“When Piercie Shafton boasteth high,
Let this token meet his eye.
The sun is westering from the dell,
Thy wish is granted--fare thee well!”
As the White Lady spoke or chanted these last words, she undid from her
locks a silver bodkin around which they were twisted, and gave it to
Halbert Glendinning; then shaking her dishevelled hair till it fell like
a veil around her, the outlines of her form gradually became as diffuse
as her flowing tresses, her countenance grew pale as the moon in her
first quarter, her features became indistinguishable, and she melted
into the air.
Habit inures us to wonders; but the youth did not find himself alone
by the fountain without experiencing, though in a much less degree,
the revulsion of spirits which he had felt upon the phantom's former
disappearance. A doubt strongly pressed upon his mind, whether it
were safe to avail himself of the gifts of a spirit which did not even
pretend to belong to the class of angels, and might, for aught he knew,
have a much worse lineage than that which she was pleased to avow. “I
will speak of it,” he said, “to Edward, who is clerkly learned, and will
tell me what I should do. And yet, no--Edward is scrupulous and wary.--I
will prove the effect of her gift on Sir Piercie Shafton, if he again
braves me, and by the issue, I will be myself a sufficient judge whether
there is danger in resorting to her counsel. Home, then, home--and we
shall soon learn whether that home shall longer hold me; for not again
will I brook insult, with my father's sword by my side, and Mary for the
spectator of my disgrace.”
Chapter the Eighteenth.
I give thee eighteenpence a-day,
And my bow shall thou bear,
And over all the north country,
I make thee the chief rydere.
And I thirteenpence a-day, quoth the queen,
By God and by my faye,
Come fetch thy payment when thou wilt,
No man shall say thee nay.
WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLEY.
The manners of the age did not permit the inhabitants of Glendearg to
partake of the collation which was placed in the spence of that ancient
tower, before the Lord Abbot and his attendants, and Sir Piercie
Shafton. Dame Glendinning was excluded, both by inferiority of rank and
by sex, for (though it was a rule often neglected) the Superior of Saint
Mary's was debarred from taking his meals in female society. To Mary
Avenel the latter, and to Edward Glendinning the former, incapacity
attached; but it pleased his lordship to require their presence in
the apartment, and to say sundry kind words to them upon the ready and
hospitable reception which they had afforded him.
The smoking haunch now stood upon the table; a napkin, white as snow,
was, with due reverence, tucked under the chin of the Abbot by the
Refectioner; and nought was wanting to commence the repast, save the
presence of Sir Piercie Shafton, who at length appeared, glittering
like the sun, in a carnation-velvet doublet, slashed and puffed out with
cloth of silver, his hat of the newest block, surrounded by a hatband
of goldsmith's work, while around his neck he wore a collar of gold, set
with rubies and topazes so rich, that it vindicated his anxiety for the
safety of his baggage from being founded upon his love of mere finery.
This gorgeous collar or chain, resembling those worn by the knights of
the highest orders of chivalry, fell down on his breast, and terminated
in a medallion.
“We waited for Sir Piercie Shafton,” said the Abbot, hastily assuming
his place in the great chair which the Kitchener advanced to the table
with ready hand.
“I pray your pardon, reverend father, and my good lord,” replied that
pink of courtesy; “I did but wait to cast my riding slough, and
to transmew myself into some civil form meeter for this worshipful
company.”
“I cannot but praise your gallantry, Sir Knight,” said the Abbot,
“and your prudence, also, for choosing the fitting time to appear thus
adorned. Certes, had that goodly chain been visible in some part of your
late progress, there was risk that the lawful owner might have parted
company therewith.”
“This chain, said your reverence?” answered Sir Piercie; “surely it is
but a toy, a trifle, a slight thing which shows but poorly with this
doublet--marry, when I wear that of the murrey-coloured double-piled
Genoa velvet, puffed out with ciprus, the gems, being relieved and set
off by the darker and more grave ground of the stuff, show like stars
giving a lustre through dark clouds.”
“I nothing doubt it,” said the Abbot, “but I pray you to sit down at the
board.”
But Sir Piercie had now got into his element, and was not easily
interrupted--“I own,” he continued, “that slight as the toy is, it might
perchance have had some captivation for Julian--Santa Maria!” said
he, interrupting himself; “what was I about to say, and my fair and
beauteous Protection, or shall I rather term her my Discretion, here
in presence!--Indiscreet hath it been in your Affability, O most lovely
Discretion, to suffer a stray word to have broke out of the penfold of
his mouth, that might overleap the fence of civility, and trespass on
the manor of decorum.”
“Marry!” said the Abbot, somewhat impatiently, “the greatest discretion
that I can see in the matter is, to eat our victuals being hot--Father
Eustace, say the Benedicite, and cut up the haunch.”
