CHAPTER XVIGREYBEARDS AND DIMPLE CHINSOne Sabbath morn there came an unwonted message to me, as I sat lingering and idle in the armoury of Culzean. I had cleaned my own graith and oiled the pistols—which I regularly did on the Sabbath morning whenever I did not go to the kirk at Maybole. Now, this particular day of which I speak, I was idly conning the leaves of a song-book full of trifling, vain, and amatorious lilts and catches—some of them very pleasant, however, and taking to the mind. It ought to have been my psalm-book that I was at, God forgive me; but since ballad-book it was, why, even so will I set it down here.And the message that came was by the mouth of a kind of jackal or lickpot of John Dick's—who, for reasons of his own, hated me, chiefly because I took no share in the foulness of him and his subservient crew. This youth was of so little worth, that in all the transactions of this book he has not once come into the narrative—though as I now remember he was at the tulzie in Edinburgh, and also at the flitting of the sow. On both occasions he was the first to run.The name of him was Colin Millar, an ill-favoured, envious, upsetting knave, compact of various ignorances and incapacities. And there needs no more to be said about him.'There is a man wanting to see you down at Sandy Allison's, the Grieve's,' he said.Then he looked at me with the cast in his eye as crooked as a paddock's hind leg, and says he, 'The tat will be in the fire now, I'm thinking. They tell me that it is the Minister!'I knew very well what the ill-tongued hound meant. So right gladly without a word I set the knuckles of my hand, Sabbath morning though it was, against his ugly face in a way that would leave a mark for a day or two.'Take you that, dog,' I said to him, 'and learn to keep a more ruly member in your insolent head. Think not that you are John Dick, though you carry his dirty slanders. As the wild boar gnashes its tushes, so the little piglings squeak!'And as he went away, lowering and snarling, I had a mind to go after him and give him something more than my knuckles. For the thing he meant was a lie of the devil, lighted at his furnace and spewed out of the reek of his pit.But as I went to the door there came a poor lad from the stable with the same message—that there waited one for me at the house of Sandy Allison, the Grieve.So I knew that the dog Millar had not invented the whole matter. Whereupon I looked carefully to my gear, did a new doublet upon me (because it was the Sabbath day) and girt me with a sash of blue, coft in Edinburgh and never before worn. Then setting my sword in its sheath, I went out through the woods, which were now grown leafless and songless.There was a brisk air of winter, crisp without rawness, in the breeze, and I was glad to be out of doors; for since the matter of the meeting with Gilbert Kennedy, which by ill chance I had seen, both Marjorie and Nell came seldom my way. Which is, perhaps, why I looked so well to my apparelling ere I went to the Grieve's house. For a lad wearies for the speech of women-folk, and if he gets not one kind—why, he will seek another.But now, when I come to think of it, I need not have troubled so to deck myself. For after the corner is turned and the long lane leads straight to the garden of roses, a woman cares not whether a man be clothed in dishclouts or whether he glitters like a bridegroom in cloth of gold.So when I came near to the house there issued forth to meet me Kate Allison, which seemed to me like ancient days come back, and my heart beat in a fashion I never thought to feel again. For a burnt stick is easily lighted, and Kate Allison was, without doubt, both bonny and kind. She was waiting for me at the corner of the barn like one that has an assignation. So when she came near me she put her hands roguishly behind her, and said, 'Launce Kennedy, you are a false, deceitful lad, and no true lover. But think ye not that I care a pin, for I have gotten a braw lad of my own, and no thanks to you. Ye can get the Lady Marjorie to convoy hame next year from the Maybole Fair.'And her speech made me glad, for she dropped me a courtesy and pretended to march off. So I knew full well that if she had not been heart-whole and at ease about all doubtful matters, she would have greeted me very differently. So, as I say, I was glad. Yet presently I liked it not so well as I expected, for though men are often false to their loves, they never understand how their loves can change from loving them. I knew well that Kate would, if not meddled with, immediately return to tell me what had befallen, and why it was that they had sent for me.Which indeed was just what she did.'We have gotten a mighty grave man here with us, who came to our house last night at e'en. We wanted to send word to the castle to Sir Thomas; but the man said that he had had enough of the Kennedies to last him his lifetime, and that he would put up with us, if we could make shift to give him a bed. He is a man of a majestic and noble countenance, and when he had come within, he took a Bible from his wallet, and tairged us tightly on the histories of the wars of the Jews and on points of doctrine.''Ye would be fit for that,' said I to her, laughing, 'for most of our discourse has been upon points of doctrine and practice—though I mind not that we touched upon the wars of the Jews. We had ever wars enough of our own. Was it not so, sweet Kate?'And I would have taken her by the waist, for that is ever the way, as I have just been reading in my song-book, to punish a woman, when like a pretty scold, she slanders her love. So, as the London stage catch hath it, I forgave her for it. Yet for all she would by no means permit me to come near her—which I was mortally sorry for. Because though I wanted her to change, I desired her not to change so mightily as all that.'Na, na,' she said, 'and that's by with. Kate Allison needs no general lovers. Wear you your own lady's favours; I can get them that loe me and none other, to wear mine.'I pursued the subject no further at that time, meaning, however, to return to it. For a man likes not to see the things which have been freely his slipping from him like corn through a wide-meshed riddle. It makes his mind linger after things long past, and he begins to think them sweeter than any favours that ever he had, even when all the garden was most fully his to wander in and cull at his lordly pleasure.Too soon for my liking, therefore, we came to the door of the Grieve's house, which was but a wide kitchen with two smaller rooms off it. I heard a voice uplifted as it seemed in prayer, and I bethought me with shame of my so late mean and earthly thoughts; but I looked at Kate Allison, and she was so pleasant to look upon that I found excuses for myself.Then the prayer being done we went in, and they told the man in the inner room that that same Launcelot Kennedy, for whom he had inquired, was come.So in a moment there came forth from the inner chamber, even as I had expected, Maister Robert Bruce. He wore his long, black cloak, and his fine, cloth coat showed soberly beneath it. His hat was on his head, which he doffed for a moment to Kate Allison and her mother, and then set on again. He bade them excuse him, for that he had much business to talk with me. I followed him out, and as I passed Kate, methought she looked disappointed that I should go thus soon. So, the corners of her mouth being down, and her mother's back turned, I put my hand beneath her chin, and plucked at the loose slip-knot of her bonnet, which was a pretty quipsome thing that haymakers use, but prettier on her than on any of them. Whereat she flashed forth a great, sharp pin and set it spitefully in my arm, which also was a pleasing habit of hers. But all was innocent and friendly enough, and my only excuse for thinking more of daffing with Kate Allison than of listening to the grave converse of Maister Robert Bruce, is that then I was nearing nineteen years of my age—which, as you all do know, is a time when maids' dimples are more moving than the wisdom of the sages.That is all mine excuse, and, as well I wot, but a poor one. Yet when once Maister Bruce had me in the wood, taking me by the arm, the majesty of his countenance and the moving fervour of his voice so worked upon me that in good sooth I thought of naught but what he said.He told me that he was resolved to depart out of this land of Carrick and Kyle, which might have been the Garden of Eden if it were not inhabited by devils. He had come no speed at reconciling the parties at feud, even as I could have told him before he began.'When I had thought,' he said, 'that I had made some way in softening the heart of Gilbert Kennedy, who vaunts himself to be sincerely attached to me—and I do believe it—I said to him that he ought, for the settling of the quarrel, to give in his submission to his liege lord, the Earl of Cassillis. In a moment comes the fire into his eyes, the anger grows black in his heart, and all my good words are undone. I think you Kennedies are all of you possessed with evil spirits, even as it was in the days of the Gadarene out of whom Christ cast many devils.'He paused a moment, and then continued,—'So the name of the devils of Carrick is Legion, for they are very many!'Then, being sorry that he should so speak of those who, after all, were my master's kin and in a manner my own—for all the world knows that a blood feud is a thing acknowledged in the Bible, as one may see when David lay on his deathbed—I asked him how I could serve him, in order that I might stay his abuse of that which he did not understand.'You may wonder,' he went on, 'that I choose to speak in confidence to one that is but an esquire, and, I hear, as ready with his sword in the quarrel as any of them. But at least you are not like the rest, occupied entirely with the safety of your own skin, and unwilling to look the matter in the face.I told him that I did not wonder at all that he was willing to speak to me, for that I could keep my counsel truly and well.'Faith, and I believe that,' he cried, 'if it were only your self-conceit of being able to do it.'But I understood not at all what he meant, for if there is anything that I am conspicuously lacking in, it is this very quality of self-conceit.'Hear ye, then, and mark well my words,' said the Minister of Edinburgh. 