CHAPTER XXIII.
Lo! where he lies embalmed in gore, His wound to Heaven cries: The floodgates of his blood implore For vengeance from the skies.
Uranus and Psyche.
The High Church of St. John in Perth, being that of the patron saintof the burgh, had been selected by the magistrates as that in whichthe community was likely to have most fair play for the display of theordeal. The churches and convents of the Dominicans, Carthusians, andothers of the regular clergy had been highly endowed by the King andnobles, and therefore it was the universal cry of the city councilthat "their ain good auld St. John," of whose good graces they thoughtthemselves sure, ought to be fully confided in, and preferred to the newpatrons, for whom the Dominicans, Carthusians, Carmelites, and othershad founded newer seats around the Fair City. The disputes between theregular and secular clergy added to the jealousy which dictated thischoice of the spot in which Heaven was to display a species of miracle,upon a direct appeal to the divine decision in a case of doubtful guilt;and the town clerk was as anxious that the church of St. John should bepreferred as if there had been a faction in the body of saints for andagainst the interests of the beautiful town of Perth.
Many, therefore, were the petty intrigues entered into and disconcertedfor the purpose of fixing on the church. But the magistrates,considering it as a matter touching in a close degree the honour ofthe city, determined, with judicious confidence in the justice andimpartiality of their patron, to confide the issue to the influence ofSt. John.
It was, therefore, after high mass had been performed with the greatestsolemnity of which circumstances rendered the ceremony capable, andafter the most repeated and fervent prayers had been offered to Heavenby the crowded assembly, that preparations were made for appealingto the direct judgment of Heaven on the mysterious murder of theunfortunate bonnet maker.
The scene presented that effect of imposing solemnity which the ritesof the Catholic Church are so well qualified to produce. The easternwindow, richly and variously painted, streamed down a torrent ofchequered light upon the high altar. On the bier placed before it werestretched the mortal remains of the murdered man, his arms folded on hisbreast, and his palms joined together, with the fingers pointed upwards,as if the senseless clay was itself appealing to Heaven for vengeanceagainst those who had violently divorced the immortal spirit from itsmangled tenement.
Close to the bier was placed the throne which supported Robert ofScotland and his brother Albany. The Prince sat upon a lower stool,beside his father--an arrangement which occasioned some observation, as,Albany's seat being little distinguished from that of the King, the heirapparent, though of full age, seemed to be degraded beneath his uncle inthe sight of the assembled people of Perth. The bier was so placed as toleave the view of the body it sustained open to the greater part of themultitude assembled in the church.
At the head of the bier stood the Knight of Kinfauns, the challenger,and at the foot the young Earl of Crawford, as representing thedefendant. The evidence of the Duke of Rothsay in expurgation, as itwas termed, of Sir John Ramorny, had exempted him from the necessity ofattendance as a party subjected to the ordeal; and his illness served asa reason for his remaining at home. His household, including those who,though immediately in waiting upon Sir John, were accounted the Prince'sdomestics, and had not yet received their dismissal, amounted to eightor ten persons, most of them esteemed men of profligate habits, and whomight therefore be deemed capable, in the riot of a festival evening,of committing the slaughter of the bonnet maker. They were drawn up in arow on the left side of the church, and wore a species of white cassock,resembling the dress of a penitentiary. All eyes being bent on them,several of this band seemed so much disconcerted as to excite among thespectators strong prepossessions of their guilt. The real murderer hada countenance incapable of betraying him--a sullen, dark look, whichneither the feast nor wine cup could enliven, and which the peril ofdiscovery and death could not render dejected.
We have already noticed the posture of the dead body. The face was bare,as were the breast and arms. The rest of the corpse was shrouded in awinding sheet of the finest linen, so that, if blood should flow fromany place which was covered, it could not fail to be instantly manifest.
High mass having been performed, followed by a solemn invocation to theDeity, that He would be pleased to protect the innocent, and make knownthe guilty, Eviot, Sir John Ramorny's page, was summoned to undergo theordeal. He advanced with an ill assured step. Perhaps he thought hisinternal consciousness that Bonthron must have been the assassin mightbe sufficient to implicate him in the murder, though he was not directlyaccessory to it. He paused before the bier; and his voice faltered,as he swore by all that was created in seven days and seven nights, byheaven, by hell, by his part of paradise, and by the God and authorof all, that he was free and sackless of the bloody deed done upon thecorpse before which he stood, and on whose breast he made the sign ofthe cross, in evidence of the appeal. No consequences ensued. The bodyremained stiff as before, the curdled wounds gave no sign of blood.
