The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 1 (of 3)

by James Hogg

  CHAPTER IX.

  His doublet was sae trim and neat, Wi' reid goud to the chin, Ye wad hae sworn, had ye been there, That a maiden stood within. The tears they trickled to his chin, And fell down on his knee; O had he wist before he kissed, That the boy was a fair ladye.

  _Song of May Marley._

  Who's she, this dame that comes in such a guise, Such lace of import, and unwonted speech? Tell me, Cornaro. For methinks I see Some traits of hell about her.

  _Trag. of The Prioress._

  In this perilous situation were placed the two most beautiful ladies ofEngland and Scotland, at the close of that memorable year; and in thissituation stood the two chiefs with relation to those they valueddearest in life; the one quite unconscious of the misery that awaitedhim, but the other prepared to stand the severest of trials. Success hadfor some time past made a show of favouring the Scots, but she had notyet declared herself, and matters with them soon began to look worse. Asa commencement of their misfortunes, on that very night the battle tookplace, the English received a supply of thirty horse-loads ofprovisions, with assurances that Sir Thomas Musgrave, the governor ofBerwick, was setting out with a strong army to their succour.

  The supply was received in this way. There was a bridge over the Teviot,which communicated only with the castle, the north end of it beingwithin the draw-bridge, and that bridge the English kept possession ofall the time of the siege. It being of no avail to the Scots, theycontented themselves by keeping a guard at the convent of Maisondieu, toprevent any communication between the fortress and the Border. But theEnglish barons to the eastward, whose castles lay contiguous to theTweed, taking advantage of the great flood, came with a strong body ofmen, and attacking this post by surprise, they beat them, and, chasingthem a considerable way up the river, got the convoy along the bridgeinto the castle.

  This temporary relief raised the spirits of the English, or rathercheered their prospects, for higher in inveterate opposition theirspirits could not be raised. On the day following, likewise, a flyingparty of Sir Thomas Musgrave's horse made their appearance on the heightabove Hume castle, and blew their horns, and tossed their banners abroadon the wind, that the besieged might see them, and understand that theirfriends were astir to make a diversion in their favour.

  On the same day a new gibbet was erected on the top of the Bush-law,with a shifting wooden battery, to protect the executioners; and allwithin the castle feared that the stern and unyielding Douglas was goingto put his threat respecting the life of Sir Richard Musgrave intoexecution. Therefore, to prevent their captain from seeing the scene,and, if possible, his mind from recurring to it, they contrived to get acouncil of war called, at which they intentionally argued and contendedabout matters of importance, in order to detain him until the sufferingsof his brother were past.

  The Bush-law, on which the Scots had a strong fortification, risesabruptly over against the western tower of the castle of Roxburgh; theywere separated only by the moat, and, though at a great height, were sonear each other, that men could with ease converse across, and seedistinctly what was done. On the top of this battery was the new gibbeterected, the more to gall the English by witnessing the death of theirfriends.

  At noon, the Scots, to the number of two hundred, came in procession upfrom the city, with their prisoner dressed in his knightly robes; and,as they went by, they flouted the English that looked on from thewalls,--but the latter answered them not, either good or bad. By acircular rout to the westward they reached the height, where theyexposed the prisoner to the view of the garrison on a semicircularplatform, for a few minutes, until a herald made proclamation, thatunless the keys of the castle were instantly delivered at thedraw-bridge, the life of the noble prisoner was forfeited, and thesentence would momently be put in execution; and then he concluded bycalling, in a louder voice, "Answer, Yes or no--once--twice." He pausedfor the space of twenty seconds, and then repeated slowly, andapparently with reluctance, "Once--twice--_thrice_,"--and the platformfolding down, the victim was launched into eternity.

