[Contents]CHAPTER XLI.Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.Sir Patrick Hepborne left the apartments of the Countess of Moray melancholy and unhappy. He retired to his own chamber, to ruminate on the ingratitude of his heartless page; and, when the hour of the banquet arrived, he went to the Hall of Randolph with a mind but little attuned to harmonize with its festivities. But it was more in unison with his feelings than he had anticipated. The Countess of Moray, who was by this time fully aware that the destructive fire of Forres had been kindled by her brother’s hand, was unable to appear; and her example was followed by most of the other ladies. The Earl of Fife, too, and several other nobles and knights, were absent. The Earl of Moray was indeed present; but he was there only in body, for his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. All his attempts to[289]rally his spirits were unavailing, and the sombre air which hung upon his countenance speedily spread along the gay ranks of the festive board, to the extinction of everything like mirth.In this state of things, the Earl speedily broke up the feast. He had serious thoughts of breaking up the tournament also, and these he privately communicated to his brother-in-law, the Earl of Fife; but that crafty politician objected to a measure which could only make his brother’s outrage the more talked of; and he had a still stronger reason in his own mind, for he did not wish to be deprived of the opportunity, afforded him by the tournament, of gaining over friends to the party he was forming to strengthen his own power. It was therefore finally determined that next day it should be solemnly proclaimed by the heralds.The Earl of Moray and his lady passed a sleepless night, turning in their minds how they could best repair the wrong done by their brother, the Wolfe of Badenoch. Early in the morning one of the Countess’s favourite damsels, Katherine Spears by name, came to beseech an audience of the Earl for her father, Rory Spears. There was nothing extraordinary in this request, for the Earl was so much the friend of his people that he was ever ready to lend an ear to the complaints of the meanest individual among them. The man who now craved an interview was an old partizan of the Earl’s, who had fought under his banner and at his back in many a battle, and who was employed in time of peace in hunting, hawking, and fishing.As the Earl had a peculiar regard for Rory Spears, the damsel was ordered to send him up immediately to a small turret room, where his Lordship usually received people in his rank of life. Rory’s heavy fishing boots were soon heard ascending the turret stair, and his bulky figure appeared, followed by a great rough allounde and one or two terriers. As Katherine showed him in, there was something peculiarly striking in the contrast between her sylphlike figure, delicate face, and ladylike air, and his Herculean mould and rough-hewn features, in which there was a strangely-mixed and contradictory expression of acuteness and simplicity, good nature, and sullen testiness. His huge shoulders had a natural bend forward, and a profusion of grizzled curls mingled in bushy luxuriance with the abundant produce of his cheeks, lips, and chin. On his head was a close red hood, that lay over his neck and back, and he wore a coarse grey woollen jerkin and hauselines, covered with an ample upper garment of the same materials, and of a form much resembling that constituting a part of the fisherman’s garb of[290]the present day. In one hand he brandished a long pole with a sharp iron hook at the end of it, the bend of the hook being projected into a long pike, and the whole so constructed as to be equally serviceable as a hunting-spear or as a fish-clip. He stooped yet more as he entered the low doorway of the turret room, and had no sooner established his thick-soled boots upon the floor than he made an obeisance to the Earl, with his cap under his arm.“What hath brought thee hither so early, friend Rory?” inquired the Earl.“In good sooth, my noble Lord, I did think that the Castle mought maybe be lacking provender, wi’ a’ thay knights, grandees, and lordlings ilka day in the hall, an’ so mony o’ their people in the kitchen, so I did gather some of the knaves with their horse beasts, and I hae brought thee ower six fat deer, some wild pollayle, and a dozen or twa o’ salmons, to help the buttery-man to fill his spense; ’tis no deaf nits, I rauken, that’ll fill sae mony mouths.”