S. R. Crockett - The Black Douglas

S >> S. R. Crockett >> The Black Douglas

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28

The lady went on quickly, as if avoiding any further mention of
Sholto's name.

"Nevertheless, to-morrow I must see you ride in the lists. My uncle
says that your father was a mighty lance when he rode at Amboise, on
the famous day of the Thirteen Victories."

"Ah, but my father was twice the man that I am," said the Earl, who
had not taken his eyes from her face since she began to speak.

"Great alike in love and war?" she queried, smiling.

"So, at least, it is reported of him in Touraine," answered his son,
smiling back at her.

"He loved and rode away, like all your race!" cried the girl, with a
strange sudden flicker of passion which died as suddenly. "But I think
it not of you, Lord William. I know you could be true--that is, where
you truly loved."

And as she spoke she looked at him with a questioning eagerness in her
eyes which was almost pitiful.

"I do love and I am loyal," said the young man, with a grave quiet
which became him well, and ought to have served him better with a
woman than many protestations.

CHAPTER XX

ANDRO THE PENMAN GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS STEWARDSHIP

In the fighting of that day James Douglas, the second son of the fat
Earl of Avondale, won the prize, worsting his elder brother William in
the final encounter. The victor was a nobly formed youth, of strength
and stature greater than those of his brother, but without William of
Avondale's haughty spirit and stern self-discipline.

For James Douglas had the easy popular virtues which would drink with
any drawer or pricker at a tavern board, and made him ready to clap
his last gold Lion on the platter to pay for the draught--telling, as
like as not, the good gossip of the inn to keep the change, and (if
well favoured) give him a kiss therefor. The Douglas _cortege_ rode
home amid the shoutings of the holiday makers who thronged all the
approaches to the ford in order to see the great nobles and their
trains ride by, and Sholto and his men had much trouble to keep these
spectators as far back as was decent and seemly.

The Earl summoned his victorious cousins, William and James, to ride
with him and the tourney's Queen of Beauty. But William proved even
more silent than usual, and his dark face and upright carriage caused
him to sit his charger as if carved in iron. Jolly James, on the other
hand, attempted a jest or two which savoured rustically enough.
Nevertheless, he received the compliments of the Lady Sybilla on his
courage and address with the equanimity of a practised soldier. He was
already, indeed, the best knight in Scotland, even as he was twelve
years after when in the lists of Stirling he fought with the famous
Messire Lalain, the Burgundian champion.

Earl William dropped behind to speak a moment with Sholto, and to give
him the orders which he was to convey to the provost of the games with
regard to the encounter of the morrow.

La Joyeuse took the opportunity of addressing her nearer and more
silent companion.

"You are, I think, the head of the other Douglas House," said the Lady
Sybilla, glancing up at the stern and unbending Master of Avondale.

"There is but one house of Douglas, and but one head thereof," replied
Lord William, with a certain severity, and without looking at her. The
lady had the grace to blush, either with shame or with annoyance at
the rebuff.

"Pardon," she said, "you must remember that I am a foreigner. I do not
understand your genealogies. I thought that even in France I had heard
of the Black Douglas and the Red."

"The Red and the Black alike are the liegemen of William of Douglas,
whom Angus and Avondale both have the honour of serving," answered he,
still more uncompromisingly.

"Aye," cried the jovial James, "cousin Will is the only chief, and
will make a rare lance when he hath eaten a score or two more bolls of
meal."

The Earl William returned even as James was speaking.

"What is that I hear about bolls of meal?" he said; "what wots this
fair damosel of our rude Scots measures for oats and bear? You talk
like the holder of a twenty-shilling land, James."

"I was saying," answered James Douglas, "that you would be a proper
man of your lance when you had laid a score or two bolls of good
Galloway meal to your ribs. English beef and beer are excellent, and
drive a lance home into an unarmed foe; but it needs good Scots oats
at the back of the spear-haft to make the sparks fly when knight meets
with knight and iron rings on iron."

"Indeed, cousin Jamie," said the Earl, "you have some right to your
porridge, for this day you have overturned well nigh a score of good
knights and come off unhurt and unashamed. Cousin William, how liked
you the whammel you got from James' lance in your final course?"

"Not that ill," said the silent Master; "I am indeed better at taking
than at giving. James is a stouter lance than I shall ever be--"

"Not so," cried jolly James. "Our Will never doth himself justice. He
is for ever reading Deyrolles and John Froissard in order to learn new
ways and tricks of fence, which he practises on the tilting ground,
instead of riding with a tight knee and the weight of his body behind
the shaft of ash. That is what drives the tree home, and so he gets
many a coup. Yet to fall, and to be up and at it again, is by far the
truer courage."