'There is a man in this country who is at the root of all the blood and all the slaughter, and who, if he be not curbed, will yet do tenfold more mischief. Your master thinks that he can bribe him to friendship; well, I am no judge of men, if the man is to be bribed at any price beneath the sole power and sway of all this wild country of the west.''It is Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany that you mean,' said I, for I own I was jealous of his good name, enemy though he was.'Gilbert Kennedy is but a hammer in this man's hand. Your good knight here at Culzean is but a spoon for him to sup with. And the only man that sees through him (and that but partially) is your joker-headed Earl, whose keen care for the merks, the duties, and the tacks, makes him somewhat clearer in the eye than the rest of you.''And who is this plotter?' said I.He stopped and looked about him to see that none was listening. Then he laid his lips almost to my ear.He whispered a name which, in this place, I must not write, though afterwards it will be plain enough.'It is simply not possible,' said I; 'the man you mention is but a bonnet laird, as one might say, with a peel-tower and a holding of half-a-dozen crofts. Why, my master could eat him up saltless, without turning out more than half a parish of his fighting men.''Nevertheless,' said Robert Bruce, 'that is the man who stands behind and makes the miracles work, as in Popish days the priests were wont to do behind the altar. Ye are but a set of jigging fools here in Carrick, and the man that pipes to you is the man I've told ye of!'Then I thought over the matter—all that I knew of the man.'In truth,' said I, 'I am none so sure that you may not be right.'Robert Bruce smiled as one that waxes aweary of a babe's prattle.'For,' said I, 'I mind that I heard him endeavour to win one by promises to the side of Bargany—''Pshaw,' said the Minister, 'he would as readily try to win Bargany to the Earl's side, if it suited him to murder them both together. It is his plan to make them fight each other till there are none left—to cut off the heads of the taller poppies as in the ancient tale of Rome. I tell you this man has no side but his own, no desire but his own profit, no end but to make himself supreme in Carrick.''And what can I, that am but a squire and a youth, do in the matter?' said I.'You are on the spot, Launcelot,' said the Minister, kindly. 'I am in Edinburgh, and if things march as evilly as they have been doing of late, it is likely I shall be even further afield than Edinburgh. But you can watch—you can judge whom it boots to warn. You can put in a word—''I shall put in a sword,' said I, stamping my foot; 'put it in deep—to think of such deceit and guile in a mere vassal and understrapper of my lord's.''Launcelot,' said the Minister of Edinburgh, 'you begin to make me sorry I trusted you. I should have spoken to a graver man.''Nay, sir,' I said, 'you mistake me. I but mean that if it came to the bitter bite of iron, the time for words might go by.''Ay,' he replied thoughtfully, 'there is some sense in that, but give not up the judicious words too early.'So we betook ourselves gravely and staidly out of the wood, and at bidding him farewell I received his benediction, which he gave me with his right hand stretched out. And though I am tall and stand as erect as any man, yet the Minister of Edinburgh overtowered me by half a foot. But I minded that not in him.So I went to the castle armoury to bethink me, for after what I had heard maids and bonnet strings were not to be more in my thought that day.CHAPTER XVIITHE CORBIES AT THE EAGLE'S NESTOne snowy day, I mind it was a Thursday according to the day of the week, I had ridden to Girvan by the shore road. I journeyed unmolested save that one sent a shot after me as I passed the tower of Girvanmains. But this not so much, I think, with intent to do me an injury, as because they saw my Cassillis colours, and could not let them pass unchallenged by a yett of the Bargany folk.But upon my return I got one of the greatest surprises of my life, for as I rode gladly into the courtyard of Culzean, lo! there was my lord out on the steps, with the noble courtesy and distinction which none could assume so well as he, being indeed natural to him, bidding farewell to a pair of guests whom I never looked to see in the courtyard of Culzean, save as it might be coming in decently, heels first, for the purposes of Christian burial.The two strangers were John Mure of Auchendrayne and the young Laird, his son. The old man was dressed as I first saw him—in plain, fine cloth of blue without decoration. He wore no arms or any armour that was visible—though by the square setting of his body as he came down the steps I judged that he wore a stand of chain mail underneath. His son James, a cruel, loutish, hot-headed, but not wholly ill-looking young man, was clad in the gayest fashion. He wore the wide, falling lace collar which Prince Henry had brought in from France, and a pointed doublet and wide breeches of the newest English mode.It was John Mure who was speaking, for his son was but a lout, and had little to say all the days of him. He waved his hand to the steps, by the door of Culzean, whereon there stood Marjorie Kennedy, with her arm on Nell's shoulder, both being pale as death, and seeming more dowie and sad than I had ever seen them look before.'It is to be the burying of strife,' cried Auchendrayne; 'in this loving cup I drink it. The day of our love is at the dawning, and the auguries of the time to come are of the happiest. To our next and sweeter merrymaking!'And Sir Thomas, with his face one beaming smile of pleasure, bade him a loving farewell, and told him to haste back, for that cousins thus joined in affection could not be too often together.And all the while I sat Dom Nicholas as one that is sunk fathoms deep in blank astonishment.As Auchendrayne rode through the gateway, he waved his hand to me, and turning to Culzean, where he stood looking after them, he cried in the hearing of them all,—'You have there the handsomest and the boldest squire in all the south country, Culzean. This is the bruit that I hear of this young man everywhere I go.'And so, still smiling and bowing, he rode away with his son half a length of his horse behind him.But I gave him no greeting, neither yea nor nay—but regarded him with a fixed countenance. For my heart was like stone within me, because of the sorrow that I saw coming on the house and could noways prevent.Now the bitterness of this winter did not come till some time after the New Year. It was about the midst of January when the frost bit most keenly, and the snow began to fall most deeply. The Culzean lads, James, Alexander and little David (who was my favourite), caused the court and out-buildings to ring with happiness. Joy and peace seemed indeed for a little to have come back to Culzean. This was the first snow since David had donned the trunks, and laid by the bairn's kilts—which are indeed mortally cold wear in the winter season when it comes to rolling in the snow.David, as I say, was my favourite, and continually in my loneliness a comfort to me, though I have not hitherto often mentioned him, seeing that the young lads of Culzean come not into my tale greatly, saving at this time. Though, in the coming day, they may into the tales others shall tell, when we that now prank it so gaily are no better than the broken shards of a drained pottle-pot. But little Davie was a merry lad, and I am glad that there is occasion for me to name him in this history.Davie was now manfully equipped in doublet and trunk hosen of duffle grey homespun, so thick that his brothers feigned that with a little trouble and propping they stood up very well by themselves, when their daily tenant had untrussed him and gone to bed.And ever the snow came down. It lay deep on all the face of the country, but more especially it had swirled into the courtyard of Culzean, so that the very steps of the door were sleeked, and great wreaths lay every way about the court. The lads made revel in it, borrowing shovels from the stables and throwing up the snow on either side, so as to make narrow passages between the different doors of the castle and the offices about.I cannot set down, because that there is press of matters more serious yet to be related, a tithe of the merry pranks the rogues wrought in their madness. They revelled in the smother of the snow like whelps that are turned loose. Yet because there is none too much of merriment in this chronicle, I shall make shift to tell somewhat of their quipsome rascaldom.It chanced one morning that Alexander, who was of a mirthful mind, stood by a little door which led into the house wherein our peats and turfs were kept for the fires, so that it might not be necessary to bring a supply each day from the peatstacks on the hill where the greater store was.Whether Sandy's head ached from having eaten too many cakes at the time of the New Year, I know not, but suddenly it came into his mind that it might be a desirable thing and a cooling, to stick his bullet head into a mighty snowdrift which lay in front of the peat-house door. So accordingly, for no particular reason, he bent himself into an arch and thrust his head neck-deep into the snow.At this moment came his elder brother, James Kennedy, upon the scene, and his mood was also merry.'Bless the rascal,' quoth he, 'whither hath his tidy lump of a top-knot betaken itself to?'So without loss of a moment the rogue made him a large ball of snow, well compacted, and caused it to burst upon the stretched trusses of Sandy's breeches, with a noise like the breaking of an egg upon a wall.Sandy snatched his head from the snow swift as a blade that bends itself to the straight, and stood erect. There was no one in sight save little Davie, who danced at a distance and laughed innocently at the jest. For James, the doer of it, had instantly dropped into a deep snow passage. Whereat Sandy, cured as to his head, but villainously stung in the breech, turned him about in fierce anger, seeking for someone to truncheon. The lad