found the minstrel seated at a small table, sustaining before him a
manuscript, apparently of great antiquity, from which he seemed engaged
in making extracts. The windows of the room were very small, and still
showed some traces that they had originally been glazed with a painted
history of Saint Bride - another mark of the devotion of the great
family of Douglas to their tutelar saint.
The minstrel, who had seemed deeply wrapped in the contemplation of his
task, on being disturbed by the unlooked-for entrance of Sir John de
Walton, rose with every mark of respect and humility, and, remaining
standing in the governor's presence, appeared to wait for his
interrogations, as if he had anticipated that the visit concerned
himself particularly.
"I am to suppose, Sir Minstrel," said Sir John de Walton, "that you
have been successful in your search, and have found the roll of poetry
or prophecies that you proposed to seek after amongst these broken
shelves and tattered volumes?"
"More successful than I could have expected," replied the minstrel,
"considering the effects of the conflagration. This, Sir Knight, is
apparently the fatal volume for which I sought, and strange it is,
considering the heavy chance of other books contained in this library,
that I have been able to find a few though imperfect fragments of it."
"Since, therefore, you have been permitted to indulge your curiosity,"
said the governor, "I trust, minstrel, you will have no objection to
satisfy mine?"
The minstrel replied with the same humility, "that if there was any
thing within the poor compass of his skill which could gratify Sir John
de Walton in any degree, he would but reach his lute, and presently
obey his commands."
"You mistake, Sir," said Sir John, somewhat harshly. "I am none of
those who have hours to spend in listening to tales or music of former
days; my life has hardly given me time enough for learning the duties
of my profession, far less has it allowed me leisure for such twangling
follies. I care not who knows it, but my ear is so incapable judging of
your art, which you doubtless think a noble one, that I can scarcely
tell the modulation of one tune from another."
"In that case," replied the minstrel composedly, "I can hardly promise
myself the pleasure of affording your worship the amusement which I
might otherwise have done."
"Nor do I look for any from your hand," said the governor, advancing a
step nearer to him, and speaking in a sterner tone. "I want information,
sir, which I am assured you can give me, if you incline; and it is my
duty to tell you, that if you show unwillingness to speak the truth, I
know means by which it will become my painful duty to extort it in a
more disagreeable manner than I would wish."
"If your questions, Sir Knight," answered Bertram, "be such as I can or
ought to answer, there shall be no occasion to put them more than once.
If they are such as I cannot, or ought not to reply to, believe me that
no threats of violence will extort an answer from me."
"You speak boldly," said Sir John de Walton; "but take my word for it,
that your courage will be put to the test. I am as little fond of
proceeding to such extremities as you can be of undergoing them, but
such will be the natural consequence of your own obstinacy. I therefore
ask you, whether Bertram be your real name - whether you have any other
profession than that of a travelling minstrel - and, lastly, whether you
have any acquaintance or connexion with any Englishman or Scottishman
beyond the walls of this Castle of Douglas?"
"To these questions," replied the minstrel, "I have already answered
the worshipful knight, Sir Aymer de Valence, and having fully satisfied
him, it is not, I conceive, necessary that I should undergo a second
examination; nor is it consistent either with your worship's honour, or
that of the lieutenant-governor, that such a re-examination should take
place."
"You are very considerate," replied the governor, "of my honour and of
that of Sir Aymer de Valence. Take my word for it, they are both in
perfect safety in our own keeping, and may dispense with your attention.
I ask you, will you answer the enquiries which it is my duty to make,
or am I to enforce obedience by putting you under the penalties of the
question? I have already, it is my duty to say, seen the answers you
have returned to my lieutenant, and they do not satisfy me."
He at the same time clapped his hands, and two or three archers showed
themselves stripped of their tunics, and only attired in their shirts
and hose.
