knight, in his haste, spoke without giving me warning and defiance,
which gave him an advantage which, I think, he would otherwise have
scorned to have taken, in such a case, I will renew the combat on
fairer terms, or call another champion, as the knight pleases." With
these words he disappeared.
"Fear not, empress of De Walton's thoughts," answered the knight, "but
believe, that if we regain together the shelter of Douglas Castle, and
the safeguard of Saint George's Cross, thou may'st laugh at all. And if
you can but pardon, what I shall never be able to forgive myself, the
mole-like blindness which did not recognise the sun while under a
temporary eclipse, the task cannot be named too hard for mortal valour
to achieve which I shall not willingly undertake, to wipe out the
memory of my grievous fault."
"Mention it no more," said the lady; "it is not at such a time as - this,
when our lives are for the moment at stake, that quarrels upon slighter
topics are to be recurred to. I can tell you, if you do not yet know,
that the Scots are in arms in this vicinity, and that even the earth
has yawned to conceal them from the sight of your garrison."
"Let it yawn, then," said Sir John de Walton, "and suffer every fiend
in the infernal abyss to escape from his prison-house and reinforce our
enemies - still, fairest, having received in thee a pearl of matchless
price, my spurs shall be hacked from my heels by the basest scullion,
if I turn my horse's head to the rear before the utmost force these
ruffians can assemble, either upon earth or from underneath it. In thy
name I defy them all to instant combat."
As Sir John de Walton pronounced these last words, in something of an
exalted tone, a tall cavalier, arrayed in black armour of the simplest
form, stepped forth from that part of the thicket where Turnbull had
disappeared. "I am," he said, "James of Douglas, and your challenge is
accepted. I, the challenged, name the arms our knightly weapons as we
now wear them, and our place of combat this field or dingle, called the
Bloody Sykes, the time being instant, and the combatants, like true
knights, foregoing each advantage on either side." [Footnote: The
ominous name of Bloodmire-sink or Syke, marks a narrow hollow to the
north-west of Douglas Castle, from which it is distant about the third
of a mile. Mr. Haddow states, that according to local tradition, the
name was given in consequence of Sir James Douglas having at this spot
intercepted and slain part of the garrison of the castle, while De
Walton was in command.]
"So be it, in God's name," said the English knight, who, though
surprised at being called upon to so sudden an encounter with so
formidable a warrior as young Douglas, was too proud to dream of
avoiding the combat. Making a sign to the lady to retire behind him,
that he might not lose the advantage which he had gained by setting her
at liberty from the forester, he drew his sword, and with a deliberate
and prepared attitude of offence, moved slowly to the encounter. It was
a dreadful one, for the courage and skill both of the native Lord of
Douglas Dale, and of De Walton, among the most renowned of the times,
and perhaps the world of chivalry could hardly have produced two
knights more famous. Their blows fell as if urged by some mighty engine,
where they were met and parried with equal strength and dexterity; nor
seemed it likely, in the course of ten minutes' encounter, that an
advantage would be gained by either combatant over the other. An
instant they stopped by mutually implied assent, as it seemed, for the
purpose of taking breath, during which Douglas said, "I beg that this
noble lady may understand, that her own freedom is no way concerned in
the present contest, which entirely regards the injustice done by this
Sir John de Walton, and by his nation of England, to the memory of my
father, and to my own natural rights."
"You are generous, Sir Knight," replied the lady; "but in what
circumstances do you place me, if you deprive me of my protector by
death or captivity, and leave me alone in a foreign land?"
"If such should be the event of the combat," replied Sir James, "the
Douglas himself, lady, will safely restore thee to thy native land; for
never did his sword do an injury for which he was not willing to make
amends with the same weapon; and if Sir John de Walton will make the
slightest admission that he renounces maintaining the present strife,
were it only by yielding up a feather from the plume of his helmet,
Douglas will renounce every purpose on his part which can touch the
lady's honour or safety, and the combat may be suspended until the
national quarrel again brings us together."
