Waverley; Or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Volume 2

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 Waverleyon the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of CarlisleCastle. But he paced it long in every direction before the hourwhen, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates wereopened and the draw-bridge lowered. He produced his order to thesergeant of the guard and was admitted.

  The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaultedapartment in the central part of the Castle; a huge old tower,supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks,seemingly of Henry VIII's time, or somewhat later. The grating ofthe large old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purposeof admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, as theunfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffledalong the stone floor of his prison to fling himself into hisfriend's arms.

  'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm and even cheerful voice,'thisis truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with thehighest pleasure. And how does Rose? and how is our old whimsicalfriend the Baron? Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom. Andhow will you settle precedence between the three ermines passantand the bear and boot-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;on the 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in sideby side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But Iam no boy, to sit down and weep because the luck has gone againstme. I knew the stake which I risked; we played the game boldly andthe forfeit shall be paid manfully. And now, since my time isshort, let me come to the questions that interest me most--thePrince? has he escaped the bloodhounds?'

  '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 hadthen transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest. Hethen asked after several other friends; and made many minuteinquiries concerning the fate of his own clansmen. They hadsuffered less than other tribes who had been engaged in theaffair; for, having in a great measure dispersed and returned homeafter the captivity of their Chieftain, according to the universalcustom of the Highlanders, they were not in arms when theinsurrection was finally suppressed, and consequently were treatedwith less rigour. This Fergus heard with great satisfaction.

  'You are rich,' he said, 'Waverley, and you are generous. When youhear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about theirmiserable possessions by some harsh overseer or agent ofgovernment, remember you have worn their tartan and are an adoptedson of their race, The Baron, who knows our manners and lives nearour country, will apprise you of the time and means to be theirprotector. Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian Vohr?'

  Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which heafterwards so amply redeemed that his memory still lives in theseglens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.

  'Would to God,' continued the Chieftain, 'I could bequeath to youmy rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and braverace; or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan toaccept of his life upon their terms, and be to you what he hasbeen to me, the kindest, the bravest, the most devoted--'

  The tears which his own fate could not draw forth fell fast forthat of his foster-brother.

  'But,' said he, drying them,'that cannot be. You cannot be to themVich Ian Vohr; and these three magic words,' said he, halfsmiling, 'are the only Open Sesame to their feelings andsympathies, and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in death,as he has done through his whole life.'

  'And I am sure,' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor,on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lainso still that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward was notaware of his presence--'I am sure Evan never desired or deserved abetter end than 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 BodachGlas?' Then, before Edward could answer, 'I saw him again lastnight: he stood in the slip of moonshine which fell from that highand narrow window towards my bed. "Why should I fear him?" Ithought; "to-morrow, long ere this time, I shall be as immaterialas he." "False spirit," I said, "art thou come to close thy walkson earth and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the lastdescendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed to beckon and tosmile as he faded from my sight. What do you think of it? I askedthe same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man;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 ofit?'

  'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid disputeupon such a point at such a moment. A tap at the door nowannounced that good man, and Edward retired while he administeredto both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode whichthe Church of Rome prescribes.

  In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file ofsoldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters fromthe legs of the prisoners.

  'You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength andcourage; we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legsare cramped into palsy, and when they free us they send sixsoldiers with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle bystorm!'

  Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had beentaken in consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners toescape, in which they had very nearly succeeded.

  Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms. 'Thisis the last turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey.And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora--a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrillswithin me'

  'We part not here!' said Waverley.

  'O yes, we do; you must come no farther. Not that I fear what isto follow for myself,' he said proudly. 'Nature has her torturesas well as art, and how happy should we think the man who escapesfrom the throes of a mortal and painful disorder in the space of ashort half hour? And this matter, spin it out as they will, cannotlast longer. But what a dying man can suffer firmly may kill aliving friend to look upon. This same law of high treason,' hecontinued, with astonishing firmness and composure, 'is one of theblessings, Edward, with which your free country has accommodatedpoor old Scotland; her own jurisprudence, as I have heard, wasmuch milder. But I suppose one day or other--when there are nolonger any wild Highlanders to benefit by its tender mercies--theywill blot it from their records as levelling them with a nation ofcannibals. The mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head--theyhave not the wit to grace mine with a paper coronet; there wouldbe some satire in that, Edward. I hope they will set it on theScotch gate though, that I may look, even after death, to the bluehills of my own country, which I love so dearly. The Baron wouldhave added,

  Moritur, et moriens dukes reminiscitur Argos.'

