The Earl of Gowrie slept well; nor did he wake till past six o'clock. Even then he felt unwilling to get up, for the last hour had been filled with pleasant dreams; and they set fancy wandering on the same track, even after reason had roused herself to grapple with the tasks of the day. In his sleep he had imagined that he was wandering with Julia through a pleasant garden; he could not tell where. It was not certainly in Perth; it was not at Dirleton; it was not any he had ever seen in Italy or France. The fruits and flowers were of a different kind from those of Europe--larger, brighter in colour, more magnificent. The odour which filled the air was at once sweet and refreshing; and the fountains that rose up here and there, the rivers which glided through green banks at his feet, were so pure, and clear, and bright, that the little stones at the bottom seemed like jewels, as the eye penetrated the waters. There was a murmur, too, of many sweet sounds in the air--birds singing, and happy voices, and the gush of fountains, and the low song of the stream--all blended into an entrancing harmony. There seemed nobody but himself and Julia in that garden; and they sat together upon the velvet turf of a green bank, with the shadow of a feathery tree waving over them, with nothing but joyful sights and pleasant sounds around; and he held her hand in his, and gazed into her dark and lustrous eyes, and they both murmured, "This is like Heaven!"
For some minutes after he woke, he lay and thought of his dream. It is very pleasant, on a bright summer's morning, with the birds singing around, and the soft breath of dawn moving the air and agitating the green branches, and the downy influence of sleep but half withdrawn, to lie and meditate of happy days. Oh, how the images crowd upon us then--how joy with joy weaves a wreath more beautiful than gems or flowers--how we wish that life were indeed a day-dream like that! But Gowrie was not suffered long to indulge. He heard some one moving in the ante-room, and the next moment there was a tap at the door. He rose and opened it, and, somewhat to his surprise, saw his servant, Austin Jute; for he had thought it was his page come to call him.
"What is it, Austin?" he asked; "you seem disturbed."
"Oh no, my lord, not disturbed," replied the good man; "but a short tale's soon told. I don't like your man Christie, my lord--the porter, I mean."
"What has he done that you disapprove of, Austin?" asked the earl, gravely.
"Nothing, my good lord," replied the Englishman. "That is to say, nothing that I can say is wrong; and he is uncommonly civil to me; but you can't always tell the bird by its feathers. A pig's got a long snout, and so has a woodcock, but they're two different creatures. However, to make short of my tale, Master Christie had two visitors in his lodge this morning before five o'clock; and I'm very much mistaken if I have not seen the face of one of them when you sent me to the king at Falkland."
"He has a cousin amongst the royal servants," said the earl; but Austin Jute shook his head with a doubtful look. "I never forget a face," he said; "and very seldom a figure, when I have seen it. Now, if I'm not much mistaken, indeed, the face I saw this morning, when I saw it before, was going into the palace at Falkland with a very different coat underneath it from that which was there to-day. There was no badge then upon the arm either. They say fine feathers make fine birds, it is true; and if so, it has sadly moulted; for it was a finer bird then than now."
The earl mused for a moment or two, and then said, "That is somewhat strange, indeed. It shall be inquired into."
"Ay, things are strange, my lord, till we hear stranger," said Austin Jute. "I have not told you about the other man yet. I'm not likely, I think, my lord, to forget a man I once ran through the body."
"I should suppose not, certainly," replied the earl. "Did you ever confer that honour upon the second personage you saw to-day?"
"He was not first or second, my lord," replied Austin, "for I saw them both at once. Birds of a feather fly together; and these two came up cheek by jowl. However, if I ran a man through the body eight or nine months ago in Paris--and people told me I did--he was here this morning."
"As you say--stranger still!" replied the earl; "but this shall be inquired into directly. How came you to observe them?"
"Why, I was up this morning to see Mr. Alexander off," replied Austin, "and then I went out to walk through the town. As I was coming back, I saw two men before me going along at a quick pace, till they stopped at the gates here. They did not ring the great bell, but knocked upon the railings with the end of a riding whip, and Christie came quietly up and opened the gate. I stood at the corner and watched them, so I had time enough to see what they were like. I did not like to wake your lordship earlier, but as the people are all beginning to stir, I thought it better to do so now."
"You were quite right, Austin," replied the earl. "Now go and send the page to me. But say not a word of what you have seen to any one."
"Mum as a mouse, my lord," answered Austin Jute, and withdrew.
As soon as he was dressed, Gowrie descended into the court-yard, and crossing it to the great gates, which were open, stood under the archway close to the porter's room, looking up and down the street, and giving Christie, who was bustling about within, a fair opportunity of saying anything he might think fit. The man remained silent, however, and the earl at length called him to him.
"Who had you here about five o'clock?" he demanded, as the man came out, bowing low.
"Oo, it was just my cousin, Robbie Brown," replied the porter. "He was on his way to Dundee, and looked in for a minute."
Gowrie fixed his eyes upon him in silence for a moment; and he could see the tell-tale colour mount up into the man's cheek. "Who else had you here?" he demanded, somewhat sternly.
