Now, reader, for a short recapitulation of events which occupied several weeks. I must be brief, for the stern limits stare me in the face, and the tale must needs, perforce, draw to a conclusion. First, then, with the Earl of Gowrie. In a few days he returned to Trochrie, meeting his mother by the way, and escorting her with kindly care and tenderness. The best apartments in the castle had been prepared for her. The summer was of unusual brightness. The day had been one long lapse of sunny light; and although, when the countess passed the dark portal of the castle, which she had last entered with a gallant husband, since torn from her by a bloody death, a shade of gloom, cast from the cloudy past, fell upon her, yet it passed speedily away, when, with her hand clasped in that of her son, and the beautiful arms of his promised bride around her neck, she stood in the old hall, and looked forward through the perspective glass of hope towards the future.
A month passed away in joys and pleasant sports; Gowrie's household was now completed. The number of his attendants and his tenantry, the friendship of the neighbouring clans, the support of his relation, the Countess of Athol--all rendered the residence at Trochrie perfectly secure against any machinations of his enemies; and fear was banished from the dwelling. The younger brothers of the house of Ruthven appeared at the castle from time to time. His sister Barbara, quiet and nun-like in character, spent the greater part of her time there. An occasional guest partook of their hospitality. The mornings were passed in chasing the deer, or in rides amongst the hills; and the evenings in calmer and more intellectual pleasures. The old countess would sit and listen, as it were entranced, while her son's promised bride sang the exquisite songs of other lands, or while Gowrie himself, with the peculiar charm which is given by high conversational powers, told brief outpointed anecdotes of countries he had visited, or great men whom he had known; and, while she gazed upon the extraordinary loveliness of the one, or the high-toned, manly beauty of the other, she would say to herself, "These two were certainly formed by Heaven to be united," and would add, with a half-doubtful sigh, "and to be happy."
At the end of about a month, suddenly and unexpectedly, they were joined at Trochrie by the earl's younger brother, Alexander. He seemed to shrink from all explanation of the causes of his having quitted the court; and when his mother made some inquiries as to whether the king and he were still friends, replied, "Yes. His majesty parted with me most graciously."
Gowrie asked no questions; but he divined much. He was kind and gentle to his brother, however; and the youth seemed to feel his forbearance deeply, and showed greater reverence and affection than he had ever done before. His faults were those of youth, passion, and indiscretion; but his heart was generous and kind, and experience and example might have made him a great and a good man.
The period of his stay at Trochrie was the happiest, by far the happiest, of Gowrie's life; and it went on increasing in brightness, for the days were rapidly approaching which were to make Julia his.
As the month of July waned towards a close, it became needful, however, that some preparation should be made for his approaching nuptials; and to ascertain whether, as he hoped and trusted was the case, the feelings of enmity which the king had shown him had been mitigated by time, he wrote to Beatrice, who was still with the queen at Falkland, and to Sir George Ramsay, who was likely to obtain correct information through his brother. Both the answers were favourable, for James was an accomplished hypocrite whenever it suited his purpose to be so; and Beatrice replied, "I trust that all danger is past, and former things forgotten. The king seldom mentions you, my dear brother, which is a good sign; and when he does so, it is with a joke, which is a sign still better. He said the other day, that you were so busy courting your fair lady, that you could not give a thought to king or cousin; and added, that if he could find out the day you were to be married, he would go as a guisard, and dance at your wedding."
Sir George Ramsay's letter was much to the same effect.
"I trust," he said, "that time is curing old wounds. If anything is meditated against you, my dear lord, I will undertake to say, that it is unknown to my brother as well as to myself, for John is not of a deceitful disposition, but rather rash and bold. He would not, and he could not, conceal from me what he knows; and as he mentioned your name the other day, if any design had menaced you, it would have been told."
With such assurances, the young earl's plans were soon formed, and it was agreed that the dowager countess, with her two younger sons and Julia, should proceed by one road to Dirleton, avoiding the court at Falkland, while Gowrie, with Alexander Ruthven, should go for a few days to Perth, to make preparations for the reception of his bride, and then join his mother and the rest of the family in East Lothian, on the ensuing 5th of August. The marriage was appointed to take place on the 1st of September, the earliest day which their promise to the old Count Manucci permitted.
With such plans and purposes, Julia and her lover parted on the 30th of July, 1600, in the fond anticipation of meeting again before the week was at an end. Gowrie rode on to Perth; and the news of his arrival spread through the county, where many of the gentry were now assembled after having passed the winter and spring in courts and cities. Multitudes flocked to see and congratulate the young earl on his return, and on his approaching marriage; and, to say truth, the crowd of visitors was somewhat inconvenient, considering the many preparations he had to make, and the shortness of his proposed stay. On the morning after his arrival, indeed, the inconvenience was rendered greater than it otherwise might have been, by a circumstance which seemed at the time merely ludicrous, but which was not without its significance. Gowrie, on reaching the gates of his own dwelling, had found them open, and the porter absent. He was somewhat angry at the neglect, but on speaking to his factor, Henderson, the latter excused the porter, saying that he had asked leave to absent himself for a day, which had been granted, as the earl's arrival so soon was not expected. The fault of the gates being open the factor took upon himself, and proceeded to lock them with his own keys, before he departed for the night to his small house in the town of Perth. He forgot, however, to leave his keys behind him; and when, early on the following morning, two or three of the neighbouring noblemen presented themselves at the gates, they could not obtain, and Gowrie could not give admission, except by a small postern door in the garden wall. Christie, the porter, did not return till night, and upon being questioned as to where he had been, replied, "To Falkland, my lord. I went to see my sister, who is servant there."