“I thank thee, Rory,” said the Earl; “it was indeed most considerate in thee; thy present is most welcome. How fares it with Alice, thy wife?”“Fu’ weel, my Lord Yearl,” replied Rory; “troth I see no complaints about the woman. And how’s a’ wi’ my Lady Countess?”“A little indisposed to-day, Rory,” replied the Earl gravely.“Fie, fie! I’m sorry for that,” said Rory; “I’se warrant feasting and galravaging mun agree but soberly wi’ her Ladyship’s honour. By St. Lowry, but I’m no that mokell the better for it mysel when I drink ower deep.”“Too much drink is certainly bad, Rory, though the Countess’s indisposition hath nothing of that in it,” replied the Earl smiling: “but a black-jack of ale can do thee but little harm of a morning, so get thee to the kitchen, that thou mayest have thy draught.”“Thanks, my most noble Yearl,” cried Rory; “a black-jack full of ale—nay, I spoke of gallons; it will take gallons to gi’ me an aching head, I promise thee; nay, one gallon, or twa gallons, peraunter, would do me but little harm. But that wasna just a’ my business, my Lord; I hae something mair to speak to thee about. Wasn’t thee wanting a cast o’ hawks?”“Yea, I did indeed much wish for some of these noble birds, the which our rocks are famed for rearing, good Rory,” replied the Earl. “The King hath heard of the excellence of our falcons, and I have promised to send him a cast of them.”[291]“Aweel, aweel, the King’s honour shanna want them an’ I can get a grup o’ them,” replied Spears; “and sae your Lordship may tell him frae me.”“Thanks, good Rory, for thy zeal,” replied the Earl; “get thee then to the kitchen, and have thy morning’s draught.”“But that was not just a’ that I had to say to thine honourable Lordship,” said Rory, still lingering.“I do opine that thou lackest advice and assistance in some little matter of thine own, friend Rory?” said the Earl smiling.“Troth, my noble Lord Yearl, thou art not far from the mark there; and yet it’s not just mine own matter neither, though some few years mought peraunter ha’ made it mine; but it’s nobody’s now but his who hath got it.”“Nay, now thou art somewhat mystical, Rory,” said the Earl; “come to the point at once, I pr’ythee, and effunde thy whole tale distinctly to me, for my time is rather precious this morning.”“The short and the long, then, of this matter, my Lord Yearl, is, that my wife’s mother hath been robbed of fifty broad pieces,” replied Rory.“What! old Elspeth of the Burgh? who can have done so foul a larcen?” demanded the Earl.“Ay, good my Lord, just our old mother Elspeth,” replied Spears. “The money was the hard earnings of her goodman, the smith, who, rest his soul, was a hard-working Christian, as thou mayest remember.”“And how did this wicked stouthrief happen?” inquired the Earl.“By the mass, I will tell thee as speedily as may be, my Lord,” replied Rory. “It was but the night before last, that is to say, the night o’ the brenning o’ theBurgh, that it did happen. The haflins lassie that looketh after old Lucky was sent out to bring her tidings o’ the fire. Thee knawest that the poor soul downa easily budge from eild; and as she did lig in her blankets she hearden a heavy foot in the place; and when she got up she did find the kist opened, and the old leathern purse with her money gone.”“’Tis a hard case, indeed,” said the Earl; “and hast thou any suspicions, Rory?”“Nay, for a matter o’ that, I hae my own thoughts,” replied Rory; “yet I canna say that I am just sicker anent it; but cannot thou do nought, my noble Yearl?”“Do thou use all thine ingenuity to find out the thief,” said the Earl; “I shall see what my people may be able to do to aid[292]thee; and if we discover the rogue, a court shall be summoned, and he shall straightway hang for his villainy.”“Thanks, my good Lord,” replied Rory, making his obeisance preparatory to departure; “verily I am much beholden to thee; but an’ we recover not the broad pieces, we shall gain little by the foiterer’s neck being lengthened; yet I’ll see what may be done to catch him.”“Do so, Rory,” said the Earl; “thou shalt have the aid of some of my people, and I do wish thee success.”
