by Walter Scott
CHAPTER THE NINTH.
Beware! beware! of the black Friar, He still retains his sway, For he is yet the Church's heir by right, Whoever may be the lay. Amundeville is lord by day, But the monk is lord by night, Nor wine nor wassel could raise a vassal To question that friar's right. Don Juan, CANTO XVII.
The minstrel made no vain boast of the skill which he possessed in theuse of pen and ink. In fact, no priest of the time could have producedhis little scroll more speedily, more neatly composed, or more fairlywritten, than were the lines addressed "To the youth called Augustine,son of Bertram the Minstrel."
"I have not folded this letter," said he, "nor tied it with silk, forit is not expressed so as to explain the mystery to you; nor, to speakfrankly, do I think that it can convey to you any intelligence; but itmay be satisfactory to show you what the letter does not contain, andthat it is written from and to a person, who both mean kindly towardsyou and your garrison."
"That," said the governor, "is a deception which is easily practised;it tends, however, to show, though not with certainty, that you aredisposed to act upon good faith; and until the contrary appear, I shallconsider it a point of duty to treat you with as much gentleness as thematter admits of. Meantime, I will myself ride to the Abbey of SaintBride, and in person examine the young prisoner; and as you say he hasthe power, so I pray to Heaven he may have the will, to read thisriddle, which seems to throw us all into confusion." So saying, heordered his horse, and while it was getting ready, he perused withgreat composure the minstrel's letter. Its contents ran thus:--
"DEAR AUGUSTINE,
"Sir John de Walton, the governor of this castle, has conceived thosesuspicions which I pointed out as likely to be the consequence of ourcoming to this country without an avowed errand. I at least am seized,and threatened with examination under torture, to force me to tell thepurpose of our journey; but they shall tear the flesh from my bones,ere they force me to break the oath which I have taken. And the purportof this letter is to apprize you of the danger in which you stand ofbeing placed in similar circumstances, unless you are disposed toauthorize me to make the discovery to this knight; but on this subjectyou are only to express your own wishes, being assured they shall be inevery respect attended to by your devoted
"BERTRAM."
This letter did not throw the smallest light upon the mystery of thewriter. The governor read it more than once, and turned it repeatedlyin his hand, as if he had hoped by that mechanical process to drawsomething from the missive, which at a first view the words did notexpress; but as no result of this sort appeared, De Walton retired tothe hall, where he informed Sir Aymer de Valence, that he was goingabroad as far as the Abbey of Saint Bride, and that he would be obligedby his taking upon him the duties of governor during his absence. SirAymer, of course, intimated his acquiescence in the charge; and thestate of disunion in which they stood to each other, permitted nofurther explanation.
Upon the arrival of Sir John de Walton at the dilapidated shrine, theabbot, with trembling haste, made it his business immediately to attendthe commander of the English garrison, upon whom for the present, theirhouse depended for every indulgence they experienced, as well as forthe subsistence and protection necessary to them in so perilous aperiod. Having interrogated this old man respecting the youth residingin the Abbey, De Walton was informed that he had been indisposed sinceleft there by his father, Bertram, a minstrel. It appeared to theabbot, that his indisposition might be of that contagious kind which,at that period, ravaged the English Borders, and made some incursionsinto Scotland, where it afterwards worked a fearful progress. Aftersome farther conversation, Sir John de Walton put into the abbot's handthe letter to the young person under his roof, on delivering which toAugustine, the reverend father was charged with a message to theEnglish governor, so bold, that he was afraid to be the bearer of it.It signified, that the youth could not, and would not, at that moment,receive the English knight; but that, if he came back on the morrowafter mass, it was probable he might learn something of what wasrequested.
"This is not an answer," said Sir John de Walton, "to be sent by a boylike this to a person in my charge; and me thinks, Father Abbot, youconsult your own safety but slenderly in delivering such an insolentmessage."
The abbot trembled under the folds of his large coarse habit; and DeWalton, imagining that his discomposure was the consequence of guiltyfear, called upon him to remember the duties which he owed to England,the benefits which he had received from himself, and the probableconsequence of taking part in a pert boy's insolent defiance of thepower of the governor of the province.
The abbot vindicated himself from these charges with the utmostanxiety. He pledged his sacred word, that the inconsiderate characterof the boy's message was owing to the waywardness arising fromindisposition. He reminded the governor that, as a Christian and anEnglishman, he had duties to observe towards the community of SaintBride, which had never given the English government the least subjectof complaint. As he spoke, the churchman seemed to gather courage fromthe immunities of his order. He said he could not permit a sick boy whohad taken refuge within the sanctuary of the Church, to be seized orsubjected to any species of force, unless he was accused of a specificcrime, capable of being immediately proved. The Douglasses, aheadstrong race, had, in former days, uniformly respected the sanctuaryof Saint Bride, and it was not to be supposed that the king of England,the dutiful and obedient child of the Church of Rome, would act withless veneration for her rights, than the followers of a usurper,homicide, and excommunicated person like Robert Bruce.
