
heart of Douglas lying cold below us, than exulting that his banner
could cast its shadow on the throne, and that he could rend Scotland in
twain, to become the easier prey of its ancient, bitter, and grasping
enemies. Nay, man, never scowl at me, but ponder well upon my words;
and remember the promise you made to the king when living, and to the
same king when dead, on that terrible night in the Black Friary, at
Perth."
And with a significant glance, this stern statesman turned and left
him, as if disdaining further defence of himself.
Gray supposed that the vast train of Douglas would assemble and depart
at once, on learning the tidings of the execution: thus, if he would
see Murielle, he must visit her without delay. But such a visit was
fraught with danger, so great was the excitement which reigned in the
city, where an assault of the castle was considered imminent.
Carefully divesting himself of everything by which he might be
recognized, he put on a shirt of fine mail, which fitted him like a
kid-glove. Over this he buttoned a pourpoint of plain black cloth; a
steel gorget protected his neck; and a salade effectually did the same
office for his head, while at the same time it completely concealed his
face; and, armed with his sword and dagger, he sallied forth into the
streets, where the shops and booths were closed, and at the Cross, the
Butter Tron, the doors of St. Giles's Church, and other places, sullen
and excited groups of citizens were mingled with the wild and unruly
billmen, pikemen, and archers, who had come from the banks of the Nith
and the Annan; or with armed knights, who rode hurriedly to and fro,
briefly questioning each other, or gathering for angry conference. Many
yet averred that the story of the execution was false, and that the
earl and his brother with Sir Malcolm Fleming were merely imprisoned
in the vaults of that grim fortress towards which many an angry eye
was turned, and towards which many a gauntleted hand was clenched and
shaken.
But James Achanna spread the truth industriously; and then a dreadful
shout, or many shouts commingling into one, rang along the streets from
mouth to mouth.
"Horse and spear! A Douglas! a Douglas! Fye, fye! Vengeance on the king
and the pack of sworn traitors who surround him! Down with his lurdane
burgesses and silken lords! Death to the regent and chancellor!"
Such were the cries heard on every hand.
"Oh, had the legate of Rome but listened to me!" exclaimed the abbot of
Tongland; "oh, had his holiness but favoured me, than had Sathanas been
forgiven; evil had departed from us, and we had not seen this day of
woe!"
On one hand the great common-bell of the city was rung by order of
Sir Thomas Cranstoun, the provost, to summon the people to arms, for
their own protection and that of the king; on the other, the bells of
the churches were tolling, to call them to prayer; so that as many as
possible, especially "wives and bairns," might be kept from danger.
The blare of trumpets, the twanging of horns were heard in wynd and
alley, with the clatter of iron hoofs and clinking of steel, as Ormond,
Abercorn, Pompherston, Glendoning, and other feudatories mustered
their "followings;" and amid all this hubbub and dismay, this rushing
to and fro of armed, pale-faced, and excited men in search of sure
intelligence, our anxious lover passed through the city, and reached,
unquestioned and unannounced, the outer gate of the abbot's mansion.
Just as he was about to enter, a man passed out of the archway.
This person was fully armed in a chain shirt, with a steel helmet, from
the rim of which a camaile, or tippet of fine steel rings, closely
interwoven, fell upon the shoulders to protect the neck. His gauntlets
were of brass; he carried a dagger at his girdle, and a ghisarma in his
hands. Through the open helmet, Sir Patrick Gray at once recognized
the malevolent eyes of James Achanna, the follower of the Douglases,
and the paid spy of Crichton, a thorough Scottish utilitarian of the
fifteenth century.
"Grant me mercy, Sir Patrick," said he, with well-feigned concern,
"what make you here, at such a time as this? Do you bear a charmed
life?"
"You _know_ me, then?" exclaimed the soldier, somewhat disconcerted.
"When you wish to be unknown, you should leave this golden chain at
home," said Achanna, lifting the links of one worn by Gray above his
gorget.
"How, sir,--what do you infer?" asked the latter, biting his lips
with undisguised annoyance, for the chain in question was a gift from
Murielle.
"I have seen it on a fairer neck, but at such a time are you safe
beyond the castle gate?"
"Oh, heed me not, my good man," replied the soldier, contemptuously;
"my hands could always keep my head--be sure that yours can do the same
for you."
"That we shall prove," muttered the other with his malignant smile, as
he passed out, and they separated.
