Produced by Henry Flower, Carlo Traverso and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisbook was produced from scanned images of public domainmaterial from the Google Print project.)
THE
THREE PERILS OF MAN:
_A BORDER ROMANCE_.
THE THREE PERILS OF MAN;
OR, War, Women, and Witchcraft.
_A BORDER ROMANCE._
BY JAMES HOGG, AUTHOR OF "WINTER-EVENING TALES," "BROWNIE OF BODSBECK," "QUEEN'S WAKE," _&c._ _&c._
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
Beshrew me if I dare open it. FLETCHER.
LONDON: LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1822.
JOHN MOIR, Printer, Edinburgh, 1822.
THE
THREE PERILS OF MAN.
CHAPTER I.
He was a base and a cruel knight, As ever my two eyes did see; And all that he did, and all that he said, It was by the might of glamourye.
But yet his gear was o' the goude As it waved and wampished in the wind; And the coal-black steed he rode upon, It was fleeter than the bonny hind.
_Ballad of Sir Colin Brand._
The distance from Melrose to the castle of Aikwood being only about nineEnglish miles, our party came in view of it before sun-set. It was oneof those dead calm winter evenings, not uncommon at that season, whenthe slightest noise is heard at a distance, and the echoes are allabroad.
As they drew near to the huge dark-looking pile, silence prevailed amongthem more and more. All was so still that even that beautiful valleyseemed a waste. There was no hind whistling at the plough; no cattlenor sheep grazing on the holms of Aikwood; no bustle of servants,kinsmen, or their grooms, as at the castles of other knights. It seemedas if the breath of the enchanter, or his eye, had been infectious, andhad withered all within its influence, whether of vegetable, animal, orhuman life. The castle itself scarcely seemed to be the abode of man;the massy gates were all locked; no porter was in attendance; and therewas only one small piping smoke issuing from one of the turrets.
"Gude faith! callans," said Charlie, "that's a douth and an awsomelooking bigging. I wish we were fairly in, and safely out again."
"Is that now to be my residence, Yardbire?" said the beautiful Delany."Will you go away, and leave Elias and me in that frightsome anddesolate looking mansion?"
"If the great Master gie us a civil answer," said Charlie, not wellwotting what to say,--"and desire to have you for his handmaiden, orrather the mistress of his castle, to overlook the other maids, and thespinning and weaving concerns like, then we have orders to leave you.But, if he should be cross, and crabbit, and paughty wi' us, ye're ingude hands, and we'll no quat wi' you sae easily."
"Thou art in good hands indeed," said the friar: "But, alas! what isman! a flower of the field that the hand of the mower cutteth down andleaveth to decay: A shadow; a sound that passeth away and is not. But,maiden, thou art in better hands than ours; in hands that will not leavethe innocent and guiltless to perish. There is an arm around thee thatthou seest not: there is a guardian with a sword behind thee and beforethee, of whom thou art not aware. Therefore have thou no fear, for noevil shall befal thee."
"Methinks I could live any where, and be void of fear, if but sufferedto be in your presence," said Delany: "There is something in what youhave told me that goes to my heart, and on it I think I can rely."
"Blessed be thou, my daughter!" said he; "yea, and blessed shalt thou bein thy generation"--
"Hear to that!" said the poet aside: "Still on one subject! It is allover with some body!"
--"But thou art perhaps going into a place of danger, and evil thingsmay await thee. Here, take thou this, and keep it in thy bosom; and, bythe blessing of the Holy Virgin, it shall shield thee from allmalevolent spirits, all enchantments, and all dangers of the wicked one;the time may come when thou shalt more thoroughly understand the greatthings contained in this book."
As he said this, he put into her hand a small gilded copy of the FourEvangelists, which she kissed and put into her bosom. All the rest sawthis, and took it for a book of the Black Art.
By this time they were drawing near to the gate at Aikwood, where allcontinued silent and still as formerly. Notwithstanding of this,Charlie's horse, Corby, began to cock his ears and snort in a terriblemanner. Stout-hearted as Charlie war, his countenance began to alter;but he uttered not a word farther than coaxing Corby to proceed. Themule leading the way altogether regardless, the horses jogged on afterhim, example going farther than precept, whether with man or beast. Allthe horses were, however, become restive, though none of them was halfso fierce as Corby. He continued to force down his head, as if smellingthe ground; anon capering and snuffing the air, snorting aloud, andmoving with an elasticity rather like a thing of spirit than of jointsand bones. "Gude faith, Corby, my man," said Charlie, as he patted hismane, "a' isna right here! Wend on, ye camstairy thief: what the deilails ye? But, gude sauf us! ane should take care wha they name here.They say, an speak o' the deil he'll appear."