"Weel, noo, to think o' that!" cried the porter, holding up his hands. "If I had not clean forgotten to tell your lordship, that a very worthy gentleman, Ramsay of Newburn, came speering as he gaed by, if I thought your lordship could see him this evening. But I tellt him that it was clean impossible, for I kenned you were to ride to Dirleton."
Gowrie was not deceived. There was falsehood in the man's face. Though what could be the motive and what the object of all these proceedings he could not divine, yet he saw that there was something evidently wrong. Turning upon his heel, he re-entered the house, and, after thinking for a few minutes, he sent for Mr. Cranston, saying, as soon as he appeared, "I know not, Cranston, whether Henderson will have returned before I set out, and as you remain here, I must charge you with a message to him. Tell him to discharge the porter, Robert Christie, at once, paying him whatever may be due to him, and giving till to-morrow to remove from the house, but not to let him be found here afterwards on any pretence."
"I will not fail, my lord," replied Cranston.
"And now send Henry Younger to me, if you can find him, Mr. Cranston," said the earl, who continued to walk up and down the room till the servant he had sent for appeared.
"Younger," he said, as soon as the man entered, "you have been a good deal with Sir George Ramsay's family. Do you know his cousin Newburn?"
"Oh, ay, right well, my lord," replied the servant; "a ne'er do weel mischievous deevil, if ever there was one."
"Then take your horse, and ride to Dundee as fast as you can go," said Gowrie. "See if you can find him out there, and bring me word if he be in the good town, and who he has got with him."
"Am I to say anything to him from your lordship?" demanded the servant.
"No," replied the earl at once. "All I wish to know is if he be there, and who is with him. I have got nothing to say to him; but on those two points I require satisfaction."
The man bowed and retired; and Gowrie proceeded with the ordinary avocations of the day. Nevertheless, his mind was far from calm and at ease. Many of those little ominous circumstances which, like clouds of dust rising before a storm, prognosticate coming evil, though the connexion cannot be traced, had gathered into the last two or three days. The porter's sudden journey to Falkland during his absence, his brother's unexpected summons to the king's presence, the visit at an early and unusual hour of two persons from the court--all raised up doubts in his mind as to the king's intentions; and he asked himself what could James design, and how could he best meet it? Both questions were difficult to be answered, and he revolved them in vain in his mind till the hour arrived for his going, according to promise, to the week-day preaching. In the parish church he found assembled, besides the good citizens of the town, a number of gentlemen of his own name and family, who were parishioners of Mr. William Row, the minister of Forgandenny, who had undertaken to preach that day, the two regular ministers of Perth being absent attending the provincial synod at Stirling. Amongst those whom he knew best were the two sons of his cousin, Alexander Ruthven of Freeland, and, in parting with them at the church door, he invited them to dine with him that day at twelve, as well as Drummond of Pitcairns and the Baron of Findown, who were also present.
The moment after, the senior bailie of the town approached, and informed him that there would be some business before the town council that morning, if his lordship could attend; but Gowrie answered, with a smile, "I fear, bailie, I cannot come, for Mr. Hay is to be with me on county business, and though I love the good town well, I must not give it all my time."
The worthy magistrate received his excuse in good part, and on returning to his house, Gowrie found the gentleman he expected already waiting for him. All who saw him during the morning remarked that he was very grave; but he went through the whole of the matters which were brought before him as sheriff of the county, and they were both many and important, with great accuracy and attention. While Mr. Hay was with him, and about ten o'clock, his factor Henderson returned, and the earl eagerly asked, "What news from Falkland? Who found you with the king?"
Henderson gave but a vague answer; and thinking he had something particular to communicate, Gowrie took him into a neighbouring room, and questioned him there.
What Henderson replied is not known; but on his return to the chamber where he had left Mr. Hay, the earl found Mr. John Moncrief, who came to obtain his signature to some papers.
"I met your lordship's factor," said that gentleman, after the first salutation, "a mile or two south of Perth."
"Was he riding fast or slow?" asked the earl; for the most open and generous natures will become suspicious by experience of man's faithlessness.
"At a foot pace," answered Moncrief.
"Then I know not how he has got back so soon," answered Gowrie. "I sent him with my brother Alex to Falkland, with orders to bring me back word how the king received him, for there was some little displeasure when they parted. Henderson was ordered to go to Ruthven too, and he says he has been to both places. Now, I ride as boldly as any man in the realm, and I could not have done as he has done in the same time."
"He told me he had been three miles above the town," replied Moncrief. "But these are the papers, my good lord, if you will be pleased to read and subscribe them, for the lady cannot have her rights without your signature."
"Then we will not detain your lordship farther," said Mr. Hay, rising. "The rest of the county business can very well be settled at your return."
Gowrie suffered him to depart, for, to say the truth, he was not very fond of him; but Moncrief he asked to remain and dine, adding, "I shall set off for Dirleton immediately after dinner. So you must not expect me to play the good host, Moncrief."
