[Contents]CHAPTER XXXVI.The Castle of Tarnawa—Distinguished Guests.The party now climbed the slope, on the summit of which the Castle rose grandly before them; and they were no sooner within its outer defences than they found every corner of it alive. Lacqueys and serving-men of all sorts, in all the variety of rich attire, were seen running about in every direction. Most of the noblemen and knights had already assembled to prepare for the tournament, and some of these, with their ladies and daughters, were inmates of the Castle. From the Earl of Moray’s particular regard and friendship for Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, an apartment was immediately assigned to his son; yet those who were favoured with lodgings at Tarnawa were but few in number compared with the many who were to be accommodated in the pavilions erected on the margin of the Mead. But as all were expected to assemble at the daily feast at the Castle, tables were laid for more than an hundred guests in Randolph’s Hall, where even a company of twice the number might have found ample room—this grand monument of feudal times covering an area of nearly an hundred feet in length.A Squire Usher promptly attended to show Sir Patrick to his chamber, where he unarmed, dressed, and perfumed himself; and when he had completed his attirement, the Squire Usher again appeared to conduct him to the great hall.“Nobles and chevaliers,” cried a pursuivant stationed at the entrance, “nobles and chevaliers, place there for Sir Patrick Hepborne, younger of Hailes, a puissant knight, of good stock and brave lineage, who but the other day overthrew the renowned Sir Rafe Piersie in single combat, which was nothing to his deeds of arms in France, for there——”“Good pursuivant,” said Hepborne, interrupting him, in an under voice, as he poured a liberal largess into his cap, “thou hast said enow—no more, I beseech thee.” But the pursuivant’s tongue was rather oiled than gagged by the unusual magnitude of his donation.“Ay,” cried he aloud, “a brave tree is known by its good[261]fruits, and gentle blood by its generosity. Well may ye ken a noble hand by the gift that comes from it; and well may ye ken a gallant and well-born knight by his noble port and presence, and by his liberal largess. Place there, I say, for Sir Patrick Hepborne—place there for the hero of Rosebarque!”“Silence, I entreat thee,” cried Hepborne, advancing with all eyes upon him, to meet the Earl of Moray, who was approaching to receive him.The magnificent Hall of Randolph presented at that moment one of the most brilliant spectacles that could well be conceived, graced as it then was with some of the flower of Scotland’s chivalry, who, with their ladies and attendants, shone in all the richest and gayest variety of silks, velvets, furs, and gaudy-coloured cloths, blazing with gold and embroidery, sparkling with gems, and heavy with curiously-wrought chains and other ornaments, while flaunting plumes fluttered about, giving a multiplied effect of motion, so that the whole area resembled one great tide of gorgeous grandeur, that was perpetually fluctuating, mixing, and changing.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl to Hepborne, “I believe thy sojournance abroad hath hitherto permitted thee to see but little of our Scottish chivauncie. It will be a pleasing task to me to make thee acquainted with such of them as are here; and it will give me yet greater jovisaunce to teach them to know thy merits. Let me then, first of all, introduce thee to my brother-in-law, Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife and Menteith, who, though he be but the King’s second son, is supposed, with some truth, to have the greatest share of the government of Scotland.”So saying, the Earl of Moray led Sir Patrick through the dividing crowd, towards the upper end of the hall, where a platform, raised about a foot above the rest, marked it as the place of honour. There they found a circle of knights surrounding a tall majestic man of commanding presence, whose countenance seemed to wear an expression of amiability, affability, and even of benignity, apparently put on for the occasion, like the ornaments he wore, but by no means forming a part of his character. His face was handsome, and Hepborne could just trace in it a faint likeness to his brother the Wolfe of Badenoch; but there was a lurking severity about the eye which his gracious looks could not altogether quench. He appeared to be highly courted by all about him, and from the smiles that mantled over the faces he successively looked at, he seemed to carry sunshine on his brow, and to scatter joy wherever he threw his eyes. Hepborne[262]only caught up the last of his words as he approached the group in the midst of which he stood.——“And if it should so please my liege-father,” said he to an elderly knight who stood bowing as he spoke,—“if it should so please my liege-father to throw the heavy burden of government on me, trust me, I shall not forget thy hitherto unrequited services. The debt thy country doth owe thee is indeed great, and thou hast hitherto been met with but small mountance of gratitude. But how enorme soever the debt may be, it shall be faithfully paid thee should I have any control.”“My Lord,” said the Earl of Moray, advancing, whilst the circle opened up to make way for him, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whom I promised thee to introduce to thy notice.”“Thanks, my good brother, for this so speedy fulfilment of thy behote,” replied the Earl of Fife. “Trust me, it giveth me exceeding joy to have this opportunity of knowing so valiant a knight, the son, too, of so brave and renowned a warrior, and one so sage in council, as the highly and justly respected Sir Patrick Hepborne of Hailes, who, to the great let and hinderance of his country’s weal, hath kept himself too much of late from the bustle of State affairs. But now that thou hast returned to thy native soil, Sir Patrick, we shall hope to see thee bear a part of that fardel, which thy gallant father might have been otherwise called on to support alone; for, if fame lie not, thy prudence bids fair to render thee as serviceable in the closet of council as thine arm hath already proved itself fit to defend the fame and rights of Scotland in the field.”“My Lord,” said Hepborne, “I fear much that fame hath done me but a left-handed service, by trumpeting forth merits the which I do but meagrely possess, and that public expectation hath been raised high, only to be the more cast down.”“Nay, trust me, Sir Patrick, there is small fear of that,” said the Earl of Moray.“Fear!” said the Earl of Fife; “I have had mine eyes ever on the branchers of the true breed, from whom Scotland and my father’s house must look to have falcons of the boldest and bravest cast; and none hath made promise of fairer flight than thou hast, Sir Patrick. True it is, that thou hast yet to be reclaimed, as the falconer would term it; that is, I would say, thou hast yet to learn what game to fly at. But I shall gladly teach thee, for it will give me real joy to direct the views, and advance the fortunes, of the son of my worthy old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne.”[263]“My Lord,” said Sir Patrick, “I am indeed much beholden to thy courtesy——”“Nay,” said the Earl of Fife, interrupting him, “nay, not to me or my courtesy, I promise thee, but to thine own worth only; for if the good old King my father, and my brother John, should force the regency of this kingdom on me, the duty I owe to them and to my country will never suffer me to give place or office to any but those who are fit and worthy to fill them; so thou hast to thank thyself and thine own good conduct, already so much bruited abroad, for the high opinion I have thus so early formed of thee, as well as for the desire I now feel to foster thy budding honours, and to bring out all thy latent talents for Scotland’s behoof.”“I am overwhelmed with your Lordship’s goodness,” said Hepborne, bowing. “Trust me, mine humble endeavours shall not be wanting to deserve this thy kind and early good opinion, formed, as I am disposed to guess, for my revered father’s sake, though thou art pleased to flatter me by assigning another cause.”“However that may be,” replied the Earl of Fife, squeezing him warmly by the hand, “thou mayest rely on me as thy sincere friend, Sir Patrick.