Sir John de Walton pondered a moment, and the lady, although she did
not speak, looked at him with eyes which plainly expressed how much she
wished that he would choose the less hazardous alternative. But the
knight's own scruples prevented his bringing the case to so favourable
an arbitrement.
"Never shall it be said of Sir John de Walton," he replied, "that he
compromised, in the slightest degree, his own honour, or that of his
country. This battle may end in my defeat, or rather death, and in that
case my earthly prospects are closed, and I resign to Douglas, with my
last breath, the charge of the Lady Augusta, trusting that he will
defend her with his life, and find the means of replacing her with
safety in the halls of her fathers. But while I survive, she may have a
better, but will not need another protector than he who is honoured by
being her own choice; nor will I yield up, were it a plume from my
helmet, implying that I have maintained an unjust quarrel, either in
the cause of England, or of the fairest of her daughters. Thus far
alone I will concede to Douglas - an instant truce, provided the lady
shall not be interrupted in her retreat to England, and the combat be
fought out upon another day. The castle and territory of Douglas is the
property of Edward of England, the governor in his name is the rightful
governor, and on this point I will fight while my eyelids are
unclosed."
"Time flies," said Douglas, "without waiting for our resolves; nor is
there any part of his motions of such value as that which is passing
with every breath of vital air which we presently draw. Why should we
adjourn till to-morrow that which can be as well finished today? Will
our swords be sharper, or our arms stronger to wield them, than they
are at this moment? Douglas will do all which knight can do to succour
a lady in distress; but he will not grant to her knight the slightest
mark of deference, which Sir John de Walton vainly supposes himself
able to extort by force of arms."
With these words, the knights engaged once more in mortal combat, and
the lady felt uncertain whether she should attempt her escape through
the devious paths of the wood, or abide the issue of this obstinate
fight. It was rather her desire to see the fate of Sir John de Walton,
than any other consideration, which induced her to remain, as if
fascinated, upon the spot, where one of the fiercest quarrels ever
fought - was disputed by two of the bravest champions that ever drew
sword. At last the lady attempted to put a stop to the combat, by
appealing to the bells which began to ring for the service of the day,
which was Palm Sunday.
"For Heaven's sake," she said - "for your own sakes, and for that of
lady's love, and the duties of chivalry, hold your hands only for an
hour, and take chance, that where strength is so equal, means will be
found of converting the truce into a solid peace. Think this is Palm
Sunday, and will you defile with blood such a peculiar festival of
Christianity! Intermit your feud at least so far as to pass to the
nearest church, bearing with you branches, not in the ostentatious mode
of earthly conquerors, but as rendering due homage to the rules of the
blessed Church, and the institutions of our holy religion."
"I was on my road, fair lady, for that purpose, to the holy church of
Douglas," said the Englishman, "when I was so fortunate as to meet you
at this place; nor do I object to proceed thither even, now, holding
truce for an hour, and I fear not to find there friends to whom I can
commit you with assurance of safety, in case I am unfortunate in the
combat which is now broken off, to be resumed after the service of the
day."
"I also assent," said the Douglas, "to a truce for such short space;
nor do I fear that there may be good Christians enough at the church,
who will not see their master overpowered by odds. Let us go thither,
and each take the chance of what Heaven shall please to send us."
From these words Sir John de Walton little doubted that Douglas had
assured himself of a party among those who should there assemble; but
he doubted not of so many of the garrison being present as would bridle
every attempt at rising; and the risk, he thought, was worth incurring,
since ha should thereby secure an opportunity to place Lady Augusta de
Berkely in safety, at least so far as to make her liberty depend on the
event of a general conflict, instead of the precarious issue of a
combat between himself and Douglas.
Both these distinguished knights were inwardly of opinion, that the
proposal of the lady, though it relieved them from their present
conflict, by no means bound them to abstain from the consequences which
an accession of force might add to their general strength, and each
relied upon his superiority, in some degree provided for by their
previous proceedings. Sir John de Walton made almost certain of meeting
with several of his bands of soldiers, who were scouring the country
and traversing the woods by his direction; and Douglas, it may be
supposed, had not ventured himself in person, where a price was set
upon his head, without being attended by a sufficient number of
approved adherents, placed in more or less connexion with each other,
and stationed for mutual support. Each, therefore, entertained well-
grounded hopes, that by adopting the truce proposed, he would ensure
himself an advantage over his antagonist, although neither exactly knew
in what manner or to what extent this success was to be obtained.
