The Men of the Moss-Hags

  CHAPTER LVI.

  THE MAID ON THE WHITE HORSE.

  Then slowly a rim about my neck grew icy cold till it ached with thepain--as when, on a hot day, one holds one's wrists over-long in arunning stream. Nevertheless, my southland pride and the grace of Godkept me from vulgarly showing my fear.

  Yet even the Earl, who came of a family that ought by this time to havegrown accustomed to losing their heads, was shaken somewhat by the sightof the Maiden. And, indeed, such present and visible death will dauntonthe most resolute courage. Therefore he caused bind the napkin upon hisface, ere he approached nearer, and so was led upon the scaffold first.I went next, schooling myself to go firmly and saying only, "It willsoon be over! It will soon be over!" Then I would fall to mytwenty-third Psalm again, and specially to the verse about "death's darkvale," which did indeed strengthen me so that I feared none ill, or atleast not so very much. But at such times one goes on, winning throughunshamed, more by the mechanical action of one's body and the instinctof silence, than by the actual thing which men call courage.

  But when at last we stood upon the scaffold, and looked about us at thegreat concourse of people, all silent and all waiting to see us die,more than everything else I wished that they had thought to put a railabout the edge. For the platform being so high, and the time so early inmorning, I walked a little as though my legs had been the legs ofanother and not mine own. But in time this also passed off.

  Then they read Cantyre's warrant, and asked him if he had aught to say.He had a long paper prepared, which, standing between his two friends,who held him by either arm, he gave to the Dean. And very courteously hebade us who were to die with him farewell, and also those that were withhim. He was a most gallant gentleman, though a Highlandman. They made usstand with our backs to the Maiden, and rolled the drums, while they sethim in his place. But for all that I heard louder than thunder thehorrible crunch as of one that shaws frosty cabbages with a blunt knife.Methought I had fainted away, when I heard the answering splash, and theloud universal "Ah!" which swept across the multitudes of people.

  Yet as they turned me about, because my time had come, I saw quiteclearly beneath me the populace fighting fiercely one with anotherbeneath the scaffold, for the blood that drippled through the boards,dipping their kerchiefs and other linen fabrics in it for keepsakes.Also I perceived the collapsed body, most like a sack that fallssideways; and the tall masked headsman holding up the poor drippinghead. For the napkin had fallen away from the staring eyne, and Ishuddered at the rasping echo of his words.

  "This is the head of a traitor!" he cried, as the custom is.

  Again the people cried, "Ah!"--They cried it through their clenchedteeth. But it was more like a wild beast's growl than a human cry.

  Then I was bidden speak if I had aught to say before I died.

  So I took off my hat, and though for a moment I stood without strength,suddenly my voice was given back to me, and that with such surprisingpower that I never knew that I had so great an utterance.

  "I die (so they recorded my words) in the faith my father taught me, andfor which my father died; neither for King nor bishop will I change it.Neither for love nor lands will I recreant or swear falsely. I am aGordon of Earlstoun. I die for the freedom of this land. God do so to meand more also, if ever I gave my back to a foe, or my shoulder to afriend all the days of my life! That is all my testimony. God have mercyon my sinful soul, for Christ's sake. Amen!"

  "Lord, that is no Whig word!" cried one from the crowd--a soldier, as Ithink.

  "Tis a pity he is a rebel," said another. I heard them as though theyhad spoken of another, and not of myself. And all the time I had beenspeaking, I was watching the headsman wiping his broad sliding bladewith a fragment of fine old linen, daintily as one may caress asweetheart or other beloved possession.

  Then the Dean began the praying, for because I had played with him uponthe Links of Leith at our diversion, I could not reject hisministrations. And also, as I said, he was a pleasant, well-spoken man.But he had hardly said many words, or indeed gotten fairly into thematter of his prayer--which being an Episcopalian, it took him a longtime to do--when his voice seemed to be drowned in the surging murmurwhich rose from the people far down the spaces of the Grassmarket. Thesound we heard was as that of a mighty multitude crying aloud; butwhether for joy or hate, I could not tell. The Dean went on praying withhis book open. But none, I think, minded him, or indeed could have heardhim if they had. For every eye in all that mighty throng was turned tothe distance, whence came the cheering of the myriad throats.

  The soldiers looked one to the other, and the officers drew together andconferred. They thought, doubtless, that it was the messenger of deathwith the other warrant of execution, that for Anton Lennox. Yet theymarvelled why in that case the people shouted.

  The commander bade the drums beat, for the voices of those about thescaffold-foot began to take up the shouting, and he feared a tumult. Sothe kettle drums brayed out their angry waspish whirr, and the greatbasses boomed dull and hollow over all.

  But in spite of all, the crying of the whole people waxed louder andlouder, and the rejoicing came nearer and nearer, so that they could inno wise drown it with all their instruments of music.

  Then, in the narrow Gut of the West Port I saw a white horse and a riderupon it, driving fiercely through the black press of the throng. Andever the people tossed their bonnets in the air, flecking the redsunrise with them. And the crowd fell back before the rider as the foamsurges from the prow of a swift boat on Solway tide.

  And lo! among the shouting throng I looked and saw, and knew. It was myown lass that rode and came to save me, even while the headsman waswiping the crimson from the bloody shearing knife to make it ready forme. In either hand she waved a parchment of pardon, and the peopleshouted: "A pardon! a pardon! God save the King!"

  Without rein she rode, and the people opened a lane for her weary horse.Very pale was her face, the sweetest that ever the sun shone on. Veryweary were the lids of her eyes, that were the truest and the bravestwhich ever God gave to woman. But when they were lifted up to look at meon the scaffold of death, I saw that through the anxiety, which drewdark rings about them, they were joyful with a great joy!

  And this is what my Maisie Lennox did for me.