The Sub-Prior readily obeyed the first part of the Abbot's injunction,
but paused upon the second--“It is Friday, most reverend,” he said in
Latin, desirous that the hint should escape, if possible, the ears of
the stranger.
“We are travellers,” said the Abbot, in reply, “and _viatoribus licitum
est_--You know the canon--a traveller must eat what food his hard fate
sets before him. I grant you all a dispensation to eat flesh this day,
conditionally that you, brethren, say the Confiteor at curfew time, that
the knight give alms to his ability, and that all and each of you
fast from flesh on such day within the next month that shall seem
most convenient;--wherefore fall to and eat your food with cheerful
countenances, and you, Father Refectioner, _da mixtus_.”
While the Abbot was thus stating the conditions on which his indulgence
was granted, he had already half finished a slice of the noble haunch,
and now washed it down with a flagon of Rhenish, modestly tempered with
water.
“Well is it said,” he observed, as he required from the Refectioner
another slice, “that virtue is its own reward; for though this is but
humble fare, and hastily prepared, and eaten in a poor chamber, I do not
remember me of having had such an appetite since I was a simple brother
in the Abbey of Dundrennan, and was wont to labour in the garden from
morning until nones, when our Abbot struck the _Cymbalum_. Then would I
enter keen with hunger, parched with thirst, (_da mihi vinum quaeso, et
merum sit_,) and partake with appetite of whatever was set before us,
according to our rule; feast or fast day, _caritas_ or _penitentia_, was
the same to me. I had no stomach complaints then, which now crave both
the aid of wine and choice cookery, to render my food acceptable to my
palate, and easy of digestion.”
“It may be, holy father,” said the Sub-Prior, “an occasional ride to the
extremity of Saint Mary's patrimony, may have the same happy effect on
your health as the air of the garden at Dundrennan.”
“Perchance, with our patroness's blessing, such progresses may advantage
us,” said the Abbot; “having an especial eye that our venison is
carefully killed by some woodsman that is master of his craft.”
“If the Lord Abbot will permit me,” said the Kitchener, “I think the
best way to assure his lordship on that important point, would be to
retain as a yeoman-pricker, or deputy-ranger, the eldest son of this
good woman, Dame Glendinning, who is here to wait upon us. I should
know by mine office what belongs to killing of game, and I can safely
pronounce, that never saw I, or any other _coquinarius_, a bolt so
justly shot. It has cloven the very heart of the buck.”
“What speak you to us of one good shot, father?” said Sir Piercie;
“I would advise you that such no more maketh a shooter, than doth one
swallow make a summer--I have seen this springald of whom you speak, and
if his hand can send forth his shafts as boldly as his tongue doth utter
presumptuous speeches, I will own him as good an archer as Robin Hood.”
“Marry,” said the Abbot, “and it is fitting we know the truth of this
matter from the dame herself; for ill advised were we to give way to
any rashness in this matter, whereby the bounties which Heaven and our
patroness provide might be unskilfully mangled, and rendered unfit for
worthy men's use.--Stand forth, therefore, dame Glendinning, and tell to
us, as thy liege lord and spiritual Superior, using plainness and truth,
without either fear or favour, as being a matter wherein we are deeply
interested, Doth this son of thine use his bow as well as the Father
Kitchener avers to us?”
“So please your noble fatherhood,” answered Dame Glendinning with a
deep curtsy, “I should know somewhat of archery to my cost, seeing my
husband--God assoilzie him!--was slain in the field of Pinkie with an
arrow-shot, while he was fighting under the Kirk's banner, as became
a liege vassal of the Halidome. He was a valiant man, please your
reverence, and an honest; and saving that he loved a bit of venison, and
shifted for his living at a time as Border-men will sometimes do, I wot
not of sin that he did. And yet, though I have paid for mass after mass
to the matter of a forty shilling, besides a quarter of wheat and four
firlocks of rye, I can have no assurance yet that he has been delivered
from purgatory.”
“Dame,” said the Lord Abbot, “this shall be looked into heedfully; and
since thy husband fell, as thou sayest, in the Kirk's quarrel, and
under her banner, rely upon it that we will have him out of purgatory
forthwith--that is, always provided he be there.--But it is not of
thy husband whom we now devise to speak, but of thy son; not of a shot
Scotsman, but of a shot deer--Wherefore, I say, answer me to the point,
is thy son a practised archer, ay or no?”
“Alack! my reverend lord,” replied the widow, “and my croft would
be better tilled, if I could answer your reverence that he is
not.--Practised archer!--marry, holy sir, I would he would practise
something else--cross-bow and long-bow, hand-gun and hack-but, falconet
and saker, he can shoot with them all. And if it would please this right
honourable gentleman, our guest, to hold out his hat at the distance of
a hundred yards, our Halbert shall send shaft, bolt, or bullet through
it, (so that right honourable gentleman swerve not, but hold out
steady,) and I will forfeit a quarter of barley if he touch but a knot
of his ribands. I have seen our old Martin do as much, and so has our
right reverend the Sub-Prior, if he be pleased to remember it.”
