[Contents]CHAPTER XXXIV.The Wolfe of Badenoch and the Earl of Moray.The Wolfe of Badenoch having once made up his mind to accompany Sir Patrick Hepborne to the tournament of St. John’s, allowed but little time to be lost by his people in preparation; and his sons and their attendants, with his own splendid retinue, were speedily assembled on the lawn beyond the land sconce. Hepborne’s more moderate cortège was also quickly mustered there, and in less than an hour the two leaders were at the head of their united trains, marching off with bugles sounding, and banners and pennons flying.Leaving the lake by the same route by which Sir Patrick had approached it, they travelled northwards through the apparently ceaseless forest, that varied only in the undulations of the surface it grew upon, and in the trees it produced. The pines were very soon, in a great measure, exchanged for magnificent birches and oaks, spreading themselves far and wide over the country, and forming the vast forest of Drummyn. There they skirted the Findhorn, which thundered through the romantic chasm, yawning between confined and precipitous[252]crags, until they found themselves on the summit of a bold cliff overhanging the river, from the base of which it swept in one grand and broad line through the centre of a beautiful plain of about a mile in diameter, dividing it from south to north into two nearly equal parts. These were the Meads of St. John, and there the stream seemed gladly to slumber in a comparatively gentle current, after its boisterous and laborious passage downwards from its native mountains. Ledges of rock did indeed push themselves here and there from its enamelled margins, and served to diversify them, as did those groups of wide-spreading oaks of enormous growth, forming in most places a broad bowery fringe to either shore; but there was nothing to disturb the perfect continuity and level of the grassy surface of the meadows, except one or two bosky groves, carelessly planted by the hand of nature. The high banks retreating on both sides, to bend round and embrace the Meads, presented an irregularity of form and slope; while the forest, extending itself everywhere over the upper grounds, sent down some of its most magnificent representatives to grace their sides. About a mile or more to the left, perched on a gentle eminence, arose the venerable Castle of Tarnawa, looking far and wide over its woody domain. Towards the northern extremity of the Eastern Mead, stood the little chapel dedicated to St. John the Baptist, giving name to the lovely valley that now stretched in rich verdure beneath their eyes; and over the farther boundaries of the meadows appeared the fertile plain of Forres, the broad expanse of the Frith, and the distant mountain-range beyond.But these, the mere ordinary and permanent features of the scene, though exquisitely beautiful in themselves, were at this time rendered tenfold more interesting by the animation that everywhere pervaded the Meads of St. John, where the whole population of the North had assembled. Midway down the long stretch of the river was erected a wide bridge, formed of enormous pillars and beams of wood, intended to give temporary passage between the opposite banks during the ensuing sports; and it was spanned above by several triumphal arches, which people were then employed in decorating with boughs of holly and other evergreens. A promiscuous and motley assemblage of booths, tents, log-houses, and huts, in number beyond all possibility of reckoning, were seen scattered like a great irregular village all around the base of those semi-circular banks embracing the eastern side of the Meads. These fragile tenements were occupied by the populace not only of the neighbouring town and surrounding country, but by many who had come[253]from very distant parts of Scotland, some to establish a mart for their wares, others to exhibit feats of strength, or agility, or juggling, and the greater number, perhaps, to behold the spectacle, or assist in the labours incident to the preparation for it.The lists were then erecting in the centre of the eastern meadow, while, on the western side of the river, were observed a number of pavilions, within the recess of a beautiful glade retiring among the wooded banks. These were brought thither by knights who came to attend the tournament, the accommodations in the Castle being quite unequal for more than a chosen few. Such as were already erected had each a banner or pennon flying before it, and others were pitching with great expedition. In the midst of the whole was the pavilion of the Earl of Moray, of much greater magnitude than any of those around it, while his banner unfurled itself to the breeze from the top of a tall pine fixed in the ground for the purpose.Such were the most prominent objects, then, in the Meads of St. John; but the whole vale swarmed with living beings. Groups of men and horses were seen moving over it in all directions, and the very earth seemed in motion.“By the Holy Rood,” cried the Wolfe, “but it is a noble sight. Methinks my brother-in-law, Earl John, must have had his hands in the King’s purse ere he could have ventured on such a show as this. Come, Sir Patrick, let us hasten to see how things may be in the Castle.”They followed a steep and winding path that led them down through the wood into the valley below, and quickly crossed the level ground towards the bridge. This they found guarded by a strong party of spearmen and archers. The captain on duty came forward—“Sir Knights,” said he courteously, “so please ye to honour me with your names and titles, that they may be passed forward to the Earl’s pavilion for his inspection.”“Morte de ma vie,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch pettishly, “but this is ceremony with a vengeance. What! shall I not have liberty to approach me to mine own brother-in-law, until I shall have sent him my name! and am I, or is my horse, to be kept on the fret here until the return of a tardy messenger from yonder tents? What a fiend, dost thou not know me, Sir Captain? dost thou not know me for the Earl of Buchan?”“My Lord Earl,” replied the captain of the guard with perfect reverence, “I did indeed know the attence, but mine orders are so imperative, that albeit it doth indeed much erke[254]me to be so strict with thee, yet must I of needscost subject thee to the same rule that hath been laid down for all.”To prevent further words, Hepborne hastened to give his name and quality, and the number of his retinue, to the captain of the guard; and observing the growing impatience of the Wolfe, he managed to avert his coming wrath, by expressing a desire to ride towards the lists, to see what was going forward there, hoping that, by the time they had examined all the operations in progress, the passage of the bridge would be open to them.Having contrived to make the Wolfe waste nearly half-an-hour in this way, Hepborne returned with him to the bridge, where they were informed by the captain of the guard that the Earl of Moray was coming in person to meet them; and accordingly they beheld him riding across the bridge towards them, followed by an esquire and a very few attendants. He was unostentatiously dressed in a light hunting garb; his figure was middle-sized, his complexion fair, and his countenance fresh, round, and of a mild expression.His horse’s hoofs had no sooner touched the sod of the meadow than he dismounted, and giving the rein to his esquire, advanced to meet his brother-in-law. The Wolfe of Badenoch leaped from his saddle, and moving one step forward, stood to receive him. Sir Patrick Hepborne and the five Stewarts having also dismounted, were at his back.“Brother,” said the Wolfe, after their first salutations were over, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne.”“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl graciously, “I rejoice to see thee here; welcome to thy country, and to these my domains; I regret to understand that I must cast away all hope of seeing thine honoured father upon this occasion, and I yet more grieve at the cause of his present unfitness for mixing in sports in which he was wont to shine as a bright star. Nevoys,” continued he, saluting Sir Alexander Stewart and his brothers, “I rejoice to behold ye thus waxing so stout; an ye thrive thus, even the very youngest of ye will soon be well able to bear a shock. What sayest thou, Duncan, my boy? Your pardon, Sir Patrick, for a moment, but I must speak a little aside here with my brother, the noble Earl of Buchan; I shall be entirely at thy command anon.”The two Earls retired a few paces to one side, and Moray’s face assuming an air of great seriousness, he began to talk in an under tone to the Wolfe of Badenoch, whose brow, as he listened, gathered clouds and storms, which went on blackening and[255]ruffling it, until at length he burst out into one of his ungovernable furies.“Ha! by the beard of my grandfather, and dost thou think that I care the value of a cross-bow bolt for the split-crowned magpie?” cried he. “Excommunicate me! and what harm, I pr’ythee, will his excommunication do me? But, by’r Lady, he shall suffer for it. He has already had a small spice of what the Wolfe of Badenoch can do when he is roused, and, by all the fiends, he shall know more on’t ere long.”“Talk not so loud and vehemently, I beseech thee, brother,” said the Earl of Moray; “publish not the matter thus.”“Nay, but I will tell it,” roared out the Wolfe; “I will publish the insolence of this scoundrel Bishop to the whole world. What think ye,” continued he, turning round to his sons and Sir Patrick—“what think ye of the consummate impudence of the rascally Alexander Barr? He hath dared to void his impotent curse on the Earl of Buchan and Ross—on the son of the King of Scotland—on the Wolfe of Badenoch. My brother here, the Earl of Moray, hath just had an especial messenger from the croaking carrion, to tell him the news of my excommunication; but the red fiend catch me, an I do not make him rue that he ever told the tale beyond his own crowing rookery. Ha! let us to the Castle, brother—let us to my sister Margery, I say. Depardieux, but thou shalt see that the hypocritical knave’s anathema shall be but as seasoning to my food. Trust me, I shall not eat or drink one tithe the less of thy good cheer for it.”