CHAPTER VII.
The evening of this eventful day found the Scottish earls seatedtogether in a small apartment of one of the buildings adjoining theroyal palace, which in the solemn seasons we have enumerated was alwayscrowded with guests, who were there feasted and maintained at the king'sexpense during the whole of their stay. Inconveniences in their privatequarters were little heeded by the nobles, who seldom found themselvesthere, save for the purpose of a few hours sleep, and served but toenhance by contrast the lavish richness and luxury which surrounded themin the palace and presence of their king; but to the Earls of Buchan andFife the inconveniences of their quarters very materially increased theirritability and annoyance of their present situation. Fife hadstretched himself on two chairs, and leaning his elbows on the broadshelf formed by the small casement, cast many wistful glances on thestreet below, through which richly-attired gallants, both on foot andhorseback, were continually passing. He was one of those frivolouslittle minds with whom the present is all in all, caring little for thepast, and still less for the future. It was no marvel, therefore, thathe preferred the utter abandonment of his distracted country for theluxury and ease attending the court and camp of Edward, to the greatdangers and little recompense attending the toils and struggles of apatriot. The only emotion of any weight with him was the remembrance ofand desire of avenging petty injuries, fancying and aggravating themwhen, in fact, none was intended.
Very different was the character of the Earl of Buchan; morose, fierce,his natural hardness of disposition unsoftened by one whisper ofchivalry, although educated in the best school of knighthood, andcontinually the follower of King Edward, he adhered to him first, simplybecause his estates in England were far more to his taste than those inScotland, towards which he felt no filial tie; and soon after hismarriage, repugnance to his high-minded and richly-gifted countess,which ever seemed a reproach and slur upon himself, kept him still morealoof, satisfied that the close retirement in which she lived, thedesert and rugged situation of his castle, would effectually debar herfrom using that influence he knew she possessed, and keep her wholly andsolely his own; a strange kind of feeling, when, in reality, the widecontrast between them made her an object of dislike, only to beaccounted for by the fact that a dark, suspicious, jealous temper wasever at work within him.
"Now, do but look at that fellow's doublet, Comyn. Look, how gay theypass below, and here am I, with my new, richly-broidered suit, withwhich I thought to brave it with the best of them--here am I, I say,pent up in stone walls like a caged goldfinch, 'stead of theentertainment I had pictured; 'tis enough to chafe the spirit of asaint."
"And canst thou think of such things now, thou sorry fool?" demandedBuchan, sternly, pausing in his hurried stride up and down the narrowprecincts of the chamber; "hast thou no worthier subject forcontemplation?"
"None, save thy dutiful wife's most dutiful conduct, Comyn, which,being the less agreeable of the two, I dismiss the first I owe her smallthanks for playing the representative of my house; methinks, herimprisonment would better serve King Edward's cause and ours too."
"Aye, imprisonment--imprisonment for life," muttered the earl, slowly."Let but King Edward restore me my good sword, and he may wreak hisvengeance on her as he listeth. Not all the castles of Scotland, thearms of Scottish men, dare guard a wife against her husband; bitterlyshall she rue this deed."
"And thy son, my gentle kinsman, what wilt thou do with him, bethinkthee? Thou wilt find him as great a rebel as his mother; I have evertold thee thou wert a fool to leave him so long with his brainstruckmother."
"She hath not, she dared not bring him with her to the murderer of hiskinsman--Duncan of Fife, I tell thee she dare not; but if she hath, whyhe is but a child, a mere boy, incapable of forming judgment one way orthe other."
"Not so much a child as thou thinkest, my good lord; some sixteen yearsor so have made a stalwart warrior ere this. Be warned; send off atrusty messenger to the Tower of Buchan, and, without any time forwarning, bring that boy as the hostage of thy good faith and loyalty toEdward; thou wilt thus cure him of his patriotic fancies, and renderthine interest secure, and as thou desirest to reward thy dutifulpartner, thou wilt do it effectually; for, trust me, that boy is thevery apple of her eye, in her affections her very doting-place."
"Jest not, Duncan, or by all the saints, thou wilt drive me mad!"wrathfully exclaimed Buchan. "It shall be as thou sayest; and more, Iwill gain the royal warrant for the deed--permission to this effect mayshorten this cursed confinement for us both. I have forgotten the boy'sage; his mother's high-sounding patriotism may have tinctured himalready. Thou smilest."