“I am not like to forget it, dame,” said Father Eustace; “for I knew
not which most to admire, the composure of the young marksman, or the
steadiness of the old mark. Yet I presume not to advise Sir Piercie
Shafton to subject his valuable beaver, and yet more valuable person, to
such a risk, unless it should be his own special pleasure.”
“Be assured it is not,” said Sir Piercie Shafton, something hastily;
“be well assured, holy father, that it is not. I dispute not the lad's
qualities, for which your reverence vouches. But bows are but wood,
strings are but flax, or the silk-worm excrement at best; archers are
but men, fingers may slip, eyes may dazzle, the blindest may hit the
butt, the best marker may shoot a bow's length beside. Therefore will we
try no perilous experiments.”
“Be that as you will, Sir Piercie,” said the Abbot; “meantime we will
name this youth bow-bearer in the forest granted to us by good King
David, that the chase might recreate our wearied spirits, the flesh of
the dear improve our poor commons, and the hides cover the books of our
library; thus tending at once to the sustenance of body and soul.”
“Kneel down, woman, kneel down,” said the Refectioner and the Kitchener,
with one voice, to Dame Glendinning, “and kiss his lordship's hand, for
the grace which he has granted to thy son.”
They then, as if they had been chanting the service and the responses,
set off in a sort of duetto, enumerating the advantages of the
situation.
“A green gown and a pair of leathern galligaskins every Pentecost,” said
the Kitchener.
“Four marks by the year at Candlemas,” answered the Refectioner.
“A hogshead of ale at Martlemas, of the double strike, and single ale at
pleasure, as he shall agree with the Cellarer--”
“Who is a reasonable man,” said the Abbot, “and will encourage an active
servant of the convent.”
“A mess of broth and a dole of mutton or beef, at the Kitchener's, on
each high holiday,” resumed the Kitchener.
“The gang of two cows and a palfrey on our Lady's meadow.” answered his
brother officer.
“An ox-hide to make buskins of yearly, because of the brambles,” echoed
the Kitchener.
“And various other perquisites, _quae nunc praescribere longum_,” said
the Abbot, summing, with his own lordly voice, the advantages attached
to the office of conventional bow-bearer.
Dame Glendinning was all this while on her knees, her head mechanically
turning from the one church officer to the other, which, as they stood
one on each side of her, had much the appearance of a figure moved by
clock-work, and so soon as they were silent, most devotedly did she
kiss the munificent hand of the Abbot. Conscious, however, of Halbert's
intractability in some points, she could not help qualifying her
grateful and reiterated thanks for the Abbot's bountiful proffer, with a
hope that Halbert would see his wisdom, and accept of it.
“How,” said the Abbot, bending his brows, “accept of it?--Woman, is thy
son in his right wits?”
Elspeth, stunned by the tone in which this question was asked, was
altogether unable to reply to it. Indeed, any answer she might have made
could hardly have been heard, as it pleased the two office-bearers of
the Abbot's table again to recommence their alternate dialogue.
“Refuse!” said the Kitchener.
“Refuse!” answered the Refectioner, echoing the other's word in a tone
of still louder astonishment.
“Refuse four marks by the year!” said the one.
“Ale and beer--broth and mutton--cow's grass and palfrey's!” shouted the
Kitchener.
“Gown and galligaskins!” responded the Refectioner.
“A moment's patience, my brethren,” answered the Sub-Prior, “and let us
not be thus astonished before cause is afforded of our amazement. This
good dame best knoweth the temper and spirit of her son--this much I can
say, that it lieth not towards letters or learning, of which I have in
vain endeavoured to instil into him some tincture. Nevertheless, he is
a youth of no common spirit, but much like those (in my weak judgment)
whom God raises up among a people when he meaneth that their deliverance
shall be wrought out with strength of hand and valour of heart. Such
men we have seen marked with a waywardness, and even an obstinacy of
character, which hath appeared intractability and stupidity to those
among whom they walked and were conversant, until the very opportunity
hath arrived in, which it was the will of Providence that they should be
the fitting instrument of great things.”
“Now, in good time hast thou spoken, Father Eustace,” said the Abbot;
“and we will see this swankie before we decide upon the means of
employing him.--How say you, Sir Piercie Shafton, is it not the court
fashion to suit the man to the office, and not the office to the man?”
