CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.
The drivers thorough the wood went, For to raise the deer; Bowmen bickered upon the bent, With their broad arrows clear.
The wylde thorough the woods went, On every side shear; Grehounds thorough the groves glent, For to kill thir deer. BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE, _Old Edit_.
The appointed morning came in cold and raw, after the manner of theScottish March weather. Dogs yelped, yawned, and shivered, and thehuntsmen, though hardy and cheerful in expectation of the day's sport,twitched their mauds, or Lowland plaids, close to their throats, andlooked with some dismay at the mists which floated about the horizon,now threatening to sink down on the peaks and ridges of prominentmountains, and now to shift their position under the influence of someof the uncertain gales, which rose and fell alternately, as they sweptalong the valley.
Nevertheless, the appearance of the whole formed, as is usual in almostall departments of the chase, a gay and a jovial spectacle. A brieftruce seemed to have taken place between the nations, and the Scottishpeople appeared for the time rather as exhibiting the sports of theirmountains in a friendly manner to the accomplished knights and bonnyarchers of Old England, than as performing a feudal service, neithereasy nor dignified in itself, at the instigation of usurpingneighbours. The figures of the cavaliers, now half seen, now exhibitedfully, and at the height, of strenuous exertion, according to thecharacter of the dangerous and broken ground, particularly attractedthe attention of the pedestrians, who, leading the dogs or beating thethickets, dislodged such objects of chase as they found in the dingles,and kept their eyes fixed upon their companions, rendered moreremarkable from being mounted, and the speed at which they urged theirhorses; the disregard of all accidents being as perfect asMelton-Mowbray itself, or any other noted field of hunters of thepresent day, can exhibit.
The principles on which modern and ancient hunting were conducted, are,however, as different as possible. A fox, or even a hare is, in our ownday, considered as a sufficient apology for a day's exercise to fortyor fifty dogs, and nearly as many men and horses; but the ancientchase, even though not terminating, as it often did, in battle, carriedwith it objects more important, and an interest immeasurably morestirring. If indeed one species of exercise can be pointed out as moreuniversally exhilarating and engrossing than others, it is certainlythat of the chase. The poor over-laboured drudge, who has served outhis day of life, and wearied all his energies in the service of hisfellow-mortals--he who has been for many years the slave ofagriculture, or (still worse) of manufactures, engaged in raising asingle peck of corn from year to year, or in the monotonous labours ofthe desk--can hardly remain dead to the general happiness when thechase sweeps past him with hound and horn, and for a moment feels allthe exultation of the proudest cavalier who partakes the amusement. Letany one who has witnessed the sight recall to his imagination thevigour and lively interest which he has seen inspired into a village,including the oldest and feeblest of its inhabitants. In the words ofWordsworth, it is, on such occasions,
"Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away, Not a soul will remain in the village to-day; The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds, And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds."
But compare those inspiring sounds to the burst of a whole feudalpopulation enjoying the sport, whose lives, instead of being spent inthe monotonous toil of modern avocations, have been agitated by thehazards of war, and of the chase, its near resemblance, and you mustnecessarily suppose that the excitation is extended, like a fire whichcatches to dry heath. To use the common expression, borrowed fromanother amusement, all is fish that comes in the net on such occasions.An ancient hunting-match (the nature of the carnage excepted) wasalmost equal to a modern battle, when the strife took place on thesurface of a varied and unequal country. A whole district poured forthits inhabitants, who formed a ring of great extent, called technically,a tinchel, and, advancing and narrowing their circle by degrees, drovebefore them the alarmed animals of every kind; all and each of which,as they burst from the thicket or the moorland, were objects of thebow, the javelin, or whatever missile weapons the hunters possessed;while others were run down and worried by large greyhounds, or morefrequently brought to bay, when the more important persons presentclaimed for themselves the pleasure of putting them to death with theirchivalrous hands, incurring individually such danger as is inferredfrom a mortal contest even with the timid buck, when he is brought tothe death-struggle, and has no choice but yielding his life or puttinghimself upon the defensive, by the aid of his splendid antlers, andwith all the courage of despair.
The quantity of game found in Douglas Dale on this occasion was veryconsiderable, for, as already noticed, it was a long time since ahunting upon a great scale had been attempted under the Douglassesthemselves, whose misfortunes had commenced several years before, withthose of their country. The English garrison, too, had not soonerjudged themselves strong or numerous enough to exercise these valuedfeudal privileges. In the meantime, the game increased considerably.The deer, the wild cattle, and the wild boars, lay near the foot of themountains, and made frequent irruptions into the lower part of thevalley, which in Douglas Dale bears no small resemblance to an oasis,surrounded by tangled woods, and broken moors, occasionally rocky, andshowing large tracts of that bleak dominion to which wild creaturesgladly escape when pressed by the neighbourhood of man.