The citizens looked on each other with faces of blank disappointment.They had persuaded themselves of Eviot's guilt, and their suspicions hadbeen confirmed by his irresolute manner. Their surprise at his escapewas therefore extreme. The other followers of Ramorny took heart, andadvanced to take the oath with a boldness which increased as one byone they performed the ordeal, and were declared, by the voice ofthe judges, free and innocent of every suspicion attaching to them onaccount of the death of Oliver Proudfute.
But there was one individual who did not partake that increasingconfidence. The name of "Bonthron--Bonthron!" sounded three timesthrough the aisles of the church; but he who owned it acknowledged thecall no otherwise than by a sort of shuffling motion with his feet, asif he had been suddenly affected with a fit of the palsy.
"Speak, dog," whispered Eviot, "or prepare for a dog's death!"
But the murderer's brain was so much disturbed by the sight before him,that the judges, beholding his deportment, doubted whether to ordain himto be dragged before the bier or to pronounce judgment in default; andit was not until he was asked for the last time whether he would submitto the ordeal, that he answered, with his usual brevity:
"I will not; what do I know what juggling tricks may be practised totake a poor man's life? I offer the combat to any man who says I harmedthat dead body."
And, according to usual form, he threw his glove upon the floor of thechurch.
Henry Smith stepped forward, amidst the murmured applauses of his fellowcitizens, which even the august presence could not entirely suppress;and, lifting the ruffian's glove, which he placed in his bonnet, laiddown his own in the usual form, as a gage of battle. But Bonthron raisedit not.
"He is no match for me," growled the savage, "nor fit to lift my glove.I follow the Prince of Scotland, in attending on his master of horse.This fellow is a wretched mechanic."
Here the Prince interrupted him. "Thou follow me, caitiff! I dischargethee from my service on the spot. Take him in hand, Smith, and beathim as thou didst never thump anvil! The villain is both guilty andrecreant. It sickens me even to look at him; and if my royal father willbe ruled by me, he will give the parties two handsome Scottish axes, andwe will see which of them turns out the best fellow before the day ishalf an hour older."
This was readily assented to by the Earl of Crawford and Sir PatrickCharteris, the godfathers of the parties, who, as the combatants weremen of inferior rank, agreed that they should fight in steel caps, buffjackets, and with axes, and that as soon as they could be prepared forthe combat.
The lists were appointed in the Skinners' Yards--a neighbouring space ofground, occupied by the corporation from which it had the name, andwho quickly cleared a space of about thirty feet by twenty-five forthe combatants. Thither thronged the nobles, priests, and commons--allexcepting the old King, who, detesting such scenes of blood, retiredto his residence, and devolved the charge of the f
ield upon the Earlof Errol, Lord High Constable, to whose office it more particularlybelonged. The Duke of Albany watched the whole proceeding with a closeand wary eye. His nephew gave the scene the heedless degree of noticewhich corresponded with his character.
When the combatants appeared in the lists, nothing could be morestriking than the contrast betwixt the manly, cheerful countenance ofthe smith, whose sparkling bright eye seemed already beaming with thevictory he hoped for, and the sullen, downcast aspect of the brutalBonthron, who looked as if he were some obscene bird, driven intosunshine out of the shelter of its darksome haunts. They made oathseverally, each to the truth of his quarrel--a ceremony which HenryGow performed with serene and manly confidence, Bonthron with a doggedresolution, which induced the Duke of Rothsay to say to the HighConstable: "Didst thou ever, my dear Errol, behold such a mixture ofmalignity, cruelty, and I think fear, as in that fellow's countenance?"
"He is not comely," said the Earl, "but a powerful knave as I haveseen."
"I'll gage a hogshead of wine with you, my good lord, that he loses theday. Henry the armourer is as strong as he, and much more active; andthen look at his bold bearing! There is something in that other fellowthat is loathsome to look upon. Let them yoke presently, my dearConstable, for I am sick of beholding him."
