O I hae seen the gude auld day,
The day o' pride and chieftain glory,
When royal Stuarts bore the sway,
And ne'er heard tell o' Whig nor Tory.
Though lyart be my locks and gray,
And eild has crook'd me down,--what matter?
I'll dance and sing ae ither day,
That day our King comes o'er the water.
_Jacobite Song._
From the time of the taking of the castle until the arrival of King
Robert, was an interval of high festivity. The Border chiefs and
yeomen went home to their respective places of abode with abundant
spoil, having been loaded with rich presents from the Douglas, as well
as their share of Sir Ringan's numberless booties, which he always
divided among them with great liberality; and it was computed that, in
the course of that predatory warfare, he drove thirty thousand
domestic animals out of the English territory. The Scottish Border
districts were never so well stocked before. For a century previous to
that, they had lain waste, having been entirely depopulated, and left
no better than a hunting forest. That reign enriched them, and its
happy effects have never since been obliterated.
Among other things that happened in this joyful interval, old Peter
Chisholm received a message one day, informing him, that the stranger
to whom he had betrothed his daughter would appear next day to claim
the fulfilment of his promise.
"They'll eat up every thing that's within the house," said Peter: "If
he will have her, it wad suit better for us to meet them at Hawick.
The half o' the expences there wad lye to him at ony rate; and if he
made weel through wi' his hides, mayhap he wad pay the halewort. He's
a brave chield enough, it wad appear; but I wish he had fawn aff the
tap o' his humphed ill-smelled hides, and broken the bane o' his neck;
for it will be a wae sight to me to see the flower of a' the Chisholms
gang away wi' an English cadger. Oh, wae be to the day!"
"What is a man but his word, father?" said Dan. "I think the gallant
way in which the stranger behaved entitles him well, not only to the
flower o' the Chisholms, but to the best in the house beside."
"Ay, ay, that's aye the gate! fling away! fling away! till ye'll soon
fling away every plack your auld father has gathered for ye. But, hark
ye, callant Dan: Gin ye will stand by me, I'll gainsay the fellow yet,
and refuse to gie him my Bess."
"Hear what Bess says hersel," said Dan, "and then I'll gie my answer."
Bess was sent for, who declared not only her willingness, but her
resolution to abide by her father's agreement; but, added, that if a
better came before him, and made her an offer, she would not wait a
minute on her leather-merchant.
"Heard ever ony body the like o' that?' said Peter: "What trow ye is
the chance for that? How lang hae ye hung on the tree wi' a red cheek
an' a ripe lip, and never man to streek out the hand to pu' ye? There
was aince a neighbour I had some hopes o'; an' he has a good heart
too, for a' his jibes, an ane durst but tell him!"
Peter said these last words to himself, as he was turning about to
leave the apartment,--for he was at that time forming in his mind one
of those superlative schemes which strike dotage as plans of the
mightiest and most acute device, but which youth and energy laugh at.
This was no other than to be early astir next morning, and, before any
of his family was aware, gallop over to Craik, a matter of seven
miles, and beg of Will Laidlaw to come and run off with his daughter
before she fell into the hands of an English skin-man. This grand
scheme he actually put in practice, but met Laidlaw and his jovial
party by the way, who wondered not a little when they saw old Pate
coming gallopping up the Fanesh ridge, having his great pike staff
heaved over his shoulder, with which he was every now and then
saluting the far loin of his mare, and that with an energy that made
all his accoutrements wallop. He never perceived the bridal party till
close on them, and till he was asked by half a score voices at once,
"What's the great haste, Castleweary! Where are ye gawn at sic a rate
sae early in the morning? Are your ha's burnt? Are your cattle driven?
Have the Ha's and the Reids been o'er the fells aince mair?" And many
other such questions were put, before Peter got a word spoken or a
thought thought. He only bit his lip, and looked very angry, at being
caught in such a plight. But seeing Will Laidlaw at the head of his
kinsmen, he took him aside, and imparted his grand secret. Will's
sides were like to burst with laughter. He, however, contained
himself, while Peter went on "But ye had better turn a' that clan
again, wha hae nought ado at a' wi' us but put things to waste. The
less din about the thing the better."
"But how are we to answer the skin-merchant when he comes then,
Castleweary? That tremendous buyer of hides will hew us all to
pieces."
"Ay, ye maun just take a' the blame on yoursels, you and Bess. He'll
no mak muckle at the Laidlaw's hands, or he'll do what never ony did
afore him."