Walton was considerably shaken with this remonstrance. He knew that, inthe circumstances of the times, the Pope had great power in everycontroversy in which it was his pleasure to interfere. He knew thateven in the dispute respecting the supremacy of Scotland, his Holinesshad set up a claim to the kingdom which, in the temper of the times,might perhaps have been deemed superior both to that of Robert Bruce,and that of Edward of England, and he conceived his monarch would givehim little thanks for any fresh embroilment which might take place withthe Church. Moreover, It was easy to place a watch, so as to preventAugustine from escaping during the night; and on the following morninghe would be still as effectually in the power of the English governoras if he were seized on by open force at the present moment. Sir Johnde Walton, however, so far exerted his authority over the abbot, thathe engaged, in consideration of the sanctuary being respected for thisspace of time, that, when it expired, he would be aiding and assistingwith his spiritual authority to surrender the youth, should he notallege a sufficient reason to the contrary. This arrangement, whichappeared still to flatter the governor with the prospect of an easytermination of this troublesome dispute, induced him to grant the delaywhich Augustine rather demanded than petitioned for.
"At your request, Father Abbot, whom I have hitherto found a true man,I will indulge this youth with the grace he asks, before taking himinto custody, understanding that he shall not be permitted to leavethis place; and thou art to be responsible to this effect, giving thee,as is reasonable, power to command our little, garrison at Hazelside,to which I will send a reinforcement on my return to the Castle, incase it should be necessary to use the strong hand, or circumstancesimpose upon me other measures."
"Worthy Sir Knight," replied the Abbot, "I have no idea that thefrowardness of this youth will render any course necessary, saving thatof persuasion; and I venture to say, that you yourself will in thehighest degree approve of the method in which I shall acquit myself ofmy present trust."
The abbot went through the duties of hospitality, enumerating whatsimple cheer the cloister of the convent permitted him to offer to theEnglish knight. Sir John de Walton declined the offer of refreshment,however--took a courteous leave of the churchman, and did not spare hishorse until the noble animal had brought him again before the Castle ofDouglas. Sir Aymer De Valence met him on the drawbridge, and reportedthe state of the garriso
n to be the same in winch he had left it,excepting that intimation had been received that twelve or fifteen menwere expected on their way to the town of Lanark; and being on marchfrom the neighbourhood of Ayr, would that night take up their quartersat the outpost of Hazelside.
"I am glad of it," replied the governor; "I was about to strengthenthat detachment. This stripling, the son of Bertram the minstrel, orwhoever he is, has engaged to deliver himself up for examination in themorning. As this party of soldiers are followers of your uncle, LordPembroke, may I request you will ride to meet them, and command them toremain at Hazelside until you make farther enquiries about this youth,who has still to clear up the mystery which hangs about him, and replyto a letter which I delivered with my own hand to the Abbot of SaintBride. I have shown too much forbearance in this matter, and I trust toyour looking to the security of this young man, and conveying himhither, with all due care and attention, as being a prisoner of someimportance."
"Certainly, Sir John," answered Sir Aymer; "your orders shall beobeyed, since you have none of greater importance for one who hath thehonour to be second only to yourself in this place."
"I crave your mercy, Sir Aymer," returned the governor, "if thecommission be in any degree beneath your dignity; but it is ourmisfortune to misunderstand each other, when we endeavour to be mostintelligible."
"But what am I to do," said Sir Aymer--"no way disputing your command,but only asking for information--what am I to do, if the Abbot of SaintBride offers opposition?"
"How!" answered Sir John de Walton; "with the reinforcement from. myLord of Pembroke, you will command at least twenty war-men, with bowand spear, against five or six timid old monks, with only gown and,hood."
"True," said Sir Aymer, "but ban and excommunication are sometimes; Inthe present day, too hard for the mail coat, and I would not willinglybe thrown out of the pale of the Christian Church."
"Well, then, thou very suspicious and scrupulous young man," replied DeWalton, "know that if this youth does not deliver himself up to thee ofhis own accord, the abbot has promised to put him into thy hands."
There was no farther answer to be made, and De Valence, though stillthinking himself unnecessarily harassed with the charge of a pettycommission, took the sort of half arms which were always used when theknights stirred, beyond the walls of the garrison, and proceeded toexecute the commands of De Walton. A horseman or two, together with hissquire Fabian, accompanied him.