The High Constable then addressed the widow, who, in her deep weeds, andhaving her children still beside her, occupied a chair within the lists:"Woman, do you willingly accept of this man, Henry the Smith, to dobattle as your champion in this cause?"
"I do--I do, most willingly," answered Magdalen Proudfute; "and may theblessing of God and St. John give him strength and fortune, since hestrikes for the orphan and fatherless!"
"Then I pronounce this a fenced field of battle," said the Constablealoud. "Let no one dare, upon peril of his life, to interrupt thiscombat by word, speech, or look. Sound trumpets, and fight, combatants!"
The trumpets flourished, and the combatants, advancing from the oppositeends of the lists, with a steady and even pace, looked at each otherattentively, well skilled in judging from the motion of the eye thedirection in which a blow was meditated. They halted opposite to, andwithin reach of, each other, and in turn made more than one feintto strike, in order to ascertain the activity and vigilance of theopponent. At length, whether weary of these manoeuvres, or fearing lestin a contest so conducted his unwieldy strength would be foiled by theactivity of the smith, Bonthron heaved up his axe for a downright blow,adding the whole strength of his sturdy arms to the weight of the weaponin its descent. The smith, however, avoided the stroke by steppingaside; for it was too forcible to be controlled by any guard which hecould have interposed. Ere Bonthron recovered guard, Henry struck hima sidelong blow on the steel headpiece, which prostrated him on theground.
"Confess, or die," said the victor, placing his foot on the body ofthe vanquished, and holding to his throat the point of the axe, whichterminated in a spike or poniard.
"I will confess," said the villain, glaring wildly upwards on the sky."Let me rise."
"Not till you have yielded," said Harry Smith.
"I do yield," again murmured Bonthron, and Henry proclaimed aloud thathis antagonist was defeated.
The Dukes of Rothsay and Albany, the High Constable, and the Dominicanprior now entered the lists, and, addressing Bonthron, demanded if heacknowledged himself vanquished.
"I do," answered the miscreant.
"And guilty of the murder of Oliver Proudfute?"
"I am; but I mistook him for another."
"And whom didst thou intend to slay?" said the prior. "Confess, my son,and merit thy pardon in another world for with this thou hast littlemore to do."
"I took the slain man," answered the discomfited combatant, "for himwhose hand has struck me down, whose foot now presses me."
"Blessed be the saints!" said the prior; "now all those who doubt thevirtue of the holy ordeal may have their eyes opened to their error. Lo,he is trapped in the snare which he laid for the guiltless."
"I scarce ever saw the man," said the smith. "I never did wrong to himor his. Ask him, an it please your reverence, why he should have thoughtof slaying me treacherously."
"It is a fitting question," answered the prior. "Give glory where it isdue, my son, even though it is manifested by thy shame. For what reasonwouldst thou have waylaid this armourer, who says he never wrongedthee?"
"He had wronged him whom I served," answered Bonthron, "and I meditatedthe deed by his command."
"By whose command?" asked the prior.
Bonthron was silent for an instant, then growled out: "He is too mightyfor me to name."
"Hearken, my son," said the churchman; "tarry but a brief hour, and themighty and the mean of this earth shall to thee alike be empty sounds.The sledge is even now preparing to drag thee to the place of execution.Therefore, son, once more I charge thee to consult thy soul's weal byglorifying Heaven, and speaking the truth. Was it thy master, Sir JohnRamorny, that stirred thee to so foul a deed?"
"No," answered the prostrate villain, "it was a greater than he." And atthe same time he pointed with his finger to the Prince.
"Wretch!" said the astonished Duke of Rothsay; "do you dare to hint thatI was your instigator?"
"You yourself, my lord," answered the unblushing ruffian.
"Die in thy falsehood, accursed slave!" said the Prince; and, drawinghis sword, he would have pierced his calumniator, had not the Lord HighConstable interposed with word and action.
"Your Grace must forgive my discharging mine office: this caitiff mustbe delivered into the hands of the executioner. He is unfit to be dealtwith by any other, much less by your Highness."