"I certainly have the greatest respect for your daughter; but times
are hard and dangerous, and I have nae great opinion o' marriage."
"Come, now, I like to hear that; for ye ken fock maun ay read a
Laidlaw backward; and if the times are hard, I shall be satisfied with
a very small dowry. Perhaps the matter o' ten tup hogs aff the
Crib-law, sax owsen aff Hosecot, and----
"Hold there, my old friend; and I will run all risks, and take away
your daughter Elizabeth; let the skin-man look to himself."
"Weel, God bless ye wi' her. Ye'll get the flower of a' the Chisholms,
and the best bairn o' the bike."
Bess was a winsome and a blithe bride that day, and though the wounds
she received in the engagement with the marauders were not quite
whole, she danced the best at the wedding, and was the first that
lighted on Craik-green. Dan entertained his fellow-soldiers nobly; but
old Peter was terribly in the fidgets, not only at the huge waste of
meat and drink that he now saw going on, but for fear of the arrival
of the outrageous and ill-used hide-merchant, and never till his dying
day could he be brought to identify his son-in-law with the stranger
to whom he first promised his daughter. But for many a day, when the
dogs barked, he hasted out in great agitation, lest the dealer in
skins and his associates should come upon him unawares. Sandie Pott
having found a very kind, attentive, and, withal, a very indulgent
nurse, in the younger daughter, May Chisholm, there chanced two
weddings at Castleweary on the same day.
Among other matters of that eventful period, Isaac the curate mentions
also a petition of the friar to Sir Ringan, that he would use his
interest to get the youthful bard, who had come an adventurer into his
army, replaced in his rights of the lordship of Ravensworth; and
likewise that he would grant him the captive maid, Delany, for his
bride. These important connections had never before come to the
Warden's ears; and when he heard the extraordinary adventures, and
early misfortunes of the twain, he manifested the greatest concern for
their welfare. But the maid, by the laws of those days, was the right
and property of Sir Charles Scott, who seemed unwilling to part with
her, and she not less so to be divided from him, now that his late
honours became him so well. This was a distressing consideration to
the poet, and he would in nowise leave her, to lay claim to his
paternal estate, till he saw how matters would turn in his favour. But
the friar still encouraged him, assuring him, "that he should be
restored to the house and to the inheritance of his fathers; and that
the fairest among the daughters of women, even the sole remaining stem
of the house of Galli the scribe, should be unto him as a spouse and a
comforter."
But among all the festivities at Roxburgh, and all the mighty
preparations for the reception of royalty, and the spending of the
Christmas holidays in such company, the countenance of Douglas was
manifestly overcast. He affected mirth and gaiety, but a hideous and
terrific gloom frequently settled on his dark manly countenance. The
princess's shameful and untimely death hung heavy on his mind, and the
secret of it still heavier. His conscience upbraided him, not with any
blame in the matter, for he was alike ignorant of the rank and sex of
his fantastical page: But her devotion to his cause and person; the
manner in which she had exerted herself by putting her rival into his
hands; the love-tokens slily given to him by her own dear self; her
admonitory letters; and all her whimsical and teazing inuendos, came
over his mind, and combined in rendering her memory ten times dearer
to him than ever he conceived that of human being could have been. And
then, how was all this requited? By bad humour, disrespect, and a
total disregard of her danger and sufferings. The most enthusiastic,
affectionate, and accomplished lady of the age in which she lived, was
suffered to be put down as a common criminal, without one effort
being made to save her; and that delicate and beautiful form thrust
down into a common charnel-house among the vulgar dead. Knowing all
these things as he did, how could he again behold her royal parents?
and knowing all these things as he did, why had he not related
the lamentable facts as they had happened, and conducted himself
accordingly? There was fixed the acme of his dilemma. The detail of
that lady's love and fate rose before his mind's eye, like a dark
unseemly arch, of which this was the key-stone; and there was a power
stood above it that held his soul in controul, and beyond that he
could not pass. Was it indeed true, that the spirit of his royal and
beloved mistress walked the earth, and from day to day laid her stern
behests upon him? And could it be that such a spirit attended upon him
in his most secret retirements; and, though unseen, watched over
all his motions, words, and actions? Or how else could the very
thoughts and purposes of his heart, together with his most secret
transactions, be repeated to him by this holy monk? Nay, though he had
never actually seen this apparition, he had heard his mistress's voice
one night speaking to him as from behind the hangings, and charging
him, as he respected his own and her soul's welfare, to keep her fate
concealed from all flesh.