The evening closed in with one of those Scottish mists which arecommonly said to be equal to the showers of happier climates; the pathbecame more and more dark, the hills more wreathed in vapours, and moredifficult to traverse; and all the little petty inconveniences whichrendered travelling through the district slow and uncertain, wereaugmented by the density of the fog which overhung every thing.
Sir Aymer, therefore, occasionally mended his pace, and often incurredthe fate of one who is over-late, delaying himself by his efforts tomake greater expedition. The knight bethought himself that he would getinto a straight road by passing through the almost deserted town ofDouglas--the inhabitants of which had been treated so severely by theEnglish, in the course of those fierce troubles, that most of them whowere capable of bearing arms had left it, and withdrawn themselves todifferent parts of the country. This almost deserted place was defendedby a rude palisade, and a ruder drawbridge, which gave entrance intostreets so narrow, as to admit with difficulty three horses abreast,and evincing with what strictness the ancient lords of the villageadhered to their prejudice against fortifications, and their opinion infavour of keeping the field, so quaintly expressed in the well-knownproverb of the family,--"It is better to hear the lark sing than themouse cheep." The streets, or rather the lanes, were dark, but for ashifting gleam of moonlight, which, as that planet began to rise, wasnow and then visible upon some steep and narrow gable. No sound ofdomestic industry, or domestic festivity, was heard, and no ray ofcandle or firelight glanced from the windows of the houses; the ancientordinance called the curfew, which the Conqueror had introduced intoEngland, was at this time in full force in such parts of Scotland aswere thought doubtful, and likely to rebel; under which description itneed not be said the ancient possessions of the Douglas were mostespecially regarded. The Church, whose Gothic monuments were of amagnificent character, had been, as far as possible, destroyed by fire;but the ruins, held together by the weight of the massive stones ofwhich they were composed, still sufficiently evinced the greatness ofthe family at whose cost it had been raised, and whose bones, fromimmemorial time, had been entombed in its crypts.
Paying little attention to these relics of departed splendour, SirAymer de Valence advanced with his small detachment, and had passed thescattered fragments of the cemetery of the Douglasses, when to hissurprise, the noise of his horse's feet was seemingly replied to bysounds which rung like those of another knightly steed advancingheavily up the street, as if it were to meet him. Valence was unable toconjecture what might be the cause of these warlike sounds; the ringand the clang of armour was distinct, and the heavy tramp of awar-horse was not to be mistaken by the ear of a warrior. Thedifficulty of keeping soldiers from straying out of quarters by night,would have sufficiently accounted for the appearance of a stragglingfoot-soldier; but it was more difficult to account for a mountedhorseman, in full armour; and such was the apparition which apeculiarly bright glimpse of moonlight now showed at the bottom of thecausewayed hill. Perhaps the unknown warrior obtained at the same timea glance of Aymer de Valence and his armed followers--at least each ofthem shouted "Who goes there?"--the alarm of the times; and on theinstant the deep answers of "St. George!" on the one side, and "TheDouglas!" on the other, awakened the still echoes of the small andruinous street, and the silent arches of the dilapidated church.Astonished at a war-cry with which so many recollections wereconnected, the English knight spurred his horse at full gallop down thesteep and broken descent leading out at the south or south-east gate ofthe town; and it was the work of an instant to call out, "Ho! SaintGeorge! upon the insolent villain all of you!--To the gate, Fabian, andcut him off from flight! --Saint George! I say, for England! Bows andbills!--bows and bills!" At the same time Aymer de Valence laid in resthis own long lance, which he snatched from the squire by whom it wascarried. But the light was seen and gone in an instant, and though DeValence concluded that the hostile warrior had hardly room to avoid hiscareer, yet he could take no aim for the encounter, unless by mereguess, and continued to plunge down the dark declivity, among shatteredstones and other encumbrances, without groping out with his lance theobject of his pursuit. He rode, in short, at a broken gallop, a descentof about fifty or sixty yards, without having any reason to supposethat he had met the figure which had appeared to him, although thenarrowness of the street scarcely admitted his having passed him,unless both horse and horseman could have melted at the moment ofencounter like an air-bubble. The riders of his suite, meanwhile, werestruck with a feeling like supernatural terror, which a number ofsingular adventures, had caused most of them to attach to the name ofDouglas; and when he reached the gate by which the broken street wasterminated, there was none close behind him but Fabian, in whose headno suggestions of a timorous nature could outlive the sound of his dearmaster's voice.
Here there were a post of English, archers, who were turning out inconsiderable alarm, when De Valence and his page rode in amongst them."Villains!" shouted De Valence, "why were you not upon your duty? Whowas it passed through your post even now, with the traitorous cry ofDouglas?"
"We know of no such," said the captain of the watch.