"Saw you the king?" asked his lord; but to this question the man returned one of those equivocal answers which are often all that can be obtained from a Scotchman of the lower class, who has no mind to be cross-questioned. It implied that he had just caught a sight of his majesty, but certainly did not imply that he had spoken with him.
Was this the plain truth? I trow not; for James was much accustomed to trust to his own skill alone in all dangerous negotiations.
The earl, however, had no suspicion of the truth, and dismissed the man to his duty, with a slight reproof for having carried the keys away with him. This occurred on Thursday, the 31st July, and I must now ask the reader to pass over two days, and follow me to Falkland, on Saturday, the 2nd August.
Do you see that little door, opening from a back staircase, and somewhat high up in the building? It looks like the entrance to the bedroom of some inferior follower of the court. It is on the third story, just over the king's closet, and the staircase goes no farther. Hark! there are voices speaking within! Laughter, too, and merriment. Is it a party of revellers hiding themselves there, to enjoy a debauch unobserved? No, it is a king and a king's confederate, talking over deeds of blood and cruelty.
"He'll come, he'll come," said James, "just as ae deer comes to the belling of another. But I'll no write, man--it's better to hold one's hand from written papers; they come up long after; I'll send him a message. Now, then, Sir Hugh, let us think who we can best trust. Tommy Erskine is o'er soft-hearted, or he might be a good man, for he'll keep the king's counsel, I think. You may just whisper a word of the matter to him and to Geordie Hume--not Sir John, mind--but tell them not all; only just an inkling."
"Ramsay, I suppose, must know the whole?" said Herries; "he's a man of action, prompt and ready, and hates the whole name of Ruthven."
"Fye, now, ye silly gowk!" cried James, laughing; "it is just because he is what you call him, that he shall not know a word before the time. He'll be prompt enough, and ready for action at a minute's warning; and his hatred of the Ruthvens will make him fancy any ill of them the moment they are accused. But I'll tell you, doctor, you must be there to put him forward the moment I cry out. Have him where he can see and hear all as soon as it happens."
"I will take care, sire," replied Herries, with a meaning look. "I have held a hound in leash before now, and put him on the scent at the right minute."
James laughed again, saying, "Well run our buck down this time, I think, doctor. But we must have some more. I'm not that fond of trusting such secrets to lords and gentlemen; for they may think their own turn will come. But there are two or three sturdy fellows in the hall and the buttery who'll do good service, and hold their tongues when it's done. Just you jog down the stairs and call me up Robert Galbraith--stay, I'll put down five or six o'them, that ye may send up quietly by turns. There's Galbraith, and then we can have the porter, James Bog, and his brother John, who has the key of the ale-cellar, and Brown, too. He's a stout fellow, and canny. He does not heed to ask questions, but does what he's told, only he's o'erfond of the lasses. We'll have all these."
Sir Hugh Herries listened with astonishment to the names which the king mentioned, and at last ventured to say, "Will it not seem strange, your majesty, to take with you, on your expedition, men of such stations as your porter here at Falkland and the keeper of the ale-cellar."
"Hout, tout!" cried the king, "who's to call it strange if I choose to do it? May not a king guide his own menial servitors as he likes? and who's to fash his thoomb with what it pleases us to command? I tell ye, doctor, these are the best men we could have, and I must take heed I do not get a gore from the hart I'm hunting."
"That of course must be cared for, sire, above all things," answered Herries, who feared that James might suspect his loyalty, as being somewhat lukewarm, if he estimated the king's danger less than he did himself; "it were well to have some one well-armed close to you, and none could be better than Ramsay."
"I and Christie will see to that," said James, nodding his head significantly. "Ramsay will no do. He might be scrupulous if he kenned it was all laid out beforehand, though he'll do the deed in hot blood right well and willingly, if he thinks his king's in danger. You see, Sir Hugh, it is not easy to get unlearned, thickheaded, common-witted men to understand that judges and officers of the law are but empowered to put offenders to death by authority committed to them by their sovereign, who, in imparting to others, loses no part of his power and authority himself; but having tried and condemned a criminal in his own mind, according to the right which he derives from God, has every title to say to any of his subjects, 'this man, or that man, is a traitor, or a murderer, or a thief,' as the case may be; 'put him to death;' for doing which the king's mere word is his sufficient warrant. I say it is not easy to get such men as Ramsay to understand this, though he would quarrel with any Ruthven of them all, and cut his throat for our service, if we would but give him leave to proceed according to his false fancies of honour and such like. No, no, man, he must know nought of our purposes till the time comes, as I have said. Such counsels are too grave for him, but still I will take care so to prepare and preoccupy his mind with the knowledge of meditated treasons that he shall be ready to strike home in our defence when need is. The men I have told you of, are those we can best trust; and, perhaps, before the day for the hunting, we may pick out one or two more of the court folk, to accord greater or less knowledge to, as we shall deem expedient."
"But is your majesty sure that the earl is now at Perth?" asked Herries; "it would not do for you to go and find a warm nest and a flown bird."
James chuckled. "See what an unbelieving carle thou art, Hughie," he said; "the last time, I trusted the matter to you and your cronies; and sure enough you found what you say, a warm nest and a flown bird; but I have taken the matter into my own hand now, and made sure of all. The lad returned to his great house, at St. Johnstone, on Wednesday last at evening, and there he is carousing like any prince. All the people are flocking to him from the country round, as if he were king of Perth, and forgetting that we ourselves are here in Falkland. The good folk of the town, too, are all mad about him, and looking for the bridal, as if a king's son were going to wed."