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH.
His talk was of another world - his bodiments
Strange, doubtful, and mysterious; those who heard him
Listen'd as to a man in feverish dreams,
Who speaks of other objects than the present,
And mutters like to him who sees a vision.
OLD PLAY.
On the same Palm Sunday when De Walton and Douglas measured together
their mighty swords, the minstrel Bertram was busied with the ancient
Book of Prophecies, which we have already mentioned as the supposed
composition of Thomas the Rhymer, but not without many anxieties as to
the fate of his lady, and the events which were passing around him. As
a minstrel he was desirous of an auditor to enter into the discoveries
which he should make in that mystic volume, as well as to assist in
passing away the time; Sir John de Walton had furnished him, in Gilbert
Greenleaf the archer, with one who was well contented to play the
listener "from morn to dewy eve," provided a flask of Gascon wine, or a
stoup of good English ale, remained on the board. It may be remembered
that De Walton, when he dismissed the minstrel from the dungeon, was
sensible that he owed him some compensation for the causeless suspicion
which had dictated his imprisonment, more particularly as he was a
valued servant, and had shown himself the faithful confidant of the
Lady Augusta de Berkely, and the person who was moreover likely to know
all the motives and circumstances of her Scottish journey. To secure
his good wishes was, therefore, politic; and De Walton had intimated to
his faithful archer that he was to lay aside all suspicion of Bertram,
but at the same time keep him in sight, and, if possible, in good
humour with the governor of the castle, and his adherents. Greenleaf
accordingly had no doubt in his own mind, that the only way to please a
minstrel was to listen with patience and commendation to the lays which
he liked best to sing, or the tales which he most loved to tell; and in
order to ensure the execution of his master's commands, he judged it
necessary to demand of the butler such store of good liquor, as could
not fail to enhance the pleasure of his society.
Having thus fortified himself with the means of bearing a long
interview with the minstrel, Gilbert Greenleaf proposed to confer upon
him the bounty of an early breakfast, which, if it pleased him, they
might wash down with a cup of sack, and, having his master's commands
to show the minstrel any thing about the castle which he might wish to
see, refresh their overwearied spirits by attending a part of the
garrison of Douglas to the service of the day, which, as we have
already seen, was of peculiar sanctity. Against such a proposal the
minstrel, a good Christian by profession, and, by his connexion with
the joyous science, a good fellow, having no objections to offer, the
two comrades, who had formerly little good-will towards each other,
commenced their morning's repast on that fated Palm Sunday, with all
manner of cordiality and good fellowship.
"Do not believe, worthy minstrel," said the archer, "that my master in
any respect disparages your worth or rank in referring you for company
or conversation to so poor a man as myself. It is true I am no officer
of this garrison; yet for an old archer, who, for these thirty years,
has lived by bow and bowstring, I do not (Our Lady make me thankful!)
hold less share in the grace of Sir John de Walton, the Earl of
Pembroke, and other approved good soldiers, than many of those giddy
young men on whom commissions are conferred, and to whom confidences
are intrusted, not on account of what they have done, but what their
ancestors have done before them. I pray you to notice among them one
youth placed at our head in De Walton's absence, and who bears the
honoured name of Aymer de Valence, being the same with that of the Earl
of Pembroke, of whom I have spoken; this knight has also a brisk young
page, whom men call Fabian Harbothel."
"Is it to these gentlemen that your censure applies?" answered the
minstrel; "I should have judged differently, having never, in the
course of my experience, seen a young man more courteous and amiable
than the young knight you named."