"At thy marvellous good faith in thy wife's _patriotism_, goodkinsman--oh, well perchance, like charity, it covereth a multitude ofsins."
"What meanest thou, my Lord of Fife?" demanded Buchan, shortly andabruptly, pausing in his walk to face his companion, his suspicioustemper instantly aroused by Fife's peculiar tone. "What wouldst thouinsinuate? Tamper not with me; thou knowest I am no subject for ajest."
"I have but to look on thee to know that, my most solemn-visagedbrother. I neither insinuate nor tamper with your lordship. Simply andheartily I do but give thee joy for thy faith in female patriotism,"answered Fife, carelessly, but with an expression of countenance thatdid not accord with his tone.
"What, in the fiend's name, then, has urged her to this mad act, if itbe not what she and others as mad as she call patriotism?"
"May not a lurking affection for the Bruce have given incentive to loveof country? Buchan, of a truth, thou art dull as a sword-blade whenplunged in muddy water."
"Affection for the Bruce? Thou art mad as she is, Duncan. What the foulfiend, knows she of the Bruce? No, no! 'tis too wild a tale--when havethey ever met?"
"More often than thou listeth, gentle kinsman," returned Fife, with justsufficient show of mystery to lash his companion into fury. "I couldtell thee of a time when Robert of Carrick was domesticated with myimmaculate sister, hunting with her, hawking with her, reading with her,making favorable impressions on every heart in Fife Castle save mineown."
"And she loved him!--she was loved," muttered Buchan; "and she vowed hertroth to me, the foul-mouthed traitress! She loved him, saidst thou?"
"On my faith, I know not, Comyn. Rumors, I know, went abroad that itwould have been better for the Lady Isabella's peace and honor if thisgallant, fair-spoken knight had kept aloof."
"And then, her brother, carest not to speak these things, and in thatreckless tone? By St. Swithin, ye are well matched," returned Buchan,with a short and bitter laugh of scorn.
"Faith, Comyn, I love mine own life and comfort too well to stand up thechampion of woman's honor; besides, I vouch not for the truth offloating rumors. I tell thee but what comes across my brain; for itsworth thou art the best judge."
"I were a fool to mine own interest to doubt thee now, little worth asare thy words in common," again muttered the incensed earl, resuming hishasty strides. "Patriotism! loyalty! ha, ha! high-sounding words,forsooth. And have they not met since then until now?" he demanded,stopping suddenly before his companion.
"Even so, fair kinsman. Whilst thou wert doing such loyal duty toEdward, after the battle of Falkirk, forgetting thou hadst a wife andcastle to look after, Robert Earl of Carrick found a comfortabledomicile within thy stone walls, and in the fair, sweet company of thineIsabella, my lord. No doubt, in all honorable and seemly intercourse;gallant devotion on the one side, and dignified courtesy on theother--nothing more, depend on't; still it seems but natural that thememory of a comely face and knightly form should prove incentives toloyalty and patriotism."
"The foul fiend take thy jesting!" exclaimed Buchan. "Natural, forsooth;aye, the same nature that bade me loathe the presence, aye, the veryname of that deceiving traitress. And so that smooth-faced villainCarrick found welcome in the castle of a Comyn the months we missed himfrom the court. Ha, ha! thou hast done me good service, Lord of Fife. Ihad not enough of injuries before to dema
nd at the hand of Robert Bruce.And for Dame Isabella, may the fury of every fiend follow me, if I placeher not in the hands of Edward, alive or dead! his wrath will save methe trouble of seeking further vengeance."
"Nay, thou art a very fool to be so chafed," coolly observed Fife. "Thouhast taken no care of thy wife, and therefore hast no right to demandstrict account of her amusements in thy absence; and how do we know sheis not as virtuous as the rest of them? I do but tell thee of thesethings to pass away the time. Ha! there goes the prince's Gasconfavorite, by mine honor. Gaveston sports it bravely; look at his crimsonmantle wadded with sables. He hath changed his garb since morning.Faith, he is a lucky dog! the prince's love may be valued at somethousand marks a year--worth possessing, by St. Michael!"