The Lady Sybilla laughed, as it seemed, heartily, yet with some little
bitterness in the sound of it.

"I declare you Douglases stick together like crabs in a basket.
Cousins in France do not often love each other so well. You are
fortunate in your relations, my Lord Duke."

"Indeed, and that I am," cried the young man, joyously. "Here be my
cousins, William and James--Will ever ready to read me out of wise
books and advise me better than any clerk, Jamie aching to drive lance
through any man's midriff in my quarrel."

"Lord, I would that I had the chance!" cried James. "Saint Bride! but
I would make a hole clean through him and out at the back, though my
elbuck should dinnle for a week after."

So talking together, but with the lady riding more silent and somewhat
constrainedly in their midst, the three cousins of Douglas passed the
drawbridge and came again to the precincts of the noble towers of
Thrieve.

* * * * *

In an hour Sholto followed them, having ridden fast and furious across
the long broomy braes of Boreland, and wet the fringes of his
charger's silken coverture by vaingloriously swimming the Dee at the
castle pool instead of going round by the fords. This he did in the
hope that Maud Lindesay might see him. And so she did; for as he came
round by the outside of the moat, making his horse caracole and
thinking no little of himself, he heard a voice from an upper window
call out: "Sholto MacKim, Maudie says that you look like a draggled
crow. No, I will not be silent."

Then the words were shut off as if a hand had been set over the mouth
which spoke. But presently the voice out of the unseen came again:
"And I hate you, Sholto MacKim. For we have had to keep in our chamber
this livelong day, because of the two men you have placed over us, as
if we had been prisoners in Black Archibald.[1] This very day I am
going to ask my brother to hang Black Andro and John his brother on
the dule tree of Carlinwark."

[Footnote 1: The pet name of the deepest dungeon of Castle Thrieve,
yet extant and plain to be seen by all.]

"Yes, indeed, and most properly," cried another voice, which made his
very heart flutter, "and set his new captain of the guard a-dangle in
the midst, decked out from head to foot in peacocks' feathers."

Sholto was very angry, for like a boy he took not chaffing lightly,
and had neither the harshness of hide which can endure the rasping of
a woman's tongue, nor the quickness of speech to give her the counter
retort.

So he cast the reins of his horse to a stable varlet and stamped
indoors, carrying his master's helmet to the armoury. Then still
without speech to any he brushed hastily up the stairs towards the
upper floor, which he had set Andro the Penman and his brother to
guard.

At the turning of the staircase David Douglas, the Earl's brother,
stopped him. Sholto moved in salute and would have passed by.

But David detained him with an impetuous hand.

"What is this?" he said; "you have set two archers on the stairs who
have shot and almost killed the ambassador's two servants, Poitou the
man-at-arms, and Henriet the clerk, just because they wished to take
the air upon the roof. Nay, even when I would have visited my sister,
I was not permitted--'None passes here save the Earl himself, till
our captain takes his orders off us!' That was the word they spoke.
Was ever the like done in the castle of Thrieve to a Master of Douglas
before?"

"I am sorry, my Lord David," said Sholto, respectfully, "but there
were matters within the knowledge of the Earl which caused him to lay
this heavy charge upon me."

"Well," said the lad, quickly relenting, "let us go and see Margaret
now. She must have been lonely all this fair day of summer."

But Sholto smiled, well pleased, thinking of Maud Lindesay.

"I would that I had a lifetime of such loneliness as Margaret's hath
been this day," he said to himself.

At the turning of the stair they were stayed, for there, his foot
advanced, his bow ready to deliver its steel bolt at the clicking of a
trigger, stood Andro the Swarthy.

From his stance he commanded the stair and could see along the
corridor as well.

David Douglas caught his elbow on something which stood a few inches
out of the oaken panelling of the turnpike wall. He tried to pull it
out. It was the steel quarrel of a cross-bow wedged firmly into the
wood and masonry. He cried: "Whence came this? Have you been murdering
any other honest men?"

The archer stood silent, glancing this way and that like a sentinel on
duty. The two young men went on up the stair.

As their feet were approaching the sixth step, a sudden word came from
the Penman like a bolt from his bow.

"Halt!" he cried, and they heard the _gur-r-r-r_ of his steel ratchet.