Whenever the Douglas got leisure to think at all, amid the hurry of
his military duties, these cogitations preyed on his mind; and one
night when they had thrown him into a deep reverie, the monk Benjamin
was announced.
"I cannot see him to-night: Tell him to come and speak with me
to-morrow," said Douglas.
"He craves only a few moments audience, Lord of Douglas; and he says,
that, unless he is admitted, a visitor of another nature will wait on
you forthwith."
"What is the meaning of this?" said Douglas: "Must my privacy be
broken in upon, and my mind placed on the rack, at the pleasure of
every fanatical devotee? Tell him that I will not be disturbed
to-night. But--I think not what I am saying. Admit him. Well, reverend
and holy father--madman rather! What is your important business with
me?"
"That saintly vision has again been with me."
"Out upon thee, maniac and liar! There has been no such thing with
thee; and thou hast trumped up a story in order to keep the power of
the Douglas under thy ghostly and interested controul."
"If I am a visionary, Lord, it is for thyself to judge. I speak
nothing as of myself, but the words of one that has sent me. If thou
darest say they are the visions of a maniac, in future I keep them to
myself, and do you abide by the consequences."
"Thinkest thou that I will not, or that I dare not abide by any
consequences? Hence! Begone!"
"Rash precipitate man! thou shall repent this! What interest can I
possibly have in whispering these truths in thine ear? Did I ever ask
or hint at a favour from thee? Or was aught ever, save thy own
welfare, the purport of my messages? Adieu, my lord! There must
another commissioner wait on you presently, and one who will elude the
most vigilant of your sentinels."
"Stay, Benjamin: Thou art, indeed, blameless. If thou hast ought to
warn me of, say it and have done, for I am not in a mood to be trifled
with."
"I have been bid to caution you to look to yourself, for that there is
treason within the walls of this castle. Will you answer me one or two
queries truly and seriously, that I may know whether the being that
commissioned me be a true spirit or a false one?"
"I will."
"Have you got a private offer to a prodigious amount for the ransom of
Lady Jane Howard?"
"Monk, thou hast had this from hell.--I have."
"Which thou hast rejected, with the secret intent of asking her in
marriage yourself, should circumstances concur to favour the device?"
"It is false!--false as the source whence thou hadst it."
"Ah! Then have I done! my informant is a false one."
"Or, if I had, it was some passing thought, which no man can gainsay,
and for which none are accountable."
"Neither is it true that you visited her in disguise last night?"
The Douglas gazed upon the monk in silence, with an eye in which there
was an unnatural gleam of madness. He drew his breath three times, as
if he would have spoken, but made no answer. The monk continued:
"If these are truths, then list to the following behest,--if they
are false thou needest not regard it: There is a conspiracy among
thy people for the rescue of Lady Jane. They have been bribed by
unheard-of rewards. Thy guards are of course to be cut down, otherwise
the rescue cannot be effected; and if thy own head is added to the
convoy, the guerdons are all to be doubled."
The Douglas started to his feet, and held up both his hands: "By the
blessed Virgin it is true!" exclaimed he--"True every word of it!
There have been petitions made to me for the use of certain keys
already. Ay, and I have granted some of them too. I see through a part
of the conspiracy. But I'll sift the traitors! I'll make carrion of
them."
"If I am rightly informed, it may yet be prevented without being made
manifest, which would be greatly preferable. Beware of Kinlossie. And
list, for my time is expired: If you value your own name, see not the
face of Lady Jane again, till you present her to your sovereign."
The monk retired with precipitation, and left the Douglas overwhelmed
with tumultuary and adverse passions. "Still the Lady Jane Howard!"
said he to himself: "Nothing but the Lady Jane Howard! Is it possible
this can be an agent of hers? But the inference contradicts the whole
scope and tendency of his missions. I must investigate this matter
without delay." He raised his small bugle to his mouth, for in those
days that answered all the purposes of a house bell, and many more.
Every officer in castle or camp knew, by the blast blown, when
his personal attendance was required. Douglas lifted his to his
mouth,--but before he sounded it, the knight in waiting announced "a
lady." No bolder heart than that of Douglas beat in a Scottish bosom.
