Three months after, as the February snow lay deep on roof and road,
Ludar and I walked in a strange procession through the streets of
Dublin. In front went three trumpeters on horseback, with the pennon of
England drooping from their trumpets. Behind them rode a picked troop
of English horse, gaily caparisoned and very brave with ribbons and
trappings. Then, alone, went Sir John Perrott, the Lord Deputy, a
smirking man who seemed to doubt the whole business. He was mounted
too, and at his tail rode three officers of his house, and after them
more trumpeters and troopers. Then came the strange part of the
procession, for at the heels of these English cavaliers stalked fifty
huge redshanks with the McDonnell's heather in their bonnets, and their
hands on their sword-hilts.
Yet still stranger was what came next. For, unarmed, with long, slow
strides, walked a noble figure of commanding stature, whose eyes flashed
now and again on the shouting rabble, and whose white hair, escaped from
his cap, waved tempestuously in the winter wind. There walked Sorley
Boy, upright, sullen, disdainful; and behind him came Ludar, with tight-
pressed lips and thunderous brow, his fingers twitching nervously on his
belt, and his feet at every step kicking the snow impatiently from his
path. I followed my master as in duty bound, and behind us stalked
fifty more silent Scots.
Such was the procession which conducted Sorley Boy McDonnell at the end
of his stormy career to do homage to the English Queen. How it all came
to pass I know not. But once possessed of Dunluce, with his favourite
son gone from his side, the old man broke down, and sighed for peace.
'Twas said the English paid a good price for his alliance, in territory
for himself, and lands and title for his elder sons. Be that as it may.
He sheathed his sword, and called in his fighting men all round. He
heeded not Ludar's demand for vengeance on his brother's murderers; and,
indeed, forbade any man to mention Sir Alexander's name in his hearing.
Yet day by day the empty chair stood beside his in the castle hall; and
day by day, at the muster call, the young chief's riderless horse fell
into its place betwixt that of the father and the second son, Sir
Randal.
As for Ludar, when after many weeks the fever left him and he rose from
his bed, his father and he met rarely, and spoke less. For the old man
(sad to tell), from the day that he came into his own, had changed
towards his youngest son, and, blaming him for the ill that had befallen
the house, ceased not to reproach and scorn him for his brother's fate.
Never did I see Ludar so noble a man as during those gloomy months.
Never once did he waver in his loyalty to his father; never once did he
suffer a word to be said to rebuke the old man's harshness; never once
did he complain if more than a common soldier's hardships, with a common
soldier's fare, fell to his lot; never once would he allow the men, who
were ready to die for him, raise a shout when he came among them, or
even salute him in his father's presence. He took his punishment as
beseemed a hero; and it was the hard work and stern discipline of those
few months, I think, which braced him up once again into his former
manhood and brought back the glow into his cheeks and the fire into his
eyes.
Concerning the maiden he spake not a word; nor would he suffer me to
speak of her. Only when the English fellow returned who had escorted
her to her father did Ludar order him back, charging him to look to her
safety as he valued his own life; which charge the faithful fellow
cheerfully accepted, and departed.
Of all his trials, this journey of submission to Dublin was the
bitterest to Ludar; and I, as I walked at his heels that day in Dublin
city, could see that every step was a pang. The old man chose to bring
Ludar and not his elder brothers for this very reason; and never a duty
taxed the lad's courage and loyalty more.
So to me the pleasure of marching once again under the royal flag of my
Queen was tempered by the concern I felt for my master.
A vast rabble lined the roads to see the doughty Sorley Boy--the hero of
the North, against whose arms England had fought in vain--march thus, to
the tune of English trumpets, to her Majesty's Castle. But if any
looked to see a hanging head or a meek demeanour they were sore
mistaken. For, as the procession moved on and the shouts grew louder,
the spirit seemed to come back into the old warrior, and he walked
rather as one who marches to war than to peace. Perhaps, had the way
been a mile longer, or had the smirking Lord Deputy looked round
oftener, this notable treaty would never have come about; for, by the
time Sorley Boy reached the Castle gate, he was glaring round him
defiantly, and the hilt of his sword was an inch out of the scabbard.
At the gate the Deputy stood and bade him enter. The old fox gave a
suspicious look round, like one that suspects a trap, and then beckoned
to Ludar.
"Stay here with the men. Let your squire follow me."
So Ludar stayed with the McDonnells at the gate, while I followed Sorley
Boy, amid shouts and flourish of trumpets, into the Castle. All was
prepared to do the old Chief honour. Attendants bowed, guards saluted,
and my Lord Deputy's womenkind waved handkerchiefs from the windows.
