Chapter the Ninth.
For since they rode among our doors With splent on spauld and rusty spurs, There grows no fruit into our furs; Thus said John Up-on-land. DANNATYNE MS.
The Scottish laws, which were as wisely and judiciously made as theywere carelessly and ineffectually executed, had in vain endeavouredto restrain the damage done to agriculture, by the chiefs and landedproprietors retaining in their service what were called jack-men, fromthe _jack_, or doublet, quilted with iron which they wore as defensivearmour. These military retainers conducted themselves with greatinsolence towards the industrious part of the community--lived in agreat measure by plunder, and were ready to execute any commands oftheir master, however unlawful. In adopting this mode of life, menresigned the quiet hopes and regular labours of industry, for anunsettled, precarious, and dangerous trade, which yet had such charmsfor those once accustomed to it, that they became incapable of followingany other. Hence the complaint of John Upland, a fictitious character,representing a countryman, into whose mouth the poets of the day puttheir general satires upon men and manners.
They ride about in such a rage, By forest, frith, and field, With buckler, bow, and brand. Lo! where they ride out through the rye! The Devil mot save the company, Quoth John Up-on-land.
Christie of the Clinthill, the horseman who now arrived at the littleTower of Glendearg, was one of the hopeful company of whom the poetcomplains, as was indicated by his "splent on spauld," (iron-plates onhis shoulder,) his rusted spurs, and his long lance. An iron skull-cap,none of the brightest, bore for distinction a sprig of the holly, whichwas Avenel's badge. A long two-edged straight sword, having a handlemade of polished oak, hung down by his side. The meagre condition ofhis horse, and the wild and emaciated look of the rider, showed theiroccupation could not be accounted an easy or a thriving one. He salutedDame Glendinning with little courtesy, and the monk with less; for thegrowing, disrespect to the religious orders had not failed to extenditself among a class of men of such disorderly habits, although it maybe supposed they were tolerably indifferent alike to the new or theancient doctrines.
"So, our lady is dead, Dame Glendinning?" said the jack-man; "my masterhas sent you even now a fat bullock for her mart--it may serve forher funeral. I have left him in the upper cleugh, as he is somewhatkenspeckle, [Footnote: _Kenspeckle_--that which is easily recognizedby the eye.] and is marked both with cut and birn--the sooner theskin is off, and he is in saultfat, the less like you are to havetrouble--you understand me? Let me have a peck of corn for my horse, andbeef and beer for myself, for I must go on to the Monastery--though Ithink this monk hero might do mine errand."
"Thine errand, rude man!" said the Sub-Prior, knitting his brows--
"For God's sake" cried poor Dame Glendinning, terrified at the idea ofa quarrel between them,--"O Christie!---it is the Sub-Prior--O reverendsir, it is Christie of the Clinthill, the laird's chief jack-man; yeknow that little havings can be expected from the like o' them."
"Are you a retainer of the Laird of Avenel?" said the monk, addressinghimself to the horseman, "and do you speak thus rudely to a Brother ofSaint Mary's, to whom thy master is so much beholden?"
"He means to be yet more beholden to your house, Sir Monk," answered thefellow; "for hearing his sister-in-law, the widow of Walter of Avenel,was on her death-bed, he sent me to say to the Father Abbot and thebrethren, that he will hold the funeral-feast at their convent, andinvites himself thereto, with a score of horse and some friends, andto abide there for three days and three nights,--having horse-meat andmen's-meat at the charge of the community; of which his intention hesends due notice, that fitting preparation may be timeously made."
"Friend," said the Sub-Prior, "believe not that I will do to the FatherAbbot the indignity of delivering such an errand.--Think'st thou thegoods of the church were bestowed upon her by holy princes and piousnobles, now dead and gone, to be consumed in revelry by every profligatelayman who numbers in his train more followers than he can supportby honest means, or by his own incomings? Tell thy master, from theSub-Prior of Saint Mary's, that the Primate hath issued his commands tous that we submit no longer to this compulsory exaction of hospitalityon slight or false pretences. Our lands and goods were given to relievepilgrims and pious persons, not to feast bands of rude soldiers."