Davie's laugh annoyed him, and Sandy, being an adept at the palm play, sent a snowball at his young brother, which took him smartly upon the cheek.Instantly Davie, poor callant, set up a cry of pain, which brought his sister Nell upon the scene with all the furies in the tangle of her hair.'Ye muckle, good-for-nothing calves!' she cried, addressing both her unseen brothers, whom she well knew to be lying hidden somewhere among the snow passages of the courtyard, 'I will bring Launce Kennedy to you with a knotty stick, and that by my father's orders—clodding at a bairn that gate, and garring him greet. Ye think I canna see ye, but if ye dinna come oot decently, I will come and bring ye. Ye may think black shame o' yoursel's!'And this I do not doubt that James and Sandy did. For to be flyted upon by a lass, lying prone the while upon one's stomach in a snow bank, does not make for self-respect. So both the lads began to crawl away as best they might from Nell's dangerous neighbourhood. It jumped greatly with my humour to watch them from the upper window of the armoury which looked abroad over the court. All unwitting they approached the one to the other with their heads down, and at the corner, each running with full speed upon his hands and knees, they knocked their skulls together soundly, with a well-resounding crack which pleased me. Instantly they clinched and fought like wild cats, biting and fisting in the snow—till their father, attracted from the hall by the noise, came down and laid upon them both right soundly, with the great whip wherewith the dogs were beaten when they were trained for hunting.All this was excellent sport to me, but the best was yet to come. In a little thereafter I saw Nell, who was a merry lass when there was nothing upon her mind, come quietly out of the side door that led to the kitchen places, with David in her hand. She set him within a small flanking tower, which in old days had been loop-holed for arrows. Then she locked the door upon him, taking the key with her. Before she went she handed the boy two or three snowballs made from the wet, slushy snow, where the sunshine had caused some drops to melt off the roof and fall from the eaves.Thus she went to the corner, I watching with joy the while from the window of the armoury.'Jamie, Sandy,' she cried, 'come hither, lads. There's something here for your private ear!'At first the boys would not move, still smarting and sulky from their father's training-whip. But in a little they came, and Nell enticed them with the repeated promise of 'something for their private ear' (the artful minx!), till she had them exactly opposite the little window where David was posted with his weapons of offence.Suddenly from the arrow-slot there came a discharge of artillery. The providence that helps the weak put pith and fusion into little David's arm. As though it had been the smooth stone of the brook that sped whizzing to the brazen front of Goliath, the first moist shot of David's ordnance plumped with a splash into the ear of Sandy. In an instant I lay upon the floor in the laughter which comes only from beholding silly things. For there below me were James and Sandy Kennedy each dancing upon the point of their shoon, and with their little fingers digging in their several ears to excavate from thence the well-compacted slush wherewith little David had taken his fitting revenge.Nor was the occupation made easier for them by the vexatious commentaries of their sister Nell, who repeated over and over again to them, between her bursts of laughter, 'Did I not tell you that if ye came to the corner of the tower ye would get something for your private ear? This will learn you to let wee Davie alane!'CHAPTER XVIIIBAIRNS' PLAYThere remains yet one other of their pranks to be told, and that only because it is knit into the story, and so must be unravelled along with it.The pair of elders, after this defeat at the hands of Nell and little David, took counsel together, and might sooner have hit upon something to their mind, but that James, as was usual with him, stood in an attitude of cogitation, having his mouth very wide open. Whereat Sandy, whose wits were brighter, could not, even for the sake of the alliance between them, refrain from dropping therein a snowball which he had ready in his hand for any purpose that might arise. This he did with the same neatness and adroitness with which he would have dropped a ball of worset yarn, when the caps were on the green for the game royal of Bonnet-Ba'.It took some time and a mighty deal of struggling on the ground before this treachery between friends could be arranged. Also much thrusting of snow down the backs of doublets and holding it there till it melted—together with other still more unseemly and uncomfortable proceedings.Then the reconciled allies entered the castle together, promising peace, and fell into talk with young Davie, who stood within the great door in the inviolate safety of the hall.'Do you want a merk?' said Sandy, tempting him with the sight of one, which at that day was great wealth. 'It will buy store of peaches, and pears, and baked apples at Baillie Underwood's in the High Street, preserved cherries also, and marmalit of plums.'Then said Davie, 'A merk I want, indeed, as does everyone, but you are not the fellow to give it me. Therefore quit your pother, for I know that you would only make friends to get me apart, and so work mischief upon me.'A wise boy David.'As I live I lie not,' said Sandy, taking a great oath. 'I will give you the merk, if ye go down after dark to the barn, and passing through the great door to the lesser door at the back, shut and bolt it with its bar of oak, and so return the way ye went. If ye do this, sure as death, I lie not, I will give you the merk.'Little David, who had ofttimes been deceived of his brothers, considered upon the offer a while, and at last he said to Sandy,—'As sure as death ye might lie, though twice ye have said it; but give the merk into the keeping of Launce Kennedy, that will not tell lies, at least not for such freits, and then I will take your dare, and go shut the further door of the barn.'They came up therefore to me to the armoury, James, Sandy and David all together; and as soon as I heard them coming I went from the window and sat by the fire, that they might not suspect I had observed aught of their matters. Then, when they revealed the plot to me, I bade Sandy be careful what he did, for it was growing dark, and I misdoubted that they meant to fright the child. So I feared them with the threat of their father, and as little David lingered while his brothers went lumbering and shouting down the armoury stair, I put into his hand a short blackthorn cudgel which the young Sheriff of Galloway had brought with him over from Ireland.'If ye see anything more than common, hit it as hard as ye can with that,' I bade him.And so little David passed out. I could not see him far across the yard because of the fall of the gloaming, but on his return, all a-drip of sweat and in a quivering tremble of agony, he told me what had befallen him.'It was bitter cold,' he said, 'and I will not say that I was not feared, for I was. Yet, so long as the door stood ajar, there came a ray of light through it, and my heart was cheered. But presently it was shut to, and I had all the way to go alone.'But I heard the cows in the byre rattling at their hemps through the rings, and as I kenned, pulling at the meadow hay in their stalls. And that at least was some company. So I went on and the frosty snow squeaked under my feet. I came to the great door of the barn. It stood open, vast and terrible as the mouth of a giant's cave. But I thought of the marmalit of plums, and in I went with my heart gulp—gulping high in my throat.'I nodded at the little fellow, for many a time had I felt the same, and said nothing about it—when I was much younger, of course.'So,' said he, 'I went through the barn in which was such hay and straw, till I came to the midst of it. Here I stopped to listen, for I could hear a noise, indeed many noises. However, it was only the black rattons firsling among the straw. I felt a thousand miles away from home, an orphan, and very lonely—nor did thinking on marmalit of plums now bring comfort—at least, none to speak of.'But, nevertheless, because I thought of the taunting and japing of James and Sandy, I took my way to the further door that looketh upon the old orchard. The black corn-stacks shut out many of the stars, but those that were left tingled and shone cold. I thought I had no friend nearer than one of these. I was much afraid.'Yet nevertheless I shut the back door and barred it—barred it good and strong with both bolts, and set a corn-measure at the back for luck. This being done, I turned and took but one step towards the great door, through which I could see the snow shining like a mist. Then my heart stopped, and I tried to cry out very loud, but, alas! I could not cry out at all.'For there was Something in the doorway. I could see it against the snow. Something that crawled on the ground with dull, horrid eyes, set wide apart, and that turned a shapeless, horned head slowly from side to side, moaning and yammering the while.'I thought I should die. Then I feared that I should not die before the thing took me, for it slowly invaded the barn till it filled all the doorway. By this I knew that I should indeed be devoured. Nevertheless, I minded what it was you said before I went. So I thought that, having a stout stick in my hand, I might as well die after having smitten a good stroke as not—''Bravo, young David!' cried I; 'that is the right spirit of battle.''So I took the blackthorn in both hands,' he went on, 'and swung it about my head as you showed me in the hagging down of trees. With that I struck the horrible thing fairly between the eyes. Then leaping over it I ran, how I know not, for the house door—where I laughed and wept time about till Nell brought me here that you might bid me stop. Now I want the merk.'So I gave him the merk, took down the dog-whip from the nail where it hung, and went out to look for Jamie and Sandy—for well I knew that this had been one of their tricks to frighten the boy, and I was resolved that they