The Fair Maid of Perth; Or, St. Valentine's Day

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  The hour is nigh: now hearts beat high; Each sword is sharpen'd well; And who dares die, who stoops to fly, Tomorrow's light shall tell.

  Sir Edwald.

  We are now to recall to our reader's recollection, that Simon Glover andhis fair daughter had been hurried from their residence without havingtime to announce to Henry Smith either their departure or the alarmingcause of it. When, therefore, the lover appeared in Curfew Street, onthe morning of their flight, instead of the hearty welcome of the honestburgher, and the April reception, half joy half censure, which he hadbeen promised on the part of his lovely daughter, he received only theastounding intelligence, that her father and she had set off early, onthe summons of a stranger, who had kept himself carefully muffled fromobservation. To this, Dorothy, whose talents for forestalling evil, andcommunicating her views of it, are known to the reader, chose to add,that she had no doubt her master and young mistress were bound for theHighlands, to avoid a visit which had been made since their departure bytwo or three apparitors, who, in the name of a Commission appointed bythe King, had searched the house, put seals upon such places as weresupposed to contain papers, and left citations for father and daughterto appear before the Court of Commission, on a day certain, under painof outlawry. All these alarming particulars Dorothy took care to statein the gloomiest colours, and the only consolation which she affordedthe alarmed lover was, that her master had charged her to tell him toreside quietly at Perth, and that he should soon hear news of them. Thischecked the smith's first resolve, which was to follow them instantly tothe Highlands, and partake the fate which they might encounter.

  But when he recollected his repeated feuds with divers of the ClanQuhele, and particularly his personal quarrel with Conachar, who was nowraised to be a high chief, he could not but think, on reflection, thathis intrusion on their place of retirement was more likely to disturbthe safety which they might otherwise enjoy there than be of any serviceto them. He was well acquainted with Simon's habitual intimacy withthe chief of the Clan Quhele, and justly augured that the glover wouldobtain protection, which his own arrival might be likely to disturb,while his personal prowess could little avail him in a quarrel witha whole tribe of vindictive mountaineers. At the same time his heartthrobbed with indignation, when he thought of Catharine being within theabsolute power of young Conachar, whose rivalry he could not doubt, andwho had now so many means of urging his suit. What if the young chiefshould make the safety of the father depend on the favour of thedaughter? He distrusted not Catharine's affections, but then her modeof thinking was so disinterested, and her attachment to her father sotender, that, if the love she bore her suitor was weighed against hissecurity, or perhaps his life, it was matter of deep and awful doubtwhether it might not be found light in the balance. Tormented bythoughts on which we need not dwell, he resolved nevertheless toremain at home, stifle his anxiety as he might, and await the promisedintelligence from the old man. It came, but it did not relieve hisconcern.

  Sir Patrick Charteris had not forgotten his promise to communicate tothe smith the plans of the fugitives. But, amid the bustle occasioned bythe movement of troops, he could not himself convey the intelligence.He therefore entrusted to his agent, Kitt Henshaw, the task of making itknown. But this worthy person, as the reader knows, was in the interestof Ramorny, whose business it was to conceal from every one, butespecially from a lover so active and daring as Henry, the real place ofCatharine's residence. Henshaw therefore announced to the anxious smiththat his friend the glover was secure in the Highlands; and though heaffected to be more reserved on the subject of Catharine, he said littleto contradict the belief that she as well as Simon shared the protectionof the Clan Quhele. But he reiterated, in the name of Sir Patrick,assurances that father and daughter were both well, and that Henry wouldbest consult his own interest and their safety by remaining quiet andwaiting the course of events.

  With an agonized heart, therefore, Henry Gow determined to remain quiettill he had more certain intelligence, and employed himself in finishinga shirt of mail, which he intended should be the best tempered and themost finely polished that his skilful hands had ever executed. Thisexercise of his craft pleased him better than any other occupation whichhe could have adopted, and served as an apology for secluding himselfin his workshop, and shunning society, where the idle reports which weredaily circulated served only to perplex and disturb him. He resolved totrust in the warm regard of Simon, the faith of his daughter, and thefriendship of the provost, who, having so highly commended his valourin the combat with Bonthron, would never, he thought, desert him at thisextremity of his fortunes. Time, however, passed on day by day; andit was not till Palm Sunday was near approaching, that Sir PatrickCharteris, having entered the city to make some arrangements for theensuing combat, bethought himself of making a visit to the Smith of theWynd.