The papers took long to examine, however, for Gowrie would not affix his signature till he had read them through, so that it was half-past twelve before he sat down to table. Just when the second course was being placed upon the board, the earl's cousin, Andrew Ruthven, entered the hall, dusty from his journey; and approaching the earl, he said, in a low tone, "The king and all the court are coming this way, my lord, and I rode on to tell you. The report is, that he is coming to seize the Master of Oliphant."
"But the king is not coming here?" said Gowrie, with a heavy cloud upon his brow. "The Master of Oliphant was at Dupplin this morning."
"I cannot tell, my lord," replied his cousin; "the king's words were very short; all he said being--'Now you may ride on, Andrew.'"
"Well, well, sit down and take some dinner," said the earl, thoughtfully. "Have you ridden fast?"
"I should have ridden faster," answered the other, "but there are such a rout of Murrays in the street, I could hardly make my way through them. I think the whole clan has turned in, with the Master of Tullibardine at their head."
"What do they here in Perth?" demanded the earl. "Did you speak with any of them?"
"Oh, yes," answered his cousin, seating himself at the board. "Some quite down in Water-street, declared that they came to honour the wedding of George Murray, who lives half way through the town; and some said plainly, that they did not know--they came because they were told."
"The Master of Tullibardine," said the earl, gloomily, "comes not to honour the wedding of an inn-keeper. There is something more in this; and we shall hear farther soon."
Andrew Ruthven had hardly time to fill his plate from one of the dishes on the table, and to begin his dinner, when young Alexander Ruthven entered the room in breathless haste, exclaiming--"Brother, the king and all the court are near at hand. I left them, a few minutes ago, not a mile from the town gates."
He fixed his eye eagerly, anxiously, upon his brother's countenance, as if he could have said a world more, but had not time or courage to speak. A shadow, like that of a flying cloud, swept over the earl's face, deep but transitory--a momentary struggle in the heart, showing itself by that grave, stern look--and calmed as soon as felt.
"Would that his majesty had given me notice," he said, "then might I have received him more worthily. Nevertheless, we must prepare at once. Gentlemen, we must go and meet the king. Henderson, take heed that instant preparation be made that the king may dine. Let this room be prepared for his majesty's meal; the great hall for the lords of the court; my study near the gallery chamber for the king to take repose, if he need it after such a day of fatigue. Have everything ready as fast as possible, and spare neither speed nor money to prepare befittingly. Cranston, I beg you run down at once, call the bailies together, tell them the king is coming, and require them to meet me as speedily as possible at the South Inch. Gentlemen all, you had better rise and follow me to receive his majesty on his entrance into Perth."
"By ---- we had better follow you to keep him out," said Hugh Moncrief, with a meaning look, and then added, at a reproving glance from Gowrie's eye, "for he will not go again, I judge, without exacting more than we can well spare."
Gowrie took no public notice of his words, but led the way to the door; and after a brief search for hats, and cloaks, and rapiers, the whole party passed across the court on foot, and through the gates into the street.
Christie, the porter, with a grave face, held the right hand valve of the great iron gates open; but as soon as the earl and his friends had passed through, a sinister smile came upon his lip, and murmuring to himself--"Now, then," he retired into his room. The instant after, Austin Jute ran through the gates and followed the earl, but did not overtake him till he was half way down the street. Then advancing, so as to be in his master's sight, he doffed his hat, saying, "Have you anything to command me, my lord?"
Gowrie put his hand to his head, like one almost bewildered, and then said, "Ay, Austin, ay.--Go on, gentlemen; I follow you. Take horse directly, Austin," he continued, as soon as the others had passed on; "speed to Dirleton. You must find your way as best you can. Tell my mother--tell the dear lady Julia what has happened here. Say that I cannot be with them to-night, but----"
He paused, and thought for an instant, and then added, "No! I will make no promises for to-morrow. God, and God only, knows what may be to-morrow. Do not alarm them, Austin, more than needful. But still," he added, solemnly, "do not buoy them up with hopes that may prove false. Tell them the king comes--tell them I know not why he comes; and let their own judgment speak the rest. But of all things, let my mother be upon her guard, and see to the safety of my young brothers. There's my purse, good fellow, to defray your expenses on the road. Would there were more in it, for your sake. And now away with all speed! Here, take my sword; lay it somewhere in the house. The king shall not say that I wore arms of any kind."
Austin Jute caught the earl's hand and kissed it, as if he felt that it was the last time he should ever see him. Then, without a word of reply, but with a glistening eye, he turned from him, sped back to the Great House, took the horse he usually rode from the stable, and without farther preparation rode away.
In the meantime, Gowrie rejoined his friends and walked on, the party every moment being increased by some accession from amongst the magistrates of the town, or the gentry of the place and neighbourhood. It had thus been swelled to the number of five or six-and-thirty persons when it reached the side of the large fine piece of meadow ground in the Tay, called the South Inch, and in a minute or two after, the royal cavalcade was seen approaching at a slow and stately pace. It was remarked, however, aloud, not by the Earl of Gowrie or any of his friends, but by one of the bailies of the town, that although they had met many of the Murrays in the streets as they went along, not one of them had joined the party going to receive and welcome the king.