“So please your reverence and lordship,” answered the Northumbrian
knight, “I do partly, that is, in some sort, subscribe to what your
wisdom hath delivered--Nevertheless, under reverence of the Sub-Prior,
we do not look for gallant leaders and national deliverers in the hovels
of the mean common people. Credit me, that if there be some flashes of
martial spirit about this young person, which I am not called upon to
dispute, (though I have seldom seen that presumption and arrogance were
made good upon the upshot by deed and action,) yet still these will
prove insufficient to distinguish him, save in his own limited and lowly
sphere--even as the glowworm, which makes a goodly show among the grass
of the field, would be of little avail if deposited in a beacon-grate.”
“Now, in good time,” said the Sub-Prior, “and here comes the young
huntsman to speak for himself;” for, being placed opposite to the
window, he could observe Halbert as he ascended the little mound on
which the tower was situated.
“Summon him to our presence,” said the Lord Abbot; and with an obedient
start the two attendant monks went off with emulous alertness. Dame
Glendinning sprung away at the same moment, partly to gain an instant to
recommend obedience to her son, partly to prevail with him to change his
apparel before coming in presence of the Abbot. But the Kitchener and
Refectioner, both speaking at once, had already seized each an arm, and
were leading Halbert in triumph into the apartment, so that she could
only ejaculate, “His will be done; but an he had but had on him his
Sunday's hose!”
Limited and humble as this desire was, the fates did not grant it, for
Halbert Glendinning was hurried into the presence of the Lord Abbot and
his party, without a word of explanation, and without a moment's time
being allowed to assume his holiday hose, which, in the language of the
time, implied both breeches and stockings.
Yet, though thus suddenly presented amid the centre of all eyes, there
was something in Halbert's appearance which commanded a certain degree
of respect from the company into which he was so unceremoniously
intruded, and the greater part of whom were disposed to consider him
with hauteur if not with absolute contempt. But his appearance and
reception we must devote to another chapter.
* * * * * * *
Chapter the Nineteenth.
Now choose thee, gallant, betwixt wealth and honour;
There lies the pelf, in sum to bear thee through
The dance of youth, and the turmoil of manhood,
Yet leave enough for age's chimney-corner;
But an thou grasp to it, farewell ambition,
Farewell each hope of bettering thy condition,
And raising thy low rank above the churls
That till the earth for bread.
OLD PLAY.
It is necessary to dwell for some brief space on the appearance and
demeanour of young Glendinning, ere we proceed to describe his interview
with the Abbot of St. Mary's, at this momentous crisis of his life.
Halbert was now about nineteen years old, tall and active rather than
strong, yet of that hardy conformation of limb and sinew, which promises
great strength when the growth shall be complete, and the system
confirmed. He was perfectly well made, and, like most men who have that
advantage, possessed a grace and natural ease of manner and carriage,
which prevented his height from being the distinguished part of his
external appearance. It was not until you had compared his stature with
that of those amongst or near to whom he stood, that you became
sensible that the young Glendinning was upwards of six feet high. In the
combination of unusual height with perfect symmetry, ease, and grace of
carriage, the young heir of Glendearg, notwithstanding his rustic birth
and education, had greatly the advantage even of Sir Piercie Shafton
himself, whose stature was lower, and his limbs, though there was
no particular point to object to, were on the whole less exactly
proportioned. On the other hand, Sir Piercie's very handsome countenance
afforded him as decided an advantage over the Scotsman, as regularity of
features and brilliance of complexion could give over traits which were
rather strongly marked than beautiful, and upon whose complexion the
“skyey influences,” to which he was constantly exposed, had blended
the red and white into the purely nut-brown hue, which coloured alike
cheeks, neck, and forehead, and blushed only in a darker glow upon the
former.--Halbert's eyes supplied a marked and distinguished part of
his physiognomy. They were large and of a hazel colour, and sparkled in
moments of animation with such uncommon brilliancy, that it seemed as
if they actually emitted light. Nature had closely curled the locks of
dark-brown hair, which relieved and set off the features, such as we
have described them, displaying a bold and animated disposition, much
more than might have been expected from his situation, or from his
previous manners, which hitherto had seemed bashful, homely, and
awkward.
Halbert's dress was certainly not of that description which sets off to
the best advantage a presence of itself prepossessing. His jerkin and
hose were of coarse rustic cloth, and his cap of the same. A belt
round his waist served at once to sustain the broad-sword which we have
already mentioned, and to hold five or six arrows and bird-bolts, which
were stuck into it on the right side, along with a large knife hilted
with buck-horn, or, as it was then called, a dudgeon-dagger. To complete
his dress, we must notice his loose buskins of deer's hide, formed so as
to draw up on the leg as high as the knee, or at pleasure to be thrust
down lower than the calves. These were generally used at the period by
such as either had their principal occupation, or their chief pleasure,
in silvan sports, as they served to protect the legs against the rough
and tangled thickets into which the pursuit of game frequently led
them.--And these trifling particulars complete his external appearance.
