CHAP. III.
_Garolde._ Prick on good Markham. That galled jade of yours Moves with a hedgehog's pace. Is this a time To amble like a belle at tournament, When life and death hang on our enterprize?
_Mark._ We've had long stages, Garolde; We must take up. What miscreants have we here?
_The Prioress._
"Lo, have not I taken great delight in the words of thy mouth?" saidthe friar, "for it is a legend of purity and holiness which thou hasttold, and the words of truth are contained in it. Peradventure it maybe an ancient allegory of our nation, in which manner of instructionthe fathers of Christianity amongst us took great delight. But,whether it be truth, or whether it be fiction, the tendency is good;and behold, is it not so; do not I even thank thee for thy tale?"
"It is the most diffuse, extravagant, and silly legend that ever wasinvented by votary of a silly and inconsistent creed," said theMaster.
"I side wi' you, Master Michael Scott," said Tam Craik; "I think thetale is nought but a string of bombastical nonsense."
"Excepting ane about fat flesh, I think I never heard the match o't,"said the laird of the Peatstacknowe; "It brings me a-mind o' ourhost's dinner, that was a' show but nae substance."
"If I foresee aught aright," said the Master, "of many a worse dinnershall I see thee partake, and enjoy the sight."
"Was not that a beautiful and sublime tale, father?" said Delany: "Icould sit and listen to such divine legends for ever." The poet's eyesshone with tears when he heard the maid he loved say these words tothe friar apart, who answered and said unto her, "Lo, there are manymore sublime and more wonderful in thy little book; neverthelessthe tale is good for instruction to those that are faithless anddoubting."
"Alak! I fear I shall not live to learn and enjoy these. Do not youthink, father, that we shall all perish in this miserable place,"added Delany,--"this horrible place of witchcraft and divination?"Charlie Scott stepped forward when he overheard some of these words."Eh? what was the lassie saying?" said he. "Eh? I'll tell ye what itis, hinney: I believe ye see things as they are. There's naething butwitchcraft gaun on here; and it is that, and that alone, that a' ourperils and mischances rise frae. Begging your pardon, father, I cannahelp thinking what I think, and seeing what I see. But, gude faith! wemaun blaw lown till we win aff the tap o' this bigging, if that everbe."
"My hand hath prevailed against his hand," said the friar, "and mymaster over his master; and had it not been for this miserableaccident we should have had nothing to fear from his divinations,sublime and mighty as they are. What hath become of the mighty men ofvalour from the camp of our captain?"
"O there's nae mortal can tell," said Charlie: "It was not fornaething that Dan and his lads ran off and left us without everlooking ower their shoulders. A' witchcraft! a' witchcraft! Ane maystand against muckle, but nae man can stand against that. I wish wewere where sword and shield could aince mair stand us in stead. Butthis I'm sure o'--Now that our situation is kend to our kinsman, itwinna be lang before some aid appear. O if it wad but come afore weare driven to that last and warst of a' shifts to keep in life."
"We canna live another day," said Tam: "I therefore propose that themaid and the boy try ilk ane their hand at a tale too, and stand theirchances with the rest of us. Their lives are of less value, and theirbodies very tender and delicate."
Every one protested against Tam's motion with abhorrence; and it wasagreed that they would now appeal to the Master who had told theworst tale. Not that the unfortunate victim was to be immediatelysacrificed, nor even till the very last extremity; but with thatimpatience natural to man, they longed to be put out of pain; everyone having hopes that his own merits protected himself from danger.Every one also believed that judgment would be given against Tam,except he himself; and that, at all events, such an award would put anend to his disagreeable and endless exultations of voracious delight.They then went before the renowned wizard, and desired him to givejudgment who of them had related the worst and most inefficient tale,laying all prejudice with regard to creeds and testimonies aside.
He asked them if they referred the matter entirely to him, or if theywished to have each one a vote of their own? Tam said it was anunderstanding at first that each should have a vote, and, as he hadmade up his mind on the subject, he wished to give his. Charlie saidit was a hard matter to vote away the life of a friend; and, for hispart, he would rather appeal to the great Master altogether. But ifany doubts should remain with any one of their host's impartiality, hethought it fairer that they should cast lots, and hazard all alike.The poet, who had heard the Master's disapprobation given pointedly ofhis tale, sided with Yardbire, and voted that it should be decided bylot. Gibbie, though quite convinced in his own mind that he had toldthe best story, yet having heard the _morality_ of it doubted, anddreading on that score to have some voices against him, called alsofor a vote; for he said the referring the matter to the Master broughthim in mind of the story of the fox sitting in judgment, and decidingagainst the lamb. The friar also said, "Verily, I should give my voicefor the judgment of the Master to stand decisive: But, lo! is it notapparent that his thoughts are not like the thoughts of other men?Neither is his mind governed by the motives of the rest of thechildren of men. I do therefore lift up my voice for the judgment thatgoeth by lot. I would, notwithstanding of all this, gladly hear whatthe Master would say."