should take a thrashing, either from me or, what they would less desire, from their father—who, though a kind enough man till he began to lay on, was apt to be carried away with the exercise, and to forget bowels of mercy.But when I got upon the snow by the door, Sandy came running to me, fairly crying out with terror. He had the hide of a muckle bullock, which had been killed that day, trailing from his waist. His face, in the light that fell from the lamp in the hall, was a sight to be seen. There was a lump on his brow, between the eyes, as large (to a nearness) as a hen's egg. All his face was a-lapper with blood, so that for the moment I thought that the lad had really been killed. But when I pulled him up to the armoury, and got him washed, I found that the blood was only that of the bullock, whose hide he had wrapped about him in order that he might crawl on the ground and fright his brother David.And I had there and then taken him to task with the dog-whip (for indeed he might have bereft the child of reason), but the sight of his own wordless terror smote upon me, so that I desisted—for that time at least.For a while Sandy could not speak by reason of the fear which blanched his face, and caused him to hold by my coat even when I went across the room. At last however he found tongue.'There is a man,' he stammered, 'a man with a drawn sword, standing at the barn end in a grey cloak, and a wild beast crouching beside him.''Barley-break, flim-flam,' said I, for I believed not a word of it, 'your head is muzzy with your carrying the bullock's head and horns, and serve you right had David given you a warble on it twice as big.''No,' gasped Sandy, 'it is not fantasy. I saw the man clearly. He stood against the sky in a grey cloak, and the beast crouched and held a lanthorn by him. Oh, Launce, I fear I have seen the Black Man, and that I shall die.''Seen your granny's hippen-clouts!' said I, roughly, for I was angry at his senselessness. 'Lay raw beef to your beauty-spot, my man, sleep here with me, and I will forgive you the licking with the dog-whip.'So by little and little I got Sandy soothed down till he went to sleep on my bed, moaning and tossing the while. Then I set me down to think, alone, on the window-sill above the courtyard, for I had long since handed David over to the care of Nell. Sometimes for convenience, I slept in the armoury, for Sir Thomas had trusted me with everything since I had proved myself in the wars.I saw well that evil was somehow intended against the house of Culzean, and that something terrible walked in darkness. I resolved that I should find out what it was or die. Yet I liked not stealthy adventure so much as plain cut and thrust, and wished that I had had Robert Harburgh with me. But I knew that, though brave as a lion, he somewhat lacked discretion, and so might spoil all. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to go out alone.CHAPTER XIXFIGHTING THE BEASTSHaving shut and locked the armoury door behind me, I stood a great while very still on the steps in the black shadow; for nothing could I see, though I looked till my eyes ached. So I set out with my sword bare in my hand, and my left hand hafting an easily-drawn dagger. I declare if I had only known for certain that the thing which troubled the house was naught but flesh and blood, I had not cared the tickling of a Flemish poulet. For I was growing to rejoice in adventure, believing that my own luck was to win through in safety whatever might befall to others. Indeed I never loved a leg-lagging, grease-collecting life, like that of a burgher or a cellarer. But rather to strip and lay on till the arm dirls with striking—that is, in a just cause, of course. Although sometimes, if your chief so command, one must strike without inquiring with too queasy a conscience, like a mere yea-forsoothing knave, what may be the cause for which ye are set to drive the steel. For it is soldierly to strike first and inquire the cause after—that is, if the man live.But I ride the wild mare whenever I lay the reins on the neck of my goose-quill. And since I love to keep the pages even and the lines straight, anything that will serve to fill up the tale of my day's doing goes down. But pleasant writing maketh not always good or full-mattered reading.I stood therefore awhile outside the armoury door and saw only the drifted snow and the line of white roofs against a dark sky. So, having little hope of discovery by waiting like a dancer outside a ring, I stepped lightly down, being shod in soft double hosen without leathern shoon, so that my feet made no noise on the frosty snow. About the house I stole, gliding from shelter to shelter, till I came to the edge of the cliff, where I could hear, but not see, the breaker waves crisping and clapping upon the shore. At such a time the sea is black. But so much blacker was the night that I saw it not even when I looked straight down upon it.Turning, I made the circuit of the castle, but still found nothing. Then I minded me how it was by the barn that Sandy had seen the vision which had affrighted him. So I set teeth and gripped blade tighter, and took my way to the barn door. It stood wide and vacant, gaping at me like an open sepulchre.I will admit that it required all my courage boldly to go in, for it is hard to enter that which is the blackness of darkness to you, with the knowledge that all the while you stand the fairest of targets in the doorway. But because, as my father had told me, it is ever better to pursue than to flee, I stepped within with elbow crooked for the thrust, and dagger arm cleared of the cloak.But it was as silent in the barn as elsewhere. I did not even hear the rats of which my little David had spoken. I began to think that I had been as needlessly and as childlessly alarmed as he. Then all at once and quite clearly I heard voices speaking together at the outer corner of the granary.So I went near to a convenient wicket that I might listen, and my very heart and life chilled and thickened, because that the voices were those of our Marjorie and someone else who spoke low and sober—not quick and high like Gilbert Kennedy.Then was my heart full of disgust that I should find her whom I had loved and worshipped engaging in another midnight tryst, and one that might be no better than a paltry intrigue.So angered was I that I stole to the door, meaning to break out upon them in violent speech, caring little in mine anger what should happen. But as I came to the edge of the hard-beaten threshing-floor, Marjorie Kennedy came to the door swiftly. Turning in front of the barn, and standing with the shawl thrown back from her head, she spoke to the man she had left, whom as yet I saw not.'Remember,' she said, 'I promise no more than the bare fact. I tell you I choose the grave before a bride-bed, the worm before such a husband!'But the man to whom she spoke uttered no word, though he had come nearer to where in the dusk of the doorway I stood with my sword bare in my hand. I could see him plainly now—all but his face, for the tide of darkness was on the ebb. He was the tall, cloaked man whom we knew as the Grey Man.Behind him, at the angle of the wall, crouched a black mass which yet was human—because, even as I looked, it took something from under a coat, and rose erect beside the Grey Man. As Marjorie vanished these two figures moved towards my hiding-place in the barn. I had no time to do more than glide within, pull a sheaf or two from the mow, and thrust myself, like a sword into its scabbard, within the hole I had made amid the piled grain.Even as I looked, their dark figures filled up the square of greyness which the open barn door made against the snow. I saw them enter, feeling with their hands, as though to grasp something, yet not making any light to guide them in finding it.Then indeed I was disquieted, and my very bones became as water within me. For if there is anything trying to the flesh of mortal man, it is to lie still and be groped for in the dark by unknown and horrible enemies. I had a nightmare sense of powerlessness to move, of impotence in the face of peril. I knew that when the blind groping inhuman horror took me by the throat, I should not be able even to cry out. It was like a dream of fever made real.A moment after I heard a man's voice speak in a fierce whisper.'Ah, here it is! Give me your hand and put strength to it.'Then in a moment, like the breaking of a dam, the fear quite went from me. They were but common-place robbers after all, and I a craven and a coward to lie still while my master's goods were being stolen before my eyes.I leaped out upon them without waiting to think, for I was not feared of a dozen such.'Hold!' I cried. 'Stand for your lives, gutter-thieves, or I will run you through!'I stood in the doorway with my sword and dagger in hand, and as soon as I felt one come against the point of my blade, I let him have it with all my might, for it was not a time for half-measures. Then, though I heard the answering cry of wounding, there was no time for further action, for something came at me with a rush like a wild beast of the wood, and the snarl of the springing heather cat. Now there are many things that a lad of eighteen or nineteen may do—things of worth and daring—but he cannot stand against the weight of a strong and well-grown man when he leaps upon him. Therefore I cannot count it to my shame that now I was overcome and overborne. Once and again was I smitten, till I felt the iron, as it had been fire, strike me here and there. And though I felt no pain, there was something warm, which I divined to be my own blood, running down. Then I knew no more.When I awoke I was in the Grieve's house, lying on a bed. Sir Thomas Kennedy, my master, and the Earl himself were bending over me. They had unclasped my hand, and now stood back in wonderment at what they found gripped in it.'It is the key of the treasure chest of Kelwood—the key with my father, the King of Carrick's seal graven upon it! Where could the lad have gotten it?'Yet of a certainty they had taken it out of my tightly-clenched hand, which had been fixed upon something ever since they found me on the barn threshing-floor, where I lay senseless in a pool of my own blood.