"I nothing dispute that it may be so," said the archer, hastening to
amend the false step which he had made; "but in order that it should be
so, it will be necessary that he conform to the usages of his uncle,
taking the advice of experienced old soldiers in the emergencies which
may present themselves; and not believing, that the knowledge which it
takes many years of observation to acquire, can be at once conferred by
the slap of the flat of a sword, and the magic words, 'Rise up, Sir
Arthur' - or however the case may be."
"Doubt not, Sir Archer," replied Bertram, "that I am fully aware of the
advantage to be derived from conversing with men of experience like
you: it benefiteth men of every persuasion, and I myself am oft reduced
to lament my want of sufficient knowledge of armorial bearings, signs,
and cognizances, and would right fain have thy assistance, where I am a
stranger alike to the names of places, of persons, and description of
banners and emblems by which great families are distinguished from each
other, so absolutely necessary to the accomplishment of my present
task."
"Pennons and banners," answered the archer, "I have seen right many,
and can assign, as is a soldier's wont, the name of the leader to the
emblem under which he musters his followers; nevertheless, worthy
minstrel, I cannot presume to understand what you call prophecies, with
or under warranted authority of old painted books, expositions of
dreams, oracles, revelations, invocations of damned spirits, judicials,
astrologicals, and other gross and palpable offences, whereby men,
pretending to have the assistance of the devil, do impose upon the
common people, in spite of the warnings of the Privy Council; not
however, that I suspect you, worthy minstrel, of busying yourself with
these attempts to explain futurity, which are dangerous attempts, and
may be truly said to be penal, and part of treason."
"There is something in what you say," replied the minstrel; "yet it
applieth not to books and manuscripts such as I have been consulting;
part, of which things therein written having already come to pass,
authorize us surely to expect the completion of the rest; nor would I
have much difficulty in showing you from this volume, that enough has
been already proved true, to entitle us to look with certainty to the
accomplishment of that which remains."
"I should be glad to hear that," answered the archer, who entertained
little more than a soldier's belief respecting prophecies and auguries,
but yet cared not bluntly to contradict the minstrel upon such subjects,
as he had been instructed by Sir John de Walton to comply with his
humour. Accordingly the minstrel began to recite verses, which, in our
time, the ablest interpreter could not make sense out of.
"When the cook crows, keep well his comb,
For the fox and the fulmart they are false both.
When the raven and the rook have rounded together,
And the kid in his cliff shall accord to the same.
Then shall they be bold, and soon to battle thereafter.
Then the birds of the raven rugs and reives,
And the leal men of Lothian, are louping on their horse;
Then shall the poor people be spoiled full near,
And the Abbeys be burnt truly that stand upon Tweed
They shall burn and slay, and great reif make:
There shall no poor man who say whose man he is:
Then shall the land be lawless, for love there is none.
Then falset shall have foot fully five years;
Then truth surely shall be tint, and none shall lippen to other;
The one cousing shall not trust the other,
Not the son the father, nor the father the son:
For to have his goods he would have him hanged."
&c. &c. &c.
The archer listened to these mystic prognostications, which were not
the less wearisome that they were, in a considerable degree,
unintelligible; at the same time subduing his Hotspur-like disposition
to tire of the recitation, yet at brief intervals comforting himself
with an application to the wine flagon, and enduring as he might what
he neither understood nor took interest in. Meanwhile the minstrel
proceeded with his explanation of the dubious and imperfect
vaticinations of which we have given a sufficient specimen.
"Could you wish," said he to Greenleaf, "a more exact description of
the miseries which have passed over Scotland in these latter days? Have
not these the raven and rook, the fox and the fulmart, explained;
either because the nature of the birds or beasts bear an individual
resemblance to those of the knights who display them on their banners,
or otherwise are bodied forth by actual blazonry on their shields, and
come openly into the field to ravage and destroy? Is not the total
disunion of the land plainly indicated by these words, that connexions
of blood shall be broken asunder, that kinsmen shall not trust each
other, and that the father and son, instead, of putting faith in their
natural connexion, shall seek each other's life, in order to enjoy his
inheritance? The _leal men_ of Lothian are distinctly mentioned as
taking arms, and there is plainly allusion to the other events of these
late Scottish troubles. The death of this last William is obscurely
intimated under the type of a hound, which was that good lord's
occasional cognizance.
