by Walter Scott
CHAPTER V.
I do love these ancient ruins-- We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history; And, questionless, here, in this open court, (Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather,) some men lie interr'd, Loved the Church so well, and gave so largely to it, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday;--but all things have their end-- Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, Must have like death which we have.
_Duchess of Malfy._
The ruinous church of Saint Ninian had, in its time, enjoyed greatcelebrity; for that mighty system of Roman superstition, which spreadits roots over all Europe, had not failed to extend them even to thisremote archipelago, and Zetland had, in the Catholic times, her saints,her shrines, and her relics, which, though little known elsewhere,attracted the homage, and commanded the observance, of the simpleinhabitants of Thule. Their devotion to this church of Saint Ninian, or,as he was provincially termed, Saint Ringan, situated, as the edificewas, close to the sea-beach, and serving, in many points, as a landmarkto their boats, was particularly obstinate, and was connected with somuch superstitious ceremonial and credulity, that the reformed clergythought it best, by an order of the Church Courts, to prohibit allspiritual service within its walls, as tending to foster the rootedfaith of the simple and rude people around in saint-worship, and othererroneous doctrines of the Romish Church.
After the Church of Saint Ninian had been thus denounced as a seat ofidolatry, and desecrated of course, the public worship was transferredto another church; and the roof, with its lead and its rafters, havingbeen stripped from the little rude old Gothic building, it was left inthe wilderness to the mercy of the elements. The fury of theuncontrolled winds, which howled along an exposed space, resembling thatwhich we have described at Jarlshof, very soon choked up nave and aisle,and, on the north-west side, which was chiefly exposed to the wind, hidthe outside walls more than half way up with mounds of drifted sand,over which the gable-ends of the building, with the little belfry, whichwas built above its eastern angle, arose in ragged and shatterednakedness of ruin.
Yet, deserted as it was, the Kirk of Saint Ringan still retained somesemblance of the ancient homage formerly rendered there. The rude andignorant fishermen of Dunrossness observed a practice, of which theythemselves had wellnigh forgotten the origin, and from which theProtestant Clergy in vain endeavoured to deter them. When their boatswere in extreme peril, it was common amongst them to propose to vow an_awmous_, as they termed it, that is, an alms, to Saint Ringan; and whenthe danger was over, they never failed to absolve themselves of theirvow, by coming singly and secretly to the old church, and putting offtheir shoes and stockings at the entrance of the churchyard, walkingthrice around the ruins, observing that they did so in the course of thesun. When the circuit was accomplished for the third time, the votarydropped his offering, usually a small silver coin, through the mullionsof a lanceolated window, which opened into a side aisle, and thenretired, avoiding carefully to look behind him till he was beyond theprecincts which had once been hallowed ground; for it was believed thatthe skeleton of the saint received the offering in his bony hand, andshowed his ghastly death's-head at the window into which it was thrown.
Indeed, the scene was rendered more appalling to weak and ignorantminds, because the same stormy and eddying winds, which, on the one sideof the church, threatened to bury the ruins with sand, and had, in fact,heaped it up in huge quantities, so as almost to hide the side-wall withits buttresses, seemed in other places bent on uncovering the graves ofthose who had been laid to their long rest on the south-eastern quarter;and, after an unusually hard gale, the coffins, and sometimes the verycorpses, of those who had been interred without the usual cerements,were discovered, in a ghastly manner, to the eyes of the living.
It was to this desolated place of worship that the elder Mertoun nowproceeded, though without any of those religious or superstitiouspurposes with which the church of Saint Ringan was usually approached.He was totally without the superstitious fears of the country,--nay,from the sequestered and sullen manner in which he lived, withdrawinghimself from human society even when assembled for worship, it was thegeneral opinion that he erred on the more fatal side, and believedrather too little than too much of that which the Church receives andenjoins to Christians.