As the hunters traversed the spots which separated the field from thewood, there was always a stimulating uncertainty what sort of game wasto be found, and the marksman, with his bow ready bent, or his javelinpoised, and his good and well-bitted horse thrown upon its haunches,ready for a sudden start, observed watchfully what should rush from thecovert, so that, were it deer, boar, wolf, wild cattle, or any otherspecies of game, he might be in readiness.
The wolf, which, on account of its ravages, was the most obnoxious ofthe beasts of prey, did not, however, supply the degree of diversionwhich his name promised; he usually fled far--in some instances manymiles--before he took courage to turn to bay, and though formidable atsuch moments, destroying both dogs and men by his terrible bite, yet atother times was rather despised for his cowardice. The boar, on theother hand, was a much more irascible and courageous animal.
The wild cattle, the most formidable of all the tenants of the ancientCaledonian forest, were, however, to the English cavaliers, by far themost interesting objects of pursuit. [Footnote: These Bulls are thusdescribed by Hector Boetius, concerning whom he says--"In this wood(namely the Caledonian wood) were sometime white bulls, with crisp andcurling manes, like fierce lions; and though they seemed meek and tamein the remanent figure of their bodies, they were more wild than anyother beasts, and had such hatred against the society and company ofmen, that they never came in the woods nor lesuries where they foundany foot or hand thereof, and many days after they eat not of the herbsthat were touched or handled by man. These bulls were so wild, thatthey were never taken but by slight and crafty labour, and soimpatient, that after they were taken they died from insupportabledolour. As soon as any man, invaded these bulls, they rushed with such,terrible press upon him that they struck him to the earth, taking nofear of hounds, sharp lances, or other most penetrativeweapons."--_Boetius, Chron. Scot_. Vol. I. page xxxix.
The wild cattle of this breed, which are now only known in one manor inEngland, that of Chillingham Castle, in Northumberland, (the seat ofthe Earl of Tankerville,) were, in the memory of man, still preservedin three places in Scotland, namely, Drumlanrig, Cumbernauld, and theupper park at Hamilton Palace, at all of which places, except the last,I believe, they have now been destroyed, on account of their ferocity.But though those of modern days are remarkable for their white colour,with black muzzles, and exhibiting, in a small degree, the black mane,about three or four inches long, by which the bulls in particular aredistinguished, they do not by any means come near the terrificdescription given us by the ancient authors,
which has made somenaturalists think that these animals should probably be referred to adifferent species, though possessing the same general habits, andincluded in the same genus. The bones, which are often discovered inScottish mosses, belong certainly to a race of animals much larger thanthose of Chillingham, which seldom grow to above 80 stone (of 14 lbs.),the general weight varying from 60 to 80 stone. We should be accountedvery negligent by one class of readers, did we not record that the beeffurnished by those cattle is of excellent flavour, and finely marbled.
[The following is an extract from, a letter received by Sir WalterScott, some time after the publication of the novel.--
"When it is wished to kill any of the cattle at Chillingham, the keepergoes into the herd on horseback, in which way they are quiteaccessible, and singling out his victim, takes aim with a largerifle-gun, and seldom fails in bringing him down. If the poor animalmakes much bellowing in his agony, and especially if the ground bestained with his blood, his companions become very furious, and arethemselves, I believe, accessory to his death. After which, they flyoff to a distant part of the park, and he is drawn away on a sledge.Lord Tankerville is very tenacious of these singular animals; he willon no account part with a living one, and hardly allows of a sufficientnumber being killed, to leave pasturage for those that remain.
"It happened on one occasion, three or four years ago, that a partyvisiting at the castle, among whom were some men of war, who had huntedbuffaloes in foreign parts, obtained permission to do the keeper'swork, and shoot one of the wild cattle. They sallied out on horseback,and duly equipped for the enterprise, attacked their object. The pooranimal received several wounds, but none of them proving fatal, heretired before his pursuers, roaring with pain and rage, till, plantinghimself against a wall or tree, he stood at bay, offering a front ofdefiance. In this position the youthful heir of the castle, LordOssulston, rode up to give him the fatal shot. Though warned of thedanger of approaching near to the enraged animal, and especially offiring without first having turned his horse's head in a direction tobe ready for flight, he discharged his piece; but ere he could turn hishorse round to make his retreat, the raging beast had plunged hisimmense horns into its flank. The horse staggered and was near falling,but recovering by a violent effort, he extricated himself from hisinfuriated pursuer, making off with all the speed his wasting strengthsupplied, his entrails meanwhile dragging on the ground, till at lengthhe fell, and died at the same moment. The animal was now close upon hisrear, and the young Lord would unquestionably have shared the fate ofhis unhappy steed, had not the keeper, deeming it full time to concludethe day's diversion, fired at the instant. His shot brought the beastto the ground, and running in with his large knife, he put a period tohis existence.