—Ho! Sir John de Keith,” exclaimed he, suddenly breaking off, and joining a knight who bowed to him as he passed by, “I shall have that matter we talked of arranged for thee anon. The son of my old friend the Knight-Marischal of Scotland, and one for whom I have so high a personal regard, shall always command my most earnest endeavours to gratify his wishes. Walk with me apart, I pray thee. Thou knowest the money hath been——”But the rest of his discourse was lost in a whisper, and Hepborne’s attention was called off by the Earl of Moray, who introduced him to David Stewart, Earl of Stratherne and Caithness, another son of the King’s, though by a second wife. After a few expressions of mere compliment had passed between them, and the Earl of Stratherne had moved on,“Lindsay,” cried his noble host to a bold and determined-looking knight, who was elbowing his way through the crowd, with his lady hanging on his left arm, “Lindsay, I wish to make thee acquainted with Sir Patrick Hepborne, son of the gallant Sir Patrick of Hailes.—Sir Patrick, this is my brother-in-law, Sir David de Lindsay of Glenesk; and this is his lady, the Lady Catherine Stewart, sister to my Countess. Sir David is my most trusty and well-approved brother, and it would give me joy to see the bonds of amity drawn tight between you.”[264]The lady received Sir Patrick’s compliments most graciously; a cordial acknowledgment took place between the two knights; and Hepborne felt, that although there was less of protestation, there was a greater smack of sincerity in Lindsay than in the powerful Earl of Fife, who had said and promised so much.“Welcome to Scotland, Sir Patrick,” said he. “By St. Andrew, but I rejoice to see thee, for I have heard much of thee. What news, I pray thee, from foreign pa——”The word was broken off in the midde, for ere he had time to finish it, to the great astonishment of his lady, and the no small amusement of Hepborne and the Earl, he suddenly struck himself a violent blow on the cheek with the palm of his right hand. A roguish laugh burst from behind him. Lindsay quickly turned round.“Aha! Dalzell,” cried he, “so it was thou, wicked wag that thou art?”“’Tis indeed Sir William de Dalzell,” said Lady de Lindsay, laughing; “he is always at his mad tricks. There now, do but see what he is about; he is actually applying the tip of a long feather from a peacock’s tail to tickle the cheek of my sister Jane’s husband, the grave Sir Thomas Hay of Errol.”“How doth he dare to attack the august cheek of the High Constable of Scotland?” said the Earl of Moray, with a smile.“Nay, do but observe,” said Sir David Lindsay, “do but watch, I beseech thee, what strange and uncouth grimaces our brother-in-law, the High and Mighty Constable, is making, as the fibres of the delicate point of the feather titillate the skin of his cheek. Ah! ha, ha, ha! by the mass, but he hath given himself as hard a blow as I did, thinking to kill the fly.”“And see,” said the lady, “he hath suspected a trick; but he looks in vain for our waggish friend Dalzell, who hath dived like a duck and disappeared. Ha, ha, ha! see how strangely the High Constable eyes the solemn Earl of Sutherland near him, as if he half believed that grave personage was the perpetrator of the espièglerie. ’Twould be rare sport if he should tax him with it.”“’Twould be a rich treat indeed,” said Sir David Lindsay.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl of Moray, “come hither, I pray thee. Yonder comes James Earl of Douglas and Mar, with his Countess the Lady Margaret Stewart, another sister of my Margery’s.”“He is indeed a knight worth knowing,” said Hepborne.“This way, then, and I will introduce thee to him,” said the Earl of Moray.[265]Hepborne followed his host towards that part of the hall where the bold and Herculean Earl of Douglas was making his way with his lady slowly through the assembled company, who crowded eagerly around him to offer him their compliments. His manner was plain and dignified, and he behaved with kindness and affability to all who addressed him, though, on his part, he did not by any means seem to court notice. When Hepborne was brought up to him by his brother-in-law, and his name made known, he gave him a good soldierlike shake by the hand.“I am right glad to see thee in thine own country, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said he. “An I mistake not, some storm is a-brewing in England, that may cause us to want all the good lances which Scotland can muster. When King Dickon doth send these hawk-eyed ambassadors to talk of peace, depardieux, but I, for my part, am apt to smell war. My Lord of Fife sayeth that ’tis not so, and he is shrewd enough in common. I have mine own thoughts; but we shall see who is right, and that too ere many days are gone, an the signs of the times deceive me not.”“’Twere well that we young unschooled soldiers should have something to do, my Lord,” said Hepborne, “were it only to keep our swords from rusting, and lest we should forget our exercises, and such parts of the rudiments of war as chance hath taught us.”“Thou sayest well, my gallant young friend,” said the Douglas, his eyes flashing as he spoke, again shaking Hepborne heartily by the hand; “but thou art no such novice to forget thy trade so easily. Yet sayest thou well; piping times of peace are the ruin of our Scottish chivauncie, and stiffen the movements of even the most experienced warriors. Such sentiments as these, seasoned with so much modesty, are but what I mought have looked for from the son of that knight of sterling proof of heart as well as hand, my brave old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne, thy father.”Sir Patrick was more than gratified by the expressions of respect for his father which he had heard drop from every mouth. The blush of honest pride, mingled with that of warm filial affection, rose more that once to his cheek; but it never before mounted with such a rushing tide of joy as it did when this short panegyric fell from the lips of the heroic Douglas. He was not permitted time to reply, for all were so eager to have one word, nay, one glance of recognition from the brave Earl, that his attention was rifled from Hepborne, and he was[266]carried away before he could open his mouth to speak to him again.“Dost thou see yonder group?” demanded the Earl of Moray as he pointed them out to Sir Patrick. “The elderly knight and dame are William de Vaux, Lord of Dirleton, and his lady. The fair damosel seated behind them is their daughter, the Lady Jane de Vaux, held to be the loveliest of all the maidens who have come to honour this our tournament. Nay, she is indeed esteemed one of the fairest pearls of the Scottish Court, and a rich pearl she is, moreover, seeing she is the heiress of her father’s domains. The knight who lieth at her footstool, and sigheth enlangoured at her feet, effunding soft speeches from his heart, and gazing upwards with a species of adoration in his eyes, is the gallant Sir John Halyburton, who wears her favours, and bears her proud merits in high defiance on his lance’s point.”“Let me entreat your Lordship, who are those knights who come yonder so bravely arrayed?” said Hepborne.“Those,” replied the Earl, “are the English knights who lately came on ambassage. He in the purple velvet is the Lord Welles; that elder knight on his right hand, who showeth deportment so courteous, is the worthy Sir John Constable of Halsham and Burton, one who hath done good deeds of arms in his day; he that is so flauntingly attired in the peach-blossom surcoat so richly emblazoned, is the gay Sir Piers Courtenay; and immediately behind him is the stark Sir Thomas Fairfax of Walton. But stay, here comes my brother George, Earl of Dunbar and March. George,” cried he, addressing his brother as he passed, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whose father thou well knowest.”“I do,” said the Earl of Dunbar, energetically squeezing Hepborne’s hand, “and I shall not fail to receive the son of my dearest friend into my warmest affections for his father’s sake. How left ye thy gallant sire?”This question was but the preliminary to a long and friendly conversation between Hepborne and the Earl of Dunbar, which lasted until it was interrupted by a flourish of trumpets and clarions, announcing the entrance of the Grand Sewer, with a white wand in his hand. He advanced at the head of a perfect army of lacqueys, who brought in the feast, and the company began to be marshalled to their places by the pursuivants.[267]
