another to see the retainer of a nobleman die, for the slaughter
of a cuckoldly citizen. There will be a thousand of them round the
gibbet's foot."
"And were there ten thousand," said Dwining, "shall I, who am
a high clerk, and have studied in Spain, and Araby itself, not be
able to deceive the eyes of this hoggish herd of citizens, when
the pettiest juggler that ever dealt in legerdemain can gull even
the sharp observation of your most intelligent knighthood? I tell
you, I will put the change on them as if I were in possession of
Keddie's ring."
"If thou speakest truth," answered the knight, "and I think thou
darest not palter with me on such a theme, thou must have the aid
of Satan, and I will have nought to do with him. I disown and defy
him."
Dwining indulged in his internal chuckling laugh when he heard his
patron testify his defiance of the foul fiend, and saw him second
it by crossing himself. He composed himself, however, upon observing
Ramorny's aspect become very stern, and said, with tolerable gravity,
though a little interrupted by the effort necessary to suppress
his mirthful mood:
"Confederacy, most devout sir - confederacy is the soul of jugglery.
But - he, he, he! - I have not the honour to be - he, he! - an
ally of the gentleman of whom you speak - in whose existence I am
- he, he! - no very profound believer, though your knightship,
doubtless, hath better opportunities of acquaintance."
"Proceed, rascal, and without that sneer, which thou mayst otherwise
dearly pay for."
"I will, most undaunted," replied Dwining. "Know that I have my
confederate too, else my skill were little worth."
"And who may that be, pray you?"
"Stephen Smotherwell, if it like your honour, lockman of this Fair
City. I marvel your knighthood knows him not."
"And I marvel thy knaveship knows him not on professional
acquaintance," replied Ramorny; "but I see thy nose is unslit, thy
ears yet uncropped, and if thy shoulders are scarred or branded,
thou art wise for using a high collared jerkin."
"He, he! your honour is pleasant," said the mediciner. "It is not
by personal circumstances that I have acquired the intimacy of
Stephen Smotherwell, but on account of a certain traffic betwixt
us, in which an't please you, I exchange certain sums of silver
for the bodies, heads, and limbs of those who die by aid of friend
Stephen."
"Wretch!" exclaimed the knight with horror, "is it to compose charms
and forward works of witchcraft that you trade for these miserable
relics of mortality?"
"He, he, he! No, an it please your knighthood," answered the
mediciner, much amused with the ignorance of his patron; "but we,
who are knights of the scalpel, are accustomed to practise careful
carving of the limbs of defunct persons, which we call dissection,
whereby we discover, by examination of a dead member, how to deal
with one belonging to a living man, which hath become diseased through
injury or otherwise. Ah! if your honour saw my poor laboratory,
I could show you heads and hands, feet and lungs, which have been
long supposed to be rotting in the mould. The skull of Wallace,
stolen from London Bridge; the head of Sir Simon Fraser [the famous
ancestor of the Lovats, slain at Halidon Hill (executed in London
in 1306)], that never feared man; the lovely skull of the fair Katie
Logie [(should be Margaret Logie), the beautiful mistress of David
II]. Oh, had I but had the fortune to have preserved the chivalrous
hand of mine honoured patron!"
Out upon thee, slave! Thinkest thou to disgust me with thy catalogue
of horrors? Tell me at once where thy discourse drives. How can
thy traffic with the hangdog executioner be of avail to serve me,
or to help my servant Bonthron?"
"Nay, I do not recommend it to your knighthood, save in an extremity,"
replied Dwining. "But we will suppose the battle fought and our cock
beaten. Now we must first possess him with the certainty that, if
unable to gain the day, we will at least save him from the hangman,
provided he confess nothing which can prejudice your knighthood's
honour."
"Ha! ay, a thought strikes me," said Ramorny. "We can do more
than this, we can place a word in Bonthron's mouth that will be
troublesome enough to him whom I am bound to curse for being the
cause of my misfortune. Let us to the ban dog's kennel, and explain
to him what is to be done in every view of the question. If we can
persuade him to stand the bier ordeal, it may be a mere bugbear,
and in that case we are safe. If he take the combat, he is fierce
as a baited bear, and may, perchance, master his opponent; then
we are more than safe, we are avenged. If Bonthron himself is
vanquished, we will put thy device in exercise; and if thou canst
manage it cleanly; we may dictate his confession, take the advantage
of it, as I will show thee on further conference, and make a giant
stride towards satisfaction for my wrongs. Still there remains
one hazard. Suppose our mastiff mortally wounded in the lists, who
shall prevent his growling out some species of confession different
from what we would recommend?"