“Most noble Earl of Buchan, and my most excellent brother,” said the Earl of Moray, with a hesitating and perplexed air, “it erketh me sore—it giveth me, as thou mayest readily believe, extreme grief—to be compelled to tell thee that I cannot with propriety receive thee at present among the nobles who now house them within my walls, nor would the heralds admit of thy presence at the ensuing tournament, whilst thou liggest under the bann of the Holy Church, even were I bold enough to risk for thee the Church’s displeasure against me and mine. Let me, then, I pray thee, have weight with thee so far as to persuade thee to ride straightway to Elgin, to make thy peace with the Bishop. Much as I have on my hands at the present time, verily I will not scruple to haste thither with thee, if thou dost think that I mought in any manner of way further an accommodation, so that this dread reproach may be forthwith removed from off thee. We can then return together speedily, ere yet the matter shall have been bruited abroad (for, so far as I am[256]concerned, it is as yet a secret); and thou shalt then, much to my joy and honour, take thy due and proper place by the side of thy brother Robert, Earl of Fife and Menteith, at the head of mine illustrious guests, and——”“Ha! what!” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch in a fury; “thinkest thou that I will hie me straight, to lout myself low, and to lick the dust before the feet of that lorel Bishop, who hath had the surquedrie to dare thus to insult me? By my trusty burly-brand, I shall take other means of settling accounts between us. But methinks he is right hasty in his traffic. No sooner have I settled one score with him, than he runs me up another in the twinkling of an eye. But, by all the furies, he shall find that I shall pay him off roundly, and score him up double on my side. And so, brother, thou dost think that I carry such leprous contamination about my person, as may altogether unfit me for the purity of thy virtuous house? Gramercy for thy courtesy! But by the Rood, I do believe that something else lurketh under all these pretences. Thou hast seen my dotard father the King lately; thou hast held council with him I ween; and, I trow, my interests have not been furthered by the advices thou hast whispered in the Royal ear. I still lack the best cantle of my Lieutenantship in lacking Moray Land, and a bird hath whistled me that John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, hath not been backward in urging the monarch to refuse it to me. If this be so, Brother Earl——”“I swear by my knighthood,” cried the Earl of Moray earnestly interrupting him, and speaking at once with calmness and firmness—“I swear by my knighthood, that whoso hath told thee this, hath told thee a black falsehood; and I gage mine honour to throw the lie in his teeth, and to defy him to mortal debate, should it so please thee to yield me his name.”“Well spoken, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, apparently satisfied with the solemnity of the Earl of Moray’s denial. “But thou art pretty safe in thy darreigne; I did but suspect thee, and, in sooth, appearances were infernally against thee. But I must take it upon thy word and abide the event. Yet do I know of a truth that thou wert with the King——”“That do I most readily confess,” replied the Earl of Moray mildly. “I did indeed journey to Scone on my private affairs, and, among other things, to crave His Majesty’s gracious permission to hold this same tourney, and to petition for his royal presence here. But State reasons, or infirmity, or perhaps both causes conjoined, keep him back from us; nathless he hath sent his banner hither to wave over the lists, to show that at least[257]we have his royal good-will with us. I most solemnly vow that I did never meddle or make with the King in any matter of thine.”“The red fiend ride me then,” cried the Wolfe hastily, “but thy reception of me hath been something of the coolest. Methinks that, putting myself in thy case, and thee in mine, I should for thee have defied all the lorel coistrils that ever carried crosier. Ha! by’r Lady, ’tis indeed a precious tale to tell, that the Earl of Buchan was refused herborow within the Castle of his brother of Moray.”“Again I repeat that it doleth me sore,” said the Earl of Moray, “that I should be compelled to put on the semblance of inhospitality, and, above all, towards thee, my Lord of Buchan, with whom I am so nearly and dearly allied. But in this case, were I even to set the Bishop’s threats at defiance in order to receive thee, thou must be aware that it would only expose thee to certain disgrace; for, of a truth, thy presence would quickly clear my hall of all the noble guests who are to feast within its walls. Would, then, that I could incline thee to follow my counsel, and that thou wouldst be content to ride with me to Elgin, to appease the Bishop’s wrath, that he may remove his Episcopal curse. We should be back here long ere cock-crow, and——”“Thou hast had my mind on that head already, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, interrupting him, in a rage. “By the mass, but it is a cheap thing for thee to make trade and chevisaunce of another’s pride; but, by the blood of the Bruce, I promise thee, I shall give up no title of mine to swell that of the lossel drone of a Bishop; so make thyself easy on that score. What! to be trampled on by a walthsome massmonger, and then to go cap-in-hand, that he may put his plebeian foot on my neck! My horse there—my horse, I say. What stand the knaves staring for? I bid thee goode’en, my Lord of Moray. I’ll to Forres then, to inn me, sith I may not put my leprous hide within thy pure and unsullied walls. God be with thee, Sir Patrick Hepborne;” and so saying he sprang into his saddle.“But,” said the Earl of Moray, “though I cannot receive thee at present, my Lord of Buchan, I shall be right glad to do all the honour I may to Sir Alexander Stewart and the rest of my nevoys.”“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” cried the proud and fierce Sir Alexander; “sith thou dost hold my father as a polluted and pestilential guest, thou shalt have none of my company, I promise thee.”[258]“Ha! well said, son Alexander,” shouted the Wolfe joyously; “well said, my brave boy; by my beard, but thou hast spoken bravely. To Forres then, my merry men.”And without abiding farther parlance, the hasty Wolfe of Badenoch, with Sir Alexander and the younger Stewarts, rode off at a hand-gallop, followed by their retinue. Sir Andrew, however, remained quietly behind, and manifested no inclination to accompany his father.“And now, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said the Earl of Moray, “I have to crave thy pardon for having been thus so long neglectful of thee on a first meeting; but, I trow, I need hardly apologise, since thou hast thyself seen and heard enow, I ween, to plead my excuse with thee. This matter hath in very sooth most grievously affected me. It hath truly given me more teene and vexation than I can well tell thee. But I shall to Forres by times i’ the morning, and then essay to soothe my Lord of Buchan into greater moderation and a more reasonable temper than he hath just displayed. Meanwhile the Countess Margery doth abide for us in the pavilion. Let us then hasten thither, so please thee, for she will not leave it to go to the Castle until I rejoin her, and verily it waxeth late, and the nobles and barons will ere this be assembling in Randolph’s Hall.”The Earl now led the way across the bridge, and thence towards the pavilions. As they approached the great one, before which his banner was displayed, a group of squires, grooms, and caparisoned palfreys appeared promenading in front of it.“Yea, I see that her palfrey is ready,” said the Earl; “nay, yonder she issues forth to meet us.”He dismounted, and Hepborne, following his example, was straightway introduced by him to the Countess, who received him with great kindness and courtesy.“Nevoy,” said she to Sir Andrew Stewart, who approached to salute her, “I do most sincerely grieve at the cause of my brother the Earl of Buchan’s absence. I hope, however, it will be but short, sith I trust the holy Bishop Barr will not be inexorable, and that thy father will join our festivities ere long. But where are thy brethren?”“We shall talk of that anon,” said the Earl, wishing to get rid of an unpleasant subject; “meanwhile let us not lose time, for it waxeth late, and our presence at the Castle is doubtless looked for ere now. Get thee to horse, then, my sweet lady spouse, with what haste thou mayest.”Hepborne advanced and gave his arm to the Countess, and[259]having assisted her into her saddle, the whole party mounted to accompany her to Tarnawa. During their short ride through the forest, Hepborne enjoyed enough of the conversation of the Earl and Countess to give him a very favourable impression of both. The lady, in particular, showed so much sweetness of disposition that he could not help contrasting her in his own mind with her brother, the savage and ferocious Wolfe, to make up whose fiery and intemperate character to its full strength, Nature seemed to have robbed her soft and peaceful soul of every spark of violence that might have otherwise fallen to its share in the original mixture of its elements. Sound reason and good sense, indeed, seemed in her to be united with a most winning kindness and sweetness of manner, and it was quite a refreshment to Sir Patrick to meet with society so tranquil and rational after that of the ever-raging and tempestuous spirits with whom he had been lately consorting. The Countess failed not to notice the handsome page, Maurice de Grey; but her attentions to him were of a very different description from those of the Lady Mariota Athyn, which had so afflicted him at Lochyndorbe. She spoke to him with gentleness, and having been made aware of his family and history by Hepborne, manifested the interest she took in the boy in a manner so delicate that he was already disposed to cling to her as willingly as he had before wished to avoid the Lady Mariota.As they approached the straggling hamlet, through which lay the immediate approach to the Castle, its inhabitants, as well as the peasants from the neighbouring cottages, were collected together. Men, women, and children came crowding about them for the mere pleasure of beholding the Earl and his Countess, and the grateful hearts of these poor creatures burst forth in showers of blessings on the heads of their benefactors.“God bless the noble pair!”—“There they come, God bless them!”—“May the blessing of St. Andrew—may the holy Virgin’s choicest blessings be about them!”—“What should we poor folk do an ’twere na for them?”—“What should we do if anything should come over them?”—“Heaven preserve their precious lives?”—“May Heaven long spare them to be a comfort and a defence to us all!”—“God bless the noble Earl, and Heaven’s richest blessings be showered on the angel Countess!”Such was the abundant and gratifying reward these noble and generous hearts received for well fulfilling the duties of the high station their lot had placed them in. They replied graciously to those simple but sincere benisons, and though in haste, the Countess more than once reined up her palfrey as she[260]passed along the lane they opened for her, to make inquiries after the complaints, distresses, and wants of particular individuals; and where the matter admitted of her relief, she failed not to give an order to attend at the Castle at her daily hour of audience.