[Contents]CHAPTER XXXVI.The Castle of Tarnawa—Distinguished Guests.The party now climbed the slope, on the summit of which the Castle rose grandly before them; and they were no sooner within its outer defences than they found every corner of it alive. Lacqueys and serving-men of all sorts, in all the variety of rich attire, were seen running about in every direction. Most of the noblemen and knights had already assembled to prepare for the tournament, and some of these, with their ladies and daughters, were inmates of the Castle. From the Earl of Moray’s particular regard and friendship for Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, an apartment was immediately assigned to his son; yet those who were favoured with lodgings at Tarnawa were but few in number compared with the many who were to be accommodated in the pavilions erected on the margin of the Mead. But as all were expected to assemble at the daily feast at the Castle, tables were laid for more than an hundred guests in Randolph’s Hall, where even a company of twice the number might have found ample room—this grand monument of feudal times covering an area of nearly an hundred feet in length.A Squire Usher promptly attended to show Sir Patrick to his chamber, where he unarmed, dressed, and perfumed himself; and when he had completed his attirement, the Squire Usher again appeared to conduct him to the great hall.“Nobles and chevaliers,” cried a pursuivant stationed at the entrance, “nobles and chevaliers, place there for Sir Patrick Hepborne, younger of Hailes, a puissant knight, of good stock and brave lineage, who but the other day overthrew the renowned Sir Rafe Piersie in single combat, which was nothing to his deeds of arms in France, for there——”“Good pursuivant,” said Hepborne, interrupting him, in an under voice, as he poured a liberal largess into his cap, “thou hast said enow—no more, I beseech thee.” But the pursuivant’s tongue was rather oiled than gagged by the unusual magnitude of his donation.“Ay,” cried he aloud, “a brave tree is known by its good[261]fruits, and gentle blood by its generosity. Well may ye ken a noble hand by the gift that comes from it; and well may ye ken a gallant and well-born knight by his noble port and presence, and by his liberal largess. Place there, I say, for Sir Patrick Hepborne—place there for the hero of Rosebarque!”“Silence, I entreat thee,” cried Hepborne, advancing with all eyes upon him, to meet the Earl of Moray, who was approaching to receive him.The magnificent Hall of Randolph presented at that moment one of the most brilliant spectacles that could well be conceived, graced as it then was with some of the flower of Scotland’s chivalry, who, with their ladies and attendants, shone in all the richest and gayest variety of silks, velvets, furs, and gaudy-coloured cloths, blazing with gold and embroidery, sparkling with gems, and heavy with curiously-wrought chains and other ornaments, while flaunting plumes fluttered about, giving a multiplied effect of motion, so that the whole area resembled one great tide of gorgeous grandeur, that was perpetually fluctuating, mixing, and changing.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl to Hepborne, “I believe thy sojournance abroad hath hitherto permitted thee to see but little of our Scottish chivauncie. It will be a pleasing task to me to make thee acquainted with such of them as are here; and it will give me yet greater jovisaunce to teach them to know thy merits. Let me then, first of all, introduce thee to my brother-in-law, Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife and Menteith, who, though he be but the King’s second son, is supposed, with some truth, to have the greatest share of the government of Scotland.”So saying, the Earl of Moray led Sir Patrick through the dividing crowd, towards the upper end of the hall, where a platform, raised about a foot above the rest, marked it as the place of honour. There they found a circle of knights surrounding a tall majestic man of commanding presence, whose countenance seemed to wear an expression of amiability, affability, and even of benignity, apparently put on for the occasion, like the ornaments he wore, but by no means forming a part of his character. His face was handsome, and Hepborne could just trace in it a faint likeness to his brother the Wolfe of Badenoch; but there was a lurking severity about the eye which his gracious looks could not altogether quench. He appeared to be highly courted by all about him, and from the smiles that mantled over the faces he successively looked at, he seemed to carry sunshine on his brow, and to scatter joy wherever he threw his eyes. Hepborne[262]only caught up the last of his words as he approached the group in the midst of which he stood.——“And if it should so please my liege-father,” said he to an elderly knight who stood bowing as he spoke,—“if it should so please my liege-father to throw the heavy burden of government on me, trust me, I shall not forget thy hitherto unrequited services. The debt thy country doth owe thee is indeed great, and thou hast hitherto been met with but small mountance of gratitude. But how enorme soever the debt may be, it shall be faithfully paid thee should I have any control.”“My Lord,” said the Earl of Moray, advancing, whilst the circle opened up to make way for him, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whom I promised thee to introduce to thy notice.”“Thanks, my good brother, for this so speedy fulfilment of thy behote,” replied the Earl of Fife. “Trust me, it giveth me exceeding joy to have this opportunity of knowing so valiant a knight, the son, too, of so brave and renowned a warrior, and one so sage in council, as the highly and justly respected Sir Patrick Hepborne of Hailes, who, to the great let and hinderance of his country’s weal, hath kept himself too much of late from the bustle of State affairs. But now that thou hast returned to thy native soil, Sir Patrick, we shall hope to see thee bear a part of that fardel, which thy gallant father might have been otherwise called on to support alone; for, if fame lie not, thy prudence bids fair to render thee as serviceable in the closet of council as thine arm hath already proved itself fit to defend the fame and rights of Scotland in the field.”“My Lord,” said Hepborne, “I fear much that fame hath done me but a left-handed service, by trumpeting forth merits the which I do but meagrely possess, and that public expectation hath been raised high, only to be the more cast down.”“Nay, trust me, Sir Patrick, there is small fear of that,” said the Earl of Moray.“Fear!” said the Earl of Fife; “I have had mine eyes ever on the branchers of the true breed, from whom Scotland and my father’s house must look to have falcons of the boldest and bravest cast; and none hath made promise of fairer flight than thou hast, Sir Patrick. True it is, that thou hast yet to be reclaimed, as the falconer would term it; that is, I would say, thou hast yet to learn what game to fly at. But I shall gladly teach thee, for it will give me real joy to direct the views, and advance the fortunes, of the son of my worthy old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne.”[263]“My Lord,” said Sir Patrick, “I am indeed much beholden to thy courtesy——”“Nay,” said the Earl of Fife, interrupting him, “nay, not to me or my courtesy, I promise thee, but to thine own worth only; for if the good old King my father, and my brother John, should force the regency of this kingdom on me, the duty I owe to them and to my country will never suffer me to give place or office to any but those who are fit and worthy to fill them; so thou hast to thank thyself and thine own good conduct, already so much bruited abroad, for the high opinion I have thus so early formed of thee, as well as for the desire I now feel to foster thy budding honours, and to bring out all thy latent talents for Scotland’s behoof.”“I am overwhelmed with your Lordship’s goodness,” said Hepborne, bowing. “Trust me, mine humble endeavours shall not be wanting to deserve this thy kind and early good opinion, formed, as I am disposed to guess, for my revered father’s sake, though thou art pleased to flatter me by assigning another cause.”“However that may be,” replied the Earl of Fife, squeezing him warmly by the hand, “thou mayest rely on me as thy sincere friend, Sir Patrick.