CHAPTER XVII.
Nay, I will fit you for a young prince.
Falstaff.
We return to the revellers, who had, half an hour before, witnessed,with such boisterous applause, Oliver's feat of agility, being thelast which the poor bonnet maker was ever to exhibit, and at the hastyretreat which had followed it, animated by their wild shout. After theyhad laughed their fill, they passed on their mirthful path in frolic andjubilee, stopping and frightening some of the people whom they met, but,it must be owned, without doing them any serious injury, either in theirpersons or feelings. At length, tired with his rambles, their chief gavea signal to his merry men to close around him.
"We, my brave hearts and wise counsellors, are," he said, "the real kingover all in Scotland that is worth commanding. We sway the hours whenthe wine cup circulates, and when beauty becomes kind, when frolic isawake, and gravity snoring upon his pallet. We leave to our vice regent,King Robert, the weary task of controlling ambitious nobles, gratifyinggreedy clergymen, subduing wild Highlanders, and composing deadly feuds.And since our empire is one of joy and pleasure, meet it is that weshould haste with all our forces to the rescue of such as own our sway,when they chance, by evil fortune, to become the prisoners of care andhypochondriac malady. I speak in relation chiefly to Sir John, whom thevulgar call Ramorny. We have not seen him since the onslaught of CurfewStreet, and though we know he was somedeal hurt in that matter, wecannot see why he should not do homage in leal and duteous sort. Here,you, our Calabash King at arms, did you legally summon Sir John to hispart of this evening's revels?"
"I did, my lord."
"And did you acquaint him that we have for this night suspended hissentence of banishment, that, since higher powers have settled thatpart, we might at least take a mirthful leave of an old friend?"
"I so delivered it, my lord," answered the mimic herald.
"And sent he not a word in writing, he that piques himself upon being sogreat a clerk?"
"He was in bed, my lord, and I might not see him. So far as I hear, hehath lived very retired, harmed with some bodily bruises, malcontentwith your Highness's displeasure, and doubting insult in the streets, hehaving had a narrow escape from the burgesses, when the churls pursuedhim and his two servants into the Dominican convent. The servants, too,have been removed to Fife, lest they should tell tales."
"Why, it was wisely done," said the Prince, who, we need not inform theintelligent reader, had a better title to be so called than arose fromthe humours of the evening--"it was prudently done to keep light tonguedcompanions out of the way. But St. John's absenting himself from oursolemn revels, so long before decreed, is flat mutiny and disclamationof allegiance. Or, if the knight be really the prisoner of illness andmelancholy, we must ourself grace him with a visit, seeing there can beno better cure for those maladies than our own presence, and a gentlekiss of the calabash. Forward, ushers, minstrels, guard, and attendants!Bear on high the great emblem of our dignity. Up with the calabash, Isay, and let the merry men who carry these firkins, which are to supplythe wine cup with their life blood, be chosen with regard to their stateof steadiness. Their burden is weighty and precious, and if the faultis not in our eyes, they seem to us to reel and stagger more than weredesirable. Now, move on, sirs, and let our minstrels blow their blythestand boldest."
On they went with tipsy mirth and jollity, the numerous torches flashingtheir red light against the small windows of the narrow streets, fromwhence nightcapped householders, and sometimes their wives to boot,peeped out by stealth to see what wild wassail disturbed the peacefulstreets at that unwonted hour. At length the jolly train halted beforethe door of Sir John Ramorny's house, which a small court divided fromthe street.
Here they knocked, thundered, and halloo'd, with many denunciations ofvengeance against the recusants who refused to open the gates. The leastpunishment threatened was imprisonment in an empty hogshead, within themassamore [principal dungeon] of the Prince of Pastimes' feudal palace,videlicet, the ale cellar. But Eviot, Ramorny's page, heard and knewwell the character of the intruders who knocked so boldly, and thoughtit better, considering his master's condition, to make no answer atall, in hopes that the revel would pass on, than to attempt to deprecatetheir proceedings, which he knew would be to no purpose. His master'sbedroom looking into a little garden, his page hoped he might not bedisturbed by the noise; and he was confident in the strength of theoutward gate, upon which he resolved they should beat till they tiredthemselves, or till the tone of their drunken humour should change. Therevellers accordingly seemed likely to exhaust themselves in the noisethey made by shouting and beating the door, when their mock prince(alas! too really such) upbraided them as lazy and dull followers of thegod of wine and of mirth.
