THE WITHERED GARLAND
Meanwhile Sholto fared onwards down the side of the sullen water of
Dee. The dwellers along the bank were all on the alert, and cried many
questions to him about the death of the Earl, most thinking him a
merchant travelling from Edinburgh to take ship at Kirkcudbright.
Sholto answered shortly but civilly, for the inquirers were mostly
decent folk well on in years, whose lads had gone to the levy, and who
naturally desired to know wherefore their sons had been summoned.
In return he asked everywhere for news of any cavalcade which might
have passed that way, but neither from the country folk, nor yet from
hoof-marks upon the grassy banks, could he glean the least information
pertinent to the purpose of his quest.
Not till he came within a few miles of the town did he meet with man
or woman who could give him any material assistance. It was by the
Fords of Tongland that he first met with one Tib MacLellan, who with
much volubility and some sagacity retailed fresh fish to the burghers
of Kirkcudbright and the whole countryside, giving a day to each
district so long as the supply of her staple did not fail.
"Fair good day to ye, mistress!" said Sholto, taking off his bonnet to
the sonsy upstanding fishwife.
"And to you, bonny lad," replied the complimented dame, dropping a
courtesy, "may the corbie never cry at ye nor ill-faured pie juik at
your left elbow. May candle creesh never fa' on ye, red fire burn ye,
nor water scald ye."
Tib was reeling off her catalogue of blessings when Sholto cut her
short.
"Can you tell me, good lady," he asked, in his most insinuating tones,
"if there has been any vessel cleared from the port during these last
weeks?"
"'Deed, sir, that I should ken, for is no my ain sister marriet on
Jock Wabster, wha's cousin by marriage twice removed is the bailie
officer o' the port? So I can advise ye that there was a boat frae the
Isle o' Man wi' herrin's for the great houses, though never a fin o'
them like the halesome fish I carry here in my creel. Wad ye like to
see them, to buy a dozen for the bonny lass that's waiting for ye?
That were a present to recommend ye, indeed--far mair than your gaudy
flowers, fule ballads, and sic like trash!"
"You cannot remember any other ship of larger size than the Manx
fishing-boat?" continued Sholto.
"Weel, no to ca' cleared frae the port," Tib went on, "but there was a
pair o' uncanny-looking foreign ships that lay oot there by the
Manxman's Lake for eight days, and the nicht afore yestreen they gaed
oot with the tide. They were saying aboot the foreshore that they gaed
west to some other port to tak' on board the French monzie that cam'
to the Thrieve at the great tournaying! But I kenna what wad tak' him
awa' to the Fleet or the Ferry Toon o' Cree, and leave a' the
pleasures o' Kirkcudbright ahint him. Forbye sic herrin's as are
supplied by me, Tib MacLellan, at less than cost price--as I houp
your honour will no forget, when in the course o' natur' and the
providence o' God you and her comes to hae a family atween ye."
Sholto promised that he would not forget when the time alluded to
arrived. Then, turning his jennet off the direct road to Kirkcudbright
town, and betaking him through the Ardendee fords, he made all speed
towards a little port upon the water of Fleet, at the point where that
fair moorland stream winds lazily through the water-meadows for a mile
or two, after its brawling passage down from the hills of heather and
before it commits itself to the mother sea.
But it was not until he had long crossed it and reached the lonely
Cassencary shore that Sholto found his first trace of the lost
maidens. For as he rode along the cliffs his keen eye noted a
well-marked trail through the heather approaching the shore at right
angles to his own line of march. The tracks, still perfectly evident
in the grassy places, showed that as many as twenty horses had passed
that way within the last two or three days. He stood awhile examining
the marks, and then, leading his beast slowly by the bridle, he
continued to follow them westward till they became confused and lost
near a little jetty erected by the lairds of Cree and Cassencary for
convenience of traffic with Cumberland and the Isle of Man. Here on
the very edge of the foreshore, blown by some chance wind behind a
stone and wonderfully preserved there, Sholto found a child's chain of
woodbine entwined with daisies and autumnal pheasant's eye. He took it
up and examined it. Some of the flowers were not yet withered. The
inter-weaving was done after a fashion he had taught the little Maid
of Galloway himself, one happy day when he had walked on air with the
glamour of Maud Lindesay's smiles uplifting his heart. For that
tricksome grace had asked him to teach her also, and he remembered the
lingering touch of her fingers ere she could compass the quaint device
of the pheasant's eye peeping out from the midst of each white
festoon.
Then a deep despair settled down on Sholto's spirit. He knew that Maud
Lindesay and the fair Maid of Galloway had undoubtedly fallen into the
power of the terrible Marshal de Retz, Sieur of Machecoul, ambassador
of the King of France, and also many things else which need not in
this place be put on record.