"What! noble earl," said Albany aloud, and with much real or affectedemotion, "would you let the dog pass alive from hence, to poison thepeople's ears with false accusations against the Prince of Scotland? Isay, cut him to mammocks upon the spot!"
"Your Highness will pardon me," said the Earl of Errol; "I must protecthim till his doom is executed."
"Then let him be gagged instantly," said Albany. "And you, my royalnephew, why stand you there fixed in astonishment? Call your resolutionup--speak to the prisoner--swear--protest by all that is sacred that youknew not of this felon deed. See how the people look on each other andwhisper apart! My life on't that this lie spreads faster than any Gospeltruth. Speak to them, royal kinsman, no matter what you say, so you beconstant in denial."
"What, sir," said Rothsay, starting from his pause of surprise andmortification, and turning haughtily towards his uncle; "would you haveme gage my royal word against that of an abject recreant? Let those whocan believe the son of their sovereign, the descendant of Bruce, capableof laying ambush for the life of a poor mechanic, enjoy the pleasure ofthinking the villain's tale true."
"That will not I for one," said the smith, bluntly. "I never did aughtbut what was in honour towards his royal Grace the Duke of Rothsay, andnever received unkindness from him in word, look, or deed; and I cannotthink he would have given aim to such base practice."
"Was it in honour that you threw his Highness from the ladder in CurfewStreet upon Fastern's [St. Valentine's] Even?" said Bonthron; "or thinkyou the favour was received kindly or unkindly?"
This was so boldly said, and seemed so plausible, that it shook thesmith's opinion of the Prince's innocence.
"Alas, my lord," said he, looking sorrowfully towards Rothsay, "couldyour Highness seek an innocent fellow's life for doing his duty by ahelpless maiden? I would rather have died in these lists than live tohear it said of the Bruce's heir!"
"Thou art a good fellow, Smith," said the Prince; "but I cannot expectthee to judge more wisely than others. Away with that convict to thegallows, and gibbet him alive an you will, that he may speak falsehoodand spread scandal on us to the last prolonged moment of his existence!"
So saying, the Prince turned away from the lists, disdaining to noticethe gloomy looks cast towards him, as the crowd made slow and reluctantway for him
to pass, and expressing neither surprise nor displeasure ata deep, hollow murmur, or groan, which accompanied his retreat. Only afew of his own immediate followers attended him from the field, thoughvarious persons of distinction had come there in his train. Even thelower class of citizens ceased to follow the unhappy Prince, whoseformer indifferent reputation had exposed him to so many charges ofimpropriety and levity, and around whom there seemed now darkeningsuspicions of the most atrocious nature.
He took his slow and thoughtful way to the church of the Dominicans; butthe ill news, which flies proverbially fast, had reached his father'splace of retirement before he himself appeared. On entering the palaceand inquiring for the King, the Duke of Rothsay was surprised to beinformed that he was in deep consultation with the Duke of Albany, who,mounting on horseback as the Prince left the lists, had reached theconvent before him. He was about to use the privilege of his rank andbirth to enter the royal apartment, when MacLouis, the commander ofthe guard of Brandanes, gave him to understand, in the most respectfulterms, that he had special instructions which forbade his admittance.
"Go at least, MacLouis, and let them know that I wait their pleasure,"said the Prince. "If my uncle desires to have the credit of shutting thefather's apartment against the son, it will gratify him to know that Iam attending in the outer hall like a lackey."
"May it please you," said MacLouis, with hesitation, "if your Highnesswould consent to retire just now, and to wait awhile in patience, I willsend to acquaint you when the Duke of Albany goes; and I doubt not thathis Majesty will then admit your Grace to his presence. At present, yourHighness must forgive me, it is impossible you can have access."
"I understand you, MacLouis; but go, nevertheless, and obey mycommands."
The officer went accordingly, and returned with a message that the Kingwas indisposed, and on the point of retiring to his private chamber;but that the Duke of Albany would presently wait upon the Prince ofScotland.
It was, however, a full half hour ere the Duke of Albany appeared--aperiod of time which Rothsay spent partly in moody silence, andpartly in idle talk with MacLouis and the Brandanes, as the levity orirritability of his temper obtained the ascendant.
At length the Duke came, and with him the lord High Constable, whosecountenance expressed much sorrow and embarrassment.