[Contents]CHAPTER XXXIV.The Wolfe of Badenoch and the Earl of Moray.The Wolfe of Badenoch having once made up his mind to accompany Sir Patrick Hepborne to the tournament of St. John’s, allowed but little time to be lost by his people in preparation; and his sons and their attendants, with his own splendid retinue, were speedily assembled on the lawn beyond the land sconce. Hepborne’s more moderate cortège was also quickly mustered there, and in less than an hour the two leaders were at the head of their united trains, marching off with bugles sounding, and banners and pennons flying.Leaving the lake by the same route by which Sir Patrick had approached it, they travelled northwards through the apparently ceaseless forest, that varied only in the undulations of the surface it grew upon, and in the trees it produced. The pines were very soon, in a great measure, exchanged for magnificent birches and oaks, spreading themselves far and wide over the country, and forming the vast forest of Drummyn. There they skirted the Findhorn, which thundered through the romantic chasm, yawning between confined and precipitous[252]crags, until they found themselves on the summit of a bold cliff overhanging the river, from the base of which it swept in one grand and broad line through the centre of a beautiful plain of about a mile in diameter, dividing it from south to north into two nearly equal parts. These were the Meads of St. John, and there the stream seemed gladly to slumber in a comparatively gentle current, after its boisterous and laborious passage downwards from its native mountains. Ledges of rock did indeed push themselves here and there from its enamelled margins, and served to diversify them, as did those groups of wide-spreading oaks of enormous growth, forming in most places a broad bowery fringe to either shore; but there was nothing to disturb the perfect continuity and level of the grassy surface of the meadows, except one or two bosky groves, carelessly planted by the hand of nature. The high banks retreating on both sides, to bend round and embrace the Meads, presented an irregularity of form and slope; while the forest, extending itself everywhere over the upper grounds, sent down some of its most magnificent representatives to grace their sides. About a mile or more to the left, perched on a gentle eminence, arose the venerable Castle of Tarnawa, looking far and wide over its woody domain. Towards the northern extremity of the Eastern Mead, stood the little chapel dedicated to St. John the Baptist, giving name to the lovely valley that now stretched in rich verdure beneath their eyes; and over the farther boundaries of the meadows appeared the fertile plain of Forres, the broad expanse of the Frith, and the distant mountain-range beyond.But these, the mere ordinary and permanent features of the scene, though exquisitely beautiful in themselves, were at this time rendered tenfold more interesting by the animation that everywhere pervaded the Meads of St. John, where the whole population of the North had assembled. Midway down the long stretch of the river was erected a wide bridge, formed of enormous pillars and beams of wood, intended to give temporary passage between the opposite banks during the ensuing sports; and it was spanned above by several triumphal arches, which people were then employed in decorating with boughs of holly and other evergreens. A promiscuous and motley assemblage of booths, tents, log-houses, and huts, in number beyond all possibility of reckoning, were seen scattered like a great irregular village all around the base of those semi-circular banks embracing the eastern side of the Meads. These fragile tenements were occupied by the populace not only of the neighbouring town and surrounding country, but by many who had come[253]from very distant parts of Scotland, some to establish a mart for their wares, others to exhibit feats of strength, or agility, or juggling, and the greater number, perhaps, to behold the spectacle, or assist in the labours incident to the preparation for it.The lists were then erecting in the centre of the eastern meadow, while, on the western side of the river, were observed a number of pavilions, within the recess of a beautiful glade retiring among the wooded banks. These were brought thither by knights who came to attend the tournament, the accommodations in the Castle being quite unequal for more than a chosen few. Such as were already erected had each a banner or pennon flying before it, and others were pitching with great expedition. In the midst of the whole was the pavilion of the Earl of Moray, of much greater magnitude than any of those around it, while his banner unfurled itself to the breeze from the top of a tall pine fixed in the ground for the purpose.Such were the most prominent objects, then, in the Meads of St. John; but the whole vale swarmed with living beings. Groups of men and horses were seen moving over it in all directions, and the very earth seemed in motion.“By the Holy Rood,” cried the Wolfe, “but it is a noble sight. Methinks my brother-in-law, Earl John, must have had his hands in the King’s purse ere he could have ventured on such a show as this. Come, Sir Patrick, let us hasten to see how things may be in the Castle.”They followed a steep and winding path that led them down through the wood into the valley below, and quickly crossed the level ground towards the bridge. This they found guarded by a strong party of spearmen and archers. The captain on duty came forward—“Sir Knights,” said he courteously, “so please ye to honour me with your names and titles, that they may be passed forward to the Earl’s pavilion for his inspection.”“Morte de ma vie,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch pettishly, “but this is ceremony with a vengeance. What! shall I not have liberty to approach me to mine own brother-in-law, until I shall have sent him my name! and am I, or is my horse, to be kept on the fret here until the return of a tardy messenger from yonder tents? What a fiend, dost thou not know me, Sir Captain? dost thou not know me for the Earl of Buchan?”“My Lord Earl,” replied the captain of the guard with perfect reverence, “I did indeed know the attence, but mine orders are so imperative, that albeit it doth indeed much erke[254]me to be so strict with thee, yet must I of needscost subject thee to the same rule that hath been laid down for all.”To prevent further words, Hepborne hastened to give his name and quality, and the number of his retinue, to the captain of the guard; and observing the growing impatience of the Wolfe, he managed to avert his coming wrath, by expressing a desire to ride towards the lists, to see what was going forward there, hoping that, by the time they had examined all the operations in progress, the passage of the bridge would be open to them.Having contrived to make the Wolfe waste nearly half-an-hour in this way, Hepborne returned with him to the bridge, where they were informed by the captain of the guard that the Earl of Moray was coming in person to meet them; and accordingly they beheld him riding across the bridge towards them, followed by an esquire and a very few attendants. He was unostentatiously dressed in a light hunting garb; his figure was middle-sized, his complexion fair, and his countenance fresh, round, and of a mild expression.His horse’s hoofs had no sooner touched the sod of the meadow than he dismounted, and giving the rein to his esquire, advanced to meet his brother-in-law. The Wolfe of Badenoch leaped from his saddle, and moving one step forward, stood to receive him. Sir Patrick Hepborne and the five Stewarts having also dismounted, were at his back.“Brother,” said the Wolfe, after their first salutations were over, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne.”“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl graciously, “I rejoice to see thee here; welcome to thy country, and to these my domains; I regret to understand that I must cast away all hope of seeing thine honoured father upon this occasion, and I yet more grieve at the cause of his present unfitness for mixing in sports in which he was wont to shine as a bright star. Nevoys,” continued he, saluting Sir Alexander Stewart and his brothers, “I rejoice to behold ye thus waxing so stout; an ye thrive thus, even the very youngest of ye will soon be well able to bear a shock. What sayest thou, Duncan, my boy? Your pardon, Sir Patrick, for a moment, but I must speak a little aside here with my brother, the noble Earl of Buchan; I shall be entirely at thy command anon.”The two Earls retired a few paces to one side, and Moray’s face assuming an air of great seriousness, he began to talk in an under tone to the Wolfe of Badenoch, whose brow, as he listened, gathered clouds and storms, which went on blackening and[255]ruffling it, until at length he burst out into one of his ungovernable furies.“Ha! by the beard of my grandfather, and dost thou think that I care the value of a cross-bow bolt for the split-crowned magpie?” cried he. “Excommunicate me! and what harm, I pr’ythee, will his excommunication do me? But, by’r Lady, he shall suffer for it. He has already had a small spice of what the Wolfe of Badenoch can do when he is roused, and, by all the fiends, he shall know more on’t ere long.”“Talk not so loud and vehemently, I beseech thee, brother,” said the Earl of Moray; “publish not the matter thus.”“Nay, but I will tell it,” roared out the Wolfe; “I will publish the insolence of this scoundrel Bishop to the whole world. What think ye,” continued he, turning round to his sons and Sir Patrick—“what think ye of the consummate impudence of the rascally Alexander Barr? He hath dared to void his impotent curse on the Earl of Buchan and Ross—on the son of the King of Scotland—on the Wolfe of Badenoch. My brother here, the Earl of Moray, hath just had an especial messenger from the croaking carrion, to tell him the news of my excommunication; but the red fiend catch me, an I do not make him rue that he ever told the tale beyond his own crowing rookery. Ha! let us to the Castle, brother—let us to my sister Margery, I say. Depardieux, but thou shalt see that the hypocritical knave’s anathema shall be but as seasoning to my food. Trust me, I shall not eat or drink one tithe the less of thy good cheer for it.”“Most noble Earl of Buchan, and my most excellent brother,” said the Earl of Moray, with a hesitating and perplexed air, “it erketh me sore—it giveth me, as thou mayest readily believe, extreme grief—to be compelled to tell thee that I cannot with propriety receive thee at present among the nobles who now house them within my walls, nor would the heralds admit of thy presence at the ensuing tournament, whilst thou liggest under the bann of the Holy Church, even were I bold enough to risk for thee the Church’s displeasure against me and mine. Let me, then, I pray thee, have weight with thee so far as to persuade thee to ride straightway to Elgin, to make thy peace with the Bishop. Much as I have on my hands at the present time, verily I will not scruple to haste thither with thee, if thou dost think that I mought in any manner of way further an accommodation, so that this dread reproach may be forthwith removed from off thee. We can then return together speedily, ere yet the matter shall have been bruited abroad (for, so far as I am[256]concerned, it is as yet a secret); and thou shalt then, much to my joy and honour, take thy due and proper place by the side of thy brother Robert, Earl of Fife and Menteith, at the head of mine illustrious guests, and——”“Ha! what!” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch in a fury; “thinkest thou that I will hie me straight, to lout myself low, and to lick the dust before the feet of that lorel Bishop, who hath had the surquedrie to dare thus to insult me? By my trusty burly-brand, I shall take other means of settling accounts between us. But methinks he is right hasty in his traffic. No sooner have I settled one score with him, than he runs me up another in the twinkling of an eye. But, by all the furies, he shall find that I shall pay him off roundly, and score him up double on my side. And so, brother, thou dost think that I carry such leprous contamination about my person, as may altogether unfit me for the purity of thy virtuous house? Gramercy for thy courtesy! But by the Rood, I do believe that something else lurketh under all these pretences. Thou hast seen my dotard father the King lately; thou hast held council with him I ween; and, I trow, my interests have not been furthered by the advices thou hast whispered in the Royal ear. I still lack the best cantle of my Lieutenantship in lacking Moray Land, and a bird hath whistled me that John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, hath not been backward in urging the monarch to refuse it to me. If this be so, Brother Earl——”“I swear by my knighthood,” cried the Earl of Moray earnestly interrupting him, and speaking at once with calmness and firmness—“I swear by my knighthood, that whoso hath told thee this, hath told thee a black falsehood; and I gage mine honour to throw the lie in his teeth, and to defy him to mortal debate, should it so please thee to yield me his name.”“Well spoken, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, apparently satisfied with the solemnity of the Earl of Moray’s denial. “But thou art pretty safe in thy darreigne; I did but suspect thee, and, in sooth, appearances were infernally against thee. But I must take it upon thy word and abide the event. Yet do I know of a truth that thou wert with the King——”“That do I most readily confess,” replied the Earl of Moray mildly. “I did indeed journey to Scone on my private affairs, and, among other things, to crave His Majesty’s gracious permission to hold this same tourney, and to petition for his royal presence here. But State reasons, or infirmity, or perhaps both causes conjoined, keep him back from us; nathless he hath sent his banner hither to wave over the lists, to show that at least[257]we have his royal good-will with us. I most solemnly vow that I did never meddle or make with the King in any matter of thine.”“The red fiend ride me then,” cried the Wolfe hastily, “but thy reception of me hath been something of the coolest. Methinks that, putting myself in thy case, and thee in mine, I should for thee have defied all the lorel coistrils that ever carried crosier. Ha! by’r Lady, ’tis indeed a precious tale to tell, that the Earl of Buchan was refused herborow within the Castle of his brother of Moray.”“Again I repeat that it doleth me sore,” said the Earl of Moray, “that I should be compelled to put on the semblance of inhospitality, and, above all, towards thee, my Lord of Buchan, with whom I am so nearly and dearly allied. But in this case, were I even to set the Bishop’s threats at defiance in order to receive thee, thou must be aware that it would only expose thee to certain disgrace; for, of a truth, thy presence would quickly clear my hall of all the noble guests who are to feast within its walls. Would, then, that I could incline thee to follow my counsel, and that thou wouldst be content to ride with me to Elgin, to appease the Bishop’s wrath, that he may remove his Episcopal curse. We should be back here long ere cock-crow, and——”“Thou hast had my mind on that head already, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, interrupting him, in a rage. “By the mass, but it is a cheap thing for thee to make trade and chevisaunce of another’s pride; but, by the blood of the Bruce, I promise thee, I shall give up no title of mine to swell that of the lossel drone of a Bishop; so make thyself easy on that score. What! to be trampled on by a walthsome massmonger, and then to go cap-in-hand, that he may put his plebeian foot on my neck! My horse there—my horse, I say. What stand the knaves staring for? I bid thee goode’en, my Lord of Moray. I’ll to Forres then, to inn me, sith I may not put my leprous hide within thy pure and unsullied walls. God be with thee, Sir Patrick Hepborne;” and so saying he sprang into his saddle.“But,” said the Earl of Moray, “though I cannot receive thee at present, my Lord of Buchan, I shall be right glad to do all the honour I may to Sir Alexander Stewart and the rest of my nevoys.”“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” cried the proud and fierce Sir Alexander; “sith thou dost hold my father as a polluted and pestilential guest, thou shalt have none of my company, I promise thee.”[258]“Ha! well said, son Alexander,” shouted the Wolfe joyously; “well said, my brave boy; by my beard, but thou hast spoken bravely. To Forres then, my merry men.”And without abiding farther parlance, the hasty Wolfe of Badenoch, with Sir Alexander and the younger Stewarts, rode off at a hand-gallop, followed by their retinue. Sir Andrew, however, remained quietly behind, and manifested no inclination to accompany his father.“And now, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said the Earl of Moray, “I have to crave thy pardon for having been thus so long neglectful of thee on a first meeting; but, I trow, I need hardly apologise, since thou hast thyself seen and heard enow, I ween, to plead my excuse with thee. This matter hath in very sooth most grievously affected me. It hath truly given me more teene and vexation than I can well tell thee. But I shall to Forres by times i’ the morning, and then essay to soothe my Lord of Buchan into greater moderation and a more reasonable temper than he hath just displayed. Meanwhile the Countess Margery doth abide for us in the pavilion. Let us then hasten thither, so please thee, for she will not leave it to go to the Castle until I rejoin her, and verily it waxeth late, and the nobles and barons will ere this be assembling in Randolph’s Hall.”The Earl now led the way across the bridge, and thence towards the pavilions. As they approached the great one, before which his banner was displayed, a group of squires, grooms, and caparisoned palfreys appeared promenading in front of it.“Yea, I see that her palfrey is ready,” said the Earl; “nay, yonder she issues forth to meet us.”He dismounted, and Hepborne, following his example, was straightway introduced by him to the Countess, who received him with great kindness and courtesy.“Nevoy,” said she to Sir Andrew Stewart, who approached to salute her, “I do most sincerely grieve at the cause of my brother the Earl of Buchan’s absence. I hope, however, it will be but short, sith I trust the holy Bishop Barr will not be inexorable, and that thy father will join our festivities ere long. But where are thy brethren?”“We shall talk of that anon,” said the Earl, wishing to get rid of an unpleasant subject; “meanwhile let us not lose time, for it waxeth late, and our presence at the Castle is doubtless looked for ere now. Get thee to horse, then, my sweet lady spouse, with what haste thou mayest.”Hepborne advanced and gave his arm to the Countess, and[259]having assisted her into her saddle, the whole party mounted to accompany her to Tarnawa. During their short ride through the forest, Hepborne enjoyed enough of the conversation of the Earl and Countess to give him a very favourable impression of both. The lady, in particular, showed so much sweetness of disposition that he could not help contrasting her in his own mind with her brother, the savage and ferocious Wolfe, to make up whose fiery and intemperate character to its full strength, Nature seemed to have robbed her soft and peaceful soul of every spark of violence that might have otherwise fallen to its share in the original mixture of its elements. Sound reason and good sense, indeed, seemed in her to be united with a most winning kindness and sweetness of manner, and it was quite a refreshment to Sir Patrick to meet with society so tranquil and rational after that of the ever-raging and tempestuous spirits with whom he had been lately consorting. The Countess failed not to notice the handsome page, Maurice de Grey; but her attentions to him were of a very different description from those of the Lady Mariota Athyn, which had so afflicted him at Lochyndorbe. She spoke to him with gentleness, and having been made aware of his family and history by Hepborne, manifested the interest she took in the boy in a manner so delicate that he was already disposed to cling to her as willingly as he had before wished to avoid the Lady Mariota.As they approached the straggling hamlet, through which lay the immediate approach to the Castle, its inhabitants, as well as the peasants from the neighbouring cottages, were collected together. Men, women, and children came crowding about them for the mere pleasure of beholding the Earl and his Countess, and the grateful hearts of these poor creatures burst forth in showers of blessings on the heads of their benefactors.“God bless the noble pair!”—“There they come, God bless them!”—“May the blessing of St. Andrew—may the holy Virgin’s choicest blessings be about them!”—“What should we poor folk do an ’twere na for them?”—“What should we do if anything should come over them?”—“Heaven preserve their precious lives?”—“May Heaven long spare them to be a comfort and a defence to us all!”—“God bless the noble Earl, and Heaven’s richest blessings be showered on the angel Countess!”Such was the abundant and gratifying reward these noble and generous hearts received for well fulfilling the duties of the high station their lot had placed them in. They replied graciously to those simple but sincere benisons, and though in haste, the Countess more than once reined up her palfrey as she[260]passed along the lane they opened for her, to make inquiries after the complaints, distresses, and wants of particular individuals; and where the matter admitted of her relief, she failed not to give an order to attend at the Castle at her daily hour of audience.
CHAPTER XXXIV.The Wolfe of Badenoch and the Earl of Moray.