"Bring forward," he said, "our key, yonder it lies, and apply it to thisrebellious gate."
The key he pointed at was a large beam of wood, left on one side of thestreet, with the usual neglect of order characteristic of a Scottishborough of the period.
The shouting men of Ind instantly raised it in their arms, and,supporting it by their united strength, ran against the door with suchforce, that hasp, hinge, and staple jingled, and gave fair promise ofyielding. Eviot did not choose to wait the extremity of this battery: hecame forth into the court, and after some momentary questions for form'ssake, caused the porter to undo the gate, as if he had for the firsttime recognised the midnight visitors.
"False slave of an unfaithful master," said the Prince, "where is ourdisloyal subject, Sir John Ramorny, who has proved recreant to oursummons?"
"My lord," said Eviot, bowing at once to the real and to the assumeddignity of the leader, "my master is just now very much indisposed: hehas taken an opiate--and--your Highness must excuse me if I do my dutyto him in saying, he cannot be spoken with without danger of his life."
"Tush! tell me not of danger, Master Teviot--Cheviot--Eviot--what is itthey call thee? But show me thy master's chamber, or rather undo me thedoor of his lodging, and I will make a good guess at it myself. Bearhigh the calabash, my brave followers, and see that you spill not a dropof the liquor, which Dan Bacchus has sent for the cure of all diseasesof the body and cares of the mind. Advance it, I say, and let us see theholy rind which incloses such precious liquor."
The Prince made his way into the house accordingly, and, acquaintedwith its interior, ran upstairs, followed by Eviot, in vain imploringsilence, and, with the rest of the rabble rout, burst into the room ofthe wounded master of the lodging.
He who has experienced the sensation of being compelled to sleep inspite of racking bodily pains by the administration of a strong opiate,and of having been again startled by noise and violence out of theunnatural state of insensibility in which he had been plunged by thepotency of the medicine, may be able to imagine the confused and alarmedstate of Sir John Ramorny's mind, and the agony of his body, whichacted and reacted upon each other. If we add to these feelings theconsciousness of a criminal command, sent forth and in the act of beingexecuted, it may give us some idea of an awakening to which, in the mindof the party, eternal sleep would be a far preferable doom. The groanwhich he uttered as the first symptom of returning sensation hadsomething in it so terrific, that even the revellers were awed intomomentary silence; and as, from the half recumbent posture in whichhe had gone to sleep, he looked around the room, filled with fantasticshapes, rendered still more so by his disturbed intellects, he mutteredto himself:
"It is thus, then, after all, and the legend is true! These are fiends,and I am condemned for ever! The fire is not external, but I feel it--Ifeel it at my heart--burning as if the seven times heated furnace weredoing its work within!"
While he cast ghastly looks around him, and struggled to recover someshare of recollection, Eviot approached the Prince, and, falling on hisknees, implored him to allow the apartment to be cleared.
"It may," he said, "cost my master his life."
"Never fear, Cheviot," replied the Duke of Rothsay; "were
he at thegates of death, here is what should make the fiends relinquish theirprey. Advance the calabash, my masters."
"It is death for him to taste it in his present state," said Eviot: "ifhe drinks wine he dies."
"Some one must drink it for him--he shall be cured vicariously; andmay our great Dan Bacchus deign to Sir John Ramorny the comfort, theelevation of heart, the lubrication of lungs, and lightness of fancy,which are his choicest gifts, while the faithful follower, who quaffsin his stead, shall have the qualms, the sickness, the racking of thenerves, the dimness of the eyes, and the throbbing of the brain, withwhich our great master qualifies gifts which would else make us too likethe gods. What say you, Eviot? will you be the faithful follower thatwill quaff in your lord's behalf, and as his representative? Do this,and we will hold ourselves contented to depart, for, methinks, oursubject doth look something ghastly."
"I would do anything in my slight power," said Eviot, "to save my masterfrom a draught which may be his death, and your Grace from the sensethat you had occasioned it. But here is one who will perform the feat ofgoodwill, and thank your Highness to boot."
"Whom have we here?" said the Prince, "a butcher, and I think fresh fromhis office. Do butchers ply their craft on Fastern's Eve? Foh, how hesmells of blood!"