"Fair kinsman," said the Duke of Albany, "I grieve to say that it ismy royal brother's opinion that it will be best, for the honour of theroyal family, that your Royal Highness do restrict yourself for a timeto the seclusion of the High Constable's lodgings, and accept of thenoble Earl here present for your principal, if not sole, companion untilthe scandals which have been this day spread abroad shall be refuted orforgotten."
"How is this, my lord of Errol?" said the Prince in astonishment. "Isyour house to be my jail, and is your lordship to be my jailer?"
"The saints forbid, my lord," said the Earl of Errol "but it is myunhappy duty to obey the commands of your father, by considering yourRoyal Highness for some time as being under my ward."
"The Prince--the heir of Scotland, under the ward of the High Constable!What reason can be given for this? is the blighting speech ofa convicted recreant of strength sufficient to tarnish my royalescutcheon?"
"While such accusations are not refuted and denied, my kinsman," saidthe Duke of Albany, "they will contaminate that of a monarch."
"Denied, my lord!" exclaimed the Prince; "by whom are they asserted,save by a wretch too infamous, even by his own confession, to becredited for a moment, though a beggar's character, not a prince's, wereimpeached? Fetch him hither, let the rack be shown to him; you will soonhear him retract the calumny which he dared to assert!"
"The gibbet has done its work too surely to leave Bonthron sensibleto the rack," said the Duke of Albany. "He has been executed an hoursince."
"And why such haste, my lord?" said the Prince; "know you it looks as ifthere were practice in it to bring a stain on my name?"
"The custom is universal, the defeated combatant in the ordeal of battleis instantly transferred from the lists to the gallows. And yet, fairkinsman," continued the Duke of Albany, "if you had boldly and stronglydenied the imputation, I would have judged right to keep the wretchalive for further investigation; but as your Highness was silent, Ideemed it best to stifle the scandal in the breath of him that utteredit."
"St. Mary, my lord, but this is too insulting! Do you, my uncle andkinsman, suppose me guilty of prompting such an useless and unworthyaction as that which the slave confessed?"
"It is not for me to bandy question with your Highness, otherwise Iwould ask whether you also mean to deny the scarce less unworthy, thoughless bloody, attack upon the house in Couvrefew Street? Be not angrywith me, kinsman; but, indeed, your sequestering yourself for some briefspace from the court, were it only during the King's residence in thiscity, where so much offence has been given, is imperiously demanded."
Rothsay paused when he heard this exhortation, and, looking at the Dukein a very marked manner, replied:
"Uncle, you are a good huntsman. You have pitched your toils with muchskill, but you would have been foiled, not withstanding, had not thestag rushed among the nets of free will. God speed you, and may you havethe profit by this matter which your measures deserve. Say to my father,I obey his arrest. My Lord High Constable, I wait only your pleasure toattend you to your lodgings. Since I am to lie in ward, I could not havedesired a kinder or more courteous warden."
The interview between the uncle and nephew being thus concluded, thePrince retired with the Earl of Errol to his apartments; the citizenswhom they met in the streets passing to the further side when theyobserved the Duke of Rothsay, to escape the necessity of salutingone whom they had been taught to consider as a ferocious as well asunprincipled libertine. The Constable's lodgings received the owner andhis princely guest, both glad to leave the streets, yet neither feelingeasy in the situation which they occupied with regard to each otherwithin doors.
We must return to the lists after the combat had ceased, and when thenobles had withdrawn. The crowds were now separated into two distinctbodies. That which made the smallest in number was at the same time themost distinguished for respectability, consisting of the better classof inhabitants of Perth, who were congratulating the successful championand each other upon the triumphant conclusion to which they had broughttheir feud with the courtiers. The magistrates were so much elated onthe occasion, that they entreated Sir Patrick Charteris's acceptance ofa collation in the town hall. To this Henry, the hero of the day, was ofcourse invited, or he was rather commanded to attend. He listened tothe summons with great embarrassment, for it may be readily believedhis heart was with Catharine Glover. But the advice of his father Simondecided him. That veteran citizen had a natural and becoming deferencefor the magistracy of the Fair City; he entertained a high estimationof all honours which flowed from such a source, and thought that hisintended son in law would do wrong not to receive them with gratitude.