Sir John Perrott himself, all smiles, chatted affably. But never a word
spake Sorley Boy.
He stalked on at a pace which made the Deputy trot at his side, and,
heedless of lackeys, guards, ladies and all else, flung into the great
hall.
I followed as in duty bound; and beside me no man but Sir John and Sir
John's secretary.
Then followed a strange scene.
"Sir Sorley Boy," began the Deputy, motioning his guest to a high chair
on the dais, "this is a happy occasion; and I would her Majesty had a
Deputy more--"
"Enough of this," said the Chieftain impatiently. "I came not from
Dunluce to make speeches or bandy words with you. I owe _you_ naught--
or if I do, 'tis a debt you had rather I paid not."
"I," said Sir John, pulling himself up, "as representing her gracious
Majesty--"
Here Sorley Boy stalked off to where a miniature picture of her Majesty
hung on the wall.
"Is this Elizabeth?" demanded he.
"That is a presentment, far short in splendour, of her Majesty's
admirable presence," said the Deputy.
Sorley Boy took the picture in his hand and mused on it in silence. At
length:
"Pray heaven she be no worse favoured in the flesh! Yet, being a woman,
I do her homage."
And, like an old gallant, he doffed his hat, and raised the picture to
his lips.
Thus it was the McDonnell made his peace with the Sassenach. He handed
the picture to me gloomily to replace; which I did after humbly doing it
obeisance on bended knee. Then he summoned me to follow him from the
hall.
Sir John witnessed this strange scene in bewilderment and displeasure.
He had reckoned on the satisfaction of hearing his old foe renounce his
enmity and sue for terms; and it vexed him to find the ceremony thus
taken out of his hands and curtly disposed of by the proud old Scot.
Yet he knew enough of Sorley Boy to take what he could get, and must
needs pocket his pride. Only he made one effort to save his own
dignity.
"Sir Sorley, in her Majesty's name I accept your dutiful homage. It
remains for you to sign this written document of fealty, in return for
which I am bidden hand you her Majesty's gracious permission to you and
your heirs to enjoy your territories without let or hindrance."
The old man laughed scornfully.
"My lands are my own. Let who dares come and take them. Keep your
papers, John Perrott. Come, squire; out into the fresh air."
And he stalked out, followed angrily by the Deputy.
At the Castle gate we found a tumult afoot. For the hot-headed Scots
who waited there face to face with their old enemies had not been able
to restrain their impatience; and, goaded alike by the jeers of the
rabble and the taunts of the Englishmen, had answered threat by threat
and gibe by blow. Ludar himself, already exasperated, had said not a
word to hold them back; and, as the old chief and I came out the gate,
the street was full of war, and dead men lay strewn on either hand.
A shout from Sorley Boy restored order among the redshanks in a moment;
and, without waiting for further parley with the Deputy, he stalked to
the head of his men, and with the single order "To Dunluce!" turned his
back on her Majesty's Castle at Dublin.
But Sir John, fearful, perhaps, of an outbreak in the city, or in
pursuit of a still deeper design, mounted his horse and bade his men
form again the procession to conduct the Queen's new ally to the city
gate. He himself rode forward at a hand's pace beside the old chief,
who heeded him no more than if he had been me or Ludar.
We had come to the gate at the bridge, and the English troops were
halting to let us go out. The strange ceremony of the day was near
ending, and the free country beyond shone in the winter sun, when the
Deputy, suddenly bending level with the old man's ear, said:
"Look up. Behold your son's head!"
Sorley Boy, stood, as did we, and looked up. There on a pole, rocking
in the breeze, above the city gate, looked down upon us a head, livid
and scarred, with eyes set and tawny locks streaming in the wind. 'Twas
a terrible ghastly sight! for, battered as it was, even I could
recognise the once noble features of Alexander McDonnell, as I had seen
him last, reeling under the cowardly blow of that foul Englishman.
The old chief uttered a cry scarcely less terrible to hear than the head
was to see. Then, suddenly commanding himself, he blazed round on the
Deputy and hissed through his teeth:
"My son hath many heads!"
I never saw a man change colour as did Sir John Perrott when he met that
look and heard those bitter words. Men say he went home that afternoon
with that look burned into his breast, and those words dinging in his
ears. Nor, go where he would, could he escape the one or the other.
They possessed him waking and sleeping, in council and in war, at home
and abroad. And, when at last he died, some say he was found crouched
in a corner of his room with his fingers over his eyes and his thumbs on
his ears.
Nor, after what I saw, did I find it in my heart to pity him.