  He entered his workshop with an air of sympathy unusual to him, andwhich made Henry instantly augur that he brought bad news. The smithcaught the alarm, and the uplifted hammer was arrested in its descentupon the heated iron, while the agitated arm that wielded it, strongbefore as that of a giant, became so powerless, that it was withdifficulty Henry was able to place the weapon on the ground, instead ofdropping it from his hand.

  "My poor Henry," said Sir Patrick, "I bring you but cold news; they areuncertain, however, and, if true, they are such as a brave man like youshould not take too deeply to heart."

  "In God's name, my lord," said Henry, "I trust you bring no evil news ofSimon Glover or his daughter?"

  "Touching themselves," said Sir Patrick, "no: they are safe and well.But as to thee, Henry, my tidings are more cold. Kitt Henshaw has, Ithink, apprised thee that I had endeavoured to provide Catharine Gloverwith a safe protection in the house of an honourable lady, the Duchessof Rothsay. But she hath declined the charge, and Catharine hath beensent to her father in the Highlands. What is worst is to come. Thoumayest have heard that Gilchrist MacIan is dead, and that his sonEachin, who was known in Perth as the apprentice of old Simon, by thename of Conachar, is now the chief of Clan Quhele; and I heard from oneof my domestics that there is a strong rumour among the MacIans that theyoung chief seeks the hand of Catharine in marriage. My domestic learnedthis--as a secret, however--while in the Breadalbane country, on somearrangements touching the ensuing combat. The thing is uncertain but,Henry, it wears a face of likelihood."

  "Did your lordship's servant see Simon Glover and his daughter?" saidHenry, struggling for breath, and coughing, to conceal from the provostthe excess of his agitation.

  "He did not," said Sir Patrick; "the Highlanders seemed jealous, andrefused to permit him to speak to the old man, and he feared to alarmthem by asking to see Catharine. Besides, he talks no Gaelic, nor hadhis informer much English, so there may be some mistake in the matter.Nevertheless, there is such a report, and I thought it best to tell ityou. But you may be well assured that the wedding cannot go on till theaffair of Palm Sunday be over; and I advise you to take no step till welearn the circumstances of the matter, for certainty is most desirable,even when it is painful. Go you to the council house," he added, after apause, "to speak about the preparations for the lists in the North Inch?You will be welcome there."

  "No, my good lord."

  "Well, Smith, I judge by your brief answer that you are discomposed withthis matter; but, after all, women are weathercocks, that is the truthon't. Solomon and others have proved it before you."

  And so Sir Patrick Charteris retired, fully convinced he had dischargedthe office of a comforter in the most satisfactory manner.

  With very different impressions did the unfortunate lover regard thetidings and listen to the consoling commentary.

  "The provost," he said bitterly to himself, "is an excellent man; marry,he holds his knighthood so high, that, if he speaks nonsense, a poor manmust hold it sense, as he must praise dead ale if it be handed to himin his lordship's silver flagon. How would all this soun
d in anothersituation? Suppose I were rolling down the steep descent of theCorrichie Dhu, and before I came to the edge of the rock, comes my LordProvost, and cries: 'Henry, there is a deep precipice, and I grieve tosay you are in the fair way of rolling over it. But be not downcast,for Heaven may send a stone or a bush to stop your progress. However, Ithought it would be comfort to you to know the worst, which you willbe presently aware of. I do not know how many hundred feet deep theprecipice descends, but you may form a judgment when you are at thebottom, for certainty is certainty. And hark ye! when come you to takea game at bowls?' And this gossip is to serve instead of any friendlyattempt to save the poor wight's neck! When I think of this, I could gomad, seize my hammer, and break and destroy all around me. But I willbe calm; and if this Highland kite, who calls himself a falcon, shouldstoop at my turtle dove, he shall know whether a burgess of Perth candraw a bow or not."

  It was now the Thursday before the fated Palm Sunday, and the championson either side were expected to arrive the next day, that they mighthave the interval of Saturday to rest, refresh themselves, and preparefor the combat. Two or three of each of the contending parties weredetached to receive directions about the encampment of their littleband, and such other instructions as might be necessary to the properordering of the field. Henry was not, therefore, surprised at seeing atall and powerful Highlander peering anxiously about the wynd in whichhe lived, in the manner in which the natives of a wild country examinethe curiosities of one that is more civilized. The smith's heart roseagainst the man on account of his country, to which our Perth burgherbore a natural prejudice, and more especially as he observed theindividual wear the plaid peculiar to the Clan Quhele. The sprig of oakleaves, worked in silk, intimated also that the individual was oneof those personal guards of young Eachin, upon whose exertions in thefuture battle so much reliance was placed by those of their clan.