"That is to say, you besotted villains," answered the young knight,"you have been drinking, and have slept?"
The men protested the contrary, but in a confused manner, which was farfrom overcoming De Valence's suspicions. He called loudly to bringcressets, torches, and candles; and a few remaining inhabitants beganto make their unwilling appearance, with such various means of givinglight as they chanced to possess. They heard
the story of the youngEnglish knight with wonder; nor, although it was confirmed by all hisretinue, did they give credit to the recital, more than that theEnglishmen wished somehow or other to pick a quarrel with the people ofthe palace, under the pretence of their having admitted a retainer oftheir ancient lord by night into the town. They protested, therefore,their innocence of the cause of tumult, and endeavoured to seem activein hastening from house to house, and corner to corner, with theirtorches, in order to discover the invisible cavalier. The Englishsuspected them no less of treachery, than the Scottish imagined thewhole matter a pretext for bringing an accusation, on the part of theyoung knight, against the citizens. The women, however, who now beganto issue from the houses, had a key for the solution of the apparition,which at that time was believed of efficacy sufficient to solve anymystery. "The devil," they said, "must have appeared visibly amongstthem," an explanation which had already occurred to the followers ofthe young knight; for that a living man and horse, both as it seemed,of a gigantic size, could be conjured in the twinkling of an eye, andappear in a street secured at one end by the best of the archers, andat the other by the horsemen under Valence himself, was altogether, itseemed, a thing impossible. The inhabitants did not venture to puttheir thoughts on the subject into language, for fear of givingoffence, and only indicated by a passing word to each other the secretdegree of pleasure which they felt in the confusion and embarrassmentof the English garrison. Still, however, they continued to affect agreat deal of interest in the alarm which De Valence had received, andthe anxiety which he expressed to discover the cause.
At length a female voice spoke above the Babel of confused sounds,saying, "Where is the Southern Knight? I am sure that I can tell himwhere he can find the only person who can help him out of his presentdifficulty."
"And who is that, good woman?" said Aymer de Valence, who was growingevery moment more impatient at the loss of time, which was flying fast,in an investigation which had something vexatious in it, and evenridiculous. At the same time, the sight of an armed partisan of theDouglasses, in their own native town, seemed to bode too seriousconsequences, if it should be suffered to pass without being probed tothe bottom.
"Come hither to me," said the female voice, "and I will name to you theonly person who can explain all matters of this kind that chance inthis country." On this the knight snatched a torch from some of thosewho were present, and holding it up, descried the person who spoke, atall woman, who evidently endeavoured to render herself remarkable.When he approached her, she communicated her intelligence in a graveand sententious tone of voice.
"We had once wise men, that could have answered any parables whichmight have been put to them for explanation in this country side.Whether you yourselves, gentlemen, have not had some hand in weedingthem out, good troth, it is not for the like of me to say; at any rate,good counsel is not so easy come by as it was in this Douglas country,nor, may be, is it a safe thing to pretend to the power of giving it."
"Good woman," said De Valence, "if you will give me an explanation ofthis mystery, I will owe you a kirtle of the best raploch grey."
"It is not I," said the old woman, "that pretend to possess theknowledge which may assist you; but I would fain know that the man whomI shall name to you shall be skaithless and harmless. Upon yourknighthood and your honour, will you promise to me so much?"
"Assuredly," said De Valence, "such a person shall even have thanks andreward, if he is a faithful informer; ay, and pardon, moreover,although he may have listened to any dangerous practices, or beenconcerned in any plots."
"Oh! not he," replied the female; "it is old Goodman Powheid, who hasthe charge of the muniments," (meaning probably monuments,) "that is,such part of them as you English have left standing; I mean the oldsexton of the kirk of Douglas, who can tell more stories of these oldfolk, whom your honour is not very fond of hearing named, than wouldlast us from this day to Yule."
"Does anybody," said the knight, "know whom it is that this old womanmeans?"
"I conjecture," replied Fabian, "that she speaks of an old dotard, whois, I think, the general referee concerning the history and antiquitiesof this old town, and of the savage family that lived here perhapsbefore the flood."
"And who, I dare say," said the knight, "knows as much about the matteras she herself does. But where is this man? a sexton is he? He may beacquainted with places of concealment, which are often fabricated inGothic buildings, and known to those whose business calls them tofrequent them. Come, my good old dame, bring this man to me; or, whatmay be better, I will go to him, for we have already spent too muchtime."
"Time!" replied the old woman,--"is time an object with your honour? Iam sure I can hardly get so much for mine as will hold soul and bodytogether. You are not far from the old man's house."