As he entered the little bay, on the shore, and almost on the beach ofwhich the ruins are situated, he could not help pausing for an instant,and becoming sensible that the scene, as calculated to operate on humanfeelings, had been selected with much judgment as the site of areligious house. In front lay the sea, into which two headlands, whichformed the extremities of the bay, projected their gigantic causeways ofdark and sable rocks, on the ledges of which the gulls, scouries, andother sea-fowl, appeared like flakes of snow; while, upon the lowerranges of the cliff, stood whole lines of cormorants, drawn up alongsideof each other, like soldiers in their battle array, and other livingthing was there none to see. The sea, although not in a tempestuousstate, was disturbed enough to rush on these capes with a sound likedistant thunder, and the billows, which rose in sheets of foam half wayup these sable rocks, formed a contrast of colouring equally strikingand awful.
Betwixt the extremities, or capes, of these projecting headlands, thererolled, on the day when Mertoun visited the scene, a deep and denseaggregation of clouds, through which no human eye could penetrate, andwhich, bounding the vision, and excluding all view of the distant ocean,rendered it no unapt representation of the sea in the Vision of Mirzawhose extent was concealed by vapours, and clouds, and storms. Theground rising steeply from the sea-beach, permitting no view into theinterior of the country, appeared a scene of irretrievable barrenness,where scrubby and stunted heath, intermixed with the long bent, orcoarse grass, which first covers sandy soils, were the only vegetablesthat could be seen. Upon a natural elevation, which rose above the beachin the very bottom of the bay, and receded a little from the sea, so asto be without reach of the waves, arose the half-buried ruin which wehave already described, surrounded by a wasted, half-ruinous, andmouldering wall, which, breached in several places, served still todivide the precincts of the cemetery. The mariners who were driven byaccident into this solitary bay, pretended that the church wasoccasionally observed to be full of lights, and, from that circumstance,were used to prophesy shipwrecks and deaths by sea.
As Mertoun approached near to the chapel, he adopted, insensibly, andperhaps without much premeditation, measures to avoid being himselfseen, until he came close under the walls of the burial-ground, which heapproached, as it chanced, on that side where the sand was blowing fromthe graves, in the manner we have described.
Here, looking through one of the gaps in the wall which time had made,he beheld the person whom he sought, occupied in a manner which assortedwell with the ideas popularly entertained of her character, but whichwas otherwise sufficiently extraordinary.
She was employed beside a rude monument, on one side of which wasrepresented the rough outline of a cavalier, or knight, on horseback,while, on the other, appeared a shield, with the armorial bearings sodefaced as not to be intelligible; which escutcheon was suspended by oneangle, contrary to the modern custom, which usually places them straightand upright. At the foot of this pillar was believed to repose, asMertoun had formerly heard, the bones of Ribolt Troil, one of the remoteancestors of Magnus, and a man renowned for deeds of valorous emprize inthe fifteenth century. From the grave of this warrior Norna of theFitful-head seemed busied in shovelling the sand, an easy task where itwas so light and loose; so that it seemed plain that she would shortlycomplete what the rude winds had begun, and make bare the bones whichlay there interred. As she laboured, she muttered her magic song; forwithout the Runic rhyme no form of northern superstition was everperformed. We have perhaps preserved too many examples of theseincantations; but we cannot help attempting to translate that whichfollows:--
"Champion, famed for warlike toil, Art thou silent, Ribolt Troil? Sand, and dust, and pebbly stones, Are leaving bare thy giant bones. Who dared touch the wild-bear's skin Ye slumber'd on while life was in?-- A woman now, or babe, may come, And cast the covering from thy tomb.
"Yet be not wrathful, Chief, nor blight Mine eyes or ears with sound or sight! I come not, with unhallow'd tread, To wake the slumbers of the dead, Or lay thy giant relics bare; But what I seek thou well canst spare. Be it to my hand allow'd To shear a merk's weight from thy shroud; Yet leave thee sheeted lead enough To shield thy bones from weather rough.
"See, I draw my magic knife-- Never while thou wert in life Laid'st thou still for sloth or fear, When point and edge were glittering near; See, the cerements now I sever-- Waken now, or sleep for ever! Thou wilt not wake? the deed is done!-- The prize I sought is fairly won.