  Having observed so much, Henry withdrew into his smithy, for the sightof the man raised his passion; and, knowing that the Highlander cameplighted to a solemn combat, and could not be the subject of anyinferior quarrel, he was resolved at least to avoid friendly intercoursewith him. In a few minutes, however, the door of the smithy flew open,and flattering in his tartans, which greatly magnified his actual size,the Gael entered with the haughty step of a man conscious of a personaldignity superior to anything which he is likely to meet with. He stoodlooking around him, and seemed to expect to be received with courtesyand regarded with wonder. But Henry had no sort of inclination toindulge his vanity and kept hammering away at a breastplate which waslying upon his anvil as if he were not aware of his visitor's presence.

  "You are the Gow Chrom?" (the bandy legged smith), said the Highlander.

  "Those that wish to be crook backed call me so," answered Henry.

  "No offence meant," said the Highlander; "but her own self comes to buyan armour."

  "Her own self's bare shanks may trot hence with her," answered Henry; "Ihave none to sell."

  "If it was not within two days of Palm Sunday, herself would make yousing another song," retorted the Gael.

  "And being the day it is," said Henry, with the same contemptuousindifference, "I pray you to stand out of my light."

  "You are an uncivil person; but her own self is fir nan ord too; and sheknows the smith is fiery when the iron is hot."

  "If her nainsell be hammer man herself, her nainsell may make her nainharness," replied Henry.

  "And so her nainsell would, and never fash you for the matter; but itis said, Gow Chrom, that you sing and whistle tunes over the swords andharnishes that you work, that have power to make the blades cut steellinks as if they were paper, and the plate and mail turn back steellances as if they were boddle prins?"

  "They tell your ignorance any nonsense that Christian men refuse tobelieve," said Henry. "I whistle at my work whatever comes uppermost,like an honest craftsman, and commonly it is the Highlandman's 'Och honefor Houghman stares!' My hammer goes naturally to that tune."

  "Friend, it is but idle to spur a horse when his legs are ham shackled,"said the Highlander, haughtily. "Her own self cannot fight even now, andthere is little gallantry in taunting her thus."

  "By nails and hammer, you are right there," said the smith, altering histone. "But speak out at once, friend, what is it thou wouldst have ofme? I am in no humour for dallying."

  "A hauberk for her chief, Eachin MacIan," said the Highlander.

  "You are a hammer man, you say? Are you a judge of this?" said oursmith, producing from a chest the mail shirt on which he had been latelyemployed.

  The Gael handled it with a degree of admiration which had something ofenvy in it. He looked curiously at every part of its texture, and atlength declared it the very best piece of armour that he had ever seen.

  "A hundred cows and bullocks and a good drift of sheep would be e'enower cheap an offer," said the Highlandman, by way of tentative; "buther nainsell will never bid thee less, come by them how she can."

  "It is a fair proffer," replied Henry; "but gold nor gear will never buythat harness. I want to try my own sword on my own armour, and I willnot give that mail coat to any one but who will face me for the best ofthree blows and a thrust in the fair field; and it is your chief's uponthese terms."

  "Hut, prut, man--take a drink and go to bed," said the Highlander, ingreat scorn. "Are ye mad? Think ye the captain of the Clan Quhele willbe brawling and battling with a bit Perth burgess body like you? Whisht,man, and hearken. Her nainsell will do ye mair credit than ever belongedto your kin. She will fight you for the fair harness hersell."

  "She must first show that she is my match," said Henry, with a grimsmile.

  "How! I, one of Eachin MacIan's leichtach, and not your match!"

  "You may try me, if you will. You say you are a fir nan ord. Do you knowhow to cast a sledge hammer?"

  "Ay, truly--ask the eagle if he can fly over Farragon."

  "But before you strive with me, you must first try a cast with one of myleichtach. Here, Dunter, stand forth for the honour of Perth! And now,Highlandman, there stands a row of hammers; choose which you will, andlet us to the garden."

  The Highlander whose name was Norman nan Ord, or Norman of the Hammer,showed his title to the epithet by selecting the largest hammer of theset, at which Henry smiled. Dunter, the stout journeyman of the smith,made what was called a prodigious cast; but the Highlander, making adesperate effort, threw beyond it by two or three feet, and looked withan air of triumph to Henry, who again smiled in reply.

  "Will you mend that?" said the Gael, offering our smith the hammer.

  "Not with that child's toy," said Henry, "which has scarce weight tofly against the wind. Jannekin, fetch me Sampson; or one of you help theboy, for Sampson is somewhat ponderous."

