A Legend of Montrose

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER VI.

  Coming events cast their shadows before.--CAMPBELL.

  At an early hour in the morning the guests of the castle sprung fromtheir repose; and, after a moment's private conversation with hisattendants, Lord Menteith addressed the soldier, who was seated in acorner burnishing his corslet with rot-stone and chamois-leather, whilehe hummed the old song in honour of the victorious Gustavus Adolphus:--

  When cannons are roaring, and bullets are flying, The lad that would have honour, boys, must never fear dying.

  "Captain Dalgetty," said Lord Menteith, "the time is come that we mustpart, or become comrades in service."

  "Not before breakfast, I hope?" said Captain Dalgetty.

  "I should have thought," replied his lordship, "that your garrison wasvictualled for three days at least."

  "I have still some stowage left for beef and bannocks," said theCaptain; "and I never miss a favourable opportunity of renewing mysupplies."

  "But," said Lord Menteith, "no judicious commander allows either flagsof truce or neutrals to remain in his camp longer than is prudent; andtherefore we must know your mind exactly, according to which you shalleither have a safe-conduct to depart in peace, or be welcome to remainwith us."

  "Truly," said the Captain, "that being the case, I will not attemptto protract the capitulation by a counterfeited parley, (a thingexcellently practised by Sir James Ramsay at the siege of Hannau, in theyear of God 1636,) but I will frankly own, that if I like your pay aswell as your provant and your company, I care not how soon I take theoath to your colours."

  "Our pay," said Lord Menteith, "must at present be small, since itis paid out of the common stock raised by the few amongst us who cancommand some funds--As major and adjutant, I dare not promise CaptainDalgetty more than half a dollar a-day."

  "The devil take all halves and quarters!" said the Captain; "were it inmy option, I could no more consent to the halving of that dollar, thanthe woman in the Judgment of Solomon to the disseverment of the child ofher bowels."

  "The parallel will scarce hold, Captain Dalgetty, for I think you wouldrather consent to the dividing of the dollar, than give it up entire toyour competitor. However, in the way of arrears, I may promise you theother half-dollar at the end of the campaign."

  "Ah! these arrearages!" said Captain Dalgetty, "that are alwayspromised, and always go for nothing! Spain, Austria, and Sweden,all sing one song. Oh! long life to the Hoganmogans! if they were noofficers of soldiers, they were good paymasters.--And yet, my lord, ifI could but be made certiorate that my natural hereditament ofDrumthwacket had fallen into possession of any of these loons ofCovenanters, who could be, in the event of our success, convenientlymade a traitor of, I have so much value for that fertile and pleasantspot, that I would e'en take on with you for the campaign."

  "I can resolve Captain Dalgetty's question," said Sibbald, LordMenteith's second attendant; "for if his estate of Drumthwacket be, asI conceive, the long waste moor so called, that lies five miles south ofAberdeen, I can tell him it was lately purchased by Elias Strachan, asrank a rebel as ever swore the Covenant."

  "The crop-eared hound!" said Captain Dalgetty, in a rage; "What thedevil gave him the assurance to purchase the inheritance of a family offour hundred years standing?--CYNTHIUS AUREM VELLET, as we used to sayat Mareschal-College; that is to say, I will pull him out of my father'shouse by the ears. And so, my Lord Menteith, I am yours, hand andsword, body and soul, till death do us part, or to the end of the nextcampaign, whichever event shall first come to pass."

  "And I," said the young nobleman, "rivet the bargain with a month's payin advance."

  "That is more than necessary," said Dalgetty, pocketing the moneyhowever. "But now I must go down, look after my war-saddle andabuilziements, and see that Gustavus has his morning, and tell him wehave taken new service."

  "There goes your precious recruit," said Lord Menteith to Anderson, asthe Captain left the room; "I fear we shall have little credit of him."

  "He is a man of the times, however," said Anderson; "and without such weshould hardly be able to carry on our enterprise."

  "Let us go down," answered Lord Menteith, "and see how our muster islikely to thrive, for I hear a good deal of bustle in the castle."