[Contents]CHAPTER XLI.Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.Sir Patrick Hepborne left the apartments of the Countess of Moray melancholy and unhappy. He retired to his own chamber, to ruminate on the ingratitude of his heartless page; and, when the hour of the banquet arrived, he went to the Hall of Randolph with a mind but little attuned to harmonize with its festivities. But it was more in unison with his feelings than he had anticipated. The Countess of Moray, who was by this time fully aware that the destructive fire of Forres had been kindled by her brother’s hand, was unable to appear; and her example was followed by most of the other ladies. The Earl of Fife, too, and several other nobles and knights, were absent. The Earl of Moray was indeed present; but he was there only in body, for his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. All his attempts to[289]rally his spirits were unavailing, and the sombre air which hung upon his countenance speedily spread along the gay ranks of the festive board, to the extinction of everything like mirth.In this state of things, the Earl speedily broke up the feast. He had serious thoughts of breaking up the tournament also, and these he privately communicated to his brother-in-law, the Earl of Fife; but that crafty politician objected to a measure which could only make his brother’s outrage the more talked of; and he had a still stronger reason in his own mind, for he did not wish to be deprived of the opportunity, afforded him by the tournament, of gaining over friends to the party he was forming to strengthen his own power. It was therefore finally determined that next day it should be solemnly proclaimed by the heralds.The Earl of Moray and his lady passed a sleepless night, turning in their minds how they could best repair the wrong done by their brother, the Wolfe of Badenoch. Early in the morning one of the Countess’s favourite damsels, Katherine Spears by name, came to beseech an audience of the Earl for her father, Rory Spears. There was nothing extraordinary in this request, for the Earl was so much the friend of his people that he was ever ready to lend an ear to the complaints of the meanest individual among them. The man who now craved an interview was an old partizan of the Earl’s, who had fought under his banner and at his back in many a battle, and who was employed in time of peace in hunting, hawking, and fishing.As the Earl had a peculiar regard for Rory Spears, the damsel was ordered to send him up immediately to a small turret room, where his Lordship usually received people in his rank of life. Rory’s heavy fishing boots were soon heard ascending the turret stair, and his bulky figure appeared, followed by a great rough allounde and one or two terriers. As Katherine showed him in, there was something peculiarly striking in the contrast between her sylphlike figure, delicate face, and ladylike air, and his Herculean mould and rough-hewn features, in which there was a strangely-mixed and contradictory expression of acuteness and simplicity, good nature, and sullen testiness. His huge shoulders had a natural bend forward, and a profusion of grizzled curls mingled in bushy luxuriance with the abundant produce of his cheeks, lips, and chin. On his head was a close red hood, that lay over his neck and back, and he wore a coarse grey woollen jerkin and hauselines, covered with an ample upper garment of the same materials, and of a form much resembling that constituting a part of the fisherman’s garb of[290]the present day. In one hand he brandished a long pole with a sharp iron hook at the end of it, the bend of the hook being projected into a long pike, and the whole so constructed as to be equally serviceable as a hunting-spear or as a fish-clip. He stooped yet more as he entered the low doorway of the turret room, and had no sooner established his thick-soled boots upon the floor than he made an obeisance to the Earl, with his cap under his arm.“What hath brought thee hither so early, friend Rory?” inquired the Earl.“In good sooth, my noble Lord, I did think that the Castle mought maybe be lacking provender, wi’ a’ thay knights, grandees, and lordlings ilka day in the hall, an’ so mony o’ their people in the kitchen, so I did gather some of the knaves with their horse beasts, and I hae brought thee ower six fat deer, some wild pollayle, and a dozen or twa o’ salmons, to help the buttery-man to fill his spense; ’tis no deaf nits, I rauken, that’ll fill sae mony mouths.”