Waverley Novels — Volume 12

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH.

  The doors of the stronghold being undone, displayed a dungeon such asin those days held victims hopeless of escape, but in which theingenious knave of modern times would scarcely have deigned to remainmany hours. The huge rings by which the fetters were soldered together,and attached to the human body, were, when examined minutely, found tobe clenched together by riveting so very thin, that when rubbed withcorrosive acid, or patiently ground with a bit of sandstone, the holdof the fetters upon each other might easily be forced asunder, and thepurpose of them entirely frustrated. The locks also, large, andapparently very strong, were so coarsely made, that an artist of smallingenuity could easily contrive to get the better of their fasteningsupon the same principle. The daylight found its way to the subterraneandungeon only at noon, and through a passage which was purposely madetortuous, so as to exclude the rays of the sun, while it presented noobstacle to wind or rain. The doctrine that a prisoner was to beesteemed innocent until he should be found guilty by his peers, was notunderstood in those days of brute force, and he was only accommodatedwith a lamp or other alleviation of his misery, if his demeanour wasquiet, and he appeared disposed to give his jailor no trouble byattempting to make his escape. Such a cell of confinement was that ofBertram, whose moderation of temper and patience had neverthelessprocured for him such mitigations of his fate as the warder couldgrant. He was permitted to carry into his cell the old book, in theperusal of which he found an amusement of his solitude, together withwriting materials, and such other helps towards spending his time aswere consistent with his abode in the bosom of the rock, and the degreeof information with which his minstrel craft had possessed him. Heraised his head from the table as the knights entered, while thegovernor observed to the young knight:--

  "As you seem to think yourself possessed of the secret of thisprisoner, I leave it to you, Sir Aymer de Valence, to bring it to lightin the manner which you shall judge most expedient. If the man or hisson have suffered unnecessary hardship, it shall be my duty to makeamends--which, I suppose, can be no very important matter."

  Bertram looked up, and fixed his eyes full upon the governor, but readnothing in his looks which indicated his being better acquainted thanbefore with the secret of his imprisonment. Yet, upon turning his eyetowards Sir Aymer, his countenance evidently lighted up, and the glancewhich passed between them was one of intelligence.

  "You have my secret, then," said he, "and you know who it is thatpasses under the name of Augustine?"

  Sir Aymer exchanged with him a look of acquiescence; while the eyes ofthe governor glancing wildly from the prisoner to the knight ofValence, exclaimed,--

  "Sir Aymer de Valence, as you are belted knight and Christian man, asyou have honour to preserve on earth, and a soul to rescue after death,I charge you to tell me the meaning of this mystery! It may be that youconceive, with truth, that you have subject of complaint againstme;--If so, I will satisfy you as a knight may."

  The minstrel spoke at the same moment.

  "I charge this knight," he said, "by his vow of chivalry, that he donot divulge any secret belonging to a person of honour and ofcharacter, unless he has positive assurance that it is done entirely bythat person's own consent."

  "Let this note remove your scruples," said Sir Aymer, putting thescroll into the hands of the minstrel; "and for you, Sir John deWalton, far from retaining the least feeling of any misunderstandingwhich may have existed between us, I am disposed entirely to bury it inforgetfulness, as having arisen out of a series of mistakes which nomortal could have comprehended. And do not be offended, my dear SirJohn, when I protest, on my knightly faith, that I pity the pain whichI think this scroll is likely to give you, and that if my utmostefforts can be of the least service to you in unravelling this tangledskein, I will contribute them with as much earnestness as ever I didaught in my life. This faithful minstrel will now see that he can haveno difficulty in yielding up a secret, which I doubt not, but for thewriting I have just put into his hands, he would have continued to keepwith unshaken fidelity."

  Sir Aymer now placed in De Walton's hand a note, in which he had, erehe left Saint Bride's convent, signified his own interpretation, of themystery; and the governor had scarcely read the name it contained,before the same name was pronounced aloud by Bertram, who, at the samemoment, handed to the governor the scroll which he had received fromthe Knight of Valence.

