Volume I Part 12 (1/2)
During all the former part of the siege he had conducted himself with an eye to Douglas' failure, to which he was partly incited by the prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer, and those of his kinsman, Master Michael Scott of Oakwood, whom he believed the most powerful wizard, and the greatest prophet, that ever had arisen since the Rhymer's days.
But, on the return of Charlie of Yardbire and Dan Chisholm from the beleaguering army, the warden got the extraordinary intelligence, that the Lady Jane Howard had fallen into the hands of the Douglas, as well as Musgrave's only brother. These things changed Sir Ringan's prospects of the future in a very material degree, and he pondered on changing his mode of operations. Before doing so, however, he called a council of his kinsmen, and brought the matter again before them. Most of them counselled the continuance of the predatory warfare in which they had been engaged; it had served to enrich them, and had proved, as they reasoned, of more service to the Douglas than if they had joined his host. That it proved of more service to himself and his kinsmen than if they had joined the host, the warden was well aware; but he was not satisfied that the Douglas viewed their mountain warfare as of great consequence to him; and he farther knew, that services were always repaid, not according to the toil and exertion undergone, but according as they were estimated, while that estimation was ever and anon modelled by the apparent motives of the performer.
After much slow and inanimate reasoning on the matter, Sir Ringan chanced, after a minute's deep thought, to say, ”What would I not give to know the events that are to happen at Roxburgh between this time and the end of the Christmas holidays?”
”Auld Michael Scott will ken brawly,” said Charlie of Yardbire.
”Then, what for shoudna we ken too?” said the knight.
”Aye, what for shoudna we ken too?” said d.i.c.kie o' Dryhope.
”They might get a kittle cast that meddled wi' him, an' nae the wiser after a',” said Robert of Howpasley.
”When he was at pains to come a' the way to the castle of Mountcomyn,”
said Simon Longspeare, ”a matter o' five Scots miles ower the moor, to warn our captain, the warden, how to row his bowls, he surely winna refuse to tell him what's to be the final issue o' this daft contest.”
”Ane wad think he wadna spare a cantrip or twa,” said Sir Ringan; ”him that has spirits at his ca', an' canna get them hadden i' wark. It wad be an easy matter for him; an' blood's aye thicker than water.”
”Ay, that's a true tale,” said d.i.c.kie o' Dryhope; ”It wad be an easy matter for him, we a' ken that; an' blood's aye thicker than water!”
”If I were to gang wi' a gallant retinue,” said Sir Ringan, ”he surely wadna refuse to gie me some answer.”
”He wad refuse the king o' France,” said Robert of Howpasley, ”if he warna i' the key for human conversation, an' maybe gar his familiar spirits carry you away, and thraw ye into the sea, or set you down i'
some faraway land, for a piece o' employment to them, and amus.e.m.e.nt to himsel'. He has served mony ane that gate afore now.”
”Od I'll defy him,” said muckle Charlie of Yardbire. ”If my master, the warden, likes to tak me wi' him for his elbowman, I'll answer for him against a' the monkey spirits that auld Michael has.”
”Spoke like yourself, honest Charlie!” said the baron; ”and if it is judged meet by my friends that I should go, you shall be one that shall attend me. Certes, it would be of incalculable benefit to me, for all your sakes, to know even by a small hint what is to be the upshot of this business--But should I be taken away or detained--”
”Ay, should he be taken away or detained, gentlemen: think of that, gentlemen,” said d.i.c.kie o' Dryhope.
”I approve highly of the mission,” said Simon Longspeare; ”for I believe there is nothing too hard for that old wizard to do, and no event so closely sealed up in futurity, but that he can calculate with a good deal of certainty on the issue. I see that our all depends on our knowledge of the event; but I disapprove of our chief attending on the wizard in person--for in his absence who is to be our commander? And, should any sudden rising of our foes take place, of which we are every hour uncertain, we may lose more by the want of him one hour than we could ever regain.”
”Ay, think of that, gentlemen,” said d.i.c.kie: ”My cousin Longspeare speaks good sense. What could we do wanting Sir Ringan. We're all children to him, and little better without him.”
”And old children are the worst of all children,” said the warden; ”I would rather be deaved with the teething yammer than the toothless chatter. Prithee, peace, and let us hear out our cousin Simon's proposal.”