'The hound that was harm'd then muzzled shall be,
Who loved him worst shall weep for his wreck;
Yet shall a whelp rise of the same race,
That rudely shall roar, and rule the whole north,
And quit the whole quarrel of old deeds done,
Though he from his hold be kept back awhile.
True Thomas told me this in a troublesome time,
In a harvest morning at Eldoun hills.'"
"This hath a meaning, Sir Archer," continued the minstrel, "and which
flies as directly to its mark as one of your own arrows, although there
may be some want of wisdom in making the direct explication. Being,
however, upon assurance with you, I do not hesitate to tell you, that
in my opinion this lion's whelp that awaits its time, means this same
celebrated Scottish prince, Robert the Bruce, who, though repeatedly
defeated, has still, while hunted with bloodhounds, and surrounded by
enemies of every sort, maintained his pretensions to the crown of
Scotland, in despite of King Edward, now reigning."
"Minstrel," answered the soldier, "you are my guest, and we have sat
down together as friends to this simple meal in good comradeship. I
must tell thee, however, though I am loath to disturb our harmony, that
thou art the first who hast adventured to speak a word before Gilbert
Greenleaf in favour of that outlawed traitor, Robert Bruce, who has by
his seditions so long disturbed the peace of this realm. Take my advice,
and be silent on this topic; for, believe me, the sword of a true
English archer will spring from its scabbard without consent of its
master, should it hear aught said to the disparagement of bonny St.
George and his ruddy cross; nor shall the authority of Thomas the
Rhymer, or any other prophet in Scotland, England, or Wales, be
considered as an apology for such unbecoming predictions."
"I were loth to give offence at any time," said the minstrel, "much
more to provoke you to anger, when I am in the very act of experiencing
your hospitality. I trust, however, you will remember that I do not
come your uninvited guest, and that if I speak to you of future events,
I do so without having the least intention to add my endeavour to bring
them to pass; for, God knows, it is many years since my sincere prayer
has been for peace and happiness to all men, and particularly honour
and happiness to the land of Bowmen, in which I was born, and which I
am bound to remember in my prayers beyond all other nations in the
world."
"It is well that you do so," said the archer; "for so you shall best
maintain your bounden duty to the fair land of your birth, which is the
richest that the sun shines upon. Something, however, I would know, if
it suits with your pleasure to tell me, and that is, whether you find
anything in these rude rhymes appearing to affect the safety of the
Castle of Douglas, where we now are? - for, mark me, Sir Minstrel, I
have observed that these mouldering parchments, when or by whomsoever
composed, have so far a certain coincidence with the truth, that when
such predictions which they contain are spread abroad in the country,
and create rumours of plots, conspiracies, and bloody wars, they are
very apt to cause the very mischances which they would be thought only
to predict."
"It were not very cautious in me," said the minstrel, "to choose a
prophecy for my theme, which had reference to any attack on this
garrison; for in such case I should, according to your ideas, lay
myself under suspicion of endeavouring to forward what no person could
more heartily regret than myself."
"Take my word for it, good friend," said the archer, "that it shall not
be thus with thee; for I neither will myself conceive ill of thee, nor
report thee to Sir John de Walton as meditating harm against him or his
garrison - nor, to speak truth, would Sir John de Walton be willing to
believe anyone who did. He thinks highly, and no doubt deservedly, of
thy good faith towards thy lady, and would conceive it unjust to
suspect the fidelity of one who has given evidence of his willingness
to meet death rather than betray the least secret of his mistress."