"This scene of gentlemanly pastime was viewed from a turret of thecastle by Lady Tankerville and her female visitors. Such a situationfor the mother of the young hero, was anything but enviable."]]Altogether, the ringing of bugles, the clattering of horses' hoofs, thelowing and bellowing of the enraged mountain cattle, the sobs of deermingled by throttling dogs, the wild shouts of exultation of themen,--made a chorus which extended far through the scene in which itarose, and seemed to threaten the inhabitants of the valley even in itsinmost recesses.
During the course of the hunting, when a stag or a boar was expected,one of the wild cattle often came rushing forward, bearing down theyoung trees, crashing the branches in its progress, and in generaldispersing whatever opposition was presented to it by the hunters. SirJohn de Walton was the only one of the chivalry of the party whoindividually succeeded in mastering one of these powerful animals. Likea Spanish tauridor, he bore down and killed with his lance a ferociousbull; two well-grown calves and three kine were also slain, beingunable to carry off the quantity of arrows, javelins, and othermissiles, directed against them by the archers and drivers; but manyothers, in spite of every endeavour to intercept them, escaped to theirgloomy haunts in the remote skirts of the mountain called Cairntable,with their hides well feathered with those marks of human enmity.
A large portion of the morning was spent in this way, until aparticular blast from the master of the hunt announced that he had notforgot the discreet custom of the repast, which, on such occasions, wasprovided for upon a scale proportioned to the multitude who had beenconvened to attend the sport.
The blast peculiar to the time, assembled the whole party in an openspace in a wood, where their numbers had room and accommodation to sitdown upon the green turf, the slain game affording a plentiful supplyfor roasting or broiling, an employment in which the lower class wereall immediately engaged; while puncheons and pipes, placed inreadiness, and scientifically opened, supplied Gascoigne wine, andmighty ale, at the pleasure of those who chose to appeal to them.
The knights, whose rank did not admit of interference, were seated bythemselves, and ministered to by their squires and pages, to whom suchmenial services were not accounted disgraceful, but, on the contrary, aproper step of their education. The number of those distinguishedpersons seated upon the present occasion at the table of dais, as itwas called, (in virtue of a canopy of green boughs with which it wasovershadowed,) comprehended Sir John de Walton, Sir Aymer de Valance,and some reverend brethren dedicated to the service of Saint Bride,who, though Scottish ecclesiastics, were treated with becoming respectby the English soldiers. One or two Scottish retainers, or vavasours,maintaining, perhaps in prudence, a suitable deference to the Englishknights, sat at the bottom of the table, and as many English archers,peculiarly respected by their superiors, were invited, according to themodern phrase, to the honours of the sitting.
Sir John de Walton sat at the head of the table; his eye, though itseemed to have no certain object, yet never for a moment remainedstationary, but glanced from one countenance to another of the ringformed by his guests, for such they all were, no doubt, though hehimself could hardly have told upon what principle he had issued theinvitations; and even apparently was at a loss to think what, in one ortwo cases, had procured him the honour of their presence.
One person in particular caught De Walton's eye, as having the air of aredoubted man-at-arms, although it seemed as if fortune had not of latesmiled upon his enterprises. He was a tall raw-boned man, of anextremely rugged countenance, and his skin, which showed itself throughmany a loophole in his dress, exhibited a complexion which must haveendured all the varieties of an outlawed life; and akin to one who had,according to the customary phrase, "ta'en the bent with Robin Bruce,"in other words occupied the moors with him as an insurgent. Some suchidea certainly crossed De Walton's mind. Yet the apparent coolness, andabsence of alarm, with which the stranger sat at the board of anEnglish officer, at the same time being wholly in his power, had muchin it which was irreconcilable with any such suggestion. De Walton, andseveral of those about him, had in the course of the day observed thatthis tattered cavalier, the most remarkable parts of whose garb andequipments consisted of an old coat-of-mail and a rusted yet massivepartisan about eight feet long, was possessed of superior skill in theart of hunting to any individual of their numerous party. The governorhaving looked at this suspicious figure until he had rendered thestranger aware of the special interest which he attracted, at lengthfilled a goblet of choice wine, and requested him, as one of the bestpupils of Sir Tristem who had attended upon the day's chase, to pledgehim in a vintage superior to that supplied to the general company.
"I suppose, however, sir," said De Walton, "you will have no objectionsto put off my challenge of a brimmer, until you can answer my pledge inGascoigne wine, which grew in the king's own demesne, was pressed forhis own lip, and is therefore fittest to be emptied to his majesty'shealth and prosperity."