Nevertheless it quaked; for he thought of the threatening of the monk,
that another commissioner should visit him, whom his guards should not
be able to repel. His agitation was now wrought up to the highest
pitch, for he attempted to pronounce some words, of which the knight
knew not the import,--probably it was a command to expel her, or to
call in some guards; but before the order could be understood or
complied with, the lady herself entered. "There she is, my lord!" said
the knight in a whisper; "and none of us know whence or how she came
hither."
The lady came slowly by, and the knight retired with all speed. She
bore indeed the figure and form of the late princess, but the roses of
youth and beauty were gone, and in their room a clayey paleness
pervaded the features, which were even whiter than the cambric by
which the face was surrounded. The figure held up its right hand as it
advanced, and fixed its eyes on the earl; but no man to this day ever
knew any thing farther of that conference. The knight in waiting,
shortly after he had retired, heard a noise within as of a man choking
and endeavouring to cry out; and, bringing two more attendants with
him, they all three rushed into the apartment, and found the Douglas
fallen back on the embroidered couch in a state of mental abstraction,
or rather of total insensibility, and the lady was gone. They
immediately applied themselves to the restoration of their lord, which
they effected in a short time. Animation soon returned, but reason
wavered in a state of insensibility for several hours. During that
period he had for a number of times inquired who admitted that
stranger, or who saw her depart? The men assuring him each time, that
no one saw her till she was observed standing in the anti-chamber; and
that none was either admitted into the citadel or seen depart, save the
starveling monk who attended him frequently as his confessor. "There has
been another lady," they added, begging admission to your presence for a
whole day and night, which has always been refused here, in consequence
of your peremptory order. She has at the last resorted to the means
always at a woman's command, tears and threatenings; and she vows, that
if she is not admitted to an audience, you shall dearly repent it."
"What, another still?" said the Douglas: "No, I'll see no more women
to-day, nor to-morrow, nor next day. Do you know, Eveldon, what I
think of women?"
"No, Lord Douglas, but well what I think of them myself, which is,
that they are nature's masterpieces."
"The pests of society, Eveldon. I deem them subordinate creatures,
created solely for man's disquietude. The warrior is naturally
surrounded by dangers; but, till he engages with women, he rises
superior to them all; it is then that his troubles and perils begin.
No, I'll see no more women to-night."
"Might I advise, my lord, it would be, that you should give her
admission. It appears so strange to see a lovely and most courtly dame
standing weeping at your gate. The very commonest of the people
sympathise with her, and blame your neglect. Beshrew me, if any knight
in the realm would refuse such a suit; no, not the King himself."
"Do you think, Sir John of Eveldon, that I can submit to be ruled by
women and their agents? I, who never held them as ought save as beings
formed for man's pleasures or his interests. My hands are free of
their blood, Sir John,--my heart, if ever it was in bonds, is now
emancipated; and yet, by their means, has my life of late been held in
thraldom."
"Say that I may admit this dame, my lord."
"Well, be it so, and let us be quit of her. In the mean time, let the
guards be tripled, and stand to your arms. I have had strange
intelligence to-night; if true, there will be a dangerous commotion in
less than an hour hence."
"The forces of the two kingdoms cannot disturb you here to-night, Lord
Douglas."
"See to it,--there is treason within our walls. Who are on guard?"
"The Gordons, and Lindsay of Kinlossie's men."
"The Gordons I can trust,--let the others be changed without delay,
Sir John, and see them consorted to the camp.--Call up the Douglasses
of the Dales, and let them look to themselves. Admit that petitioner
in whom you are so much interested, and call me on the slightest
appearance of insubordination."
Sir John did as he was commanded, and forthwith introduced Mary
Kirkmichael of Balmedie. The impatience and mortification that the
Douglas manifested under this trial is not to be described, for he
had promised to give her information of her royal mistress as soon as
he had it in his power, and yet he neither had the heart nor the
resolution, after the charges he had received of secrecy, to tell her
of her mistress' woeful fate. At Mary's first entrance into his
presence, she rushed forward and kneeled at his feet, crying, in the
most passionate manner, "O, my dear lord, tell me what has become of
my mistress. This suspense is dreadful. The castle is now in your
hands, and all the prisoners, if such there were; but there are
shocking insinuations whispered abroad. Her father and mother are on
their way to visit you here; and what shall I say to them for the loss
of my dear mistress? O, Lord Douglas, if you know of her, as know of
her you must, tell me where I can see her. Dead or alive, let me but
see her. Or tell me when I shall see her."
"Lady, that is more than I can tell you; but if it will give you any
heart's ease, as certainly as I speak to you I saw her in this
apartment to-night."