"This to me!" said the angry spearman, "this to me and to mymaster--Look to yourself then, Sir Priest, and try if _Ave_ and _Credo_will keep bullocks from wandering, and hay-stacks from burning."
"Dost thou menace the Holy Church's patrimony with waste andfire-raising," said the Sub-Prior, "and that in the face of the sun? Icall on all who hear me to bear witness to the words this ruffian hasspoken. Remember how the Lord James drowned such as you by scores in theblack pool at Jeddart.-To him and to the Primate will I complain." Thesoldier shifted the position of his lance, and brought it down to alevel with the monk's body.
Dame Glendinning began to shriek for assistance. "Tibb Tacket! Martin!where be ye all?--Christie, for the love of God, consider he is a man ofHoly Kirk!"
"I care not for his spear," said the Sub-Prior; "if I am slain indefending the rights and privileges of my community, the Primate willknow how to take vengeance."
"Let him look to himself," said Christie, but at the same timedepositing his lance against the wall of the tower; "if the Fife menspoke true who came hither with the Governor in the last raid, NormanLeslie has him at feud, and is like to set him hard. We know Norman atrue bloodhound, who will never quit the slot. But I had no design tooffend the holy father," he added, thinking perhaps he had gone a littletoo far; "I am a rude man, bred to lance and stirrup, and not used todeal with book-learned men and priests; and I am willing to ask hisforgiveness--and his blessing, if I have said aught amiss."
"For God's sake! your reverence," said the widow of Glendearg apart tothe Sub-Prior, "bestow on him your forgiveness--how shall we poor folksleep in security in the dark nights, if the convent is at feud withsuch men as he is?"
"You are right, dame," said the Sub-Prior, "your safety should, and mustbe, in the first instance consulted.--Soldier, I forgive thee, and mayGod bless thee and send thee honesty."
Christie of the Clinthill made an unwilling inclination with hishead, and muttered apart, "that is as much as to say, God send theestarvation, But now to my master's demand, Sir Priest? What answer am Ito return?"
"That the body of the widow of Walter of Avenel," answered the Father,"shall be interred as becomes her rank, and in the tomb of her valianthusband. For your master's proffered visit of three days, with sucha company and retinue, I have no authority to reply to it; you mustintimate your Chief's purpose to the Reverend Lord Abbot."
"That will cost me a farther ride," said the man, "but it is all in theday's work.--How now, my lad," said he to Halbert, who was handlingthe long lance which he had laid aside; "how do you like such aplaything?--will you go with me and be a moss-trooper?"
"The Saints in their mercy forbid!" said the poor mother; and then,afraid of having displeased Christie by the vivacity of her exclamation,she followed it up by explaining, that since Simon's death she couldnot look on a spear or a bow, or any implement of destruction withouttrembling.
"Pshaw!" answered Christie, "thou shouldst take another husband, dame,and drive such follies out of thy thoughts--what sayst thou to such astrapping lad as I? Why, this old tower of thine is fensible enough, andthere is no want of clenchs, and crags, and bogs, and thickets, if onewas set hard; a man might bide here and keep his half-score of lads, andas many geldings, and live on what he could lay his hand on, and be kindto thee, old wench."
"Alas! Master Christie," said the matron, "that you should talk to alone woman in such a fashion, and death in the house besides!"
"Lone woman!--why, that is the very reason thou shouldst take a mate.Thy old friend is dead, why, good--choose thou another of somewhattougher frame, and that will not die of the pip like a youngchicken.--Better still--Co
me, dame, let me have something to eat, and wewill talk more of this."
Dame Elspeth, though she well knew the character of the man, whom infact she both disliked and feared, could not help simpering at thepersonal address which he thought proper to make to her. She whisperedto the Sub-Prior, "ony thing just to keep him quiet," and went into thetower to set before the soldier the food he desired, trusting betwixtgood cheer and the power of her own charms, to keep Christie of theClinthill so well amused, that the altercation betwixt him and the holyfather should not be renewed.