CHAPTER XVI
GREYBEARDS AND DIMPLE CHINS
One Sabbath morn there came an unwonted message to me, as I sat lingering and idle in the armoury of Culzean. I had cleaned my own graith and oiled the pistols—which I regularly did on the Sabbath morning whenever I did not go to the kirk at Maybole. Now, this particular day of which I speak, I was idly conning the leaves of a song-book full of trifling, vain, and amatorious lilts and catches—some of them very pleasant, however, and taking to the mind. It ought to have been my psalm-book that I was at, God forgive me; but since ballad-book it was, why, even so will I set it down here.
And the message that came was by the mouth of a kind of jackal or lickpot of John Dick's—who, for reasons of his own, hated me, chiefly because I took no share in the foulness of him and his subservient crew. This youth was of so little worth, that in all the transactions of this book he has not once come into the narrative—though as I now remember he was at the tulzie in Edinburgh, and also at the flitting of the sow. On both occasions he was the first to run.
The name of him was Colin Millar, an ill-favoured, envious, upsetting knave, compact of various ignorances and incapacities. And there needs no more to be said about him.
'There is a man wanting to see you down at Sandy Allison's, the Grieve's,' he said.
Then he looked at me with the cast in his eye as crooked as a paddock's hind leg, and says he, 'The tat will be in the fire now, I'm thinking. They tell me that it is the Minister!'
I knew very well what the ill-tongued hound meant. So right gladly without a word I set the knuckles of my hand, Sabbath morning though it was, against his ugly face in a way that would leave a mark for a day or two.
'Take you that, dog,' I said to him, 'and learn to keep a more ruly member in your insolent head. Think not that you are John Dick, though you carry his dirty slanders. As the wild boar gnashes its tushes, so the little piglings squeak!'
And as he went away, lowering and snarling, I had a mind to go after him and give him something more than my knuckles. For the thing he meant was a lie of the devil, lighted at his furnace and spewed out of the reek of his pit.
But as I went to the door there came a poor lad from the stable with the same message—that there waited one for me at the house of Sandy Allison, the Grieve.
So I knew that the dog Millar had not invented the whole matter. Whereupon I looked carefully to my gear, did a new doublet upon me (because it was the Sabbath day) and girt me with a sash of blue, coft in Edinburgh and never before worn. Then setting my sword in its sheath, I went out through the woods, which were now grown leafless and songless.
There was a brisk air of winter, crisp without rawness, in the breeze, and I was glad to be out of doors; for since the matter of the meeting with Gilbert Kennedy, which by ill chance I had seen, both Marjorie and Nell came seldom my way. Which is, perhaps, why I looked so well to my apparelling ere I went to the Grieve's house. For a lad wearies for the speech of women-folk, and if he gets not one kind—why, he will seek another.
But now, when I come to think of it, I need not have troubled so to deck myself. For after the corner is turned and the long lane leads straight to the garden of roses, a woman cares not whether a man be clothed in dishclouts or whether he glitters like a bridegroom in cloth of gold.
So when I came near to the house there issued forth to meet me Kate Allison, which seemed to me like ancient days come back, and my heart beat in a fashion I never thought to feel again. For a burnt stick is easily lighted, and Kate Allison was, without doubt, both bonny and kind. She was waiting for me at the corner of the barn like one that has an assignation. So when she came near me she put her hands roguishly behind her, and said, 'Launce Kennedy, you are a false, deceitful lad, and no true lover. But think ye not that I care a pin, for I have gotten a braw lad of my own, and no thanks to you. Ye can get the Lady Marjorie to convoy hame next year from the Maybole Fair.'
And her speech made me glad, for she dropped me a courtesy and pretended to march off. So I knew full well that if she had not been heart-whole and at ease about all doubtful matters, she would have greeted me very differently. So, as I say, I was glad. Yet presently I liked it not so well as I expected, for though men are often false to their loves, they never understand how their loves can change from loving them. I knew well that Kate would, if not meddled with, immediately return to tell me what had befallen, and why it was that they had sent for me.
Which indeed was just what she did.
'We have gotten a mighty grave man here with us, who came to our house last night at e'en. We wanted to send word to the castle to Sir Thomas; but the man said that he had had enough of the Kennedies to last him his lifetime, and that he would put up with us, if we could make shift to give him a bed. He is a man of a majestic and noble countenance, and when he had come within, he took a Bible from his wallet, and tairged us tightly on the histories of the wars of the Jews and on points of doctrine.'
'Ye would be fit for that,' said I to her, laughing, 'for most of our discourse has been upon points of doctrine and practice—though I mind not that we touched upon the wars of the Jews. We had ever wars enough of our own. Was it not so, sweet Kate?'
And I would have taken her by the waist, for that is ever the way, as I have just been reading in my song-book, to punish a woman, when like a pretty scold, she slanders her love. So, as the London stage catch hath it, I forgave her for it. Yet for all she would by no means permit me to come near her—which I was mortally sorry for. Because though I wanted her to change, I desired her not to change so mightily as all that.
'Na, na,' she said, 'and that's by with. Kate Allison needs no general lovers. Wear you your own lady's favours; I can get them that loe me and none other, to wear mine.'
I pursued the subject no further at that time, meaning, however, to return to it. For a man likes not to see the things which have been freely his slipping from him like corn through a wide-meshed riddle. It makes his mind linger after things long past, and he begins to think them sweeter than any favours that ever he had, even when all the garden was most fully his to wander in and cull at his lordly pleasure.
Too soon for my liking, therefore, we came to the door of the Grieve's house, which was but a wide kitchen with two smaller rooms off it. I heard a voice uplifted as it seemed in prayer, and I bethought me with shame of my so late mean and earthly thoughts; but I looked at Kate Allison, and she was so pleasant to look upon that I found excuses for myself.
Then the prayer being done we went in, and they told the man in the inner room that that same Launcelot Kennedy, for whom he had inquired, was come.
So in a moment there came forth from the inner chamber, even as I had expected, Maister Robert Bruce. He wore his long, black cloak, and his fine, cloth coat showed soberly beneath it. His hat was on his head, which he doffed for a moment to Kate Allison and her mother, and then set on again. He bade them excuse him, for that he had much business to talk with me. I followed him out, and as I passed Kate, methought she looked disappointed that I should go thus soon. So, the corners of her mouth being down, and her mother's back turned, I put my hand beneath her chin, and plucked at the loose slip-knot of her bonnet, which was a pretty quipsome thing that haymakers use, but prettier on her than on any of them. Whereat she flashed forth a great, sharp pin and set it spitefully in my arm, which also was a pleasing habit of hers. But all was innocent and friendly enough, and my only excuse for thinking more of daffing with Kate Allison than of listening to the grave converse of Maister Robert Bruce, is that then I was nearing nineteen years of my age—which, as you all do know, is a time when maids' dimples are more moving than the wisdom of the sages.
That is all mine excuse, and, as well I wot, but a poor one. Yet when once Maister Bruce had me in the wood, taking me by the arm, the majesty of his countenance and the moving fervour of his voice so worked upon me that in good sooth I thought of naught but what he said.
He told me that he was resolved to depart out of this land of Carrick and Kyle, which might have been the Garden of Eden if it were not inhabited by devils. He had come no speed at reconciling the parties at feud, even as I could have told him before he began.
'When I had thought,' he said, 'that I had made some way in softening the heart of Gilbert Kennedy, who vaunts himself to be sincerely attached to me—and I do believe it—I said to him that he ought, for the settling of the quarrel, to give in his submission to his liege lord, the Earl of Cassillis. In a moment comes the fire into his eyes, the anger grows black in his heart, and all my good words are undone. I think you Kennedies are all of you possessed with evil spirits, even as it was in the days of the Gadarene out of whom Christ cast many devils.'
He paused a moment, and then continued,—
'So the name of the devils of Carrick is Legion, for they are very many!'
Then, being sorry that he should so speak of those who, after all, were my master's kin and in a manner my own—for all the world knows that a blood feud is a thing acknowledged in the Bible, as one may see when David lay on his deathbed—I asked him how I could serve him, in order that I might stay his abuse of that which he did not understand.
'You may wonder,' he went on, 'that I choose to speak in confidence to one that is but an esquire, and, I hear, as ready with his sword in the quarrel as any of them. But at least you are not like the rest, occupied entirely with the safety of your own skin, and unwilling to look the matter in the face.
I told him that I did not wonder at all that he was willing to speak to me, for that I could keep my counsel truly and well.
'Faith, and I believe that,' he cried, 'if it were only your self-conceit of being able to do it.'
But I understood not at all what he meant, for if there is anything that I am conspicuously lacking in, it is this very quality of self-conceit.