She led the way accordingly, blundering over heaps of rubbish, andencountering all the embarrassments of a ruinous street, in lightingthe way to Sir Aymer, who, giving his horse to one of his attendants,and desiring Fabian to be ready at a call, scrambled after as well asthe slowness of his guide would permit.
Both were soon involved in the remains of the old church, muchdilapidated as it had been by wanton damage done to it by the soldiery,and so much impeded by rubbish, that the knight marvelled how the oldwoman could find the way. She kept talking all the while as shestumbled onward. Sometimes she called out in a screeching tone,"Powheid! Lazarus Powheid!"--and then muttered---"Ay, ay, the old manwill be busy with some of his duties, as he calls them; I wonder hefashes wi' them in these times. But never mind, I warrant they willlast for his day and for mine; and the times, Lord help us! for allthat I can see, are well enough for those that are to live in them."
"Are you sure, good woman," replied the knight, "that there is anyinhabitant in these ruins? For my part, I should rather suppose thatyou are taking me to the charnel-house of the dead."
"Maybe you are right," said the old woman, with a ghastly laugh;"carles and carlines agree weel with funeral vaults and charnel-houses,and when an auld bedral dwells near the dead, he is living, ye ken,among his customers--Halloo! Powheid! Lazarus Powheid! there is agentleman would speak with you;" and she added, with some sort ofemphasis, "an. English noble gentleman---one of the honourablegarrison."
An old man's step was now heard advancing, so slowly that theglimmering light which he held in his hand was visible on the ruinedwalls of the vault some time before it showed the person who bore it.
The shadow of the old man was also projected upon the illuminated wallere his person came in view; his dress was in considerable confusion,owing to his having been roused from his bed; and since artificiallight was forbidden by the regulations of the garrison, the natives ofDouglas Dale spent in sleep the time that they could not very well getrid of by any other means. The sexton was a tall thin man, emaciated byyears and by privations; his body was bent habitually by his occupationof grave-digging, and his eye naturally inclined downward to the sceneof his labours. His hand sustained the cruise or little lamp, which heheld so as to throw light upon his visitant; at the same time itdisplayed to the young knight the features of the person with whom hewas now confronted, which, though neither handsome nor pleasing, werestrongly marked, sagacious, and venerable, indicating, at the sametime, a certain air of dignity, which age, even mere poverty, may befound occasionally to bestow, as conferring that last melancholyspecies of independence proper to those whose situation can hardly byany imaginable means, be rendered much worse than years and fortunehave already made it. The habit of a lay brother added somewhat ofreligious importance to his appearance.
"What would you with me, young man?" said the sexton. "Your youthfulfeatures, and your gay dress, bespeak one who stands in need of myministry neither for himself nor for others."
"I am indeed," replied the knight, "a living man, and therefore neednot either shovel or pick-axe for my own behoof. I am not, as you see,attired in mourning, and therefore need not your offices in behalf ofany friend; I would only a
sk you a few questions."
"What you would have done must needs be done, you being at present oneof our rulers, and, as I think, a man of authority," replied thesexton; "follow me this way into my poor habitation; I have had abetter in my day; and yet, Heaven knows, it is good enough for me, whenmany men of much greater consequence must perforce content themselveswith worse."
He opened a lowly door, which was fitted, though irregularly, to serveas the entrance of a vaulted apartment, where it appeared that the oldman held, apart from the living world, his wretched and solitarydwelling. [Footnote: [This is a most graphic and accurate descriptionof the present state of the ruin. Its being occupied by the sexton as adwelling-place, and the whole scene of the old man's interview with DeValence, may be classed with our illustrious author's most felicitousimaginings._--Note by the Rev. Mr. Stewart of Douglas._]] The floor,composed of paving stones, laid together with some accuracy, and hereand there inscribed with letters and hieroglyphics, as if they had onceupon a time served to distinguish sepulchres, was indifferently wellswept, and a fire at the upper end directed its smoke into a hole whichserved for a chimney. The spade and pick-axe, (with other tools,) whichthe chamberlain of mortality makes use of, lay scattered about theapartment, and, with a rude stool or two, and a table, where someinexperienced hand had unquestionably supplied the labours of thejoiner, were nearly the only furniture, if we include the old man's bedof straw, lying in a corner, and discomposed, as if he had been justraised from it. At the lower end of the apartment, the wall was almostentirely covered by a large escutcheon, such as is usually hung overthe graves of men of very high rank, having the appropriate quarters,to the number of sixteen, each properly blazoned and distinct, placedas ornaments around the principal armorial coat itself.
"Let us sit," said the old man; "the posture will better enable myfailing ears to apprehend your meaning, and the asthma will deal withme more mercifully in permitting me to make you understand mine."