The old proverb had scarcely left Charlie's lips, when, all at once,they beheld three pages in black livery standing ranged before the gate,although the moment before there was no living creature there. Theyseemed to have arisen out of the ground, and as they rose they bowedtheir heads in a sarcastic way to the embassy. The appearance of thepages, and the motion that they made were both accomplished in the samemoment of time, and at the motion every one of the horses broke away,like so many scared wildfowl, some one way, and some another. Charlietried to restrain Corby with the whole might of his capacious arm; butthe impatient animal plunged and bounded into the air with suchviolence, that his rider was obliged to give him head, and away hesprung like a roe over field and river, straining every nerve to be outof sight of Aikwood, while Charlie's warrior cloak, that hung only bythe shoulder clasp, flapped so far behind him that he appeared like ablack cloud skimming the valley. Though none of the other horses madeequal speed with Corby, every one ran as fast as it could, and all tothe eastward, though far asunder.
The mule, on the contrary, never moved nor concerned himself about thematter. He indeed held forward his long ears, and took a serious look ofthe pages, as of some sort of beings he did not more than generallyunderstand. Nevertheless he despised them, and looked about withapparent astonishment and derision at the madness and folly of hisassociates. The friar, finding himself left with his mule and the threepages thus unaccountably, began to address the latter; but they onlyimitated his motions, and made wry faces, without returning him anyanswer. The mule had by this time taken another serious look at them,and disliking them exceedingly, he sidled towards them with all hismettle, and tried to hit them with his heels. The urchins then raisedsuch an eldritch laugh that they made the arches of the castle to ring,and, skipping about and about, provoked the mule to farther violence.He, on his part, was nothing loth to attack; he ran open-mouthed at one,kicked at another, and tried to crush another up against the gate, allto the great annoyance of the friar, who, with the utmost difficultykept his seat for a good while, in spite of the mad evolutions of hisprovoked and provoking beast. But the game once begun was not sufferedto subside. The giggling elves, with the swiftness of lightning, skippedabout, and, in whatever direction the mule darted, one of them wasalways pricking him behind. The worthy friar waxed very wroth, andswore by the life of Pharaoh that he would execute vengeance on them.But the noise of
mirth and mischief waxed louder and louder, until theaustere inmates of the castle heard; and the great Master said to hisonly attendant, "Gourlay, what is the meaning of all this uproar?"
"It is only Prig, Prim, and Pricker," said he, "making sport with amendicant friar and his ass."
"Are they killing him?" enquired his Master, with the greatestcomposure, and without lifting his eyes from a large book that laybefore him.
"I wot not, sire," said Gourlay, with the same indifference.
"Ay, it is no matter," returned the Master; "It will keep them inemployment a little while."
"Perhaps," said Gourlay,--and retired back to the casement with sullenstep.
By this time the mule had become so outrageous, that he wheeled, kicked,and plunged, like one of the furies; and, at the last, in spite of allthe friar could do, laid him fairly on his back, amid the franticshrieks and gibberish of his tormentors. Gourlay beheld the incidentfrom the crevice of the turret, and, not daring to discompose the greatMaster, he walked down to the gate to witness the sport at a shorterdistance; though with a callous indifference about the matter, andwithout the least hope to enjoy it.
When he came nigh to the scene of action, he looked as if he expectedthe friar to have been dead, and was rather astonished when he saw himraise his head, and utter a solemn anathema against the pages, who fledback as if awed and overcome. The seneschal not comprehending this,turned his pale glazed cheek toward the friar, elevated his brow as iflooking at the verge of the high hill beyond the river, and stoodmotionless, stealing a side glance, now and then, of the stranger.
The latter raised up his gruff face, inflamed with passion, and, seeingthe tall ungainly figure of Gourlay standing like a statue, with a redturban on his head, and a grey frock or mantle, that in ample foldscovered him from the neck to the sandals, took him at once for themighty enchanter, and addressed him with as little respect as might be.