It is not easy to do justice to the manner in which young Glendinning's
soul spoke through his eyes when ushered so suddenly into the company of
those whom his earliest education had taught him to treat with awe and
reverence. The degree of embarrassment, which his demeanor evinced, had
nothing in it either meanly servile, or utterly disconcerted. It was no
more than became a generous and ingenuous youth of a bold spirit, but
totally inexperienced, who should for the first time be called upon to
think and act for himself in such society and under such disadvantageous
circumstances. There was not in his carriage a grain either of
forwardness or of timidity, which a friend could have wished away.
He kneeled and kissed the Abbot's hand, then rose, and retiring two
paces, bowed respectfully to the circle around, smiling gently as he
received an encouraging nod from the Sub-Prior, to whom alone he was
personally known, and blushing as he encountered the anxious look of
Mary Avenel, who beheld with painful interest the sort of ordeal to
which her foster-brother was about to be subjected. Recovering from the
transient flurry of spirits into which the encounter of her glance had
thrown him, he stood composedly awaiting till the Abbot should express
his pleasure.
The ingenuous expression of countenance, noble form, and graceful
attitude of the young man, failed not to prepossess in his favor the
churchmen in whose presence he stood. The Abbot looked round, and
exchanged a gracious and approving glance with his counsellor Father
Eustace, although probably the appointment of a ranger, or bow-bearer,
was one in which he might have been disposed to proceed without the
Sub-Prior's advice, were it but to show his own free agency. But the
good mien of the young man now in nomination was such, that he rather
hastened to exchange congratulation on meeting with so proper a subject
of promotion, than to indulge any other feeling. Father Eustace enjoyed
the pleasure which a well-constituted mind derives from seeing a benefit
light on a deserving object; for as he had not seen Halbert since
circumstances had made so material a change in his manner and feelings,
he scarce doubted that the proffered appointment would, notwithstanding
his mother's uncertainty, suit the disposition of a youth who had
appeared devoted to woodland sports, and a foe alike to sedentary or
settled occupation of any kind. The Refectioner and Kitchener were so
well pleased with Halbert's prepossessing appearance, that they seemed
to think that the salary, emoluments, and perquisites, the dole, the
grazing, the gown, and the galligaskins, could scarce be better bestowed
than on the active and graceful figure before them.
Sir Piercie Shafton, whether from being more deeply engaged in his own
cogitations, or that the subject was unworthy of his notice, did not
seem to partake of the general feeling of approbation excited by the
young man's presence. He sate with his eyes half shut, and his arms
folded, appearing to be wrapped in contemplations of a nature deeper
than those arising out of the scene before him. But, notwithstanding his
seeming abstraction and absence of mind, there was a flutter of vanity
in Sir Piercie's very handsome countenance, an occasional change of
posture from one striking attitude (or what he conceived to be such)
to another, and an occasional stolen glance at the female part of the
company, to spy how far he succeeded in riveting their attention, which
gave a marked advantage, in comparison, to the less regular and more
harsh features of Halbert Glendinning, with their composed, manly, and
deliberate expression of mental fortitude.
Of the females belonging to the family of Glendearg, the Miller's
daughter alone had her mind sufficiently at leisure to admire, from time
to time, the graceful attitudes of Sir Piercie Shafton; for both Mary
Avenel and Dame Glendinning were waiting in anxiety and apprehension
the answer which Halbert was to return to the Abbot's proposal, and
fearfully anticipating the consequences of his probable refusal.
The conduct of his brother Edward, for a lad constitutionally shy,
respectful, and even timid, was at once affectionate and noble. This
younger son of Dame Elspeth had stood unnoticed in a corner, after
the Abbot, at the request of the Sub-Prior, had honoured him with some
passing notice, and asked him a few common-place questions about his
progress in Donatus, and in the _Promptuarium Parvulorum_, without
waiting for the answers. From his corner he now glided round to his
brother's side, and keeping a little behind him, slid his right hand
into the huntsman's left, and by a gentle pressure, which Halbert
instantly and ardently returned, expressed at once his interest in his
situation, and his resolution to share his fate.
The group was thus arranged, when, after the pause of two or three
minutes, which he employed in slowly sipping his cup of wine, in order
that he might enter on his proposal with due and deliberate dignity, the
Abbot at length expressed himself thus:--
“My son--we your lawful Superior, and the Abbot, under God's favour,
of the community of Saint Mary's, have heard of your manifold good
gifts--a-hem--especially touching wood-craft--and the huntsman-like
fashion in which you strike your game, truly and as a yeoman should, not
abusing Heaven's good benefits by spoiling the flesh, as is too often
seen in careless rangers--a-hem.” He made here a pause, but observing
that Glendinning only replied to his compliment by a bow, he
proceeded,--“My son, we commend your modesty; nevertheless, we will
that thou shouldst speak freely to us touching that which we have
premeditated for thine advancement, meaning to confer on thee the office
of bow-bearer and ranger, as well over the chases and forests wherein
our house hath privilege by the gifts of pious kings and nobles, whose
souls now enjoy the fruits of their bounties to the Church as to those
which belong to us in exclusive right of property and perpetuity. Thy
knee, my son--that we may, with our own hand, and without loss of time,
induct thee into office.”