"I understand," said the minstrel, "that you intend to inflict upon me
a punishment which is foreign to the genius of the English laws, in
that no proof is adduced of my guilt. I have already told that I am by
birth an Englishman, by profession a minstrel, and that I am totally
unconnected with any person likely to nourish any design against this
Castle of Douglas, Sir John de Walton, or his garrison. What answers
you may extort from me by bodily agony, I cannot, to speak as a plain-
dealing Christian, hold myself responsible for. I think that I can
endure as much pain as any one; I am sure that I never yet felt a
degree of agony, that I would not willingly prefer to breaking my
plighted word, or becoming a false informer against innocent persons:
but I own I do not know the extent to which the art of torture may be
carried; and though I do not fear you, Sir John de Walton, yet I must
acknowledge that I fear myself, since I know not to what extremity your
cruelty may be capable of subjecting me, or how far I may be enabled to
bear it. I, therefore, in the first place, protest, that I shall in no
manner be liable for any words which I may utter in the course of any
examination enforced from me by torture; and you must therefore, under
such circumstances, proceed to the execution of an office, which,
permit me to say, is hardly that which I expected to have found thus
administered by an accomplished knight like yourself."
"Hark you, sir," replied the governor, "you and I are at issue, and in
doing my duty, I ought instantly to proceed to the extremities I have
threatened; but perhaps you yourself feel less reluctance to undergo
the examination as proposed, than I shall do in commanding it; I will
therefore consign you for the present to a place of confinement,
suitable to one who is suspected of being a spy upon this fortress.
Until you are pleased to remove such suspicions, your lodgings and
nourishment are those of a prisoner. In the meantime, before subjecting
you to the question, take notice, I will myself ride to the Abbey of
Saint Bride, and satisfy myself whether the young person whom you would
pass as your son, is possessed of the same determination as that which
you yourself seem to assert. It may so happen that his examination and
yours may throw such light upon each other as will decidedly prove
either your guilt or innocence, without its being confirmed by the use
of the extraordinary question. If it be otherwise, tremble for your
son's sake, if not for your own. - Have I shaken you, sir? - or do you
fear, for your boy's young sinews and joints, the engines which, in
your case, you seem willing to defy?"
"Sir," answered the minstrel, recovering from the momentary emotion he
had shown, "I leave it to yourself, as a man of honour and candour,
whether you ought, in common fairness, to form a worse opinion of any
man, because he is not unwilling to incur, in his own person,
severities which he would not desire to be inflicted upon his child, a
sickly youth, just recovering from a dangerous disease."
"It is my duty," answered De Walton, after a short pause, "to leave no
stone unturned by which this business may be traced to the source; and
if thou desirest mercy for thy son, thou wilt thyself most easily
attain it, by setting him the example of honesty and plain-dealing."
The minstrel threw himself back on the seat, as if fully resolved to
bear every extremity that could be inflicted, rather than make any
farther answer than he had already offered. Sir John de Walton himself
seemed in some degree uncertain what might now be his best course. He
felt an invincible repugnance to proceed, without due consideration, in
what most people would have deemed the direct line of his duty, by
inflicting the torture both upon father and son; but deep as was his
sense of devotion towards the King, and numerous as were the hopes and
expectations he had formed upon the strict discharge of his present
high trust, he could not resolve upon having recourse at once to this
cruel method of cutting the knot. Bertram's appearance was venerable,
and his power of words not unworthy of his aspect and bearing. The
governor remembered that Aymer de Valence, whose judgment in general it
was impossible to deny, had described him as one of those rare
individuals, who vindicated the honour of a corrupted profession by
their personal good behaviour; and he acknowledged to himself, that
there was gross cruelty and injustice in refusing to admit the prisoner
to the credit of being a true and honest man, until, by way of proving
his rectitude, he had strained every sinew, and crushed every joint in
his body, as well as those of his son. "I have no touchstone," he said
internally, "which can distinguish truth from falsehood; the Bruce and
his followers are on the alert,-he has certainly equipped the galleys
which lay at Rachrin during winter. This story, too, of Greenleaf,
about arms being procured for a new insurrection, tallies strangely
with the appearance of that savage-looking forester at the hunt; and
all tends to show, that something is upon the anvil which it is my duty
to provide against. I will, therefore, pass over no circumstance by
which I can affect the mind through hope or fear; but, please God to
give me light from any other source, I will not think it lawful to
torment these unfortunate, and, it may yet be, honest men." He
accordingly took his departure from the library, whispering a word to
Greenleaf respecting the prisoner.