"They do not show their loyalty, methinks," said Bailie Roy.
No reply was made aloud, but Hugh Moncrief, a warm-tempered, plain-spoken man, who had been watching Gowrie's countenance attentively, muttered between his teeth, "They may show it by and by with a vengeance, perchance. I know not what they do here; the town is full of them!"
Neither Gowrie nor his brother Alexander made any observation whatever, but waited in grave silence till James's horse was within some fifty yards; and then the young earl advanced with his head uncovered, saying, "Your majesty is welcome to your good and loyal town of St. Johnstone; and I only regret that I did not earlier know of your coming, that a better reception might have been prepared for your royal grace."
"Oh, we come in no state, my good lord," replied the king. "We love to take our friends by surprise; and we know that no man in all the realm will be more willing or better prepared to receive the king than the Earl of Gowrie. Deed, our poor beasties are very tired, so that our train has gone spilling itself on the road like an o'erfilled luggie; but they'll come in by sixes and sevens, no doubt. And now, my lord, by your good leave, we'll go on and repose ourselves."
Gowrie gave a glance over the king's train at this intimation of its numbers being likely to increase before night. It consisted of more than forty persons already; but, without any observation, he merely bowed his head and walked by the side of the monarch's horse, James continuing to speak with him in a gay and jocular tone all the way to the gates of Gowrie House.
As soon as the monarch had entered the court, where some eight or ten of the earl's servants were drawn up, Alexander Ruthven sprang to hold the horse's head, while Gowrie himself assisted the king to dismount. The magistrates of the town were then presented to the monarch in form, having pressed somewhat closely around; but James, treating the worthy bailies with somewhat scanty courtesy, cut their compliments short, and was led by the earl through the great hall into the lesser dining room, which had been hastily prepared for his reception.
"He's no like a king either in face or tongue," said Bailie Graham, in a low tone, as he walked away.
"Ay, but it's a graund thing, the royal presence," said Bailie Roy, aloud, as he retired.
So the town council were divided in opinion.
From the moment of the king's arrival, Gowrie House, or Palace, was one continual scene of confusion for nearly two hours. Every instant some fresh party was arriving, either of the courtiers, who had tarried behind on the road to refresh their weary horses or to procure others, or of parties from the country, consisting generally of the family of Murray of Tullibardine, of which powerful race we are assured that there were three hundred men in arms in the town before two o'clock.[9]Some of the latter, as well as all the former, flocked into the court, and in a quarter of an hour after James had entered the gates, the young earl found his dwelling no longer, in fact, at his own disposal. Though courteous and civil to all, every one saw that he was grave and displeased; nor were his doubts diminished when one of those small accidental circumstances, which so frequently betray deep-laid plans, proved to him and his brother that the monarch's visit proceeded from no sudden caprice or accidental event, but from design, arranged and concerted with others long before.
The assumed cause of the presence of so many of the Murrays in the town of Perth on that day, was the marriage of one of their family in the city; but the person married was known to be merely the innkeeper; and, at the best, the presence of so many noblemen on such an occasion seemed to Gowrie an honour somewhat extraordinary. When, however, a cousin of the Baron of Tullibardine appeared at Gowrie Palace, bringing with him a large and beautiful falcon from the country as a present for the king, the young earl could not doubt that the house of Murray had been made acquainted with the monarch's proposed visit before the person who was to entertain him. He had little opportunity, however, of communicating his suspicions, even to his brother, before the king's dinner was served, for James kept him constantly at his side, talking and jesting in a mood unusually joyous and noisy even for him. He seemed to have forgotten altogether the story of the pot of gold and the bound prisoner, which he had told to some of his courtiers by the way, and though nearly an hour elapsed ere the meal was ready, he quitted not the hall to which he had been first led.
"I grieve your majesty has to wait so long," said Gowrie, at length; "but your gracious visit took me completely by surprise, and as I was about to set out for Dirleton in the afternoon, with most of my people, my poor house is not provided even as well as usual."
"It matters not, my good earl," replied the king; "fasting a wee will do one no harm. Many a godly man fasts for mortification, and doubtless an enforced fast will do as well. But here come your sewers, or I am mistaken; and now we shall soon fall to. Alex, bairn, you shall be our carver while we jest with the earl--though, fegs! my lord, you would not do for a jester, for you seem as melancholy as a pippit hen."
"I am in no way fit for that high office, sire," answered Gowrie, with the colour mounting in his cheek; "and indeed it would require both wit and courage to fill it at your majesty's court."
"How so? how so?" cried James.
"Because I should think," replied the young earl, "that your majesty is more than a match for any jester that ever lived, both in the hardness and the sharpness of your hits."
"Ay, but you can jest too, I see, earl," said James; and he took the solitary seat which had been placed for him at the table.
