The Candlemass Road

by George MacDonald Fraser

  This sorting with what she had heard before she railed out again upon a law that would do as much yet could not secure tenants against forayers, “so shall you answer to me, and not to that long-nose Carleton. Make me oath on’t and shalt see that in my manor innocence may walk unafraid.”

  Now was he out of countenance, yet sought to mask it with a jest that on the border innocence did better to creep by unnoticed, and if he spoke truly of the horse she would think worse than if he lied. Seeing him palter, her brows came together, and “I’ll think worst of all, sirrah, if ye put me off further.”

  This put him in a strait, but having no help for it he made reluctant oath that he had gotten the horse on the Scotch side but two nights since, of one Dod Pringle, a great thief of Teviotdale that he had chanced on in the waste. Hodgson swore disbelief, how had Pringle that was a stark rider and notable villain parted with such a fine hobbler to a vagrom broken man?

  At this Waitabout shuffled and looked askance and drew breath, and would have said no more, but being pressed said that the Pringle had been one of a Scotch raid pursued out of England by Warden men, and being separated from his fellows and coming unaware on Wait-about that was bedded in the bracken, “so Black Dod, out of wits with the pursuit, and knowing himself for a murderer and worse, came raging on me wi’s lance, and having no help for it I must defend myself.”

  Again he gave over his tale, while we looked on him amazed, and Hodgson asked had he killed the Pringle, which Waitabout confessed he had, and taken the horse for fear of pursuit, and lain him up in the waste until hunger brought him forth to our door.

  Seeing my lady turn paper colour and thunderstruck, and myself at a loss before his bloody relation, Waitabout sought to excuse the deed in the telling, with such terms as “carefully” and “by chance” and “out of no malice”, which was a misjudgment, being so like to that irony he used in jesting, and far from apology made it sound worse, as though he lightly regarded the taking of life. Which I am sure he did, being bred in a hard school. But if my lady and I stood speechless awhile for the horror of it, and so easily told, not so Hodgson who let fly a great oath.

  “Yon Scotch gallows-bait! Now here’s the best news this twelvemonth! Slain Black Dod! Why, man, hast done a service! For this Pringle,” he told my lady, “was a right filthy fellow and man-killer, a curse in God’s sight, and saving my lady’s presence, overdue damnation from’s cradle!” And heartily asked Waitabout what ailed him, Black Dod being so foully regarded of both sides that the Land Sergeant would give him good deliverance.

  Waitabout doubted this, the Pringle being approved of Kerr of Cessford, and Master Carleton unwilling for policy to offend such a puissant Scotch lord, but as he spoke I marked rather how my lady and Master Hodgson had gone widdershins in their opinions, the bailiff now liking Waitabout whom he had ill-eyed before, while my lady, that had smiled on him kindly but a moment since, now looked as one that knows not what she hears, passing to loathing and horror, which Waitabout seeing protested his honesty to her. She gazed on him as though he were a very toad.

  “This passes for honesty?” cries she. “I ask a fellow how he came by a horse, and he says ‘Fie, madam, ’tis a nothing matter, I had it by cutting a throat o’ Monday night.’ And this for an honest answer! Am I run mad or is this Bedlam? Oh, but I forget – this is Cumberland, where a man may stand open-eyed and talk of murder as though ’tis no more than rifling a jam-pot! And my priest crosseth himself welladay, and my bailiff his great guts quiver with admiration! Now, save me, for I know nothing!”

  At this Hodgson begged her bethink this was at worst a manslaughter, and I must needs speak, indeed to assure her how I abhorred the act, and deplored it, but that, alas, as the border judged these things, it was common enough, and in their phrase, the custom of the country. This put her in such a taking that I never saw such white heat from a fair vessel.

  “Jesu! And I forebore to whip him for bread and cheese! And would have dealt kindly with a poor harmless knave that stood this half hour smiling and beguiling and jesting of little faults, and now, on’s own confession, I find he’s bloody as Cain! And a priest to excuse it, and that shuffling thing to applaud it – oh, aye, since ‘twas a Scotch throat cut, what’s to matter, murder or manslaughter, ’tis all one! Well, your distinctions are too nice for me. Let him to Carlisle, where as the border judges they may knight him for his butchery, or if not, hang him up for it, or for the horse, or for lacking a patch to his breeches arse — for that, like enough, will be the custom of the country!”