“I thank thee, Rory,” said the Earl; “it was indeed most considerate in thee; thy present is most welcome. How fares it with Alice, thy wife?”“Fu’ weel, my Lord Yearl,” replied Rory; “troth I see no complaints about the woman. And how’s a’ wi’ my Lady Countess?”“A little indisposed to-day, Rory,” replied the Earl gravely.“Fie, fie! I’m sorry for that,” said Rory; “I’se warrant feasting and galravaging mun agree but soberly wi’ her Ladyship’s honour. By St. Lowry, but I’m no that mokell the better for it mysel when I drink ower deep.”“Too much drink is certainly bad, Rory, though the Countess’s indisposition hath nothing of that in it,” replied the Earl smiling: “but a black-jack of ale can do thee but little harm of a morning, so get thee to the kitchen, that thou mayest have thy draught.”“Thanks, my most noble Yearl,” cried Rory; “a black-jack full of ale—nay, I spoke of gallons; it will take gallons to gi’ me an aching head, I promise thee; nay, one gallon, or twa gallons, peraunter, would do me but little harm. But that wasna just a’ my business, my Lord; I hae something mair to speak to thee about. Wasn’t thee wanting a cast o’ hawks?”“Yea, I did indeed much wish for some of these noble birds, the which our rocks are famed for rearing, good Rory,” replied the Earl. “The King hath heard of the excellence of our falcons, and I have promised to send him a cast of them.”[291]“Aweel, aweel, the King’s honour shanna want them an’ I can get a grup o’ them,” replied Spears; “and sae your Lordship may tell him frae me.”“Thanks, good Rory, for thy zeal,” replied the Earl; “get thee then to the kitchen, and have thy morning’s draught.”“But that was not just a’ that I had to say to thine honourable Lordship,” said Rory, still lingering.“I do opine that thou lackest advice and assistance in some little matter of thine own, friend Rory?” said the Earl smiling.“Troth, my noble Lord Yearl, thou art not far from the mark there; and yet it’s not just mine own matter neither, though some few years mought peraunter ha’ made it mine; but it’s nobody’s now but his who hath got it.”“Nay, now thou art somewhat mystical, Rory,” said the Earl; “come to the point at once, I pr’ythee, and effunde thy whole tale distinctly to me, for my time is rather precious this morning.”“The short and the long, then, of this matter, my Lord Yearl, is, that my wife’s mother hath been robbed of fifty broad pieces,” replied Rory.“What! old Elspeth of the Burgh? who can have done so foul a larcen?” demanded the Earl.“Ay, good my Lord, just our old mother Elspeth,” replied Spears. “The money was the hard earnings of her goodman, the smith, who, rest his soul, was a hard-working Christian, as thou mayest remember.”“And how did this wicked stouthrief happen?” inquired the Earl.“By the mass, I will tell thee as speedily as may be, my Lord,” replied Rory. “It was but the night before last, that is to say, the night o’ the brenning o’ theBurgh, that it did happen. The haflins lassie that looketh after old Lucky was sent out to bring her tidings o’ the fire. Thee knawest that the poor soul downa easily budge from eild; and as she did lig in her blankets she hearden a heavy foot in the place; and when she got up she did find the kist opened, and the old leathern purse with her money gone.”“’Tis a hard case, indeed,” said the Earl; “and hast thou any suspicions, Rory?”“Nay, for a matter o’ that, I hae my own thoughts,” replied Rory; “yet I canna say that I am just sicker anent it; but cannot thou do nought, my noble Yearl?”“Do thou use all thine ingenuity to find out the thief,” said the Earl; “I shall see what my people may be able to do to aid[292]thee; and if we discover the rogue, a court shall be summoned, and he shall straightway hang for his villainy.”“Thanks, my good Lord,” replied Rory, making his obeisance preparatory to departure; “verily I am much beholden to thee; but an’ we recover not the broad pieces, we shall gain little by the foiterer’s neck being lengthened; yet I’ll see what may be done to catch him.”“Do so, Rory,” said the Earl; “thou shalt have the aid of some of my people, and I do wish thee success.”