"Is there no risk of the citizens rising?" asked Herries, in a low tone.
James's face instantly fell. "That's right well bethought," he said; "they, burghers of Perth, were aye a turbulent set. We must have men enow in the town to keep them down. What's to be done, think you, doctor?--stay, I've got the pirn. We'll send Davie Murray to his cousin Tullibardine, and bid the baron meet us with all his folk in arms, as if just by accident."
"I fear me, your majesty, that will not pass current," said Herries; "people don't travel by accident with two or three hundred armed men."
"Ay, ay! but you forget there's that affair of Oliphant. The notorious villain has been grinding down the Angus folk like corn between the stones, and he's now in Perth or thereabout. That will be enough for Tullibardine. As for the people about the court, we must have another story ready; but I'se warrant we find one."
"I hope it will match all the rest," said Herries, with a grim smile; "for where one has so many pirns on hand they are apt to get tangled. I've seen many an old wife get clean dumfounded with the power o'them; and I'm thinking that, at spinning a web, neither your majesty nor I can match an auld wife."
"Gae wa', ye disloyal carle!" cried the king, laughing; "to even your born sovereign to an auld wife! Go your ways, man, I'll make a tale that shall puzzle them. You send up the folk I have told you; but Davie Murray, our controller, first; and then the others, one by one. Let them be like buckets in a draw-well, as one goes down, the other comes up--no more clavers, but do as I bid."
Herries retired from the royal presence; but he stopped and thought for a minute or two upon the stairs. He stopped and wondered, too; for though he was ruthless enough, he could not regard the business before him as the king did; and he asked himself, how James could plot the death of two young, hopeful men, in the pleasant spring of life, full of gay expectation and the happy blood of youth, as if he were but laying out the chase of some beast of the field? The secret was, that he could not, with his acute and logical mind, deceive himself with James's sophistries as to the justifiableness of the act; and the king did.
He descended at length, however, and twelve times that night the small door at the top of the stairs opened and shut, as one of those who were to take a part in the perpetration of the contemplated deed went in and came out.
At length the king descended himself, his dark and fatal council over, and lying down to rest, slept as soundly as a sick-nurse.
The prayer and the sermon had been long and furious, for Mr. Patrick Galloway was one of the most vehement men in and out of a pulpit that even the Scottish church ever produced. "The man of many pensions," as he was sometimes called, had once been, or appeared to be, a stern and ardent advocate of church freedom; but he had mightily changed his views since he became chaplain to a king whose love of liberty was but small; and all the tremendous energies of the most persevering and eager of men were now turned to advocate the views of his royal patron. He now "wrestled and pleaded," as he called it, with peculiar fervor in his prayer for the safety of his majesty, and his deliverance from all enemies, and he took for the text of his sermon merely the opening words of one of the epistles, "James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the twelve tribes which are scattered abroad, greeting." On this theme he descanted for a full hour, speaking to his courtly auditory as if he were the mouthpiece of the king, and venturing to exhort all men to passive obedience, in terms and with arguments which James himself, with all his blasphemous uses of scripture, would not have ventured to employ.
Many, nevertheless, listened to his fervid exhortations with that reverence and kindling enthusiasm which rude and impassioned eloquence often produces in the minds of the warm tempered and uncultivated, and amongst those was Sir John Ramsay. Every word that the preacher uttered went straight to his heart, and roused up therein a sort of gloomy longing to be of service to his sovereign, which was but too soon to be gratified.
After the king's dinner he called for Ramsay, who had hardly finished his own, and walked out with him, otherwise unattended. The day was hot, but cloudy, the pace of the king and his favourite slow, and James's manner peculiarly calm and composed. I will not attempt to give any idea of the language in which he expressed himself, for though, as I have elsewhere said, somewhat more than half a Scot myself, his majesty's knowledge of the vernacular was much greater than my own, and to say sooth, many of his expressions were not very decent and not very reverent. I may be permitted, therefore, to translate the dialogue into English and legible terms.
The king's first question went to ascertain what Ramsay thought of Mr. Galloway's sermon. Ramsay expressed his cordial concurrence with every word which had been uttered, and showed by his reply how eagerly he had listened.
"Well, well," said the king, "it was a good sermon, and well conceived, but it was like a wasting of much powerful exhortation, for those who most needed it were not present to hear it."
"I should have thought all men might have profited by it, sire," replied Ramsay, "as a stirrer up of zeal and of loyalty."
"Ay, but they were all zealous and loyal about me," answered James; "and none of those Ruthvens were present except that wild thing Beatrice, who has more folly than guile in her."
"I had hoped, sire, that her brothers were coming to a better sense of duty," answered Ramsay. "Your majesty has shown them great favour lately."
"Policy, Jock--policy!" replied the king. "Both being out of reach together, or only one within arm's length at a time, there was little use of attempting to strike where the blow was sure to miss. But I'll show you what to think of their loyalty and sense of duty. Look you here, John Ramsay, what the man David Drummond writes me--he who was put to death the other day by sentence of the justice court in Perth--see you here," and after groping for nearly a minute in his large breeches pocket, James produced a packet of papers, from which he selected one, and gave it to his companion.
Ramsay read it with looks of astonishment and displeasure, and then returned it to the king, saying, "I wonder, sire, you did not save the villain's life to be a witness against the traitor, his master."