“Kneel down,” said the Kitchener on the one side; and “Kneel down,” said
the Refectioner on the other.
But Halbert Glendinning remained standing.
“Were it to show gratitude and good-will for your reverend lordship's
noble offer, I could not,” he said, “kneel low enough, or remain long
enough kneeling. But I may not kneel to take investure of your
noble gift, my Lord Abbot, being a man determined to seek my fortune
otherwise.”
“How is that, sir?” said the Abbot, knitting his brows; “do I hear you
speak aright? and do you, a born vassal of the Halidome, at the moment
when I am destining to you such a noble expression of my good-will,
propose exchanging my service for that of any other?”
“My lord,” said Halbert Glendinning, “it grieves me to think you hold
me capable of undervaluing your gracious offer, or of exchanging
your service for another. But your noble proffer doth but hasten the
execution of a determination which I have long since formed.”
“Ay, my son,” said the Abbot, “is it indeed so?--right early have
you learned to form resolutions without consulting those on whom you
naturally depend. But what may it be, this sagacious resolution, if I
may so far pray you?”
“To yield up to my brother and mother,” answered Halbert, “mine
interest in the fief of Glendearg, lately possessed by my father, Simon
Glendinning: and having prayed your lordship to be the same kind and
generous master to them, that your predecessors, the venerable Abbots
of Saint Mary's, have been to my fathers in times past; for myself, I am
determined to seek my fortune where I may best find it.”
Dame Glendinning here ventured, emboldened by maternal anxiety, to
break silence with an exclamation of “O my son!” Edward clinging to his
brother's side, half spoke, half whispered, a similar ejaculation, of
“Brother! brother!”
The Sub-Prior took up the matter in a tone of grave reprehension, which,
as he conceived, the interest he had always taken in the family at
Glendearg required at his hand.
“Wilful young man,” he said, “what folly can urge thee to push back the
hand that is stretched out to aid thee? What visionary aim hast
thou before thee, that can compensate for the decent and sufficient
independence which thou art now rejecting with scorn?”
“Four marks by the year, duly and truly,” said the Kitchener.
“Cow's-grass, doublet, and galligaskins,” responded the Refectioner.
“Peace, my brethren,” said the Sub-Prior; “and may it please your
lordship, venerable father, upon my petition, to allow this headstrong
youth a day for consideration, and it shall be my part so to
indoctrinate him, as to convince him what is due on this occasion to
your lordship, and to his family, and to himself.”
“Your kindness, reverend father,” said the youth, “craves my dearest
thanks--it is the continuance of a long train of benevolence towards me,
for which I give you my gratitude, for I have nothing else to offer. It
is my mishap, not your fault, that your intentions have been frustrated.
But my present resolution is fixed and unalterable. I cannot accept the
generous offer of the Lord Abbot; my fate calls me elsewhere, to scenes
where I shall end it or mend it.”
“By our Lady,” said the Abbot, “I think the youth be mad indeed--or that
you, Sir Piercie, judged of him most truly, when you prophesied that he
would prove unfit for the promotion we designed him--it may be you knew
something of this wayward humour before?”
“By the mass, not I,” answered Sir Piercie Shafton, with his usual
indifference. “I but judged of him by his birth and breeding; for seldom
doth a good hawk come out of a kite's egg.”
“Thou art thyself a kite, and kestrel to boot,” replied Halbert
Glendinning, without a moment's hesitation.
“This in our presence, and to a man of worship?” said the Abbot, the
blood rushing to his face.
“Yes, my lord,” answered the youth; “even in your presence I return to
this gay man's face, the causeless dishonour--which he has flung on my
name. My brave father, who fell in the cause of his country, demands
that justice at the hands of his son!”
“Unmannered boy!” said the Abbot.
“Nay, my good lord,” said the knight, “praying pardon for the
coarse interruption, let me entreat you not to be wroth with this
rustical--Credit me, the north wind shall as soon puff one of your rocks
from its basis, as aught which I hold so slight and inconsiderate as the
churlish speech of an untaught churl, shall move the spleen of Piercie
Shafton.”
“Proud as you are, Sir Knight,” said Halbert, “in your imagined
superiority, be not too confident that you cannot be moved.”