"In preserving her secret," said Bertram, "I only discharged the duty
of a faithful servant, leaving it to her to judge how long such a
secret ought to be preserved; for a faithful servant ought to think as
little of the issue towards himself of the commission which he bears,
as the band of flock silk concerns itself with the secret of the letter
which it secures. And, touching your question - I have no objections,
although merely to satisfy your curiosity, to unfold to you that these
old prophecies do contain some intimations of wars befalling in Douglas
Dale, between an haggard, or wild hawk, which I take to be the
cognizance of Sir John de Walton, and the three stars, or martlets,
which is the cognizance of the Douglas; and more particulars I could
tell of these onslaughts, did I know whereabouts is a place in these
woods termed Bloody Sykes, the scene also, as I comprehend, of
slaughter and death, between the followers of the three stars and those
who hold the part of the Saxon, or King of England."
"Such a place," replied Gilbert Greenleaf, "I have heard often
mentioned by that name among the natives of these parts; nevertheless
it is vain to seek to discover the precise spot, as these wily Scots
conceal from us with care every thing respecting the geography of their
country, as it is called by learned men; but we may here mention the
Bloody Sykes, Bottomless Myre, and other places, as portentous names,
to which their traditions attach some signification of war and
slaughter. If it suits your wish, however, we can, on our way to the
church, try to find this place called Bloody Sykes, which I doubt not
we shall trace out long before the traitors who meditate an attack upon
us will find a power sufficient for the attempt."
Accordingly the minstrel and archer, the latter of whom was by this
time reasonably well refreshed with wine, marched out of the castle of
Douglas, without waiting for others of the garrison, resolving to seek
the dingle bearing the ominous name of Bloody Sykes, concerning which
the archer only knew that by mere accident he had heard of a place
bearing such a name, at the hunting match made under the auspices of
Sir John de Walton, and knew that it lay in the woods somewhere near
the town of Douglas and in the vicinage of the castle.
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH.
_Hotspur_. I cannot choose; sometimes he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,
A clipt-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat.
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff,
As puts me from my faith.
KING HENRY IV.
The conversation between the minstrel and the ancient archer naturally
pursued a train somewhat resembling that of Hotspur and Glendower, in
which Gilbert Greenleaf by degrees took a larger share than was
apparently consistent with his habits and education: but the truth was
that as he exerted himself to recall the recognisances of military
chieftains, their war-cries, emblems, and other types by which they
distinguished themselves in battle, and might undoubtedly be indicated
in prophetic rhymes, he began to experience the pleasure which most men
entertain when they find themselves unexpectedly possessed of a faculty
which the moment calls upon them to employ, and renders them important
in the possession of. The minstrel's sound good sense was certainly
somewhat surprised at the inconsistencies sometimes displayed by his
companion, as he was carried off by the willingness to make show of his
newly-discovered faculty on the one hand, and, on the other, to call to
mind the prejudices which he had nourished during his whole life
against minstrels, who, with the train of legends and fables, were the
more likely to be false, as being generally derived from the "North
Countrie."
As they strolled from one glade of the forest to another, the minstrel
began to be surprised at the number of Scottish votaries whom they met,
and who seemed to be hastening to the church, and, as it appeared by
the boughs which they carried, to assist in the ceremony of the day. To
each of these the archer put a question respecting the existence of a
place called Bloody Sykes, and where it was to be found - but all seemed
either to be ignorant on the subject, or desirous of evading it, for
which they found some pretext in the jolly archer's manner of
interrogation, which savoured a good deal of the genial breakfast. The
general answer was, that they knew no such place, or had other matters
to attend to upon the morn of a holy-tide than answering frivolous
questions. At last, when, in one or two; instances, the answer of the
Scottish almost approached to sullenness, the minstrel remarked it,
observing that there was ever some mischief on foot when the people of
this country could not find a civil answer to their betters, which is
usually so ready among them, and that they appeared to be making a
strong muster for the service of Palm Sunday.
"You will doubtless, Sir Archer," continued the minstrel, "make your
report to your knight accordingly; for I promise you, that if you do
not, I myself, whose lady's freedom is also concerned, will feel it my
duty to place before Sir John de Walton the circumstances which make me
entertain suspicion of this extraordinary confluence of Scottish men,
and the surliness which has replaced their wonted courtesy of manners."