  The English returned no answer to the herald, as no command or order hadbeen given. In moody silence they stood till they witnessed the fatalcatastrophe, and then a loud groan, or rather growl of abhorrence andvengeance, burst from the troops on the wall, which was answered by theexulting shouts of the Scots. At that fatal moment Musgrave stepped onthe battlement, to witness the last dying throes of his loved brother.By some casualty, the day of the week and month happening to bementioned in the council hall, in the midst of his confused andabstracted ideas, that brought to his remembrance the fate with whichhis brother had been threatened. Still he had hopes that it would havebeen postponed; for, as a drowning man will catch violently at floatingstubble, so had he trusted to the page's mediation. He had examined thestripling on his return to the dungeon, but the imp proved froward andincommunicative, attaching to himself an importance of which the captaincould not perceive the propriety; yet, though he had nothing to dependon the tender mercies of Douglas, as indeed he had no right, henevertheless trusted to his policy for the saving of his brother alive;knowing that, in his life, he held a bond round his heart which it wasnot his interest to snap.

  As he left the hall of council, which was in the great western tower,and in the immediate vicinity of the scene then transacting, the murmursof the one host and the shouts of the other drew him to the battlement,whence his eye momently embraced the heart-rending cause of the tumult.He started, and contracted every muscle of his whole frame, shrinkingdownward, and looking madly on each hand of him. He seemed in act tomake a spring over the wall; and the soldiers around him perceivingthis, and haply misjudging the intent of his motion, seized on him torestrain him by main force. But scarcely did he seem to feel that he washeld; he stretched out his hands toward his brother, and uttered a loudcry of furious despair, and then in a softer tone cried, "Oh! mybrother! my brother!--So you would not warn me, you dog?--Nor you?--Noryou?--No, you are all combined against me. That was a sight to gratifyyou, was it not? My curse on you, and all that have combined against thelife of that matchless youth!" and with that he struggled to shake themfrom him. "My lord! my lord!" was all that the soldiers uttered, as theyrestrained him.

  At that instant Clavering rushed on the battlement. "Unhand thecaptain!" cried he: "Dare you, for the lives that are not your own,presume to lay violent restraint on him, and that in the full view ofyour enemies?"

  "I will have vengeance, Clavering!" cried Musgrave,--"ample anduncontrolled vengeance! Where is the deceitful and impertinent striplingthat promised so solemnly to gain a reprieve for my brother, andproffered the forfeit of his life if he failed?"

  "In the dungeon, my lord, fast and secure."

  "He is a favourite parasite of the Douglas; bring him forth that I maysee vengeance executed on him the first of them all. I will hang everyScot in our custody; but go and bring him the first. It is a basedeceitful cub, and shall dangle opposite to that noble and now lifelessform. It is a poor revenge indeed,--but I will sacrifice every Scot ofthem. Why don't you go and bring the gilded moth, you kennel knaves?Know you to whom you thus scruple obedience?"

  Clavering was silent, and the soldiers durst not disobey, though theyobeyed with reluctance, knowing the advantages that the Scots possessedover them, both in the numbers and rank of their prisoners. They wentinto the vaults, and, without ceremony or intimation of their intent,lifted the gaudy page in their arms, and carried him to the battlementof the western tower, from whence, sans farther ceremony, he wassuspended from a beam's end.

  Douglas could not believe the testimony of his own senses when he sawwhat had occurred. Till that moment he never knew that his page was aprisoner. Indeed, how could he conceive he was, when he had seen him inhis tent the day after the night engagement? His grief was of a cuttingand sharp kind, but went not to the heart; for though the boy hadmaintained a sort of influence over him, even more than he could accountto himself
for, yet still he was teasing and impertinent, and it was notthe sort of influence he desired.

  "I wish it been our blessed Lady's will to have averted this," said heto himself: "But the mischances of war often light upon those leastconcerned in the event. Poor Colin! thy beauty, playfulness, andflippancy of speech deserved a better guerdon. How shall I account to myroyal mistress for the cruel fate of her favourite?"

  With all this partial regret, Douglas felt that, by the loss of thisofficious page of the princess, he would be freed from the controul ofpetticoat-government. He perceived that the princess lived inconcealment somewhere in the neighbourhood,--kept an eye over all hisactions and movements,--and, by this her agent, checked or upbraided himaccording to her whimsical inexperience. Douglas was ambitious of havingthe beautiful princess for his spouse,--of being son-in-law to hissovereign,--and the first man in the realm; but he liked not to have hiscounsels impeded, or his arms checked, by a froward and romantic girl,however high her lineage or her endowments might soar. So that, upon thewhole, though he regretted the death of Colin Roy MacAlpin, he felt likeone released from a slight bondage. Alas, noble chief! little didst thouknow of the pang that was awaiting thee!