"Blessed are the news to me, my lord! But why, then, won't you admit
me to her? Send me instantly to her presence, Lord Douglas, for I know
she cannot be in any state of concealment in which my company cannot
be welcome. I implore of you to send me forthwith to her presence."
"Send you to her presence? That would be a cruel act! Dame, you and
your sex have moved my spirit from its erect and heavenward position.
It is like a tree bowed by the wind, and the branch of memory is
stripped of its fruit. Did I say I saw the Princess Margaret in this
apartment?--You must not credit it. There's an incoherence in the
principle, or nature has hasty productions not accounted for. You must
not believe it, lady; for till the porter opens the great gate to you,
your royal mistress you shall not see again."
"Are not all the gates opened or shut at your controul, my lord? You
speak to me in paradoxes. I comprehend it all well enough, however. I
will go in or out at any gate; only, in one word, conduct me to my
mistress."
"Hell has no plague like this! No, there are no other fiends that can
torment a man in this manner." He blew his bugle.--"Eveldon, conduct
this dame to her mistress. She in the great state prison, you know,
the receptacle of royalty and thraldom, and let me not hear another
word. I'll throw him over the battlements that next mentions the name
of a woman to me."
The lady curtsied, and thanked the Douglas; and Sir John, mistaking
his lord's frantic sarcasm for a serious command, hurried Mary
Kirkmichael up stairs to the topmost apartment of the great tower, and
ushered her in, without farther ceremony, to Lady Jane Howard and her
attendant. Lady Jane rose and came running toward them; but, seeing
who approached, she started, and retreated to her place. As the two
ascended the narrow staircase, there was a great commotion in the
square below, therefore, Sir John turned the key and hastened down
again. The noise increased, and he heard there was a stern engagement,
in which the name of Lady Jane was given as a rallying word on the one
side. At the bottom of the stair the conspirators met him, having
broken through the ranks in that direction; for the Gordons flew to
guard the apartments of the Douglas, not knowing what the object of
the insurrection was. Sir John had just time to shut a double-barred
door in front of them; and, retreating up one storey, he shouted from
the balcony to apprize the Douglas, else the Lady Jane Howard was
gone. One from the ranks ran to apprize the captain, but losing
himself among the intricacies of the entrance, he shouted out, "Lord
Douglas! Lord Douglas!" with the utmost vociferation. The Douglas was
sitting in a deep reverie; his drawn sword was lying on the table
beside him. He heaved it above his shoulder, and running to the door
of the apartment, opened it, and asked the fellow, who was still
bawling in the dark, what it was? "'Tis the Lady Jane Howard!"
answered he, in the same shouting voice. "Damnation on the tongue that
says it!" exclaimed the Douglas in ire: "Am I never more to hear aught
repeated but the names of women? Do you know the penalty of that word,
recreant? I have sworn to throw you from the battlements, but that
shall not prevent me from cleaving you to the earth in the first
place. Women! women! Nothing but one woman after another! I'll cut
down every man that dares name one to me in that manner!" As he said
these words, he rushed toward the soldier with his heavy sword heaved,
but the man, flying with all expedition, escaped into the court. The
Douglas followed him, and was soon in the midst of a confused
engagement; and hearing the conspirators shouting the same name, "Lady
Jane Howard!" he took it as in derision, and flew on their ranks with
such fury, that every man at whom he struck fell to the ground. The
Gordons followed him up, crying "A Douglas!" but the conspirators
were the stronger party, and would ultimately have prevailed, had not
the Douglasses of the Dales arrived to change guard as formerly
ordered; and then, Kinlossie having fallen in an attempt to slay the
Douglas, his party surrendered. There was a strong troop of English
horsemen waiting on the other side of the Teviot with a raft, to whom
she was to have been let down from the wall. But the information
lodged by the monk not only frustrated the whole of this desperate
expedition of the Howards, but saved the life of Douglas. For the
conspirators receiving the unexpected orders to depart to the camp,
were driven to make the attempt prematurely; before their measures
formerly concocted were ripe for execution.
Of all the circumstances that had hitherto occurred, the reflection
upon this bewildered the mind of Douglas the most. The manner in
which these secret combinations had been revealed to him filled his
heart both with gratitude and amazement; and as all endeavours at
reconciling them with nature or reason only increased the mystery, he
resolved to shake the load from his spirits and think no more of them.