  The hammer now produced was half as heavy again as that which theHighlander had selected as one of unusual weight. Norman stoodastonished; but he was still more so when Henry, taking his position,swung the ponderous implement far behind his right haunch joint, anddismissed it from his hand as if it had flown from a warlike engine. Theair groaned and whistled as the mass flew through it. Down at length itcame, and the iron head sunk a foot into the earth, a full yard beyondthe cast of Norman.

  The Highlander, defeated and mortified, went to the spot where theweapon lay, lifted it, poised it in his hand with great wonder, andexamined it closely, as if he expected to discover more in it than acommon hammer. He at length returned it to the owner with a melancholysmile, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head as the smith askedhim whether he would not mend his cast.

  "Norman has lost too much at the sport already," he replied. "She haslost her own name of the Hammerer. But does her own self, the Gow Chrom,work at the anvil with that horse's load of iron?"

  "You shall see, brother," said Henry, leading the way to the smithy."Dunter," he said, "rax me that bar from the furnace"; and upliftingSampson, as he called the monstrous hammer, he plied the metal with ahundred strokes from right to left--
now with the right hand, now withthe left, now with both, with so much strength at once and dexterity,that he worked off a small but beautifully proportioned horseshoe inhalf the time that an ordinary smith would have taken for the samepurpose, using a more manageable implement.

  "Oigh--oigh!" said the Highlander, "and what for would you be fightingwith our young chief, who is far above your standard, though you werethe best smith ever wrought with wind and fire?"

  "Hark you!" said Henry; "you seem a good fellow, and I'll tell you thetruth. Your master has wronged me, and I give him this harness freelyfor the chance of fighting him myself."

  "Nay, if he hath wronged you he must meet you," said the life guardsman."To do a man wrong takes the eagle's feather out of the chief's bonnet;and were he the first in the Highlands, and to be sure so is Eachin,he must fight the man he has wronged, or else a rose falls from hischaplet."

  "Will you move him to this," said Henry, "after the fight on Sunday?"

  "Oh, her nainsell will do her best, if the hawks have not got hernainsell's bones to pick; for you must know, brother, that ClanChattan's claws pierce rather deep."

  "The armour is your chief's on that condition," said Henry; "but I willdisgrace him before king and court if he does not pay me the price."

  "Deil a fear--deil a fear; I will bring him in to the barrace myself,"said Norman, "assuredly."

  "You will do me a pleasure," replied Henry; "and that you may rememberyour promise, I will bestow on you this dirk. Look--if you hold ittruly, and can strike between the mail hood and the collar of yourenemy, the surgeon will be needless."

  The Highlander was lavish in his expressions of gratitude, and took hisleave.

  "I have given him the best mail harness I ever wrought," said the smithto himself, rather repenting his liberality, "for the poor chancethat he will bring his chief into a fair field with me; and then letCatharine be his who can win her fairly. But much I dread the youth willfind some evasion, unless he have such luck on Palm Sunday as may inducehim to try another combat. That is some hope, however; for I have often,ere now, seen a raw young fellow shoot up after his first fight from adwarf into a giant queller."

  Thus, with little hope, but with the most determined resolution, HenrySmith awaited the time that should decide his fate. What made him augurthe worst was the silence both of the glover and of his daughter.

  "They are ashamed," he said, "to confess the truth to me, and thereforethey are silent."

  Upon the Friday at noon, the two bands of thirty men each, representingthe contending clans, arrived at the several points where they were tohalt for refreshments.

  The Clan Quhele was entertained hospitably at the rich abbey of Scone,while the provost regaled their rivals at his Castle of Kinfauns, theutmost care being taken to treat both parties with the most punctiliousattention, and to afford neither an opportunity of complaining ofpartiality. All points of etiquette were, in the mean while, discussedand settled by the Lord High Constable Errol and the young Earl ofCrawford, the former acting on the part of the Clan Chattan and thelatter patronising the Clan Quhele. Messengers were passing continuallyfrom the one earl to the other, and they held more than: six meetingswithin thirty hours, before the ceremonial of the field could be exactlyarranged.

  Meanwhile, in case of revival of ancient quarrel, many seeds ofwhich existed betwixt the burghers and their mountain neighbours, aproclamation commanded the citizens not to approach within half a mileof the place where the Highlanders were quartered; while on their partthe intended combatants were prohibited from approaching Perth withoutspecial license. Troops were stationed to enforce this order, who didtheir charge so scrupulously as to prevent Simon Glover himself, burgessand citizen of Perth, from approaching the town, because he owned havingcome thither at the same time with the champions of Eachin MacIan, andwore a plaid around him of their check or pattern. This interruptionprevented Simon from seeking out Henry Wynd and possessing him with atrue knowledge of all that had happened since their separation, whichintercourse, had it taken place, must have materially altered thecatastrophe of our narrative.