As for Sorley Boy, he walked out of Dublin like a man in a dream. None
of us durst speak to him, or say so much as a word in his hearing. Nor
had we the heart to do it. Ludar with his clenched teeth looked
straight before him; and the Scots who followed, only half comprehending
what had happened, dropped into sullen silence, and gave no sound but
the dull beat of their steps on the road.
About an hour beyond Dublin, Sorley Boy halted and turned to Ludar.
"Ludar McDonnell," said he, sternly, "we part here. I have no son--no
son. Farewell."
And he and the soldiers marched on without another word, leaving Ludar
and me looking after them, and marvelling if all this were what it
seemed or some horrid vision.
Ludar recovered himself sooner than I.
"Come," said he; "why stand you here, Humphrey, when all the world,
except Dunluce, is before us? Let us back to the city."
I knew why he wished to go back. He was thinking not of Sorley Boy or
Dunluce, but of that cruel trophy above the city gate. And in my heart
I pitied the keepers, should they chance to withstand him in his
purpose.
'Twas dark when we crossed the bridge and found ourselves once more
within the walls. The streets were empty, for the night was bleak, and
the troops had long since been called into their quarters. Only a few
sentinels stood about the gate, who, to keep away the cold and cheer
their stomachs, huddled together in a sheltered nook and discussed the
news of the day over ale and sack. Little heeded they the creaking pole
with its horrible burden, as it rocked and swung in the winter wind
above them!
While we waited the snow began to fall and drove the tipplers further
into the shelter of the guard-room, where was a merry fire. Now was our
chance. Ludar led me round to where, over some tumbled stones, we were
able to scramble on to the wall, and thence back towards the gate. So
thick fell the snow that, as we crawled along, we were as white as the
ramparts we passed over, and not a soul could have heard or seen us had
any been there. It was easy to get from the wall on to the gate, and
all might have gone well had not a wolf-hound, imprisoned in the tower,
or left there to do the watching which the sentinel neglected, sprung
out to meet us as we stepped on to the battlement with a mighty howl.
So sudden was his leap that he had Ludar by the throat before we knew
what had happened; and ere I had drawn my sword and saved my master from
so savage a death there was a noise, with shouting and lights, in the
road below.
"Quick!" cried Ludar, springing to his feet and running to the pole.
In a minute he had scaled it and robbed it of its fearful burden.
Already I could tell by the shouts below that we were pursued, but
Ludar, as he stood there, panting, with his precious burden held to his
breast, heeded nothing.
"Come," said I; "we are followed."
He laughed bitterly.
"Humphrey," said he, "as you love me, cut me this hound's head off and
put it there, where my brother's head stood. Quick!"
I did as he bade me, though it cost us precious moments. Nor would he
budge till the grim exchange was made. Then suddenly he descended on
the far side of the gateway. It was well he did so, for there being no
regular way on to the wall that side, our pursuers had mounted by the
other, leaving only a couple of stupid sentinels to watch below.
Happily for us, the snow lay thick and soft; for more than once we fell
as we scaled the ramparts, and might have broken our limbs. Our
pursuers behind, having come to the gate top and finding no one there,
liked not to follow us the way we had gone, and contented themselves
with discharging their pieces into the darkness our way. But we were
out of their reach. For, once on the wall, 'twas easy going, and
instead of descending we made a quarter of the way round the city, till,
somewhere near the north-eastern tower, we slid down by a drift of snow
into the deserted street.
Then, Ludar leading, we returned some distance along by the foot of the
very wall on whose top we had lately crept, to where stood a church,
with a graveyard verging on the wall. Here my comrade halted, and
reverently set down his burden, and between us, as we knelt in the snow,
we digged a grave to shelter it. Our swords served us for spades, nor,
alack! did it need many inches of kind mother earth to hold all that
remained of Alexander McDonnell. With a prayer each, Ludar in his way,
I in mine, we buried that dear relic. Then, beside the place, Ludar
drove his sword deep into the earth, till the hilt stood up like an iron
cross to mark the spot. We stood in silence while the pure snow fell
and laid its white shroud upon the grave. Then, when all was done, he
took my arm, and we walked sadly away.
As we passed down a street not far off, the glow of a tavern fire and
the sound of voices within brought us to a halt. For we were cold and
famished and weary, and the good cheer of the place tempted us. Within
was mine host, a merry Irishman, who loved every man that drank his ale.
Round his great fire sat half-a-dozen guests, two wayfarers like
ourselves, a soldier, a merchant, a sailor, and one who seemed by his
look a private gentleman.
They gave us little enough heed as we entered. Even when mine host,
catching sight of us, came to take our orders, they went on with their
carouse and pulled their benches closer round the fire, with scarcely a
blink our way.