  And she flung her cap on the fire that had consumed her kerchief, and when I sought to calm her telling her it was ill to understand by one of her sex gently nurtured that came unknowing into a hard country, she rounded on me with a great oath that she could understand the Barbary rovers better. She bade Hodgson take his prisoner out and hold him for the Land Sergeant, “who if his justice bears as hard on him as it doth on other slayers and flayers, these Nixons that threaten me and mine, he has little enough to fear. God’s light, it seems that in these parts none dare harm a thief save another thief!” And forthwith strode to the door, calling “Hola, Peterkin!”, but as the page came tripping to see what was her will, she bore up stock-still, and her rage seemed to die like a candle snuffed. She stood with her hands clasped, as one in a muse, and I wondered at this change and waited to see if the storm should rise again, but it did not.

  Thus stood she while I might tell two paternosters, when collecting herself and seeing the page that knelt by her, waiting her will, she fell to toying with his hair that was spry and curly, and smiled to herself in such wise that I felt a sudden fear chill to my marrow, such an ill smile and out of all keeping with her moods past that I had seen come and go camelion-like. But when she spoke it was gently to the page, taking the switch from his hand and bidding him see her palfrey well stalled for she would not ride today. She bade him also send Master Lightfoot in to her, but even as he sped on his errand called him back, and said he should let the lawyer alone “for it were best we made shift without his counsel, since he is one that understandeth not the custom of the country.”

  Now at these words my fear increased, so bodeful they sounded in her utterance. Hodgson trembled to hear her, and Waitabout his breath rustled like an asthma as though he read his doom in them, the which I doubted not she had the stomach to, for now she looked on him cruelly out of that fair cold face, tapping the switch on her hand and saying nor would she trouble the Land Sergeant “whose cares are so heavy that he must snore abed even when poor folk are rid on to their ruin. Sure, we must relieve him of this paltry fellow, and take him in our charge.”

  And pacing slowly to the table of a sudden struck it a great stroke with her switch which she let lie there, while we stood dumb. Then putting her arm a-kenbo asked Hodgson what trees stood about the house.

  Fearing her intent, he stammered ere he could answer that there were many fair trees, and she asking him in particular, said there were many ash and chestayne, with oak and elm beyond the barnekin.

  “Oak will serve,” says she, with that ill smile again. “’Tis a sturdy tree and most English. You are English, are you not, sir murderer? But if the chestayne likes you better, why, ’tis all one. What say you?”

  My flesh crawled to hear her so mildly spoke yet fell smiling, and crawled yet again to hear Waitabout try to put on a brag though his voice was hoarse, answering that chestaynes had ever been dear to him having in childhood used their nuts for toys. I would have sued with her, but she bade me right harshly hold my peace.

  “I am lord in my own manor with justice therein,” said she. “And if you open your mouth to me I shall have you thrashed out of bounds, by God I will!”

  Then told the bailiff to put him below, and furnish an hurdle and rope, and for me I might keep my words for Master Waitabout if he had need of them, which, she said, she doubted not, “for if his sinful tally be no more than one slaughter and horse reft, oh, aye, and bread and che
ese intended, I’ll be the more astonished.” And so left us.

  WHEN SHE WAS GONE out the bailiff and I were like men of stone, to have heard her that had seemed so civil and toward a lady, if impetuous, condemn in such malice and almost in jest, but Waitabout although something pallid as well he might be, wagged his head and said she was her grandsire’s get, and no gainsaying. We looked on him in terror, but when I offered him to do such service as I might for his soul, shrugged it away saying it availed him not for the time, but if, like Gilpin of Tynedale, I would minister at the gibbet foot, it might do him some good.