The Sub-Prior was equally unwilling to hazard any unnecessary rupturebetween the community and such a person as Julian of Avenel. He wassensible that moderation, as well as firmness, was necessary to supportthe tottering cause of the Church of Rome; and that, contrary to formertimes, the quarrels betwixt the clergy and laity had, in the present,usually terminated to the advantage of the latter. He resolved,therefore, to avoid farther strife by withdrawing, but failed not, inthe first place, to possess himself of the volume which the Sacristancarried off the evening before, and which had been returned to the glenin such a marvellous manner.
Edward, the younger of Dame Elspeth's boys, made great objections to thebook's being removed, in which Mary would probably have joined, but thatshe was now in her little sleeping-chamber with Tibb, who was exertingher simple skill to console the young lady for her mother's death. Butthe younger Glendinning stood up in defence of her property, and, with apositiveness which had hitherto made no part of his character, declared,that now the kind lady was dead, the book was Mary's, and no one butMary should have it.
"But if it is not a fit book for Mary to read, my dear boy," said thefather, gently, "you would not wish it to remain with her?"
"The lady read it," answered the young champion of property; "and so itcould not be wrong--it shall not be taken away.--I wonder where Halbertis?--listening to the bravading tales of gay Christie, I reckon,--he isalways wishing for fighting, and now he is out of the way."
"Why, Edward, you would not fight with me, who am both a priest and oldman?"
"If you were as good a priest as the Pope," said the boy, "and as oldas the hills to boot, you shall not carry away Mary's book without herleave. I will do battle for it."
"But see you, my love," said the monk, amused with the resolutefriendship manifested by the boy, "I do not take it; I only borrow it;and I leave in its place my own gay missal, as a pledge I will bring itagain."
Edward opened the missal with eager curiosity, and glanced atthe pictures with which it was illustrated. "Saint George and thedragon--Halbert will like that; and Saint Michael brandishing his swordover the head of the Wicked One--and that will do for Halbert too. Andsee the Saint John leading his lamb in the wilderness, with hislittle cross made of reeds, and his scrip and staff--that shall bemy favourite; and where shall we find one for poor Mary?--here is abeautiful woman weeping and lamenting herself."
"This is Saint Mary Magdalen repenting of her sins, my dear boy," saidthe father.
"That will not suit _our_ Mary; for she commits no faults, and is neverangry with us, but when we do something wrong."
"Then," said the father, "I will show you a Mary, who will protect herand you, and all good children. See how fairly she is represented, withher gown covered with golden stars."
The boy was lost in wonder at the portrait of the Virgin, which theSub-Prior turned up to him.
"This," he said, "is really like our sweet Mary; and I think I will letyou take away the black book, that has no such goodly shows in it, andleave this for Mary instead. But you must promise to bring back thebook, good father--for now I think upon it, Mary may like that bestwhich was her mother's."
"I will certainly return," said the monk, evading his answer, "andperhaps I may teach you to write and read such beautiful letters as yousee there written, and to paint them blue, green, and yellow, and toblazon them with gold."
"Ay, and to make such figures as these blessed Saints, and especiallythese two Marys?" said the boy.
"With their blessing," said the Sub-Prior, "I can teach you that arttoo, so far as I am myself capable of showing, and you of learning it.""Then," said Edward, "will I paint Mary's picture--and remember you areto bring back the black book; that you must promise me."
The Sub-Prior, anxious to get rid of the boy's pertinacity, and toset forward on his return to the convent, without having any furtherinterview with Christie the galloper, answered by giving the promiseEdward required, mounted his mule, and set forth on his return homeward.
The November day was well spent ere the Sub-Prior resumed his journey;for the difficulty of the road, and the various delays which he had metwith at the tower, had detained him longer than he proposed. A chilleasterly wind was sighing among the withered leaves, and stripping themfrom the hold they had yet retained on the parent trees.
"Even so," said the monk, "our prospects in this vale of time grow moredisconsolate as the stream of years passes on. Little have I gained bymy journey, saving the certainty that heresy is busy among us with morethan his usual activity, and that the spirit of insulting religiousorders, and plundering the Church's property, so general in the easterndistricts of Scotland, has now come nearer home."