  It will be recollected that, when the Lady Margaret first arrived inthe campin the character of Colin her own page, she lodged her maidin the city of Roxburgh, disguised likewise as a boy. With her shecommunicated every day, and contrived to forward such letters to theCourt as satisfied her royal mother with regard to the motives of herabsence,--though these letters were, like many others of the sex, anything but the direct truth. The king was at this period living inretirement at his castle of Logie in Athol, on pretence of ill health.

  The name of the maiden of honour thus disguised was Mary Kirkmichael,the daughter of a knight in the shire of Fife. She was a lady of greatbeauty, and elegant address,--shrewd, sly, and enterprising.

  Two days after the rueful catastrophe above related, word was brought toDouglas, while engaged in his pavilion, that a lady at the door beggedearnestly to see him. "Some petitioner for the life of a prisoner," saidhe: "What other lady can have business with me? Tell her I have neitherleisure nor inclination at present to listen to the complaints andpetitions of women."

  "I have told her so already," said the knight in waiting; "but sherefuses to go away till she speak with you in private; and says that shehas something to communicate that deeply concerns your welfare. She isveiled; but seems a beautiful, accomplished, and courtly dame."

  At these words the Douglas started to his feet. He had no doubt that itwas the princess, emerged from her concealment in the priory or convent,and come to make inquiries after her favourite, and perhaps establishsome other mode of communication with himself. He laid his account withcomplaints and upbraidings, and, upon the whole, boded no great goodfrom this domiciliary visit. However, he determined to receive his royalmistress with some appearance of form; and, in a few seconds, at a givenword, squires, yeomen, and grooms, to the amount of seventy, werearranged in due order, every one in his proper place; and up a laneformed of these was the lady conducted to the captain, who received herstanding and uncovered; but, after exchanging courtesies with her, andperceiving that it was not the princess, jealous of his dignity, he puton his plumed bonnet, and waited with stately mien the developement ofher rank and errand.

  It was Mary Kirkmichael.

  "My noble lord," said she, "I have a word for your private ear, anddeeply doth it concern you and all this realm."

  Douglas beckoned to his friends and attendants, who withdrew and lefthim alone with the dame, who began thus with great earnestness ofmanner: "My lord of Douglas, I have but one question to ask, and, ifsatisfied with the answer, will not detain you a moment. What is becomeof the page Colin that attended your hand of late?" Douglas hesitated,deeming the lady to be some agent of the princess Margaret's. "Where ishe?" continued she, raising her voice, and advancing a step nearer tothe captain. "Tell me, as you would wish your soul to thrive. Is hewell? Is he safe?"

  "He is sped on a long journey, lady, and you may not expect to meet himagain for a season."

  "Sped on a long journey! Not see him again for a season! What does thisanswer mean? Captain, on that youth's well-being hang the safety, thenobility, and the honour of your house. Say but to me he is well, andnot exposed to any danger in the message on which he is gone."

  "Of his well-being I have no doubt; and the message on which he is goneis a safe one. He is under protection from all danger, commotion, orstrife."

  "It is well you can say so, else wo would have fallen to your lot, tomine, and to that of our nation."

  "I know he was a page of court, and in the confidence of my sovereignand adored Lady Margaret. But how could any misfortune attending a pageprove of such overwhelming import?"

  "_Was_ a page of court, my lord? What do you infer by that _was_? Praywhat is he now? I entreat of you to be more explicit."

  "The plain truth of the matter is shortly this: The boy fell into thehands of our enemies that night of the late fierce engagement."

  At this the lady uttered a scream; and Douglas, dreading she would fallinto hysterics, stretched out his arms to support her. "I pity you,gentle maiden," said he, "for I perceive you two have been lovers."

  She withdrew herself, shunning his profered support, and, looking himwildly in the face, said in a passionate voice, "In the hands of theEnglish? O Douglas, haste to redeem him! Give up all the prisoners youhave for that page's ransom; and if these will not suffice, give up allthe lands of Douglas and Mar; and if all these are still judgedinadequate, give up yourself. But, by your fealty, your honour, yournobility, I charge you, and, in the name of the Blessed Virgin, Iconjure you to lose no time in redeeming that youth."