"If thou art the lord of this mansion, draw near unto me, that I maytell thee of the deeds of thy servants, which eat thy bread, and standat thy gate. Lo, have they not lifted up the hand against my life, whoam a stranger, and a servant of him against whom thou hast rebelled andlifted up the heel? Go to; thou art a churl, and a derision, and abye-word among thy kindred and people, and not worthy to be called bytheir name. I came unto thy gate in peace, on a message of peace, andthe words of peace were in my mouth; and why hast thou suffered thesechildren of the wicked one to maltreat and abuse me? Why dost thou notopen thy mouth?"
The pages chattered with a malicious laugh at a distance, and theseneschal came stalking near, in a sort of confused astonishment, totake a nearer view of this talking phenomenon. He came and looked overhim without altering a muscle of his face; and the friar, irritated bypain and the contempt shewn toward his sufferings, went on. At any othertime he would haply have been chilled by the pale frigid countenance,shagged beard, and glazed unearthly eye that were now bent over him; butin the present state of his feelings he disregarded them; and, thoughconvinced that he spoke to the mighty enchanter himself, continued hisharangue:--
"Come thou near unto me that I may curse thee. Thou child of allunrighteousness, art thou not already cursed among the children of men?Where are the wealth and the cheerfulness, where are the welcome, andthe faces of joy and mirth, that are to be met with at the houses of thykinsmen whose bread I eat? Where the full basket and the welcome store?the wine that giveth its colour in the glass? the sounds of mirth andgladness? the sounds of the song, the viol, and the harp? And where isthy tongue, that thou canst not speak?" cried the friar, elevating hisvoice to its highest and most impatient tones.
"Humph," said Gourlay.
"Humph!" returned the friar; "What dost thou mean by humph? Tell me, inone word, Art thou the lord of this castle?"
"No; but his seneschal," said Gourlay; "What hast thou to say?"
"Then lead me to thy master, that I may see him face to face, and tellhim the words of him that sent me. I will not be afraid of these dogs ofthine and thy master's. What is become of thy tongue that thou dost notspeak? Tell me, I say, can I see thy master?"
"Perhaps," said Gourlay; and, seizing the friar by the shoulder with arude but powerful grasp, he dragged him in at the gate.
"With-hold thine hand, and thy unmannerly grasp," said the friar,--"elseI will smite thee with the sword."
The seneschal regarded this threat only with a grim unmeaning smile; andas he held the friar by the right arm so firmly that he even lost thepower of it, it was impossible for him to draw his sword.
"Nay but hearken unto me," continued he; "surely it is better for theeto live than to die. Therefore bring in my beast that he may haveprovender; and let me also bring my goods and my changes of raimentalong with me in peace, else how shall I set up my face before thymaster?"
The seneschal then paused, and motioned with his hand to the pages tobring the panniers; they ran to obey, but as soon as any of them touchedthe huge wallet, he hastened back and fell to the ground.
"Vermin! cannot you bring the furniture?" cried Gourlay.
They shook their heads, and stood at a distance.
"Humph!" said he, "I do not comprehend this," and leading the friarback, still holding him fast by the arm, he suffered him to lift thepanniers himself, which he did with good will, and then allowed himselfto be led away by the uncourteous seneschal, who said to the pages as hedeparted, "See to the vile animal!"
Without more ado he led the friar in, and pushing him rudely into asmall vaulted apartment, he locked first a ponderous iron door, andthen a massy wooden one, full of nails, upon him; and, without regardinghis complaints or anathemas, or deigning a word in reply to his queries,he left him to his own bitter reflections.
The apartment at first appeared to be dark, but on looking about hefound that there were two grated loop-holes in it, and by the light fromthese he soon perceived that there was nothing in the place save theskeleton of a man of uncommon stature and dimensions. The bones werelying flat on the floor, every one in its place exactly as the man haddied, and the flesh wasted away from them. No disarrangement had takenplace, nor was the smallest joint wanting. This was a petrifying sightto the poor friar, who, crossing himself, and turning from the horriblespectacle, set his nose through the grating and looked out on thefields.