This was spoken of Bonthron, who, partly surprised at the tumult in thehouse, where he had expected to find all dark and silent, and partlystupid through the wine which the wretch had drunk in great quantities,stood in the threshold of the door, staring at the scene before him,with his buff coat splashed with blood, and a bloody axe in his hand,exhibiting a ghastly and disgusting spectacle to the revellers, whofelt, though they could not tell why, fear as well as dislike at hispresence.
As they approached the calabash to this ungainly and truculent lookingsavage, and as he extended a hand soiled as it seemed with blood, tograsp it, the Prince called out:
"Downstairs with him! let not the wretch drink in our presence; find himsome other vessel than our holy calabash, the emblem of our revels: aswine's trough were best, if it could be come by. Away with him! let himbe drenched to purpose, in atonement for his master's sobriety. Leave mealone with Sir John Ramorny and his page; by my honour, I like not yonruffian's looks."
The attendants of the Prince left the apartment, and Eviot aloneremained.
"I fear," said the Prince, approaching the bed in different form fromthat which he had hitherto used--"I fear, my dear Sir John, that thisvisit has been unwelcome; but it is your own fault. Although you knowour old wont, and were your self participant of our schemes for theevening, you have not come near us since St. Valentine's; it is nowFastern's Even, and the desertion is flat disobedience and treason toour kingdom of mirth and the statutes of the calabash."
Ramorny raised his head, and fixed a wavering eye upon the Prince; thensigned to Eviot to give him something to drink. A large cup of ptisanwas presented by the page, which the sick man swallowed with eager andtrembling haste. He then repeatedly used the stimulating essence leftfor the purpose by the leech, and seemed to collect his scatteredsenses.
"Let me feel your pulse, dear Ramorny," said the Prince; "I knowsomething of that craft. How! Do your offer me the left hand, Sir John?that is neither according to the rules of medicine nor of courtesy."
"The right has already done its last act in your Highness's service,"muttered the patient in a low and broken tone.
"How mean you by that?" said the Prince. "I am aware thy follower, BlackQuentin, lost a hand; but he can steal with the other as much as willbring him to the gallows, so his fate cannot be much altered."
"It is not that fellow who has had the loss in your Grace's service: itis I, John of Ramorny."
"You!" said the Prince; "you jest with me, or the opiate still mastersyour reason."
"If the juice of all the poppies in Egypt were blended in one draught,"said Ramorny, "it would lose influence over me when I look upon this."He drew his right arm from beneath the cover of the bedclothes, andextending it towards the Prince, wrapped as it was in dressings, "Werethese undone and removed," he said, "your Highness would see that abloody stump is all that remains of a hand ever ready to unsheath thesword at your Grace's slightest bidding."
Rothsay started back in horror. "This," he said, "must be avenged!"
"It is avenged in small part," said Ramorny--"that is, I thought I sawBonthron but now; or was it that the dream of hell that first arose inmy mind when I awakened summoned up an image so congenial? Eviot, callthe miscreant--that is, if he is fit to appear."
Eviot retired, and presently returned with Bonthron, whom he had rescuedfrom the penance, to him no unpleasing infliction, of a second calabashof wine, the brute having gorged the first without much apparentalteration in his demeanour.
"Eviot," said the Prince, "let not that beast come nigh me. My soulrecoils from him in fear and disgust: there is something in his looksalien from my nature, and which I shudder at as at a loathsome snake,from which my instinct revolts."
"First hear him speak, my lord," answered Ramorny; "unless a wineskinwere to talk, nothing could use fewer words. Hast thou dealt with him,Bonthron?"
The savage raised the axe which he still held in his hand, and broughtit down again edgeways.
"Good. How knew you your man? the night, I am told, is dark."
"By sight and sound, garb, gait, and whistle."
"Enough, vanish! and, Eviot, let him have gold and wine to his brutishcontentment. Vanish! and go thou with him."
"And whose death is achieved?" said the Prince, released from thefeelings of disgust and horror under which he suffered while theassassin was in presence. "I trust this is but a jest! Else must I callit a rash and savage deed. Who has had the hard lot to be butchered bythat bloody and brutal slave?"
"One little better than himself," said the patient, "a wretched artisan,to whom, however, fate gave the power of reducing Ramorny to a mutilatedcripple--a curse go with his base spirit! His miserable life is butto my revenge what a drop of water would be to a furnace. I must speakbriefly, for my ideas again wander: it is only the necessity of themoment which keeps them together; as a thong combines a handful ofarrows. You are in danger, my lord--I speak it with certainty: you havebraved Douglas, and offended your uncle, displeased your father, thoughthat were a trifle, were it not for the rest."