"It would have been perverting justice," said the king, "for he died by a just sentence, although I'm thinking that the earl was not sorry to stop his tongue with a wuddy. His information served me so far, however, that I wrote to a good friend and servant of mine at the English court, and got down this copy of the King of France's letter, which this young earl brought over with him. Look ye now, and devise what he means, for to my mind it seems that he plainly points out to one who has been an enemy to Scotland that this earl who brings the letter is the ready man for helping her in her plans. See here, lad, what he says; 'I have been visited by the noble lord, the Earl of Gowrie, who will lay these at your feet; and as he is exceedingly desirous of serving your majesty,' &c.--Ay, more desirous of serving her than of serving his natural king," continued James; "but maybe he'll be taken in his own trap yet. He would not come to our hunting here, though we invited him by a letter under our own hand; and now we understand he has thoughts of inviting us to his place at Perth----"
"I trust your majesty will not go," cried Ramsay.
"If we do, it shall be well accompanied," replied the king; "with many faithful and loyal people like yourself, Jock, who will see that no harm befals us; and mind you be ready if ever you hear the king's voice crying, to run and help him."
"That I will, sire. Doubt me not," answered Ramsay, "and woe be to the man whom I find attempting to do you wrong."
"I know it, I know it, Jock," answered the king; "and when I've such folk as you about me, I do not fear any evil. But good faith, man, we must get in for the afternoon preaching. I will bide here a little, but you can go your ways."
Ramsay at once took the hint, and retired; but James continued walking to and fro, and, whether by any previous arrangement or not, I cannot say, some five or six gentlemen of his household and court went out separately one after another, held each a few minutes' conversation with the king, and then returned to the palace. To no two of them did the monarch say exactly the same thing, though the subject was still the same; and he seemed well satisfied with the answers of all. Nevertheless, when at last he was joined by Sir Hugh Herries, he said, in a low tone, "I don't like that cold body Inchaffray. He does not speak heartily, doctor. I have told him little, and we'll tell him no more. Has Davie Murray come back yet?"
"No, sire," answered Herries. "He has not had time, though he rode as if the de'il were behind him--which perhaps might well be."
The last words were uttered with a low laugh; and the king turned sharply upon him, asking, "What do you mean, you fause loon?"
"They say the king's anger is the devil," answered Herries, with a bow and a cynical smile. "That's what I mean, sir."
James himself laughed now, replying, "Then ye're not feared for the de'il yoursel. But we must get the preaching over, Herries. It had a fine effect this morning; though I wonder that goose Galloway did not touch upon the sorcery and magic. I had indoctrinated him well with it; and he might have made a grand point of it, especially if he had hinted that there were some people who studied in foreign lands, and came home atheists, full of charms and diabolical arts, but that their end was always evil."
"Perhaps he kept it for another time, sir," answered Herries; "and indeed I think it might be somewhat too strong just now, to point out the ill end that some people may come to, for it might make men believe hereafter that the whole had been prepared beforehand."
"Awa wi' sic clavers," cried James; "who cares what they say hereafter? We'll make it good, man; and it's always well to prepare the way for the history of such an affair. I'll tell you what, Hughie, I have full proof that this Gowrie lad has had dealings with necromancers and conjurers of devils, and that's a food which, when men have been nibbling at, they don't give up easily. So Galloway might have said it, and told the truth, too.[6]But now, Herries, man, you must look well to the people who are to go with us. Have as many as possible, in case of there being a fray. It does not much matter whether they can be depended on for beginning the thing or not, so that you be quite sure they will take part with their king when it is begun."
James paused for a minute or two in thought, and then said, "As for Inchaffray, we must get him away. Your cold, long-thinking folk that always take time to consider before they give an answer, are not for such work as this; and when I put it to him quietly whether he did not think that kings, having the right divine to judge all their subjects, might cause execution to be done by their own power upon those that the arm of the law was too short to reach, he said, it was a knotty point, which required deleeberation, for kings might sometimes make a mistake, though he would not go the length of saying that if they were proved right in the end, they would not be justified. I will send him to Stirling the morn, and he'll have time to deleeberate by the way."
"A small fine upon his estate might do him good," said Herries, "if he shows himself at all refractory."
"It's a fine plan, those fines," said James, to whom the hint was by no means disagreeable. "It punishes these fat, wealthy lords, by taking a part of their ill-gotten gear from them. It leaves them less power of doing mischief, and it strengthens the king to keep them down. Harry the Seventh of England, our good ancestor, knew the value of fines right well, and he was a wise prince. It's funny to read in history how he employed his two sponges, Empson and Dudley, to suck up all the gold that was scattered about the realm; and then, when he wanted some himself, he gave them a squeeze, and the thing was done. It's almost a pity that this young Earl of Gowrie has not taken it into his head, with all these dangerous designs of his, to do some open act which would have enabled us, doucely and quietly, to levy a good fat fine upon him; but he's kept so quiet, that he's left us no way but that we're taking; and that would not have touched his brother Alex, who is the worst of the two, and deserves death as well as any one that I know. But fegs, man, there's the old doctor looking out of the window. I'll warrant you he's waiting for us to come to the preaching. Rin, Cousland, rin!--but mind ye don't have the lassie Beatrice jecking at ye, about your bowit foot."
"She did so this morning," said Herries, as he followed the king; "but I asked her to let me look into her loof, and then told her that I could see, by the art of chiromancy, some great misfortune would happen to her within the month."
"Ye should not have done that, ye gowk," said the king.