That he might effect this with greater promptitude, he kept his noble
kinsmen constantly about him by night as well as by day. The Redhough
also returned from his visit to Mountcomyn, as did all the knights and
gentlemen commoners of his party from their respective homes, mounted
in their most splendid accoutrements, to greet their Sovereign, render
him an account of their services, and proffer him due homage. But,
among all these Border chiefs, there was none whose appearance
attracted so much admiration as that of Sir Charles Scott of Raeburn
and Yardbire. Before that time, the only attention he had ever paid to
his habiliments, was that of procuring the best suits of armour that
could possibly be obtained. As the leader of the Warden's vanguard
column, and his right-hand files in line, he knew it behoved him to be
well armed, and in that article he was never deficient. But now that
he had to appear before his Sovereign in full pride of array, as the
knight of Raeburn and the Warden's right-hand man, he deemed it
requisite to have an equipment becoming his rank; so he rummaged the
old oaken wardrobe and armour-chest at Yardbire, and from the knightly
spoils of ages got himself fitted out, by a skilful hand, in a style
that amazed all his former compeers. Both himself and his horse Corbie
were literally covered with burnished gold; while the playful
restiveness of the one, and the manly and almost colossal figure of
the other, rendered the appearance of our warrior a sight truly worthy
of admiration. The activity and elasticity of all his motions,
combined with his invincible muscular strength, and urbanity of
countenance and manners, rendered Charlie at all times an interesting
object; but till once he appeared in his plumes and light armour
studded with gold, no one could have believed that he was so comely
and graceful a personage. At the same time the very consciousness of
his appearance, and the rank that he was obliged to support, raised
his personal carriage and address many degrees, as by a charm; so
that whenever the Warden and his train presented themselves, strangers
always appeared disposed to move their bonnets to Sir Charles, whom
they took for a king, or an earl at the very least.
The arrival of these heroes added a great deal to the hilarity,
tilting, and other military amusements at Roxburgh; until at last the
24th of December arrived, and with it the word that the King and Queen
were on their way to Roxburgh, and approaching by the wild path of
Soutra-edge. There was no bustle at the castle or city of Roxburgh,
save by the city dames and maidens, for whom the approaching festival
appeared a glorious epocha; for since the days of Edward Longshanks,
who kept his court there for some weeks, there had not been a crowned
head within the precincts of that illustrious city. Consequently, with
these fair denizens, and with the merchants who attended that mart
once a year from many of the towns on the Continent, it was a time of
hurry and preparation; but with the warriors it was far otherwise.
They were ready before; every one being alike anxious to fulfil the
part entrusted to him,--so that they had nothing ado but to mount and
ride in the order assigned to them.
First of all rode Sir Ringan Redhough, supported by all the gentlemen of
the middle and west marches--the Scotts, the Elliots, the Armstrongs,
and the Olivers, were the most powerful of these: And next in order came
the Laidlaws, the Brydens, the Glendenyngs, and the Potts. After them
rode the copper-nosed Kers, the towzy Turnbulls, and the red-wudd
Ridderfords; for in those days every sept had some additional
appellative or by-name. These were also mixed with a number of smaller
septs, such as the Robsons, the Dicksons, the hurkle-backed Hendersons,
and the rough-riding Riddels; and they were all headed by the doughty
Sir Andrew Ker of Aultonburn. Next in order rode Old Willie Wiliecoat,
named also _Willie wi' the white doublet_, the ancestor of the Earls of
Home,--a brave and dauntless character, who for the space of forty
years had been a sight of terror to the English, with his white jacket.
With him rode the gentlemen of his own name, the hard-rackle Homes, the
dorty Dunbars, the strait-laced Somervilles, and the Baillies. Then came
the proud Pringles, a powerful sept, mixed with a countless number of
dependent families, headed by Pringle of Galashiels; and after them the
Gordons, led by Sir John of that ilk.
All these held lands of the Douglas, on conditions of certain
services; they were nevertheless all independent chiefs, these
services performed; but at this time they attended personally, with
their kinsmen, to pay their dutiful respects to their Sovereign. Last
of all came the Douglasses, in five separate bodies, every one headed
by a lord or knight of the name; and these made up one-third of the
whole cavalcade, the Earl himself being with the last party of all,
and most gallantly attended.
The two parties met at Earlston, but the royal party was nothing in
point of bearing and splendour to that of the Douglasses. The King and
Queen travelled each in a litter borne by two gallant steeds. These
carriages were very splendid in their decorations, and constructed in
the same way as a sedan chair, and it was truly wonderful with what
velocity they were borne along. They were contrived for the King's
use, who had a halt, and could not travel on horseback; and they
suited the state of the roads in Scotland at that period exceedingly.