—Ho! Sir John de Keith,” exclaimed he, suddenly breaking off, and joining a knight who bowed to him as he passed by, “I shall have that matter we talked of arranged for thee anon. The son of my old friend the Knight-Marischal of Scotland, and one for whom I have so high a personal regard, shall always command my most earnest endeavours to gratify his wishes. Walk with me apart, I pray thee. Thou knowest the money hath been——”But the rest of his discourse was lost in a whisper, and Hepborne’s attention was called off by the Earl of Moray, who introduced him to David Stewart, Earl of Stratherne and Caithness, another son of the King’s, though by a second wife. After a few expressions of mere compliment had passed between them, and the Earl of Stratherne had moved on,“Lindsay,” cried his noble host to a bold and determined-looking knight, who was elbowing his way through the crowd, with his lady hanging on his left arm, “Lindsay, I wish to make thee acquainted with Sir Patrick Hepborne, son of the gallant Sir Patrick of Hailes.—Sir Patrick, this is my brother-in-law, Sir David de Lindsay of Glenesk; and this is his lady, the Lady Catherine Stewart, sister to my Countess. Sir David is my most trusty and well-approved brother, and it would give me joy to see the bonds of amity drawn tight between you.”[264]The lady received Sir Patrick’s compliments most graciously; a cordial acknowledgment took place between the two knights; and Hepborne felt, that although there was less of protestation, there was a greater smack of sincerity in Lindsay than in the powerful Earl of Fife, who had said and promised so much.“Welcome to Scotland, Sir Patrick,” said he. “By St. Andrew, but I rejoice to see thee, for I have heard much of thee. What news, I pray thee, from foreign pa——”The word was broken off in the midde, for ere he had time to finish it, to the great astonishment of his lady, and the no small amusement of Hepborne and the Earl, he suddenly struck himself a violent blow on the cheek with the palm of his right hand. A roguish laugh burst from behind him. Lindsay quickly turned round.“Aha! Dalzell,” cried he, “so it was thou, wicked wag that thou art?”“’Tis indeed Sir William de Dalzell,” said Lady de Lindsay, laughing; “he is always at his mad tricks. There now, do but see what he is about; he is actually applying the tip of a long feather from a peacock’s tail to tickle the cheek of my sister Jane’s husband, the grave Sir Thomas Hay of Errol.”“How doth he dare to attack the august cheek of the High Constable of Scotland?” said the Earl of Moray, with a smile.“Nay, do but observe,” said Sir David Lindsay, “do but watch, I beseech thee, what strange and uncouth grimaces our brother-in-law, the High and Mighty Constable, is making, as the fibres of the delicate point of the feather titillate the skin of his cheek. Ah! ha, ha, ha! by the mass, but he hath given himself as hard a blow as I did, thinking to kill the fly.”“And see,” said the lady, “he hath suspected a trick; but he looks in vain for our waggish friend Dalzell, who hath dived like a duck and disappeared. Ha, ha, ha! see how strangely the High Constable eyes the solemn Earl of Sutherland near him, as if he half believed that grave personage was the perpetrator of the espièglerie. ’Twould be rare sport if he should tax him with it.”“’Twould be a rich treat indeed,” said Sir David Lindsay.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl of Moray, “come hither, I pray thee. Yonder comes James Earl of Douglas and Mar, with his Countess the Lady Margaret Stewart, another sister of my Margery’s.”“He is indeed a knight worth knowing,” said Hepborne.“This way, then, and I will introduce thee to him,” said the Earl of Moray.[265]Hepborne followed his host towards that part of the hall where the bold and Herculean Earl of Douglas was making his way with his lady slowly through the assembled company, who crowded eagerly around him to offer him their compliments. His manner was plain and dignified, and he behaved with kindness and affability to all who addressed him, though, on his part, he did not by any means seem to court notice. When Hepborne was brought up to him by his brother-in-law, and his name made known, he gave him a good soldierlike shake by the hand.“I am right glad to see thee in thine own country, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said he. “An I mistake not, some storm is a-brewing in England, that may cause us to want all the good lances which Scotland can muster. When King Dickon doth send these hawk-eyed ambassadors to talk of peace, depardieux, but I, for my part, am apt to smell war. My Lord of Fife sayeth that ’tis not so, and he is shrewd enough in common. I have mine own thoughts; but we shall see who is right, and that too ere many days are gone, an the signs of the times deceive me not.”“’Twere well that we young unschooled soldiers should have something to do, my Lord,” said Hepborne, “were it only to keep our swords from rusting, and lest we should forget our exercises, and such parts of the rudiments of war as chance hath taught us.”“Thou sayest well, my gallant young friend,” said the Douglas, his eyes flashing as he spoke, again shaking Hepborne heartily by the hand; “but thou art no such novice to forget thy trade so easily. Yet sayest thou well; piping times of peace are the ruin of our Scottish chivauncie, and stiffen the movements of even the most experienced warriors. Such sentiments as these, seasoned with so much modesty, are but what I mought have looked for from the son of that knight of sterling proof of heart as well as hand, my brave old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne, thy father.”Sir Patrick was more than gratified by the expressions of respect for his father which he had heard drop from every mouth. The blush of honest pride, mingled with that of warm filial affection, rose more that once to his cheek; but it never before mounted with such a rushing tide of joy as it did when this short panegyric fell from the lips of the heroic Douglas. He was not permitted time to reply, for all were so eager to have one word, nay, one glance of recognition from the brave Earl, that his attention was rifled from Hepborne, and he was[266]carried away before he could open his mouth to speak to him again.“Dost thou see yonder group?” demanded the Earl of Moray as he pointed them out to Sir Patrick. “The elderly knight and dame are William de Vaux, Lord of Dirleton, and his lady. The fair damosel seated behind them is their daughter, the Lady Jane de Vaux, held to be the loveliest of all the maidens who have come to honour this our tournament. Nay, she is indeed esteemed one of the fairest pearls of the Scottish Court, and a rich pearl she is, moreover, seeing she is the heiress of her father’s domains. The knight who lieth at her footstool, and sigheth enlangoured at her feet, effunding soft speeches from his heart, and gazing upwards with a species of adoration in his eyes, is the gallant Sir John Halyburton, who wears her favours, and bears her proud merits in high defiance on his lance’s point.”“Let me entreat your Lordship, who are those knights who come yonder so bravely arrayed?” said Hepborne.“Those,” replied the Earl, “are the English knights who lately came on ambassage. He in the purple velvet is the Lord Welles; that elder knight on his right hand, who showeth deportment so courteous, is the worthy Sir John Constable of Halsham and Burton, one who hath done good deeds of arms in his day; he that is so flauntingly attired in the peach-blossom surcoat so richly emblazoned, is the gay Sir Piers Courtenay; and immediately behind him is the stark Sir Thomas Fairfax of Walton. But stay, here comes my brother George, Earl of Dunbar and March. George,” cried he, addressing his brother as he passed, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whose father thou well knowest.”“I do,” said the Earl of Dunbar, energetically squeezing Hepborne’s hand, “and I shall not fail to receive the son of my dearest friend into my warmest affections for his father’s sake. How left ye thy gallant sire?”This question was but the preliminary to a long and friendly conversation between Hepborne and the Earl of Dunbar, which lasted until it was interrupted by a flourish of trumpets and clarions, announcing the entrance of the Grand Sewer, with a white wand in his hand. He advanced at the head of a perfect army of lacqueys, who brought in the feast, and the company began to be marshalled to their places by the pursuivants.[267]
CHAPTER XXXVI.The Castle of Tarnawa—Distinguished Guests.