"Then let her leave my bowit foot alone," said Herries. "I'll warrant my lady turned very mealy about the haffits, for it scared her, although she could not tell what I meant."
James was going to reply; but two or three gentlemen of the court now approached, probably to tell his majesty that the evening preaching was about to begin; and James re-entered the palace without saying more.
On Monday, the 4th of August, 1600, the Earl of Gowrie, his brother Alexander, good Mr. Rhind, a gentleman of the name of Oliphant, and Mr. William Row, a celebrated presbyterian minister, and a man of a bold, intrepid, and straightforward character, were seated together in the little dining-hall immediately after the evening meal, which was usually taken in those days at nearly the same hour as that at which we sit down to dinner in our own times. The summer's day, and the twilight which succeeds it, I need hardly tell the reader, is much longer in the northern latitude of Perth than in the southern parts of the island; and though supper was already over, it was still broad daylight. There was some very rare old wine upon the table, one of the good things of life to which even the strictest ministers of the Presbyterian kirk had no conscientious objection, and of which I have remarked, they can generally imbibe a quantity without its having the slightest effect upon their intellect, which would very much puzzle the brains of any man habituated to its daily use. Gowrie, however, was accustomed to drink but little. Of a strong frame, in robust health, hardly having known a day's illness in his life, he felt no need of wine; but still his hospitality would, in all probability, have induced him to stay and press the grape upon his guests, had he not had many subjects calling for immediate attention.
"I must now leave you, Mr. Row," he said, "and must take Alex from you, too, for we have a number of orders to give and matters to arrange; but my good friend, Mr. Rhind, will be my locum tenens, and see that you do justice to my cellar. If I find it otherwise at my return, I shall either think that Rhind has played the host badly, or that you find the wine of an ill flavour."
"You are going to Dirleton I think, to-morrow, my lord," said Mr. Row.
"Not before I have heard your sermon, my dear sir," replied Gowrie, with a courteous smile. "We shall not set off till after dinner; then I shall run through Fife, embark upon the Firth of Forth, and be at Dirleton before night."
"And when you come back," said the minister, with a shrewd look, "we shall see a bonny lady in the great house, I'm told."
"I trust so, my dear sir," replied Gowrie, "and one well qualified, both by character and education, to esteem and love such men as Mr. William Row. It is for her reception that I am now so busy in preparations."
"Let us not keep you, my good lord--let us not keep you. We will just take a moderate cup, and then retire."
"Oh, no, I trust to see you before you go," replied the earl, quitting the table. "Now, Alex, let us away and make our arrangements."
Thus saying, the earl left the little dining hall, crossed the larger hall and a part of the court-yard, and took his way towards the great staircase which led to the picture-gallery, putting his arm affectionately through that of his brother, and saying something to him in a low tone.
"What!" exclaimed Alexander Ruthven, starting, and looking in his face; "I did not hear you clearly."
"I only said, Alex," replied Gowrie, "that it is fit you should see what is done and ordered; for if I should die before my marriage, or without children, you will have to complete, as Earl of Gowrie, what I have begun."
"Now, Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the young man, warmly. "What should put such a thing in your head, John?"
"Nothing but the uncertainty of human life," replied his brother, with a grave smile. "I might be drowned crossing the Forth to-morrow. My horse might fall, as poor Craigengelt's did, the other day. A thousand things might happen, to take me from this busy scene. It is true, indeed!" he added, "I have thought of such things much lately; and I suppose it is natural, when the greatest joy of life is before one, to dread those accidents which so often interpose between expectation and fruition. Would that the day were here, and my Julia's hand clasped in mine for ever; but here comes Cranston. I shall leave him behind, to see that all is executed properly. He is a man of taste and judgment, and we can rely on him quite well."
The person who approached was one of the domestics of the Earl of Gowrie, whom he had engaged since his return from Italy; but it must not thence be inferred that he was a man either of inferior birth or education, for many a well born and well instructed person, in those days, accepted the higher offices in the houses of noblemen of the rank and wealth of the Earl of Gowrie. Thomas Cranston, we find, was the brother of Sir John Cranston of Cranston, and from the way in which he is designated in his trial, it would seem that he had taken his degree of Master of Arts.
On his approach, Gowrie addressed him familiarly, and led the way through the picture gallery to the rooms on the side opposite to the gallery-chamber and study. The first he entered was a light and well proportioned room, looking out over the gardens, and catching a pleasant view of the beautiful Tay.
"Remember what I have told you, Cranston, about this room," said Gowrie, casting off the gloomy air which had more or less hung about him all day. "This is to be my lady's bower, where she can be free from intrusion, and spend her quiet moments at her ease."
"I think, my lord, you said the silk hangings of green and white were to be put up here?"
"Oh, no, no," exclaimed Gowrie. "You are no lover, Cranston, I can see. Here, we'll have the colour of the rose; and I pray Heaven, that her life with me may be so coloured, too. The summer flower, Cranston, whose blushing bosom will not rival her dear cheek, must decorate her chamber. No, no; those hangings which we had made here in Perth are for this room, and for the sleeping-room adjoining. My dressing-room is the little room beyond, and these two rooms for my mother. In the other wing, is your abode, Alex, hard by William and Patrick."
"I hope they will be more quiet than their wont," answered the young gentleman, "for, to speak the truth, I am of a more quiet temper than I used to be."
"You will be here but for a short time at once, and you must bear with them, Alex," said his brother; "but you are far enough off from them, too; so that even when you do come from the noisy court, you may find repose enough."