He had reached the outward door of the study, and his satellites had
already taken the minstrel into their grasp, when the voice of the old
man was heard calling upon De Walton to return for a single moment.
"What hast thou to say, sir?" said the governor; "be speedy, for I have
already lost more time in listening to thee than I am answerable for;
and so I advise thee for thine own sake" -
"I advise thee," said the minstrel, "for thine own sake, Sir John de
Walton, to beware how thou dost insist on thy present purpose, by which
thou thyself alone, of all men living, - will most severely suffer. If
thou harmest a hair of that young man's head - nay, if thou permittest
him to undergo any privation which it is in thy power to prevent, thou
wilt, in doing so, prepare for thine own suffering a degree of agony
more acute than anything else in this mortal world could cause thee. I
swear by the most blessed objects of our holy religion; I call to
witness that holy sepulchre, of which I have been an unworthy visitor,
that I speak nothing but the truth, and that thou wilt one day testify
thy gratitude for the part I am now acting. It is my interest, as well
as yours, to secure you in the safe possession of this castle, although
assuredly I know some things respecting it, and respecting your worship,
which I am not at liberty to tell without the consent of that youth.
Bring me but a note under his hand, consenting to my taking you into
our mystery, and believe me, you will soon see those clouds charmed
away; since there was never a doleful uncertainty which more speedily
changed to joy, or a thunder-cloud of adversity which more instantly
gave way to sunshine, than would then the suspicions which appear now
so formidable."
He spoke with so much earnestness as to make some impression upon Sir
John de Walton, who was once more wholly at a loss to know what line
his duty called upon him to pursue.
"I would most gladly," said the governor, "follow out my purpose by the
gentlest means in my power; and I shall bring no further distress upon
this poor lad, than thine own obstinacy and his shall appear to deserve.
In the meantime, think, Sir Minstrel, that my duty has limits, and if I
slack it for a day, it will become thee to exert every effort in thy
power to meet my condescension. I will give thee leave to address thy
son by a line under thy hand, and I will await his answer before I
proceed farther in this matter, which seems to be very mysterious.
Meantime, as thou hast a soul to be saved, I conjure thee to speak the
truth, and tell me whether the secrets of which thou seemest to be a
too faithful treasurer, have regard to the practices of Douglas, of
Bruce, or of any in their names, against this Castle of Douglas?"
The prisoner thought a moment, and then replied - "I am aware, Sir
Knight, of the severe charge under which this command is intrusted to
your hands, and were it in my power to assist you, as a faithful
minstrel and loyal subject, either with hand or tongue, I should feel
myself called upon so to do; but so far am I from being the character
your suspicions have apprehended, that I should have held it for
certain that the Bruce and Douglas had assembled their followers, for
the purpose of renouncing their rebellious attempts, and taking their
departure for the Holy Land, but for the apparition of the forester,
who, I hear, bearded you at the hunting, which impresses upon me the
belief, that when so resolute a follower and henchman of the Douglas
was sitting fearless among you, his master and comrades could be at no
great distance - how far his intentions could be friendly to you, I must
leave it to yourself to judge; only believe me thus far, that the rack,
pulley, or pincers, would not have compelled me to act the informer, or
adviser, in a quarrel wherein I have little or no share, if I had not
been desirous of fixing the belief upon you, that you are dealing with
a true man, and one who has your welfare at heart. - Meanwhile, permit
me to have writing materials, or let my own be restored, for I possess,
in some degree, the higher arts of my calling; nor do I fear but that I
can procure for you an explanation of these marvels, without much more
loss of time."
"God grant it prove so," said the governor; "though I see not well how
I can hope for so favourable a termination, and I may sustain great
harm by trusting too much on the present occasion. My duty, however,
requires that, in the meantime, you be removed into strict
confinement."