CHAPTER XLI.Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.
Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.
Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.
Sir Patrick Hepborne left the apartments of the Countess of Moray melancholy and unhappy. He retired to his own chamber, to ruminate on the ingratitude of his heartless page; and, when the hour of the banquet arrived, he went to the Hall of Randolph with a mind but little attuned to harmonize with its festivities. But it was more in unison with his feelings than he had anticipated. The Countess of Moray, who was by this time fully aware that the destructive fire of Forres had been kindled by her brother’s hand, was unable to appear; and her example was followed by most of the other ladies. The Earl of Fife, too, and several other nobles and knights, were absent. The Earl of Moray was indeed present; but he was there only in body, for his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. All his attempts to[289]rally his spirits were unavailing, and the sombre air which hung upon his countenance speedily spread along the gay ranks of the festive board, to the extinction of everything like mirth.In this state of things, the Earl speedily broke up the feast. He had serious thoughts of breaking up the tournament also, and these he privately communicated to his brother-in-law, the Earl of Fife; but that crafty politician objected to a measure which could only make his brother’s outrage the more talked of; and he had a still stronger reason in his own mind, for he did not wish to be deprived of the opportunity, afforded him by the tournament, of gaining over friends to the party he was forming to strengthen his own power. It was therefore finally determined that next day it should be solemnly proclaimed by the heralds.The Earl of Moray and his lady passed a sleepless night, turning in their minds how they could best repair the wrong done by their brother, the Wolfe of Badenoch. Early in the morning one of the Countess’s favourite damsels, Katherine Spears by name, came to beseech an audience of the Earl for her father, Rory Spears. There was nothing extraordinary in this request, for the Earl was so much the friend of his people that he was ever ready to lend an ear to the complaints of the meanest individual among them. The man who now craved an interview was an old partizan of the Earl’s, who had fought under his banner and at his back in many a battle, and who was employed in time of peace in hunting, hawking, and fishing.As the Earl had a peculiar regard for Rory Spears, the damsel was ordered to send him up immediately to a small turret room, where his Lordship usually received people in his rank of life. Rory’s heavy fishing boots were soon heard ascending the turret stair, and his bulky figure appeared, followed by a great rough allounde and one or two terriers. As Katherine showed him in, there was something peculiarly striking in the contrast between her sylphlike figure, delicate face, and ladylike air, and his Herculean mould and rough-hewn features, in which there was a strangely-mixed and contradictory expression of acuteness and simplicity, good nature, and sullen testiness. His huge shoulders had a natural bend forward, and a profusion of grizzled curls mingled in bushy luxuriance with the abundant produce of his cheeks, lips, and chin. On his head was a close red hood, that lay over his neck and back, and he wore a coarse grey woollen jerkin and hauselines, covered with an ample upper garment of the same materials, and of a form much resembling that constituting a part of the fisherman’s garb of[290]the present day. In one hand he brandished a long pole with a sharp iron hook at the end of it, the bend of the hook being projected into a long pike, and the whole so constructed as to be equally serviceable as a hunting-spear or as a fish-clip. He stooped yet more as he entered the low doorway of the turret room, and had no sooner established his thick-soled boots upon the floor than he made an obeisance to the Earl, with his cap under his arm.“What hath brought thee hither so early, friend Rory?” inquired the Earl.