"I shall never go to the court again," said the young gentleman, in a thoughtful tone, walking on with the earl, while Cranston followed, a step or two behind. "During the last fortnight, Gowrie, I have thought more than I ever thought in my life before. I see that I have been wrong, but not, I trust, criminal; and I know that the prayer which petitions against being led into temptation is a very good one for me."
"I will not say I am sorry to hear you so speak," said the young earl; "and though a knowledge of the danger is, with a strong and high mind, almost a certainty of victory, yet I will not try to shake your resolution, for I believe it is a good one--at all events for the present."
"I am sure it is, John," replied his brother; "and so, to return to what I was saying, you see I shall be in Perth till you and the whole household are tired of me, perhaps."
"If you remain till I am tired of you, my dear Alex," answered the earl, kindly grasping his shoulder, "we shall spend our lives together. But I trust that ere long I shall see you married, too; and what I can do to advance your fortune, shall be done."
"I doubt not, Gowrie," replied the younger man, "that what I see of the happiness of yourself and your fair Julia, will make me eager to try the same lot--only where shall I find another such as she is?"
"Oh, easily," answered Gowrie, "though it be a lover speaks, Alex. What I mean is, you will easily find one as well suited to you as she is to me--though I could never in life find another such. But let us finish our task, for our friends below will think us long;" and, in a far more cheerful mood than before, the earl led the way onward, giving various directions to Mr. Cranston, till all that he could recollect at the time was arranged. He then turned to descend the staircase which led to the north-eastern part of the house, at which he had now arrived; but, before he went, he paused to ask--"How is poor Craigengelt, Mr. Cranston? I have had so many people with me to-day, I have not been able to get to see him."
"He is better, my lord," replied the other. "I saw him this morning before dinner, and I shall see him again presently."
"Tell him I will come and visit him before I go to-morrow," said the earl; "and he must come over after me to Dirleton when he is well enough."
Thus saying, the earl went back to the dining-hall; but the party was diminished, for Mr. William Row was gone.
"I must go, too, my lord," said Oliphant, as the earl remarked upon the absence of the minister, "for the truth is, my cousin, the Master, is lying concealed in Perth, and we are to ride away at midnight, as the king's people are seeking him for that affair in Angus."
"A bad affair it was!" replied the earl, gravely. "I should be sorry to say anything harsh of your house, but the king is quite right not to suffer such things."
"Ay, the Master is a born devil when his blood's up," replied Oliphant. "I wont justify him, my lord; but he is yet my cousin, you know, and so I must help him, and now I'll bid your lordship good night, and may God protect you!"
"I trust he will!" replied the earl. "Good night;" and sitting down, he filled a tall Venice glass with wine, and drank it off at a draught, as if he were tired and thirsty.
A few minutes after, Mr. Rhind left him, saying he would go and help to put the books to-rights in the study; and the earl and his brother were once more left alone together. Gowrie, notwithstanding the momentary sadness which had come over him just as Oliphant departed, seemed more cheerful than he had been for many a day. The light and playful wit which had distinguished him in Italy, sparkled forth anew; and he spoke gaily and happily of his own prospects, suffering the bright rays of hope to rest upon the future like sunshine on a hill.
"It will be very sweet, Alex," he said, joyously, "to spend our lives together here, afar from those courtly scenes of which you have now found the hollowness. After all, a court is a dull place, from which even those who rule it must retire to some small domestic corner for anything like happiness. Its wit is all restrained, its merriment measured by line and rule; and its gayest sports, hampered by fictitious proprieties, always put me in mind of a man I once saw at Milan, who danced in iron fetters for the amusement of the spectators. We shall be much happier here. Sometimes we can sail upon the Tay, and perhaps win the speckled salmon out of the blue water. At other times we will away to hunt the deer, or mingle with the good citizens in their sports; and then for idler hours, we shall have books, and music, and pleasant chat, and let the world wag at its will, knowing little of its doings. In a varied round of duties, pleasures, and affections, time may well glide by us quietly, till we find age creeping on us unawares, and telling us, there is another place before us where rest is perfected in joy.--But it is growing dark, Alex. We will have lights for an hour, and then to bed. To-morrow--oh, to-morrow! Then shall I hold my dear one to my heart again."
"My lord," said the earl's page, Walter Crookshanks, entering, "here is Mr. Fleming with a message from the king for Mr. Alexander."
Gowrie looked towards his brother, whose face turned somewhat pale, and then replied, "Give him admission, by all means."
The moment after a well-dressed and graceful young man was ushered into the room, with whom the earl and his brother both shook hands.
"Welcome to Perth, Fleming," said the earl, "pray you sit down. You bear a message from his majesty, I think."
"Not to your lordship," replied Fleming, taking a seat, "but to Mr. Ruthven. He greets you well, sir, and bade me say that he requests your presence at Falkland, to-morrow, at as early an hour as may be, to see the running of a famous stag which his men have marked down this evening. You must not be late, for his majesty will be away sooner than usual."
"How many legs has the stag, Fleming?" asked Alexander Ruthven, with an effort to laugh. "Four, I trust?"
Fleming gazed at him for an instant, apparently in some surprise. "Ah!" he said at length, "I did not understand you. Four, by all means. I heard the order for horses and hounds, myself. We are all in mirth and high glee at Falkland. The king seems to have forgotten all cares and crosses, and like an over-ripe gooseberry, seems ready to burst with sweetness. No, no, there is no danger. If you are there about eight o'clock, you will find the whole court in the saddle. Some of the ladies even, I have heard, are likely to be out to see the run. What shall I say to his majesty?"