He handed to the prisoner, as he spoke, the writing materials, which
had been seized upon by the archers on their first entrance, and then
commanded those satellites to unhand the minstrel.
"I must, then," said Bertram, "remain subjected to all the severities
of a strict captivity; but I deprecate no hardship whatever in my own
person, so I may secure you from acting with a degree of rashness, of
which you will all your life repent, without the means of atoning."
"No more words, minstrel," said the governor; "but since I have made my
choice, perhaps a very dangerous one for myself, let us carry this
spell into execution, which thou sayest is to serve me, as mariners say
that oil spread upon the raging billows will assuage their fury."
CHAPTER THE NINTH.
Beware! beware! of the black Friar,
He still retains his sway,
For he is yet the Church's heir by right,
Whoever may be the lay.
Amundeville is lord by day,
But the monk is lord by night,
Nor wine nor wassel could raise a vassal
To question that friar's right.
Don Juan, CANTO XVII.
The minstrel made no vain boast of the skill which he possessed in the
use of pen and ink. In fact, no priest of the time could have produced
his little scroll more speedily, more neatly composed, or more fairly
written, than were the lines addressed "To the youth called Augustine,
son of Bertram the Minstrel."
"I have not folded this letter," said he, "nor tied it with silk, for
it is not expressed so as to explain the mystery to you; nor, to speak
frankly, do I think that it can convey to you any intelligence; but it
may be satisfactory to show you what the letter does not contain, and
that it is written from and to a person, who both mean kindly towards
you and your garrison."
"That," said the governor, "is a deception which is easily practised;
it tends, however, to show, though not with certainty, that you are
disposed to act upon good faith; and until the contrary appear, I shall
consider it a point of duty to treat you with as much gentleness as the
matter admits of. Meantime, I will myself ride to the Abbey of Saint
Bride, and in person examine the young prisoner; and as you say he has
the power, so I pray to Heaven he may have the will, to read this
riddle, which seems to throw us all into confusion." So saying, he
ordered his horse, and while it was getting ready, he perused with
great composure the minstrel's letter. Its contents ran thus: -
"DEAR AUGUSTINE,
"Sir John de Walton, the governor of this castle, has conceived those
suspicions which I pointed out as likely to be the consequence of our
coming to this country without an avowed errand. I at least am seized,
and threatened with examination under torture, to force me to tell the
purpose of our journey; but they shall tear the flesh from my bones,
ere they force me to break the oath which I have taken. And the purport
of this letter is to apprize you of the danger in which you stand of
being placed in similar circumstances, unless you are disposed to
authorize me to make the discovery to this knight; but on this subject
you are only to express your own wishes, being assured they shall be in
every respect attended to by your devoted
"BERTRAM."
This letter did not throw the smallest light upon the mystery of the
writer. The governor read it more than once, and turned it repeatedly
in his hand, as if he had hoped by that mechanical process to draw
something from the missive, which at a first view the words did not
express; but as no result of this sort appeared, De Walton retired to
the hall, where he informed Sir Aymer de Valence, that he was going
abroad as far as the Abbey of Saint Bride, and that he would be obliged
by his taking upon him the duties of governor during his absence. Sir
Aymer, of course, intimated his acquiescence in the charge; and the
state of disunion in which they stood to each other, permitted no
further explanation.
Upon the arrival of Sir John de Walton at the dilapidated shrine, the
abbot, with trembling haste, made it his business immediately to attend
the commander of the English garrison, upon whom for the present, their
house depended for every indulgence they experienced, as well as for
the subsistence and protection necessary to them in so perilous a
period. Having interrogated this old man respecting the youth residing
in the Abbey, De Walton was informed that he had been indisposed since
left there by his father, Bertram, a minstrel. It appeared to the abbot,
that his indisposition might be of that contagious kind which, at that
period, ravaged the English Borders, and made some incursions into
Scotland, where it afterwards worked a fearful progress. After some
farther conversation, Sir John de Walton put into the abbot's hand the
letter to the young person under his roof, on delivering which to
Augustine, the reverend father was charged with a message to the
English governor, so bold, that he was afraid to be the bearer of it.