  On Saturday afternoon another arrival took place, which interested thecity almost as much as the preparations for the expected combat. Thiswas the approach of the Earl Douglas, who rode through the town with atroop of only thirty horse, but all of whom were knights and gentlemenof the first consequence. Men's eyes followed this dreaded peer as theypursue the flight of an eagle through the clouds, unable to ken thecourse of the bird of Jove yet silent, attentive, and as earnest inobserving him as if they could guess the object for which he sweepsthrough the firmament; He rode slowly through the city, and passed outat the northern gate. He next alighted at the Dominican convent anddesired to see the Duke of Albany. The Earl was introduced instantly,and received by the Duke with a manner which was meant to be gracefuland conciliatory, but which could not conceal both art and inquietude.When the first greetings were over, the Earl said with great gravity:"I bring you melancholy news. Your Grace's royal nephew, the Duke ofRothsay, is no more, and I fear hath perished by some foul practices."

  "Practices!" said the Duke' in confusion--"what practices? Who daredpractise on the heir of the Scottish throne?"

  "'Tis not for me to state how these doubts arise," said Douglas; "butmen say the eagle was killed with an arrow fledged from his own wing,and the oak trunk rent by a wedge of the same wood."

  "Earl of Douglas," said the Duke of Albany, "I am no reader of riddles."

  "Nor am I a propounder of them," said Douglas, haughtily, "Your Gracewill find particulars in these papers worthy of perusal. I will go forhalf an hour to the cloister garden, and then rejoin you."

  "You go not to the King, my lord?" said Albany.

  "No," answered Douglas; "I trust your Grace will agree with me that weshould conceal this great family misfortune from our sovereign till thebusiness of tomorrow be decided."

  "I willingly agree," said Albany. "If the King heard of this loss, hecould not witness the combat; and if he appear not in person, these menare likely to refuse to fight, and the whole work is cast loose. ButI pray you sit down, my lord, while I read these melancholy papersrespecting poor Rothsay."

  He passed the papers through his hands, turning some over with a hastyglance, and dwelling on others as if their contents had been of thelast importance. When he had spent nearly a quarter of an hour in thismanner, he raised his eyes, and said very gravely: "My lord, in thesemost melancholy documents, it is yet a comfort to see nothing which canrenew the divisions in the King's councils, which were settled by thelast solemn agreement between your lordship and myself. My unhappynephew was by that agreement to be set aside, until time should send hima graver judgment. He is now removed by Fate, and our purpose in thatmatter is anticipated and rendered unnecessary."

  "If your Grace," replied the Earl, "sees nothing to disturb the goodunderstanding which the tranquillity and safety of Scotland requireshould exist between us, I am not so ill a friend of my country as tolook closely for such."

  "I understand you, my Lord of Douglas," said Albany, eagerly. "Youhastily judged that I should be offended with your lordship forexercising your powers of lieutenancy, and punishing the detestablemurderers within my territory of Falkland. Credit me, on the contrary, Iam obliged to your lordship for taking out of my hands the punishment ofthese wretches, as it would have broken my heart even to have lookedon them. The Scottish Parliament will inquire, doubtless, into thissacrilegious deed; and happy am I that the avenging sword has beenin the hand of a man so important as your lordship. Our communicationtogether, as your lordship must well recollect, bore only concerning aproposed restraint of my unfortunate nephew until the advance of a yearor two had taught him discretion?"

  "Such was certainly your Grace's purpose, as expressed to me," said theEarl; "I can safely avouch it."

  "Why, then, noble earl, we cannot be censured because villains, fortheir own revengeful ends, appear to have engrafted a bloody terminationon our hon
est purpose?"

  "The Parliament will judge it after their wisdom," said Douglas. "For mypart, my conscience acquits me."

  "And mine assoilzies me," said the Duke with solemnity. "Now, my lord,touching the custody of the boy James, who succeeds to his father'sclaims of inheritance?"

  "The King must decide it," said Douglas, impatient of the conference."I will consent to his residence anywhere save at Stirling, Doune, orFalkland."

  With that he left the apartment abruptly.

  "He is gone," muttered the crafty Albany, "and he must be my ally, yetfeels himself disposed to be my mortal foe. No matter, Rothsay sleepswith his fathers, James may follow in time, and then--a crown is therecompense of my perplexities."