The Wolfe of Badenoch and the Earl of Moray.
The Wolfe of Badenoch and the Earl of Moray.
The Wolfe of Badenoch having once made up his mind to accompany Sir Patrick Hepborne to the tournament of St. John’s, allowed but little time to be lost by his people in preparation; and his sons and their attendants, with his own splendid retinue, were speedily assembled on the lawn beyond the land sconce. Hepborne’s more moderate cortège was also quickly mustered there, and in less than an hour the two leaders were at the head of their united trains, marching off with bugles sounding, and banners and pennons flying.Leaving the lake by the same route by which Sir Patrick had approached it, they travelled northwards through the apparently ceaseless forest, that varied only in the undulations of the surface it grew upon, and in the trees it produced. The pines were very soon, in a great measure, exchanged for magnificent birches and oaks, spreading themselves far and wide over the country, and forming the vast forest of Drummyn. There they skirted the Findhorn, which thundered through the romantic chasm, yawning between confined and precipitous[252]crags, until they found themselves on the summit of a bold cliff overhanging the river, from the base of which it swept in one grand and broad line through the centre of a beautiful plain of about a mile in diameter, dividing it from south to north into two nearly equal parts. These were the Meads of St. John, and there the stream seemed gladly to slumber in a comparatively gentle current, after its boisterous and laborious passage downwards from its native mountains. Ledges of rock did indeed push themselves here and there from its enamelled margins, and served to diversify them, as did those groups of wide-spreading oaks of enormous growth, forming in most places a broad bowery fringe to either shore; but there was nothing to disturb the perfect continuity and level of the grassy surface of the meadows, except one or two bosky groves, carelessly planted by the hand of nature. The high banks retreating on both sides, to bend round and embrace the Meads, presented an irregularity of form and slope; while the forest, extending itself everywhere over the upper grounds, sent down some of its most magnificent representatives to grace their sides. About a mile or more to the left, perched on a gentle eminence, arose the venerable Castle of Tarnawa, looking far and wide over its woody domain. Towards the northern extremity of the Eastern Mead, stood the little chapel dedicated to St. John the Baptist, giving name to the lovely valley that now stretched in rich verdure beneath their eyes; and over the farther boundaries of the meadows appeared the fertile plain of Forres, the broad expanse of the Frith, and the distant mountain-range beyond.But these, the mere ordinary and permanent features of the scene, though exquisitely beautiful in themselves, were at this time rendered tenfold more interesting by the animation that everywhere pervaded the Meads of St. John, where the whole population of the North had assembled. Midway down the long stretch of the river was erected a wide bridge, formed of enormous pillars and beams of wood, intended to give temporary passage between the opposite banks during the ensuing sports; and it was spanned above by several triumphal arches, which people were then employed in decorating with boughs of holly and other evergreens. A promiscuous and motley assemblage of booths, tents, log-houses, and huts, in number beyond all possibility of reckoning, were seen scattered like a great irregular village all around the base of those semi-circular banks embracing the eastern side of the Meads. These fragile tenements were occupied by the populace not only of the neighbouring town and surrounding country, but by many who had come[253]from very distant parts of Scotland, some to establish a mart for their wares, others to exhibit feats of strength, or agility, or juggling, and the greater number, perhaps, to behold the spectacle, or assist in the labours incident to the preparation for it.The lists were then erecting in the centre of the eastern meadow, while, on the western side of the river, were observed a number of pavilions, within the recess of a beautiful glade retiring among the wooded banks. These were brought thither by knights who came to attend the tournament, the accommodations in the Castle being quite unequal for more than a chosen few. Such as were already erected had each a banner or pennon flying before it, and others were pitching with great expedition. In the midst of the whole was the pavilion of the Earl of Moray, of much greater magnitude than any of those around it, while his banner unfurled itself to the breeze from the top of a tall pine fixed in the ground for the purpose.Such were the most prominent objects, then, in the Meads of St. John; but the whole vale swarmed with living beings. Groups of men and horses were seen moving over it in all directions, and the very earth seemed in motion.“By the Holy Rood,” cried the Wolfe, “but it is a noble sight. Methinks my brother-in-law, Earl John, must have had his hands in the King’s purse ere he could have ventured on such a show as this. Come, Sir Patrick, let us hasten to see how things may be in the Castle.”They followed a steep and winding path that led them down through the wood into the valley below, and quickly crossed the level ground towards the bridge. This they found guarded by a strong party of spearmen and archers. The captain on duty came forward—“Sir Knights,” said he courteously, “so please ye to honour me with your names and titles, that they may be passed forward to the Earl’s pavilion for his inspection.”“Morte de ma vie,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch pettishly, “but this is ceremony with a vengeance. What! shall I not have liberty to approach me to mine own brother-in-law, until I shall have sent him my name! and am I, or is my horse, to be kept on the fret here until the return of a tardy messenger from yonder tents? What a fiend, dost thou not know me, Sir Captain? dost thou not know me for the Earl of Buchan?”“My Lord Earl,” replied the captain of the guard with perfect reverence, “I did indeed know the attence, but mine orders are so imperative, that albeit it doth indeed much erke[254]me to be so strict with thee, yet must I of needscost subject thee to the same rule that hath been laid down for all.”To prevent further words, Hepborne hastened to give his name and quality, and the number of his retinue, to the captain of the guard; and observing the growing impatience of the Wolfe, he managed to avert his coming wrath, by expressing a desire to ride towards the lists, to see what was going forward there, hoping that, by the time they had examined all the operations in progress, the passage of the bridge would be open to them.Having contrived to make the Wolfe waste nearly half-an-hour in this way, Hepborne returned with him to the bridge, where they were informed by the captain of the guard that the Earl of Moray was coming in person to meet them; and accordingly they beheld him riding across the bridge towards them, followed by an esquire and a very few attendants. He was unostentatiously dressed in a light hunting garb; his figure was middle-sized, his complexion fair, and his countenance fresh, round, and of a mild expression.His horse’s hoofs had no sooner touched the sod of the meadow than he dismounted, and giving the rein to his esquire, advanced to meet his brother-in-law. The Wolfe of Badenoch leaped from his saddle, and moving one step forward, stood to receive him. Sir Patrick Hepborne and the five Stewarts having also dismounted, were at his back.“Brother,” said the Wolfe, after their first salutations were over, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne.”“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl graciously, “I rejoice to see thee here; welcome to thy country, and to these my domains; I regret to understand that I must cast away all hope of seeing thine honoured father upon this occasion, and I yet more grieve at the cause of his present unfitness for mixing in sports in which he was wont to shine as a bright star. Nevoys,” continued he, saluting Sir Alexander Stewart and his brothers, “I rejoice to behold ye thus waxing so stout; an ye thrive thus, even the very youngest of ye will soon be well able to bear a shock. What sayest thou, Duncan, my boy? Your pardon, Sir Patrick, for a moment, but I must speak a little aside here with my brother, the noble Earl of Buchan; I shall be entirely at thy command anon.”The two Earls retired a few paces to one side, and Moray’s face assuming an air of great seriousness, he began to talk in an under tone to the Wolfe of Badenoch, whose brow, as he listened, gathered clouds and storms, which went on blackening and[255]ruffling it, until at length he burst out into one of his ungovernable furies.“Ha! by the beard of my grandfather, and dost thou think that I care the value of a cross-bow bolt for the split-crowned magpie?” cried he. “Excommunicate me! and what harm, I pr’ythee, will his excommunication do me? But, by’r Lady, he shall suffer for it. He has already had a small spice of what the Wolfe of Badenoch can do when he is roused, and, by all the fiends, he shall know more on’t ere long.”“Talk not so loud and vehemently, I beseech thee, brother,” said the Earl of Moray; “publish not the matter thus.”“Nay, but I will tell it,” roared out the Wolfe; “I will publish the insolence of this scoundrel Bishop to the whole world. What think ye,” continued he, turning round to his sons and Sir Patrick—“what think ye of the consummate impudence of the rascally Alexander Barr? He hath dared to void his impotent curse on the Earl of Buchan and Ross—on the son of the King of Scotland—on the Wolfe of Badenoch. My brother here, the Earl of Moray, hath just had an especial messenger from the croaking carrion, to tell him the news of my excommunication; but the red fiend catch me, an I do not make him rue that he ever told the tale beyond his own crowing rookery. Ha! let us to the Castle, brother—let us to my sister Margery, I say. Depardieux, but thou shalt see that the hypocritical knave’s anathema shall be but as seasoning to my food. Trust me, I shall not eat or drink one tithe the less of thy good cheer for it.”