The tread of a horse which came up behind him, interrupted his reverie,and he soon saw he was mounted by the same wild rider whom he had leftat the tower.
"Good even, my son, and benedicite," said the Sub-Prior as he passed;but the rude soldier scarce acknowledged the greeting, by bending hishead; and dashing the spurs into his horse, went on at a pace which soonleft the monk and his mule far behind. And there, thought the Sub-Prior,goes another plague of the times--a fellow whose birth designed himto cultivate the earth, but who is perverted by the unhallowed andunchristian divisions of the country, into a daring and dissoluterobber. The barons of Scotland are now turned masterful thieves andruffians, oppressing the poor by violence, and wasting the Church, byextorting free-quarters from abbeys and priories, without either shameor reason. I fear me I shall be too late to counsel the Abbot to make astand against these daring _sorners_ [Footnote: To _sorne_, in Scotland,is to exact free quarters against the will of the landlord. It isdeclared equivalent to theft, by a statute passed in the year 1445. Thegreat chieftains oppressed the monasteries very much by exactions ofthis nature. The community of Aberbrothwick complained of an Earl ofAngus, I think, who was in the regular habit of visiting them oncea year, with a train of a thousand horse, and abiding till the wholewinter provisions of the convent were exhausted.]--"I must make haste."He struck his mule with his riding wand accordingly; but, instead ofmending her pace, the animal suddenly started from the path, and therider's utmost efforts could not force her forward.
"Art thou, too, infected with the spirit of the times?" said theSub-Prior; "thou wert wont to be ready and serviceable, and art now asrestive as any wild jack-man or stubborn heretic of them all."
While he was contending with the startled animal, a voice, like that ofa female, chanted in his ear, or at least very close to it,
"Good evening-. Sir Priest, and so late as you ride, With your mule so fair, and your mantle so wide; But ride you through valley, or ride you o'er hill. There is one that has warrant to wait on you still. Back, back, The volume black! I have a warrant to carry it back."
The Sub-Prior looked around, but neither bush nor brake was near whichcould conceal an ambushed songstress. "May Our Lady have mercy on me!"he said; "I trust my senses have not forsaken me--yet how my thoughtsshould arrange themselves into rhymes which I despise, and music whichI care not for, or why there should be the sound of a female voicein ears, in which its melody has been so long indifferent, baffles mycomprehension, and almost realizes the vision of Philip the Sacristan.Come, good mule, betake thee to the path, and let us hence while ourjudgment serves us."
But the mule stood as if it had been rooted to the spot, backed from thepoint to which it was pressed by its rider, and by her
ears laidclose into her neck, and her eyes almost starting from their sockets,testified that she was under great terror.
While the Sub-Prior, by alternate threats and soothing, endeavoured toreclaim the wayward animal to her duty, the wild musical voice was againheard close beside him.
"What, ho! Sub-Prior, and came you but here To conjure a book from a dead woman's bier? Sain you, and save you, be wary and wise, Ride back with the book, or you'll pay for your prize. Back, back. There's death in the track! In the name of my master I bid thee bear back."
"In the name of MY Master," said the astonished monk, "that name beforewhich all things created tremble, I conjure thee to say what thou artthat hauntest me thus?"
The same voice replied,
"That which is neither ill nor well. That which belongs not to Heaven nor to hell, A wreath of the mist, a bubble of the stream, 'Twixt a waking thought and a sleeping dream; A form that men spy With the half-shut eye. In the beams of the setting sun, am I."
"This is more than simple fantasy," said the Sub-Prior, rousing himself;though, notwithstanding the natural hardihood of his temper, thesensible presence of a supernatural being so near him, failed not tomake his blood run cold, and his hair bristle. "I charge thee," he saidaloud, "be thine errand what it will, to depart and trouble me nomore! False spirit, thou canst not appal any save those who do the worknegligently." The voice immediately answered:
"Vainly, Sir Prior, wouldst thou bar me my right! Like the star when it shoots, I can dart through the night; I can dance on the torrent and ride on the air, And travel the world with the bonny night-mare. Again, again, At the crook of the glen, Where bickers the burnie, I'll meet thee again."