"One half of the island of Britain," said the woodsman, with greatcomposure, "will be of your honour's opinion; but as I belong to theother half, even the choicest liquor in Gascony cannot render thathealth acceptable to me."
A murmur of disapprobation ran through the warriors present; thepriests hung thei
r heads, looked deadly grave, and muttered theirpater-nosters.
"You see, stranger," said De Walton sternly, "that your speechdiscomposes the company."
"It may be so," replied the man, in the same blunt tone; "and it mayhappen that there is no harm in the speech notwithstanding."
"Do you consider that it is made in my presence?" answered De Walton.
"Yes, Sir Governor."
"And have you thought what must be the necessary inference?" continuedDe Walton.
"I may form a round guess," answered the stranger, "what I might haveto fear, if your safe conduct and word of honour, when inviting me tothis hunting, were less trustworthy than I know full well it really is.But I am your guest--your meat is even now passing my throat--your cup,filled with right good wine, I have just now quaffed off--and I wouldnot fear the rankest Paynim infidel, if we stood in such relationtogether, much less an English knight. I tell you, besides, Sir Knight,you undervalue the wine we have quaffed. The high flavour and contentsof your cup, grow where it will, give me spirit to tell you one or twocircumstances, which cold cautious sobriety would, in a moment likethis, have left unsaid. You wish, I doubt not, to know who I am? MyChristian name is Michael--my surname is that of Turnbull, a redoubtedclan, to whose honours, even in the field of hunting or of battle, Ihave added something. My abode is beneath the mountain of Rubieslaw, bythe fair streams of Teviot. You are surprised that I know how to huntthe wild cattle,--I, who have made them my sport from infancy in thelonely forests of Jed and Southdean, and have killed more of them thanyou or any Englishman in your host ever saw, even if you include thedoughty deeds of this day."
The bold borderer made this declaration with the same provoking degreeof coolness which predominated in his whole demeanour, and was indeedhis principal attribute. His effrontery did not fail to produce itseffect upon Sir John De Walton, who instantly called out, "To arms! toarms!--Secure the spy and traitor! Ho! pages and yeomen--William,Anthony, Bend-the-bow, and Greenleaf--seize the traitor, and bind himwith your bow-strings and dog-leashes--bind him, I say, until the bloodstart from beneath his nails!"
"Here is a goodly summons!" said Turnbull, with a sort of horselaugh."Were I as sure of being answered by twenty men I could name, therewould be small doubt of the upshot of this day."
The archers thickened around the hunter, yet laid no hold on him, noneof them being willing to be the first who broke the peace proper to theoccasion.
"Tell me," said De Walton, "thou traitor, for what waitest thou here?"
"Simply and solely," said the Jed forester, "that I may deliver up tothe Douglas the castle of his ancestors, and that I may ensure thee,Sir Englishman, the payment of thy deserts, by cutting that very throatwhich thou makest such a brawling use of."
At the same time, perceiving that the yeomen were crowding behind himto carry their lord's commands into execution so soon as they should bereiterated, the huntsman turned himself short round upon those whoappeared about to surprise him, and having, by the suddenness of theaction, induced them to step back a pace, he proceeded--"Yes, John deWalton, my purpose was ere now to have put thee to death, as one whom Ifind in possession of that castle and territory which belong to mymaster, a knight much more worthy than thyself; but I know not why Ihave paused--thou hast given me food when I have hungered fortwenty-four hours, I have not therefore had the heart to pay thee atadvantage as thou hast deserved. Begone from this place and country,and take the fair warning of a foe; thou hast constituted thyself themortal enemy of this people, and there are those among them who haveseldom been injured or defied with impunity. Take no care in searchingafter me, it will be in vain,--until I meet thee at a time which willcome at my pleasure, not thine. Push not your inquisition into cruelty,to discover by what means I have deceived you, for it is impossible foryou to learn; and with this friendly advice, look at me and take yourleave, for although we shall one day meet, it may be long ere I see youagain."
De Walton remained silent, hoping that his prisoner, (for he saw nochance of his escaping,) might, in his communicative humour, drop somemore information, and was not desirous to precipitate a fray with whichthe scene was likely to conclude, unconscious at the same time of theadvantage which he thereby gave the daring hunter.
As Turnbull concluded his sentence, he made a sudden spring backwards,which carried him out of the circle formed around him, and before theywere aware of his intentions, at once disappeared among the underwood.
"Seize him--seize him!" repeated De Walton: "let us have him at leastat our discretion, unless the earth has actually swallowed him."
This indeed appeared not unlikely, for near the place where Turnbullhad made the spring, there yawned a steep ravine, into which heplunged, and descended by the assistance of branches, bushes, andcopsewood, until he reached the bottom, where he found some road to theoutskirts of the forest, through which he made his escape, leaving themost expert woodsmen among the pursuers totally at fault, and unable totrace his footsteps.