A peal of short asthmatic coughs attested the violence of the disorderwhich he had last named, and the young knight followed his host'sexample, in sitting down on one of the rickety stools by the side ofthe fire. The old man brought from one corner of the apartment anapron, which he occasionally wore, full of broken boards in irregularpieces, some of which were covered with black cloth, or driven full ofnails, black, as it might happen, or gilded.
"You will find this fresh fuel necessary," said the old man, "to keepsome degree of heat within this waste apartment; nor are the vapours ofmortality, with which this vault is apt to be filled, if the fire ispermitted to become extinct, indifferent to the lungs of the dainty andthe healthy, like your worship, though to me they are become habitual.The wood will catch fire, although it is some time ere the damps of thegrave are overcome by the drier air, and the warmth of the chimney."
Accordingly, the relics of mortality with which the old man had heapedhis fireplace, began by degrees to send forth a thick unctuous vapour,which at length leaped to light, and blazing up the aperture, gave adegree of liveliness to the gloomy scene. The blazonry of the hugeescutcheon met and returned the rays with as brilliant a reflection asthat lugubrious object was capable of, and the whole apartment lookedwith a fantastic gaiety, strangely mingled with the gloomy ideas whichits ornaments were calculated to impress upon the imagination.
"You are astonished," said the old man, "and perhaps, Sir Knight, youhave never before seen these relics of the dead applied to the purposeof rendering the living, in some degree, more comfortable than theircondition would otherwise admit of."
"Comfortable!" returned the Knight of Valence, shrugging his shoulders;"I should be sorry, old man, to know that I had a dog that was asindifferently quartered as thou art, whose grey hairs have certainlyseen better days."
"It may be," answered the sexton, "and it may be otherwise; but it wasnot, I presume, concerning my own history that your worship seemeddisposed to ask me some questions; and I would venture to enquire,therefore, to whom they have relation?"
"I will speak plainly to you," replied Sir Aymer, "and you will at onceacknowledge the necessity of giving a short and distinct reply. I haveeven now met in the streets of this village a person only shown to meby a single flash of light, who had the audacity to display thearmorial insignia and utter the war-cry of the Douglasses; nay, if Icould trust a transient glance, this daring cavalier had the featuresand the dark complexion proper to the Douglas. I am referred to thee asto one who possesses means of explaining this extraordinarycircumstance, which, as an English knight, and one holding a chargeunder King Edward, I am particularly called upon to make enquiry into."
"Let me make a distinction," said the old man. "The Douglasses offormer generations are my near neighbours, and, according to mysuperstitious townsmen, my acquaintances and visitors; I can take itupon my conscience to be answerable for their good behaviour, and tobecome bound that none of the old barons, to whom the roots of thatmighty tree may, it is said, be traced, will again disturb with theirwar-cry the towns or villages of their native country--not one willparade in moonshine the black armour which has long rusted upon theirtombs.
'The knights are dust. And their good swords are rust; Their souls are with the saints, we trust.' [Footnote: [The authorhas somewhat altered part of a beautiful unpublished fragment ofColeridge:-- "Where is the grave of Sir Arthur Orellan,-- Where may the grave of that good knight be? By the marge of a brook, on the slope of Helvellyn, Under the boughs of a young birch tree. The Oak that in summer was pleasant to hear, That rustled in Autumn all withered and sear, That whistled and groan'd thro' the Winter alone, He hath gone, and a birch in his place is grown. The knight's bones are dust, His good sword is rust; His spirit is with, the saints, we trust." _Edit_.]]
Look around, Sir Knight, you have above and around you the men of whomwe speak. Beneath us, in a little aisle, (which hath not been openedsince these thin grey locks were thick and brown,) there lies the firstman whom I can name as memorable among those of this mighty line. It ishe whom the Thane of Athol pointed out to the King of Scotland asSholto Dhuglass, or the dark iron-coloured man, whose exertions hadgained the battle for his native prince; and who, according to thislegend, bequeathed his name to our dale and town, though others saythat the race assumed the name of Douglass from the stream so called inunrecorded times, before they had their fastness on its banks. Others,his descendants, called Eachain, or Hector the first, and Orodh, orHugh, William, the first of that name, and Gilmour, the theme of many aminstrel song, commemorating achievements done under the oriflamme ofCharles the Great, Emperor of France, have all consigned themselves totheir last sleep, nor has their memory been sufficiently preserved fromthe waste of time. Something we know concerning their great deeds,their great power, and, alas! their great crimes. Something we alsoknow of a Lord of Douglas who sat in a parliament at Forfar, held byKing Malcolm the First, and we are aware that from his attachment tohunting the wild hart, he built himself a tower called Blackhouse, inthe forest of Ettrick, which perhaps still exists."