The first thing he beheld confounded him more than all he had ever seenin his life. The three devilish pages were tampering with his mule tobring him within the outer gate; but he, in his usual manner, proved asrefractory as ever, and laid about him with all his might. On this, theboys in one moment whipped him up in their arms, and ere the friar coulddraw his breath, far less utter a Pater-Noster, they set him down in themiddle of the court, straight before the friar's grating, and tied himto the shaft of a well with a strong rope. The friar said a Benedicite;and, ere he had done, the devilish and provoking imps began to tormentthe poor mule beyond all sufferance, whipping him round and round thepost, and making him fling and jump till the blood and sweat werepouring together from his branded sides, and he was no more able toresent the injuries committed on him. The friar fumed, and threatened,and cursed them in the name of the blessed saints; but they only laughedhim to scorn: And when the mule could no longer resent the lash, theybrought red-hot spindles and pushed them between his hind-legs, whichmade him fling and rear till he fell down at the post, and laygroaning, unable any more to move.
The thing that provoked the friar worst of all was the sight of the tallseneschal standing looking on, and seeming, by his motions, to bedirecting the game. Never was such a flood of eastern eloquence heard atAikwood, as was poured from the small crevice in the bottom of theeastern turret that evening. No one, however, regarded it, or, if theydid, it was only to mock or mimic the sublime deprecator.
To all that he said, the seneschal grinned a smile of grim disdain, andmotioned to the pages to redouble their sport, which they did, till, assaid, the poor animal could furnish them with no more.
The friar now beh
eld a joyful sight through the twilight, the rest ofhis companions coming on foot towards the gate. They had gatheredtogether at the mill, about a mile to the eastward of the castle, andmade another attempt to approach it on horseback; but their efforts werevain; not a steed would come one step farther than just in view of it;so they agreed to put their horses up at the mill, leaving them incharge of the miller and his two sons, and to proceed on foot to thecastle, to join their mysterious associate the friar, whose magicalmight some of them began to dread, and others to trust.
Gourlay beheld them approaching as well as did the friar, and againwaited on the great Master with awe and trembling.
"I pray thee, mighty Master, to forgive me," said he, "but too true isit that the wretched pedagogue has said,--for here come a body of thewarden's friends, with swords in their hands, and one beautiful humanthing in their company."
"And what then?" said Michael, in a stern, hollow voice.
The seneschal trembled. "I--I--only want to know how they are to bereceived," said he.
"Received?" cried the Master, raising his voice to a pitch that made theold wretch shrink as it were within himself. "Received? As spies should,to be sure. Begone!"
Gourlay ran cowering toward the door.
"Stop.--Come back here. What forces are in the castle?"
"What forces? Hem! Great Master, you only know."
"Any things of flesh, I inquire?"
"No, not one; if you except the old witch Henbane. Oh! I beg yourpardon, great and honoured master! I meant your worthy and respectablehousekeeper."
Michael gave three gentle tramps with his heel, and in one moment thethree pages in black livery, Prig, Prim, and Pricker, were at his knee.
"Work, Master, work. What work now?" said they all in one breath.
"Give your master there a toasting for his insolence," said Michael.
The pages giggled for joy; the seneschal kneeled and roared out formercy, and, as a motive for granting it to him, said the strangers wereat the gate. The pages had already laid their fangs on him; but theMaster, on the arrival of the strangers being brought to his mind,ordered the imps to desist. This they did on the instant; but, withoutdelay, rushed on Michael himself, as if they would tear him to pieces.He threatened, cursed, and dared them to touch him; but they seemednothing daunted by all he said, but danced around him with demoniacgestures, crying still out with one voice:--
"Work, Master, work; work we need; Work for the living, or for the dead: Since we are called, work we will have, For the master, or for the slave. Work, Master, work. What work now?"
"Miserable wight that I am!" cried the mighty Master. "Then, d--ddwarfs, since it must be so, bring the slave back, and let him havethree varieties, and no more."