As we sat apart, thawing our frozen limbs in the warmth of the room, and
reviving our inner man with food and drink--we had staked nearly all we
had on this meal--we could not forbear hearing some of the talk that
went on at the fireside.
"By my valour," said the soldier, "I was there and saw it with my own
eyes. The old dotard turned the colour of my teeth when he looked up
and spied it."
"Ay, ay," said the merchant, "I know it was he. I saw the lad in
Cantire once, and a fine lad he was."
"They tell me," said mine host, "a woman was at the bottom of it, as
usual. This Captain Merriman (who oweth me a pretty score for
entertainment in this house), and this lad had a quarrel over a wench,
and 'twas for that he pursued him as he did. Why, sirs, for six weeks
the lad lay hidden in a cave, and for a week more lay quick in a grave,
before Sir Captain, who had never ceased to hunt him, caught him, and
sent up his head to the Deputy here. And now, they say, the wench, who
is particular, not fancying a headless trunk, hath struck her colours
and said yea to the next best man. Poor lass! who's to blame her?"
"Not I," said the soldier, "albeit you are all wrong, mine host, about
this quarrel, for I heard of it from Tom Price, the Captain's man. It
was this headless chief's brother the lass doated on. But it's like
enough she thinks the head was her sweetheart's."
"There was a son of old Sorley's in the pageant to-day; a plaguey ill-
favoured hound, who walked with his father," said the landlord, "with a
face sour enough to curdle all the milk in Dublin."
"That was Sir Ludar," said one of the strangers. "I had it from one of
the redshanks."
"Ludar?" said the soldier; "the very man. 'Tis his wench the Captain
hath run away with. She thinketh him gibbeted, and--"
Here the door was flung open suddenly, and in rushed another soldier.
"Have you heard the news?" he cried.
"News?" cried the others, turning round to look at him.
"Why, yes. Her Majesty hath been robbed of a jewel. The traitor's head
that grinned on the gate hath been stolen, I tell you, and there
sticketh a dog's head in its place. 'Tis true."
"Who has done it?"
"That's the point," said the messenger, who was plainly proud to have so
much news to tell. "That's the point. For we were all on guard, I tell
you. Not a soul passed us. 'Tis said 'twas some spirit." Here he
doffed his cap. "We stood below, I tell you, when there came a blast of
wind in our faces with a smell of brimstone in it. I smelt it. Then
something curled up past us, like a white shroud, and shrieked as it
went up. And, before we could look in one another's faces, a great howl
of devilish laughter broke over our heads, and drops of blood! Yes. I
felt them. Here's one on my sleeve--it burns like fire, I tell you.
That was all. We fetched lights and went aloft (who is to be afraid of
a spirit or two?) but we saw naught. Not a footstep in the snow, or a
sign of man or fiend either--except only a headless dog. Ay, you may
stare, but I saw it--it smoked brimstone, neighbours, and the snow all
around it was red-hot! And what was most horrible of all, when we cast
up our lights, I tell you, the Scot's head had changed to the head of a
dog, which grinned and leered at us, with eyes like coals and tongue all
ablaze, till we could scarce stay where we were. That's all. And ere I
go back to that gate, neighbours, may I turn Pope and Spaniard! Give me
a drink, host, for, by my soul, I know not which end of me is
uppermost."
By this time the company had left their benches and were scattered about
the room, gossiping over this last great news and questioning the fellow
more. Some came to the table where Ludar and I sat; and the soldier,
looking hard at me, exclaimed:
"Where saw I that gallows face before? Who be you, sirrah?"
"A printer," said I.
"You lie," said he, "for I saw you to-day accompany the old Scotsman to
the Castle. And, by my body, that slouching dog there should be--
Hillo! comrades," cried he, amazed at his discovery, "more ghosts! May
I perish if there have not been sitting in this very room while we
talked of him this same sour-faced, love-sick clown, Master Ludar, and
one of his merry men. Marry come up! The very man, skulking here,
while his light-of-love is on her honeymoon, and the old dotard, his
father, with his pockets full of English gold--"
He said no more. Ludar had no sword, but the blow he gave him silenced
his foul tongue for a week. Instantly the room was turned into a
shambles. 'Twas no time to mince words or blows, and we did neither.
Nor were we two left alone to withstand all the rest; for the gentleman
of the party (whom I have mentioned), sided with us, as did also the sea
captain, who owed mine host a long score, and saw a good way to cry
quits without shortening his purse. Among us, we made so good an
account of ourselves, that when at length we took our leave, not a man
bade us stay.
"Come," said the captain, "my ship lies at the bridge. To-morrow we
shall see England."