"Thou must not think to absent thyself from such a solemn occasion, sonHenry," was his advice. "Sir Patrick Charteris is to be there himself,and I think it will be a rare occasion for thee to gain his goodwill. Itis like he may order of thee a new suit of harness; and I myself heardworthy Bailie Craigdallie say there was a talk of furbishing up thecity's armoury. Thou must not neglect the good trade, now that thoutakest on thee an expensive family."
"Tush, father Glover," answered the embarrassed victor, "I lack nocustom; and thou knowest there is Catharine, who may wonder at myabsence, and have her ear abused once more by tales of glee maidens andI wot not what."
"Fear not for that," said the glover, "but go, like an obedient burgess,where thy betters desire to have thee. I do not deny that it will costthee some trouble to make thy peace with Catharine about this duel; forshe thinks herself wiser in such matters than king and council, kirkand canons, provost and bailies. But I will take up the quarrel withher myself, and will so work for thee, that, though she may receivet
hee tomorrow with somewhat of a chiding, it shall melt into tears andsmiles, like an April morning, that begins with a mild shower. Away withthee, then, my son, and be constant to the time, tomorrow morning aftermass."
The smith, though reluctantly, was obliged to defer to the reasoning ofhis proposed father in law, and, once determined to accept the honourdestined for him by the fathers of the city, he extricated himself fromthe crowd, and hastened home to put on his best apparel; in which hepresently afterwards repaired to the council house, where the ponderousoak table seemed to bend under the massy dishes of choice Tay salmonand delicious sea fish from Dundee, being the dainties which the fastingseason permitted, whilst neither wine, ale, nor metheglin were wantingto wash them down. The waits, or minstrels of the burgh, played duringthe repast, and in the intervals of the music one of them recited Withgreat emphasis a long poetical account of the battle of Blackearnside,fought by Sir William Wallace and his redoubted captain and friend,Thomas of Longueville, against the English general Seward--a themeperfectly familiar to all the guests, who, nevertheless, more tolerantthan their descendants, listened as if it had all the zest of novelty.It was complimentary to the ancestor of the Knight of Kinfauns,doubtless, and to other Perthshire families, in passages which theaudience applauded vociferously, whilst they pledged each other inmighty draughts to the memory of the heroes who had fought by the sideof the Champion of Scotland. The health of Henry Wynd was quaffedwith repeated shouts, and the provost announced publicly, that themagistrates were consulting how they might best invest him with somedistinguished privilege or honorary reward, to show how highly hisfellow citizens valued his courageous exertions.
"Nay, take it not thus, an it like your worships," said the smith, withhis usual blunt manner, "lest men say that valour must be rare in Perthwhen they reward a man for fighting for the right of a forlorn widow.I am sure there are many scores of stout burghers in the town who wouldhave done this day's dargue as well or better than I. For, in goodsooth, I ought to have cracked yonder fellow's head piece like anearthen pipkin--ay, and would have done it, too, if it had not beenone which I myself tempered for Sir John Ramorny. But, an the FairCity think my service of any worth, I will conceive it far more thanacquitted by any aid which you may afford from the common good to thesupport of the widow Magdalen and her poor orphans."
"That may well be done," said Sir Patrick Charteris, "and yet leave theFair City rich enough to pay her debts to Henry Wynd, of which every manof us is a better judge than him self, who is blinded with an unavailingnicety, which men call modesty. And if the burgh be too poor for this,the provost will bear his share. The Rover's golden angels have not alltaken flight yet."
The beakers were now circulated, under the name of a cup of comfort tothe widow, and anon flowed around once more to the happy memory of themurdered Oliver, now so bravely avenged. In short, it was a feast sojovial that all agreed nothing was wanting to render it perfect but thepresence of the bonnet maker himself, whose calamity had occasioned themeeting, and who had usually furnished the standing jest at such festiveassemblies. Had his attendance been possible, it was drily observed byBailie Craigdallie, he would certainly have claimed the success of theday, and vouched himself the avenger of his own murder.