  When they entered the hall, the domestics keeping modestly in thebackground, morning greetings passed between Lord Menteith, AngusM'Aulay, and his English guests, while Allan, occupying the same settlewhich he had filled the preceding evening, paid no attention whatever toany one. Old Donald hastily rushed into the apartment. "A message fromVich Alister More; [The patronymic of MacDonell of Glengarry.] he iscoming up in the evening."

  "With how many attendants?" said M'Aulay.

  "Some five-and-twenty or thirty," said Donald, "his ordinary retinue."

  "Shake down plenty of straw in the great barn," said the Laird.

  Another servant here stumbled hastily in, announcing the expectedapproach of Sir Hector M'Lean, "who is arriving with a large following."

  "Put them in the malt-kiln," said M'Aulay; "and keep the breadth of themiddenstead between them and the M'Donalds; they are but unfriends toeach other."

  Donald now re-entered, his visage considerably lengthened--"The tell'si' the folk," he said; "the haill Hielands are asteer, I think. EvanDhu, of Lochiel, will be here in an hour, with Lord kens how manygillies."

  "Into the great barn with them beside the M'Donalds," said the Laird.

  More and more chiefs were announced, the least of whom would haveaccounted it derogatory to his dignity to stir without a retinue of sixor seven persons. To every new annunciation, Angus M'Aulay answeredby naming some place of accommodation,--the stables, the loft, thecow-house, the sheds, every domestic office, were destined for the nightto some hospitable purpose or other. At length the arrival of M'Dougalof Lorn, after all his means of accommodation were exhausted, reducedhim to some perplexity. "What the devil is to be done, Donald?" saidhe; "the great barn would hold fifty more, if they would lie headsand thraws; but there would be drawn dirks amang them which should lieupper-most, and so we should have bloody puddings before morning!"

  "What needs all this?" said Allan, starting up, and coming forward withthe stern abruptness of his usual manner; "are the Gael to-day of softerflesh or whiter blood than their fathers were? Knock the head out ofa cask of usquebae; let that be their night-gear--their plaidstheir bed-clothes--the blue sky their canopy, and the heather theircouch.--Come a thousand more, and they would not quarrel on the broadheath for want of room!"

  "Allan is right," said his brother; "it is very odd how Allan, who,between ourselves," said he to Musgrave, "is a little wowf, [WOWF, i.e.crazed.] seems at times to have more sense than us all put together.Observe him now."

  "Yes," continued Allan, fixing his eyes with a ghastly stare upon theopposite side of the hall, "they may well begin as they are to end; manya man will sleep this night upon the heath, that when the Martinmas windshalt blow shall lie there stark enough, and reck little of cold or lackof covering."

  "Do not forespeak us, brother," said Angus; "that is not lucky."

  "And what luck is it then that you expect?" said Allan; and straininghis eyes until they almost started from their sockets, he fell with aconvulsive shudder into the arms of Donald and his brother, who, knowingthe nature of his fits, had come near to prevent his fall. They seatedhim upon a bench, and supported him until he came to himself, and wasabout to speak.

  "For God's sake, Allan," said his brother, who knew the impression hismystical words were likely to make on many of the guests, "say nothingto discourage us."

  "Am I he who discourages you?" said Allan; "let every man face his worldas I shall face mine. That which must come, will come; and we shallstride gallantly over many a field of victory, ere we reach yon fatalslaughter-place, or tread yon sable scaffolds."

  "What slaughter-place? what scaffolds?" exclaimed several voices; forAllan's renown as a seer was generally established in the Hig
hlands.

  "You will know that but too soon," answered Allan. "Speak to me no more,I am weary of your questions." He then pressed his hand against hisbrow, rested his elbow upon his knee, and sunk into a deep reverie.

  "Send for Annot Lyle, and the harp," said Angus, in a whisper, to hisservant; "and let those gentlemen follow me who do not fear a Highlandbreakfast."