Sholto smiled, for he knew the nature of the man.

"It is I, your captain," he said. "You have done your duty well, Andro
the Penman. Now get down to your dinner. But first give an account of
your adventures."

"Do you relieve us from our charge?" said the archer, with his bow
still at the ready.

"Certainly," quoth Sholto.

"Come, Jock, we are eased," cried Andro the Swarthy up the stair, and
he slid the steel bolt out of its grip with a little click; "faith, my
belly is toom as a last year's beef barrel."

"Did any come hither to vex you?" asked Sholto.

"Not to speak of," said the archer; "there were, indeed, two varlets
of the Frenchmen, and as they would not take a bidding to stand, I had
perforce to send a quarrel buzzing past their lugs into the wall. You
can see it there behind you."

"Rascal," cried David Douglas, indignantly, "you do not say that first
of all you shot it through the arm of the poor clerk Henriet."

"It is like enough," said Andro, coolly, "if his arm were in the way."

Then came a voice down the stairs from above.

"And the wretches would neither let any come to visit us nor yet
permit us to go into the hall that we might speak with our gossips."

"How should we be responsible with our lives for the lasses if we had
let them gad about?" said Andro, preparing to salute and take himself
off.

At this moment the little maid and her elder companion came forward
meekly and kneeled down before Sholto.

"We are your humble prisoners," said Maud Lindesay, "and we know that
our offences against your highness are most heinous; but why should
you starve us to death? Burn us or hang us,--we will bear the extreme
penalty of the law gladly,--but torture is not for women. For dear
pity's sake, a bite of bread. We have had nothing to eat all day,
except two lace kerchiefs and a neck riband."

"Lord of Heaven," cried Sholto, swinging on his heel and darting down
towards the kitchen, "what a fool unutterable I am!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE BAILIES OF DUMFRIES

The combat of the third day was, by the will of the Earl, to be of a
peculiar kind. It was the custom at that time for the _melee_ to be
fought between an equal number of knights in open lists, each being at
liberty to carry assistance to his friends as soon as he had disposed
of his own man. On this occasion, however, the fight was to be between
three knights with their several squires on the one side, and an equal
number of knights and squires on the other.

As the combat of the previous day had decided, young James Douglas of
Avondale was to lead one party, being the successful tilter of the day
of single combat, while the Earl himself was to head the other.

The chances of battle must be borne, and whatever happened in the
shock of fight was to be endured without complaint. But no blow was to
be struck at either knight or squire in any way disabled by wound.

To Sholto's great and manifest joy the Earl, his master, chose the new
captain of his guard to support him in the fray, and told him to make
choice of the best battle-axe and sword he could find, as well as to
provide himself with the shield which most suited the strength of his
left arm.

"By your permission I will ask my father," said Sholto.

"He also fights on our side as the squire of Alan Fleming," said the
Earl; "if Laurence had not been a monk, he might have made a third
MacKim."

Then was Sholto's heart high and uplifted within him, to think of the
victory he would achieve over his brother less than two days after
they had parted, and he hastened off to choose his arms under the
direction of his father.

The party of James of Avondale consisted of his brother William and
young John Lauder, called Lauder of the Bass. These three had already
entered their pavilion to accoutre themselves for the combat when a
trumpet announced the arrival from the castle of the ambassador of
France, who, being recovered from his sickness, had come in haste to
see the fighting of the last and greatest day of the tourney.

As soon as he heard the wager of battle the marshal cried: "I also
will strike a blow this day for the honour of France. My quinsy has
altogether left me, and my blood flows strong after the rest. I will
take part with James of Avondale."

And, without waiting to be asked, he went off followed by his servant
Poitou towards the pavilion of the Avondale trio.

Now as the Marshal de Retz was the chief guest, it was impossible for
James of Avondale to refuse his offer. But there was anger and
blasphemy in his heart, for he knew not what the Frenchman could do,
and though he had undoubtedly been a gallant knight in his day, yet in
these matters (as James Douglas whispered to his brother) a week's
steady practice is worth a lifetime of theory. Still there was nothing
for the brothers from Douglasdale but to make the best of their
bargain. The person most deserving of pity, however, was the young
laird of the Bass, who, being thus dispossessed, went out to the back
of the lists and actually shed tears, being little more than a boy,
and none looking on to see him.