"Marry, that can his mediciner," said Dwining. "Let me wait on
him, and have the opportunity to lay but a finger on his wound,
and trust me he shall betray no confidence."
"Why, there's a willing fiend, that needs neither pushing nor
prompting!" said Ramorny.
"As I trust I shall need neither in your knighthood's service."
"We will go indoctrinate our agent," continued the knight. "We shall
find him pliant; for, hound as he is, he knows those who feed from
those who browbeat him; and he holds a late royal master of mine
in deep hate for some injurious treatment and base terms which he
received at his hand. I must also farther concert with thee the
particulars of thy practice, for saving the ban dog from the hands
of the herd of citizens."
We leave this worthy pair of friends to their secret practices, of
which we shall afterwards see the results. They were, although of
different qualities, as well matched for device and execution of
criminal projects as the greyhound is to destroy the game which
the slowhound raises, or the slowhound to track the prey which
the gazehound discovers by the eye. Pride and selfishness were the
characteristics of both; but, from the difference of rank, education,
and talents, they had assumed the most different appearance in the
two individuals.
Nothing could less resemble the high blown ambition of the favourite
courtier, the successful gallant, and the bold warrior than the
submissive, unassuming mediciner, who seemed even to court and
delight in insult; whilst, in his secret soul, he felt himself
possessed of a superiority of knowledge, a power both of science
and of mind, which placed the rude nobles of the day infinitely
beneath him. So conscious was Henbane Dwining of this elevation,
that, like a keeper of wild beasts, he sometimes adventured, for
his own amusement, to rouse the stormy passions of such men as
Ramorny, trusting, with his humble manner, to elude the turmoil he
had excited, as an Indian boy will launch his light canoe, secure
from its very fragility, upon a broken surf, in which the boat
of an argosy would be assuredly dashed to pieces. That the feudal
baron should despise the humble practitioner in medicine was a
matter of course; but Ramorny felt not the less the influence which
Dwining exercised over him, and was in the encounter of their wits
often mastered by him, as the most eccentric efforts of a fiery
horse are overcome by a boy of twelve years old, if he has been
bred to the arts of the manege. But the contempt of Dwining for
Ramorny was far less qualified. He regarded the knight, in comparison
with himself, as scarcely rising above the brute creation; capable,
indeed, of working destruction, as the bull with his horns or the
wolf with his fangs, but mastered by mean prejudices, and a slave
to priest craft, in which phrase Dwining included religion of every
kind. On the whole, he considered Ramorny as one whom nature had
assigned to him as a serf, to mine for the gold which he worshipped,
and the avaricious love of which was his greatest failing, though
by no means his worst vice. He vindicated this sordid tendency in
his own eyes by persuading himself that it had its source in the
love of power.
"Henbane Dwining," he said, as he gazed in delight upon the hoards
which he had secretly amassed, and which he visited from time to
time, "is no silly miser that doats on those pieces for their golden
lustre: it is the power with which they endow the possessor which
makes him thus adore them. What is there that these put not within
your command? Do you love beauty, and are mean, deformed, infirm,
and old? Here is a lure the fairest hawk of them all will stoop to.
Are you feeble, weak, subject to the oppression of the powerful?
Here is that will arm in your defence those more mighty than the
petty tyrant whom you fear. Are you splendid in your wishes, and
desire the outward show of opulence? This dark chest contains many
a wide range of hill and dale, many a fair forest full of game, the
allegiance of a thousand vassals. Wish you for favour in courts,
temporal or spiritual? The smiles of kings, the pardon of popes and
priests for old crimes, and the indulgence which encourages priest
ridden fools to venture on new ones - all these holy incentives
to vice may be purchased for gold. Revenge itself, which the gods
are said to reserve to themselves, doubtless because they envy
humanity so sweet a morsel - revenge itself is to be bought by it.
But it is also to be won by superior skill, and that is the nobler
mode of reaching it. I will spare, then, my treasure for other uses,
and accomplish my revenge gratis; or rather I will add the luxury
of augmented wealth to the triumph of requited wrongs."