Alexander Ruthven looked to his brother, and then replied, "Say that I am his most devoted servant, and always ready to obey his will.--You must not go dry lipped, Fleming, however," he continued, seeing the young gentleman rise, as if to depart. "A cup of this old wine will refresh you--your horse, too, has not had time to feed."
"He will carry me back fasting," answered Fleming; "but I must drink to your good health, and to that of my lord, your brother. The king never bethought himself of sending for you till three hours ago--foul fall his memory! when, after talking with your sister the duchess, he suddenly called out to me, 'Fleming, get on your beast's back, and ride to Perth as if the de'il had ye. Tell the bairn Alex to come and run the muckle hart wi' us the morn, and bid him no lose time by the way. Some one here can lend him a horse, I trow, for his ane beast will be weary!"
As he spoke he filled himself a cup of wine; and the earl asked who was with the king when this was said.
"The duchess and Lady Mar," said Fleming. "They came into the small room, at the top of the great staircase, my lord, where I had ensconced myself to talk awhile with Margaret Hume, if the truth must be told. But now I will wish you both good night, and away on my long ride again."
The earl bade him adieu; and Alexander Ruthven saw him to his horse's back. Then, returning to his brother, he said eagerly, "What shall I do, Gowrie? This invitation is strange."
"Strange as the man who sent it," said Gowrie; "but yet methinks he can intend you no ill; and, if you refuse to go, it will at once put enmity between you and the king. If there is any evil designed, it is clear Fleming has heard nought of it."
"I must go, I fear," said Alexander Ruthven. "I know not why I feel such a dread; for it is just like the king, the whole proceeding--friends with you to-day, at enmity to-morrow, then friends with you again, if you show that you heed his wrath but little. It is possible--nay, it is probable, that he intends no ill; but yet, I know not why, I feel as if I were going to execution. How often have I flown to that court with joy!--and now how different!"
"If such be your feelings, Alex, I would not have you go," replied his brother. "I may perchance be superstitious in this, but I have often thought that, as we see in beasts sympathies with the elements which give them warning of coming changes, teaching them to fly to the open fields when earthquakes are approaching, or look up to the sky and low with joy when the refreshing shower is soon about to descend, so in man's nature there may be sympathies with the finer elements that involve his spiritual nature, giving intimation of coming joy or peril. My own short experience and reading, narrow though it be, have tended to confirm this notion; for I have seldom seen or known a bold spirit seized with an unaccountable repugnance to an act, and do it, without the consequences being disastrous to himself. Now, were you, Alex, of a timid nature, given to unreasonable fears, I should make light of such dreads; but as it is, and as you perhaps are but too bold in character, they have more weight with me."
Alexander Ruthven thought for a moment or two deeply, and then replied, with a sudden start, "No, I will go! I have been scanning my own heart, Gowrie; and I think I can trace the cause of this dread to a consciousness which has come upon me lately, that I have been more faulty, in my thoughts at least, towards the king, than I believed myself to be when I left Falkland. So faulty will I never be again; and as the first fruit of a better spirit I will obey his command and go."
Thus was it settled, then; and all that remained to be determined was, who was to accompany Mr. Ruthven on his expedition.
"Take our cousin Andrew," said the young earl; "he is honest and faithful, and well looked upon by the king. With your own servant and one of mine that will be enough.--Henderson, too, is going to Ruthven to see after the farms; he may as well accompany you part of the way, and bring me back word if you find any cause of apprehension as you go. Andrew is at Glenorchie's house hard by. Send him a message, and he will go, I am sure." The two brothers retired soon after to rest; but by four on the following morning Alexander was on horseback, and in a few minutes, accompanied by his cousin Andrew Ruthven, and followed by Henderson with two other servants, he was on his way to Falkland. The apprehensions which he had experienced the night before seemed now to have returned upon him in full force. He spoke little to any one; and his first words to his cousin, after they had quitted Perth, were, "I do not love this journey, Andrew. I know not why the king has sent for me. It is very strange."
Still, however, he rode on vehemently, as if anxious to know his fate, let it be for weal or woe, and in the end he outrode all his companions, coming in sight of Falkland by seven o'clock.[7]
"The king will not be out for an hour," he said to himself, "and I can learn from Beatrice whether there be any signs of danger."
Riding straight east, between the little town of Falkland and the wood, the young gentleman took his way towards the stables, then called "The Equerry," intending there to put up his horse and enter the palace privately; but just as he was approaching the building, to his surprise and disappointment, he saw the king already mounted, and an immense train of courtiers and huntsmen, going forth nearly two hours earlier than usual. There were some old hawthorns growing near, and dismounting at once, he threw his rein over a branch, and advanced to the side of James's horse. There kneeling on the soft grass he bent his head, saying, "I have come at once to obey your majesty's commands."
His heart beat for the next words; but James, with a smiling face, leaned over the saddle, and threw his arm familiarly round the young man's neck, saying, "That's a good bairn. Well I wot, I wish there were many to obey as readily and speedily, Alex. Noo, man, get ye on your beast and come wi' us, we'll show you fine sport the day."
The young gentleman obeyed at once; the cavalcade took its way to the wood; the tracks of the buck were soon found, and the hounds put upon the scent. Twice, I think, in other works I have described a royal hunt; and here I will refrain, not alone on that account, but because "the hunting of that day" was not of stag or roe.