It signified, that the youth could not, and would not, at that moment,
receive the English knight; but that, if he came back on the morrow
after mass, it was probable he might learn something of what was
requested.
"This is not an answer," said Sir John de Walton, "to be sent by a boy
like this to a person in my charge; and me thinks, Father Abbot, you
consult your own safety but slenderly in delivering such an insolent
message."
The abbot trembled under the folds of his large coarse habit; and De
Walton, imagining that his discomposure was the consequence of guilty
fear, called upon him to remember the duties which he owed to England,
the benefits which he had received from himself, and the probable
consequence of taking part in a pert boy's insolent defiance of the
power of the governor of the province.
The abbot vindicated himself from these charges with the utmost anxiety.
He pledged his sacred word, that the inconsiderate character of the
boy's message was owing to the waywardness arising from indisposition.
He reminded the governor that, as a Christian and an Englishman, he had
duties to observe towards the community of Saint Bride, which had never
given the English government the least subject of complaint. As he
spoke, the churchman seemed to gather courage from the immunities of
his order. He said he could not permit a sick boy who had taken refuge
within the sanctuary of the Church, to be seized or subjected to any
species of force, unless he was accused of a specific crime, capable of
being immediately proved. The Douglasses, a headstrong race, had, in
former days, uniformly respected the sanctuary of Saint Bride, and it
was not to be supposed that the king of England, the dutiful and
obedient child of the Church of Rome, would act with less veneration
for her rights, than the followers of a usurper, homicide, and
excommunicated person like Robert Bruce.
Walton was considerably shaken with this remonstrance. He knew that, in
the circumstances of the times, the Pope had great power in every
controversy in which it was his pleasure to interfere. He knew that
even in the dispute respecting the supremacy of Scotland, his Holiness
had set up a claim to the kingdom which, in the temper of the times,
might perhaps have been deemed superior both to that of Robert Bruce,
and that of Edward of England, and he conceived his monarch would give
him little thanks for any fresh embroilment which might take place with
the Church. Moreover, It was easy to place a watch, so as to prevent
Augustine from escaping during the night; and on the following morning
he would be still as effectually in the power of the English governor
as if he were seized on by open force at the present moment. Sir John
de Walton, however, so far exerted his authority over the abbot, that
he engaged, in consideration of the sanctuary being respected for this
space of time, that, when it expired, he would be aiding and assisting
with his spiritual authority to surrender the youth, should he not
allege a sufficient reason to the contrary. This arrangement, which
appeared still to flatter the governor with the prospect of an easy
termination of this troublesome dispute, induced him to grant the delay
which Augustine rather demanded than petitioned for.
"At your request, Father Abbot, whom I have hitherto found a true man,
I will indulge this youth with the grace he asks, before taking him
into custody, understanding that he shall not be permitted to leave
this place; and thou art to be responsible to this effect, giving thee,
as is reasonable, power to command our little, garrison at Hazelside,
to which I will send a reinforcement on my return to the Castle, in
case it should be necessary to use the strong hand, or circumstances
impose upon me other measures."
"Worthy Sir Knight," replied the Abbot, "I have no idea that the
frowardness of this youth will render any course necessary, saving that
of persuasion; and I venture to say, that you yourself will in the
highest degree approve of the method in which I shall acquit myself of
my present trust."
The abbot went through the duties of hospitality, enumerating what
simple cheer the cloister of the convent permitted him to offer to the
English knight. Sir John de Walton declined the offer of refreshment,
however - took a courteous leave of the churchman, and did not spare his
horse until the noble animal had brought him again before the Castle of
Douglas. Sir Aymer De Valence met him on the drawbridge, and reported
the state of the garrison to be the same in winch he had left it,
excepting that intimation had been received that twelve or fifteen men
were expected on their way to the town of Lanark; and being on march
from the neighbourhood of Ayr, would that night take up their quarters
at the outpost of Hazelside.