The Castle of Tarnawa—Distinguished Guests.
The Castle of Tarnawa—Distinguished Guests.
The party now climbed the slope, on the summit of which the Castle rose grandly before them; and they were no sooner within its outer defences than they found every corner of it alive. Lacqueys and serving-men of all sorts, in all the variety of rich attire, were seen running about in every direction. Most of the noblemen and knights had already assembled to prepare for the tournament, and some of these, with their ladies and daughters, were inmates of the Castle. From the Earl of Moray’s particular regard and friendship for Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, an apartment was immediately assigned to his son; yet those who were favoured with lodgings at Tarnawa were but few in number compared with the many who were to be accommodated in the pavilions erected on the margin of the Mead. But as all were expected to assemble at the daily feast at the Castle, tables were laid for more than an hundred guests in Randolph’s Hall, where even a company of twice the number might have found ample room—this grand monument of feudal times covering an area of nearly an hundred feet in length.A Squire Usher promptly attended to show Sir Patrick to his chamber, where he unarmed, dressed, and perfumed himself; and when he had completed his attirement, the Squire Usher again appeared to conduct him to the great hall.“Nobles and chevaliers,” cried a pursuivant stationed at the entrance, “nobles and chevaliers, place there for Sir Patrick Hepborne, younger of Hailes, a puissant knight, of good stock and brave lineage, who but the other day overthrew the renowned Sir Rafe Piersie in single combat, which was nothing to his deeds of arms in France, for there——”“Good pursuivant,” said Hepborne, interrupting him, in an under voice, as he poured a liberal largess into his cap, “thou hast said enow—no more, I beseech thee.” But the pursuivant’s tongue was rather oiled than gagged by the unusual magnitude of his donation.“Ay,” cried he aloud, “a brave tree is known by its good[261]fruits, and gentle blood by its generosity. Well may ye ken a noble hand by the gift that comes from it; and well may ye ken a gallant and well-born knight by his noble port and presence, and by his liberal largess. Place there, I say, for Sir Patrick Hepborne—place there for the hero of Rosebarque!”“Silence, I entreat thee,” cried Hepborne, advancing with all eyes upon him, to meet the Earl of Moray, who was approaching to receive him.The magnificent Hall of Randolph presented at that moment one of the most brilliant spectacles that could well be conceived, graced as it then was with some of the flower of Scotland’s chivalry, who, with their ladies and attendants, shone in all the richest and gayest variety of silks, velvets, furs, and gaudy-coloured cloths, blazing with gold and embroidery, sparkling with gems, and heavy with curiously-wrought chains and other ornaments, while flaunting plumes fluttered about, giving a multiplied effect of motion, so that the whole area resembled one great tide of gorgeous grandeur, that was perpetually fluctuating, mixing, and changing.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl to Hepborne, “I believe thy sojournance abroad hath hitherto permitted thee to see but little of our Scottish chivauncie. It will be a pleasing task to me to make thee acquainted with such of them as are here; and it will give me yet greater jovisaunce to teach them to know thy merits. Let me then, first of all, introduce thee to my brother-in-law, Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife and Menteith, who, though he be but the King’s second son, is supposed, with some truth, to have the greatest share of the government of Scotland.”So saying, the Earl of Moray led Sir Patrick through the dividing crowd, towards the upper end of the hall, where a platform, raised about a foot above the rest, marked it as the place of honour. There they found a circle of knights surrounding a tall majestic man of commanding presence, whose countenance seemed to wear an expression of amiability, affability, and even of benignity, apparently put on for the occasion, like the ornaments he wore, but by no means forming a part of his character. His face was handsome, and Hepborne could just trace in it a faint likeness to his brother the Wolfe of Badenoch; but there was a lurking severity about the eye which his gracious looks could not altogether quench. He appeared to be highly courted by all about him, and from the smiles that mantled over the faces he successively looked at, he seemed to carry sunshine on his brow, and to scatter joy wherever he threw his eyes. Hepborne[262]only caught up the last of his words as he approached the group in the midst of which he stood.——“And if it should so please my liege-father,” said he to an elderly knight who stood bowing as he spoke,—“if it should so please my liege-father to throw the heavy burden of government on me, trust me, I shall not forget thy hitherto unrequited services. The debt thy country doth owe thee is indeed great, and thou hast hitherto been met with but small mountance of gratitude. But how enorme soever the debt may be, it shall be faithfully paid thee should I have any control.”“My Lord,” said the Earl of Moray, advancing, whilst the circle opened up to make way for him, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whom I promised thee to introduce to thy notice.”“Thanks, my good brother, for this so speedy fulfilment of thy behote,” replied the Earl of Fife. “Trust me, it giveth me exceeding joy to have this opportunity of knowing so valiant a knight, the son, too, of so brave and renowned a warrior, and one so sage in council, as the highly and justly respected Sir Patrick Hepborne of Hailes, who, to the great let and hinderance of his country’s weal, hath kept himself too much of late from the bustle of State affairs. But now that thou hast returned to thy native soil, Sir Patrick, we shall hope to see thee bear a part of that fardel, which thy gallant father might have been otherwise called on to support alone; for, if fame lie not, thy prudence bids fair to render thee as serviceable in the closet of council as thine arm hath already proved itself fit to defend the fame and rights of Scotland in the field.”“My Lord,” said Hepborne, “I fear much that fame hath done me but a left-handed service, by trumpeting forth merits the which I do but meagrely possess, and that public expectation hath been raised high, only to be the more cast down.”“Nay, trust me, Sir Patrick, there is small fear of that,” said the Earl of Moray.“Fear!” said the Earl of Fife; “I have had mine eyes ever on the branchers of the true breed, from whom Scotland and my father’s house must look to have falcons of the boldest and bravest cast; and none hath made promise of fairer flight than thou hast, Sir Patrick. True it is, that thou hast yet to be reclaimed, as the falconer would term it; that is, I would say, thou hast yet to learn what game to fly at. But I shall gladly teach thee, for it will give me real joy to direct the views, and advance the fortunes, of the son of my worthy old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne.”[263]“My Lord,” said Sir Patrick, “I am indeed much beholden to thy courtesy——”“Nay,” said the Earl of Fife, interrupting him, “nay, not to me or my courtesy, I promise thee, but to thine own worth only; for if the good old King my father, and my brother John, should force the regency of this kingdom on me, the duty I owe to them and to my country will never suffer me to give place or office to any but those who are fit and worthy to fill them; so thou hast to thank thyself and thine own good conduct, already so much bruited abroad, for the high opinion I have thus so early formed of thee, as well as for the desire I now feel to foster thy budding honours, and to bring out all thy latent talents for Scotland’s behoof.”“I am overwhelmed with your Lordship’s goodness,” said Hepborne, bowing. “Trust me, mine humble endeavours shall not be wanting to deserve this thy kind and early good opinion, formed, as I am disposed to guess, for my revered father’s sake, though thou art pleased to flatter me by assigning another cause.”“However that may be,” replied the Earl of Fife, squeezing him warmly by the hand, “thou mayest rely on me as thy sincere friend, Sir Patrick.—Ho! Sir John de Keith,” exclaimed he, suddenly breaking off, and joining a knight who bowed to him as he passed by, “I shall have that matter we talked of arranged for thee anon. The son of my old friend the Knight-Marischal of Scotland, and one for whom I have so high a personal regard, shall always command my most earnest endeavours to gratify his wishes. Walk with me apart, I pray thee. Thou knowest the money hath been——”But the rest of his discourse was lost in a whisper, and Hepborne’s attention was called off by the Earl of Moray, who introduced him to David Stewart, Earl of Stratherne and Caithness, another son of the King’s, though by a second wife. After a few expressions of mere compliment had passed between them, and the Earl of Stratherne had moved on,“Lindsay,” cried his noble host to a bold and determined-looking knight, who was elbowing his way through the crowd, with his lady hanging on his left arm, “Lindsay, I wish to make thee acquainted with Sir Patrick Hepborne, son of the gallant Sir Patrick of Hailes.