"I am sorry I have displeased my father," said the Prince, entirelydiverted from so insignificant a thing as the slaughter of an artisan bythe more important subject touched upon, "if indeed it be so. But ifI live, the strength of the Douglas shall be broken, and the craft ofAlbany shall little avail him!"
"Ay--if--if. My lord," said Ramorny, "with such opposites as you have,you must not rest upon if or but; you must resolve at once to slay or beslain."
"How mean you, Ramorny? Your fever makes you rave" answered the Duke ofRothsay.
"No, my lord," said Ramorny, "were my frenzy at the highest, thethoughts that pass through my mind at this moment would qualify it. Itmay be that regret for my own loss has made me desperate, that anxiousthoughts for your Highness's safety have made me nourish bold designs;but I have all the judgment with which Heaven has gifted me, when I tellyou that, if ever you would brook the Scottish crown, nay, more, if everyou would see another St. Valentine's Day, you must--"
"What is it that I must do, Ramorny?" said the Prince, with an air ofdignity; "nothing unworthy of myself, I hope?"
"Nothing, certainly, unworthy or misbecoming a prince of Scotland, ifthe bloodstained annals of our country tell the tale truly; but thatwhich may well shock the nerves of a prince of mimes and merry makers."
"Thou art severe, Sir John Ramorny," said the Duke of Rothsay, with anair of displeasure; "but thou hast dearly bought a right to censure usby what thou hast lost in our cause."
"My Lord of Rothsay," said the knight, "the chirurgeon who dressed thismutilated stump told me that the more I felt the pain his knife andbrand inflicted, the better was my chance of recovery. I shall not,th
erefore, hesitate to hurt your feelings, while by doing so I may beable to bring you to a sense of what is necessary for your safety. YourGrace has been the pupil of mirthful folly too long; you must now assumemanly policy, or be crushed like a butterfly on the bosom of the floweryou are sporting on."
"I think I know your cast of morals, Sir John: you are weary of merryfolly--the churchmen call it vice--and long for a little serious crime.A murder, now, or a massacre, would enhance the flavour of debauch, asthe taste of the olive gives zest to wine. But my worst acts are butmerry malice: I have no relish for the bloody trade, and abhor to see orhear of its being acted even on the meanest caitiff. Should I ever fillthe throne, I suppose, like my father before me, I must drop my ownname, and be dubbed Robert, in honour of the Bruce; well, an if it beso, every Scots lad shall have his flag on in one hand and the otheraround his lass's neck, and manhood shall be tried by kisses andbumpers, not by dirks and dourlachs; and they shall write on my grave,'Here lies Robert, fourth of his name. He won not battles like Robertthe First. He rose not from a count to a king like Robert the Second.He founded not churches like Robert the Third, but was contented to liveand die king of good fellows!' Of all my two centuries of ancestors, Iwould only emulate the fame of--
"Old King Coul, Who had a brown bowl."
"My gracious lord," said Ramorny, "let me remind you that your joyousrevels involve serious evils. If I had lost this hand in fighting toattain for your Grace some important advantage over your too powerfulenemies, the loss would never have grieved me. But to be reduced fromhelmet and steel coat to biggin and gown in a night brawl--"
"Why, there again now, Sir John," interrupted the reckless Prince. "Howcanst thou be so unworthy as to be for ever flinging thy bloody hand inmy face, as the ghost of Gaskhall threw his head at Sir William Wallace?Bethink thee, thou art more unreasonable than Fawdyon himself; for wightWallace had swept his head off in somewhat a hasty humour, whereas Iwould gladly stick thy hand on again, were that possible. And, harkthee, since that cannot be, I will get thee such a substitute as thesteel hand of the old knight of Carslogie, with which he greeted hisfriends, caressed his wife, braved his antagonists, and did all thatmight be done by a hand of flesh and blood, in offence or defence.Depend on it, John Ramorny, we have much that is superfluous about us.Man can see with one eye, hear with one ear, touch with one hand, smellwith one nostril; and why we should have two of each, unless to supplyan accidental loss or injury, I for one am at a loss to conceive."
Sir John Ramorny turned from the Prince with a low groan.