Then he came back hastily, and besought James of Douglas to let him
fight as his squire, saying that as he had never taken up the
knighthood which had been bestowed on him by the Earl for his journey
to France, there could be nothing irregular in his fighting once more
as a simple esquire. And thus, after an appeal to the Earl himself, it
was arranged, much to John Lauder's content.

For his third knight the Douglas had made choice of his cousin Hugh,
younger brother of his two opponents, and at that William and James of
Avondale shook their heads.

"He pushes a good tree, our Hughie," said James. "If he comes at you,
Will, mind that trick of swerving that he hath. Aim at his right
gauntlet, and you will hit his shield."

The conflict on the Boat Croft differed much from the chivalrous
encounters of an earlier time and a richer country. And of this more
anon.

It chanced that on the borders of the crowd which that day begirt the
great enclosure of the lists two burgesses of Dumfries stood on
tiptoe,--to wit, Robert Semple, merchant dealing in cloth and wool,
and Ninian Halliburton, the brother of Barbara, wife of Malise MacKim,
master armourer, whose trade was only conditioned by the amount of
capital he could find to lay out and the probability he had of
disposing of his purchase within a reasonable time.

It would give an entirely erroneous impression of the state of
Scotland in 1440 if the sayings and doings of the wise and shrewd
burghers of the towns of Scotland were left wholly without a
chronicler. The burghs of Scotland were at once the cradles and
strongholds of liberty. They were not subject to the great nobles.
They looked with jealousy on all encroachments on their liberties, and
had sharp swords wherewith to enforce their objection. They had been
endowed with privileges by the wise and politic kings of Scotland,
from William the Lion down to James the First, of late worthy memory.
For they were the best bulwark of the central authority against the
power of the great nobles of the provinces.

Now Robert Semple and Ninian Halliburton were two worthy citizens of
Dumfries, men of respectability, well provided for by the success of
their trade and the saving nature of their wives. They had come
westward to the Thrieve for two purposes: to deliver a large
consignment of goods and gear, foreign provisions and fruits, to the
controller of the Earl's household, and to receive payment therefor,
partly in money and partly in the wool and cattle; hides and tallow,
which have been the staple products of Galloway throughout her
generations.

Their further purposes and intents in venturing so far west of the
safe precincts of their burgh of Dumfries may be gathered from their
conversation hereinafter to be reported.

Ninian Halliburton was a rosy-faced, clean-shaven man, with a habit of
constantly pursing out his lips and half closing his eyes, as if he
were sagely deciding on the advisability of some doubtful bargain. His
companion, Robert Semple, had a similar look of shrewdness, but added
to it his face bore also the imprint of a sly and lurking humour not
unlike that of the master armourer himself. In time bygone he had kept
his terms at the college of Saint Andrews, where you may find on the
list of graduates the name of Robertus Semple, written by the
foundational hand of Bishop Henry Wardlaw himself. And upon his body,
as the Bailie of Dumfries would often feelingly recall, he bore the
memory, if not the marks, of the disciplining of Henry Ogilvy, Master
in Arts--a wholesome custom, too much neglected by the present regents
of the college, as he would add.

"This is an excellent affair for us," said Ninian Halliburton,
standing with his hands folded placidly over his ample stomach, only
occasionally allowing them to wander in order to feel and approve the
pile of the brown velvet out of which the sober gown was constructed.
"A good thing for us, I say, that there are great lords like the Earl
of Douglas to keep up the expense of such days as this."

"It were still better," answered his companion, dryly, "if the great
nobles would pay poor merchants according to their promises, instead
of threatening them with the dule tree if they so much as venture to
ask for their money. Neither you nor I, Bailie, can buy in the
lowlands of Holland without a goodly provision of the broad gold
pieces that are so hard to drag from the nobles of Scotland."

The rosy-gilled Bailie of Dumfries looked up at his friend with a
quick expression of mingled hope and anxiety.

"Does the Earl o' Douglas owe you ony siller?" he asked in a hushed
whisper, "for if he does, I am willing to take over the debt--for a
consideration."

"Nay," said Semple, "I only wish he did. The Douglases of the Black
were never ill debtors. They keep their hand in every man's meal ark,
but as they are easy in taking, they are also quick in paying."

"Siller in hand is the greatest virtue of a buyer," said the Bailie,
with unction. "But, Robert Semple, though I was willing to oblige ye
as a friend by taking over your debt, I'll no deny that ye gied me a
fricht. For hae I no this day delivered to the bursar o' the castle o'
Thrieve sax bales o' pepper and three o' the best spice, besides much
cumin, alum, ginger, seat-well, almonds, rice, figs, raisins, and
other sic thing. Moreover, there is owing to me, for wine and vinegar,
mair than twa hunder pound. Was that no enough to gar me tak a 'dwam'
when ye spoke o' the great nobles no payin'!"