"Tush, Sir Minstrel," replied the archer, displeased at Bertram's
interference, "believe me, that armies have ere now depended on my
report to the general, which has always been perspicuous and clear,
according to the duties of war. Your walk, my worthy friend, has been
in a separate department, such as affairs of peace, old songs,
prophecies, and the like, in which it is far from my thoughts to
contend with you; but credit me, it will be most for the reputation, of
both, that we do not attempt to interfere with what concerns each
other."
"It is far from my wish to do so," replied the minstrel; "but I would.
wish that a speedy return should be made to the castle, in order to ask
Sir John de Walton's opinion of that which we have but just seen."
"To this," replied Greenleaf, "there can be no objection; but, would
you seek the governor at the hour which now is, you will find him most
readily by going to the church of Douglas, to which he regularly wends
on occasions such as the present, with the principal part of his
officers, to ensure, by his presence, that no tumult arise (of which
there is no little dread) between the English and the Scottish. Let us
therefore hold to our original intention of attending the service of
the day, and we shall rid ourselves of these entangled woods, and gain
the shortest road to the church of Douglas."
"Let us go, then, with all despatch," said the minstrel; "and with the
greater haste, that it appears to me that something has passed on this
very spot this morning, which argues that the Christian peace due to
the day has not been inviolably observed. What mean these drops of
blood?" alluding to those which had flowed from the wounds of Turnbull -
"Wherefore is the earth impressed with these deep tints, the footsteps
of armed men advancing and retreating, doubtless, according to the
chances of a fierce and heady conflict?"
"By Our Lady," returned Greenleaf, "I must own that thou seest clear.
What were my eyes made of when they permitted thee to be the first
discoverer of these signs of conflict? Here are feathers of a blue
plume, which I ought to remember, seeing my knight assumed it, or at
least permitted me to place it in his helmet, this morning, in sign of
returning hope, from the liveliness of its colour. But here it lies,
shorn from his head, and, if I may guess, by no friendly hand. Come,
friend, to the church - to the church - and thou shalt have my example of
the manner in which De Walton ought to be supported when in danger."
He led the way through the town of Douglas, entering at the southern
gate, and up the very street in which Sir Aymer de Valence had charged
the Phantom Knight.
We can now say more fully, that the church of Douglas had originally
been a stately Gothic building, whose towers, arising high above the
walls of the town, bore witness to the grandeur of its original
construction. It was now partly ruinous, and the small portion of open
space which was retained for public worship was fitted up in the family
aisle where its deceased lords rested from worldly labours and the
strife of war. From the open ground in the front of the building, their
eye could pursue a considerable part of the course of the river Douglas,
which approached the town from the south-west, bordered by a line of
hills fantastically diversified in their appearance, and in many places
covered with copsewood, which descended towards the valley, and formed
a part of the tangled and intricate woodland by which the town was
surrounded. The river itself, sweeping round the west side of the town,
and from thence northward, supplied that large inundation or artificial
piece of water which we have already mentioned. Several of the Scottish
people, bearing willow branches, or those of yew, to represent the
palms which were the symbol of the day, seemed wandering in the
churchyard as if to attend the approach of some person of peculiar
sanctity, or procession, of monks and friars, come to render the homage
due to the solemnity. At the moment almost that Bertram and his
companion entered the churchyard, the Lady of Berkely, who was in the
act of following Sir John de Walton into the church, after having
witnessed his conflict with the young Knight of Douglas, caught a
glimpse of her faithful minstrel, and instantly determined to regain
the company of that old servant of her house and confidant of her
fortunes, and trust to the chance afterwards of being rejoined by Sir
John de Walton, with a sufficient party to provide for her safety,
which she in no respect doubted it would be his care to collect. She
darted away accordingly from the path in which she was advancing, and
reached the place where Bertram, with his new acquaintance Greenleaf,
were making some enquiries of the soldiers of the English garrison,
whom the service of the day had brought there.
