For this are all these warriors come, To hear an idle tale; And o'er our
death-accustom'd arms Shall silly tears prevail?
HENRY MACKENZIE.
ON the evening of the day when the Lord Keeper and his daughter were saved
from such imminent peril, two strangers were seated in the most private
apartment of a small obscure inn, or rather alehouse, called the Tod's Den
[Hole], about three or four [five or six] miles from the Castle of Ravenswood
and as far from the ruinous tower of Wolf's Crag, betwixt which two places it
was situated.
One of these strangers was about forty years of age, tall, and thin in the
flanks, with an aquiline nose, dark penetrating eyes, and a shrewd but sinister
cast of countenance. The other was about fifteen years younger, short, stout,
ruddy-faced, and red-haired, with an open, resolute, and cheerful eye, to which
careless and fearless freedom and inward daring gave fire and expression,
notwithstanding its light grey colour. A stoup of wine (for in those days it was
erved out from the cask in pewter flagons) was placed on the table, and each had
his quaigh or bicker before him. But there was little appearance of
conviviality. With folded arms, and looks of anxious expectation, they eyed each
other in silence, each wrapt in his own thoughts, and holding no communication
with his neighbour. At length the younger broke silence by exclaiming: "What the
foul fiend can detain the Master so long? He must have miscarried in his
enterprise. Why did you dissuade me from going with him?"
"One man is enough to right his own wrong," said the taller and older
personage; "we venture our lives for him in coming thus far on such an errand."
"Yopu are but a craven after all, Craigengelt," answered the younger, "and
that's what many folk have thought you before now." "But what none has dared to
tell me," said Craigengelt, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword; "and, but
that I hold a hasty man no better than a fool, I would----" he paused for his
companion's answer.
"WOULD you?" said the other, coolly; "and why do you not then?"
Craigengelt drew his cutlass an inch or two, and then returned it with
violence into the scabbard--"Because there is a deeper stake to be played for
than the lives of twenty harebrained gowks like you."
"You are right there," said his companion, "for it if were not that these
forfeitures, and that last fine that the old driveller Turntippet is gaping for,
and which, I dare say, is laid on by this time, have fairly driven me out of
house and home, I were a coxcomb and a cuckoo to boot to trust your fair
promises of getting me a commission in the Irish brigade. What have I to do with
the Irish brigade? I am a plain Scotchman, as my father was before me; and my
grand-aunt, Lady Girnington, cannot live for ever."
"Ay, Bucklaw," observed Craigengelt, "but she may live for many a long day;
and for your father, he had land and living, kept himself close from wadsetters
and money-lenders, paid each man his due, and lived on his own."
"And whose fault it it that I have not done so too?" said Bucklaw--"whose but
the devil's and yours, and such-like as you, that have led me to the far end of
a fair estate? And now I shall be obliged, I suppose, to shelter and shift about
like yourself: live one week upon a line of secret intelligence from Saint
Germains; another upon a report of a rising in the Highlands; get my breakfast
and morning draught of sack from old Jacobite ladies, and give them locks of my
old wig for the Chevalier's hair; second my friend in his quarrel till he comes
to the field, and then flinch from him lest so important a political agent
should perish from the way. All this I must do for bread, besides calling myself
a captain!"
"You think you are making a fine speech now," said Craigengelt, "and showing
much wit at my expense. Is starving or hanging better than the life I am obliged
to lead, because the present fortunes of the king cannot sufficiently support
his envoys?" "Starving is honester, Craigengelt, and hanging is like to be the
end on't. But what you mean to make of this poor fellow Ravenswood, I know not.
He has no money left, any more than I; his lands are all pawned and pledged, and
the interest eats up the rents, and is not satisfied, and what do you hope to
make by meddling in his affairs?"
"Content yourself, Bucklaw; I know my business," replied Craigengelt.
"Besides that his name, and his father's services in 1689, will make such an
acquisition sound well both at Versailles and Saint Germains, you will also
please be informed that the Master of Ravenswood is a very different kind of a
young fellow from you. He has parts and address, as well as courage and talents,
and will present himself abroad like a young man of head as well as heart, who
knows something more than the speed of a horse or the flight of a hawk. I have
lost credit of late, by bringing over no one that had sense to know more than
how to unharbour a stag, or take and reclaim an eyas. The Master has education,
sense, and penetration."
"And yet is not wise enough to escape the tricks of a kidnapper,
Craigengelt?" replied the younger man. "But don't be angry; you know you will
nto fight, and so it is as well to leave your hilt in peace andquiet, and tell
me in sober guise how you drew the Master into your confidence?"