"Thanks, Ribolt, thanks,--for this the sea Shall smooth its ruffled crest for thee,-- And while afar its billows foam, Subside to peace near Ribolt's tomb. Thanks, Ribolt, thanks--for this the might Of wild winds raging at their height, When to thy place of slumber nigh, Shall soften to a lullaby.
"She, the dame of doubt and dread, Norna of the Fitful-head, Mighty in her own despite-- Miserable in her might; In despair and frenzy great,-- In her greatness desolate; Wisest, wickedest who lives, Well can keep the word she gives."
While Norna chanted the first part of this rhyme, she completed the taskof laying bare a part of the leaden coffin of the ancient warrior, andsevered from it, with much caution and apparent awe, a portion of themetal. She then reverentially threw back the sand upon the coffin; andby the time she had finished her song, no trace remained that thesecrets of the sepulchre had been violated.
Mertoun remained gazing on her from behind the churchyard wall duringthe whole ceremony, not from any impression of veneration for her or heremployment, but because he conceived that to interrupt a madwoman in heract of madness, was not the best way to obtain from her suchintelligence as she might have to impart. Meanwhile he had full time toconsider her figure, although her face was obscured by her dishevelledhair, and by the hood of her dark mantle, which permitted no more to bevisible than a Druidess would probably have exhibited at the celebrationof her mystical rites. Mertoun had often heard of Norna before; nay, itis most probable that he might have seen her repeatedly, for she hadbeen in the vicinity of Jarlshof more than once since his residencethere. But the absurd stories which were in circulation respecting her,prevented his paying any attention to a person whom he regarded aseither an impostor or a madwoman, or a compound of both. Yet, now thathis attention was, by circumstances, involuntarily fixed upon her personand deportment, he could not help acknowledging to himself that she waseither a complete enthusiast, or rehearsed her part so admirably, thatno Pythoness of ancient times could have excelled her. The dignity andsolemnity of her gesture,--the sonorous, yet impressive tone of voicewith which she addressed the departed spirit whose mortal relics sheventured to disturb, were such as failed not to make an impression uponhim, careless and indifferent as he generally appeared to all that wenton around him. But no sooner was her singular occupation terminated,than, entering the churchyard with some difficulty, by clambering overthe disjointed ruins of the wall, he made Norna aware of his presence.Far from starting, or expressing the least surprise at his appearance ina place so solitary, she said, in a tone that seemed to intimate that hehad been expected, "So,--you have sought me at last?"
"And found you," replied Mertoun, judging he would best introduce theenquiries he had to make, by assuming a tone which corresponded to herown.
"Yes!" she replied, "found me you have, and in the place where all menmust meet--amid the tabernacles of the dead."
"Here we must, indeed, meet at last," replied Mertoun, glancing hiseyes on the desolate scene around, where headstones, half covered insand, and others, from which the same wind had stripped the soil onwhich they rested, covered with inscriptions, and sculptured with theemblems of mortality, were the most conspicuous objects,--"here, as inthe house of death, all men must meet at length; and happy those thatcome soonest to the quiet haven."
"He that dares desire this haven," said Norna, "must have steered asteady course in the voyage of life. _I_ dare not hope for such quietharbour. Darest _thou_ expect it? or has the course thou hast keptdeserved it?"
"It matters not to my present purpose," replied Mertoun; "I have to askyou what tidings you know of my son Mordaunt Mertoun?"
"A father," replied the sibyl, "asks of a stranger what tidings she hasof his son! How should I know aught of him? the cormorant says not tothe mallard, where is my brood?"
"Lay aside this useless affectation of mystery," said Mertoun; "with thevulgar and ignorant it has its effect, but upon me it is thrown away.The people of Jarlshof have told me that you do know, or may know,something of Mordaunt Mertoun, who has not returned home after thefestival of Saint John's, held in the house of your relative, MagnusTroil. Give me such information, if indeed ye have it to give; and itshall be recompensed, if the means of recompense are in my power."