In the meantime a table had been laid in the great hall for the numerous unexpected guests who had flocked into the Great House that day; and it seems it was customary, on such occasions, for the king's entertainer to see the second course served at the royal table, and then to invite the courtiers round to dine with him in another chamber. Gowrie however, doubtful, anxious, and ill-pleased, neglected the moment at which the invitation should have been given; and the Duke of Lennox, the Earl of Mar, and others, continued grouped around the king's table, while Gowrie himself stood at the lower end, and his brother Alexander, stationed behind the monarch's chair, gave him wine from time to time, or carved the dishes placed before him. Thus passed a considerable part, not only of the first but of the second course also, James talking incessantly to Alexander Ruthven and his brother, in a very gracious manner, but with somewhat coarse and indecent language.
At length, looking up with a sarcastic grin, the monarch said, "I'm thinking, Alex, bairn, that your brother, the earl, fancies these puir lads standing round hae tint their hunger by the road side, that he keeps them sae lang empty."
"I really beg your pardon, my lord duke," said Gowrie, turning to Lennox, "but I was so intent upon seeing his majesty duly served, that I have fallen into the fault for which he justly reproaches me. I trust we shall find a dinner of some kind in the great hall, though the honour I have received, being unexpected, I fear it will be but poorly requited by your entertainment."
Thus saying, he led the way to the other table, and seeing his guests placed, and the best dinner which so short a notice permitted his servants to provide, put before them, he returned to the inner hall, and took his place, as before, at the lower end of the board.
He and his brother, with their own servants, were now with the king alone. A closed door, a blow of a dagger, and James had died and Gowrie lived; but such a thought never crossed his pure, high mind, whatever might be then working in the heart of his royal enemy.
James continued to jest with ribald coarseness, till the second course was removed, and a rich dessert of the finest fruits which could be procured from the splendid gardens of Gowrie Place was placed before him. Then, however, he said, "I feel somewhat weary, Alex, bairn. Show me a room, man, where I can repose myself in quiet for a while, away frae a' this din."
"There is one prepared for your majesty," replied the young gentleman; "permit me to lead the way."
"I'll hae a sup o' wine first," said James; and taking a large goblet or hanap from the hands of Gowrie's brother, he added, addressing the earl, "My lord, you have seen the fashion of entertainments in other countries, and now I will teach you the fashion in this country, seeing you are a Scottish man. You have forgot to drink with me, and to sit with your guests, and to bid us welcome; but we will now drink our own welcome." He then quaffed off the beaker, and proceeded--"I pray you, my lord, go to the other company, drink to them, and bid them welcome in the king's name."
"I obey your majesty's orders," answered the earl, gravely; and without farther comment retired to the great hall, leaving the king alone with his brother.
Taking his seat at the head of the table, Gowrie called for wine, and when his page had filled a cup to the brim he rose, saying, "I am desired by his majesty to drink thisscollto my lord duke and the rest of the company;" and then turning to Lennox and Mar, who were seated next each other on his right hand, he apologized, in more familiar terms, for any neglect which had appeared in his reception of his guests.
"His majesty's coming," he said, "was so sudden and unexpected, that I had no time to learn my part, and prepare to perform it."
The wine went round. The conversation became general; and at this moment Gowrie remarked young John Ramsay caressing a large and beautiful falcon which he held upon his right hand, while an enormously tall large man, sitting beside him, seemed resolved, by the efforts of his immense appetite, to consume all the provisions which remained upon the earl's board.
"You have a beautiful bird there, Ramsay," said the earl, speaking down the table. "Is she as good upon the wing as she looks upon the hand?"
"I really don't know, my lord," replied Ramsay. "Murray of Arknay brought her in upon his fist as a present for the king. So I am holding her," he added, with a laugh, "while meikle John Murray devours to the extent of his ability."
"You'll have to keep her all the day, Ramsay," said the burly man of whom he spoke. "I've had enough of her, carrying her sixteen miles;" and then, turning towards Gowrie, he added, "She's as keen a bird, my lord, and as true as ever was hatched and fledged. I wish you could see her upon wing. I've only flown her thrice to prove her, intending to take her to Falkland; but when I heard yesterday the king was coming here, I scoured her and brought her with me."
"Pity that I should be the last to know of the king's coming," said Gowrie, in a meditative tone; and turning to Mar, he said, "But poor entertainment I've been able to give you, my lord. My good brother-in-law, the duke, will excuse it for love; but I know not how to apologize to so many gentlemen who are nearly strangers to me."
Mar merely bowed his head, for he could not help seeing that their coming had been as unpleasant as unexpected to his host; and, though probably not in the king's secrets, he saw clearly that there was something amiss between the monarch and the house of Ruthven.
"My Lord of Lindores, I beseech you ply the wine," continued Gowrie. "It may not be so good as that which you gave me some five or six months ago, but it will do for want of better."
"Cannot be better," replied Lindores. "This is wine of eighty-three; the best vintage they have had in France for a whole century."