"By flattering his love of vengeance, Bucklaw," answered Craigengelt. "He has
always distrusted me; but I watched my time, and struck while his temper was
red-hot with the sense of insult and of wrong. He goes now to expostulate, as he
says, and perhaps thinks, with Sir William Ashton. I say, that if they meet, and
the lawyer puts him to his defence, the Master will kill him; for he had that
sparkle in his eye which never deceives you when you would read a man's purpose.
At any rate, he will give him such a bullying as will be construed into an
assault on a privy councillor; so there will be a total breach betwixt him and
government. Scotland will be too hot for him; France will gain him; and we will
all set sail together in the French brig 'L'Espoir,' which is hovering for us
off Eyemouth."
"Content am I," said Bucklaw; "Scotland has little left that I care about;
and if carrying the Master with us will get us a better reception in France,
why, so be it, a God's name. I doubt our own merits will procure us slender
preferment; and I trust he will send a ball through the Keeper's head before he
joins us. One or two of these scoundrel statesmen should be shot once a year,
just to keep the others on their good behaviour."
"That is very true," replied Craigengelt; "and it reminds me that I must go
and see that our horses have been fed and are in readiness; for, should such
deed be done, it will be no time for grass to grow beneath their heels." He
proceeded as far as the door, then turned back with a look of earnestness, and
said to Bucklaw: "Whatever should come of this business, I am sure you will do
me the justice to remember that I said nothing to the Master which could imply
my accession to any act of violence which he may take it into his head to
commit."
"No, no, not a single word like accession," replied Bucklaw; "you know too
well the risk belonging to these two terrible words, 'art and part.'" Then, as
if to himself, he recited the following lines:
"The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs, And pointed full upon the
stroke of murder.
"What is that you are talking to yourself?" said Craigengelt, turning back
with some anxiety.
"Nothing, only two lines I have heard upon the stage," replied his companion.
"Bucklaw," said Craigengelt, "I sometimes think you should have been a
stage-player yourself; all is fancy and frolic with you."
"I have often thought so myself," said Bucklaw. "I believe it would be safer
than acting with you in the Fatal Conspiracy. But away, play your own part, and
look after the horses like a groom as you are. A play-actor--a stage-player!" he
repeated to himself; "that would have deserved a stab, but that Craigengelt's a
coward. And yet I should like the profession well enough. Stay, let me see; ay,
I would come out in Alexander:
Thus from the grave I rise to save my love, Draw all your swords, and quick
as lightning move. When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay: 'Tis love
commands, and glory leads the way."
As with a voice of thunder, and his hand upon his sword, Bucklaw repeated the
ranting couplets of poor Lee, Craigengelt re-entered with a face of alarm.
"We are undone, Bucklaw! The Master's led horse has cast himself over his
halter in the stable, and is dead lame. His hackney will be set up with the
day's work, and now he has no fresh horse; he will never get off."
"Egad, there will be no moving with the speed of lightning this bout," said
Bucklaw, drily. "But stay, you can give him yours."
"What! and be taken myself? I thank you for the proposal," said Craigengelt.
"Why," replied Bucklaw, "if the Lord Keeper should have met with a mischance,
which for my part I cannot suppose, for the Master is not the lad to shoot an
old and unarmed man--but IF there should have been a fray at the Castle, you are
neither art not part in it, you know, so have nothing to fear."
"True, true," answered the other, with embarrassment; "but consider my
commission from Saint Germains."
"Which many men think is a commission of your own making, noble Captain.
Well, if you will not give him your horse, why, d----n it, he must have mine."
"Yours?" said Craigengelt.
"Ay, mine," repeated Bucklaw; "it shall never be said that I agreed to back a
gentleman in a little affair of honour, and neither helped him on with it nor
off from it."
"You will give him your horse? and have you considered the loss?"
"Loss! why, Grey Gilbert cost me twenty Jacobuses, that's true; but then his
hackney is worth something, and his Black Moor is worth twice as much were he
sound, and I know how to handle him. Take a fat sucking mastiff whelp, flay and
bowel him, stuff the body full of black and grey snails, roast a reasonable
time, and baste with oil of spikenard, saffron, cinnamon, and honey, anoint with
the dripping, working it in----"
"Yes, Bucklaw; but in the mean while, before the sprain is cured, nay, before
the whelp is roasted, you will be caught and hung. Depend on it, the chase will
be hard after Ravenswood. I wish we had made our place of rendezvous nearer to
the coast."
"On my faith, then," said Bucklaw, "I had best go off just now, and leave my
horse for him. Stay--stay, he comes: I hear a horse's feet."
"Are you sure there is only one?" said Craigengelt. "I fear there is a chase;
I think I hear three or four galloping together. I am sure I hear more horses
than one."