'Hear ye, then, and mark well my words,' said the Minister of Edinburgh. 'There is a man in this country who is at the root of all the blood and all the slaughter, and who, if he be not curbed, will yet do tenfold more mischief. Your master thinks that he can bribe him to friendship; well, I am no judge of men, if the man is to be bribed at any price beneath the sole power and sway of all this wild country of the west.'
'It is Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany that you mean,' said I, for I own I was jealous of his good name, enemy though he was.
'Gilbert Kennedy is but a hammer in this man's hand. Your good knight here at Culzean is but a spoon for him to sup with. And the only man that sees through him (and that but partially) is your joker-headed Earl, whose keen care for the merks, the duties, and the tacks, makes him somewhat clearer in the eye than the rest of you.'
'And who is this plotter?' said I.
He stopped and looked about him to see that none was listening. Then he laid his lips almost to my ear.
He whispered a name which, in this place, I must not write, though afterwards it will be plain enough.
'It is simply not possible,' said I; 'the man you mention is but a bonnet laird, as one might say, with a peel-tower and a holding of half-a-dozen crofts. Why, my master could eat him up saltless, without turning out more than half a parish of his fighting men.'
'Nevertheless,' said Robert Bruce, 'that is the man who stands behind and makes the miracles work, as in Popish days the priests were wont to do behind the altar. Ye are but a set of jigging fools here in Carrick, and the man that pipes to you is the man I've told ye of!'
Then I thought over the matter—all that I knew of the man.
'In truth,' said I, 'I am none so sure that you may not be right.'
Robert Bruce smiled as one that waxes aweary of a babe's prattle.
'For,' said I, 'I mind that I heard him endeavour to win one by promises to the side of Bargany—'
'Pshaw,' said the Minister, 'he would as readily try to win Bargany to the Earl's side, if it suited him to murder them both together. It is his plan to make them fight each other till there are none left—to cut off the heads of the taller poppies as in the ancient tale of Rome. I tell you this man has no side but his own, no desire but his own profit, no end but to make himself supreme in Carrick.'
'And what can I, that am but a squire and a youth, do in the matter?' said I.
'You are on the spot, Launcelot,' said the Minister, kindly. 'I am in Edinburgh, and if things march as evilly as they have been doing of late, it is likely I shall be even further afield than Edinburgh. But you can watch—you can judge whom it boots to warn. You can put in a word—'
'I shall put in a sword,' said I, stamping my foot; 'put it in deep—to think of such deceit and guile in a mere vassal and understrapper of my lord's.'
'Launcelot,' said the Minister of Edinburgh, 'you begin to make me sorry I trusted you. I should have spoken to a graver man.'
'Nay, sir,' I said, 'you mistake me. I but mean that if it came to the bitter bite of iron, the time for words might go by.'
'Ay,' he replied thoughtfully, 'there is some sense in that, but give not up the judicious words too early.'
So we betook ourselves gravely and staidly out of the wood, and at bidding him farewell I received his benediction, which he gave me with his right hand stretched out. And though I am tall and stand as erect as any man, yet the Minister of Edinburgh overtowered me by half a foot. But I minded that not in him.
So I went to the castle armoury to bethink me, for after what I had heard maids and bonnet strings were not to be more in my thought that day.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CORBIES AT THE EAGLE'S NEST
One snowy day, I mind it was a Thursday according to the day of the week, I had ridden to Girvan by the shore road. I journeyed unmolested save that one sent a shot after me as I passed the tower of Girvanmains. But this not so much, I think, with intent to do me an injury, as because they saw my Cassillis colours, and could not let them pass unchallenged by a yett of the Bargany folk.
But upon my return I got one of the greatest surprises of my life, for as I rode gladly into the courtyard of Culzean, lo! there was my lord out on the steps, with the noble courtesy and distinction which none could assume so well as he, being indeed natural to him, bidding farewell to a pair of guests whom I never looked to see in the courtyard of Culzean, save as it might be coming in decently, heels first, for the purposes of Christian burial.
The two strangers were John Mure of Auchendrayne and the young Laird, his son. The old man was dressed as I first saw him—in plain, fine cloth of blue without decoration. He wore no arms or any armour that was visible—though by the square setting of his body as he came down the steps I judged that he wore a stand of chain mail underneath. His son James, a cruel, loutish, hot-headed, but not wholly ill-looking young man, was clad in the gayest fashion. He wore the wide, falling lace collar which Prince Henry had brought in from France, and a pointed doublet and wide breeches of the newest English mode.
It was John Mure who was speaking, for his son was but a lout, and had little to say all the days of him. He waved his hand to the steps, by the door of Culzean, whereon there stood Marjorie Kennedy, with her arm on Nell's shoulder, both being pale as death, and seeming more dowie and sad than I had ever seen them look before.
'It is to be the burying of strife,' cried Auchendrayne; 'in this loving cup I drink it. The day of our love is at the dawning, and the auguries of the time to come are of the happiest. To our next and sweeter merrymaking!'
And Sir Thomas, with his face one beaming smile of pleasure, bade him a loving farewell, and told him to haste back, for that cousins thus joined in affection could not be too often together.
And all the while I sat Dom Nicholas as one that is sunk fathoms deep in blank astonishment.
As Auchendrayne rode through the gateway, he waved his hand to me, and turning to Culzean, where he stood looking after them, he cried in the hearing of them all,—
'You have there the handsomest and the boldest squire in all the south country, Culzean. This is the bruit that I hear of this young man everywhere I go.'
And so, still smiling and bowing, he rode away with his son half a length of his horse behind him.
But I gave him no greeting, neither yea nor nay—but regarded him with a fixed countenance. For my heart was like stone within me, because of the sorrow that I saw coming on the house and could noways prevent.
Now the bitterness of this winter did not come till some time after the New Year. It was about the midst of January when the frost bit most keenly, and the snow began to fall most deeply. The Culzean lads, James, Alexander and little David (who was my favourite), caused the court and out-buildings to ring with happiness. Joy and peace seemed indeed for a little to have come back to Culzean. This was the first snow since David had donned the trunks, and laid by the bairn's kilts—which are indeed mortally cold wear in the winter season when it comes to rolling in the snow.
David, as I say, was my favourite, and continually in my loneliness a comfort to me, though I have not hitherto often mentioned him, seeing that the young lads of Culzean come not into my tale greatly, saving at this time. Though, in the coming day, they may into the tales others shall tell, when we that now prank it so gaily are no better than the broken shards of a drained pottle-pot. But little Davie was a merry lad, and I am glad that there is occasion for me to name him in this history.
Davie was now manfully equipped in doublet and trunk hosen of duffle grey homespun, so thick that his brothers feigned that with a little trouble and propping they stood up very well by themselves, when their daily tenant had untrussed him and gone to bed.
And ever the snow came down. It lay deep on all the face of the country, but more especially it had swirled into the courtyard of Culzean, so that the very steps of the door were sleeked, and great wreaths lay every way about the court. The lads made revel in it, borrowing shovels from the stables and throwing up the snow on either side, so as to make narrow passages between the different doors of the castle and the offices about.
I cannot set down, because that there is press of matters more serious yet to be related, a tithe of the merry pranks the rogues wrought in their madness. They revelled in the smother of the snow like whelps that are turned loose. Yet because there is none too much of merriment in this chronicle, I shall make shift to tell somewhat of their quipsome rascaldom.
It chanced one morning that Alexander, who was of a mirthful mind, stood by a little door which led into the house wherein our peats and turfs were kept for the fires, so that it might not be necessary to bring a supply each day from the peatstacks on the hill where the greater store was.
Whether Sandy's head ached from having eaten too many cakes at the time of the New Year, I know not, but suddenly it came into his mind that it might be a desirable thing and a cooling, to stick his bullet head into a mighty snowdrift which lay in front of the peat-house door. So accordingly, for no particular reason, he bent himself into an arch and thrust his head neck-deep into the snow.
At this moment came his elder brother, James Kennedy, upon the scene, and his mood was also merry.
'Bless the rascal,' quoth he, 'whither hath his tidy lump of a top-knot betaken itself to?'
So without loss of a moment the rogue made him a large ball of snow, well compacted, and caused it to burst upon the stretched trusses of Sandy's breeches, with a noise like the breaking of an egg upon a wall.
Sandy snatched his head from the snow swift as a blade that bends itself to the straight, and stood erect. There was no one in sight save little Davie, who danced at a distance and laughed innocently at the jest. For James, the doer of it, had instantly dropped into a deep snow passage. Whereat Sandy, cured as to his head, but villainously stung in the breech, turned him about in fierce anger, seeking for someone to truncheon. The lad Davie's laugh annoyed him, and Sandy, being an adept at the palm play, sent a snowball at his young brother, which took him smartly upon the cheek.