The road was now apparently left open; for the mule collected herself,and changed from her posture of terror to one which promised advance,although a profuse perspiration, and general trembling of the joints,indicated the bodily terror she had undergone.
"I used to doubt the existence of Cabalists and Rosicrucians," thoughtthe Sub-Prior, "but, by my Holy Order, I know no longer what to say!--Mypulse beats temperately--my hand is cool--I am fasting from everythingbut sin, and possessed of my ordinary faculties--Either some fiend ispermitted to bewilder me, or the tales of Cornelius Agrippa,Paracelsus, and others who treat of occult philosophy, are not withoutfoundation.--At the crook of the glen? I could have desired to avoid asecond meeting, but I am on the service of the Church, and the gates ofhell shall not prevail against me."
He moved around accordingly, but with precaution, and not without fear;for he neither knew the manner in which, or the place where his journeymight be next interrupted by his invisible attendant. He descended theglen without interruption for about a mile farther, when, just at thespot where the brook approached the steep hill, with a winding soabrupt as to leave scarcely room for a horse to pass, the mule was againvisited with the same symptoms of terror which had before interruptedher course. Better acquainted than before with the cause of herrestiveness, the Priest employed no effort to make her proceed, butaddressed himself to the object, which he doubted not was the same thathad formerly interrupted him, in the words of solemn exorcism prescribedby the Church of Rome on such occasions.
In reply to his demand, the voice again sung;--
"Men of good are bold as sackless,[Footnote: Sackless--Innocent.] Men of rude are wild and reckless, Lie thou still In the nook of the hill. For those be before thee that wish thee ill."
While the Sub-Prior listened, with his head turned in the direction fromwhich the sounds seemed to come, he felt as if something rushed againsthim; and ere he could discover the cause, he was pushed from his saddlewith gentle but irresistible force. Before he reached the ground hissenses were gone, and he lay long in a state of insensibility; forthe sunset had not ceased to gild the top of the distant hill when hefell,--and when he again became conscious of existence, the pale moonwas gleaming on the landscape. He awakened in a state of terror, fromwhich, for a few minutes, he found it difficult to shake himself free.At length he sate upon the grass, and became sensible, by repeatedexertion, that the only personal injury which he had sustained was thenumbness arising from extreme cold. The motion of something near himmade the blood again run to his heart, and by a sudden effort he startedup, and, looking around, saw to his relief that the noise was occasionedby the footsteps of his own mule. The peaceable animal had remainedquietly beside her master during his trance, browsing on the grass whichgrew plentifully in that sequestered nook.
With some exertion he collected himself, remounted the animal, andmeditating upon his wild adventure, descended the glen till its junctionwith the broader valley through which the Tweed winds. The drawbridgewas readily dropped at his first summons; and so much had he won uponthe heart of the churlish warden, that Peter appeared himself with alantern to show the Sub-Prior his way over the perilous pass.
"By my sooth, sir," he said, holding the light up to Father Eustace'sface, "you look sorely travelled and deadly pale--but a little matterserves to weary out you men of the cell. I now who speak to you--I haveridden--before I was perched up here on this pillar betwixt wind andwater--it may be thirty Scots miles before I broke my fast, and have hadthe red of a bramble rose in my cheek all the while--But will you tastesome food, or a cup of distilled waters?"
"I may not," said Father Eustace, "being under a vow; but I thank youfor your kindness, and pray you to give what I may not accept to thenext poor pilgrim who comes hither pale and fainting, for so it shall bethe better both with him here, and with you hereafter."
"By my faith, and I will do so," said Peter Bridge-Ward, "even for thysake--It is strange now, how this Sub-Prior gets round one's heart morethan the rest of these cowled gentry, that think of nothing but quaffingand stuffing!--Wife, I say--wife, we will give a cup of distilled watersand a crust of bread unto the next pilgrim that comes over; and ye maykeep for [Footnote: An old-fashioned name for an earthen jar forholding spirits.] the purpose the grunds of the last greybeard, and theill-baked bannock which the bairns couldna eat."