At that moment the king and Alexander Ruthven passed across the lower part of the hall, taking their way towards the great staircase leading to the picture-gallery, the cabinet close by which had been prepared by Gowrie's orders, as the reader has already seen, for the king to repose himself after dinner. James had his arm round Alexander Ruthven's neck, in the over-familiar and caressing manner which he not unfrequently put on towards those who were on the eve of disgrace; and he was, moreover, laughing heartily. There were some sixty persons in the hall at the moment, all talking aloud, and most of them with their faces turned from the door which led into the lesser hall, so that the monarch's passing was noticed by few. The Duke of Lennox, however, caught sight of James's figure, and rose, as if to follow him; but Gowrie said, "His majesty is going to repose for a while in my study up stairs, which has been made ready for him;" and Lennox at once resumed his seat.
Sir Thomas Erskine, however, who was placed considerably farther down the table, had frequently turned his eyes towards the room in which the king had been dining; and now he instantly got up and followed James out of the hall, overtaking him at the foot of the broad staircase, and entering into conversation with him and Alexander Ruthven. They ascended the stairs together, and at the top encountered Christie, the earl's porter, who instantly drew on one side with a low reverence, but at the same time put his hand to his chin in a somewhat significant manner.
Passing then through the gallery without taking any notice of the pictures, the king, without direction from his host's brother, proceeded at once towards the door of the gallery chamber, through which was the only way from that part of the house to Gowrie's study; and the door having been thrown open for him to go through, James turned to Sir Thomas Erskine, saying, "Bide you here for us, man."[10]
Erskine bowed, and stopped at the door; and James, with Alexander Ruthven, passed through. In the large gallery chamber, standing in the recesses of the window, were two or three men, dressed as the ordinary household servants of the king--at least so says tradition. Alexander Ruthven either did not see them, or took no notice of a circumstance which had nothing extraordinary in it; but, advancing a step before the monarch, he opened the door of his brother's cabinet, and James at once passed in.
When the young man had his step upon the threshold to follow, however, he paused for an instant and hesitated, seeing a tall dark man, completely armed, already in possession of the room.
"Come in, Alex, bairn--come in," cried James, in a good-humoured tone.
The young gentleman, not without a feeling of dread, obeyed; and the door was closed.
The court-yard of Gowrie palace--that large court-yard which I have before described, of ninety feet in length by sixty in width--was filled with men and horses from a little after one till a late hour in the afternoon. Gowrie's own attendants had more than they could well manage to do--the domestic servants in waiting upon the king and the courtiers, and his grooms and stable-boys in taking care of the horses. The granaries were thrown open. The servants of the strangers helped themselves to what they needed; and men who had never been seen in the place before, were running over the whole building. In vain Mr. Cranston remonstrated, and endeavoured to preserve a little order; and while he himself was obliged to be absent from the scene of confusion, besought Donald Macduff, the earl's baron bailie of Strathbraan, who had come down with his lord from Trochrie, to stop the people from entering the palace and swilling the wine and ale at their discretion. Christie, the porter, seemed to rejoice in the tumult, giving admission to all who wanted it, to every part of the house, except the two upper floors.
"There'll be nothing done," said Macduff, "unless one of them has his head broke. It's all Christie's fault. He knows that he's to go to-morrow, and cares not what he does. I'll split his weasand in a minute with my whinger, if you'll but say I may, Mr. Cranston."
"No, no--no violence, Macduff," said Mr. Cranston; "especially not to the king's people;" and he turned away into the house again.
Macduff stood sullenly on the steps of the hall, gazing with a bitter heart on the scene before him, till Mr. Alexander Ruthven, of Freeland, came up and spoke to him in a low tone, saying, "This is really too bad, Macduff; some order ought to be taken with these people."
"The king alone can do it, sir," replied the baron bailie; "and I doubt that he chooses to do so, otherwise he would have taken better care at first. I suppose he calls this spoiling the Egyptians."
"That scoundrel Christie has left all the doors open," said Mr. Ruthven.
"Ay, sir, I dare say he knows well what he's about; but I'll go and speak to him;" and walking up to the porter, followed closely by Mr. Ruthven, he said, "Hold your laughing, stupid tongue, and turn all those people out of the house, except the gentlemen. Then lock the doors, and keep them out."
"Deed, I shall do no such thing," answered Christie, turning from him with a dogged look. "I'm no to take my orders from you, I'se warrant, no better than a highland cateran."
Macduff laid his hand upon his dagger, and drew it half out of the sheath; but Mr. Ruthven caught his arm, exclaiming, "For God's sake, Macduff, keep peace! There's no telling where a broil would end if begun in such a scene as this. Come away, man--come away;" and he pulled the highlander by the arm to the other side of the court. "Watch his movements," he continued, when they were at some distance. "I doubt that man, Macduff, and it may be well to mark him."
"Ay, I'll mark him if I get hold of him," replied the other. "He's gone into his den now; and see, there are three or four others gone in after him."
"That's great Jimmy Bog, the king's porter at Falkland," said Mr. Ruthven.
"And that broad-shouldered fellow is Galbraith, one of the door-keepers at Holyrood," said Macduff. "What the de'il does the king do bringing such folk here? If they had been his grooms, or his huntsmen, one could understand it. I saw his cellarer about not long since--I'll tell you what, Mr. Ruthven, I don't like this at all. How it'll end I can't say, but ill I'm thinking. Here's my lord's house is not so much his own as that of every loon about the court."