"I will be so far just that I shall give you your choice," said MasterMichael Scott: "Nevertheless I can tell you, if there be any justicein the decision by lot, on whom the lot will fall." A pause ofbreathless anxiety occurred, and every eye was fixed on the grim andstern visage of the great necromancer, over whose features thereappeared to pass a gleam of wild delight. "It will fall," added he,"on that man of fables and similitudes, who himself bears thesimilitude of a man, just as the lion's hide stuffed does theresemblance of a real one. How do you call that beautiful and amiablebeing with the nose that would split a drop of rain without beingwet?"
"Most illustrious knight, and master of the arts of mystery," said thefriar,--"as this man is, so is his name; for he is called Jordan,after the great river that is in the east, which overfloweth its banksat certain seasons, and falls into the stagnant lake called the DeadSea, whose waters are diseased. So doth the matter of this our friendoverflow, pass away, and is lost. But what sayest thou of the defaultof his story? Dost thou remember that it is not for the best storythat we cast lots, but the worst?"
"Ay, that's weel said, good friar," said Charlie; "for, trifling asthe laird's story was, I never heard ought sae queer, or thatinterested ane mair. If there be ony justice in lots, the laird'ssafe."
"Your's was the best tale, gallant yeoman," said the Master, "and youmay rest assured that you are safe. The dumb judge will not err, andthere is one overlooks the judgment by lot, of whom few are aware. Isay your's was the best tale.
"Thank ye kindly, Master Michael Scott," said Charlie; "I'm feared ilkane winna be o' your opinion."
The friar then took from the side-pockets of his frock a few scrapsof parchment, amounting to fifteen. Twelve of these he marked witha red cross, and three with a black one, to prevent all infernalinterference; then rolling them closely up, he counted them all intohis cowl before his companions, and, shaking them together, he causedevery one to do the same. Then putting the cowl into the virgin'shand, they desired her to hold it until they drew forth their scrapsone by one. She did so, while her bright eyes were drowned in tears,and each of the candidates put in his hand, selecting his lot.
"Let them be opened, one by one, before all these witnesses," criedthe Master; "that no suspicions of foul play whatever may remain."
The friar drew forth his without one muscle of his unyielding featuresbeing altered, and turning deliberately about, he opened it beforethem all. It was red. The friar bowed his head, and made the sign ofthe cross. Charlie thrust in his hand,--pulled out a ticket,--and toreit open, all in on
e moment, and with the same impatience that hefought in a battle. His was likewise red.
"Gude faith I'm aince ower the water," said Charlie.
Tam put in his hand with a decision that would have done honour to abetter man, the form of his mouth only being a little altered.
"Now, who will take me a bet of a three-year old cout," cried Gibbie,"that the next shall turn out a black one?" and he grinned a ghastlysmile, in anticipation of the wished event. Tam kept his hand withinthe cowl for a good while, as if groping which to select. At length hedrew one forth; and before he got it opened, Gibbie's long nose andhis own had met above it, so eager was each of them to see what itcontained. It was opened. Each of them raised up his face, and lookedat the face of his opponent; but with what different expressionsof countenance! The cross on the lot was red! Grief, dread, anddisappointment were all apparent in the features of poor Jordan, whilethe exulting looks of his provoking neighbour were hardly to beendured.
"What think you o' that now, laird?" cried he. "What does that bringyou in mind o'? Eh? I say, wha's jugular vein swells highest now; orwha's shoulder-blade stands maist need o' clawing?"