Gourlay had made his escape with all expedition, but it was not long erethey overtook him, and brought him back, leading him in the mostgrotesque manner that can well be conceived. They then began to twirlhim about, first with his face one way and then another; and,latest adventures making the strongest impressions on their wickedimaginations, by some devilish slight they transformed him into theshape of a mule, and practised on him all the wanton cruelties they hadso lately done on the friar's, seeming to enjoy the sport all the whilewith redoubled zest. They next changed him into a dog; and, tying acannister, containing some small stones to his tail, they pursued himround and round the room, and finally out into the yard, with longwhips, every one breaking at him, and giving him a lash as he came by.This caused him always now and then to exert himself with such speedthat the cannister was sometimes hitting him on the head with a loudrattling yerk, sometimes on the back, and all over the body, while thepoor steward was running, yelping in the uttermost desperation. Thefriar beheld part of the sport from his grate, but little wist that itwas the hated seneschal that was suffering, else he would have doubtlessenjoyed the scene in no ordinary degree. The rest of the embassy alsosaw it from the outer gate, where they now stood rapping and callingwithout being regarded, the pages being too intent on their game to paythe least attention to such as they.
"Let alane the poor tike, like good lads," cried muckle Charlie, "andcome and open the yett. What ill has the silly beast done to you?"
"They bring me in mind o' Jock Harper's terriers," said Gibbie, "thatwad rather do ill for the sake o' doing it, than do ought that was goodor right for a' the warld."
"I hate to see a colley-shangie," said the poet; "there is nothingsublime or romantic in it."
"They're nae canny couts thae three chaps," said Charlie; "Corby wadnalook at them, and he kens things gayan weel. We maun just hae a weepatience till they be done wi' their chace. It's a queer kind o' placethis."
The poor metamorphosed steward, finding no rest for the sole of hisfoot, betook him again to the staircase, and crept down at his master'sfeet, deeming the chastisement to have been over. But he was no soonerthere than the pages were after him, and by the time they had whirledhim three times about, he started up a hare, and the three pages,turning themselves into colley dogs set all upon him.
With the form of every quadruped into the shape of which he was turned,he seemed to acquire its nature and antipathies, and in none was it sostriking as in the hare. When the collies began to snap at him, histerror is not to be imagined; he darted round and round the hall likelightning, breaking out and in to Michael's study, to the greatdisarrangement of his conjuring apparatus, books, and papers; whileevery time that a colley sprung with open mouth at him, he uttered adesperate scream.
This was the only one of their frolics that appeared to amuse the greatMaster, his partiality for the sports of the chase being proverbial tothis day. When he saw the old seneschal laying back his long ears, andexerting his powers of speed in such manifest terror, and the malignantcollies whinking after him, and waylaying him in every strait, makinghim often spring aloft, he could not help laughing outright, andbaiting the dogs on him. The tears stood in the old hare's eyes when heheard this, nevertheless his fright made him agile; he bolted from thehalls and alleys of the castle into the extensive yard; and there wassuch a hunt! Michael and the friar both ran to their respective windowsto see the sport, and our party at the outer gate shouted and hallooedwith great energy. Many a time did the dogs get a snap at the steward,and make him scream out, while all the onlookers laughed aloud. Atlength, thinking he would actually be worried, he cleared the wall, andmade a bold effort to gain the wood. But these were a trio of dogs fromwhich there was no possibility of escape. Ran he fast or ran he slow,there were they after him, snatching at his hips and panting sides, andyelping so keenly all the while that the seneschal had no doubt of beingtorn in pieces should they fairly seize him. They turned him, and madehim trace many an acute angle on the hill, while our party were runningafter him, throwing always sticks or stones at the steward, as hehasted by them, and baiting the dogs on him. Finding, as formerly, noother resource, he returned with main speed to the castle, and creptdown at the Master's feet, who, with one touch of his divining rod,changed him into his own native forbidding form.
He started up in great wrath; and, though panting so that he couldscarcely speak, swore a horrible oath, that he would no longer be keptin bondage and maltreated in that manner; and that, since it wasimpossible for him to escape in any other way, he would cut his ownthroat, and run his chance of an after life.
"Poor dastardly braggart!" said Michael; "not for the soul that inhabitsthat old malicious frame, dare you do such a thing. I would seize on it,and make sport of it for ages. I have you wholly in my power, and, deador alive, it is the same thing to me. Were you to do as you say, andtake away your life by a ghastly wound, I could even make one of thesefiendish spirits enter into your body, re-animate it, and cause you togo about with your gaping wound, unclosed and unpurified, as when deathentered thereat. Think of what an existence that would be, and then goand put your miserable threat into execution."