  Douglas could scarcely contain his gravity at this rhapsody, weening itthe frantic remonstrance of a love-sick maid; but she, perceiving thebent and tenor of his disposition, held up her hand as a check to hisill-timed levity. "Unhappy chief!" exclaimed she, "Little art thou awarewhat a gulf of misery and despair thou art suspended over, and that by asingle thread within reach of the flame, and liable every moment tosnap, and hurl thee into inevitable ruin. Know, and to thyself alone beit known, that that page was no other than the princess of Scotlandherself; who, impelled by romantic affection, came in that disguise toattend thee in all thy perils, undertaken for her sake. It was sheherself who seized her rival, and placed her in your hands, thus givingyou an advantage which force could not bestow. And from time to time hasshe laid such injunctions on you, written and delivered by her own hand,as she judged conducive to your honour or advantage. If you suffer thatinestimable lady to lye in durance, or one hair of her head to fall tothe ground, after so many marks of affection and concern for you, youare unworthy of lady's esteem, of the titles you bear, or the honour ofknighthood."

  When the lady first came out with the fatal secret, and mentioned theprincess's name, Douglas strode hastily across the floor of thepavilion, as if he would have run out at the door, or rather fallenagainst it; but the motion was involuntary; he stopped short, and againturned round to the speaker, gazing on her as if only half comprehendingwhat she said. The truth of the assertion opened to him by degrees; and,it may well be supposed, the intelligence acted upon his mind and framelike a shock of electricity. He would fain have disbelieved it, had hebeen able to lay hold of a plausible pretext to doubt it; but everyrecollected circumstance coincided in the establishment of the unwelcomefact. All that he could say to the lady, as he stood like a statuegazing her in the face, was, "Who art thou?"

  "I am Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie," said she, "and I came with theprincess, disguised as her attendant. I am her friend and confidant, andwe held communication every day, till of late that my dear mistressdiscontinued her visits. O captain, tell me if it is in your power tosave her!"

  Douglas flung himself on a form in the corner of the tent, and hid hisface with his hand, and at the same time groaned as if every throbwould have burst his heart
's casement. He had seen his royal, hisaffectionate, and adored mistress swung from the enemy's battlements,without one effort to save her, and without a tear wetting his cheek;and his agony of mind became so extreme that he paid no more regard tothe lady, who was still standing over him, adding the bitterest censureto lamentation. Yet he told her not of her mistress's melancholyfate,--he could not tell her; but the ejaculatory words that he utteredfrom time to time too plainly informed Mary Kirkmichael that the life ofher royal mistress was either in jeopardy or irretrievably lost.

  The Douglas saw the lady no more, nor regarded her. He rushed fromthe tent, and gave such orders as quite confounded his warriors,one part being quite incompatible with another; and, in the confusion,Mary glided quietly away from the scene without farther notice. Allthe motions of Douglas, for two days subsequent to this piece ofinformation, were like those of a drunken man; he was enraged withoutcause, and acted without consistency; but the only point towards whichall these jarring and discordant passions constantly turned was revengeon the English--deadly and insatiable revenge. When he looked towardsthe ramparts of the castle, his dark eye would change its colour, andsink deeper under his brow, while his brown cheeks would appear as iffurrowed across, and his teeth ground and jarred against one another.His counsels, however, were not, at this time, of a nature suited toaccomplish any thing material against his rivals. He meditated the mostdeadly retaliation, but was prevented before he could put it inpractice.

  On the following evening, when the disturbance of his mind had somewhatsubsided, and appeared to be settling into a sullen depression ofspirit, or rather a softened melancholy, he was accosted by a monk, whohad craved and obtained admittance--for a deference to all that thesepeople said or did was a leading feature of that age. Douglas scarcelyregarded him on his first entrance, and to his address only deigned toanswer by a slight motion of his head; for the monk's whole appearanceaugured little beyond contempt. He was of a diminutive stature, had aslight, starved make, and a weak treble voice. His conversation,nevertheless, proved of that sort that soon drew the attention of thechief.

  "May the blessed Virgin, the mother of God, bless and shield you,captain!"

  "Humph!" returned the Douglas, noding his head.