"I am glad of it," replied the governor; "I was about to strengthen
that detachment. This stripling, the son of Bertram the minstrel, or
whoever he is, has engaged to deliver himself up for examination in the
morning. As this party of soldiers are followers of your uncle, Lord
Pembroke, may I request you will ride to meet them, and command them to
remain at Hazelside until you make farther enquiries about this youth,
who has still to clear up the mystery which hangs about him, and reply
to a letter which I delivered with my own hand to the Abbot of Saint
Bride. I have shown too much forbearance in this matter, and I trust to
your looking to the security of this young man, and conveying him
hither, with all due care and attention, as being a prisoner of some
importance."
"Certainly, Sir John," answered Sir Aymer; "your orders shall be obeyed,
since you have none of greater importance for one who hath the honour
to be second only to yourself in this place."
"I crave your mercy, Sir Aymer," returned the governor, "if the
commission be in any degree beneath your dignity; but it is our
misfortune to misunderstand each other, when we endeavour to be most
intelligible."
"But what am I to do," said Sir Aymer - "no way disputing your command,
but only asking for information - what am I to do, if the Abbot of Saint
Bride offers opposition?"
"How!" answered Sir John de Walton; "with the reinforcement from. my
Lord of Pembroke, you will command at least twenty war-men, with bow
and spear, against five or six timid old monks, with only gown and,
hood."
"True," said Sir Aymer, "but ban and excommunication are sometimes; In
the present day, too hard for the mail coat, and I would not willingly
be thrown out of the pale of the Christian Church."
"Well, then, thou very suspicious and scrupulous young man," replied De
Walton, "know that if this youth does not deliver himself up to thee of
his own accord, the abbot has promised to put him into thy hands."
There was no farther answer to be made, and De Valence, though still
thinking himself unnecessarily harassed with the charge of a petty
commission, took the sort of half arms which were always used when the
knights stirred, beyond the walls of the garrison, and proceeded to
execute the commands of De Walton. A horseman or two, together with his
squire Fabian, accompanied him.
The evening closed in with one of those Scottish mists which are
commonly said to be equal to the showers of happier climates; the path
became more and more dark, the hills more wreathed in vapours, and more
difficult to traverse; and all the little petty inconveniences which
rendered travelling through the district slow and uncertain, were
augmented by the density of the fog which overhung every thing.
Sir Aymer, therefore, occasionally mended his pace, and often incurred
the fate of one who is over-late, delaying himself by his efforts to
make greater expedition. The knight bethought himself that he would get
into a straight road by passing through the almost deserted town of
Douglas - the inhabitants of which had been treated so severely by the
English, in the course of those fierce troubles, that most of them who
were capable of bearing arms had left it, and withdrawn themselves to
different parts of the country. This almost deserted place was defended
by a rude palisade, and a ruder drawbridge, which gave entrance into
streets so narrow, as to admit with difficulty three horses abreast,
and evincing with what strictness the ancient lords of the village
adhered to their prejudice against fortifications, and their opinion in
favour of keeping the field, so quaintly expressed in the well-known
proverb of the family, - "It is better to hear the lark sing than the
mouse cheep." The streets, or rather the lanes, were dark, but for a
shifting gleam of moonlight, which, as that planet began to rise, was
now and then visible upon some steep and narrow gable. No sound of
domestic industry, or domestic festivity, was heard, and no ray of
candle or firelight glanced from the windows of the houses; the ancient
ordinance called the curfew, which the Conqueror had introduced into
England, was at this time in full force in such parts of Scotland as
were thought doubtful, and likely to rebel; under which description it
need not be said the ancient possessions of the Douglas were most
especially regarded. The Church, whose Gothic monuments were of a
magnificent character, had been, as far as possible, destroyed by fire;
but the ruins, held together by the weight of the massive stones of
which they were composed, still sufficiently evinced the greatness of
the family at whose cost it had been raised, and whose bones, from
immemorial time, had been entombed in its crypts.