"Hah! There it is!" said Gourlay: "Turn me as I will, I see nothing butwretc
hedness. Cursed be the day that I saw you, and ten times cursed theconfession I made, that has thus subjected me to your tyranny! However,use me another day as you have used me on this, and you do it at yourperil, if you were the devil himself. I have warned you."
Michael only smiled contemptuously at the threat; and again asked whatliving creatures were in the castle, as he wanted a retinue to receivethe message of his kinsmen.
"I have told you already," said Gourlay, in the same passionate andirritated mood; "and I again repeat it, that there is no mortal thing inthe castle, but the old witch, and perhaps two or three hundred rats."
"Take that in the first place then," said Michael, "for yourimpertinence,"--at the same time laying him flat on the floor by atremendous blow, although he only moved his hand toward the steward;"and in the next place go call out these three hundred rats you talk of,marshal them up in the court, and receive the mighty warden's peoplewith all manner of pomp and respect, and use them according to theirdemerits."
The steward roared out with pain; and gnashing his teeth with rage, hearose growling, and was hasting away, when the Master asked him if hewas going to accomplish what he had bidden him do.
"Without doubt;" said he, "Is it not very likely that I shall be able?"
"Take that then," said the Master, "and put it above the lock-hole ofthe door; it shall serve you as a summons, and Prig, Prim, and Prickershall marshal your array." With that he gave him a small piece ofparchment written in red characters, which the steward snatched angrilyout of his hand, and going down the stair did as the Master had orderedhim.
The charm was effective, and its effects momentary. The bustling and thescreaming of rats were heard in every corner of the castle, andforthwith a whole column of men marched out into the court in threefiles, led by the three pages, and headed by the incensed seneschal inhis grey mantle and cap.
Our messengers looked mightily astonished when they beheld such aretinue, and Charlie observed that "it was a confounded shame for MrMichael no to join the warden, and had sae mony idle men lying tholingstarvation beside him." But then looking wildly around on both sides tohis friends, he added, "God's grace be about us! wha kens but a' thaemay be spirits or elves in the shapes o'men? I think they hae unco queermusty-like looks. An I had Corby here he wad soon tell me wi' avengeance."
Old Gourlay, now at the head of his corps, demanded what the strangerswanted; and on being informed who they were, and that they came on aspecial commission to the Master, they were admitted, and walked up alane between two ranks of armed men in full caparison.
The Master beheld them from his casement, and was mightily diverted bythe whimsical appearance of the various individuals that formed thegroup, two of whom he conceived to be the most beautiful creatures hehad ever seen. Whoever reads this will at once guess who these twolovely beings were; but if he does, he will at once guess wrong. Itwould seem that a wizard sees every thing in this fair and beautifulcreation through an inverted medium, and that all the common and finefeelings of nature are in him changed and distorted. The beauty of thetwo young captives appeared, in Michael's eyes, hateful, and evenaffected him with loathing; but two more lovely and engaging creaturesthan Jordan and the Deil's Tam he had never seen on earth. The hookednose, wrinkled face, and mouth from ear to ear of the laird, he thoughtexquisite; but Tam's long coulter nose, turned up in front, his smallgrey eyes, and shapeless physiognomy, were beyond all expressionengaging. So, from the time that the Master got the first look of them,he determined, contrary to his usual custom, to see and converse withhis guests.
They were soon conducted to the door of the vault, in which their friendthe friar was immured; and, as soon as the door opened, he exclaimed,with a loud voice, "I charge you, O my brethren, and my companions, thatye come not into this place, nor set a foot within its boundaries; forthe place is a place of death, and the bones of the dead men are in it."
There is no deciding what these words might have produced, had they beenpronounced in time; but as soon as Charlie and the laird, who wereforemost, heard the friar's voice, they rushed towards him withoutthought or fear of the consequences, and, ere he had done, the hindmostwere pushed in by the relentless arm of the seneschal, and the iron doorclosed behind them. Perceiving how matters stood, the friar straightlifted up his hands, and continued to declaim in a still more ferventstile.
"Hout! Gude Lord, friar man, haud your tongue," said Charlieinterrupting him: "What signifies making sic a frase as a' this? or whatgood will it do? I hae run mysel into mony a priminary in my life, but Inever fand that mony words did muckle good. I trowed that ye had mairart about ye than to be feared for a stane an' lime wa,' an' twa orthree airn staincheons. Pith can do muckle, but art can do mair."