“Faith, by nothing that thou canst urge,” said Sir Piercie.
“Knowest thou, then, this token?” said young Glendinning, offering to
him the silver bodkin he had received from the White Lady.
Never was such an instant change, from the most contemptuous serenity,
to the most furious state of passion, as that which Sir Piercie Shafton
exhibited. It was the difference between a cannon lying quiet in its
embrasure, and the same gun when touched by the linstock. He started
up, every limb quivering with rage, and his features so inflamed and
agitated by passion, that he more resembled a demoniac, than a man under
the regulation of reason. He clenched both his fists, and thrusting them
forward, offered them furiously at the face of Glendinning, who was even
himself startled at the frantic state of excitation which his action
had occasioned. The next moment he withdrew them, struck his open palm
against his own forehead, and rushed out of the room in a state of
indescribable agitation. The whole matter had been so sudden, that no
person present had time to interfere.
When Sir Piercie Shafton had left the apartment, there was a moment's
pause of astonishment; and then a general demand that Halbert
Glendinning should instantly explain by what means he had produced such
a violent change in the deportment of the English cavalier.
“I did nought to him,” answered Halbert Glendinning, “but what you all
saw--am I to answer for his fantastic freaks of humour?”
“Boy,” said the Abbot, in his most authoritative manner, “these
subterfuges shall not avail thee. This is not a man to be driven from
his temperament without some sufficient cause. That cause was given by
thee, and must have been known to thee. I command thee, as thou wilt
save thyself from worse measure, to explain to me by what means thou
hast moved our friend thus--We choose not that our vassals shall drive
our guests mad in our very presence, and we remain ignorant of the means
whereby that purpose is effected.”
“So may it please your reverence, I did but show him this token,” said
Halbert Glendinning, delivering it at the same time to the Abbot, who
looked at it with much attention, and then, shaking his head, gravely
delivered it to the Sub-Prior, without speaking a word.
Father Eustace looked at the mysterious token with some attention; and
then addressing Halbert in a stern and severe voice, said, “Young man,
if thou wouldst not have us suspect thee of some strange double-dealing
in this matter, let us instantly know whence thou hadst this token, and
how it possesses an influence on Sir Piercie Shafton?”--It would have
been extremely difficult for Halbert, thus hard pressed, to have either
evaded or answered so puzzling a question. To have avowed the truth
might, in those times, have occasioned his being burnt at a stake,
although, in ours, his confession would have only gained for him the
credit of a liar beyond all rational credibility. He was fortunately
relieved by the return of Sir Piercie Shafton himself, whose ear caught,
as he entered, the sound of the Sub-Prior's question.
Without waiting until Halbert Glendinning replied, he came forward,
whispering to him as he passed, “Be secret--thou shalt have the
satisfaction thou hast dared to seek for.”
When he returned to his place, there were still marks of discomposure on
his brow; but, becoming apparently collected and calm, he looked around
him, and apologized for the indecorum of which he had been guilty, which
he ascribed to sudden and severe indisposition. All were silent, and
looked on each other with some surprise.
The Lord Abbot gave orders for all to retire from the apartment, save
himself, Sir Piercie Shafton, and the Sub-Prior. “And have an eye,” he
added, “on that bold youth, that he escape not; for if he hath practised
by charm, or otherwise, on the health of our worshipful guest, I swear
by the alb and mitre which I wear, that his punishment shall be most
exemplary.”
“My lord and venerable father,” said Halbert, bowing respectfully, “fear
not but that I will abide my doom. I think you will best learn from the
worshipful knight himself, what is the cause of his distemperature, and
how slight my share in it has been.”
“Be assured,” said the knight, without looking up, however, while he
spoke, “I will satisfy the Lord Abbot.”
With these words the company retired, and with them young Glendinning.
When the Abbot, the Sub-Prior, and the English knight were left alone,
Father Eustace, contrary to his custom, could not help speaking the
first. “Expound unto us, noble sir,” he said, “by what mysterious means
the production of this simple toy could so far move your spirit, and
overcome your patience, after you had shown yourself proof to all the
provocation offered by this self-sufficient and singular youth?”
The knight took the silver bodkin from the good father's hand, looked at
it with great composure, and, having examined it all over, returned it
to the Sub-Prior, saying at the same time, “In truth, venerable father,
I cannot but marvel, that the wisdom implied alike in your silver hairs,
and in your eminent rank, should, like a babbling hound, (excuse the
similitude,) open thus loudly on a false scent. I were, indeed, more
slight to be moved than the leaves of the aspen-tree, which wag at the
least breath of heaven, could I be touched by such a trifle as this,
which in no way concerns me more than if the same quantity of silver
were stricken into so many groats. Truth is, that from my youth upward,
I have been subjected to such a malady as you saw me visited with even
now--a cruel and searching pain, which goeth through nerve and bone,
even as a good brand in the hands of a brave soldier sheers through limb
and sinew--but it passes away speedily, as you yourselves may judge.”
