by Walter Scott
CHAPTER LXIX
A darker departure is near, The death drum is muffled, and sable the bier
CAMPBELL
After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley onthe esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle. Buthe paced it long in every direction before the hour when, according tothe rules of the garrison, the gates were opened and the draw-bridgelowered. He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard and wasadmitted.
The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment inthe central part of the Castle; a huge old tower, supposed to be ofgreat antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII'stime, or somewhat later. The grating of the large old-fashioned barsand bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answeredby the clash of chains, as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly andheavily fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison to flinghimself into his friend's arms.
'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm and even cheerful voice,'this istruly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with the highestpleasure. And how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend theBaron? Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom. And how will yousettle precedence between the three ermines passant and the bear andboot-jack?'
'How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such amoment!'
'Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure; onthe 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in side byside, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am noboy, to sit down and weep because the luck has gone against me. I knewthe stake which I risked; we played the game boldly and the forfeitshall be paid manfully. And now, since my time is short, let me come tothe questions that interest me most--the Prince? has he escaped thebloodhounds?'
'He has, and is in safety.'
'Praised be God for that! Tell me the particulars of his escape.'
Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so far as it had thentranspired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest. He then askedafter several other friends; and made many minute inquiries concerningthe fate of his own clansmen. They had suffered less than other tribeswho had been engaged in the affair; for, having in a great measuredispersed and returned home after the captivity of their Chieftain,according to the universal custom of the Highlanders, they were not inarms when the insurrection was finally suppressed, and consequentlywere treated with less rigour. This Fergus heard with greatsatisfaction.
'You are rich,' he said, 'Waverley, and you are generous. When you hearof these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about their miserablepossessions by some harsh overseer or agent of government, remember youhave worn their tartan and are an adopted son of their race, The Baron,who knows our manners and lives near our country, will apprise you ofthe time and means to be their protector. Will you promise this to thelast Vich Ian Vohr?'
Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which he afterwardsso amply redeemed that his memory still lives in these glens by thename of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.
'Would to God,' continued the Chieftain, 'I could bequeath to you myrights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave race; orat least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of hislife upon their terms, and be to you what he has been to me, thekindest, the bravest, the most devoted--'
The tears which his own fate could not draw forth fell fast for that ofhis foster-brother.
'But,' said he, drying them,'that cannot be. You cannot be to them VichIan Vohr; and these three magic words,' said he, half smiling, 'are theonly Open Sesame to their feelings and sympathies, and poor Evan mustattend his foster-brother in death, as he has done through his wholelife.'
'And I am sure,' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor, onwhich, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lain sostill that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward was not aware ofhis presence--'I am sure Evan never desired or deserved a better endthan just to die with his Chieftain.'
'And now,' said Fergus, 'while we are upon the subject ofclanship--what think you now of the prediction of the Bodach Glas?'Then, before Edward could answer, 'I saw him again last night: he stoodin the slip of moonshine which fell from that high and narrow windowtowards my bed. "Why should I fear him?" I thought; "to-morrow, longere this time, I shall be as immaterial as he." "False spirit," I said,"art thou come to close thy walks on earth and to enjoy thy triumph inthe fall of the last descendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed tobeckon and to smile as he faded from my sight. What do you think of it?I asked the same question of the priest, who is a good and sensibleman; he admitted that the church allowed that such apparitions werepossible, but urged me not to permit my mind to dwell upon it, asimagination plays us such strange tricks. What do you think of it?'
'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute uponsuch a point at such a moment. A tap at the door now announced thatgood man, and Edward retired while he administered to both prisonersthe last rites of religion, in the mode which the Church of Romeprescribes.
In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file of soldiersentered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from the legs of theprisoners.
'You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and courage;we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legs are crampedinto palsy, and when they free us they send six soldiers with loadedmuskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm!'
Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had been takenin consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners to escape, inwhich they had very nearly succeeded.
Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms. 'This is thelast turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey. And now, mydear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora--a subject whichawakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills within me'
'We part not here!' said Waverley.
'O yes, we do; you must come no farther. Not that I fear what is tofollow for myself,' he said proudly. 'Nature has her tortures as wellas art, and how happy should we think the man who escapes from thethroes of a mortal and painful disorder in the space of a short halfhour? And this matter, spin it out as they will, cannot last longer.But what a dying man can suffer firmly may kill a living friend to lookupon. This same law of high treason,' he continued, with astonishingfirmness and composure, 'is one of the blessings, Edward, with whichyour free country has accommodated poor old Scotland; her ownjurisprudence, as I have heard, was much milder. But I suppose one dayor other--when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to benefit byits tender mercies--they will blot it from their records as levellingthem with a nation of cannibals. The mummery, too, of exposing thesenseless head--they have not the wit to grace mine with a papercoronet; there would be some satire in that, Edward. I hope they willset it on the Scotch gate though, that I may look, even after death, tothe blue hills of my own country, which I love so dearly. The Baronwould have added,
Moritur, et moriens dukes reminiscitur Argos.'