Thus thought Dwining, as, returned from his visit to Sir John Ramorny,
he added the gold he had received for his various services to the
mass of his treasure; and, having gloated over the whole for a minute
or two, turned the key on his concealed treasure house, and walked
forth on his visits to his patients, yielding the wall to every
man whom he met and bowing and doffing his bonnet to the poorest
burgher that owned a petty booth, nay, to the artificers who gained
their precarious bread by the labour of their welked hands.
"Caitiffs," was the thought of his heart while he did such obeisance
- "base, sodden witted mechanics! did you know what this key
could disclose, what foul weather from heaven would prevent your
unbonneting? what putrid kennel in your wretched hamlet would be
disgusting enough to make you scruple to fall down and worship the
owner of such wealth? But I will make you feel my power, though it
suits my honour to hide the source of it. I will be an incubus to
your city, since you have rejected me as a magistrate. Like the
night mare, I will hag ride ye, yet remain invisible myself. This
miserable Ramorny, too, he who, in losing his hand, has, like a
poor artisan, lost the only valuable part of his frame, he heaps
insulting language on me, as if anything which he can say had power
to chafe a constant mind like mine! Yet, while he calls me rogue,
villain, and slave, he acts as wisely as if he should amuse himself
by pulling hairs out of my head while my hand had hold of his heart
strings. Every insult I can pay back instantly by a pang of bodily
pain or mental agony, and - he, he! - I run no long accounts with
his knighthood, that must be allowed."
While the mediciner was thus indulging his diabolical musing,
and passing, in his creeping manner, along the street, the cry of
females was heard behind him.
"Ay, there he is, Our Lady be praised! - there is the most helpful
man in Perth," said one voice.
"They may speak of knights and kings for redressing wrongs, as
they call it; but give me worthy Master Dwining the potter carrier,
cummers," replied another.
At the same moment, the leech was surrounded and taken hold of by
the speakers, good women of the Fair City.
"How now, what's the matter?" said Dwining, "whose cow has calved?"
"There is no calving in the case," said one of the women, "but a
poor fatherless wean dying; so come awa' wi' you, for our trust is
constant in you, as Bruce said to Donald of the Isles."
"Opiferque per orbem dicor," said Henbane Dwining. "What is the
child dying of?"
"The croup - the croup," screamed one of the gossips; "the innocent
is rouping like a corbie."
"Cynanche trachealis - that disease makes brief work. Show me the
house instantly," continued the mediciner, who was in the habit of
exercising his profession liberally, not withstanding his natural
avarice, and humanely, in spite of his natural malignity. As we
can suspect him of no better principle, his motive most probably
may have been vanity and the love of his art.
He would nevertheless have declined giving his attendance in the
present case had he known whither the kind gossips were conducting
him, in time sufficient to frame an apology. But, ere he guessed
where he was going, the leech was hurried into the house of the
late Oliver Proudfute, from which he heard the chant of the women
as they swathed and dressed the corpse of the umquhile bonnet maker
for the ceremony of next morning, of which chant the following
verses may be received as a modern imitation:
Viewless essence, thin and bare,
Well nigh melted into air,
Still with fondness hovering near
The earthly form thou once didst wear,
Pause upon thy pinion's flight;
Be thy course to left or right,
Be thou doom'd to soar or sink,
Pause upon the awful brink.
To avenge the deed expelling
Thee untimely from thy dwelling,
Mystic force thou shalt retain
O'er the blood and o'er the brain.
When the form thou shalt espy
That darken'd on thy closing eye,
When the footstep thou shalt hear
That thrill'd upon thy dying ear,
Then strange sympathies shall wake,
The flesh shall thrill, the nerves shall quake,
The wounds renew their clotter'd flood,
And every drop cry blood for blood!
Hardened as he was, the physician felt reluctance to pass the threshold
of the man to whose death he had been so directly, though, so far
as the individual was concerned, mistakingly, accessory.
"Let me pass on, women," he said, "my art can only help the living
- the dead are past our power."
"Nay, but your patient is upstairs - the youngest orphan" -
Dwining was compelled to go into the house. But he was surprised
when, the instant he stepped over the threshold, the gossips, who
were busied with the dead body, stinted suddenly in their song,
while one said to the others:
"In God's name, who entered? That was a large gout of blood."