"The wide round of earth," replied Norna, "holds nothing that I wouldcall a recompense for the slightest word that I throw away upon a livingear. But for thy son, if thou wouldst see him in life, repair to theapproaching Fair of Kirkwall, in Orkney."
"And wherefore thither?" said Mertoun; "I know he had no purpose in thatdirection."
"We drive on the stream of fate," answered Norna, "without oar orrudder. You had no purpose this morning of visiting the Kirk of SaintRingan, yet you are here;--you had no purpose but a minute hence ofbeing at Kirkwall, and yet you will go thither."
"Not unless the cause is more distinctly explained to me. I am nobeliever, dame, in those who assert your supernatural powers."
"You shall believe in them ere we part," said Norna. "As yet you knowbut little of me, nor shall you know more. But I know enough of you, andcould convince you with one word that I do so."
"Convince me, then," said Mertoun; "for unless I am so convinced, thereis little chance of my following your counsel."
"Mark, then," said Norna, "what I have to say on your son's score, elsewhat I shall say to you on your own will banish every other thought fromyour memory. You shall go to the approaching Fair at Kirkwall; and, onthe fifth day of the Fair, you shall walk, at the hour of noon, in theouter aisle of the Cathedral of Saint Magnus, and there you shall meet aperson who will give you tidings of your son."
"You must speak more distinctly, dame," returned Mertoun, scornfully,"if you hope that I should follow your counsel. I have been fooled in mytime by women, but never so grossly as you seem willing to gull me."
"Hearken, then!" said the old woman. "The word which I speak shall touchthe nearest secret of thy life, and thrill thee through nerve and bone."
So saying, she whispered a word into Mertoun's ear, the effect of whichseemed almost magical. He remained fixed and motionless with surprise,as, waving her arm slowly aloft, with an air of superiority and triumph,Norna glided from him, turned round a corner of the ruins, and was soonout of sight.
Mertoun offered not to follow, or to trace her. "We fly from our fate invain!" he said, as he began to recover himself; and turning, he leftbehind him the desolate ruins with their cemetery. As he looked backfrom the very last point at which the church was visible, he saw thefigure of Norna, muffled in her mantle, standing on the very summit ofthe ruined tower, and stretching out in the sea-breeze something whichresembled a white pennon, or flag. A feeling of horror, similar to thatexcited by her last words, again thrilled through his bosom, and hehastened onwards with unwonted speed, until he had left the church ofSaint Ninian, with its bay of sand, far behind him.
Upon his arrival at Jarlshof, the alteration in his countenance was sogreat, that Swertha conjectured he was about to fall into one of thosefits of deep melancholy which she termed his dark hour.
"And what better could be expected," tho
ught Swertha, "when he mustneeds go visit Norna of the Fitful-head, when she was in the hauntedKirk of Saint Ringan's?"
But without testifying any other symptoms of an alienated mind, thanthat of deep and sullen dejection, her master acquainted her with hisintention to go to the Fair of Kirkwall,--a thing so contrary to hisusual habits, that the housekeeper wellnigh refused to credit her ears.Shortly after, he heard, with apparent indifference, the accountsreturned by the different persons who had been sent out in quest ofMordaunt, by sea and land, who all of them returned without any tidings.The equanimity with which Mertoun heard the report of their bad success,convinced Swertha still more firmly, that, in his interview with Norna,that issue had been predicted to him by the sibyl whom he had consulted.
The township were yet more surprised, when their tacksman, Mr. Mertoun,as if on some sudden resolution, made preparations to visit Kirkwallduring the Fair, although he had hitherto avoided sedulously all suchplaces of public resort. Swertha puzzled herself a good deal, withoutbeing able to penetrate this mystery; and vexed herself still moreconcerning the fate of her young master. But her concern was muchsoftened by the deposit of a sum of money, seeming, however moderate initself, a treasure in her eyes, which her master put into her hands,acquainting her at the same time, that he had taken his passage forKirkwall, in a small bark belonging to the proprietor of the island ofMousa.
