can be more grievously against our interest. If he be defeated, and forfeit his lands, the power of the Border will then remain with us; but should he succeed without our assistance, and become the king’s son-in-law, it will be a hard game with us to keep the footing that we have. I conceive, therefore, that in withdrawing our support we risk every thing – in lending it, we risk nothing but blows.’ All the kinsmen were silent. Dickie looked at my Lady Mountcomyn.
‘It is well known that there is an old prophecy existing,’ said she, ‘that a Scott shall sit in the Douglas’ chair, and be lord of all his domains. Well would it be for the country if that were so. But to support the overgrown power of that house is not the way to accomplish so desirable an object.’
‘That is true,’ said Dickie; ‘I’ll defy any man to go beyond what my lady says, or indeed whatever she says.’
‘Have we not had instances of their jealousy already?’ continued she.
‘We have had instances of their jealousy already,’ said Dickie, interrupting her.
‘And should we raise him to be the king’s son-in-law, he would kick us for our pains,’ rejoined she.
‘Ay, he would kick us for our pains,’ said Dickie; ‘think of that.’
‘Either please to drop your responses, Sir,’ said she, sternly, ‘or leave the hall. I would rather hear a raven croak on my turret in the day of battle, than the tongue of a flatterer or sycophant.’
‘That is very good indeed,’ said Dickie; ‘My lady is so pleasant; h’m, h’m, h’m! Excellent! h’m, h’m, h’m!’
Sir Ringan saw his lady drawing herself up in high indignation; and dreading that his poor kinsman would bring on himself such a rebuke as would banish him the hall for ever, he interposed. ‘Cousin,’ said he, ‘it’s a great fault in women that they canna bide interruption, an’ the mair they stand in need o’t they take it the waur. But I have not told you all yet: a very singular circumstance has happened to me this day. Who do you think I found waylaying me at my gate, but our kinsman, the powerful old warlock, Master Michael Scott.’
‘Master Michael Scott!’ exclaimed the whole circle, every one holding up his hands, ‘has he ventured to be seen by man once more? Then there is something uncommon to befal, or, perhaps, the world is coming to an end.’
‘God forbid!’ said Redhough: ‘It is true that, for seven years, he has been pent up in his enchanted tower at Aikwood, without speaking to anyone save his spirits; but though I do not know him, this must have been he, for he has told me such things as will astonish you; and, moreover, when he left me, he laid himself down on the top of the Little Law on his back, and the devils carried him away bodily through the air, or down through the earth, and I saw no more of him.’
All agreed that it had been the great magician Master Michael Scott. Sir Ringan then rehearsed the conversation that had passed between the wizard and himself. All the circle heard this with astonishment; some with suspense, and others with conviction, but Dickie with raptures of delight. ‘He assured me,’ said Redhough, ‘that my son should ride on his own land from Roxburgh to the Deadwater-fell.’
‘From Roxburgh to the Deadwater-fell!’ cried Dickie, ‘think of that! all the links of the bonny Teviot and Slitterick, ha, ha, lads, think of that!’ and he clapped his hands aloud without daring to turn his eyes to the head of the table.
‘And from the Deadwater-fell to the tower o’ Sark,’ rejoined the knight.
‘To the tower of Sark!’ exclaimed Dickie. ‘H – have a care of us! think of that! All the dales of Liddel, and Ewes, and the fertile fields of Cannobie! Who will be king of the Border, then, my lads? who will be king of the Border then? ha, ha, ha!’
‘And from the fords of Sark to the Deuchar-swire,’ added Sir Ringan.
Dickie sprang to his feet, and seizing a huge timber trencher, he waved it round his head. The chief beckoned for silence; but Dickie’s eyes were glistening with raptures, and it was with great difficulty he repressed his vociferations.
‘And over the Nine Glens of Niddisdale beside,’ said Sir Ringan.
Dickie could be restrained no longer. He brayed out, ‘Hurrah, hurrah!’ and waved his trencher round his head.
‘All the Esk, and the braid Forest, and the Nine Glens o’ Niddisdale! Hurrah! Hurrah! Mountcomyn for ever! The warden for ever! hu, hu! hu!’
The knight and his friends were obliged to smile at Dickie’s outrageous joy; but the lady rose and went out in high dudgeon. Dickie then gave full vent to his rapture without any mitigation of voice, adding, ‘My lady for ever!’ to the former two; and so shouting, he danced around, waving his immense wooden plate.
The frolic did not take, and Sir Ringan was obliged to call him to order. ‘You do not consider, cousin,’ said the warden, ‘that what a woman accounts excellent sport at one time is at another high offence. See, now, you have driven my lady away from our consultation, on whose advice I have a strong reliance; and I am afraid we will scarcely prevail on her to come back.’
‘Oh! there’s no fear of my lady and me,’ said Dickie; ‘we understand one another. My lady is a kind, generous, noble soul, and so pleasant!
‘For as pleasant and kind as she is, I am deceived if she is easily reconciled to you. Ye dinna ken Kate Dunbar, cousin––. Boy, tell your lady that we lack her counsel, and expect that she will lend us it for a short space.’
The boy did as he was ordered, but returned with an answer, that unless Dickie was dismissed she did not choose to be of the party.
‘I am sorry for it,’ said Sir Ringan; ‘but you may tell her that she may then remain where she is, for I can’t spare my cousin Dickie now, nor any day these five months.’ And with that he began and discussed the merits of the case pro and con with his kinsmen, as if nothing had happened; and in the end it was resolved, that, with a thousand horsemen, they would scour the east border to intercept all the supplies that should be sent out of England, and thus enrich themselves, while, at the same time, they would appear to countenance the mad undertaking of Douglas.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Come, come, my hearts of flint; modestly; decently; soberly; and handsomely––. No man afore his leader––. Ding down the enemy tomorrow – ye shall not come into the field like beggars––. Lord have mercy upon me, what a world this is! – Well, I’ll give an hundred pence for as many good feathers, and a hundred more for as many scarts: – wounds, dogs, to set you out withal! Frost and snow, a man cannot fight till he be brave! I say down with the enemy to-morrow!’
Sir John Oldcastle
THE CASTLE OF Roxburgh was beleaguered by seven thousand men in armour, but never before had it been so well manned, or rendered so formidable in its butresses; and to endeavour to scale it, appeared as vain an attempt as that of scaling the moon.
There was a great deal of parading, and noise went on, as that of beating drums, and sounding of trumpets and bugles, every day; and scarcely did there one pass on which there were not tilting bouts between the parties, and in these the English generally had the advantage. Never was there, perhaps, a more chivalrous host than that which Musgrave had under his command within the walls of Roxburgh; the enthusiasm, the gallantry, and the fire of the