Instantly Davie, poor callant, set up a cry of pain, which brought his sister Nell upon the scene with all the furies in the tangle of her hair.
'Ye muckle, good-for-nothing calves!' she cried, addressing both her unseen brothers, whom she well knew to be lying hidden somewhere among the snow passages of the courtyard, 'I will bring Launce Kennedy to you with a knotty stick, and that by my father's orders—clodding at a bairn that gate, and garring him greet. Ye think I canna see ye, but if ye dinna come oot decently, I will come and bring ye. Ye may think black shame o' yoursel's!'
And this I do not doubt that James and Sandy did. For to be flyted upon by a lass, lying prone the while upon one's stomach in a snow bank, does not make for self-respect. So both the lads began to crawl away as best they might from Nell's dangerous neighbourhood. It jumped greatly with my humour to watch them from the upper window of the armoury which looked abroad over the court. All unwitting they approached the one to the other with their heads down, and at the corner, each running with full speed upon his hands and knees, they knocked their skulls together soundly, with a well-resounding crack which pleased me. Instantly they clinched and fought like wild cats, biting and fisting in the snow—till their father, attracted from the hall by the noise, came down and laid upon them both right soundly, with the great whip wherewith the dogs were beaten when they were trained for hunting.
All this was excellent sport to me, but the best was yet to come. In a little thereafter I saw Nell, who was a merry lass when there was nothing upon her mind, come quietly out of the side door that led to the kitchen places, with David in her hand. She set him within a small flanking tower, which in old days had been loop-holed for arrows. Then she locked the door upon him, taking the key with her. Before she went she handed the boy two or three snowballs made from the wet, slushy snow, where the sunshine had caused some drops to melt off the roof and fall from the eaves.
Thus she went to the corner, I watching with joy the while from the window of the armoury.
'Jamie, Sandy,' she cried, 'come hither, lads. There's something here for your private ear!'
At first the boys would not move, still smarting and sulky from their father's training-whip. But in a little they came, and Nell enticed them with the repeated promise of 'something for their private ear' (the artful minx!), till she had them exactly opposite the little window where David was posted with his weapons of offence.
Suddenly from the arrow-slot there came a discharge of artillery. The providence that helps the weak put pith and fusion into little David's arm. As though it had been the smooth stone of the brook that sped whizzing to the brazen front of Goliath, the first moist shot of David's ordnance plumped with a splash into the ear of Sandy. In an instant I lay upon the floor in the laughter which comes only from beholding silly things. For there below me were James and Sandy Kennedy each dancing upon the point of their shoon, and with their little fingers digging in their several ears to excavate from thence the well-compacted slush wherewith little David had taken his fitting revenge.
Nor was the occupation made easier for them by the vexatious commentaries of their sister Nell, who repeated over and over again to them, between her bursts of laughter, 'Did I not tell you that if ye came to the corner of the tower ye would get something for your private ear? This will learn you to let wee Davie alane!'
CHAPTER XVIII
BAIRNS' PLAY
There remains yet one other of their pranks to be told, and that only because it is knit into the story, and so must be unravelled along with it.
The pair of elders, after this defeat at the hands of Nell and little David, took counsel together, and might sooner have hit upon something to their mind, but that James, as was usual with him, stood in an attitude of cogitation, having his mouth very wide open. Whereat Sandy, whose wits were brighter, could not, even for the sake of the alliance between them, refrain from dropping therein a snowball which he had ready in his hand for any purpose that might arise. This he did with the same neatness and adroitness with which he would have dropped a ball of worset yarn, when the caps were on the green for the game royal of Bonnet-Ba'.
It took some time and a mighty deal of struggling on the ground before this treachery between friends could be arranged. Also much thrusting of snow down the backs of doublets and holding it there till it melted—together with other still more unseemly and uncomfortable proceedings.
Then the reconciled allies entered the castle together, promising peace, and fell into talk with young Davie, who stood within the great door in the inviolate safety of the hall.
'Do you want a merk?' said Sandy, tempting him with the sight of one, which at that day was great wealth. 'It will buy store of peaches, and pears, and baked apples at Baillie Underwood's in the High Street, preserved cherries also, and marmalit of plums.'
Then said Davie, 'A merk I want, indeed, as does everyone, but you are not the fellow to give it me. Therefore quit your pother, for I know that you would only make friends to get me apart, and so work mischief upon me.'
A wise boy David.
'As I live I lie not,' said Sandy, taking a great oath. 'I will give you the merk, if ye go down after dark to the barn, and passing through the great door to the lesser door at the back, shut and bolt it with its bar of oak, and so return the way ye went. If ye do this, sure as death, I lie not, I will give you the merk.'
Little David, who had ofttimes been deceived of his brothers, considered upon the offer a while, and at last he said to Sandy,—
'As sure as death ye might lie, though twice ye have said it; but give the merk into the keeping of Launce Kennedy, that will not tell lies, at least not for such freits, and then I will take your dare, and go shut the further door of the barn.'
They came up therefore to me to the armoury, James, Sandy and David all together; and as soon as I heard them coming I went from the window and sat by the fire, that they might not suspect I had observed aught of their matters. Then, when they revealed the plot to me, I bade Sandy be careful what he did, for it was growing dark, and I misdoubted that they meant to fright the child. So I feared them with the threat of their father, and as little David lingered while his brothers went lumbering and shouting down the armoury stair, I put into his hand a short blackthorn cudgel which the young Sheriff of Galloway had brought with him over from Ireland.
'If ye see anything more than common, hit it as hard as ye can with that,' I bade him.
And so little David passed out. I could not see him far across the yard because of the fall of the gloaming, but on his return, all a-drip of sweat and in a quivering tremble of agony, he told me what had befallen him.
'It was bitter cold,' he said, 'and I will not say that I was not feared, for I was. Yet, so long as the door stood ajar, there came a ray of light through it, and my heart was cheered. But presently it was shut to, and I had all the way to go alone.
'But I heard the cows in the byre rattling at their hemps through the rings, and as I kenned, pulling at the meadow hay in their stalls. And that at least was some company. So I went on and the frosty snow squeaked under my feet. I came to the great door of the barn. It stood open, vast and terrible as the mouth of a giant's cave. But I thought of the marmalit of plums, and in I went with my heart gulp—gulping high in my throat.'
I nodded at the little fellow, for many a time had I felt the same, and said nothing about it—when I was much younger, of course.
'So,' said he, 'I went through the barn in which was such hay and straw, till I came to the midst of it. Here I stopped to listen, for I could hear a noise, indeed many noises. However, it was only the black rattons firsling among the straw. I felt a thousand miles away from home, an orphan, and very lonely—nor did thinking on marmalit of plums now bring comfort—at least, none to speak of.
'But, nevertheless, because I thought of the taunting and japing of James and Sandy, I took my way to the further door that looketh upon the old orchard. The black corn-stacks shut out many of the stars, but those that were left tingled and shone cold. I thought I had no friend nearer than one of these. I was much afraid.
'Yet nevertheless I shut the back door and barred it—barred it good and strong with both bolts, and set a corn-measure at the back for luck. This being done, I turned and took but one step towards the great door, through which I could see the snow shining like a mist. Then my heart stopped, and I tried to cry out very loud, but, alas! I could not cry out at all.
'For there was Something in the doorway. I could see it against the snow. Something that crawled on the ground with dull, horrid eyes, set wide apart, and that turned a shapeless, horned head slowly from side to side, moaning and yammering the while.
'I thought I should die. Then I feared that I should not die before the thing took me, for it slowly invaded the barn till it filled all the doorway. By this I knew that I should indeed be devoured. Nevertheless, I minded what it was you said before I went. So I thought that, having a stout stick in my hand, I might as well die after having smitten a good stroke as not—'
'Bravo, young David!' cried I; 'that is the right spirit of battle.'
'So I took the blackthorn in both hands,' he went on, 'and swung it about my head as you showed me in the hagging down of trees. With that I struck the horrible thing fairly between the eyes. Then leaping over it I ran, how I know not, for the house door—where I laughed and wept time about till Nell brought me here that you might bid me stop. Now I want the merk.'
So I gave him the merk, took down the dog-whip from the nail where it hung, and went out to look for Jamie and Sandy—for well I knew that this had been one of their tricks to frighten the boy, and I was resolved that they should take a thrashing, either from me or, what they would less desire, from their father—who, though a kind enough man till he began to lay on, was apt to be carried away with the exercise, and to forget bowels of mercy.