Paying little attention to these relics of departed splendour, Sir
Aymer de Valence advanced with his small detachment, and had passed the
scattered fragments of the cemetery of the Douglasses, when to his
surprise, the noise of his horse's feet was seemingly replied to by
sounds which rung like those of another knightly steed advancing
heavily up the street, as if it were to meet him. Valence was unable to
conjecture what might be the cause of these warlike sounds; the ring
and the clang of armour was distinct, and the heavy tramp of a war-
horse was not to be mistaken by the ear of a warrior. The difficulty of
keeping soldiers from straying out of quarters by night, would have
sufficiently accounted for the appearance of a straggling foot-soldier;
but it was more difficult to account for a mounted horseman, in full
armour; and such was the apparition which a peculiarly bright glimpse
of moonlight now showed at the bottom of the causewayed hill. Perhaps
the unknown warrior obtained at the same time a glance of Aymer de
Valence and his armed followers - at least each of them shouted "Who
goes there?" - the alarm of the times; and on the instant the deep
answers of "St. George!" on the one side, and "The Douglas!" on the
other, awakened the still echoes of the small and ruinous street, and
the silent arches of the dilapidated church. Astonished at a war-cry
with which so many recollections were connected, the English knight
spurred his horse at full gallop down the steep and broken descent
leading out at the south or south-east gate of the town; and it was the
work of an instant to call out, "Ho! Saint George! upon the insolent
villain all of you! - To the gate, Fabian, and cut him off from flight!
- Saint George! I say, for England! Bows and bills! - bows and bills!" At
the same time Aymer de Valence laid in rest his own long lance, which
he snatched from the squire by whom it was carried. But the light was
seen and gone in an instant, and though De Valence concluded that the
hostile warrior had hardly room to avoid his career, yet he could take
no aim for the encounter, unless by mere guess, and continued to plunge
down the dark declivity, among shattered stones and other encumbrances,
without groping out with his lance the object of his pursuit. He rode,
in short, at a broken gallop, a descent of about fifty or sixty yards,
without having any reason to suppose that he had met the figure which
had appeared to him, although the narrowness of the street scarcely
admitted his having passed him, unless both horse and horseman could
have melted at the moment of encounter like an air-bubble. The riders
of his suite, meanwhile, were struck with a feeling like supernatural
terror, which a number of singular adventures, had caused most of them
to attach to the name of Douglas; and when he reached the gate by which
the broken street was terminated, there was none close behind him but
Fabian, in whose head no suggestions of a timorous nature could outlive
the sound of his dear master's voice.
Here there were a post of English, archers, who were turning out in
considerable alarm, when De Valence and his page rode in amongst them.
"Villains!" shouted De Valence, "why were you not upon your duty? Who
was it passed through your post even now, with the traitorous cry of
Douglas?"
"We know of no such," said the captain of the watch.
"That is to say, you besotted villains," answered the young knight,
"you have been drinking, and have slept?"
The men protested the contrary, but in a confused manner, which was far
from overcoming De Valence's suspicions. He called loudly to bring
cressets, torches, and candles; and a few remaining inhabitants began
to make their unwilling appearance, with such various means of giving
light as they chanced to possess. They heard the story of the young
English knight with wonder; nor, although it was confirmed by all his
retinue, did they give credit to the recital, more than that the
Englishmen wished somehow or other to pick a quarrel with the people of
the palace, under the pretence of their having admitted a retainer of
their ancient lord by night into the town. They protested, therefore,
their innocence of the cause of tumult, and endeavoured to seem active
in hastening from house to house, and corner to corner, with their
torches, in order to discover the invisible cavalier. The English
suspected them no less of treachery, than the Scottish imagined the
whole matter a pretext for bringing an accusation, on the part of the
young knight, against the citizens. The women, however, who now began
to issue from the houses, had a key for the solution of the apparition,
which at that time was believed of efficacy sufficient to solve any
mystery. "The devil," they said, "must have appeared visibly amongst
them," an explanation which had already occurred to the followers of
the young knight; for that a living man and horse, both as it seemed,
of a gigantic size, could be conjured in the twinkling of an eye, and
appear in a street secured at one end by the best of the archers, and
at the other by the horsemen under Valence himself, was altogether, it
seemed, a thing impossible. The inhabitants did not venture to put
their thoughts on the subject into language, for fear of giving offence,
and only indicated by a passing word to each other the secret degree of
pleasure which they felt in the confusion and embarrassment of the
English garrison. Still, however, they continued to affect a great deal
of interest in the alarm which De Valence had received, and the anxiety
which he expressed to discover the cause.