Lady Augusta Berkely, in the meantime, had an opportunity to say
privately to her faithful attendant and guide, "Take no notice of me,
friend Bertram, but take heed, if possible, that we be not again
separated from each other." Having given him this hint, she observed
that it was adopted by the minstrel, and that he presently afterwards
looked round and set his eye upon her, as, muffled in her pilgrim's
cloak, she slowly withdrew to another part of the cemetery, and seemed
to halt, until, detaching himself from Greenleaf, he should find an
opportunity of joining her.
Nothing, in truth, could have more sensibly affected the faithful
minstrel than the singular mode of communication which acquainted him
that his mistress was safe, and at liberty to choose her own motions,
and, as he might hope, disposed to extricate herself from the dangers
which surrounded her in Scotland, by an immediate retreat to her own
country and domain. He would gladly have approached and joined her, but
she took an opportunity by a sign to caution him against doing so,
while at the same time he remained somewhat apprehensive of the
consequences of bringing her under the notice of his new friend,
Greenleaf, who might perhaps think it proper to busy himself so as to
gain some favour with the knight who was at the head of the garrison.
Meantime the old archer continued his conversation with Bertram, while
the minstrel, like many other men similarly situated, heartily wished
that his well-meaning companion had been a hundred fathoms under ground,
so his evanishment had given him license to join his mistress; but all
he had in his power was to approach her as near as he could, without
creating any suspicion.
"I would pray you, worthy minstrel," said Greenleaf, after looking
carefully round, "that we may prosecute together the theme which we
were agitating before we came hither; is it not your opinion, that the
Scottish natives have fixed this very morning for some of those
dangerous attempts which they have repeatedly made, and which are so
carefully guarded against by the governors placed in this district of
Douglas by our good King Edward, our rightful sovereign?"
"I cannot see," replied the minstrel, "on what grounds you found such
an apprehension, or what you see here in the churchyard different from
that you talked of as we approached it, when you held me rather in
scorn, for giving way to some suspicions of the same kind."
"Do you not see," added the archer, "the numbers of men, with strange
faces, and in various disguisements, who are thronging about these
ancient ruins, which are usually so solitary? Yonder, for example, sits
a boy who seems to shun observation, and whose dress, I will be sworn,
has never been shaped in Scotland."
"And if he is an English pilgrim," replied the minstrel, observing that
the archer pointed towards the Lady of Berkely, "he surely affords less
matter of suspicion."
"I know not that," said old Greenleaf, "but I think it will bo my duty
to inform Sir John de Walton, if I can reach him, that there are many
persons here, who in outward appearance neither belong to the garrison,
nor to this part of the country.'"
"Consider," said Bertram, "before you harass with accusation a poor
young man, and subject him to the consequences which must necessarily
attend upon suspicions of this nature, how many circumstances call
forth men peculiarly to devotion at this period. Not only is this the
time of the triumphal entrance of the founder of the Christian religion
into Jerusalem, but the day itself is called Dominica Confitentium, or
the Sunday of Confessors, and the palm-tree, or the box and yew, which
are used as its substitutes, and which are distributed to the priests,
are burnt solemnly to ashes, and those ashes distributed among the
pious, by the priests, upon the Ash-Wednesday of the succeeding year,
all which rites and ceremonies in our country, are observed, by order
of the Christian Church; nor ought you, gentle archer, nor can you
without a crime, persecute those as guilty of designs upon your
garrison, who can ascribe their presence here to their desire to
discharge the duties of the day; and look ye at yon numerous procession
approaching with banner and cross, and, as it appears, consisting of
some churchman of rank, and his attendants; let us first enquire who he
is, and it is probable we shall find in his name and rank sufficient
security for the peaceable and orderly behaviour of those whom piety
has this day assembled at the church of Douglas."
Greenleaf accordingly made the investigation recommended by his
companion, and received information that the holy man who headed the
procession, was no other than the diocesan of the district, the Bishop
of Glasgow, who had come to give his countenance to the rites with
which the day was to be sanctified.
The prelate accordingly entered the walls of the dilapidated churchyard,
preceded by his cross-bearers, and attended by numbers, with boughs of
yew and other evergreens, used on the festivity instead of palms. Among