  A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heardin the court-yard of the Castle. 'As I have told you why you mustnot follow me, and these sounds admonish me that my time fliesfast, tell me how you found poor Flora.'

  Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations, gavesome account 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 mayRose and you enjoy it!--but you can never know the purity offeeling which combines two orphans like Flora and me, left aloneas it were in the world, and being all in all to each other fromour very infancy. But her strong sense of duty and predominantfeeling of loyalty will give new nerve to her mind after theimmediate and acute sensation of this parting has passed away. Shewill then think of Fergus as of the heroes of our race, upon w
hosedeeds she loved to dwell.'

  'Shall she not see you then?' asked Waverley. 'She seemed toexpect it.'

  'A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting. Icould not part with her without tears, and I cannot bear thatthese men should think they have power to extort them. She wasmade to believe she would see me at a later hour, and this letter,which my confessor will deliver, will apprise her that all isover.'

  An officer now appeared and intimated that the High Sheriff andhis attendants waited before the gate of the Castle to claim thebodies of Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich. 'I come,' saidFergus. Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm and followed byEvan Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of the tower,the soldiers bringing up the rear. The court was occupied by asquadron of dragoons and a battalion of infantry, drawn up inhollow square. Within their ranks was the sledge or hurdle onwhich the prisoners were to be drawn to the place of execution,about a mile distant from Carlisle. It was painted black, anddrawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat theexecutioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade, withthe broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse, wasan empty seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark Gothicarchway that opened on the drawbridge were seen on horseback theHigh Sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt thecivil and military powers did not permit to come farther. 'This iswell GOT UP for a closing scene,' said Fergus, smilingdisdainfully as he gazed around upon the apparatus of terror. EvanDhu exclaimed with some eagerness, after looking at the dragoons,'These are the very chields that galloped off at Gladsmuir, beforewe could kill a dozen o' them. They look 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 nimblyinto his place. Evan sat down by his side. The priest was tofollow in a carriage belonging to his patron, the Catholicgentleman at whose house Flora resided. As Fergus waved his handto Edward the ranks closed around the sledge, and the wholeprocession began to move forward. There was a momentary stop atthe gateway, while the governor of the Castle and the High Sheriffwent through a short ceremony, the military officer theredelivering over the persons of the criminals to the civil power.'God save King George!' said the High Sheriff. When the formalityconcluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and, with a firm andsteady voice, replied,' God save King JAMES!' These were the lastwords which Waverley heard him speak.

  The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished frombeneath the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant. Thedead march was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were mingledwith those of a muffled peal tolled from the neighbouringcathedral. The sound of military music died away as the processionmoved on; the sullen clang of the bells was soon heard to soundalone.

  The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under thevaulted archway through which they had been filing for severalminutes; the court-yard was now totally empty, but Waverley stillstood there as if stupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark passwhere he had so lately seen the last glimpse of his friend. Atlength a female servant of the governor's, struck with compassion,at the stupefied misery which his countenance expressed, asked himif he would not walk into her master's house and sit down? She wasobliged to repeat her question twice ere he comprehended her, butat length it recalled him to himself. Declining the courtesy by ahasty gesture, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, leaving theCastle, walked as swiftly as he could through the empty streetstill he regained his inn, then rushed into an apartment and boltedthe door.

  In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterablesuspense, the sound of the drums and fifes performing a livelyair, and the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled thestreets, so lately deserted, apprised him that all was finished,and that the military and populace were returning from thedreadful scene. I will not attempt to describe his sensations.

  In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him thathe did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him thatFergus Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered hisfriendship to the last. He added, he had also seen Flora, whosestate of mind seemed more composed since all was over. With herand sister Theresa the priest proposed next day to leave Carlislefor the nearest seaport from which they could embark for France.Waverley forced on this good man a ring of some value and a sum ofmoney to be employed (as he thought might gratify Flora) in theservices of the Catholic church for the memory of his 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 ofthe dead?'

  The next morning ere daylight he took leave of the town ofCarlisle, promising to himself never again to enter its walls. Hedared hardly look back towards the Gothic battlements of thefortified gate under which he passed, for the place is surroundedwith an old wall. 'They're no there,' said Alick Polwarth, whoguessed the cause of the dubious look which Waverley castbackward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for the horrible, wasmaster of each detail of the butchery--'the heads are ower theScotch yate, as they ca' it. It's a great pity of Evan Dhu, whowas a very weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman;and indeed so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter,when he wasna in ane o' his tirrivies.'