“Most noble Earl of Buchan, and my most excellent brother,” said the Earl of Moray, with a hesitating and perplexed air, “it erketh me sore—it giveth me, as thou mayest readily believe, extreme grief—to be compelled to tell thee that I cannot with propriety receive thee at present among the nobles who now house them within my walls, nor would the heralds admit of thy presence at the ensuing tournament, whilst thou liggest under the bann of the Holy Church, even were I bold enough to risk for thee the Church’s displeasure against me and mine. Let me, then, I pray thee, have weight with thee so far as to persuade thee to ride straightway to Elgin, to make thy peace with the Bishop. Much as I have on my hands at the present time, verily I will not scruple to haste thither with thee, if thou dost think that I mought in any manner of way further an accommodation, so that this dread reproach may be forthwith removed from off thee. We can then return together speedily, ere yet the matter shall have been bruited abroad (for, so far as I am[256]concerned, it is as yet a secret); and thou shalt then, much to my joy and honour, take thy due and proper place by the side of thy brother Robert, Earl of Fife and Menteith, at the head of mine illustrious guests, and——”“Ha! what!” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch in a fury; “thinkest thou that I will hie me straight, to lout myself low, and to lick the dust before the feet of that lorel Bishop, who hath had the surquedrie to dare thus to insult me? By my trusty burly-brand, I shall take other means of settling accounts between us. But methinks he is right hasty in his traffic. No sooner have I settled one score with him, than he runs me up another in the twinkling of an eye. But, by all the furies, he shall find that I shall pay him off roundly, and score him up double on my side. And so, brother, thou dost think that I carry such leprous contamination about my person, as may altogether unfit me for the purity of thy virtuous house? Gramercy for thy courtesy! But by the Rood, I do believe that something else lurketh under all these pretences. Thou hast seen my dotard father the King lately; thou hast held council with him I ween; and, I trow, my interests have not been furthered by the advices thou hast whispered in the Royal ear. I still lack the best cantle of my Lieutenantship in lacking Moray Land, and a bird hath whistled me that John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, hath not been backward in urging the monarch to refuse it to me. If this be so, Brother Earl——”“I swear by my knighthood,” cried the Earl of Moray earnestly interrupting him, and speaking at once with calmness and firmness—“I swear by my knighthood, that whoso hath told thee this, hath told thee a black falsehood; and I gage mine honour to throw the lie in his teeth, and to defy him to mortal debate, should it so please thee to yield me his name.”“Well spoken, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, apparently satisfied with the solemnity of the Earl of Moray’s denial. “But thou art pretty safe in thy darreigne; I did but suspect thee, and, in sooth, appearances were infernally against thee. But I must take it upon thy word and abide the event. Yet do I know of a truth that thou wert with the King——”“That do I most readily confess,” replied the Earl of Moray mildly. “I did indeed journey to Scone on my private affairs, and, among other things, to crave His Majesty’s gracious permission to hold this same tourney, and to petition for his royal presence here. But State reasons, or infirmity, or perhaps both causes conjoined, keep him back from us; nathless he hath sent his banner hither to wave over the lists, to show that at least[257]we have his royal good-will with us. I most solemnly vow that I did never meddle or make with the King in any matter of thine.”“The red fiend ride me then,” cried the Wolfe hastily, “but thy reception of me hath been something of the coolest. Methinks that, putting myself in thy case, and thee in mine, I should for thee have defied all the lorel coistrils that ever carried crosier. Ha! by’r Lady, ’tis indeed a precious tale to tell, that the Earl of Buchan was refused herborow within the Castle of his brother of Moray.”“Again I repeat that it doleth me sore,” said the Earl of Moray, “that I should be compelled to put on the semblance of inhospitality, and, above all, towards thee, my Lord of Buchan, with whom I am so nearly and dearly allied. But in this case, were I even to set the Bishop’s threats at defiance in order to receive thee, thou must be aware that it would only expose thee to certain disgrace; for, of a truth, thy presence would quickly clear my hall of all the noble guests who are to feast within its walls. Would, then, that I could incline thee to follow my counsel, and that thou wouldst be content to ride with me to Elgin, to appease the Bishop’s wrath, that he may remove his Episcopal curse. We should be back here long ere cock-crow, and——”“Thou hast had my mind on that head already, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, interrupting him, in a rage. “By the mass, but it is a cheap thing for thee to make trade and chevisaunce of another’s pride; but, by the blood of the Bruce, I promise thee, I shall give up no title of mine to swell that of the lossel drone of a Bishop; so make thyself easy on that score. What! to be trampled on by a walthsome massmonger, and then to go cap-in-hand, that he may put his plebeian foot on my neck! My horse there—my horse, I say. What stand the knaves staring for? I bid thee goode’en, my Lord of Moray. I’ll to Forres then, to inn me, sith I may not put my leprous hide within thy pure and unsullied walls. God be with thee, Sir Patrick Hepborne;” and so saying he sprang into his saddle.“But,” said the Earl of Moray, “though I cannot receive thee at present, my Lord of Buchan, I shall be right glad to do all the honour I may to Sir Alexander Stewart and the rest of my nevoys.”“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” cried the proud and fierce Sir Alexander; “sith thou dost hold my father as a polluted and pestilential guest, thou shalt have none of my company, I promise thee.”[258]“Ha! well said, son Alexander,” shouted the Wolfe joyously; “well said, my brave boy; by my beard, but thou hast spoken bravely. To Forres then, my merry men.”And without abiding farther parlance, the hasty Wolfe of Badenoch, with Sir Alexander and the younger Stewarts, rode off at a hand-gallop, followed by their retinue. Sir Andrew, however, remained quietly behind, and manifested no inclination to accompany his father.“And now, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said the Earl of Moray, “I have to crave thy pardon for having been thus so long neglectful of thee on a first meeting; but, I trow, I need hardly apologise, since thou hast thyself seen and heard enow, I ween, to plead my excuse with thee. This matter hath in very sooth most grievously affected me. It hath truly given me more teene and vexation than I can well tell thee. But I shall to Forres by times i’ the morning, and then essay to soothe my Lord of Buchan into greater moderation and a more reasonable temper than he hath just displayed. Meanwhile the Countess Margery doth abide for us in the pavilion. Let us then hasten thither, so please thee, for she will not leave it to go to the Castle until I rejoin her, and verily it waxeth late, and the nobles and barons will ere this be assembling in Randolph’s Hall.”The Earl now led the way across the bridge, and thence towards the pavilions. As they approached the great one, before which his banner was displayed, a group of squires, grooms, and caparisoned palfreys appeared promenading in front of it.“Yea, I see that her palfrey is ready,” said the Earl; “nay, yonder she issues forth to meet us.”He dismounted, and Hepborne, following his example, was straightway introduced by him to the Countess, who received him with great kindness and courtesy.“Nevoy,” said she to Sir Andrew Stewart, who approached to salute her, “I do most sincerely grieve at the cause of my brother the Earl of Buchan’s absence. I hope, however, it will be but short, sith I trust the holy Bishop Barr will not be inexorable, and that thy father will join our festivities ere long. But where are thy brethren?”“We shall talk of that anon,” said the Earl, wishing to get rid of an unpleasant subject; “meanwhile let us not lose time, for it waxeth late, and our presence at the Castle is doubtless looked for ere now. Get thee to horse, then, my sweet lady spouse, with what haste thou mayest.”Hepborne advanced and gave his arm to the Countess, and[259]having assisted her into her saddle, the whole party mounted to accompany her to Tarnawa. During their short ride through the forest, Hepborne enjoyed enough of the conversation of the Earl and Countess to give him a very favourable impression of both. The lady, in particular, showed so much sweetness of disposition that he could not help contrasting her in his own mind with her brother, the savage and ferocious Wolfe, to make up whose fiery and intemperate character to its full strength, Nature seemed to have robbed her soft and peaceful soul of every spark of violence that might have otherwise fallen to its share in the original mixture of its elements. Sound reason and good sense, indeed, seemed in her to be united with a most winning kindness and sweetness of manner, and it was quite a refreshment to Sir Patrick to meet with society so tranquil and rational after that of the ever-raging and tempestuous spirits with whom he had been lately consorting. The Countess failed not to notice the handsome page, Maurice de Grey; but her attentions to him were of a very different description from those of the Lady Mariota Athyn, which had so afflicted him at Lochyndorbe. She spoke to him with gentleness, and having been made aware of his family and history by Hepborne, manifested the interest she took in the boy in a manner so delicate that he was already disposed to cling to her as willingly as he had before wished to avoid the Lady Mariota.As they approached the straggling hamlet, through which lay the immediate approach to the Castle, its inhabitants, as well as the peasants from the neighbouring cottages, were collected together. Men, women, and children came crowding about them for the mere pleasure of beholding the Earl and his Countess, and the grateful hearts of these poor creatures burst forth in showers of blessings on the heads of their benefactors.“God bless the noble pair!”—“There they come, God bless them!”—“May the blessing of St. Andrew—may the holy Virgin’s choicest blessings be about them!”—“What should we poor folk do an ’twere na for them?”—“What should we do if anything should come over them?”—“Heaven preserve their precious lives?”—“May Heaven long spare them to be a comfort and a defence to us all!”—“God bless the noble Earl, and Heaven’s richest blessings be showered on the angel Countess!”Such was the abundant and gratifying reward these noble and generous hearts received for well fulfilling the duties of the high station their lot had placed them in. They replied graciously to those simple but sincere benisons, and though in haste, the Countess more than once reined up her palfrey as she[260]passed along the lane they opened for her, to make inquiries after the complaints, distresses, and wants of particular individuals; and where the matter admitted of her relief, she failed not to give an order to attend at the Castle at her daily hour of audience.