  All accompanied their hospitable landlord excepting only Lord Menteith,who lingered in one of the deep embrasures formed by the windows of thehall. Annot Lyle shortly after glided into the room, not ill describedby Lord Menteith as being the lightest and most fairy figure that evertrode the turf by moonlight. Her stature, considerably less than theordinary size of women, gave her the appearance of extreme youth,insomuch, that although she was near eighteen, she might have passedfor four years younger. Her figure, hands, and feet, were formed upon amodel of exquisite symmetry with the size and lightness of herperson, so that Titania herself could scarce have found a more fittingrepresentative. Her hair was a dark shade of the colour usually termedflaxen, whose clustering ringlets suited admirably with her faircomplexion, and with the playful, yet simple, expression of herfeatures. When we add to these charms, that Annot, in her orphan state,seemed the gayest and happiest of maidens, the reader must allow us toclaim for her the interest of almost all who looked on her. In fact, itwas impossible to find a more universal favourite, and she oftencame among the rude inhabitants of the castle, as Allan himself, ina poetical mood, expressed it, "like a sunbeam on a sullen sea,"communicating to all others the cheerfulness that filled her own mind.

  Annot, such as we have described her, smiled and blushed, when, onentering the apartment, Lord Menteith came from his place of retirement,and kindly wished her good-morning.

  "And good-morning to you, my lord," returned she, extending her hand toher friend; "we have seldom seen you of late at the castle, and now Ifear it is with no peaceful purpose."

  "At least, let me not interrupt your harmony, Annot," said LordMenteith, "though my arrival may breed discord elsewhere. My cousinAllan needs the assistance of your voice and music."

  "My preserver," said Annot Lyle, "has a right to my poor exertions; andyou, too, my lord,--you, too, are my preserver, and were the mostactive to save a life that is worthless enough, unless it can benefit myprotectors."

  So saying, she sate down at a little distance upon the bench on whichAllan M'Aulay was placed, and tuning her clairshach, a small harp, aboutthirty inches in height, she accompanied it with her voice. The air wasan ancient Gaelic melody, and the words, which were supposed to be veryold, were in the same language; but we subjoin a translation of them,by Secundus Macpherson, Esq. of Glenforgen, which, although submitted tothe fetters of English rhythm, we trust will be found nearly as genuineas the version of Ossian by his celebrated namesake.

  "Birds of omen dark and foul, Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl, Leave the sick man to his dream-- All night long he heard your scream-- Haste to cave and ruin'd tower, Ivy, tod, or dingled bower, There to wink and mope, for, hark! In the mid air sings the lark.

  "Hie to moorish gills and rocks, Prowling wolf and wily fox,-- Hie you fast, nor turn your view, Though the lamb bleats to the ewe. Couch your trains, and speed your flight, Safety parts with parting night; And on distant echo borne, Comes the hunter's early horn.

  "The moon's wan crescent scarcely gleams, Ghost-like she fades in morning beams; Hie hence each peevish imp and fay, That scare the pilgrim on his way:-- Quench, kelpy! quench, in bog and fen, Thy torch that cheats benighted men; Thy dance is o'er, thy reign is done, For Benyieglo hath seen the sun.

  "Wild thoughts, that, sinful, dark, and deep, O'erpower the passive mind in sleep, Pass from the slumberer's soul away, Like night-mists from the brow of day: Foul hag, whose blasted visage grim Smothers the pulse, unnerves the limb, Spur thy dark palfrey, and begone! Thou darest not face the godlike sun."

  As the strain proceeded, Allan M'Aulay gradually gave signs ofrecovering his presence of mind, and attention to the objects aroundhim. The deep-knit furrows of his brow relaxed and smoothed themselves;and the rest of his features, which had seemed contorted with internalagony, relapsed into a more natural state. When he raised his headand sat upright, his countenance, though still deeply melancholy,was divested of its wildness and ferocity; and in its composed state,although by no means handsome, the expression of his features wasstriking, manly, and even noble. His thick, brown eyebrows, which hadhitherto been drawn close together, were now slightly separated, as inthe natural state; and his grey eyes, which had rolled and flashedfrom under them with an unnatural and portentous gleam, now recovered asteady and determined expression.