"Not so," said another voice, "it is a drop of the liquid balm."
"Nay, cummer, it was blood. Again I say, who entered the house even
now?"
One looked out from the apartment into the little entrance, where
Dwining, under pretence of not distinctly seeing the trap ladder
by which he was to ascend into the upper part of this house of
lamentation, was delaying his progress purposely, disconcerted with
what had reached him of the conversation.
"Nay, it is only worthy Master Henbane Dwining," answered one of
the sibyls.
"Only Master Dwining," replied the one who had first spoken, in a
tone of acquiescence - "our best helper in need! Then it must have
been balm sure enough."
"Nay," said the other, "it may have been blood nevertheless; for
the leech, look you, when the body was found, was commanded by the
magistrates to probe the wound with his instruments, and how could
the poor dead corpse know that that was done with good purpose?"
"Ay, truly, cummer; and as poor Oliver often mistook friends for
enemies while he was in life, his judgment cannot be thought to
have mended now."
Dwining heard no more, being now forced upstairs into a species
of garret, where Magdalen sat on her widowed bed, clasping to her
bosom her infant, which, already black in the face and uttering
the gasping, crowing sound which gives the popular name to the
complaint, seemed on the point of rendering up its brief existence.
A Dominican monk sat near the bed, holding the other child in his
arms, and seeming from time to time to speak a word or two of spiritual
consolation, or intermingle some observation on the child's disorder.
The mediciner cast upon the good father a single glance, filled
With that ineffable disdain which men of science entertain against
interlopers. His own aid was instant and efficacious: he snatched the
child from the despairing mother, stripped its throat, and opened
a vein, which, as it bled freely, relieved the little patient
instantaneously. In a brief space every dangerous symptom disappeared,
and Dwining, having bound up the vein, replaced the infant in the
arms of the half distracted mother.
The poor woman's distress for her husband's loss, which had been
suspended during the extremity of the child's danger, now returned
on Magdalen with the force of an augmented torrent, which has borne
down the dam dike that for a while interrupted its waves.
"Oh, learned sir," she said, "you see a poor woman of her that you
once knew a richer. But the hands that restored this bairn to my
arms must not leave this house empty. Generous, kind Master Dwining,
accept of his beads; they are made of ebony and silver. He aye liked
to have his things as handsome as any gentleman, and liker he was
in all his ways to a gentleman than any one of his standing, and
even so came of it."
With these words, in a mute passion of grief she pressed to her
breast and to her lips the chaplet of her deceased husband, and
proceeded to thrust it into Dwining's hands.
"Take it," she said, "for the love of one who loved you well. Ah,
he used ever to say, if ever man could be brought back from the
brink of the grave, it must be by Master Dwining's guidance. And
his ain bairn is brought back this blessed day, and he is lying
there stark and stiff, and kens naething of its health and sickness!
Oh, woe is me, and walawa! But take the beads, and think on his
puir soul, as you put them through your fingers, he will be freed
from purgatory the sooner that good people pray to assoilzie him."
"Take back your beads, cummer; I know no legerdemain, can do no
conjuring tricks," said the mediciner, who, more moved than perhaps
his rugged nature had anticipated, endeavoured to avoid receiving
the ill omened gift. But his last words gave offence to the churchman,
whose presence he had not recollected when he uttered them.
"How now, sir leech!" said the Dominican, "do you call prayers for
the dead juggling tricks? I know that Chaucer, the English maker,
says of you mediciners, that your study is but little on the Bible.
Our mother, the church, hath nodded of late, but her eyes are now
opened to discern friends from foes; and be well assured - "
"Nay, reverend father," said Dwining, "you take me at too great
advantage. I said I could do no miracles, and was about to add
that, as the church certainly could work such conclusions, those
rich beads should be deposited in your hands, to be applied as they
may best benefit the soul of the deceased."
He dropped the beads into the Dominican's hand, and escaped from
the house of mourning.
"This was a strangely timed visit," he said to himself, when he
got safe out of doors. "I hold such things cheap as any can; yet,
though it is but a silly fancy, I am glad I saved the squalling
child's life. But I must to my friend Smotherwell, whom I have no
doubt to bring to my purpose in the matter of Bonthron; and thus
on this occasion I shall save two lives, and have destroyed only
one."