The Wolfe of Badenoch having once made up his mind to accompany Sir Patrick Hepborne to the tournament of St. John’s, allowed but little time to be lost by his people in preparation; and his sons and their attendants, with his own splendid retinue, were speedily assembled on the lawn beyond the land sconce. Hepborne’s more moderate cortège was also quickly mustered there, and in less than an hour the two leaders were at the head of their united trains, marching off with bugles sounding, and banners and pennons flying.
Leaving the lake by the same route by which Sir Patrick had approached it, they travelled northwards through the apparently ceaseless forest, that varied only in the undulations of the surface it grew upon, and in the trees it produced. The pines were very soon, in a great measure, exchanged for magnificent birches and oaks, spreading themselves far and wide over the country, and forming the vast forest of Drummyn. There they skirted the Findhorn, which thundered through the romantic chasm, yawning between confined and precipitous[252]crags, until they found themselves on the summit of a bold cliff overhanging the river, from the base of which it swept in one grand and broad line through the centre of a beautiful plain of about a mile in diameter, dividing it from south to north into two nearly equal parts. These were the Meads of St. John, and there the stream seemed gladly to slumber in a comparatively gentle current, after its boisterous and laborious passage downwards from its native mountains. Ledges of rock did indeed push themselves here and there from its enamelled margins, and served to diversify them, as did those groups of wide-spreading oaks of enormous growth, forming in most places a broad bowery fringe to either shore; but there was nothing to disturb the perfect continuity and level of the grassy surface of the meadows, except one or two bosky groves, carelessly planted by the hand of nature. The high banks retreating on both sides, to bend round and embrace the Meads, presented an irregularity of form and slope; while the forest, extending itself everywhere over the upper grounds, sent down some of its most magnificent representatives to grace their sides. About a mile or more to the left, perched on a gentle eminence, arose the venerable Castle of Tarnawa, looking far and wide over its woody domain. Towards the northern extremity of the Eastern Mead, stood the little chapel dedicated to St. John the Baptist, giving name to the lovely valley that now stretched in rich verdure beneath their eyes; and over the farther boundaries of the meadows appeared the fertile plain of Forres, the broad expanse of the Frith, and the distant mountain-range beyond.
But these, the mere ordinary and permanent features of the scene, though exquisitely beautiful in themselves, were at this time rendered tenfold more interesting by the animation that everywhere pervaded the Meads of St. John, where the whole population of the North had assembled. Midway down the long stretch of the river was erected a wide bridge, formed of enormous pillars and beams of wood, intended to give temporary passage between the opposite banks during the ensuing sports; and it was spanned above by several triumphal arches, which people were then employed in decorating with boughs of holly and other evergreens. A promiscuous and motley assemblage of booths, tents, log-houses, and huts, in number beyond all possibility of reckoning, were seen scattered like a great irregular village all around the base of those semi-circular banks embracing the eastern side of the Meads. These fragile tenements were occupied by the populace not only of the neighbouring town and surrounding country, but by many who had come[253]from very distant parts of Scotland, some to establish a mart for their wares, others to exhibit feats of strength, or agility, or juggling, and the greater number, perhaps, to behold the spectacle, or assist in the labours incident to the preparation for it.
The lists were then erecting in the centre of the eastern meadow, while, on the western side of the river, were observed a number of pavilions, within the recess of a beautiful glade retiring among the wooded banks. These were brought thither by knights who came to attend the tournament, the accommodations in the Castle being quite unequal for more than a chosen few. Such as were already erected had each a banner or pennon flying before it, and others were pitching with great expedition. In the midst of the whole was the pavilion of the Earl of Moray, of much greater magnitude than any of those around it, while his banner unfurled itself to the breeze from the top of a tall pine fixed in the ground for the purpose.
Such were the most prominent objects, then, in the Meads of St. John; but the whole vale swarmed with living beings. Groups of men and horses were seen moving over it in all directions, and the very earth seemed in motion.
“By the Holy Rood,” cried the Wolfe, “but it is a noble sight. Methinks my brother-in-law, Earl John, must have had his hands in the King’s purse ere he could have ventured on such a show as this. Come, Sir Patrick, let us hasten to see how things may be in the Castle.”
They followed a steep and winding path that led them down through the wood into the valley below, and quickly crossed the level ground towards the bridge. This they found guarded by a strong party of spearmen and archers. The captain on duty came forward—
“Sir Knights,” said he courteously, “so please ye to honour me with your names and titles, that they may be passed forward to the Earl’s pavilion for his inspection.”
“Morte de ma vie,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch pettishly, “but this is ceremony with a vengeance. What! shall I not have liberty to approach me to mine own brother-in-law, until I shall have sent him my name! and am I, or is my horse, to be kept on the fret here until the return of a tardy messenger from yonder tents? What a fiend, dost thou not know me, Sir Captain? dost thou not know me for the Earl of Buchan?”
“My Lord Earl,” replied the captain of the guard with perfect reverence, “I did indeed know the attence, but mine orders are so imperative, that albeit it doth indeed much erke[254]me to be so strict with thee, yet must I of needscost subject thee to the same rule that hath been laid down for all.”
To prevent further words, Hepborne hastened to give his name and quality, and the number of his retinue, to the captain of the guard; and observing the growing impatience of the Wolfe, he managed to avert his coming wrath, by expressing a desire to ride towards the lists, to see what was going forward there, hoping that, by the time they had examined all the operations in progress, the passage of the bridge would be open to them.
Having contrived to make the Wolfe waste nearly half-an-hour in this way, Hepborne returned with him to the bridge, where they were informed by the captain of the guard that the Earl of Moray was coming in person to meet them; and accordingly they beheld him riding across the bridge towards them, followed by an esquire and a very few attendants. He was unostentatiously dressed in a light hunting garb; his figure was middle-sized, his complexion fair, and his countenance fresh, round, and of a mild expression.
His horse’s hoofs had no sooner touched the sod of the meadow than he dismounted, and giving the rein to his esquire, advanced to meet his brother-in-law. The Wolfe of Badenoch leaped from his saddle, and moving one step forward, stood to receive him. Sir Patrick Hepborne and the five Stewarts having also dismounted, were at his back.
“Brother,” said the Wolfe, after their first salutations were over, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne.”
“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl graciously, “I rejoice to see thee here; welcome to thy country, and to these my domains; I regret to understand that I must cast away all hope of seeing thine honoured father upon this occasion, and I yet more grieve at the cause of his present unfitness for mixing in sports in which he was wont to shine as a bright star. Nevoys,” continued he, saluting Sir Alexander Stewart and his brothers, “I rejoice to behold ye thus waxing so stout; an ye thrive thus, even the very youngest of ye will soon be well able to bear a shock. What sayest thou, Duncan, my boy? Your pardon, Sir Patrick, for a moment, but I must speak a little aside here with my brother, the noble Earl of Buchan; I shall be entirely at thy command anon.”
The two Earls retired a few paces to one side, and Moray’s face assuming an air of great seriousness, he began to talk in an under tone to the Wolfe of Badenoch, whose brow, as he listened, gathered clouds and storms, which went on blackening and[255]ruffling it, until at length he burst out into one of his ungovernable furies.
“Ha! by the beard of my grandfather, and dost thou think that I care the value of a cross-bow bolt for the split-crowned magpie?” cried he. “Excommunicate me! and what harm, I pr’ythee, will his excommunication do me? But, by’r Lady, he shall suffer for it. He has already had a small spice of what the Wolfe of Badenoch can do when he is roused, and, by all the fiends, he shall know more on’t ere long.”
“Talk not so loud and vehemently, I beseech thee, brother,” said the Earl of Moray; “publish not the matter thus.”
“Nay, but I will tell it,” roared out the Wolfe; “I will publish the insolence of this scoundrel Bishop to the whole world. What think ye,” continued he, turning round to his sons and Sir Patrick—“what think ye of the consummate impudence of the rascally Alexander Barr? He hath dared to void his impotent curse on the Earl of Buchan and Ross—on the son of the King of Scotland—on the Wolfe of Badenoch. My brother here, the Earl of Moray, hath just had an especial messenger from the croaking carrion, to tell him the news of my excommunication; but the red fiend catch me, an I do not make him rue that he ever told the tale beyond his own crowing rookery. Ha! let us to the Castle, brother—let us to my sister Margery, I say. Depardieux, but thou shalt see that the hypocritical knave’s anathema shall be but as seasoning to my food. Trust me, I shall not eat or drink one tithe the less of thy good cheer for it.”