  I remonstrated with Hodgson that was indeed shaken now though he had shown little regard for his prisoner before, but was taken aback by this sudden cruel resolve in my lady. Better, I said, that he should acquaint the Land Sergeant quickly, so might Waitabout stand on trial for what he had confessed, but this he would by no means listen to for his office’s sake. “I have seen that this past hour that I have not seen the like since my old lord was in his fiery youth! I durst not, Father Lewis, for I know yon look, and that hellish humour. And, man, it is her right, were Carleton and Warden and all against her, saving the Queen’s grace.” Which he fell to muttering he doubted they would, but would approve her proceeding on Waitabout, whom he then led down, leaving me in much agony of spirit, no more for him that was to suffer than for her that showed such little ruth, unseemly in one so young and of her sex.

  I got me to prayer, but I fear rustily – no, I am and was no priest at all. Still it seemed to me that a poor intercession were better than none, so I russled at it in my chamber, and presently was much amazed to hear one singing on a gay note right careless, thus:

  So Charlie shall have a new bonnet,

  And Charlie shall go to the fair,

  And Charlie shall have a new ribbon

  To tie up his bonny brown hair.

  I went down, and here is my lady all smiles, and in a pretty day gown of blue, bearing a new pomaunder which she called out I must prove for her, putting it to my nose saying that Susan had come on a sacket of lavender for her. If my flesh had been plucked before, it was like now to creep from my frame to see her so blithe, knowing what she purposed, and I fell to wondering was she one of those that, seeming fair and pleasant, yet have that cruel lust that joyeth in the torment of others, as ye may see not in men alone, but even more in ladies that I have observed laugh loud and high when the mastiff tears the bear’s flesh, or peep ’twixt their fingers eagerly when Derrick is at his employ with the bowelling knife.

  It put me in fresh fear of her, yet would I have spoken, but she bade me gently enough hold my peace, and sit, for I should have stirring enough anon. This I did, to one side, while she told me that she would soon have brought up from London furnishings and costly stuffs and fitments that would make this mouldy cave, as she called it, a house fit for the Queen’s grace herself if she should ever fare north, in which case, says she with a roguish look, “you must put off your habit and beads and look like a Christian.” So she sat in her great chair humming hey-nonny and talking lightly, and breathing in her pomaunder until Hodgson came, leading the Waitabout bound, who made a bow to my lady and kept his countenance, but not with much ease.

  She putting by her pomaunder, looked fixedly upon him a while, and asked had Hodgson set the hurdle and rope by the chestayne. “For here is one that hath confessed to life taken, and a horse carried away, and breaking in, that are all felonies commonly punished by death. And since he falleth in my charge my duty is plain to see.” At this I would have broken in, but she stilled me with a hand raised, and still considering Waitabout, asked of Hodgson, was the Scotch knave that had died untimely a great thief indeed. At this the bailiff, thinking she sought some excuse in Waitabout’s favour, cried out eagerly:

  “Lady, as stark a rogue as ever fired thatch! A’ slew and robbed along the line, and slaughtered severals and carried off mair insight and did mair mischief —”

  “I meant not that,” says she. “So great his crimes, yet he was as much a life to answer for as any. I meant rather, was he a stout man of his hands?”

  Hodgson wondering swore he was all of that, and for sword or lance Dod Pringle had been the master of all but a scant few, aye, saving perhaps, says he, babbling in his fashion, Willie Kang the Irvine, or Jack Charlton, or now he thought on’t, Geordie Burn or young Rob Carey that was Middle March Warden for England, until she cut him short.

  “Then to kill and rob him was no small thing,” says she, and looked narrowly on Waitabout what time she sighed in her pomaunder again. “Tell me, fellow, that stand doomed and can make not bad worse: how many more have ye slain in your time – oh, gently defending yourself?” And in that instant I wondered whither she went, that aimed not where she looked, and Waitabout’s shrewd wit mayhap wondered too, for he answered with somewhat of his droll face.

  “Nay, an’t please my lady, I have opened my mouth over-wide this day, and would keep modest silence.”