In the adjacent wynd, or alley, he met James of Avondale and Abercorn,
riding down hastily with a troop of armed followers, all excited almost
to madness by the conflicting statements circulated in the city, while
at the gate of the fortress, where Abercorn had gone, being anxious to
learn the _truth_, the sole reply was the pointed crossbow or hand-gun,
levelled at all who approached.
The subtle earl of Abercorn and Avondale knew well by the advices of
his creature, Achanna, that both his nephews were effectually and
for ever removed from his path, and that as next of kin, the vast
possessions of the house of Douglas--their titles, lands, manors,
and fortresses were his--_his beyond recall_! But as yet he found it
prudent to affect to doubt the terrible story; and thus he had been
swaggering over all the city in his armour, threatening with vengeance,
fire and sword, the king, the regent, the chancellor, and all their
adherents.
"Achanna," he exclaimed, curbing his horse, "the common rumour says my
kinsmen _were slain_ yesterday,--foully murdered by the chancellor and
his minions under form of law."
"Alake, my lord," whined Achanna (who had detailed to him all the
transaction most circumstantially, on the preceding evening), "I fear
the rumour is but too true; woe worth the day! woe worth the day!"
On this the armed horsemen clenched their mailed hands, or shook their
spears aloft, and muttered deep oaths in the hollow of their helmets.
"By St. Bryde of Douglas, I would give a year's rental of Touraine for
the head of Livingstone, of Crichton, or even of the wretch who acted
as their doomster!" exclaimed Abercorn, still acting as if inspired by
grief and indignation.
"A year's rent of Touraine is a pretty sum," said Achanna, musingly.
"Ay, ten thousand crowns," added the earl, grimly.
"How freely he spends his new-won property," thought Achanna, adding
aloud, "the headsman was masked, 'tis said."
"By whom?"
"The common rumour."
"Masked was he?" said the laird of Pompherston; "a wise precaution, as
there is not a Douglas in the land but will be ready to whet a dagger
on his breast bone!"
"Well, sirs, this perilous carle is even now within arm's length of us."
"Hah! _here_, say you, Achanna?" said Abercorn.
"Even so,--Sir Patrick Gray."
"The Captain of the Guard! Was it he?"
"None else," was the villainous response.
"And he--he," cried twenty voices.
"Is now in the Abbot's House, at the feet of Lady Murielle, or,
perhaps, at the feet of the countess; I know not which he loves, for
there be some in Galloway who aver he affects them both."
"In the house here--art thou sure, Achanna?" hissed the earl, through
his teeth, while a livid gleam lit his dark and sinister eyes, for he
bitterly hated Gray, and had _other_ views for Murielle than she had
yet foreseen. Moreover, a ready victim was required to appease the fury
which inspired the turbulent followers of his slaughtered nephews, and
none could be so fit for his purpose as the Captain of the Guard. "Art
thou sure," he added, "that Gray is here?"
"Sure, as that the breath of Heaven is in my nostrils!"
"By the God of my kin, our task of vengeance is beginning!" cried
Earl James, rising in his stirrups, and brandishing his sword; "a
rope, a rope! A Douglas! a Douglas! Ho, Pompherston, Glendoning,
Cairnglas,--let us hang this king's minion at the Market Cross! Gather
a band--beset the house, and watch every avenue. Achanna, is there a
secret stair?"
"Yes."
"Then beset it too," exclaimed the earl.
"Be that my task," replied Achanna, who with six armed men repaired
to an angle of the abbot's garden, where, among a mass of ivy which
shrouded the wall, he knew there was concealed a little arched postern,
which formed the external avenue of one of those secret escapes with
which all houses were furnished in those times of war and tumult.
Abercorn remained in his high-peaked, crimson velvet saddle, while
posting his followers round the mansion; but Pompherston, Glendoning,
and other armed gentlemen, with a tumultuous party of retainers,
Lanarkshire pikemen, crossbowmen, and wild, half-naked Galwegians,
who brandished axes, swords, and daggers, rushed up the stone stairs,
and spread through the wainscoted apartments, in eager search of the
object of their vengeance, for they were in such a mood for blood and
slaughter, they would have slain the household cat had it, unluckily,
fallen in their way.
But we must return to our luckless lover, who, suspecting nothing of
all this, had long since passed into the house, where no one accosted
or introduced him, so great was the confusion which already reigned
there.