“Most noble Earl of Buchan, and my most excellent brother,” said the Earl of Moray, with a hesitating and perplexed air, “it erketh me sore—it giveth me, as thou mayest readily believe, extreme grief—to be compelled to tell thee that I cannot with propriety receive thee at present among the nobles who now house them within my walls, nor would the heralds admit of thy presence at the ensuing tournament, whilst thou liggest under the bann of the Holy Church, even were I bold enough to risk for thee the Church’s displeasure against me and mine. Let me, then, I pray thee, have weight with thee so far as to persuade thee to ride straightway to Elgin, to make thy peace with the Bishop. Much as I have on my hands at the present time, verily I will not scruple to haste thither with thee, if thou dost think that I mought in any manner of way further an accommodation, so that this dread reproach may be forthwith removed from off thee. We can then return together speedily, ere yet the matter shall have been bruited abroad (for, so far as I am[256]concerned, it is as yet a secret); and thou shalt then, much to my joy and honour, take thy due and proper place by the side of thy brother Robert, Earl of Fife and Menteith, at the head of mine illustrious guests, and——”
“Ha! what!” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch in a fury; “thinkest thou that I will hie me straight, to lout myself low, and to lick the dust before the feet of that lorel Bishop, who hath had the surquedrie to dare thus to insult me? By my trusty burly-brand, I shall take other means of settling accounts between us. But methinks he is right hasty in his traffic. No sooner have I settled one score with him, than he runs me up another in the twinkling of an eye. But, by all the furies, he shall find that I shall pay him off roundly, and score him up double on my side. And so, brother, thou dost think that I carry such leprous contamination about my person, as may altogether unfit me for the purity of thy virtuous house? Gramercy for thy courtesy! But by the Rood, I do believe that something else lurketh under all these pretences. Thou hast seen my dotard father the King lately; thou hast held council with him I ween; and, I trow, my interests have not been furthered by the advices thou hast whispered in the Royal ear. I still lack the best cantle of my Lieutenantship in lacking Moray Land, and a bird hath whistled me that John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, hath not been backward in urging the monarch to refuse it to me. If this be so, Brother Earl——”
“I swear by my knighthood,” cried the Earl of Moray earnestly interrupting him, and speaking at once with calmness and firmness—“I swear by my knighthood, that whoso hath told thee this, hath told thee a black falsehood; and I gage mine honour to throw the lie in his teeth, and to defy him to mortal debate, should it so please thee to yield me his name.”
“Well spoken, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, apparently satisfied with the solemnity of the Earl of Moray’s denial. “But thou art pretty safe in thy darreigne; I did but suspect thee, and, in sooth, appearances were infernally against thee. But I must take it upon thy word and abide the event. Yet do I know of a truth that thou wert with the King——”
“That do I most readily confess,” replied the Earl of Moray mildly. “I did indeed journey to Scone on my private affairs, and, among other things, to crave His Majesty’s gracious permission to hold this same tourney, and to petition for his royal presence here. But State reasons, or infirmity, or perhaps both causes conjoined, keep him back from us; nathless he hath sent his banner hither to wave over the lists, to show that at least[257]we have his royal good-will with us. I most solemnly vow that I did never meddle or make with the King in any matter of thine.”
“The red fiend ride me then,” cried the Wolfe hastily, “but thy reception of me hath been something of the coolest. Methinks that, putting myself in thy case, and thee in mine, I should for thee have defied all the lorel coistrils that ever carried crosier. Ha! by’r Lady, ’tis indeed a precious tale to tell, that the Earl of Buchan was refused herborow within the Castle of his brother of Moray.”
“Again I repeat that it doleth me sore,” said the Earl of Moray, “that I should be compelled to put on the semblance of inhospitality, and, above all, towards thee, my Lord of Buchan, with whom I am so nearly and dearly allied. But in this case, were I even to set the Bishop’s threats at defiance in order to receive thee, thou must be aware that it would only expose thee to certain disgrace; for, of a truth, thy presence would quickly clear my hall of all the noble guests who are to feast within its walls. Would, then, that I could incline thee to follow my counsel, and that thou wouldst be content to ride with me to Elgin, to appease the Bishop’s wrath, that he may remove his Episcopal curse. We should be back here long ere cock-crow, and——”
“Thou hast had my mind on that head already, brother John,” cried the Wolfe, interrupting him, in a rage. “By the mass, but it is a cheap thing for thee to make trade and chevisaunce of another’s pride; but, by the blood of the Bruce, I promise thee, I shall give up no title of mine to swell that of the lossel drone of a Bishop; so make thyself easy on that score. What! to be trampled on by a walthsome massmonger, and then to go cap-in-hand, that he may put his plebeian foot on my neck! My horse there—my horse, I say. What stand the knaves staring for? I bid thee goode’en, my Lord of Moray. I’ll to Forres then, to inn me, sith I may not put my leprous hide within thy pure and unsullied walls. God be with thee, Sir Patrick Hepborne;” and so saying he sprang into his saddle.
“But,” said the Earl of Moray, “though I cannot receive thee at present, my Lord of Buchan, I shall be right glad to do all the honour I may to Sir Alexander Stewart and the rest of my nevoys.”
“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” cried the proud and fierce Sir Alexander; “sith thou dost hold my father as a polluted and pestilential guest, thou shalt have none of my company, I promise thee.”[258]
“Ha! well said, son Alexander,” shouted the Wolfe joyously; “well said, my brave boy; by my beard, but thou hast spoken bravely. To Forres then, my merry men.”
And without abiding farther parlance, the hasty Wolfe of Badenoch, with Sir Alexander and the younger Stewarts, rode off at a hand-gallop, followed by their retinue. Sir Andrew, however, remained quietly behind, and manifested no inclination to accompany his father.
“And now, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said the Earl of Moray, “I have to crave thy pardon for having been thus so long neglectful of thee on a first meeting; but, I trow, I need hardly apologise, since thou hast thyself seen and heard enow, I ween, to plead my excuse with thee. This matter hath in very sooth most grievously affected me. It hath truly given me more teene and vexation than I can well tell thee. But I shall to Forres by times i’ the morning, and then essay to soothe my Lord of Buchan into greater moderation and a more reasonable temper than he hath just displayed. Meanwhile the Countess Margery doth abide for us in the pavilion. Let us then hasten thither, so please thee, for she will not leave it to go to the Castle until I rejoin her, and verily it waxeth late, and the nobles and barons will ere this be assembling in Randolph’s Hall.”
The Earl now led the way across the bridge, and thence towards the pavilions. As they approached the great one, before which his banner was displayed, a group of squires, grooms, and caparisoned palfreys appeared promenading in front of it.
“Yea, I see that her palfrey is ready,” said the Earl; “nay, yonder she issues forth to meet us.”
He dismounted, and Hepborne, following his example, was straightway introduced by him to the Countess, who received him with great kindness and courtesy.
“Nevoy,” said she to Sir Andrew Stewart, who approached to salute her, “I do most sincerely grieve at the cause of my brother the Earl of Buchan’s absence. I hope, however, it will be but short, sith I trust the holy Bishop Barr will not be inexorable, and that thy father will join our festivities ere long. But where are thy brethren?”
“We shall talk of that anon,” said the Earl, wishing to get rid of an unpleasant subject; “meanwhile let us not lose time, for it waxeth late, and our presence at the Castle is doubtless looked for ere now. Get thee to horse, then, my sweet lady spouse, with what haste thou mayest.”
Hepborne advanced and gave his arm to the Countess, and[259]having assisted her into her saddle, the whole party mounted to accompany her to Tarnawa. During their short ride through the forest, Hepborne enjoyed enough of the conversation of the Earl and Countess to give him a very favourable impression of both. The lady, in particular, showed so much sweetness of disposition that he could not help contrasting her in his own mind with her brother, the savage and ferocious Wolfe, to make up whose fiery and intemperate character to its full strength, Nature seemed to have robbed her soft and peaceful soul of every spark of violence that might have otherwise fallen to its share in the original mixture of its elements. Sound reason and good sense, indeed, seemed in her to be united with a most winning kindness and sweetness of manner, and it was quite a refreshment to Sir Patrick to meet with society so tranquil and rational after that of the ever-raging and tempestuous spirits with whom he had been lately consorting. The Countess failed not to notice the handsome page, Maurice de Grey; but her attentions to him were of a very different description from those of the Lady Mariota Athyn, which had so afflicted him at Lochyndorbe. She spoke to him with gentleness, and having been made aware of his family and history by Hepborne, manifested the interest she took in the boy in a manner so delicate that he was already disposed to cling to her as willingly as he had before wished to avoid the Lady Mariota.
As they approached the straggling hamlet, through which lay the immediate approach to the Castle, its inhabitants, as well as the peasants from the neighbouring cottages, were collected together. Men, women, and children came crowding about them for the mere pleasure of beholding the Earl and his Countess, and the grateful hearts of these poor creatures burst forth in showers of blessings on the heads of their benefactors.
“God bless the noble pair!”—“There they come, God bless them!”—“May the blessing of St. Andrew—may the holy Virgin’s choicest blessings be about them!”—“What should we poor folk do an ’twere na for them?”—“What should we do if anything should come over them?”—“Heaven preserve their precious lives?”—“May Heaven long spare them to be a comfort and a defence to us all!”—“God bless the noble Earl, and Heaven’s richest blessings be showered on the angel Countess!”
Such was the abundant and gratifying reward these noble and generous hearts received for well fulfilling the duties of the high station their lot had placed them in. They replied graciously to those simple but sincere benisons, and though in haste, the Countess more than once reined up her palfrey as she[260]passed along the lane they opened for her, to make inquiries after the complaints, distresses, and wants of particular individuals; and where the matter admitted of her relief, she failed not to give an order to attend at the Castle at her daily hour of audience.