—Sir Patrick, this is my brother-in-law, Sir David de Lindsay of Glenesk; and this is his lady, the Lady Catherine Stewart, sister to my Countess. Sir David is my most trusty and well-approved brother, and it would give me joy to see the bonds of amity drawn tight between you.”[264]The lady received Sir Patrick’s compliments most graciously; a cordial acknowledgment took place between the two knights; and Hepborne felt, that although there was less of protestation, there was a greater smack of sincerity in Lindsay than in the powerful Earl of Fife, who had said and promised so much.“Welcome to Scotland, Sir Patrick,” said he. “By St. Andrew, but I rejoice to see thee, for I have heard much of thee. What news, I pray thee, from foreign pa——”The word was broken off in the midde, for ere he had time to finish it, to the great astonishment of his lady, and the no small amusement of Hepborne and the Earl, he suddenly struck himself a violent blow on the cheek with the palm of his right hand. A roguish laugh burst from behind him. Lindsay quickly turned round.“Aha! Dalzell,” cried he, “so it was thou, wicked wag that thou art?”“’Tis indeed Sir William de Dalzell,” said Lady de Lindsay, laughing; “he is always at his mad tricks. There now, do but see what he is about; he is actually applying the tip of a long feather from a peacock’s tail to tickle the cheek of my sister Jane’s husband, the grave Sir Thomas Hay of Errol.”“How doth he dare to attack the august cheek of the High Constable of Scotland?” said the Earl of Moray, with a smile.“Nay, do but observe,” said Sir David Lindsay, “do but watch, I beseech thee, what strange and uncouth grimaces our brother-in-law, the High and Mighty Constable, is making, as the fibres of the delicate point of the feather titillate the skin of his cheek. Ah! ha, ha, ha! by the mass, but he hath given himself as hard a blow as I did, thinking to kill the fly.”“And see,” said the lady, “he hath suspected a trick; but he looks in vain for our waggish friend Dalzell, who hath dived like a duck and disappeared. Ha, ha, ha! see how strangely the High Constable eyes the solemn Earl of Sutherland near him, as if he half believed that grave personage was the perpetrator of the espièglerie. ’Twould be rare sport if he should tax him with it.”“’Twould be a rich treat indeed,” said Sir David Lindsay.“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl of Moray, “come hither, I pray thee. Yonder comes James Earl of Douglas and Mar, with his Countess the Lady Margaret Stewart, another sister of my Margery’s.”“He is indeed a knight worth knowing,” said Hepborne.“This way, then, and I will introduce thee to him,” said the Earl of Moray.[265]Hepborne followed his host towards that part of the hall where the bold and Herculean Earl of Douglas was making his way with his lady slowly through the assembled company, who crowded eagerly around him to offer him their compliments. His manner was plain and dignified, and he behaved with kindness and affability to all who addressed him, though, on his part, he did not by any means seem to court notice. When Hepborne was brought up to him by his brother-in-law, and his name made known, he gave him a good soldierlike shake by the hand.“I am right glad to see thee in thine own country, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said he. “An I mistake not, some storm is a-brewing in England, that may cause us to want all the good lances which Scotland can muster. When King Dickon doth send these hawk-eyed ambassadors to talk of peace, depardieux, but I, for my part, am apt to smell war. My Lord of Fife sayeth that ’tis not so, and he is shrewd enough in common. I have mine own thoughts; but we shall see who is right, and that too ere many days are gone, an the signs of the times deceive me not.”“’Twere well that we young unschooled soldiers should have something to do, my Lord,” said Hepborne, “were it only to keep our swords from rusting, and lest we should forget our exercises, and such parts of the rudiments of war as chance hath taught us.”“Thou sayest well, my gallant young friend,” said the Douglas, his eyes flashing as he spoke, again shaking Hepborne heartily by the hand; “but thou art no such novice to forget thy trade so easily. Yet sayest thou well; piping times of peace are the ruin of our Scottish chivauncie, and stiffen the movements of even the most experienced warriors. Such sentiments as these, seasoned with so much modesty, are but what I mought have looked for from the son of that knight of sterling proof of heart as well as hand, my brave old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne, thy father.”Sir Patrick was more than gratified by the expressions of respect for his father which he had heard drop from every mouth. The blush of honest pride, mingled with that of warm filial affection, rose more that once to his cheek; but it never before mounted with such a rushing tide of joy as it did when this short panegyric fell from the lips of the heroic Douglas. He was not permitted time to reply, for all were so eager to have one word, nay, one glance of recognition from the brave Earl, that his attention was rifled from Hepborne, and he was[266]carried away before he could open his mouth to speak to him again.“Dost thou see yonder group?” demanded the Earl of Moray as he pointed them out to Sir Patrick. “The elderly knight and dame are William de Vaux, Lord of Dirleton, and his lady. The fair damosel seated behind them is their daughter, the Lady Jane de Vaux, held to be the loveliest of all the maidens who have come to honour this our tournament. Nay, she is indeed esteemed one of the fairest pearls of the Scottish Court, and a rich pearl she is, moreover, seeing she is the heiress of her father’s domains. The knight who lieth at her footstool, and sigheth enlangoured at her feet, effunding soft speeches from his heart, and gazing upwards with a species of adoration in his eyes, is the gallant Sir John Halyburton, who wears her favours, and bears her proud merits in high defiance on his lance’s point.”“Let me entreat your Lordship, who are those knights who come yonder so bravely arrayed?” said Hepborne.“Those,” replied the Earl, “are the English knights who lately came on ambassage. He in the purple velvet is the Lord Welles; that elder knight on his right hand, who showeth deportment so courteous, is the worthy Sir John Constable of Halsham and Burton, one who hath done good deeds of arms in his day; he that is so flauntingly attired in the peach-blossom surcoat so richly emblazoned, is the gay Sir Piers Courtenay; and immediately behind him is the stark Sir Thomas Fairfax of Walton. But stay, here comes my brother George, Earl of Dunbar and March. George,” cried he, addressing his brother as he passed, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whose father thou well knowest.”“I do,” said the Earl of Dunbar, energetically squeezing Hepborne’s hand, “and I shall not fail to receive the son of my dearest friend into my warmest affections for his father’s sake. How left ye thy gallant sire?”This question was but the preliminary to a long and friendly conversation between Hepborne and the Earl of Dunbar, which lasted until it was interrupted by a flourish of trumpets and clarions, announcing the entrance of the Grand Sewer, with a white wand in his hand. He advanced at the head of a perfect army of lacqueys, who brought in the feast, and the company began to be marshalled to their places by the pursuivants.[267]
The party now climbed the slope, on the summit of which the Castle rose grandly before them; and they were no sooner within its outer defences than they found every corner of it alive. Lacqueys and serving-men of all sorts, in all the variety of rich attire, were seen running about in every direction. Most of the noblemen and knights had already assembled to prepare for the tournament, and some of these, with their ladies and daughters, were inmates of the Castle. From the Earl of Moray’s particular regard and friendship for Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, an apartment was immediately assigned to his son; yet those who were favoured with lodgings at Tarnawa were but few in number compared with the many who were to be accommodated in the pavilions erected on the margin of the Mead. But as all were expected to assemble at the daily feast at the Castle, tables were laid for more than an hundred guests in Randolph’s Hall, where even a company of twice the number might have found ample room—this grand monument of feudal times covering an area of nearly an hundred feet in length.