A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard inthe court-yard of the Castle. 'As I have told you why you must notfollow me, and these sounds admonish me that my time flies fast, tellme how you found poor Flora.'
Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations, gave someaccount of the state of her mind.
'Poor Flora!' answered the Chief, 'she could have borne her ownsentence of death, but not mine. You, Waverley, will soon know thehappiness of mutual affection in the married state--long, long may Roseand you enjoy it!--but you can never know the purity of feeling whichcombines two orphans like Flora and me, left alone as it were in theworld, and being all in all to each other from our very infancy. Buther strong sense of duty and predominant feeling of loyalty will givenew nerve to her mind after the immediate and acute sensation of thisparting has passed away. She will then think of Fergus as of the heroesof our race, u
pon whose deeds she loved to dwell.'
'Shall she not see you then?' asked Waverley. 'She seemed to expect it.'
'A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting. I couldnot part with her without tears, and I cannot bear that these menshould think they have power to extort them. She was made to believeshe would see me at a later hour, and this letter, which my confessorwill deliver, will apprise her that all is over.'
An officer now appeared and intimated that the High Sheriff and hisattendants waited before the gate of the Castle to claim the bodies ofFergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich. 'I come,' said Fergus.Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm and followed by Evan Dhu andthe priest, he moved down the stairs of the tower, the soldiersbringing up the rear. The court was occupied by a squadron of dragoonsand a battalion of infantry, drawn up in hollow square. Within theirranks was the sledge or hurdle on which the prisoners were to be drawnto the place of execution, about a mile distant from Carlisle. It waspainted black, and drawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehiclesat the executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade,with the broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse, wasan empty seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark Gothic archwaythat opened on the drawbridge were seen on horseback the High Sheriffand his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt the civil and militarypowers did not permit to come farther. 'This is well GOT UP for aclosing scene,' said Fergus, smiling disdainfully as he gazed aroundupon the apparatus of terror. Evan Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness,after looking at the dragoons,' These are the very chields thatgalloped off at Gladsmuir, before we could kill a dozen o' them. Theylook bold enough now, however.' The priest entreated him to be silent.
The sledge now approached, and Fergus, turning round, embracedWaverley, kissed him on each side of the face, and stepped nimbly intohis place. Evan sat down by his side. The priest was to follow in acarriage belonging to his patron, the Catholic gentleman at whose houseFlora resided. As Fergus waved his hand to Edward the ranks closedaround the sledge, and the whole procession began to move forward.There was a momentary stop at the gateway, while the governor of theCastle and the High Sheriff went through a short ceremony, the militaryofficer there delivering over the persons of the criminals to the civilpower. 'God save King George!' said the High Sheriff. When theformality concluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and, with a firmand steady voice, replied,' God save King JAMES!' These were the lastwords which Waverley heard him speak.
The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from beneaththe portal, under which it had stopped for an instant. The dead marchwas then heard, and its melancholy sounds were mingled with those of amuffled peal tolled from the neighbouring cathedral. The sound ofmilitary music died away as the procession moved on; the sullen clangof the bells was soon heard to sound alone.
The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the vaultedarchway through which they had been filing for several minutes; thecourt-yard was now totally empty, but Waverley still stood there as ifstupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass where he had so latelyseen the last glimpse of his friend. At length a female servant of thegovernor's, struck with compassion, at the stupefied misery which hiscountenance expressed, asked him if he would not walk into her master'shouse and sit down? She was obliged to repeat her question twice ere hecomprehended her, but at length it recalled him to himself. Decliningthe courtesy by a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and,leaving the Castle, walked as swiftly as he could through the emptystreets till he regained his inn, then rushed into an apartment andbolted the door.
In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterablesuspense, the sound of the drums and fifes performing a lively air, andthe confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the streets, solately deserted, apprised him that all was finished, and that themilitary and populace were returning from the dreadful scene. I willnot attempt to describe his sensations.
In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that hedid so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him that FergusMac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered his friendship to thelast. He added, he had also seen Flora, whose state of mind seemed morecomposed since all was over. With her and sister Theresa the priestproposed next day to leave Carlisle for the nearest seaport from whichthey could embark for France. Waverley forced on this good man a ringof some value and a sum of money to be employed (as he thought mightgratify Flora) in the services of the Catholic church for the memory ofhis friend. 'Fun-garque inani munere,' he repeated, as the ecclesiasticretired. 'Yet why not class these acts of remembrance with otherhonours, with which affection in all sects pursues the memory of thedead?'
The next morning ere daylight he took leave of the town of Carlisle,promising to himself never again to enter its walls. He dared hardlylook back towards the Gothic battlements of the fortified gate underwhich he passed, for the place is surrounded with an old wall. 'They'reno there,' said Alick Polwarth, who guessed the cause of the dubiouslook which Waverley cast backward, and who, with the vulgar appetitefor the horrible, was master of each detail of the butchery--'the headsare ower the Scotch yate, as they ca' it. It's a great pity of EvanDhu, who was a very weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman;and indeed so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter, whenhe wasna in ane o' his tirrivies.'