  At which, after a moment, she gave a little sigh again. “Then fare ye well, Master Waitabout.” And to Hodgson: “Hang him up.” And rising would have gone briskly out, but Waitabout, seeing his life walk away with her dainty steps, cried out what would she have of him that baited him with questions. She looked not back until at the very door, when he calling again what would she have of him, she turned about.

  “Come, that’s better,” says she. “What would I have? In a word, yourself. Your service, which I would not choose, but I have no otherwhere to turn.” She came to him, and looked upon his face, and spake flat and plain. “Serve me, and you shall have life. Deny me, and you hang.”

  “Lady, a God’s name,” says he, and his voice shook, rather with wonder than fear. “How serve you?”

  “At this place Triermain,” says she. “Against the thieves that will ride on my tenants this night.”

  Then I saw all that had half-guessed at it before, and my soul rejoiced for her who had been but playing to bring him into that terror she would have him in, for her purpose, and then I trembled for what might come of it, and cried out with the bailiff that she bethink what she said, at which she turned on us right fierce.

  “I think what I do! Needs must I, that have no other help but mine own wit! It lies all in my charge, as I have been well instructed this day.” And again came that ill smile. “On this border men must shift for themselves. It is the custom of the country.”

  Hodgson protested that this was a broken man, a wanderer of no account.

  “That can fight thieves!” cries she. “So he can make a stand against these Nixons for me, do I care if he is Bayard or the village idiot?”

  Waitabout bewildered asked what of the Nixons, and Hodgson telling him briefly, he looked on my lady in amaze, and then said here was a fair choice, to hang on her gibbet or die such a death as the Nixons would give him if he withstood them. My lady in anger said that he might to the chestayne now and the devil thereafter, for if he liked not the choice she would make a balladine4 of him then and there. He shook his head as one that understands not, and said he was but one, and would she have him face many?

  “Aye,” says she. “That, or face your Maker.”

  He nodded two or three times slowly, regarding her as though to judge her resolve, and then asked, had she thought of what avail would one poor March rider be against those lusty reivers, monstrous men such as she knew not of, “or have ye thought that I might take your service and turn tail afore I was a mile from your house? Nay, but ye have wit enough to judge me true that asks the question.” Of Hodgson he asked how many Nixons would ride. The bailiff answered five or six, never more than ten, and the Waitabout sighed and grated his teeth.

  “So,” says he, “there will be I11 Will, and with him Clemmie the Clash and Half-drowned Geordie, and Hungry Jock Nixon also. But no Armstrongs or Crosers?”

  “Not this road,” says the bailiff. “It is Ill Will’s blackmail.”

  Waitabout considered, as one that reckons in
his mind, and we all quiet and myself mightily troubled, but my lady spake not nor took her eyes from him. He put his head of one side and asked her, if he said her nay would she hang him up indeed? Still she answered not but ever looked on him, and again I felt that knowing between them. At length he smiled and took a great breath and said:

  “God willing, lady, I’ll keep your village for you.”

  Hearing this, I besought her take counsel of the Land Sergeant at Gilsland or the Captain of Bewcastle, urging that a raid resisted might prove worse than if she let the reivers have their will of the place, and Hodgson cried this up too, and all the while she looked on Waitabout and seemed to hear us not. Then of a sudden she said was this our counsel, to leave her folk defenceless ’gainst the wolves, and was that the custom of the country? We were silent, and she asked Waitabout could he make the village good? He asked her what men she had, and she said, none that would not fly when the fray rose, they being but her page and postillions and the menials of the house.

  “Then I must put some metal in your tenants, lady,” says he, “and there my heart doubts me, for what I know of them they are sheep. But, there. You are resolved on this thing?”

  She said she was. Then, said he, for his life he would serve her until next day sunrise, and she must stand assurance for him to the Wardens for any harm done, and compensate him for the loss of his horse, should it so befall, and answer any complaint or bill brought by any against him, and use her good offices at law if need be. She opened her eyes at this catalogue and bade him take breath.

  “Do you make terms with me that can put you to the gallows?”

  “What better time to make terms, lady?” quo’ he. “It is the custom of the country.”

  She looked to us, and Hodgson said it was so, and she consented, so that he kept his bargain, of which he must make oath.