Two heralds rode before his Majesty, who introduced the various chiefs
to him as he passed, and those others of whose names he enquired,
among whom Sir Charles Scott was the first. The Queen and her Maries
also saluted him along with the Warden. The whole procession then drew
up in files until their Majesties passed, after which they fell all
into their places, the order of precedency being then reversed, and
the Douglasses next to the Sovereign. There was no time for delay,
considering the season, the darkness of the night, and the shortness
of the day; so they posted on with all manner of expedition, and yet
it was dark before they reached the abbey of Kelso. But all the way,
by the cloisters, the bridge, and up the High-street of the city of
Roxburgh, there were tiers of torches raised above one another that
made it lighter than the noon-day. Never was there such a scene of
splendour witnessed in that ancient and noble city; to which the
darkness of the canopy above, and the glare of torch-light below,
added inconceivable grandeur. It seemed as if all the light and beauty
of the universe had been confined within that narrow space, for
without all was blackness impervious to the eye, but within there was
nothing but brilliancy, activity, and joy. Seven score musical
instruments, and as many trilling but discordant voices, yelled forth,
from the one end of the street to the other, that old song beginning,
"The King came to our town;
Ca' Cuddie, ca' Cuddie!
The King came to our town,
Low on the Border."
The trumpets sounded before, and the bugles behind; and the Border
youths and maidens were filled with enthusiastic delight at the
novelty of the spectacle. They followed with shouts to the castle
gate, and then returned to talk of what they had seen, and what they
should see on the morrow.
The royal party was conducted to the citadel, where every thing was in
readiness for a grand entertainment; and there the Douglas delivered
into the King's hands the keys of the castle of Roxburgh. His Majesty
received them most graciously, and thanked him for all the cost,
pains, and trouble that he had taken for the good of the realm;
and added, that he came prepared in heart and mind to fulfil his
engagements to him in return. There was now a manifest embarrassment
on the part of the Douglas; his countenance changed, and he looked as
he would have asked for the Princess, or, at least, as if some one
were wanting that ought to have been there; but after an agitated
pause, he could only stammer out, that "he was much beholden to his
Majesty, who might at all times command his utmost services without
bounty or reward."
"I trust that is not as much as to say that you now decline the
stipulated reward for this high service," said the King.
"Sire, I see none either for your Majesty to give, or your servant to
receive," said the Douglas; and at the same time he cast a hasty and
perturbed glance at the courtiers and warriors ranged around the hall.
The king nodded by way of assent to his hint; and at the same time
said to him, aside, "I understand you, Lord Douglas. You will explain
this gallantry of yours, in keeping your sovereign's daughter in
concealment from her natural guardians, in private to-morrow. But,
pray, can we not see our darling to-night?"
"Alas, my liege lord and sovereign," said Douglas, passionately, "sure
you jest with your servant, thus to tax him with that of which he is
innocent."
The King smiled, and waving his hand jocularly, by way of intimating
that he thought his affected secrecy prudence at that time, left him,
and forthwith went halting up among the Borderers, to converse with
them about the affairs of the English marches. The stately and
commanding figure of Charlie Scott, who was like Saul among the
people, again attracted the King's eyes, and he went familiarly
up to him, and said at once, "Well, gallant knight, how have
accounts balanced between you and your southern neighbours since
last Lammas-tide?"
"Gude faith, my liege lord and king, I can hardly tell you," said Sir
Charles, without hesitation: "There hae been some hard yerks gaun; but
the last quarter stands rather aboon an average wi' us. It is a kittle
bauk that hings o'er the Border, my liege; it is often nae sooner down
to the yird than it is up to the starns again."
"Well said, knight! I like your fair wit and free humour," said the
King. "So, upon the whole, you judge that the balance preponderates on
our side just now?"
"I should think sae, Sire, when sic a clod as this castle of Roxburgh
is thrown into the bucket. It is nae witherweight this for the end of
a weigh-bauk. A' the kye o' the Seven Dales winna carry the swee to
the south side again."
The Queen, hearing her lord conversing so freely and jocularly with
this goodly personage, came also up with two of her ladies of honour,
in order to put in a word; "for (says Isaac, with great simplicity)
women always like to be striking kemps with a handsome and proper man;
and the bigger of bone, and the stronger of muscle, the more is he the
object of their admiration."