At the sound of the vesper bell the company broke up, some of the graversort going to evening prayers, where, with half shut eyes and shiningcountenances, they made a most orthodox and edifying portion of a Lentencongregation; others to their own homes, to tell over the occurrences ofthe fight and feast, for the information of the family circle; and some,doubtless, to the licensed freedoms of some tavern, the door of whichLent did not keep so close shut as the forms of the church required.Henry returned to the wynd, warm with the good wine and the applause ofhis fellow citizens, and fell asleep to dream of perfect happiness andCatharine Glover.
We have said that, when the combat was decided, the spectators weredivided into two bodies. Of these, when the more respectable portionattended the victor in joyous procession, much the greater number, orwhat might be termed the rabble, waited upon the subdued and sentencedBonthron, who was travelling in a different direction, and for a veryopposite purpose. Whatever may be thought of the comparative attractionsof the house of mourning and of feasting under other circumstances,there can be little doubt which will draw most visitors, when thequestion is, whether we would witness miseries which we are not toshare, or festivities of which we are not to partake. Accordingly, thetumbril in which the criminal was conveyed to execution was attended byfar the greater proportion of the inhabitants of Perth.
A friar was seated in the same car with the murderer, to whom he didnot hesitate to repeat, under the seal of confession, the same falseasseveration which he had made upon the place of combat, which chargedthe Duke of Rothsay with being director of the ambuscade by whichthe unfortunate bonnet maker had suffered. The same falsehood hedisseminated among the crowd, averring, with unblushing effrontery, tothose who were nighest to the car, that he owed his death to his havingbeen willing to execute the Duke of Rothsay's pleasure. For a timehe repeated these words, sullenly and doggedly, in the manner of onereciting a task, or a liar who endeavours by reiteration to obtaina credit for his words which he is internally sensible they do notdeserve. But when he lifted up his eyes, and beheld in the distance theblack outline of a gallows, at least forty feet high, with its ladderand its fatal cord, rising against the horizon, he became suddenlysilent, and the friar could observe that he trembled very much.
"Be comforted, my son," said the good priest, "you have confessedthe truth, and received absolution. Your penitence will be acceptedaccording to your sincerity; and though you have been a man of bloodyhands and cruel heart, yet, by the church's prayers, you shall be in duetime assoilzied from the penal fires of purgatory."
These assurances were calculated rather to augment than to diminishthe terrors of the culprit, who was agitated by doubts whether themode suggested for his preservation from death would to a certainty beeffectual, and some suspicion whether there was really any purpose ofemploying them in his favour, for he knew his master well enough to beaware of the indifference with which he would sacrifice one who might onsome future occasion be a dangerous evidence against him.
His doom, however, was sealed, and there was no escaping from it. Theyslowly approached the fatal tree, which was erected on a bank by theriver's side, about half a mile from the walls of the city--a sitechosen that the body of the wretch, which was to remain food for thecarrion crows, might be seen from a distance in every direction.Here the priest delivered Bonthron to the executioner, by whom he wasassisted up the ladder, and to all appearance despatched according tothe usual forms of the law. He seemed to struggle for life for aminute, but soon after hung still and inanimate. The executioner, afterremaining upon duty for more than half an hour, as if to permit thelast spark of life to be extinguished, announced to the admirers of suchspectacles that the irons for the permanent suspension of the carcassnot having been got ready, the concluding ceremony of disembowelling thedead body and attaching it finally to the gibbet would be deferred tillthe next morning at sunrise.
Notwithstanding the early hour which he had named, Master Smotherwellhad a reasonable attendance of rabble at the place of execution, tosee the final proceedings of justice with its victim. But great was theastonishment and resentment of these amateurs to find that the dead bodyhad been removed from the gibbet. They were not, however, long at a lossto guess the cause of its disappearance. Bonthron had been the followerof a baron whose estates lay in Fife, and was himself a native of thatprovince. What was more natural than that some of the Fife men, whoseboats were frequently plying on the river, should have clandestinelyremoved the body of their countryman from the place of public shame? Thecrowd vented their rage against Smotherwell for not completing hisjob on the preceding evening; and had not he and his assistant betakenthemselves to a boat, and escaped across the Tay, they would have runsome risk of being pelted to death. The event, however
, was too much inthe spirit of the times to be much wondered at. Its real cause we shallexplain in the following chapter.