"Nay, Sir John;" said the Duke, "I am quite serious. You know the truthtouching the legend of Steel Hand of Carslogie better than I, since hewas your own neighbour. In his time that curious engine could only bemade in Rome; but I will wager an hundred marks with you that, let thePerth armourer have the use of it for a pattern, Henry of the Wyndwill execute as complete an imitation as all the smiths in Rome couldaccomplish, with all the cardinals to bid a blessing on the work."
"I could venture to accept your wager, my lord," answered Ramorny,bitterly, "but there is no time for foolery. You have dismissed me fromyour service, at command of your uncle?"
"At command of my father," answered the Prince.
"Upon whom your uncle's commands are imperative," replied Ramorny. "Iam a disgraced man, thrown aside, as I may now fling away my right handglove, as a thing useless. Yet my head might help you, though my handbe gone. Is your Grace disposed to listen to me for one word of seriousimport, for I am much exhausted, and feel my force sinking under me?"
"Speak your pleasure," said the Prince; "thy loss binds me to hearthee, thy bloody stump is a sceptre to control me. Speak, then, but bemerciful in thy strength of privilege."
"I will be brief for mine own sake as well as thine; indeed, I have butlittle to say. Douglas places himself immediately at the head of hisvassals. He will assemble, in the name of King Robert, thirty thousandBorderers, whom he will shortly after lead into the interior, to demandthat the Duke of Rothsay receive, or rather restore, his daughter tothe rank and privileges of his Duchess. King Robert will yield to anyconditions which may secure peace. What will the Duke do?"
"The Duke of Rothsay loves peace," said the Prince, haughtily; "but henever feared war. Ere he takes back yonder proud peat to his tableand his bed, at the command of her father, Douglas must be King ofScotland."
"Be it so; but even this is the less pressing peril, especially as itthreatens open violence, for the Douglas works not in secret."
"What is there which presses, and keeps us awake at this late hour? I ama weary man, thou a wounded one, and the very tapers are blinking, as iftired of our conference."
"Tell me, then, who is it that rules this kingdom of Scotland?" saidRamorny.
"Robert, third of the name," said the Prince, raising his bonnet as hespoke; "and long may he sway the sceptre!"
"True, and amen," answered Ramorny; "but who sways King Robert, anddictates almost every measure which the good King pursues?"
"My Lord of Albany, you would say," replied the Prince. "Yes, it is truemy father is guided almost entirely by the counsels of his brother; norcan we blame him in our consciences, Sir John Ramorny, for little helphath he had from his son."
"Let us help him now, my lord," said Ramorny. "I am possessor of adreadful secret: Albany hath been trafficking with me, to join himin taking your Grace's life! He offers full pardon for the past, highfavour for the future."
"How, man--my life? I trust, though, thou dost only mean my kingdom? Itwere impious! He is my father's brother--they sat on the knees of thesame father--lay in the bosom of the same mother. Out on thee, man, whatfollies they make thy sickbed believe!"
"Believe, indeed!" said Ramorny. "It is new to me to be termedcredulous. But the man through whom Albany communicated his temptationsis one whom all will believe so soon as he hints at mischief--even themedicaments which are prepared by his hands have a relish of poison."
"Tush! such a slave would slander a saint," replied the Prince. "Thouart duped for once, Ramorny, shrewd as thou art. My uncle of Albanyis ambitious, and would secure for himself and for his house a largerportion of power and wealth than he ought in reason to desire. But tosuppose he would dethrone or slay his brother's son--Fie, Ramorny! putme not to quote the old saw, that evil doers are evil dreaders. It isyour suspicion, not your knowledge, which speaks."
"Your Grace is fatally deluded. I will put it to an issue. The Duke ofAlbany is generally hated for his greed and covetousness. Your Highnessis, it may be, more beloved than--"
Ramorny stopped, the Prince calmly filled up the blank: "More belovedthan I am honoured. It is so I would have it, Ramorny."
"At least," said Ramorny, "you are more beloved than you are feared,and that is no safe condition for a prince. But give me your honour andknightly word that you will not resent what good service I shall do inyour behalf, and lend me your signet to engage friends in your name,and the Duke of Albany shall not assume authority in this court till thewasted hand which once terminated this stump shall be again united tothe body, and acting in obedience to the dictates of my mind."
"You would not venture to dip your hands in royal blood?" said thePrince sternly.