“In good sooth, my noble Lord, I did think that the Castle mought maybe be lacking provender, wi’ a’ thay knights, grandees, and lordlings ilka day in the hall, an’ so mony o’ their people in the kitchen, so I did gather some of the knaves with their horse beasts, and I hae brought thee ower six fat deer, some wild pollayle, and a dozen or twa o’ salmons, to help the buttery-man to fill his spense; ’tis no deaf nits, I rauken, that’ll fill sae mony mouths.”“I thank thee, Rory,” said the Earl; “it was indeed most considerate in thee; thy present is most welcome. How fares it with Alice, thy wife?”“Fu’ weel, my Lord Yearl,” replied Rory; “troth I see no complaints about the woman. And how’s a’ wi’ my Lady Countess?”“A little indisposed to-day, Rory,” replied the Earl gravely.“Fie, fie! I’m sorry for that,” said Rory; “I’se warrant feasting and galravaging mun agree but soberly wi’ her Ladyship’s honour. By St. Lowry, but I’m no that mokell the better for it mysel when I drink ower deep.”“Too much drink is certainly bad, Rory, though the Countess’s indisposition hath nothing of that in it,” replied the Earl smiling: “but a black-jack of ale can do thee but little harm of a morning, so get thee to the kitchen, that thou mayest have thy draught.”“Thanks, my most noble Yearl,” cried Rory; “a black-jack full of ale—nay, I spoke of gallons; it will take gallons to gi’ me an aching head, I promise thee; nay, one gallon, or twa gallons, peraunter, would do me but little harm. But that wasna just a’ my business, my Lord; I hae something mair to speak to thee about. Wasn’t thee wanting a cast o’ hawks?”“Yea, I did indeed much wish for some of these noble birds, the which our rocks are famed for rearing, good Rory,” replied the Earl. “The King hath heard of the excellence of our falcons, and I have promised to send him a cast of them.”[291]“Aweel, aweel, the King’s honour shanna want them an’ I can get a grup o’ them,” replied Spears; “and sae your Lordship may tell him frae me.”“Thanks, good Rory, for thy zeal,” replied the Earl; “get thee then to the kitchen, and have thy morning’s draught.”“But that was not just a’ that I had to say to thine honourable Lordship,” said Rory, still lingering.“I do opine that thou lackest advice and assistance in some little matter of thine own, friend Rory?” said the Earl smiling.“Troth, my noble Lord Yearl, thou art not far from the mark there; and yet it’s not just mine own matter neither, though some few years mought peraunter ha’ made it mine; but it’s nobody’s now but his who hath got it.”“Nay, now thou art somewhat mystical, Rory,” said the Earl; “come to the point at once, I pr’ythee, and effunde thy whole tale distinctly to me, for my time is rather precious this morning.”“The short and the long, then, of this matter, my Lord Yearl, is, that my wife’s mother hath been robbed of fifty broad pieces,” replied Rory.“What! old Elspeth of the Burgh? who can have done so foul a larcen?” demanded the Earl.“Ay, good my Lord, just our old mother Elspeth,” replied Spears. “The money was the hard earnings of her goodman, the smith, who, rest his soul, was a hard-working Christian, as thou mayest remember.”“And how did this wicked stouthrief happen?” inquired the Earl.“By the mass, I will tell thee as speedily as may be, my Lord,” replied Rory. “It was but the night before last, that is to say, the night o’ the brenning o’ theBurgh, that it did happen. The haflins lassie that looketh after old Lucky was sent out to bring her tidings o’ the fire. Thee knawest that the poor soul downa easily budge from eild; and as she did lig in her blankets she hearden a heavy foot in the place; and when she got up she did find the kist opened, and the old leathern purse with her money gone.”“’Tis a hard case, indeed,” said the Earl; “and hast thou any suspicions, Rory?”“Nay, for a matter o’ that, I hae my own thoughts,” replied Rory; “yet I canna say that I am just sicker anent it; but cannot thou do nought, my noble Yearl?”“Do thou use all thine ingenuity to find out the thief,” said the Earl; “I shall see what my people may be able to do to aid[292]thee; and if we discover the rogue, a court shall be summoned, and he shall straightway hang for his villainy.”“Thanks, my good Lord,” replied Rory, making his obeisance preparatory to departure; “verily I am much beholden to thee; but an’ we recover not the broad pieces, we shall gain little by the foiterer’s neck being lengthened; yet I’ll see what may be done to catch him.”“Do so, Rory,” said the Earl; “thou shalt have the aid of some of my people, and I do wish thee success.”