At length a female voice spoke above the Babel of confused sounds,
saying, "Where is the Southern Knight? I am sure that I can tell him
where he can find the only person who can help him out of his present
difficulty."
"And who is that, good woman?" said Aymer de Valence, who was growing
every moment more impatient at the loss of time, which was flying fast,
in an investigation which had something vexatious in it, and even
ridiculous. At the same time, the sight of an armed partisan of the
Douglasses, in their own native town, seemed to bode too serious
consequences, if it should be suffered to pass without being probed to
the bottom.
"Come hither to me," said the female voice, "and I will name to you the
only person who can explain all matters of this kind that chance in
this country." On this the knight snatched a torch from some of those
who were present, and holding it up, descried the person who spoke, a
tall woman, who evidently endeavoured to render herself remarkable.
When he approached her, she communicated her intelligence in a grave
and sententious tone of voice.
"We had once wise men, that could have answered any parables which
might have been put to them for explanation in this country side.
Whether you yourselves, gentlemen, have not had some hand in weeding
them out, good troth, it is not for the like of me to say; at any rate,
good counsel is not so easy come by as it was in this Douglas country,
nor, may be, is it a safe thing to pretend to the power of giving it."
"Good woman," said De Valence, "if you will give me an explanation of
this mystery, I will owe you a kirtle of the best raploch grey."
"It is not I," said the old woman, "that pretend to possess the
knowledge which may assist you; but I would fain know that the man whom
I shall name to you shall be skaithless and harmless. Upon your
knighthood and your honour, will you promise to me so much?"
"Assuredly," said De Valence, "such a person shall even have thanks and
reward, if he is a faithful informer; ay, and pardon, moreover,
although he may have listened to any dangerous practices, or been
concerned in any plots."
"Oh! not he," replied the female; "it is old Goodman Powheid, who has
the charge of the muniments," (meaning probably monuments,) "that is,
such part of them as you English have left standing; I mean the old
sexton of the kirk of Douglas, who can tell more stories of these old
folk, whom your honour is not very fond of hearing named, than would
last us from this day to Yule."
"Does anybody," said the knight, "know whom it is that this old woman
means?"
"I conjecture," replied Fabian, "that she speaks of an old dotard, who
is, I think, the general referee concerning the history and antiquities
of this old town, and of the savage family that lived here perhaps
before the flood."
"And who, I dare say," said the knight, "knows as much about the matter
as she herself does. But where is this man? a sexton is he? He may be
acquainted with places of concealment, which are often fabricated in
Gothic buildings, and known to those whose business calls them to
frequent them. Come, my good old dame, bring this man to me; or, what
may be better, I will go to him, for we have already spent too much
time."
"Time!" replied the old woman, - "is time an object with your honour? I
am sure I can hardly get so much for mine as will hold soul and body
together. You are not far from the old man's house."
She led the way accordingly, blundering over heaps of rubbish, and
encountering all the embarrassments of a ruinous street, in lighting
the way to Sir Aymer, who, giving his horse to one of his attendants,
and desiring Fabian to be ready at a call, scrambled after as well as
the slowness of his guide would permit.
Both were soon involved in the remains of the old church, much
dilapidated as it had been by wanton damage done to it by the soldiery,
and so much impeded by rubbish, that the knight marvelled how the old
woman could find the way. She kept talking all the while as she
stumbled onward. Sometimes she called out in a screeching tone,
"Powheid! Lazarus Powheid!" - and then muttered - -"Ay, ay, the old man
will be busy with some of his duties, as he calls them; I wonder he
fashes wi' them in these times. But never mind, I warrant they will
last for his day and for mine; and the times, Lord help us! for all
that I can see, are well enough for those that are to live in them."
"Are you sure, good woman," replied the knight, "that there is any