Charlie meant the black art; but the friar taking him up in anothermeaning, shook him by the hand and blessed him.
It may not have occurred to the reader and it is not likely it should,that this same friar was an English monk, the most celebrated man ofthat age, then exiled from his country, and obliged to skulk indisguise, for fear of being apprehended and burnt as a wizard andnecromancer. He was the greatest philosopher and chemist of the age, thereal inventor of gun-powder, and many other wonderful discoveries, and,withal, a pious and good man,--although one whose character wastinctured with peculiarities so striking, that some took him for a mancrazed in his mind, but far more for a powerful necromancer. His name isfamiliar to every man in the least acquainted with the literature or thescience of that age; but while he remained in Scotland being alwaysdenominated the gospel friar, we have judged it best to call him by thatname. If the reader has not discovered this, it is time he should knowit; and whether the friar was a necromancer or not, will appear in thesequel.
When the party got leisure to converse together, their first words wereexpressive of the astonishment they laboured under at sight of thewarlike force kept up by the Master. Charlie only testified his regretthat there was not a right and mutual understanding between him and thewarden; but the maid Delany was the first to remark that she did notthink they were right men, because their faces were all alike, and theireyes were not like the eyes of any human being she had ever beforelooked on. In this every one present acquiesced, and great was theirwonder how or whence that mighty armed force had sprung; but they agreedthat there was no contending with such numbers, of whatsoever naturethey might be, and that there was nothing for it but submitting to theMaster's will.
The day light was by this time quite extinguished, but the moon was up;and it being a hard frost, with a slight covering of snow, or rime, itwas nearly as light as some winter days. Their damp, mouldy vault withthe grisly skeleton lying at the one side of it, shewed horridly dismalin the wan and shadowy light, and threw a chillness over their hearts.They hoped and looked long for dinner, and then for supper, but neitherof them came; nor did they hear or see any living thing all that night,save the friar's mule, that had again got to his feet, and stood at thepost groaning and trembling of cold. This was a grievous sight to thefriar, for his heart was moved for the sufferings of his poor beast; andin the bitterness of his spirit he vented some anathemas against theunconscionable seneschal, saying,--"Verily if ever that son of Belialfall into my hands, I will be unto him as Adramelech and as Sharezer,and do unto him as they did to the father that begat them."
Every time that Charlie looked out at the mule, he testified a sort ofinward satisfaction that his own trusty steed was not brought into thesame scrape, and sundry times said, "Gude faith, Corby kend better sensethan coming into sic a place as this is. He's as weel off down wi' theauld miller; He'll get some pluffins o' seeds or dust, poor fallow. Anthey gie him but water, I'm no feared for him, for there's plenty o'meat yonder,--but he'll never do if they let him want water."
About two o'clock in the morning the seneschal entered with a light, buthad the precaution to lock the wooden door before he opened the ironone. The prisoners had sat down on the floor, and were leaning on oneanother; and, dismal as their lodg
ing was, some of them had fallen soundasleep. Delany was leaning on the friar's breast, and the poet had laidhimself down behind her, and covered her with his mantle. The rest werehuddled together, so that they appeared to be lying above one another;but all, or most of them, set up their heads at the entrance of thesteward.
Tam was the first to address him. "What's come o' our supper, goodman,that you are coming toom-handed? Do you no think it is time your guestshad something to eat, or hae ye naething either to eat or drink in thisgreat gousty castle? I dinna care what ye may think, or what you maysay; but in my opinion you and your master baith are naething but twaill-bred unmannerly niggards."
The seneschal grinned disdain, and clenched his teeth in wrath. He wasabout to reply, but all their tongues were loosed on him at once,some complaining of one thing some of another, and the friar moreparticularly of the treatment of his beast. All, however, ended with arequest for meat.
"No," said Gourlay; "we have no meat for spies and forayers. A halter isthe only guerdon we bestow on such dogs. I want this fair maiden, andfor the rest of you"--He finished the sentence with a sneer and a pointwith his finger to the bones; and seizing the maid by the shoulder, hedragged her toward the door.
"Softly sir, and if you please," said the poet, speaking in pureiambics, and seizing the bars of the iron door before the steward andhis prize. "We have indeed this maiden brought, from distant camp andknight renowned, unto the master of this house; and to none else we giveher up: No, not to thee, nor arm of flesh."