Sir Patrick Hepborne left the apartments of the Countess of Moray melancholy and unhappy. He retired to his own chamber, to ruminate on the ingratitude of his heartless page; and, when the hour of the banquet arrived, he went to the Hall of Randolph with a mind but little attuned to harmonize with its festivities. But it was more in unison with his feelings than he had anticipated. The Countess of Moray, who was by this time fully aware that the destructive fire of Forres had been kindled by her brother’s hand, was unable to appear; and her example was followed by most of the other ladies. The Earl of Fife, too, and several other nobles and knights, were absent. The Earl of Moray was indeed present; but he was there only in body, for his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. All his attempts to[289]rally his spirits were unavailing, and the sombre air which hung upon his countenance speedily spread along the gay ranks of the festive board, to the extinction of everything like mirth.
In this state of things, the Earl speedily broke up the feast. He had serious thoughts of breaking up the tournament also, and these he privately communicated to his brother-in-law, the Earl of Fife; but that crafty politician objected to a measure which could only make his brother’s outrage the more talked of; and he had a still stronger reason in his own mind, for he did not wish to be deprived of the opportunity, afforded him by the tournament, of gaining over friends to the party he was forming to strengthen his own power. It was therefore finally determined that next day it should be solemnly proclaimed by the heralds.
The Earl of Moray and his lady passed a sleepless night, turning in their minds how they could best repair the wrong done by their brother, the Wolfe of Badenoch. Early in the morning one of the Countess’s favourite damsels, Katherine Spears by name, came to beseech an audience of the Earl for her father, Rory Spears. There was nothing extraordinary in this request, for the Earl was so much the friend of his people that he was ever ready to lend an ear to the complaints of the meanest individual among them. The man who now craved an interview was an old partizan of the Earl’s, who had fought under his banner and at his back in many a battle, and who was employed in time of peace in hunting, hawking, and fishing.
As the Earl had a peculiar regard for Rory Spears, the damsel was ordered to send him up immediately to a small turret room, where his Lordship usually received people in his rank of life. Rory’s heavy fishing boots were soon heard ascending the turret stair, and his bulky figure appeared, followed by a great rough allounde and one or two terriers. As Katherine showed him in, there was something peculiarly striking in the contrast between her sylphlike figure, delicate face, and ladylike air, and his Herculean mould and rough-hewn features, in which there was a strangely-mixed and contradictory expression of acuteness and simplicity, good nature, and sullen testiness. His huge shoulders had a natural bend forward, and a profusion of grizzled curls mingled in bushy luxuriance with the abundant produce of his cheeks, lips, and chin. On his head was a close red hood, that lay over his neck and back, and he wore a coarse grey woollen jerkin and hauselines, covered with an ample upper garment of the same materials, and of a form much resembling that constituting a part of the fisherman’s garb of[290]the present day. In one hand he brandished a long pole with a sharp iron hook at the end of it, the bend of the hook being projected into a long pike, and the whole so constructed as to be equally serviceable as a hunting-spear or as a fish-clip. He stooped yet more as he entered the low doorway of the turret room, and had no sooner established his thick-soled boots upon the floor than he made an obeisance to the Earl, with his cap under his arm.
“What hath brought thee hither so early, friend Rory?” inquired the Earl.
“In good sooth, my noble Lord, I did think that the Castle mought maybe be lacking provender, wi’ a’ thay knights, grandees, and lordlings ilka day in the hall, an’ so mony o’ their people in the kitchen, so I did gather some of the knaves with their horse beasts, and I hae brought thee ower six fat deer, some wild pollayle, and a dozen or twa o’ salmons, to help the buttery-man to fill his spense; ’tis no deaf nits, I rauken, that’ll fill sae mony mouths.”
“I thank thee, Rory,” said the Earl; “it was indeed most considerate in thee; thy present is most welcome. How fares it with Alice, thy wife?”