  The white plume which floated over the knight's cap of maintenance,which was worn as a headpiece within doors, was not more pale incomplexion than was the knight himself at the unexpected and surprisinginformation, that the lady who was, in chivalrous phrase, empress ofhia thoughts, and commander of his actions, and to whom, even in lessfantastic times, he must have owed the deepest gratitude for thegenerous election which she had made in his favour, was the same personwhom he had threatened with personal violence, and subjected tohardships and affronts which he would not willingly have bestowed evenupon the meanest of her sex.

  Yet Sir John de Walton seemed at first scarcely to comprehend thenumerous ill consequences which might probably follow this unhappycomplication of mistakes. He took the paper from the minstrel's hand,and while his eye, assisted by the lamp, wandered over the characterswithout apparently their conveying any distinct impression to hisunderstanding, De Valence even became alarmed that he was about to losehis faculties.

  "For Heaven's sake, sir," he said, "be a man, and support with manlysteadiness these unexpected occurrences--I would fain think they willreach to nothing else--which the wit of man could not have prevented.This fair lady, I would fain hope, cannot be much hurt or deeplyoffended by a train of circumstances, the natural consequence of youranxiety to discharge perfectly a duty upon which must depend theaccomplishment of all the hopes she had permitted you to entertain. InGod's name, rouse up, sir; let it not be said, that an apprehendedfrown of a fair lady hath damped to such a degree the courage of theboldest knight in England; be what men have called you, 'Walton theUnwavering;' in Heaven's name, let us at least see that the lady isindeed offended, before we conclude that she is irreconcilably so. Towhose fault are we to ascribe the source of all these errors? Surely,with all due respect, to the caprice of the lady herself, which hasengendered such a nest of mistakes. Think of it as a man, and as asoldier. Suppose that you yourself, or I, desirous of proving thefidelity of our sentinels, or for any other reason, good or bad,attempted to enter this Dangerous Castle of Douglas without giving thepassword to the warders, would we be entitled to blame those upon duty,if, not knowing our persons, they manfully refused us entrance, made usprisoners, and mishandled us while resisting our attempt, in terms ofthe orders which we ourselves had imposed upon them? What is there thatmakes a difference between such a sentinel and yourself, John deWalton, in this curious affair, which, by Heaven! would rather form agay subject for the minstrelsy of this excellent bard, than the themeof a tragic lay? Come! look not thus, Sir John de Walton; be angry, ifyou will, with the lady who has committed such a piece of folly, orwith me who have rode up and down nearly all night on a fool's errand,and spoiled my best horse, in absolute uncertainty how I shall getanother till my uncle of Pembroke and I shall be reconciled; or,lastly, if you desire to be totally absurd in your wrath, direct itagainst this worthy minstrel on account of his rare fidelity, andpunish him for that for which he better deserves a chain of gold. Letpassion out, if you will; but chase this desponding gloom from the browof a man and a belted knight."

  Sir John de Walton made an effort to speak, and succeeded with somedifficulty.

  "Aymer de Valence," he said, "in irritating a madman you do but sportwith your own life;" and then remained silent.

  "I am glad you can say so much," replied his friend; "for I was notjesting when I said I would rather that you were at variance with me,than that you laid the whole blame on yourself. It would be courteous,I think, to set this minstrel instantly at liberty. Meantime, for hislady's sake, I will entreat him, in all honour, to be our guest til
lthe Lady Augusta de Berkely shall do us the same honour, and to assistus in our search after her place of retirement.--Good minstrel," hecontinued, "you hear what I say, and you will not, I suppose, besurprised, that in all honour and kind usage, you find yourselfdetained for a short space in this Castle of Douglas?"

  "You seem, Sir Knight," replied the minstrel, "not so much to keep youreye upon the right of doing what you should, as to possess the might ofdoing what you would. I must necessarily be guided by your advice,since you have the power to make it a command."

  "And I trust," continued De Valence, "that when your mistress and youagain meet, we shall have the benefit of your intercession for anything which we may have done to displeasure her, considering that thepurpose of our action was exactly the reverse."

  "Let me," said Sir John de Walton, "say a single word. I will offerthee a chain of gold, heavy enough to bear down the weight of theseshackles, as a sign of regret for having condemned thee to suffer somany indignities."

  "Enough said, Sir John," said De Valence; "let us promise no more tillthis good minstrel shall see some sign of performance. Follow me thisway, and I will tell thee in private of other tidings, which it isimportant that you should know."