A Squire Usher promptly attended to show Sir Patrick to his chamber, where he unarmed, dressed, and perfumed himself; and when he had completed his attirement, the Squire Usher again appeared to conduct him to the great hall.
“Nobles and chevaliers,” cried a pursuivant stationed at the entrance, “nobles and chevaliers, place there for Sir Patrick Hepborne, younger of Hailes, a puissant knight, of good stock and brave lineage, who but the other day overthrew the renowned Sir Rafe Piersie in single combat, which was nothing to his deeds of arms in France, for there——”
“Good pursuivant,” said Hepborne, interrupting him, in an under voice, as he poured a liberal largess into his cap, “thou hast said enow—no more, I beseech thee.” But the pursuivant’s tongue was rather oiled than gagged by the unusual magnitude of his donation.
“Ay,” cried he aloud, “a brave tree is known by its good[261]fruits, and gentle blood by its generosity. Well may ye ken a noble hand by the gift that comes from it; and well may ye ken a gallant and well-born knight by his noble port and presence, and by his liberal largess. Place there, I say, for Sir Patrick Hepborne—place there for the hero of Rosebarque!”
“Silence, I entreat thee,” cried Hepborne, advancing with all eyes upon him, to meet the Earl of Moray, who was approaching to receive him.
The magnificent Hall of Randolph presented at that moment one of the most brilliant spectacles that could well be conceived, graced as it then was with some of the flower of Scotland’s chivalry, who, with their ladies and attendants, shone in all the richest and gayest variety of silks, velvets, furs, and gaudy-coloured cloths, blazing with gold and embroidery, sparkling with gems, and heavy with curiously-wrought chains and other ornaments, while flaunting plumes fluttered about, giving a multiplied effect of motion, so that the whole area resembled one great tide of gorgeous grandeur, that was perpetually fluctuating, mixing, and changing.
“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl to Hepborne, “I believe thy sojournance abroad hath hitherto permitted thee to see but little of our Scottish chivauncie. It will be a pleasing task to me to make thee acquainted with such of them as are here; and it will give me yet greater jovisaunce to teach them to know thy merits. Let me then, first of all, introduce thee to my brother-in-law, Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife and Menteith, who, though he be but the King’s second son, is supposed, with some truth, to have the greatest share of the government of Scotland.”
So saying, the Earl of Moray led Sir Patrick through the dividing crowd, towards the upper end of the hall, where a platform, raised about a foot above the rest, marked it as the place of honour. There they found a circle of knights surrounding a tall majestic man of commanding presence, whose countenance seemed to wear an expression of amiability, affability, and even of benignity, apparently put on for the occasion, like the ornaments he wore, but by no means forming a part of his character. His face was handsome, and Hepborne could just trace in it a faint likeness to his brother the Wolfe of Badenoch; but there was a lurking severity about the eye which his gracious looks could not altogether quench. He appeared to be highly courted by all about him, and from the smiles that mantled over the faces he successively looked at, he seemed to carry sunshine on his brow, and to scatter joy wherever he threw his eyes. Hepborne[262]only caught up the last of his words as he approached the group in the midst of which he stood.
——“And if it should so please my liege-father,” said he to an elderly knight who stood bowing as he spoke,—“if it should so please my liege-father to throw the heavy burden of government on me, trust me, I shall not forget thy hitherto unrequited services. The debt thy country doth owe thee is indeed great, and thou hast hitherto been met with but small mountance of gratitude. But how enorme soever the debt may be, it shall be faithfully paid thee should I have any control.”
“My Lord,” said the Earl of Moray, advancing, whilst the circle opened up to make way for him, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whom I promised thee to introduce to thy notice.”
“Thanks, my good brother, for this so speedy fulfilment of thy behote,” replied the Earl of Fife. “Trust me, it giveth me exceeding joy to have this opportunity of knowing so valiant a knight, the son, too, of so brave and renowned a warrior, and one so sage in council, as the highly and justly respected Sir Patrick Hepborne of Hailes, who, to the great let and hinderance of his country’s weal, hath kept himself too much of late from the bustle of State affairs. But now that thou hast returned to thy native soil, Sir Patrick, we shall hope to see thee bear a part of that fardel, which thy gallant father might have been otherwise called on to support alone; for, if fame lie not, thy prudence bids fair to render thee as serviceable in the closet of council as thine arm hath already proved itself fit to defend the fame and rights of Scotland in the field.”
“My Lord,” said Hepborne, “I fear much that fame hath done me but a left-handed service, by trumpeting forth merits the which I do but meagrely possess, and that public expectation hath been raised high, only to be the more cast down.”
“Nay, trust me, Sir Patrick, there is small fear of that,” said the Earl of Moray.
“Fear!” said the Earl of Fife; “I have had mine eyes ever on the branchers of the true breed, from whom Scotland and my father’s house must look to have falcons of the boldest and bravest cast; and none hath made promise of fairer flight than thou hast, Sir Patrick. True it is, that thou hast yet to be reclaimed, as the falconer would term it; that is, I would say, thou hast yet to learn what game to fly at. But I shall gladly teach thee, for it will give me real joy to direct the views, and advance the fortunes, of the son of my worthy old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne.”[263]
“My Lord,” said Sir Patrick, “I am indeed much beholden to thy courtesy——”
“Nay,” said the Earl of Fife, interrupting him, “nay, not to me or my courtesy, I promise thee, but to thine own worth only; for if the good old King my father, and my brother John, should force the regency of this kingdom on me, the duty I owe to them and to my country will never suffer me to give place or office to any but those who are fit and worthy to fill them; so thou hast to thank thyself and thine own good conduct, already so much bruited abroad, for the high opinion I have thus so early formed of thee, as well as for the desire I now feel to foster thy budding honours, and to bring out all thy latent talents for Scotland’s behoof.”
“I am overwhelmed with your Lordship’s goodness,” said Hepborne, bowing. “Trust me, mine humble endeavours shall not be wanting to deserve this thy kind and early good opinion, formed, as I am disposed to guess, for my revered father’s sake, though thou art pleased to flatter me by assigning another cause.”