"Fie, my lord, at no rate. Blood need not be shed; life may, nay, will,be extinguished of itself. For want of trimming it with fresh oil, orscreening it from a breath of wind, the quivering light will die in thesocket. To suffer a man to die is not to kill him."
"True--I had forgot that policy. Well, then, suppose my uncle Albanydoes not continue to live--I think that must be the phrase--who thenrules the court of Scotland?"
"Robert the Third, with consent, advice, and authority of the mostmighty David, Duke of Rothsay, Lieutenant of the Kingdom, and alter ego;in whose favour, indeed, the good King, wearied with the fatigues andtroubles of sovereignty, will, I guess, be well disposed to abdicate. Solong live our brave young monarch, King David the Third!
"Ille manu fortis Anglis lu
debit in hortis."
"And our father and predecessor," said Rothsay, "will he continue tolive to pray for us, as our beadsman, by whose favour he holds theprivilege of laying his grey hairs in the grave as soon, and no earlier,than the course of nature permits, or must he also encounter some ofthose negligences in consequence of which men cease to continue to live,and can change the limits of a prison, or of a convent resembling one,for the dark and tranquil cell, where the priests say that the wickedcease from troubling and the weary are at rest?"
"You speak in jest, my lord," replied Ramorny: "to harm the good oldKing were equally unnatural and impolitic."
"Why shrink from that, man, when thy whole scheme," answered the Prince,in stern displeasure, "is one lesson of unnatural guilt, mixed withshort sighted ambition? If the King of Scotland can scarcely makehead against his nobles, even now when he can hold up before them anunsullied and honourable banner, who would follow a prince that isblackened with the death of an uncle and the imprisonment of a father?Why, man, thy policy were enough to revolt a heathen divan, to saynought of the council of a Christian nation. Thou wert my tutor,Ramorny, and perhaps I might justly upbraid thy lessons and example forsome of the follies which men chide in me. Perhaps, if it had not beenfor thee, I had not been standing at midnight in this fool's guise(looking at his dress), to hear an ambitious profligate propose to methe murder of an uncle, the dethronement of the best of fathers. Sinceit is my fault as well as thine that has sunk me so deep in the gulf ofinfamy, it were unjust that thou alone shouldst die for it. But dare notto renew this theme to me, on peril of thy life! I will proclaim thee tomy father--to Albany--to Scotland--throughout its length and breadth.As many market crosses as are in the land shall have morsels ofthe traitor's carcass, who dare counsel such horrors to the heir ofScotland. Well hope I, indeed, that the fever of thy wound, and theintoxicating influence of the cordials which act on thy infirm brain,have this night operated on thee, rather than any fixed purpose."
"In sooth, my lord," said Ramorny, "if I have said any thing which couldso greatly exasperate your Highness, it must have been by excess ofzeal, mingled with imbecility of understanding. Surely I, of all men, amleast likely to propose ambitious projects with a prospect of advantageto myself! Alas! my only future views must be to exchange lance andsaddle for the breviary and the confessional. The convent of Lindoresmust receive the maimed and impoverished knight of Ramorny, who willthere have ample leisure to meditate upon the text, 'Put not thy faithin princes.'"
"It is a goodly purpose," said the Prince, "and we will not be lackingto promote it. Our separation, I thought, would have been but for atime. It must now be perpetual. Certainly, after such talk as we haveheld, it were meet that we should live asunder. But the convent ofLindores, or what ever other house receives thee, shall be richlyendowed and highly favoured by us. And now, Sir John of Ramorny,sleep--sleep--and forget this evil omened conversation, in which thefever of disease and of wine has rather, I trust, held colloquy thanyour own proper thoughts. Light to the door, Eviot."
A call from Eviot summoned the attendants of the Prince, who had beensleeping on the staircase and hall, exhausted by the revels of theevening.
"Is there none amongst you sober?" said the Duke of Rothsay, disgustedby the appearance of his attendants.
"Not a man--not a man," answered the followers, with a drunken shout,"we are none of us traitors to the Emperor of Merry makers!"
"And are all of you turned into brutes, then?" said the Prince.
"In obedience and imitation of your Grace," answered one fellow; "or, ifwe are a little behind your Highness, one pull at the pitcher will--"
"Peace, beast!" said the Duke of Rothsay. "Are there none of you sober,I say?"