  "Thank God!" he said, after sitting silent for about a minute, untilthe very last sounds of the harp had ceased to vibrate, "my soul is nolonger darkened--the mist hath passed from my spirit."

  "You owe thanks, cousin Allan," said Lord Menteith, coming forward,"to Annot Lyle, as well as to heaven, for this happy change in yourmelancholy mood."

  "My noble cousin Menteith," said Allan, rising and greeting him veryrespectfully, as well as kindly, "has known my unhappy circumstances solong, that his goodness will require no excuse for my being thus late inbidding him welcome to the castle."

  "We are too old acquaintances, Allan," said Lord Menteith, "and too goodfriends, to stand on the ceremonial of outward greeting; but half theHighlands will be here to-day, and you know, with our mountain Chiefs,ceremony must not be neglected. What will you give little Annot formaking you fit company to meet Evan Dhu, and I know not how many bonnetsand feathers?"

  "What will he give me?" said Annot, smiling; "nothing less, I hope, thanthe best ribbon at the Fair of Doune."

  "The Fair of Doune, Annot?" said Allan sadly; "there will be bloody workbefore that day, and I may never see it; but you have well reminded meof what I have long intended to do."

  Having said this, he left the room.

  "Should he talk long in this manner," said Lord Menteith, "you must keepyour harp in tune, my dear Annot."

  "I hope not," said Annot, anxiously; "this fit has been a long one, andprobably will not soon return. It is fearful to see a mind, naturallygenerous and affectionate, afflicted by this constitutional malady."

  As she spoke in a low and confidential tone, Lord Menteith naturallydrew close, and stooped forward, that he might the better catch thesense of what she said. When Allan suddenly entered the apartment,they as naturally drew back from each other with a manner expressive ofconsciousness, as if surprised in a conversation which they wished tokeep secret from him. This did not escape Allan's observation; he stoptshort at the door of the apartment--his brows were contracted--his eyesrolled; but it was only the paroxysm of a moment. He passed his broadsinewy hand across his brow, as if to obliterate these signs of emotion,and advanced towards Annot, holding in his hand a very small box madeof oakwood, curiously inlaid. "I take you to witness," he said, "cousinMenteith, that I give this box and its contents to Annot Lyle. Itcontains a few ornaments that belonged to my poor mother--of triflingvalue, you may guess, for the wife of a Highland laird has seldom a richjewel-casket."

  "But these ornaments," said Annot Lyle, gently and timidly refusing thebox, "belong to the family--I cannot accept--"

  "They belong to me alone, Annot," said Allan, interrupting her; "theywere my mother's dying bequest. They are all I can call my own, exceptmy plaid and my claymore. Take them, therefore--they are to me valuelesstrinkets--and keep them for my sake--should I never return from thesewars."

  So saying, he opened the case, and presented it to Annot. "If," said he,"they are of any value, dispose of them for your own support, when thishouse has been consumed with hostile fire, and can no longer affordyou protection. But keep one ring in memory of Allan, who has done, torequite your kindness, if not all he wished, at least all he could."

  Anno
t Lyle endeavoured in vain to restrain the gathering tears, whenshe said, "ONE ring, Allan, I will accept from you as a memorial ofyour goodness to a poor orphan, but do not press me to take more; for Icannot, and will not, accept a gift of such disproportioned value."

  "Make your choice, then," said Allan; "your delicacy may be wellfounded; the others will assume a shape in which they may be more usefulto you."

  "Think not of it," said Annot, choosing from the contents of the casketa ring, apparently the most trifling in value which it contained; "keepthem for your own, or your brother's bride.--But, good heavens!" shesaid, interrupting herself, and looking at the ring, "what is this thatI have chosen?"

  Allan hastened to look upon it, with eyes of gloomy apprehension; itbore, in enamel, a death's head above two crossed daggers. When Allanrecognised the device, he uttered a sigh so deep, that she dropped thering from her hand, which rolled upon the floor. Lord Menteith picked itup, and returned it to the terrified Annot.