“Still,” said the Sub-Prior, “this will not account for the youth
offering to you this piece of silver, as a token by which you were
to understand something, and, as we must needs conjecture, something
disagreeable.”
“Your reverence is to conjecture what you will,” said Sir Piercie; “but
I cannot pretend to lay your judgment on the right scent when I see it
at fault. I hope I am not liable to be called upon to account for the
foolish actions of a malapert boy?”
“Assuredly,” said the Sub-Prior, “we shall prosecute no inquiry which
is disagreeable to our guest. Nevertheless,” said he, looking to his
Superior, “this chance may, in some sort, alter the plan your lordship
had formed for your worshipful guest's residence for a brief term in
this tower, as a place alike of secrecy and of security; both of which,
in the terms which we now stand on with England, are circumstances to be
desired.”
“In truth,” said the Abbot, “and the doubt is well thought on, were it
as well removed; for I scarce know in the Halidome so fitting a place
of refuge, yet see I not how to recommend it to our worshipful guest,
considering the unrestrained petulance of this headstrong youth.”
“Tush! reverend sirs--what would you make of me?” said Sir Piercie
Shafton. “I protest, by mine honour, I would abide in this house were I
to choose. What! I take no exceptions at the youth for showing a flash
of spirit, though the spark may light on mine own head. I honour the
lad for it. I protest I will abide here, and he shall aid me in striking
down a deer. I must needs be friends with him, and he be such a shot:
and we will speedily send down to my lord Abbot a buck of the first
head, killed so artificially as shall satisfy even the reverend
Kitchener.”
This was said with such apparent ease and good-humour, that the Abbot
made no farther observation on what had passed, but proceeded to
acquaint his guest with the details of furniture, hangings, provisions,
and so forth, which he proposed to send up to the Tower of Glendearg for
his accommodation. This discourse, seasoned with a cup or two of
wine, served to prolong the time until the reverend Abbot ordered his
cavalcade to prepare for their return to the Monastery.
“As we have,” he said, “in the course of this our toilsome journey,
lost our meridian, [Footnote: The hour of repose at noon, which, in the
middle ages, was employed in slumber, and which the monastic rules of
nocturnal vigils rendered necessary.] indulgence shall be given to those
of our attendants who shall, from very weariness, be unable to attend
the duty at prime, [Footnote: _Prime_ was the midnight service of the
monks.] and this by way of misericord or _indulgentia._” [Footnote:
_Misericord,_ according to the learned work of Fosbrooke on British
Monachism, meant not only an indulgence, or exoneration from particular
duties, but also a particular apartment in a convent, where the monks
assembled to enjoy such indulgences or allowances as were granted beyond
the rule.]
Having benevolently intimated a boon to his faithful followers, which he
probably judged would be far from unacceptable, the good Abbot, seeing
all ready for his journey, bestowed his blessing on the assembled
household--gave his hand to be kissed by Dame Glendinning--himself
kissed the cheek of Mary Avenel, and even of the Miller's maiden, when
they approached to render him the same homage--commanded Halbert to rule
his temper, and to be aiding and obedient in all things to the
English Knight--admonished Edward to be _discipulus impiger atque
strenuus_--then took a courteous farewell of Sir Piercie Shafton,
advising him to lie close, for fear of the English borderers, who might
be employed to kidnap him; and having discharged these various offices
of courtesy, moved forth to the courtyard, followed by the whole
establishment. Here, with a heavy sigh, approaching to a groan, the
venerable father heaved himself upon his palfrey, whose dark purple
housings swept the ground; and, greatly comforted that the discretion of
the animal's pace would be no longer disturbed by the gambadoes of Sir
Piercie and his prancing war-horse, he set forth at a sober and steady
trot upon his return to the Monastery.
When the Sub-Prior had mounted to accompany his principal, his eye
sought out Halbert, who, partly hidden by a projection of the outward
wall of the court, stood apart from, and gazing upon the departing
cavalcade, and the group which assembled around them. Unsatisfied with
the explanation he had received concerning the mysterious transaction
of the silver bodkin, yet interesting himself in the youth, of whose
character he had formed a favourable idea, the worthy monk resolved
to take an early opportunity of investigating that matter. In the
meanwhile, he looked upon Halbert with a serious and warning aspect, and
held up his finger to him as he signed farewell. He then joined the rest
of the churchmen, and followed his Superior down the valley.
Chapter the Twentieth.
I hope you'll give me cause to think you noble.
And do me right with your sword, sir, as becomes
One gentleman of honour to another;
All this is fair, sir--let us make no days on't,
I'll lead your way.