"I would that all our outlying monies were as safe," said Semple; "but
here come the knights and squires forth from their tents. Tell me,
Ninian, which o' the lads are your sister's sons."

"There is but one o' the esquires that is Barbara Halliburton's son,"
answered the Bailie; "the ither is her ain man--and a great ram-stam,
unbiddable, unhallowed deevil he is--Guid forbid that I should say as
muckle to his face!"

CHAPTER XXII

WAGER OF BATTLE

The knights had moved slowly out from their pavilions on either side,
and now stood waiting the order to charge. My Lord Maxwell sat by the
side of the Lady Sybilla, and held the truncheon, the casting down of
which was to part the combatants and end the fight. The three knights
on the southern or Earl's side were a singular contrast to their
opponents. Two of them, the Earl William and his cousin Hugh, were no
more than boys in years, though already old in military exercises; the
third, Alan Fleming of Cumbernauld, was a strong horseman and
excellent with his lance, though also slender of body and more
distinguished for dexterity than for power of arm. Yet he was destined
to lay a good lance in rest that day, and to come forth unshamed.

The Avondale party were to the eye infinitely the stronger, that is
when knights only were considered. For James Douglas was little less
than a giant. His jolly person and frank manners seemed to fill all
the field with good humour, and from his station he cried challenges
to his cousin the Earl and defiances to his brother Hugh, with that
broad rollicking wit which endeared him to the commons, to whom
"Mickle Lord Jamie" had long been a popular hero.

"Bid our Hugh there rin hame for his hippen clouts lest he make of
himself a shame," he cried; "'tis not fair that we should have to
fight with babes."

"Mayhap he will be as David to your Goliath, thou great gomeril!"
replied the Earl with equal good humour, seeing his cousin Hugh blush
and fumble uncomfortably at his arms.

Then to the lad himself he said: "Keep a light hand on your rein, a
good grip at the knee, and after the first shock we will ride round
them like swallows about so many bullocks."

The other two Avondale knights, William Douglas and the Marshal de
Retz, were also large men, and the latter especially, clothed in black
armour and with the royal ermines of Brittany quartered on his shield,
looked a stern and commanding figure.

The squires were well matched. These fought on foot, armed according
to custom with sword, axe, and dagger--though Sholto would much have
preferred to trust to his arrow skill even against the plate of the
knights.

The trumpets blew their warning from the judge's gallery. The six
opposing knights laid their lances in rest. The squires leaned a
little forward as if about to run a race. Lord Maxwell raised his
truncheon. The trumpets sounded again, and as their stirring
_taran-tara_ rang down the wide strath of Dee, the riders spurred
their horses into full career. It so chanced that, as they had stood,
James of Avondale was opposite the Earl, each being in the midst as
was their right as leaders. The Master of Avondale opposed his brother
Hugh, and the Marshal de Retz couched spear against young Alan
Fleming. In this order they started to ride their course. But at the
last moment, instead of riding straight for his man, the Frenchman
swerved to the left, and, raising his lance high in the air, he threw
it in the manner of his country straight at the visor bars of the
young Earl of Douglas. The spear of James of Avondale at the same time
taking him fair in the middle of his shield, the double assault caused
the young man to fall heavily from his saddle, so that the crash
sounded dully over the field.

"Treachery! Treachery!--A foul false stroke! A knave's device!" cried
nine-tenths of those who were crowded about the barriers. "Stop the
fight! Kill the Frenchman!"

"Not so," cried Lord Maxwell, "they were to fight as best they could,
and they must fight it to the end!"

And this being a decision not to be gainsaid, the combat proceeded on
very unequal terms. Sholto, who had been eagerly on the stretch to
match himself with the squire of James of Avondale, the young knight
of the Bass, found himself suddenly astride of his lord's body and
defending himself against both the French ambassador and his squire
Poitou, who had simultaneously crossed over to the attack. For the
Marshal de Retz, if not in complete defiance of the written rule of
chivalry, at least against the spirit of gallantry and the rules of
the present tourney, would have thrust the Earl through with his spear
as he lay, crying at the same time, "A outrance! A outrance!" to
excuse the foulness of his deed.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28