CHAPTER V
THE WITCH WOMAN
One of these was Malise the Smith, towering like a giant. His handsrested on the hilt of a mighty sword, whose blade sparkled in thelamplight as if the master armourer had drawn it that moment from themidst of his charcoal fire.
A little in front of Malise there stood another figure, less imposingin physical proportions, but infinitely more striking in dignity andapparel. This second was a man of tall and spare frame, of acountenance grave and severe, yet with a certain kindly power latentin him also. He was dressed in the white robe of a Cistercian, withthe black scapulary of the order. On his head was the mitre, and inhis hand the staff of the abbot of a great establishment which hewears when he goes visiting his subsidiary houses. More remarkablethan all was the monk's likeness to the young man who now stood beforehim with an expression of indignant surprise on his face, which slowlymerged into anger as he understood why these two men were there.
He recognised his uncle the Abbot William Douglas, the head of thegreat Abbey of Dulce Cor upon Solway side.
This was he who, being the son and heir of the brother of the firstDuke of Touraine, had in the flower of his age suddenly renounced hisdomains of Nithsdale that he might take holy orders, and who had eversince been renowned throughout all Scotland for high sanctity and amultitude of good works.
The pair stood looking towards the lady and William Douglas withoutspeech, a kind of grim patience upon their faces.
It was the Earl who was the first to speak.
"What seek you here so late, my lord Abbot?" he said, with all thehaughtiness of the unquestioned head of his mighty house.
"Nay, what seeks the Earl William here alone so late?" answered theAbbot, with equal directness.
The two men stood fronting each other. Malise leaned upon histwo-handed sword and gazed upon the ground.
"I have come," the Abbot went on, after vainly waiting for the youngEarl to offer an explanation, "as your kinsman, tutor, and councillor,to warn you against this foreign witch woman. What seeks she here inthis land of Galloway but to do you hurt? Have we not heard her withour own ears persuade you to accompany her to Edinburgh, which is acity filled with the power and deadly intent of your enemies?"
Earl William bowed ironically to his uncle, and his eye glittered asit fell upon Malise MacKim.
"I thank you, Uncle," he said. "I am deeply indebted for your so greatinterest in me. I thank you too, Malise, for bringing about thistimely interference. I will pay my debts one day. In the meantime yourduty is done. Depart, both of you, I command you!"
Outside the thunder began to growl in the distance. An extraordinaryfeeling of oppression had slowly filled the air. The lamps, swingingon the pavilion roof tree, flickered and flared, alternately risingand sinking like the life in the eyes of a dying man.
All the while the lady sat still on the couch, with an expression ofamused contempt on her face. But now she rose to her feet.
"And I also ask, in the name of the King of France, by what right doyou intrude within the precincts of a lady's bower. I bid you to leaveme!"
She pointed imperiously with her white finger to the black, oblongdoorway, from which Malise's rude hand had dragged the covering flapto the ground.
But the churchman and his guide stood their ground.
Suddenly the Abbot reached a hand and took the sword on which themaster armourer leaned. With its point he drew a wide circle upon therich carpets which formed the floor of the pavilion.
"William Douglas," he said, "I command you to come within this circle,whilst in the right of my holy office I exorcise that demon there whohath so nearly beguiled you to your ruin."
The lady laughed a rich ringing laugh.
"These are indeed high heroics for so plain and poor an occasion. Ineed not to utter a word of explanation. I am a lady travellingpeaceably under escort of an ambassador of France, through a Christiancountry. By chance, I met the Earl Douglas, and invited him to supwith me. What concern, spiritual or temporal, may that be of yours,most reverend Abbot? Who made you my lord Earl's keeper?"
"Woman or demon from the pit!" said the Abbot, sternly, "think not todeceive William Douglas, the aged, as you have cast the glamour overWilliam Douglas, the boy. The lust of the flesh abideth no more forever in this frail tabernacle. I bid thee, let the lad go, for he isdear to me as mine own soul. Let him go, I say, ere I curse thee withthe curse of God the Almighty!"
The lady continued to smile, standing meantime slender and fair beforethem, her bosom heaving a little with emotion, and her hair ripplingin red gold confusion down her back.
"Certainly, my lord Earl came not upon compulsion. He is free toreturn with you, if he yet be under tutors and governors, or afraid ofthe master's stripes. Go, Earl William, I made a mistake; I thoughtyou had been a man. But since I was wrong I bid you get back to themonk's chapter house, to clerkly copies and childish toys."
Then black and sullen anger glared from the eyes of the Douglas.
"Get hence," he cried. "Hence, both of you--you, Uncle William, ere Iforget your holy office and your kinsmanship; you, Malise, that I maysettle with to-morrow ere the sun sets. I swear it by my word as aDouglas. I will never forgive either of you for this night's work!"
The fair white hand was laid upon his wrist.
"Nay," said the lady, "do not quarrel with those you love for my poorsake. I am indeed little worth the trouble. Go back with them inpeace, and forget her who but sat by your side an hour neither doingyou harm nor thinking it."
"Nay," he cried, "that will I not. I will show them that I am oldenough to choose my company for myself. Who is my uncle that heshould dictate to me that am an earl of Douglas and a peer of France,or my servant that he should come forth to spy upon his master?"
"Then," she whispered, smiling, "you will indeed abide with me?"
He gave her his hand.
"I will abide with you till death! Body and soul, I am yours alone!"
"By the holy cross of our Lord, that shall you not!" cried Malise;"not though you hang me high as Haman for this ere the morrow's morn!"
And with these words he sprang forward and caught his master by thewrist. With one strong pull of his mighty arm he dragged him withinthe circle which the Abbot had marked out with the sword's point.
The lady seemed to change colour. For at that moment a gust of windcaused the lamps to flicker, and the outlines of her white-robedfigure appeared to waver like an image cast in water.
"I adjure and command you, in the name of God the One and Omnipotent,to depart to your own place, spirit or devil or whatever you may be!"
The voice of the Abbot rose high above the roaring of the burstingstorm without. The lady seemed to reach an arm across the circle as ifeven yet to take hold of the young man. The Abbot thrust forward hiscrucifix.
And then the bolt of God fell. The whole pavilion was illuminated witha flash of light so intense and white that it appeared to blind andburn up all about. The lady was seen no more. The silken coveringblazed up. Malise plunged outward into the darkness of the storm,carrying his young master lightly as a child in his arms, while theAbbot kept his feet behind him like a boat in a ship's wake. Thethunder roared overhead like the sea bellowing in a cave's mouth, andthe great pines bent their heads away from the mighty wind, strainingand creaking and lashing each other in their blind fury.
Malise and the Abbot seemed to hear about them the plunging ofriderless horses as they stumbled downwards through the night, theirpath lit by lightning flashes, green and lilac and keenest blue, andbearing between them the senseless form of William Earl of Douglas.