But when I got upon the snow by the door, Sandy came running to me, fairly crying out with terror. He had the hide of a muckle bullock, which had been killed that day, trailing from his waist. His face, in the light that fell from the lamp in the hall, was a sight to be seen. There was a lump on his brow, between the eyes, as large (to a nearness) as a hen's egg. All his face was a-lapper with blood, so that for the moment I thought that the lad had really been killed. But when I pulled him up to the armoury, and got him washed, I found that the blood was only that of the bullock, whose hide he had wrapped about him in order that he might crawl on the ground and fright his brother David.
And I had there and then taken him to task with the dog-whip (for indeed he might have bereft the child of reason), but the sight of his own wordless terror smote upon me, so that I desisted—for that time at least.
For a while Sandy could not speak by reason of the fear which blanched his face, and caused him to hold by my coat even when I went across the room. At last however he found tongue.
'There is a man,' he stammered, 'a man with a drawn sword, standing at the barn end in a grey cloak, and a wild beast crouching beside him.'
'Barley-break, flim-flam,' said I, for I believed not a word of it, 'your head is muzzy with your carrying the bullock's head and horns, and serve you right had David given you a warble on it twice as big.'
'No,' gasped Sandy, 'it is not fantasy. I saw the man clearly. He stood against the sky in a grey cloak, and the beast crouched and held a lanthorn by him. Oh, Launce, I fear I have seen the Black Man, and that I shall die.'
'Seen your granny's hippen-clouts!' said I, roughly, for I was angry at his senselessness. 'Lay raw beef to your beauty-spot, my man, sleep here with me, and I will forgive you the licking with the dog-whip.'
So by little and little I got Sandy soothed down till he went to sleep on my bed, moaning and tossing the while. Then I set me down to think, alone, on the window-sill above the courtyard, for I had long since handed David over to the care of Nell. Sometimes for convenience, I slept in the armoury, for Sir Thomas had trusted me with everything since I had proved myself in the wars.
I saw well that evil was somehow intended against the house of Culzean, and that something terrible walked in darkness. I resolved that I should find out what it was or die. Yet I liked not stealthy adventure so much as plain cut and thrust, and wished that I had had Robert Harburgh with me. But I knew that, though brave as a lion, he somewhat lacked discretion, and so might spoil all. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to go out alone.
CHAPTER XIX
FIGHTING THE BEASTS
Having shut and locked the armoury door behind me, I stood a great while very still on the steps in the black shadow; for nothing could I see, though I looked till my eyes ached. So I set out with my sword bare in my hand, and my left hand hafting an easily-drawn dagger. I declare if I had only known for certain that the thing which troubled the house was naught but flesh and blood, I had not cared the tickling of a Flemish poulet. For I was growing to rejoice in adventure, believing that my own luck was to win through in safety whatever might befall to others. Indeed I never loved a leg-lagging, grease-collecting life, like that of a burgher or a cellarer. But rather to strip and lay on till the arm dirls with striking—that is, in a just cause, of course. Although sometimes, if your chief so command, one must strike without inquiring with too queasy a conscience, like a mere yea-forsoothing knave, what may be the cause for which ye are set to drive the steel. For it is soldierly to strike first and inquire the cause after—that is, if the man live.
But I ride the wild mare whenever I lay the reins on the neck of my goose-quill. And since I love to keep the pages even and the lines straight, anything that will serve to fill up the tale of my day's doing goes down. But pleasant writing maketh not always good or full-mattered reading.
I stood therefore awhile outside the armoury door and saw only the drifted snow and the line of white roofs against a dark sky. So, having little hope of discovery by waiting like a dancer outside a ring, I stepped lightly down, being shod in soft double hosen without leathern shoon, so that my feet made no noise on the frosty snow. About the house I stole, gliding from shelter to shelter, till I came to the edge of the cliff, where I could hear, but not see, the breaker waves crisping and clapping upon the shore. At such a time the sea is black. But so much blacker was the night that I saw it not even when I looked straight down upon it.
Turning, I made the circuit of the castle, but still found nothing. Then I minded me how it was by the barn that Sandy had seen the vision which had affrighted him. So I set teeth and gripped blade tighter, and took my way to the barn door. It stood wide and vacant, gaping at me like an open sepulchre.
I will admit that it required all my courage boldly to go in, for it is hard to enter that which is the blackness of darkness to you, with the knowledge that all the while you stand the fairest of targets in the doorway. But because, as my father had told me, it is ever better to pursue than to flee, I stepped within with elbow crooked for the thrust, and dagger arm cleared of the cloak.
But it was as silent in the barn as elsewhere. I did not even hear the rats of which my little David had spoken. I began to think that I had been as needlessly and as childlessly alarmed as he. Then all at once and quite clearly I heard voices speaking together at the outer corner of the granary.
So I went near to a convenient wicket that I might listen, and my very heart and life chilled and thickened, because that the voices were those of our Marjorie and someone else who spoke low and sober—not quick and high like Gilbert Kennedy.
Then was my heart full of disgust that I should find her whom I had loved and worshipped engaging in another midnight tryst, and one that might be no better than a paltry intrigue.
So angered was I that I stole to the door, meaning to break out upon them in violent speech, caring little in mine anger what should happen. But as I came to the edge of the hard-beaten threshing-floor, Marjorie Kennedy came to the door swiftly. Turning in front of the barn, and standing with the shawl thrown back from her head, she spoke to the man she had left, whom as yet I saw not.
'Remember,' she said, 'I promise no more than the bare fact. I tell you I choose the grave before a bride-bed, the worm before such a husband!'
But the man to whom she spoke uttered no word, though he had come nearer to where in the dusk of the doorway I stood with my sword bare in my hand. I could see him plainly now—all but his face, for the tide of darkness was on the ebb. He was the tall, cloaked man whom we knew as the Grey Man.
Behind him, at the angle of the wall, crouched a black mass which yet was human—because, even as I looked, it took something from under a coat, and rose erect beside the Grey Man. As Marjorie vanished these two figures moved towards my hiding-place in the barn. I had no time to do more than glide within, pull a sheaf or two from the mow, and thrust myself, like a sword into its scabbard, within the hole I had made amid the piled grain.
Even as I looked, their dark figures filled up the square of greyness which the open barn door made against the snow. I saw them enter, feeling with their hands, as though to grasp something, yet not making any light to guide them in finding it.
Then indeed I was disquieted, and my very bones became as water within me. For if there is anything trying to the flesh of mortal man, it is to lie still and be groped for in the dark by unknown and horrible enemies. I had a nightmare sense of powerlessness to move, of impotence in the face of peril. I knew that when the blind groping inhuman horror took me by the throat, I should not be able even to cry out. It was like a dream of fever made real.
A moment after I heard a man's voice speak in a fierce whisper.
'Ah, here it is! Give me your hand and put strength to it.'
Then in a moment, like the breaking of a dam, the fear quite went from me. They were but common-place robbers after all, and I a craven and a coward to lie still while my master's goods were being stolen before my eyes.
I leaped out upon them without waiting to think, for I was not feared of a dozen such.
'Hold!' I cried. 'Stand for your lives, gutter-thieves, or I will run you through!'
I stood in the doorway with my sword and dagger in hand, and as soon as I felt one come against the point of my blade, I let him have it with all my might, for it was not a time for half-measures. Then, though I heard the answering cry of wounding, there was no time for further action, for something came at me with a rush like a wild beast of the wood, and the snarl of the springing heather cat. Now there are many things that a lad of eighteen or nineteen may do—things of worth and daring—but he cannot stand against the weight of a strong and well-grown man when he leaps upon him. Therefore I cannot count it to my shame that now I was overcome and overborne. Once and again was I smitten, till I felt the iron, as it had been fire, strike me here and there. And though I felt no pain, there was something warm, which I divined to be my own blood, running down. Then I knew no more.
When I awoke I was in the Grieve's house, lying on a bed. Sir Thomas Kennedy, my master, and the Earl himself were bending over me. They had unclasped my hand, and now stood back in wonderment at what they found gripped in it.
'It is the key of the treasure chest of Kelwood—the key with my father, the King of Carrick's seal graven upon it! Where could the lad have gotten it?'
Yet of a certainty they had taken it out of my tightly-clenched hand, which had been fixed upon something ever since they found me on the barn threshing-floor, where I lay senseless in a pool of my own blood.