While Peter issued these charitable, and, at the same time, prudentinjunctions, the Sub-Prior, whose mild interference had awakened theBridge-Ward to such an act of unwonted generosity, was pacing onwardto the Monastery. In the way, he had to commune with and subdue his ownrebellious heart, an enemy, he was sensible, more formidable than anywhich the external powers of Satan could place in his way.
Father Eustace had indeed strong temptation to suppress theextraordinary incident which had befallen him, which he was the morereluctant to confess, because he had passed so severe a judgment uponFather Philip, who, as he was not unwilling to allow, had, on his returnfrom Glendearg, encountered obstacles somewhat similar to his own. Ofthis the Sub-Prior was the more convinced, when, feeling in his bosomfor the Book which he had brought off from the Tower of Glendearg, hefound it was amissing, which he could only account for by supposing ithad been stolen from him during his trance.
"If I confess this strange visitation," thought the Sub-Prior, "I becomethe ridicule of all my brethren--I whom the Primate sent hither to be awatch, as it were, and a check upon their follies. I give the Abbot anadvantage over me which I shall never again recover, and Heaven onlyknows how he may abuse it, in his foolish simplicity, to the dishonourand loss of Holy Kirk.--But then, if I make not true confession ofmy shame, with what face can I again presume to admonish or restrainothers?--Avow, proud heart," continued he, addressing himself, "that theweal of Holy Church interests thee less in this matter than thine ownhumiliation--Yes, Heaven has punished thee even in that point in whichthou didst deem thyself most strong, in thy spiritual pride and thycarnal wisdom. Thou hast laughed at and derided the inexperience of thybrethren--stoop thyself in turn to their derision--tell what theymay not believe--affirm that which they will ascribe to idle fear, orperhaps to idle falsehood--sustain the disgrace of a silly visionary,or a wil
ful deceiver.--Be it so, I will do my duty, and make ampleconfession to my Superior. If the discharge of this duty destroys myusefulness in this house, God and Our Lady will send me where I canbetter serve them."
There was no little merit in the resolution thus piously and generouslyformed by Father Eustace. To men of any rank the esteem of their orderis naturally most dear; but in the monastic establishment, cut off, asthe brethren are, from other objects of ambition, as well as from allexterior friendship and relationship, the place which they hold in theopinion of each other is all in all.
But the consciousness how much he should rejoice the Abbot and most ofthe other monks of Saint Mary's, who were impatient of the unauthorized,yet irresistible control, which he was wont to exercise in the affairsof the convent, by a confession which would put him in a ludicrous, orperhaps even in a criminal point of view, could not weigh with FatherEustace in comparison with the task which his belief enjoined.
As, strong in his feelings of duty, he approached the exterior gateof the Monastery, he was surprised to see torches gleaming, and menassembled around it, some on horseback, some on foot, while several ofthe monks, distinguished through the night by their white scapularies,were making themselves busy among the crowd. The Sub-Prior was receivedwith a unanimous shout of joy, which at once made him sensible that hehad himself been the object of their anxiety.
"There he is! there he is! God be thanked--there he is, hale andfear!" exclaimed the vassals; while the monks exclaimed, "_Te Deumlaudamus_--the blood of thy servants is precious in thy sight!"
"What is the matter, children? what is the matter, my brethren?" saidFather Eustace, dismounting at the gate.
"Nay, brother, if thou know'st not, we will not tell thee till thou artin the refectory," answered the monks; "suffice it that the Lord Abbothad ordered these, our zealous and faithful vassals, instantly to setforth to guard thee from imminent peril--Ye may ungirth your horses,children, and dismiss; and to-morrow, each who was at this rendezvousmay send to the convent kitchen for a quarter of a yard of roast beef,and a black-jack full of double ale." [Footnote: It was one of the fewreminiscences of Old Parr, or Henry Jenkins, I forget which, that, atsome convent in the veteran's neighbourhood, the community, before thedissolution, used to dole out roast-beef in the measure of feet andyards.]
The vassals dispersed with joyful acclamation, and the monks, with equaljubilee, conducted the Sub-Prior into the refectory.