CHAPTER XXIII.
Lo! where he lies embalmed in gore,
His wound to Heaven cries:
The floodgates of his blood implore
For vengeance from the skies.
Uranus and Psyche.
The High Church of St. John in Perth, being that of the patron
saint of the burgh, had been selected by the magistrates as that
in which the community was likely to have most fair play for the
display of the ordeal. The churches and convents of the Dominicans,
Carthusians, and others of the regular clergy had been highly endowed
by the King and nobles, and therefore it was the universal cry of
the city council that "their ain good auld St. John," of whose good
graces they thought themselves sure, ought to be fully confided
in, and preferred to the new patrons, for whom the Dominicans,
Carthusians, Carmelites, and others had founded newer seats around
the Fair City. The disputes between the regular and secular clergy
added to the jealousy which dictated this choice of the spot in
which Heaven was to display a species of miracle, upon a direct
appeal to the divine decision in a case of doubtful guilt; and the
town clerk was as anxious that the church of St. John should be
preferred as if there had been a faction in the body of saints for
and against the interests of the beautiful town of Perth.
Many, therefore, were the petty intrigues entered into and disconcerted
for the purpose of fixing on the church. But the magistrates,
considering it as a matter touching in a close degree the honour
of the city, determined, with judicious confidence in the justice
and impartiality of their patron, to confide the issue to the
influence of St. John.
It was, therefore, after high mass had been performed with the
greatest solemnity of which circumstances rendered the ceremony
capable, and after the most repeated and fervent prayers had been
offered to Heaven by the crowded assembly, that preparations were
made for appealing to the direct judgment of Heaven on the mysterious
murder of the unfortunate bonnet maker.
The scene presented that effect of imposing solemnity which the
rites of the Catholic Church are so well qualified to produce.
The eastern window, richly and variously painted, streamed down a
torrent of chequered light upon the high altar. On the bier placed
before it were stretched the mortal remains of the murdered man,
his arms folded on his breast, and his palms joined together, with
the fingers pointed upwards, as if the senseless clay was itself
appealing to Heaven for vengeance against those who had violently
divorced the immortal spirit from its mangled tenement.
Close to the bier was placed the throne which supported Robert
of Scotland and his brother Albany. The Prince sat upon a lower
stool, beside his father - an arrangement which occasioned some
observation, as, Albany's seat being little distinguished from that
of the King, the heir apparent, though of full age, seemed to be
degraded beneath his uncle in the sight of the assembled people of
Perth. The bier was so placed as to leave the view of the body it
sustained open to the greater part of the multitude assembled in
the church.
At the head of the bier stood the Knight of Kinfauns, the challenger,
and at the foot the young Earl of Crawford, as representing the
defendant. The evidence of the Duke of Rothsay in expurgation,
as it was termed, of Sir John Ramorny, had exempted him from the
necessity of attendance as a party subjected to the ordeal; and his
illness served as a reason for his remaining at home. His household,
including those who, though immediately in waiting upon Sir John,
were accounted the Prince's domestics, and had not yet received
their dismissal, amounted to eight or ten persons, most of them
esteemed men of profligate habits, and who might therefore be
deemed capable, in the riot of a festival evening, of committing
the slaughter of the bonnet maker. They were drawn up in a row on
the left side of the church, and wore a species of white cassock,
resembling the dress of a penitentiary. All eyes being bent on
them, several of this band seemed so much disconcerted as to excite
among the spectators strong prepossessions of their guilt. The real
murderer had a countenance incapable of betraying him - a sullen,
dark look, which neither the feast nor wine cup could enliven, and
which the peril of discovery and death could not render dejected.
We have already noticed the posture of the dead body. The face
was bare, as were the breast and arms. The rest of the corpse was
shrouded in a winding sheet of the finest linen, so that, if blood
should flow from any place which was covered, it could not fail to
be instantly manifest.