  "I take God to witness," said Allan, in a solemn tone, "that your hand,young lord, and not mine, has again delivered to her this ill-omenedgift. It was the mourning ring worn by my mother in memorial of hermurdered brother."

  "I fear no omens," said Annot, smiling through her tears; "and nothingcoming through the hands of my two patrons," so she was wont to callLord Menteith and Allan, "can bring bad luck to the poor orphan."

  She put the ring on her finger, and, turning to her harp, sung, to alively air, the following verses of one of the fashionable songs ofthe period, which had found its way, marked as it was with the quainthyperbolical taste of King Charles's time, from some court masque to thewilds of Perthshire:--

  "Gaze not upon the stars, fond sage, In them no influence lies; To read the fate of youth or age, Look on my Helen's eyes.

  "Yet, rash astrologer, refrain! Too dearly would be won The prescience of another's pain, If purchased by thine own."

  "She is right, Allan," said Lord Menteith; "and this end of an old songis worth all we shall gain by our attempt to look into futurity."

  "She is WRONG, my lord," said Allan, sternly, "though you, who treatwith lightness the warnings I have given you, may not live to see theevent of the omen.--laugh not so scornfully," he added, interruptinghimself "or rather laugh on as loud and as long as you will; your termof laughter will find a pause ere long."

  "I care not for your visions, Allan," said Lord Menteith; "however shortmy span of life, the eye of no Highland seer can see its termination."

  "For heaven's sake," said Annot Lyle, interrupting him, "you know hisnature, and how little he can endure--"

  "Fear me not," said Allan, interrupting her,--"my mind is now constantand calm.--But for you, young lord," said he, turning to Lord Menteith,"my eye has sought you through fields of battle, where Highlanders andLowlanders lay strewed as thick as ever the rooks sat on those ancienttrees," pointing to a rookery which was seen from the window--"my eyesought you, but your corpse was not there--my eye sought you among atrain of unresisting and disarmed captives, drawn up within the boundingwalls of an ancient and rugged fortress;--flash after flash--platoonafter platoon--the hostile shot fell amongst them, They dropped likethe dry leaves in autumn, but you were not among their ranks;--scaffoldswere prepared--blocks were arranged, saw-dust was spread--the priest wasready with his book, the headsman with his axe--but there, too, mine eyefound you not."

  "The gibbet, then, I suppose, must be my doom?" said Lord Menteith. "YetI wish they had spared me the halter, were it but for the dignity of thepeerage."

  He spoke this scornfully, yet not without a sort of curiosity, anda wish to receive an answer; for the desire of prying into futurityfrequently has some influence even on the minds of those who disavow allbelief in the possibility of such predictions.

  "Your rank, my lord, will suffer no dishonour in your person, or by themanner of your death. Three times have I seen a Highlander plant hisdirk in your bosom--and such will be your fate."

  "I wish you would describe him to me," said Lord Menteith, "and Ishall save him the trouble of fulfilling your prophecy, if his plaid bepassible to sword or pistol."

  "Your weapons," said Allan, "would avail you little; nor can I give youthe information you desire. The face of the vision has been ever avertedfrom me."

  "So be it then," said Lord Menteith, "and let it rest in the uncertaintyin which your augury has placed it. I shall dine not the less merrilyamong plaids, and dirks, and kilts to-day."

  "It may be so," said Allan; "and, it may be, you do well to enjoy thesemoments, which to me are poisoned by auguries of future evil. But I," hecontinued--"I repeat to you, that this weapon--that is, such a weapon asthis," touching the hilt of the dirk which he wore, "carries your fate.""In the meanwhile," said Lord Menteith, "you, Allan, have frightenedthe blood from the cheeks of Annot Lyle--let us leave this discourse,my friend, and go to see what we both understand,--the progress of ourmilitary preparations."

  They joined Angus M'Aulay and his English guests, and, in the militarydiscussions which immediately took place, Allan showed a clearnessof mind, strength of judgment, and precision of thought, totallyinconsistent with the mystical light in which his character has beenhitherto exhibited.