"Pooh, pooh, it is the wench of the house clattering to the well in her
pattens. By my faith, Captain, you should give up both your captainship and your
secret service, for you are as easily scared as a wild goose. But here comes the
Master alone, and looking as gloomy as a night in November."
The Master of Ravenswood entered the room accordingly, his cloak muffled
around him, his arms folded, his looks stern, and at the same time dejected. He
flung his cloak from him as he entered, threw himself upon a chair, and appeared
sunk in a profound reverie.
"What has happened? What have you done?" was hastily demanded by Craigengelt
and Bucklaw in the same moment.
"Nothing!" was the short and sullen answer.
"Nothing! and left us, determined to call the old villain to account for all
the injuries that you, we, and the country have received at his hand? Have you
seen him?" "I have," replied the Master of Ravenswood.
"Seen him--and come away without settling scores which have been so long
due?" said Bucklaw; "I would not have expected that at the hand of the Master of
Ravenswood."
"No matter what you expected," replied Ravenswood; "it is not to you, sir,
that I shall be disposed to render any reason for my conduct."
"Patience, Bucklaw," said Craigengelt, interrupting his companion, who seemed
about to make an angry reply. "The Master has been interrupted in his purpose by
some accident; but he must excuse the anxious curiosity of friends who are
devoted to his cause like you and me."
"Friends, Captain Craigengelt!" retorted Ravenswood, haughtily; "I am
ignorant what familiarity passed betwixt us to entitle you to use that
expression. I think our friendship amounts to this, that we agreed to leave
Scotland together so soon as I should have visited the alienated mansion of my
fathers, and had an interview with its present possessor--I will not call him
proprietor."
"Very true, Master," answered Bucklaw; "and as we thought you had in mind to
do something to put your neck in jeopardy, Craigie and I very courteously agreed
to tarry for you, although ours might run some risk in consequence. As to
Craigie, indeed, it does not very much signify: he had gallows written on his
brow in the hour of his birth; but I should not like to discredit my parentage
by coming to such an end in another man's cause."
"Gentlemen," said the Master of Ravenswood, "I am sorry if I have occasioned
you any inconvenience, but I must claim the right of judging what is best for my
own affairs, without rendering explanations to any one. I have altered my mind,
and do not design to leave the country this season."
"Not to leave the country, Master!" exclaimed Craigengelt. "Not to go over,
after all the trouble and expense I have incurred--after all the risk of
discovery, and the expense of freight and demurrage!"
"Sir," replied the Master of Ravenswood, "when I designed to leave this
country in this haste, I made use of your obliging offer to procure me means of
conveyance; but I do not recollect that I pledged myself to go off, if I found
occasion to alter my mind. For your trouble on my account, I am sorry, and I
thank you; your expense," he added, putting his hand into his pocket, "admits a
more solid compensation: freight and demurrage are matters with which I am
unacquainted, Captain Craigengelt, but take my purse and pay yourself according
to your own conscience." And accordingly he tendered a purse with some gold in
it to the soi-disant captain.
But here Bucklaw interposed in his turn. "Your fingers, Craigie, seem to itch
for that same piece of green network," said he; "but I make my vow to God, that
if they offer to close upon it, I will chop them off with my whinger. Since the
Master has changed his mind, I suppose we need stay here no longer; but in the
first place I beg leave to tell him----"
"Tell him anything you will," said Craigengelt, "if you will first allow me
to state the inconveniences to which he will expose himself by quitting our
society, to remind him of the obstacles to his remaining here, and of the
difficulties attending his proper introduction at Versailles and Saint Germains
without the countenance of those who have established useful connexions."
"Besides forfeiting the friendship," said Bucklaw, "of at least one man of
spirit and honour."
"Gentlemen," said Ravenswood, "permit me once more to assure you that you
have been pleased to attach to our temporary connexion more importance than I
ever meant that it should have. When I repair to foreign courts, I shall not
need the introduction of an intriguing adventurer, nor is it necessary for me to
set value on the friendship of a hot-headed bully." With these words, and
without waiting for an answer, he left the apartment, remounted his horse, and
was heard to ride off.
"Mortbleu!" said Captain Craigengelt, "my recruit is lost!"
"Ay, Captain," said Bucklaw, "the salmon is off with hook and all. But I will
after him, for I have had more of his insolence than I can well digest."
Craigengelt offered to accompany him; but Bucklaw replied: "No, no, Captain,
keep you the check of the chimney-nook till I come
back; it's good sleeping in a haill skin.
Little kens the auld wife that sits by the fire, How cauld the wind blaws in
hurle-burle swire."
And singing as he went, he left the apartment.
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