High mass having been performed, followed by a solemn invocation
to the Deity, that He would be pleased to protect the innocent, and
make known the guilty, Eviot, Sir John Ramorny's page, was summoned
to undergo the ordeal. He advanced with an ill assured step. Perhaps
he thought his internal consciousness that Bonthron must have been
the assassin might be sufficient to implicate him in the murder,
though he was not directly accessory to it. He paused before the
bier; and his voice faltered, as he swore by all that was created
in seven days and seven nights, by heaven, by hell, by his part of
paradise, and by the God and author of all, that he was free and
sackless of the bloody deed done upon the corpse before which he
stood, and on whose breast he made the sign of the cross, in evidence
of the appeal. No consequences ensued. The body remained stiff as
before, the curdled wounds gave no sign of blood.
The citizens looked on each other with faces of blank disappointment.
They had persuaded themselves of Eviot's guilt, and their suspicions
had been confirmed by his irresolute manner. Their surprise at his
escape was therefore extreme. The other followers of Ramorny took
heart, and advanced to take the oath with a boldness which increased
as one by one they performed the ordeal, and were declared, by the
voice of the judges, free and innocent of every suspicion attaching
to them on account of the death of Oliver Proudfute.
But there was one individual who did not partake that increasing
confidence. The name of "Bonthron - Bonthron!" sounded three times
through the aisles of the church; but he who owned it acknowledged
the call no otherwise than by a sort of shuffling motion with his
feet, as if he had been suddenly affected with a fit of the palsy.
"Speak, dog," whispered Eviot, "or prepare for a dog's death!"
But the murderer's brain was so much disturbed by the sight before
him, that the judges, beholding his deportment, doubted whether to
ordain him to be dragged before the bier or to pronounce judgment
in default; and it was not until he was asked for the last time
whether he would submit to the ordeal, that he answered, with his
usual brevity:
"I will not; what do I know what juggling tricks may be practised
to take a poor man's life? I offer the combat to any man who says
I harmed that dead body."
And, according to usual form, he threw his glove upon the floor of
the church.
Henry Smith stepped forward, amidst the murmured applauses of his
fellow citizens, which even the august presence could not entirely
suppress; and, lifting the ruffian's glove, which he placed in his
bonnet, laid down his own in the usual form, as a gage of battle.
But Bonthron raised it not.
"He is no match for me," growled the savage, "nor fit to lift my
glove. I follow the Prince of Scotland, in attending on his master
of horse. This fellow is a wretched mechanic."
Here the Prince interrupted him. "Thou follow me, caitiff! I discharge
thee from my service on the spot. Take him in hand, Smith, and beat
him as thou didst never thump anvil! The villain is both guilty
and recreant. It sickens me even to look at him; and if my royal
father will be ruled by me, he will give the parties two handsome
Scottish axes, and we will see which of them turns out the best
fellow before the day is half an hour older."
This was readily assented to by the Earl of Crawford and Sir Patrick
Charteris, the godfathers of the parties, who, as the combatants
were men of inferior rank, agreed that they should fight in steel
caps, buff jackets, and with axes, and that as soon as they could
be prepared for the combat.
The lists were appointed in the Skinners' Yards - a neighbouring
space of ground, occupied by the corporation from which it had
the name, and who quickly cleared a space of about thirty feet
by twenty-five for the combatants. Thither thronged the nobles,
priests, and commons - all excepting the old King, who, detesting
such scenes of blood, retired to his residence, and devolved the
charge of the field upon the Earl of Errol, Lord High Constable,
to whose office it more particularly belonged. The Duke of Albany
watched the whole proceeding with a close and wary eye. His nephew
gave the scene the heedless degree of notice which corresponded
with his character.
When the combatants appeared in the lists, nothing could be more
striking than the contrast betwixt the manly, cheerful countenance
of the smith, whose sparkling bright eye seemed already beaming
with the victory he hoped for, and the sullen, downcast aspect of
the brutal Bonthron, who looked as if he were some obscene bird,
driven into sunshine out of the shelter of its darksome haunts.
They made oath severally, each to the truth of his quarrel - a
ceremony which Henry Gow performed with serene and manly confidence,
Bonthron with a dogged resolution, which induced the Duke of Rothsay
to say to the High Constable: "Didst thou ever, my dear Errol,
behold such a mixture of malignity, cruelty, and I think fear, as
in that fellow's countenance?"
"He is not comely," said the Earl, "but a powerful knave as I have
seen."