"Yes, my noble liege," was the answer; "here is one false brother,Watkins the Englishman."
"Come hither then, Watkins, and aid me with a torch; give me a cloak,too, and another bonnet, and take away this trumpery," throwing downhis coronet of feathers. "I would I could throw off all my folliesas easily. English Wat, attend me alone, and the rest of you end yourrevelry, and doff your mumming habits. The holytide is expended, and thefast has begun."
"Our monarch has abdicated sooner than usual this night," said oneof the revel rout; but as the Prince gave no encouragement, such ashappened for the time to want the virtue of sobriety endeavoured toassume it as well as they could, and the whole of the late rioters beganto adopt the appearance of a set of decent persons, who, having beensurprised into intoxication, endeavoured to disguise their condition byassuming a double portion of formality of behaviour. In the interim thePrince, having made a hasty reform in his dress, was lighted to the doorby the only sober man of the company, but, in his progress thither, hadwell nigh stumbled over the sleeping bulk of the brute Bonthron.
"How now! is that vile beast in our way once more?" he said in anger anddisgust. "Here, some of you, toss this caitiff into the horse trough;that for once in his life he may be washed clean."
While the train executed his commands, availing themselves of a fountainwhich was in the outer court, and while Bonthron underwent a disciplinewhich he was incapable of resisting, otherwise than by some inarticulategroans and snorts, like, those of a dying boar, the Prince proceeded onhis way to his apartments, in a mansion called the Constable's lodgings,from the house being the property of the Earls of Errol. On the way, todivert his thoughts from the more unpleasing matters, the Prince askedhis companion how he came to be sober, when the rest of the party hadbeen so much overcome with liquor.
"So please your honour's Grace," replied English Wat, "I confess it wasvery familiar in me to be sober when it was your Grace's pleasure thatyour train should be mad drunk; but in respect they were all Scottishmenbut myself, I thought it argued no policy in getting drunken in theircompany, seeing that they only endure me even when we are all sober, andif the wine were uppermost, I might tell them a piece of my mind, and bepaid with as many stabs as there are skenes in the good company."
"So it is your purpose never to join any of the revels of ourhousehold?"
"Under favour, yes; unless it be your Grace's pleasure that the residueof your train should remain one day sober, to admit Will Watkins to getdrunk without terror of his life."
"Such occasion may arrive. Where dost thou serve, Watkins?"
"In the stable, so please you."
"Let our chamberlain bring thee into the household, as a yeoman of thenight watch. I like thy favour, and it is something to have one soberfellow in the house, although he is only such through the fear of death.Attend, therefore, near our person; and thou shalt find sobriety athriving virtue."
Meantime a load of care and fear added to the distress of Sir JohnRamorny's sick chamber. His reflections, disordered as they were by theopiate, fell into great confusion when the Prince, in whose presence hehad suppressed its effect by strong resistance, had left the apartment.His consciousness, which he had possessed perfectly during theinterview, began to be very much disturbed. He felt a general sensethat he had incurred a great danger, that he had rendered the Prince hisenemy, and that he had betrayed to him a secret which might affect hisown life. In this state of mind and body, it was not strange that heshould either dream, or else that his diseased organs should becomesubject to that species of phantasmagoria which is excited by the useof opium. He thought that the shade of Queen Annabella stood by hisbedside, and demanded the youth whom she had placed under his charge,simple, virtuous, gay, and innocent.
"Thou hast rendered him reckless, dissolute, and vicious," said theshade of pallid Majesty. "Yet I thank thee, John of Ramorny, ungratefulto me, false to thy word, and treacherous to my hopes. Thy hate shallcounteract the evil which thy friendship has done to him. And well doI hope that, now thou art no longer his counsellor, a bitter penance onearth may purchase my ill fated child pardon and acceptance in a betterworld."
Ramorny stretched out his arms after his benefactress, and endeavouredto express contrition and excuse; but the coun
tenance of the apparitionbecame darker and sterner, till it was no longer that of the late Queen,but presented the gloomy and haughty aspect of the Black Douglas; thenthe timid and sorrowful face of King Robert, who seemed to mourn overthe approaching dissolution of his royal house; and then a group offantastic features, partly hideous, partly ludicrous, which moped, andchattered, and twisted themselves into unnatural and extravagantforms, as if ridiculing his endeavour to obtain an exact idea of theirlineaments.