A muttered oath was all the reply which his companion vouchsafed, nordid the thunder-cloud upon his brow disperse that evening.
The careless recklessness of Fife had no power to lessen in the earl'smind the weight of the shameful charge he had brought against thecountess. Buchan's dark, suspicious mind not alone received it, butcherished it, revelled in it, as giving him that which he had longdesired, a good foundation for dislike and jealousy, a well-foundedpretence for every species of annoyance and revenge. The Earl of Fife,who had, in fact, merely spoken, as he had said, to while away thetime, and for the pleasure of seeing his brother-in-law enraged, thoughtas little of his words _after_ as he had _before_ they were uttered. Alicentious follower of pleasure in every form himself, he imagined, assuch thoughtless characters generally do, that everybody must be likehim. From his weak and volatile mind, then, all remembrance of thatevening's conversation faded as soon as it was spoken; but with the Earlof Buchan it remained brooding on itself, and filling his dark spiritwith yet blacker fancies.
The confinement of the Scottish noblemen was not of long duration.Edward, whose temper, save when his ambition was concerned, wasgenerally just and equitable, discovering, after an impartialexamination, that they were in no ways connected with the affairs in thenorth, and feeling also it was his interest to conciliate the regard ofall the Scottish nobles disaffected to Bruce, very soon restored themalike to their personal liberty and to his favor; his courteous apologyfor unjust suspicion, frankly acknowledging that the news from Scotland,combined with his irritating disease, had rendered him blind andsuspicious, at once disarmed Fife of wrath. Buchan, perhaps, had notbeen so easily appeased had his mind been less darkly engrossed. Hispetition, that his son might be sent for, to be placed as a hostage inthe hands of Edward, and thus saved from the authority of his mother,whom he represented as an artful, designing woman, possessed ofdangerous influence, was acceded to on the instant, and the king's fullconfidence restored. It was easy to act upon Edward's mind, alreadyincensed against Isabella of Buchan for her daring defiance of hispower; and Buchan did work, till he felt perfectly satisfied that thewife he hated would be fully cared for without the very smallest troubleor interference on his part, save the obtaining possession of herperson; that the vengeance he had vowed would be fully perfected,without any reproach or stigma cast upon his name.
Meantime the exertions of the King of England for the suppression of therebels continued with unabated ardor. Orders were issued and proclaimedin every part of England for the gathering together one of the noblestand mightiest armies that had ever yet followed him to war. To render itstill more splendidly impressive, and give fresh incentive to hissubjects, whose warlike spirit he perhaps feared might be somewhatdepressed by this constant call upon them for the reduction of acountry ever rising in revolt, Edward caused proclamation to beseverally made in every important town or county, "that all who wereunder the obligation to become knights, and possessed the necessarymeans, should appear at Westminster on the coming solemn season ofWhitsuntide, where they should be furnished with every requisite, saveand except the trappings for their horses, from the king's wardrobe, andbe treated with all solemn honor and distinction as best befitted theirrank, and the holy vows they took upon themselves."
A proclamation such as this, in the very heart of the chivalric era, wasall-sufficient to engage every Englishman heart and soul in the serviceof his king; and ere the few weeks intervening between Easter andWhitsuntide were passed, Westminster and its environs presented a sceneof martial magnificence and knightly splendor, which had never beforebeen equalled. Three hundred noble youths, sons of earls, barons, andknights, speedily assembled at the place appointed, all attendedaccording to their rank and pretensions; all hot and fiery spirits,eager to prove by their prompt attendance their desire to accept theirsovereign's invitation. The splendor of their attire seemed to demandlittle increase from the bounty of the king, but nevertheless, finelinen garments, rich purple robes, and superb mantles woven with gold,were bestowed on each youthful candidate, thus strengthening the linkswhich bound him to his chivalric sovereign, by the gratification of hisvanity in addition to the envied honors of knighthood. As our talerelates more to Scottish than to English history, we may not lingerlonger on the affairs of South Britain than is absolutely necessary forthe clear comprehension of the situation of her far less flourishingsister. Exciting therefore as was the scene enacted in Westminster,descriptive as it was of the spirit of the age, we are compelled to giveit but a hasty glance, and pass on to events of greater moment.