"I'll gage a hogshead of wine with you, my good lord, that he
loses the day. Henry the armourer is as strong as he, and much more
active; and then look at his bold bearing! There is something in
that other fellow that is loathsome to look upon. Let them yoke
presently, my dear Constable, for I am sick of beholding him."
The High Constable then addressed the widow, who, in her deep weeds,
and having her children still beside her, occupied a chair within
the lists: "Woman, do you willingly accept of this man, Henry the
Smith, to do battle as your champion in this cause?"
"I do - I do, most willingly," answered Magdalen Proudfute; "and
may the blessing of God and St. John give him strength and fortune,
since he strikes for the orphan and fatherless!"
"Then I pronounce this a fenced field of battle," said the Constable
aloud. "Let no one dare, upon peril of his life, to interrupt
this combat by word, speech, or look. Sound trumpets, and fight,
combatants!"
The trumpets flourished, and the combatants, advancing from the
opposite ends of the lists, with a steady and even pace, looked at
each other attentively, well skilled in judging from the motion of
the eye the direction in which a blow was meditated. They halted
opposite to, and within reach of, each other, and in turn made
more than one feint to strike, in order to ascertain the activity
and vigilance of the opponent. At length, whether weary of these
manoeuvres, or fearing lest in a contest so conducted his unwieldy
strength would be foiled by the activity of the smith, Bonthron
heaved up his axe for a downright blow, adding the whole strength
of his sturdy arms to the weight of the weapon in its descent. The
smith, however, avoided the stroke by stepping aside; for it was
too forcible to be controlled by any guard which he could have
interposed. Ere Bonthron recovered guard, Henry struck him a sidelong
blow on the steel headpiece, which prostrated him on the ground.
"Confess, or die," said the victor, placing his foot on the body
of the vanquished, and holding to his throat the point of the axe,
which terminated in a spike or poniard.
"I will confess," said the villain, glaring wildly upwards on the
sky. "Let me rise."
"Not till you have yielded," said Harry Smith.
"I do yield," again murmured Bonthron, and Henry proclaimed aloud
that his antagonist was defeated.
The Dukes of Rothsay and Albany, the High Constable, and the
Dominican prior now entered the lists, and, addressing Bonthron,
demanded if he acknowledged himself vanquished.
"I do," answered the miscreant.
"And guilty of the murder of Oliver Proudfute?"
"I am; but I mistook him for another."
"And whom didst thou intend to slay?" said the prior. "Confess, my
son, and merit thy pardon in another world for with this thou hast
little more to do."
"I took the slain man," answered the discomfited combatant, "for
him whose hand has struck me down, whose foot now presses me."
"Blessed be the saints!" said the prior; "now all those who
doubt the virtue of the holy ordeal may have their eyes opened to
their error. Lo, he is trapped in the snare which he laid for the
guiltless."
"I scarce ever saw the man," said the smith. "I never did wrong
to him or his. Ask him, an it please your reverence, why he should
have thought of slaying me treacherously."
"It is a fitting question," answered the prior. "Give glory where
it is due, my son, even though it is manifested by thy shame. For
what reason wouldst thou have waylaid this armourer, who says he
never wronged thee?"
"He had wronged him whom I served," answered Bonthron, "and I
meditated the deed by his command."
"By whose command?" asked the prior.
Bonthron was silent for an instant, then growled out: "He is too
mighty for me to name."
"Hearken, my son," said the churchman; "tarry but a brief hour, and
the mighty and the mean of this earth shall to thee alike be empty
sounds. The sledge is even now preparing to drag thee to the place
of execution. Therefore, son, once more I charge thee to consult
thy soul's weal by glorifying Heaven, and speaking the truth. Was
it thy master, Sir John Ramorny, that stirred thee to so foul a
deed?"
"No," answered the prostrate villain, "it was a greater than he."
And at the same time he pointed with his finger to the Prince.
"Wretch!" said the astonished Duke of Rothsay; "do you dare to hint
that I was your instigator?"
"You yourself, my lord," answered the unblushing ruffian.
"Die in thy falsehood, accursed slave!" said the Prince; and,
drawing his sword, he would have pierced his calumniator, had not
the Lord High Constable interposed with word and action.
"Your Grace must forgive my discharging mine office: this caitiff
must be delivered into the hands of the executioner. He is unfit
to be dealt with by any other, much less by your Highness."