"I crave your forgiveness, old man," said the knight, "but I have notime at present to bestow upon the recitation of the pedigree of theHouse of Douglas. A less matter would hold a well-breathed minstrel insubject for recitation for a calendar month, Sundays and holidaysincluded."
"What other information can you expect from me," said the sexton, "thanthat respecting those heroes, some of whom it has been my lot toconsign to that eternal rest, which will for ever divide the dead fromthe duties of this world? I have told you where the race sleep, down tothe reign of the royal Malcolm. I can tell you also of another vault,in which lie Sir John of Douglas-burn, with his son Lord Archibald, anda third William, known by an indenture with Lord Abernethy. Lastly, Ican tell you of him to whom that escutcheon, with its appurtenances ofsplendour and dignity, justly belong. Do you envy that nobleman, whom,if death were in the sound, I would not hesitate to term my h
onourablepatron? and have you any design of dishonouring his remains? It will bea poor victory! nor does it become a knight and nobleman to come inperson to enjoy such a triumph over the dead, against whom, when helived, there were few knights dared spur their horses. He fought indefence of his country, but he had not the good fortune of most of hisancestors, to die on the field of battle. Captivity, sickness, andregret for the misfortunes of his native land, brought his head to thegrave in his prison-house, in the land of the stranger."
The old man's voice here became interrupted by emotion, and the Englishknight found it difficult to continue his examination in the sternfashion which his duty required.
"Old man," he said, "I do not require from thee this detail, which mustbe useless to me, as well as painful to thyself. Thou dost but thy dutyin rendering justice to thy ancient lord; but thou hast not yetexplained to me why I have met in this town, this very night, and nothalf an hour since, a person in the arms, and bearing the complexion,of one of the Black Douglasses, who cried his war-cry as if in contemptof his conquerors."
"Surely," replied the sexton, "it is not my business to explain such afancy, otherwise than by supposing that the natural fears of theSouthron will raise the spectre of a Douglas at any time, when he iswithin sight of their sepulchre. Methinks, in such a night as this, thefairest cavalier would wear the complexion of this swarthy race, norcan I hold it wonderful that the war-cry which was once in the throatsof so many thousands in this country, should issue upon occasion fromthe mouth of a single champion."
"You are bold, old man," returned the English knight; "do you considerthat your life is in my power, and that it may, in certain cases, be myduty to inflict death with that degree of pain at which humanityshudders?"
The old man rose up slowly in the light of the blazing fire, displayinghis emaciated features, which resembled those ascribed by artists toSaint Anthony of the desert; and pointing to the feeble lamp, which heplaced upon the coarse table, thus addressed his interrogator, with anappearance of perfect firmness, and something even resembling dignity:--
"Young knight of England, you see that utensil constructed for thepurpose of dispensing light amid these fatal vaults,--it is as frail asany thing can well be, whose flame is supplied by living element,contained in a frame composed of iron. It is doubtless in your powerentirely to end its service, by destroying the frame, or extinguishingthe light. Threaten it with such annihilation, Sir Knight, and seewhether your menace will impress any sense of fear either on theelement or the iron. Know that you have no more power over the frailmortal whom you threaten with similar annihilation. You may tear frommy body the skin in which it is now swathed, but although my nervesmight glow with agony during the inhuman operation, it would produce nomore impression on me than flaying on the stag which an arrow haspreviously pierced through the heart. My age sets me beyond yourcruelty: if you think otherwise, call your agents, and commence youroperations; neither threats nor inflictions will enable you to extortfrom me any thing that I am not ready to tell you of my own accord."
"You trifle with me, old man," said De Valence; "you talk as if youpossessed some secret respecting the motions of these Douglasses, whoare to you as gods, yet you communicate no intelligence to me whatever."
"You may soon know," replied the old man, "all that a poor sexton hasto communicate; and it will not increase your knowledge respecting theliving, though it may throw some light upon my proper domains, whichare those of the dead. The spirits of the deceased Douglasses do notrest in their graves during the dishonour of their monuments, and thedownfall of their house. That, upon death, the greater part of any lineare consigned to the regions of eternal bliss, or of never-endingmisery, religion will not suffer us to believe, and amidst a race whohad so great a share of worldly triumph and prosperity, we must supposethere have existed many who have been justly subjected to the doom ofan intermediate space of punishment. You have destroyed thetemples--which were built by their posterity to propitiate Heaven forthe welfare of their souls; you have silenced the prayers and stopt thechoirs, by the mediation of which the piety of children had sought toappease the wrath of Heaven in behalf of their ancestors, subjected toexpiatory fires. Can you wonder that the tormented spirits, thusdeprived of the relief which had been proposed to them, should not,according to the common phrase, rest in their graves? Can you wonderthey should show themselves like discontented loiterers near to theplaces which, but for the manner in which you have prosecuted yourremorseless warfare, might have ere now afforded them rest? Or do youmarvel that these fleshless warriors should interrupt your marches, anddo what else their airy nature may permit to disturb your councils, andmeet as far as they may the hostilities which you make it your boast tocarry on, as well against those who are deceased, as against any whomay yet survive your cruelty?"