This was rather more than Gibbie was disposed at that juncture tobear; and when Tam, as he concluded, put forth his forefinger toascertain the thickness of fat on the laird's ribs, the latter struckhim with such force on the wrist, that he rendered his arm powerlessfor a space. He put his hand to his sword, but could not grasp it;while Gibbie, seeing the motion, had his out in a twinkling; and ifthe staunch friar had not turned it aside, he would have had itthrough the heart of the deil's Tam in a second, which might haveprevented the further drawing of lots for that present time, andthereby put an end to a very critical and disagreeable business.Gibbie was far from being a hot or passionate man; but whether hisrage was a manoere to put by the decision, or if he really wasoffended at being handled like a wedder for slaughter, the curatepretends not to guess. He however raged and fumed exceedingly, andtried again and again to wound Tam, while the rest were remonstratingwith him; nor would he be pacified, until Tam's disabled arm bydegrees regaining somewhat of its pristine nerve, he retreated backtowards the battlement for sword-room, and dared the laird to thecombat. Gibbie struggled hard; but finding that they were about tolet him go, his wrath subsided a little; he put up his sword, and saidthe whole business reminded him of a story of the laird of Tweelsdonand his two brothers, which he assured them was a prime story, andbegged permission to tell it. This was protested against with onevoice until the business of the lots was decided, and then all werewilling to hear it. "Oh, the lots? that is quite true," said Gibbie:"I declare that business had gone out of my head. Let us see whatcasts up next." There was a relaxation in every muscle of Gibbie'sface as he put his hand into the cowl. But Gibbie's was a sort of across face. It did not grow long and sallow as most other men's facesdo when they are agitated. The jaws did not fall down, they closed up;so that his face grew a great deal shorter and broader. The eye-browsand the cheek-bones met, and the nose and chin approached to a closevicinity. He drew forth the momentous scrap, and, with fumbling andparalytic hand, opened it before them. The cross was black. He darednot lift his eyes to any face there save to Delany's, and when he sawit covered with tears his looks again reverted that way. This lot itis true was not decisive, yet it placed Gibbie on ticklish ground; ithaving been agreed, that whoever should draw the two first blackcrosses, subjected himself to immolation, if the necessity of the caserequired it. The great Master and Tam were visibly well pleased withthe wicked chance that had fallen to the laird. The motives of theformer for this delight were quite a mystery to those who beheld it;as for Tam, he seemed determined to keep no more terms with poorGibbie.
The poet also drew a red one; and then it was decreed, that the nextround Gibbie should have his choice of the time, if he judged it anyadvantage either to be first or last. He seemed quite passive, andsaid it was all one to him, he should draw at any time they chose, anddesired his friend Yardbire, as he termed him, to choose for him.Charlie said he deemed the first chance the best, as he had then fourchances to be right, for one of being wrong; and it would be singularindeed if his hand fixed on a black cross again for a time or two,when more of them might be on an equal footing.
Gibbie accordingly turned round, and drew out one more of the ominousscraps, opening it under the eyes of all the circle with rather ahopeful look. "If the deil be nae in the cowl, I shall hae a red anethis time," said he, as he unrolled it; but as soon as the head of thecross appeared the ticket fell from his hand; and, as the friarexpressed it, there was no more strength remaining in him. "Verily, myson, thy fate is decided," said the latter worthy; "and that in awonderful and arbitrary manner. As the Master said, so hath it come topass, although to judge of any thing having been done unfairly isimpossible."
"It is absolute nonsense to talk of aught being done fairly in thisplace," said Charlie Scott: "There's naething but witchcraft gaun. Itell ye a' things here are done by witchery an' the black arts; andafter what I heard the king of a' warlocks say, that the lot wad fa'in this way, I winna believe that honest Gibbie has gotten fair playfor his life."
"If you would try it an hundred times over," said the Master, "youwould see it turn out in the same way. Did not I say to you that therewas a power presided over the decision by lot, which you neither knownor comprehend. Man of metaphors and old wives' fables, where art thounow?" "Keep a gude heart, Peatstacknowe," said Charlie; "perhapsthings may not come to the worst. I have great dependence on DanChisholm and the warden's good men. I wonder they have not appearedwi' proper mattocks, or ladders, by this time o' the morning."
"If they should," said the Master, "and if we were all set at libertythis minute, he shall remain my bondsman, in place of these two andhim of whom your arts have bereaved me. Remember to what you agreedformerly, of which I now remind you."
"I think that is but fair," said the poet.
"I do not know, gentlemen, what you call fair or foul," said Gibbie:"I think there is little that is favourable going for somebody. Of thetwo evils, I judge the last the worst. I appeal to my captain theWarden." Gibbie's looks were so rueful and pitiable when he said this,that no one had the heart to remonstrate farther with him on thejustice or injustice of his doom. The Master and Tam enjoyed hisplight exceedingly; the poet rejoiced in it, as it tended to freeDelany from a vile servitude; and the friar also was glad of therelease of the darling of his younger years, the grand-daughter ofGalli the scribe. Charlie and Delany were the only two that appearedto suffer on account of the laird's dismal prospects, and theirfeelings were nearly as acute as his own. Stories and all sorts ofamusements were now discontinued. A damp was thrown over these by thedismal gloom on the laird's countenance, and the congenial feelings ofothers on his account. The night had passed over without any morevisitants from the infernal regions; the day had arisen in the midstof heaviness and gloom; and every eye was turned towards the mill, inthe expecsation of seeing the approach of Dan and his companions.