"What! noble earl," said Albany aloud, and with much real or affected
emotion, "would you let the dog pass alive from hence, to poison
the people's ears with false accusations against the Prince of
Scotland? I say, cut him to mammocks upon the spot!"
"Your Highness will pardon me," said the Earl of Errol; "I must
protect him till his doom is executed."
"Then let him be gagged instantly," said Albany. "And you, my
royal nephew, why stand you there fixed in astonishment? Call your
resolution up - speak to the prisoner - swear - protest by all
that is sacred that you knew not of this felon deed. See how the
people look on each other and whisper apart! My life on't that
this lie spreads faster than any Gospel truth. Speak to them, royal
kinsman, no matter what you say, so you be constant in denial."
"What, sir," said Rothsay, starting from his pause of surprise and
mortification, and turning haughtily towards his uncle; "would you
have me gage my royal word against that of an abject recreant? Let
those who can believe the son of their sovereign, the descendant
of Bruce, capable of laying ambush for the life of a poor mechanic,
enjoy the pleasure of thinking the villain's tale true."
"That will not I for one," said the smith, bluntly. "I never
did aught but what was in honour towards his royal Grace the Duke
of Rothsay, and never received unkindness from him in word, look,
or deed; and I cannot think he would have given aim to such base
practice."
"Was it in honour that you threw his Highness from the ladder in
Curfew Street upon Fastern's [St. Valentine's] Even?" said Bonthron;
"or think you the favour was received kindly or unkindly?"
This was so boldly said, and seemed so plausible, that it shook
the smith's opinion of the Prince's innocence.
"Alas, my lord," said he, looking sorrowfully towards Rothsay,
"could your Highness seek an innocent fellow's life for doing his
duty by a helpless maiden? I would rather have died in these lists
than live to hear it said of the Bruce's heir!"
"Thou art a good fellow, Smith," said the Prince; "but I cannot expect
thee to judge more wisely than others. Away with that convict to
the gallows, and gibbet him alive an you will, that he may speak
falsehood and spread scandal on us to the last prolonged moment of
his existence!"
So saying, the Prince turned away from the lists, disdaining to
notice the gloomy looks cast towards him, as the crowd made slow
and reluctant way for him to pass, and expressing neither surprise
nor displeasure at a deep, hollow murmur, or groan, which accompanied
his retreat. Only a few of his own immediate followers attended
him from the field, though various persons of distinction had come
there in his train. Even the lower class of citizens ceased to
follow the unhappy Prince, whose former indifferent reputation had
exposed him to so many charges of impropriety and levity, and around
whom there seemed now darkening suspicions of the most atrocious
nature.
He took his slow and thoughtful way to the church of the Dominicans;
but the ill news, which flies proverbially fast, had reached his
father's place of retirement before he himself appeared. On entering
the palace and inquiring for the King, the Duke of Rothsay was
surprised to be informed that he was in deep consultation with the
Duke of Albany, who, mounting on horseback as the Prince left the
lists, had reached the convent before him. He was about to use
the privilege of his rank and birth to enter the royal apartment,
when MacLouis, the commander of the guard of Brandanes, gave him
to understand, in the most respectful terms, that he had special
instructions which forbade his admittance.
"Go at least, MacLouis, and let them know that I wait their
pleasure," said the Prince. "If my uncle desires to have the credit
of shutting the father's apartment against the son, it will gratify
him to know that I am attending in the outer hall like a lackey."
"May it please you," said MacLouis, with hesitation, "if your
Highness would consent to retire just now, and to wait awhile in
patience, I will send to acquaint you when the Duke of Albany goes;
and I doubt not that his Majesty will then admit your Grace to his
presence. At present, your Highness must forgive me, it is impossible
you can have access."
"I understand you, MacLouis; but go, nevertheless, and obey my
commands."
The officer went accordingly, and returned with a message that the
King was indisposed, and on the point of retiring to his private
chamber; but that the Duke of Albany would presently wait upon the
Prince of Scotland.
It was, however, a full half hour ere the Duke of Albany appeared
- a period of time which Rothsay spent partly in moody silence,
and partly in idle talk with MacLouis and the Brandanes, as the
levity or irritability of his temper obtained the ascendant.
At length the Duke came, and with him the lord High Constable,
whose countenance expressed much sorrow and embarrassment.