"Old man," replied Aymer de Valence, "you cannot expect that I am totake for answer a story like this, being a fiction too gross to charmto sleep a schoolboy tormented with the toothache; nevertheless, Ithank God that thy doom does not remain in my hands. My squire and twoarchers shall carry thee captive to the worshipful Sir John de Walton,Governor of the Castle and Valley, that he may deal with thee as seemsmeet; nor is he a person to believe in your apparitions and ghosts frompurgatory.--What ho! Fabian! Come hither, and bring with thee twoarchers of the guard."
Fabian accordingly, who had waited at the entrance of the ruinedbuilding, now found his way, by the light of the old sexton's lamp, andthe sound of his master's voice, into the singular apartment of the oldman, the strange decorations of which struck the youth with greatsurprise, and some horror.
"Take the two archers with thee, Fabian," said the Knight of Valence,"and, with their assistance, convey this old man, on horseback, or in alitter, to the presence of the worshipful Sir John de Walton. Tell himwhat we have seen, which thou didst witness as well as I; and tell himthat this old sexton, whom I send to be examined by his superiorwisdom, seems to know more than he is willing to disclose respectingour ghostly cavalier, though he will give us no account of him, exceptintimating that he is a spirit of the old Douglasses from purgatory, towhich Sir John de Walton will give what faith he pleases. You may say,that, for my part, my belief is, either that the sexton is crazed byage, want, and enthusiasm, or that he is connected with some plot whichthe country people are hatching. You may also say that I shall not usemuch ceremony with the youth under the care of the Abbot of St. Bride;there is something suspicious in all the occurrences that are nowpassing around us."
Fabian promised obedience; and the knight, pulling him aside, gave himan additional caution, to behave with attention in this business,seeing he must recollect that neither the judgment of himself, nor thatof his master, were apparently held in very much esteem by thegovernor; and that it would ill become them to make any mistake in amatter where the safety of the Castle was perhaps concerned.
"Fear me not, worshipful sir," replied the youth; "I am returning topure air in the first place, and a good fire in the second, bothacceptable exchanges for this dungeon of suffocating vapours andexecrable smells. You may trust to my making no delay; a very shorttime will carry me back to Castle Douglas, even moving with suitableattention to this old man's bones."
"Use him humanely," answered the knight. "And thou, old man, if thouart insensible to threats of personal danger in this matter, remember,that if thou art found paltering with us, thy punishment will perhapsbe more severe than any we can inflict upon thy person."
"Can you administer the torture to the soul?" said the sexton.
"As to thee," answered the knight, "we have that power;--we willdissolve every monastery or religious establishment held for the soulsof these Douglasses, and will only allow the religious people to holdtheir residence there upon condition of their praying for the soul ofKing Edward the First of glorious memory, the _malleus Scotorum_; andif the Douglasses are deprived of the ghostly benefit of the prayersand services of such shrines, they may term thy obstinacy the cause."
"Such a species of vengeance," answered the old man, in the same boldunsubdued tone which he had hitherto used, "were more worthy of theinfernal fiends than of Christian men."
The squire raised his hand. The knight interposed: "Forbear him," hesaid, "Fabian, he is very old, and perhaps insane.--And you, sexton,remember that the vengeance threatened is lawfully directed towards afamily which have been the obstinate supporters of the excommunicatedrebel, who murdered the Red Comyn at the High Church in Dumfries."
So saying, Aymer strode out of the ruins, picking his way with muchdifficulty--took his horse, which he found at the entrance--repeated acaution to Fabian, to conduct himself with prudence--and, passing on tothe south-western gate, gave the strongest injunctions concerning thenecessity of keeping a vigilant watch, both by patrols and bysentinels, intimating, at the same time, that it must have beenneglected during the preceding part of the evening. The men murmured anapology, the confusion of which seemed to express that there hadexisted some occasion for the reprimand.
Sir Aymer then proceeded on his journey to Hazelside, his traindiminished by the absence of Fabian and his assistants. After a hasty,but not a short journey, the knight alighted at Thomas Dickson's, wherehe found the detachment from Ayr had arrived before him, and weresnugly housed for the night. He sent one of the archers to announce hisapproach to the Abbot of Saint Bride and his young guest, intimating atthe same time, that the archer must keep sight of the latter until hehimself arrived at the chapel, which would be instantly.