Mr. Ruthven shrugged his shoulders, and walked away; and Macduff continued to stand upon the steps with his eyes fixed upon the lodge or room of the porter. From the back of that room a long and narrow passage, with windows looking into the court, ran along the western mass of building till it reached a staircase in the corner, by which access might be obtained to all the rooms on the first and second floors. Neither Christie himself, nor those who had followed him into his room, came out again while Macduff remained watching; but he saw the head and shoulders of more than one man pass along the range of windows I have mentioned, and then disappear. All this took place some quarter of an hour before the king left the table; and shortly after that, the baron bailie saw the porter coming from the very opposite side of the building, showing that he must have passed round more than one half of the house.
A minute or two after the voice of the earl was heard saying, "Macduff--Donald, get me the keys of the garden from the porter."
The officer obeyed, and carrying the keys into the hall, he found Gowrie himself standing with the Duke of Lennox, the Earl of Mar, Lord Lindores, and some other gentlemen, while Sir Hugh Herries stood alone at a little distance. Macduff would have given much to speak a few words to his lord; but he did not venture to do so in the presence of such a number of courtiers, and gave the keys of the garden in silence.
"Now, my lord duke, and gentlemen," said Gowrie, "I will lead the way;" and proceeding through a small door which opened directly into the garden, he held it open while the others passed, saying to Cranston, who stood near, "Let us know the moment his majesty comes down. Come, Ramsay of the Hawk, will you not walk with us?"
The young gentleman followed in silence; and the earl rejoining his brother-in-law, the Duke of Lennox, said, in a grave and quiet tone, "It is long since you have been here, Duke. I trust Gowrie House will have you more often for a guest."
"The oftener I am here the more beautiful I think these gardens," replied the duke. "The scene itself is fine; but I think if you were to raise a terrace there to the east, you would catch more of the windings of the Tay, and could extend your view all round the basin through which it flows."
"The town would still shut out much," answered Gowrie, "unless I were to build the terrace as high as the top of the monk's tower. Thence we catch the prospect all round, or very nearly so."
"You are making some alterations I see, my lord," said the Earl of Mar.
"Oh, they are very trifling," answered Gowrie; "merely some devices of which I got the thought in Italy, which I am trying to adapt to this place. It is somewhat difficult, indeed; for that which suits very well with Italian skies and Italian architecture, would be out of place in our northern land, and with that old house frowning over it."
Thus conversing in a quiet and peaceful tone they walked on quite to the other side of the garden, and stood for a moment or two under the tall old tower called the Monk's tower, which rose at the south-eastern corner. While there, the town clock struck three; and Sir Hugh Herries, with a sudden start, exclaimed, "There is three o'clock! We had better go back, my lord. I know the king intended to ride away at three."
Herries' face was somewhat pale when he spoke; but Gowrie did not remark it, and replied, "That clock is ten minutes fast by all the others in the town; but still we can walk back and prepare, for I hope to give his majesty a few miles convoy on his road."
Thus saying, they all turned, and returned towards the house, while Herries, seeming impatient of their slowness, got a step or two in advance. A moment after they saw Mr. Cranston coming hastily from the house towards them; and Gowrie hurried his pace at the sight, seeing that his retainer had something to tell.
"A report has got abroad in the house, my lord," said Cranston, "that the king has mounted his horse and ridden away privately with one or two of the servants."
"That is just like him," exclaimed the Duke of Lennox. "He served us so this morning at Falkland."
"Who told you so, Cranston?" demanded the earl, eagerly.
"It is in every one's mouth, my lord," replied Cranston; "but I believe it came first from Christie."
"Quick, quick! see for my horse, Cranston," cried the earl. "I wished to escort the king part of the way to Falkland."
"I bethought me of that, sir," replied the other; "but your horse I find is in the town."
"In the town!" exclaimed Gowrie. "What does my horse in the town? See for another quickly, Cranston. After such poor entertainment as I have given his majesty, I would not for much show him such an act of neglect as not to ride with him."
"Perhaps he's not gone after all," observed John Ramsay. "Which way did he go? I'll go and see."
"Ay, do, Ramsay," said the Duke of Lennox; "you can do anything with him."
"He went up the broad staircase to the picture gallery and to the rooms to the west," said Cranston.
Still holding the hawk, Ramsay ran on before, appearing not to attend to some words addressed to him in a low tone by Sir Hugh Herries; and mounting the staircase with a light step, he entered the picture gallery, the door of which was open. The sight of so many splendid paintings, of grace, beauty, and colouring, such as he had never seen before, according to his own account, struck the young man with amazement; and, forgetting his errand for a moment, he stood and gazed round with admiration. Then advancing to the western door, which led into the gallery chamber, he tried it with his hand, but found it locked. He then listened a moment for any sounds which might indicate the king's presence in the room beyond--but all was silent; and descending the stairs again to the court-yard, he said, in an indifferent tone, "The king is not there."