When Sir Charles had finished the last remark, therefore, the Queen
smiled complacently in his face, and said, "You must certainly
acknowledge, gallant knight, that you have been much indebted to
heaven for your singular success in this instance?"
Sir Charles nodded his head. "Its a' that ye ken about it, my lady
queen. But saft be the sough that says it. I trow we were mair
indebted to some other place in the first instance."
The Queen held up her hands: "Uh! what does the knight mean? Say, my
lord, What? What place?" Then turning to Sir Ringan, who was terribly
in the fidgets about what had dropped from his kinsman, she added, "I
trust our right traist warden and loving cousin did not practise any
of the diabolical arts, so prevalent of late, to accomplish his hard
task?" And then, with a woman's natural volubility, when once her
tongue is set a-going, she added, turning to Charlie, without waiting
the Warden's reply, "What place does Sir Charles mean? I hope you
would not insinuate that you had any dealings with the spirits of
darkness?"
"Not with hell directly, madam," answered Charlie, (for Isaac can
never help calling him occasionally by his old title,) "but I canna
say that we didna get a strong hint frae ane or twa of its principal
agents. No offence, my lady queen. I ken by report, that your Majesty
takes supreme delight in religious devotions; and, to tell the truth,
I have always had a strong hankering that gate mysel', and hope I will
hae till the day of my death. But there is ae thing in the whilk I am
greatly altered. Pray, may I take the liberty to ask what is your
Majesty's opinion about the deil?"
"Uh! gracious St Mary be with us! What a question, knight! Why, what
can I think but that he is the great enemy of God and man, and the
author of universal evil?"
"There I think differently," said Charlie, bowing very low: "Always
begging my lady queen's gracious pardon, that's the only tenet o' my
belief that is altered;--at least an it be nae fairly altered, it is
considerably jumbled, and nought like sae steadfast as it was. Always
begging your pardon though, madam."
"I am quite confounded," said the Queen. "Pray, warrior, what do you
mean?"
"Plainly this, my lady queen; that I think the old gentleman has been
sair abused; and that there are some na meikle better than him wha
have been a great deal better ca'd. It may sound a little odd in your
ears, but I hae now seen him. I hae sat wi' him; I hae eaten, I hae
drunken wi' him; and gin it hadna been for the interference of women,
we wad hae partit civilly. But whenever they get a finger in a pye,
there will be some ane burnt in the opening o't. Always begging your
Majesty's pardon, though."
"The Queen crossed herself, and counted her beads; but at the same
time bestowed a smile and look of admiration on this extraordinary
hero who had accomplished such singular adventures. These encouraging
Sir Charles to finish his sentence, he added: "They hae frightit me
wi' him lang; and sair has my neb been hauden at the grindstane wi'
the fear o' him. I durst hardly say or think that ane of a' the
members of my body was my ain wi' perfect terror. But thae days are a'
o'er. An' the bedesmen be gaun to fright me ony langer wi' a deil,
they maun get a new ane; for the auld ane winna stand his ground to
any extent wi' me on that score. He has doubtless some bad qualities;
some wicked vagaries about him; but, upon the whole, I have met wi'
waur fellows."
This introduction, in spite of Sir Ringan's endeavours to waive the
subject, led to the whole narrative of the transactions at Aikwood, of
which the Queen and her maidens of honour were never wearied,
although at the same time many an Ave Maria and Paternoster the
subject cost them. When obliged, from the lateness of the hour, to
desist listening to the agitating theme, the Queen was never at rest
until it was renewed next day; nor even then till she had gone and
visited the great hill of Eildon thus miraculously cleft asunder and
divided into three; and even after quaking at the scene, she grew
still more importunate in her inquiries, so that there was no
satisfying her curiosity on the subject of the enchantments of Master
Michael Scott all the time she remained in Roxburgh.
When she retired to her chamber that first night she inquired
for a confessor, and the knight in waiting introduced the monk
Benjamin; intimating, that since the capture of the castle he had been
confessor-general to all within its walls. The Queen's devotions that
night were prolonged until an early hour next morning; nevertheless she
arose from her sleep greatly refreshed, and in high spirits, and at the
breakfast-table was more than usually gay. Not so with Douglas, over
whose countenance, in spite of all exertions to the contrary, hung a
heavy gloom, as well as a manifest abstraction of thought. The King, who
was a person of strong discernment, observed this, and, from some
indefinite dread of the cause, involuntarily partook of the sensation.