“However that may be,” replied the Earl of Fife, squeezing him warmly by the hand, “thou mayest rely on me as thy sincere friend, Sir Patrick.—Ho! Sir John de Keith,” exclaimed he, suddenly breaking off, and joining a knight who bowed to him as he passed by, “I shall have that matter we talked of arranged for thee anon. The son of my old friend the Knight-Marischal of Scotland, and one for whom I have so high a personal regard, shall always command my most earnest endeavours to gratify his wishes. Walk with me apart, I pray thee. Thou knowest the money hath been——”
But the rest of his discourse was lost in a whisper, and Hepborne’s attention was called off by the Earl of Moray, who introduced him to David Stewart, Earl of Stratherne and Caithness, another son of the King’s, though by a second wife. After a few expressions of mere compliment had passed between them, and the Earl of Stratherne had moved on,
“Lindsay,” cried his noble host to a bold and determined-looking knight, who was elbowing his way through the crowd, with his lady hanging on his left arm, “Lindsay, I wish to make thee acquainted with Sir Patrick Hepborne, son of the gallant Sir Patrick of Hailes.—Sir Patrick, this is my brother-in-law, Sir David de Lindsay of Glenesk; and this is his lady, the Lady Catherine Stewart, sister to my Countess. Sir David is my most trusty and well-approved brother, and it would give me joy to see the bonds of amity drawn tight between you.”[264]
The lady received Sir Patrick’s compliments most graciously; a cordial acknowledgment took place between the two knights; and Hepborne felt, that although there was less of protestation, there was a greater smack of sincerity in Lindsay than in the powerful Earl of Fife, who had said and promised so much.
“Welcome to Scotland, Sir Patrick,” said he. “By St. Andrew, but I rejoice to see thee, for I have heard much of thee. What news, I pray thee, from foreign pa——”
The word was broken off in the midde, for ere he had time to finish it, to the great astonishment of his lady, and the no small amusement of Hepborne and the Earl, he suddenly struck himself a violent blow on the cheek with the palm of his right hand. A roguish laugh burst from behind him. Lindsay quickly turned round.
“Aha! Dalzell,” cried he, “so it was thou, wicked wag that thou art?”
“’Tis indeed Sir William de Dalzell,” said Lady de Lindsay, laughing; “he is always at his mad tricks. There now, do but see what he is about; he is actually applying the tip of a long feather from a peacock’s tail to tickle the cheek of my sister Jane’s husband, the grave Sir Thomas Hay of Errol.”
“How doth he dare to attack the august cheek of the High Constable of Scotland?” said the Earl of Moray, with a smile.
“Nay, do but observe,” said Sir David Lindsay, “do but watch, I beseech thee, what strange and uncouth grimaces our brother-in-law, the High and Mighty Constable, is making, as the fibres of the delicate point of the feather titillate the skin of his cheek. Ah! ha, ha, ha! by the mass, but he hath given himself as hard a blow as I did, thinking to kill the fly.”
“And see,” said the lady, “he hath suspected a trick; but he looks in vain for our waggish friend Dalzell, who hath dived like a duck and disappeared. Ha, ha, ha! see how strangely the High Constable eyes the solemn Earl of Sutherland near him, as if he half believed that grave personage was the perpetrator of the espièglerie. ’Twould be rare sport if he should tax him with it.”
“’Twould be a rich treat indeed,” said Sir David Lindsay.
“Sir Patrick,” said the Earl of Moray, “come hither, I pray thee. Yonder comes James Earl of Douglas and Mar, with his Countess the Lady Margaret Stewart, another sister of my Margery’s.”
“He is indeed a knight worth knowing,” said Hepborne.
“This way, then, and I will introduce thee to him,” said the Earl of Moray.[265]
Hepborne followed his host towards that part of the hall where the bold and Herculean Earl of Douglas was making his way with his lady slowly through the assembled company, who crowded eagerly around him to offer him their compliments. His manner was plain and dignified, and he behaved with kindness and affability to all who addressed him, though, on his part, he did not by any means seem to court notice. When Hepborne was brought up to him by his brother-in-law, and his name made known, he gave him a good soldierlike shake by the hand.
“I am right glad to see thee in thine own country, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” said he. “An I mistake not, some storm is a-brewing in England, that may cause us to want all the good lances which Scotland can muster. When King Dickon doth send these hawk-eyed ambassadors to talk of peace, depardieux, but I, for my part, am apt to smell war. My Lord of Fife sayeth that ’tis not so, and he is shrewd enough in common. I have mine own thoughts; but we shall see who is right, and that too ere many days are gone, an the signs of the times deceive me not.”
“’Twere well that we young unschooled soldiers should have something to do, my Lord,” said Hepborne, “were it only to keep our swords from rusting, and lest we should forget our exercises, and such parts of the rudiments of war as chance hath taught us.”
“Thou sayest well, my gallant young friend,” said the Douglas, his eyes flashing as he spoke, again shaking Hepborne heartily by the hand; “but thou art no such novice to forget thy trade so easily. Yet sayest thou well; piping times of peace are the ruin of our Scottish chivauncie, and stiffen the movements of even the most experienced warriors. Such sentiments as these, seasoned with so much modesty, are but what I mought have looked for from the son of that knight of sterling proof of heart as well as hand, my brave old friend Sir Patrick Hepborne, thy father.”
Sir Patrick was more than gratified by the expressions of respect for his father which he had heard drop from every mouth. The blush of honest pride, mingled with that of warm filial affection, rose more that once to his cheek; but it never before mounted with such a rushing tide of joy as it did when this short panegyric fell from the lips of the heroic Douglas. He was not permitted time to reply, for all were so eager to have one word, nay, one glance of recognition from the brave Earl, that his attention was rifled from Hepborne, and he was[266]carried away before he could open his mouth to speak to him again.
“Dost thou see yonder group?” demanded the Earl of Moray as he pointed them out to Sir Patrick. “The elderly knight and dame are William de Vaux, Lord of Dirleton, and his lady. The fair damosel seated behind them is their daughter, the Lady Jane de Vaux, held to be the loveliest of all the maidens who have come to honour this our tournament. Nay, she is indeed esteemed one of the fairest pearls of the Scottish Court, and a rich pearl she is, moreover, seeing she is the heiress of her father’s domains. The knight who lieth at her footstool, and sigheth enlangoured at her feet, effunding soft speeches from his heart, and gazing upwards with a species of adoration in his eyes, is the gallant Sir John Halyburton, who wears her favours, and bears her proud merits in high defiance on his lance’s point.”
“Let me entreat your Lordship, who are those knights who come yonder so bravely arrayed?” said Hepborne.
“Those,” replied the Earl, “are the English knights who lately came on ambassage. He in the purple velvet is the Lord Welles; that elder knight on his right hand, who showeth deportment so courteous, is the worthy Sir John Constable of Halsham and Burton, one who hath done good deeds of arms in his day; he that is so flauntingly attired in the peach-blossom surcoat so richly emblazoned, is the gay Sir Piers Courtenay; and immediately behind him is the stark Sir Thomas Fairfax of Walton. But stay, here comes my brother George, Earl of Dunbar and March. George,” cried he, addressing his brother as he passed, “this is Sir Patrick Hepborne, whose father thou well knowest.”
“I do,” said the Earl of Dunbar, energetically squeezing Hepborne’s hand, “and I shall not fail to receive the son of my dearest friend into my warmest affections for his father’s sake. How left ye thy gallant sire?”
This question was but the preliminary to a long and friendly conversation between Hepborne and the Earl of Dunbar, which lasted until it was interrupted by a flourish of trumpets and clarions, announcing the entrance of the Grand Sewer, with a white wand in his hand. He advanced at the head of a perfect army of lacqueys, who brought in the feast, and the company began to be marshalled to their places by the pursuivants.[267]