"Ramsay--Sir John Ramsay, come hither!" said Herries, calling him to a corner of the court just under the western tower. "I wish to speak with you;" and Ramsay, approaching him, seemed to inquire what he wanted.
In the meantime Gowrie, with the Duke of Lennox, the Earl of Mar, and one or two other gentlemen, passed through the house, and crossed the court to the great gates, near which the porter was standing.
"Come, my man," said Mar, addressing the porter, "what is this story of the king being away? Tell us the truth."
"The truth is, the king is still in the house," replied the porter. "He could not have gone by the back gate without my knowing it, for I have the keys of all the gates."
The man's colour varied very much while he spoke; and Gowrie at once concluded he was telling a falsehood.
"I believe you lie, knave," he said, fixing his eyes sternly upon the man. "His majesty is always the first to mount his horse. But stay, my lord duke, and I will go up and see."
He accordingly turned and left the party, taking his way to the great staircase; and Lennox, looking after him, said, in a low voice, to the Earl of Mar, "There is something strange here, my lord. Know you what it is?"
"Not I," answered Mar, in an indifferent tone, but adding, immediately afterwards, "The king is quite safe, wherever he is. The earl is unarmed, without sword or dagger."
"What may that mean?" said Lennox.
But at that moment some one else came up, and Mar made no answer. In little more than a minute after, Gowrie came down again in haste, saying, "The gallery door is locked. The king cannot be there. Let us to horse and after him. Where can he have gone?"
And passing through the gates into the street, followed by the other noblemen, he turned to Sir Thomas Erskine, who was standing with some of his relations and servants under the windows, and inquired if he knew which way the king had gone.
All was now bustle, and confusion ten times more confused than ever, in the court and round Gowrie Place. Lords and gentlemen were calling loudly for their horses. Grooms and servants were running hither and thither. Horses were prancing, neighing, and kicking; and Bailie Roy, who had lingered about the Great House ever since the king's arrival, was putting everybody to rights, and drawing down many a hearty imprecation upon his head for his pains. Ramsay and Herries remained quietly in the corner of the court; and the two earls, with the Duke of Lennox, Sir Thomas Erskine, Alexander Ruthven of Freeland, and several others, were conversing over the king's strange departure, and considering in what direction they should seek him.
Suddenly a noise was heard above, proceeding from the south-west tower. The long window was east furiously open, and the head and shoulders of the king protruded.
"Help, help!" cried the king. "Help! Murder! Treason! Help! Earl of Mar!"
Lennox, Mar, Lindores, and a number of others instantly rushed through the gates, across the court to the great staircase, and mounted it as fast as they could go; but they found the door of the gallery locked, and could not force it open.
"Up the black turnpike, Ramsay," said Herries, in a low voice. "Up, and save the king!--Here, man--here! Up this stairs to the very top, then through the door to the left."
Without an instant's pause, even to cast away the hawk, Ramsay, with his blood boiling at the idea of danger to the king, darted past Herries up the narrow staircase, three or four steps at a time, till he came to the very top; and there finding a door, without trying whether it was locked or not, he set his stout shoulder against it, and burst it open. He instantly had a scene before him, which I must pause for a moment to describe.
James was at the window still shouting forth for help, and at some little distance behind him, taking no part whatever in that which was going on, appeared a tall, powerful, black looking man in armour, but with his head bare. Kneeling at the king's feet, with his head held tight under James's arm, in the posture of supplication, and with his hands stretched up towards the king's mouth, as if to stop his vociferous cries, was the graceful but powerful form of Alexander Ruthven, who could, if he had pleased, by a small exertion of his strength, have cast the feeble monarch from the window headlong down into the street below. He made no effort to do so, or even to free himself, however; and his sword remained undrawn in the sheath.
Such was the sight presented to John Ramsay when he entered the room in fiery haste; and casting the falcon from his hand, he drew his dagger.
James instantly loosed his hold of the young man at his feet, and exclaimed, with an impatient gesture to Ramsay, "Strike him low--strike him low! He has got on a pyne doublet!"
He gave no order to apprehend an unresisting man. His command was to slay him; and Ramsay, starting forward at the king's words, struck the unhappy youth two blows in the neck and throat, while James, with admirable coolness, put his foot upon the jesses of the falcon, to prevent its flying through the open window.
Ruthven made not an effort to draw his sword, but fell partly back; and James, then seizing him by the neck, dragged him to the head of the narrow stairs, and cast him part of the way down, while Ramsay, rushing to the window, shouted to Sir Thomas Erskine, "Come up, Sir Thomas--come up these stairs to the very head!"
Wounded, but not slain, Alexander Ruthven, stunned and bleeding, regained his feet, and ran down towards the court. Before he reached it, however, he was encountered by Herries, Erskine, and another of the king's bloodhounds, and without inquiry or knowledge of what had taken place, Herries exclaimed, "This is the traitor!" and stabbed him to the heart. Another blow was struck almost at the same time by George Wilson; and the poor lad fell to rise no more, with his sword still undrawn, exclaiming, with his last breath, "Alas! I am not guilty!"