As the noble beast, which was the pretended object of the morning's chase, forced from his leafy covert, bounded away over the more open ground, and hounds and hunters dashed after him, the royal cavalcade was separated into small parties, and Alexander Ruthven asked eagerly of one of the gentlemen near, where his acquaintance Fleming was that morning.
"He was sent off to Leith at six o'clock, poor lad," said Lord Lindores; "tired as a dog with hard riding last night, he had sore ill will to go; but the king was peremptory."
"Alex Ruthven! Alex, bairn, ride close!" cried James, from a little distance; "what are ye clavering about? Mind the sport--Come hither, man, come hither!"
The young gentleman immediately obeyed, and rode up to the king's side; and throughout the rest of the hunting, whenever he absented himself for a moment he was recalled almost instantly, if he was seen to be conversing with any one belonging to the court. So long as he remained silent and apart, James took no notice, and appeared to be busily engaged in the chase; but no sooner did Alexander open his lips to any other than the king himself, the monarch's voice calling him up sounded in his ears.
The hunt was long, considering the circumstances, for the deer was forced by half-past eight, and was not pulled down till ten. All gathered round the noble beast as he lay upon the ground, and every one made way for the king to perform, as he so frequently did, the last disgusting offices of the chase; but, to the surprise of all, and the consternation of Alexander Ruthven, James remained upon his horse, saying, "Noo, my lords and gentles, we've another ride before us. We're awa to St. Johnstone, to visit our loyal friend, the Earl of Gowrie; but we shall be back before night, so you needna seek your night-caps."
"I fear, your majesty," said Alexander Ruthven, "that you will hardly find my brother at his house. He purposed to go to Dirleton early to-day."
"De'il tak it!" cried the king; "but 'tis no matter. We will ride the faster and catch him, I do not doubt. Here, Alex, bairn, ride by us; and tell us all about your brother's journey. Ye've seen the leddy, I'll dar' to say."
The poor young man, alarmed and confounded, replied, in faltering accents, that he had; and, in answer to James's questions, he described his brother's promised bride as accurately as he could find words to do, in the state of trepidation of his mind at the moment.
The monarch kept him by his side as much as possible; but in the course of their long ride they were naturally separated more than once; and the very first time their conversation was broken off, Alexander Ruthven took the opportunity of asking Sir George Hume, a distant cousin of the affianced husband of his sister, what could be the motive of the king's journey?
"It is understood he is going to Perth," replied the other, "to seize the Master of Oliphant, who has been committing cruel oppression in Angus."
This information was some relief to the young gentleman's mind, for he knew that the culprit mentioned had been in Perth the day before; and riding up to the king's side again, he said, "Perhaps your majesty will allow me to go forward and give notice of your coming. I may so catch my brother before he departs, and enable him to prepare for your reception."
"No, no," replied the king; "my coming must be kept quite quiet till I am there. As to the reception, we shall do well enough. You stay and ride with us."
The young gentleman fell back again, with a gloomy and apprehensive countenance; and James, turning to the Duke of Lennox, who was riding on his other hand, said, in a low tone, "Do you see how scared he looks? What know you of the lad's nature, my lord duke--is he given to such high apprehensions?"
"I only know, your majesty," answered Lennox, "that he is a very honest and discreet young gentleman, as far as my observation goes."
James mused for a moment or two, and then said, in a low tone, gazing with a cunning look in the duke's face, "You cannot guess, man, the errand I am riding for--I am going to get a pose in Perth."
"Indeed, sire," said Lennox, drily; "I am glad to hear it. I hope it may be a large one."
"I dinna ken," replied the king, in the same low tone; "but the bairn Alex came to me just when we were going out for the hunting, and told me that he had got a stranger man locked up at Gowrie Place, whom he had found in Perth with a pitcher full of gold pieces. He besought me to come away directly and take it, and to make haste and come privately, for his brother, the earl, knows nothing of it; and he's feared that the man might cry out."[8]
"I do not like the story at all, sire," answered Lennox, with an exceedingly grave face; "and were I in your majesty's place, I would not go. The thing is quite childlike and improbable. How should Alexander seize such a person and confine him in Gowrie House without his brother knowing it? The house is the earl's; the servants there are his; he is provost of Perth, and high-sheriff of the county. Were it not better, sire, to dispatch two or three of us on to tell the earl, on your part, what his brother has related, and to command him to bring or send the man and his pot of gold before your majesty?"
"No, no," answered James; "I will e'en just go myself; but look well where I go with the bairn Alex, when I am there."
The Duke of Lennox was silent; but in the course of the ride James told the same story, and in the same low tone, to several of the other courtiers. It was heard by every one with looks of suspicion, though it may be very doubtful whether they imputed the falsehood to the king or to Alexander Ruthven.
Even to Sir Hugh Herries his majesty repeated the tale, with a low chuckle at the same time.
Herries shrugged his shoulders, with what perhaps might be termed a look of contempt; but he merely replied, "I wish the tale were more probable."
When the head of the royal cavalcade were within two miles of Perth, but not before, James called Alexander Ruthven to his side, and said, "You may now send one of your folk forward to tell your brother we are coming this way, but stay you here yourself."
"I will send my cousin Andrew, please your majesty," replied Alexander Ruthven.
"Well, call him up, call him up," said the king; and the young man's hope of sending a private message to his brother was disappointed. Gloomy and sad, he rode a step or two behind the king, till they were within less than a mile of the town; but then again James, turning his head, gave him a keen and scrutinizing look, and said, "Now, Alex, bairn, ye may ride on to your brother."
The young man struck his spurs deep into his tired horse's flanks, and dashed past the king with a low bow.