“Fu’ weel, my Lord Yearl,” replied Rory; “troth I see no complaints about the woman. And how’s a’ wi’ my Lady Countess?”
“A little indisposed to-day, Rory,” replied the Earl gravely.
“Fie, fie! I’m sorry for that,” said Rory; “I’se warrant feasting and galravaging mun agree but soberly wi’ her Ladyship’s honour. By St. Lowry, but I’m no that mokell the better for it mysel when I drink ower deep.”
“Too much drink is certainly bad, Rory, though the Countess’s indisposition hath nothing of that in it,” replied the Earl smiling: “but a black-jack of ale can do thee but little harm of a morning, so get thee to the kitchen, that thou mayest have thy draught.”
“Thanks, my most noble Yearl,” cried Rory; “a black-jack full of ale—nay, I spoke of gallons; it will take gallons to gi’ me an aching head, I promise thee; nay, one gallon, or twa gallons, peraunter, would do me but little harm. But that wasna just a’ my business, my Lord; I hae something mair to speak to thee about. Wasn’t thee wanting a cast o’ hawks?”
“Yea, I did indeed much wish for some of these noble birds, the which our rocks are famed for rearing, good Rory,” replied the Earl. “The King hath heard of the excellence of our falcons, and I have promised to send him a cast of them.”[291]
“Aweel, aweel, the King’s honour shanna want them an’ I can get a grup o’ them,” replied Spears; “and sae your Lordship may tell him frae me.”
“Thanks, good Rory, for thy zeal,” replied the Earl; “get thee then to the kitchen, and have thy morning’s draught.”
“But that was not just a’ that I had to say to thine honourable Lordship,” said Rory, still lingering.
“I do opine that thou lackest advice and assistance in some little matter of thine own, friend Rory?” said the Earl smiling.
“Troth, my noble Lord Yearl, thou art not far from the mark there; and yet it’s not just mine own matter neither, though some few years mought peraunter ha’ made it mine; but it’s nobody’s now but his who hath got it.”
“Nay, now thou art somewhat mystical, Rory,” said the Earl; “come to the point at once, I pr’ythee, and effunde thy whole tale distinctly to me, for my time is rather precious this morning.”
“The short and the long, then, of this matter, my Lord Yearl, is, that my wife’s mother hath been robbed of fifty broad pieces,” replied Rory.
“What! old Elspeth of the Burgh? who can have done so foul a larcen?” demanded the Earl.
“Ay, good my Lord, just our old mother Elspeth,” replied Spears. “The money was the hard earnings of her goodman, the smith, who, rest his soul, was a hard-working Christian, as thou mayest remember.”
“And how did this wicked stouthrief happen?” inquired the Earl.
“By the mass, I will tell thee as speedily as may be, my Lord,” replied Rory. “It was but the night before last, that is to say, the night o’ the brenning o’ theBurgh, that it did happen. The haflins lassie that looketh after old Lucky was sent out to bring her tidings o’ the fire. Thee knawest that the poor soul downa easily budge from eild; and as she did lig in her blankets she hearden a heavy foot in the place; and when she got up she did find the kist opened, and the old leathern purse with her money gone.”
“’Tis a hard case, indeed,” said the Earl; “and hast thou any suspicions, Rory?”
“Nay, for a matter o’ that, I hae my own thoughts,” replied Rory; “yet I canna say that I am just sicker anent it; but cannot thou do nought, my noble Yearl?”
“Do thou use all thine ingenuity to find out the thief,” said the Earl; “I shall see what my people may be able to do to aid[292]thee; and if we discover the rogue, a court shall be summoned, and he shall straightway hang for his villainy.”
“Thanks, my good Lord,” replied Rory, making his obeisance preparatory to departure; “verily I am much beholden to thee; but an’ we recover not the broad pieces, we shall gain little by the foiterer’s neck being lengthened; yet I’ll see what may be done to catch him.”
“Do so, Rory,” said the Earl; “thou shalt have the aid of some of my people, and I do wish thee success.”