  "May Saint Withold be your helmet and buckler in the day of battle--"

  "Amen!" said the Douglas, interrupting him, and taking a searching lookof the tiny being that spoke, as if there were something in the tones ofhis voice that struck him with emotion.

  --"And withhold your weapon from the blood of the good," added the monk,"from the breast of the professor of our holy religion, and dispose yourheart to peace and amity, that the land may have rest, and the humbleservants of the Cross protection. Why don't you say 'Amen' to this,knight? Is your profession of Christianity a mere form? and are theblessed tenets which it enjoins, strangers to thy turbulent bosom?"

  "Humph!" said Douglas: "With reverence be it spoken, monk, but you holybrethren have got a way of chattering about things that you do notunderstand. Adhere to your books and your beads. I am a soldier, andmust stick by my profession, bearing arms for my king and country."

  "I am a soldier too," rejoined the monk, "and bear arms and suffer in abetter cause. But enough of this. I have a strange message for you,captain. You must know that, a few weeks ago, a beautiful youth came toour monastery seeking supply of writing materials, which he could nototherwise procure. He was a kind and ingenious youth. I supplied him,for I loved him; and I have since seen him sundry times in my cell. Butlast night, as I was sitting alone, a little before midnight--I amafraid you will not believe me, captain, for the matter of my messageis so strange--I had gone over my breviary, and was sitting with thecross pressed to my lips, when behold the youth entered. I arose toreceive him; but he beckoned me to keep away from his person, and glidedbackward. I then recollected that he must be a spirit, else he could nothave got in; and, though I do not recollect all that he said, thepurport of his message was to the following effect:

  "'Benjamin,' said he, 'arise and go to the captain of the Scottish army,whom you will find in great perplexity of mind, and meditating schemesof cruelty and retaliation, which would be disgraceful to himself and tohis country. But let him beware; for there be some at his hand that hedoes not see; and if he dare in the slightest instance disobey theinjunctions which you shall from time to time lay on him, his sightshall be withered by a visitant from another world, whose face he shalltoo well recognize ever again to find rest under a consciousness of herpresence. Monk Benjamin, I was not what I seemed. A few days ago I was alady in the prime of youth and hope. I loved that captain, and wasbetrothed to him. For his sake I ventured my life, and lost it without asingle effort on his part to save me. But his fate is in my hand, and Iwill use the power. It is given to me to control or further his effortsas I see meet,--to turn his sword in the day of battle,--or to redoublethe strength of his and his warriors' arms. My behests shall be madeknown to him; and if he would avoid distraction of mind, as well asutter ruin, let him tremble to disobey. In the first place, then, youwill find him pondering on a scheme for the recovery of my lifelessbody,--a scheme of madness which cannot and may not succeed; therefore,charge him from me to desist. You will find him farther preparing anembassy to my father and mother to inform them of the circumstances ofmy death, and that not in the words of truth. But let him take care tokeep that a secret, as he would take care of his life and honour, for onthat depends his ultimate success. Tell him farther, from me, to revengemy death, but not on the helpless beings that are already in his power;to pursue with steady aim his primary object,--and his reward shall begreater than he can conceive.'

  "Strange as this story may appear, captain, it is strictly according totruth. You yourself may judge whether it was a true or lying spirit thatspoke to me."

  "Are you not some demon or spirit yourself," said the Douglas, "who knowsuch things as these? Tell me, are you a thing of flesh and blood, thatyou can thus tell me the thoughts and purposes of my heart?"

  "I am a being such as yourself," said the monk,--"a poor brother of theCistertian order, and of the cloister adjoining to this; and I onlyspeak what I was enjoined to speak, without knowing whether it is trueor false. I was threatened with trouble and dismay if I declined thecommission; and I advise you, captain, for your own peace of mind, toattend to this warning."

  Douglas promised that he would, at least for a time; and the monk,taking his leave, left the earl in the utmost consternation. The monk'stale was so simple and unmasked, there was no doubting the truth ofit,--for without such a communication it was impossible he could haveknown the things he uttered; and the assurance that a disembodied beingshould have such a power over him, though it somewhat staggered theDouglas' faith, created an unwonted sensation within his breast--asensation of wonder and awe; for none of that age were exempt from thesway of an overpowering superstition.