As the poet said these words, he bristled up, and faced the steward atthe door, to keep him back; but the carl gave him such a blow on thetemples that he staggered and fell. The friar then interposed, andthough he was a strong and powerful man, the irascible steward plied hisblows so fast and so hard about his bare pate, that he was alsooverthrown. The maiden screamed; and the old incendiary was within ahairbreadth of having her outside of the iron door, when she would havebeen wholly out of the power of her friends and protectors. But at thatcritical instant Charlie Scott seized the steward by the arm, neverdoubting but that he would twist him like a willow; but he wasmistaken. The churl seized him by the throat with his left hand, withsuch prodigious force that Charlie deemed him to have the strength ofsix common men, and lending him a blow on the face, he made his mouthand nose to gush blood. Charlie returned the salute with interest, yetthe steward stood his ground, and a most desperate struggle ensued, inwhich victory appeared doubtful. Gibby perceiving his friend andchampion's jeopardy, drew out his sword, and was going deliberately tostick the old ragamuffin behind, had not Charlie called out furiously tohim to forbear.
"Keep back your whittle, you cowardly dog," cried he, "else I'll cut youinto a thousand pieces. I never yet took odds against a man, nor shall Inow, unless I am fighting wi' the devil. In that case I may measure mybackbreadth on the floor. But be he the devil, be he dicken, I shall giehim ae squeeze."
Charlie with that closed with his dangerous opponent, and gave him sucha squeeze that he made his back and ribs to crash. The steward twistedhis face into the most hideous contortions, and exerted his whole forceto extricate himself, but Charlie brought him to the ground, fallingupon him with all his ponderous weight. It was among the bones of thegigantic skeleton that the two combatants fell; and Charlie, deemingthat he had given his foe enough for once, and a little startled to findhimself among the rattling bones, began to unloose his grasp, and saidin a hurried way, "Billy, I'll learn you how to strike fo'k on the gaband the brigg o' the nose sae rashly!" and was getting up as fast as hecould, when the steward gave him such a blow with the thigh-bone of thedead man, that he had very nigh brought him down again. If Charlie'sbonnet had not had a bar or two of steel, that blow would have shatteredhis skull. As it was it stunned him a little, and made the water startinto his eyes; and he had just recollection and strength sufficient tosecure his adversary's arms, by holding them down, so that he might notrepeat the blow. Yet, with all this Charlie's temper was not to beruffled. He cared not how often or how much he fought, but he neverfought in wrath.
"Gude faith, my man," said he, "but ye're no nice o' your chappingsticks! and foul fa' me gin ye dinna lay them gayan freely on. But Idinna blame ye. A wight man never wants a weapon; only come that gateagain an ye dare."
The steward growled and cursed, trying all that he could to throwCharlie from above him, and master him by sheer strength. He had no ideaof being overpowered by a single arm, nor was he wont to fear half adozen, but he had never met with the like of Charlie Scott before. Hemight as well have tried to remove the hill of Aikwood; so hewas obliged to succumb, which he did with a very bad grace; norwould he either abate one inch in his demand of having the damselunconditionally, or grant one request that they desired of him.
"Why, then, there's nae help for it, honest man," said Charlie; "I haeye firm and fast, and what ye winna gie us we maun e'en tak at our ainhand. Honest friar, come you here, and tak' a' the keys o' the castleaff this camstary hallanshaker, and we'll e'en help oursels to sic as wecan get. I sal tak care that he sanna move a spauld against you, and asfor his tongue we maun just let it wag."
The rage of the seneschal, when he saw himself robbed of the keys of thecastle, is not to be described: he cursed and raged in such a manner,that, even after the friar had both doors fairly open, Charlie durst notmove from off him, or let him go, for fear of some deadly scaith.
"I dinna ken what I'm to do wi' this deil's buckie," said he; "he's likethe tod's whelps, that grow aye the langer the waur."
"I wad gie him a settler," said Tam.
"He brings me in mind o' a barrel o' beer, fuming and fuffing. He'll nosettle till he be pierced," said Gibbie.
The friar then took up his bulky baggage, and walked out with that andthe light, meaning to bring his mule's halter wherewith to bind theseneschal; but Charlie, making his escape from him, locked him in,--andthus were our messengers left in the full and free possession of thecastle of Aikwood.