  So saying, he withdrew De Walton from the dungeon, and sending for theold knight, Sir Philip de Montenay, already mentioned, who acted asseneschal of the castle, he commanded that the minstrel should beenlarged from the dungeon, well looked to in other respects, yetprohibited, though with every mark of civility, from leaving the castlewithout a trusty attendant.

  "And now, Sir John de Walton," he said, "methinks you are a littlechurlish in not ordering me some breakfast, after I have been all nightengaged in your affairs; and a cup of muscadel would, I think, be nobad induction to a full consideration of this perplexed matter."

  "Thou knowest," answered De Walton, "that thou mayest call for whatthou wilt, provided always thou tellest me, without loss of time, whatelse thou knowest respecting the will of the lady, against whom we haveall sinned so grievously--and I, alas, beyond hope of forgiveness!"

  "Trust me, I hope," said the Knight of Valence, "the good lady bears meno malice, as indeed she has expressly renounced any ill-will againstme. The words, you see, are as plain as you yourself may read--'Thelady pardons poor Aymer de Valence, and willingly, for having beeninvolved in a mistake, to which she herself led the way; she herselfwill at all times be happy to meet with him as an acquaintance, andnever to think farther of these few days' history, except as matter ofmirth and ridicule.' So it is expressly written and set down."

  "Yes," replied Sir John de Walton, "but see you not that her offendinglover is expressly excluded from the amnesty granted to the lesseroffender? Mark you not the concluding paragraph?" He took the scrollwith a trembling hand, and read with a discomposed voice its closingwords. "It is even so: 'All former connexion must henceforth be at anend between him and the supposed Augustine.' Explain to me how thereading of these words is reconcilable to anything but their plainsense of condemnation and forfeiture of contract, implying destructionof the hopes of Sir John de Walton?"

  "You are somewhat an older man than I, Sir Knight," answered DeValence, "and I will grant, by far the wiser and more experienced; yetI will uphold that there is no adopting the interpretation which youseem to have affixed in your mind to this letter, without supposing thepreliminary, that the fair writer was distracted in her understanding,--nay, never start, look wildly, or lay your hand on your sword, I donot affirm this is the case. I say again, that no woman in her senseswould have pardoned a common acquaintance for his behaving to her withunintentional disrespect and unkindness, during the currency of acertain masquerade, and, at the same time, sternly and irrevocablybroke off with the lover to whom her troth was plighted, although hiserror in joining in the offence was neither grosser nor more protractedthan that of the person indifferent to her love."

  "Do not blaspheme," said Sir John do Walton; "and forgive me, if, injustice to truth and to the angel whom I fear I have forfeited forever, I point out to you the difference which a maiden of dignity andof feeling must make between an offence towards her, committed by anordinary acquaintance, and one of precisely the same kind offered by aperson who is bound by the most undeserved preference, by the mostgenerous benefits, and by every thing which can bind human feeling, tothink and reflect ere he becomes an actor in any case in which it ispossible for her to be concerned."

  "Now, by mine honour," said Aymer de Valence, "I am glad to hear theemake some attempt at reason, although it is but an unreasonable kind ofreason too, since its object is to destroy thine own hopes, and argueaway thine own chance of happiness; but if I have, in the progress ofthis affair, borne me sometimes towards thee, as to give not only thegovernor, but even the friend, some cause of displeasure, I will makeit up to thee now, John de Walton, by trying to convince thee in spiteof thine own perverse logic. But here comes the muscadel and thebreakfast; wilt thou take some refreshment;--or shall we go on withoutthe spirit of muscadel?"

  "For Heaven's sake," replied De Walton, "do as thou wilt, so thou makeme clear of thy well-intended babble."

  "Nay, thou shalt not brawl me out of my powers of argument," said DeValence, laughing, and helping himself to a brimming cup of wine; "ifthou acknowledgest thyself conquered, I am contented to give thevictory to the inspiring strength of the jovial liquor."

  "Do as thou listest," said De Walton, "but make an end of an argumentwhich thou canst not comprehend."