Glorious, indeed, to an eyewitness, must have been the ceremony ofadmitting these noble and valiant youths into the solemn mysteries andchivalric honors of knighthood. On that day the Prince of Wales wasfirst dubbed a knight, and made Duke of Aquitaine; and so great was thepressure of the crowd, in their eagerness to witness the ceremonial inthe abbey, where the prince hastened to confer his newly-receiveddignity on his companions, that three knights were killed, and severalfainted from heat and exhaustion. Strong war-horses were compelled todrive back and divide the pressing crowds, ere the ceremony was allowedto proceed. A solemn banquet succeeded; and then it was that Edward,whose energy of mind appeared completely to have annihilated disease andweakness of frame, made that extraordinary vow, which it has puzzledboth historian and antiquary satisfactorily to explain. The matter ofthe vow merely betrayed the indomitable spirit of the man, but themanner seemed strange even in that age. Two swans, decorated with goldennets and gilded reeds, were placed in solemn pomp before the king, andhe, with imposing fervor, made a solemn vow to the Almighty and theswans, that he would go to Scotland, and, living or dead, avenge themurder of Comyn, and the broken faith of the traitorous Scots. Then,with that earnestness of voice and majesty of mien for which he wasremarkable, he adjured his subjects, one and all, by the solemn fealtythey had sworn to him, that if he should die on the journey, they wouldcarry his body into Scotland, and never give it burial till the prince'sdominion was established in that country. Eagerly and willingly thenobles gave the required pledge; and so much earnestness of purpose, somuch martial spirit pervaded that gorgeous assembly, that once more didhope prevail in the monarch's breast, once more did he believe hisambitious yearnings would all be fulfilled, and Scotland, rebellious,haughty Scotland, lie crushed and broken at his feet. Once more his darkeye flashed, his proud lip curled with its wonted smiles; his warriorform, erect and firm as in former days, now spurned the couch ofdisease, and rode his war-horse with all the grace and ease of formeryears. A gallant army, under the command of Aymer de Valence, Earl ofPembroke, had already been dispatched towards Scotland, bearing with itthe messengers of the Earl of Buchan, armed both with their lord'scommands and Edward's warrant for the detention of the young heir ofBuchan, and to bring him with all honor to the head-quarters of theking. The name of Isabella of Buchan was subjoined to that of the Bruce,and together with all those concerned in his rising proclaimed astraitors and a price set upon their heads. This done, the king had beenenabled to wait with greater tranquillity the assembling of his largerarmy, and after the ceremonials of Westminster, orders were issued forevery earl and baron to proceed with their followers to Carlisle, whichwas named the head-quarters of the army, there
to join their sovereignwith his own immediate troops. The Scottish nobles Edward's usual policyretained in honorable posts about his person, not choosing to trusttheir fidelity beyond the reach of his own eye.
Obedient to these commands, all England speedily appeared in motion, thetroops of every county moving as by one impulse to Carlisle. Yet therewere some of England's noblest barons in whose breasts a species ofadmiration, even affection, was at work towards the very man they werenow marching to destroy, and this was frequently the case in the ages ofchivalry. Fickle as the character of Robert Bruce had appeared to be,there was that in it which had ever attracted, riveted the regard ofmany of the noble spirits in King Edward's court. The rash daring of hisenterprise, the dangers which encircled him, were such as dazzled andfascinated the imagination of those knights in whom the true spirit ofchivalry found rest. Pre-eminent amongst these was the noble Earl ofGloucester. His duty to his sovereign urged him to take the field; hisattachment for the Bruce would have held him neuter, for the ties thatbound brothers in arms were of no common or wavering nature. Brothers inblood had frequently found themselves opposed horse to horse, and lanceto lance, on the same field, and no scruples of conscience, no pleadingsof affection, had power to avert the unnatural strife; but not such wasit with brothers in arms--a link strong as adamant, pure as their ownsword-steel, bound their hearts as one; and rather, much rather wouldGloucester have laid down his own life, than expose himself to thefearful risk of staining his sword with the blood of his friend. Thedeepest dejection took possession of his soul, which not all theconfidence of his sovereign, the gentle, affectionate pleadings of hiswife, could in any way assuage.
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