The circle of the gallant kinsmen did not like ill to hear this snub on old d.i.c.kie. They could not account for the chief's partiality to him; and they were even afraid that, being the oldest man, he should be nominated to the command in the knight's absence. It was however noted by all, that d.i.c.kie was not half so great a man in field or foray as he was at board in the castle of Mountcomyn. Only a very few men of experience discerned the bottom of this. The truth was, that Sir Ringan did not care a doit either for d.i.c.kie's counsels or his arm, but he saw that his lady abhorred him, and therefore he would not yield to cast him off. His lady was of a high spirit and proud unyielding temper, and the knight could not stand his own with her at all times and seasons; but before his kinsmen warriors he was particularly jealous of his dignity, and would not yield to the encroachment on it of a single item. It was by this kind of elemental opposition, if it may be so termed, that d.i.c.kie maintained his consequence at the warden's castle. In the field he was nothing more than a foolish vain old kinsman.
”I propose,” said Longspeare,” that we send a deputation of our _notable men_ to the warlock, of whom we have some of the first that perhaps ever the world produced. As a bard, or minstrel, we can send Colley Carol, a man that is fit to charm the spirits out of the heart of the earth, or the bowels of the cloud, without the aid of old Michael. As a man of crabbed wit and endless absurdity, we can send the Deil's Tam: As a true natural and moral philosopher, the Laird o' the Peatstacknowe: As one versed in all the mysteries of religion, and many mysteries beside, or some tell lies, we can send the gospel friar. All these are men of spirit, and can handle the sword and the bow either less or more: And as a man of unequalled strength and courage, and a guard and captain over all the rest, we can send Charlie o' Yardbire--and I will defy all the kingdoms of Europe to send out sic another quorum either to emperor, Turk, wizard, or the devil himself.”
Every one applauded Simon Longspeare's motion, and declared the deputation worthy of being sent out, if it were for nothing but its own unrivalled excellence. Never, they said, since the mind of man was framed, was there such a combination of rare talent in so small a circle. There was none of those nominated for the mission present excepting muckle Charlie Scott. Charlie scratched his head, and said:--”Gude faith, callans, I hae a queer bike to gang wi! he-he-he! I fear we'll get mae to laugh at us than gie us ought: The Deil's Tam an' the metre poet! the fat gospel friar, and the laird o' the Peatstacknowe! I never gaed out on sic a foray as this afore, an' little do I wot how we'll come on. He-he-he! A wheen queer chaps, faith!”
The jocund kinsmen then shouted to Gibby Jordan of the Peatstacknowe to come into the circle, that they might hear what he had to say about going on this celebrated emba.s.sy. This gentleman's name had erst been Gordon: By some mistake, either in spelling, or falling into some foul tub by night, for some grounded it both ways, it had been changed on him to Jordan, and, as he had no resource, he was obliged to admit it as legitimate. He was a man of education, and could read, write, and cast up accounts. But his figure, features, and the nasal twine with which he p.r.o.nounced every word that he spoke, rendered his discourse irresistibly ludicrous. Every one was so ready to give Jordan the information, that he was chosen as one to go on a deputation to Master Michael Scott the warlock, that the laird for a long time could not get a word said; but stood and looked about him, turning always round his long nose to the speaker that was loudest, or him that was poking him most forcibly to obtain attention.
”Gentlemen,” said Gibby Jordan, ”you mind me of a story that I have heard about a paddock that was lying on the plowed land, an' by comes the harrows, an' they gangs out ower the tap o' the poor paddock, an'
every tooth gae her a t.i.te an' a turn ower. 'What's the matter wi' you the day, Mrs Paddock?' says the goodman: 'Naething ava, but rather ower mony masters this morning,' quo' the paddock; 'I wish I were safe i' my hole again, an' let them ring on.' Sae master's, I'll tak the paddock's hint, an' wish ye a' a good morning.”
There was no such escape for the honest laird; they surrounded him, and insisted on hearing his sentiments at full length, teasing him till he began to lose his temper, a thing in which they delighted, for the more mischief the better sport for these wild border moss-troopers. But muckle Charlie perceiving this, came up to his side. ”Callants, I'm appoint.i.t Gibby's guard,” said he, ”an' his guard I'll be. What the deil has ony o' you to say to him?”
”Only to hear what he thinks o' the journey,” was repeated on all sides.
”Gentlemen,” said Gibby, ”the hale affair brings me a-mind of a story that I hae heard about a wife that had a batch o' chickens. But then, ye maun mind, gentlemen, she had a very great deal o' chickens, I daresay nae fewer than a hunner, for she had sax great cleckings; an' she was unco feared that the gled wad tak them away; sae she wales out a wheen o' the fattest an' the best, an' she sends them out to the c.o.c.k, that he might herd an' tak care o' them. 'The c.o.c.k will fleg away the gleds,'
quo she, 'an' gar them keep their distance, an' I'll get my braw birds a' saved.' But by comes the greedy gled; an' when the c.o.c.k saw him he croups an' he currs; an' blithe to keep his ain skin hale, he staps his head in a hole, an' the gled carried off the hale o' his bit charge.