  "I deny the charge," answered the younger knight, wiping his lips,after having finished his draught; "and listen, Walton the Warlike, toa chapter in the history of woman, in which thou art more unskilledthan I would wish thee to be. Thou canst not deny that, be it right orwrong, the lady Augusta hath ventured more forward with you than isusual upon the sea of affection; she boldly made thee her choice, whilethou wert as yet known to her only as a flower of Englishchivalry,--faith, and I respect her for her frankness--but it was achoice, which the more cold of her own sex might perhaps claim occasionto term rash and precipitate.--Nay, be not, I pray thee, offended--I amfar from thinking or saying so; on the contrary, I will uphold with mylance, her selection of John de Walton against the minions of a court,to be a wise and generous choice, and her own behaviour as alike candidand noble. But she herself is not unlikely to dread unjustmisconstruction; a fear of which may not improbably induce her, uponany occasion, to seize some opportunity of showing an unwonted andunusual rigour towards her lover, in order to balance her havingextended towards him, in the beginning of their intercourse, somewhatof an unusual degree of frank encouragement. Nay, it might be easy forher lover so far to take part against himself, by arguing as thou dost,when out of thy senses, as to make it difficult for her to withdrawfrom an argument which he himself was foolish enough to strengthen; andthus, like a maiden too soon taken at her first nay-say, she shallperhaps be allowed no opportunity of bearing herself according to herreal feelings, or retracting a sentence issued with consent of theparty whose hopes it destroys."

  "I have heard thee, De Valence," answered the governor of Douglas Dale;"nor is it difficult for me to admit, that these thy lessons may serveas a chart to many a female heart, but not to that of Augusta deBerkely. By my life, I say I would much sooner be deprived of the meritof those few deeds of chivalry which thou sayest have procured for mesuch enviable distinction, than I would act upon them with theinsolence, as if I said that my place in the lady's bosom was toofirmly fixed to be shaken even by the success of a worthier man, or bymy own gross failure in respect to the object of my attachment. No,herself alone shall have power to persuade me that even goodness equalto that of an interceding saint will restore me to the place in heraffections which I have most unworthily forfeited, by a stupidity onlyto be compared to that of brutes."

  "If you are so minded," said Aymer De Valence, "I have only one wordmore--forgive me if I speak it peremptorily--the lady, as you say, andsay truly, must be the final arbitress in this question. My
argumentsdo not extend to insisting that you should claim her hand, whether sheherself will or no; but, to learn her determination, it is necessarythat you should find out where she is, of which I am unfortunately notable to inform you."

  "How! what mean you!" exclaimed the governor, who now only began tocomprehend the extent of his misfortune; "whither hath she fled? orwith whom?"

  "She is fled, for what I know," said De Valence, "in search of a moreenterprising lover than one who is so willing to interpret every air offrost as a killing blight to his hopes; perhaps she seeks the BlackDouglas, or some such hero of the Thistle, to reward with her lands,her lordships, and beauty, those virtues of enterprise and courage, ofwhich John de Walton was at one time thought possessed. But, seriously,events are passing around us of strange import. I saw enough lastnight, on my way to Saint Bride's, to make me suspicious of every one.I sent to you as a prisoner the old sexton of the church of Douglas. Ifound him contumacious as to some enquiries which I thought it properto prosecute; but of this more at another time. The escape of this ladyadds greatly to the difficulties which encircle this devoted castle."

  "Aymer de Valence," replied De Walton, in a solemn and animated tone,"Douglas Castle shall be defended, as we have hitherto been able, withthe aid of heaven, to spread from its battlements the broad banner ofSt. George. Come of me what lists during my life, I will die thefaithful lover of Augusta de Berkely, even although I no longer live asher chosen knight. There are cloisters and hermitages"--

  "Ay, marry are there," replied Sir Aymer; "and girdles of hemp,moreover, and beads of oak; but all these we omit in our reckonings,till we discover where the Lady Augusta is, and what she purposes to doin this matter."

  "You say well," replied De Walton; "let us hold counsel together bywhat means we shall, if possible, discover the lady's too hastyretreat, by which she has done me great wrong; I mean, if she supposedher commands would not have been fully obeyed, had she honoured withthem the governor of Douglas Dale, or any who are under his command."

  "Now," replied De Valence, "you again speak like a true son ofchivalry. With your permission I would summon this minstrel to ourpresence. His fidelity to his mistress has been remarkable; and, asmatters stand now, we must take instant measures for tracing the placeof her retreat."