hands the primal cause and fomentor of this cruel and bloody war, the Lady Jane Howard.’
The Douglas started like one aroused from slumber, or a state of lethargy, by a sudden wound. ‘What did you say, boy?’ said he. ‘Either I heard amiss, or you are dreaming. I have offered estates, nay, I have offered an earldom, to any hardy adventurer who would bring me that imperious dame; but the project has been abandoned as quite impracticable.’
‘Rest content,’ said Colin: ‘I have secured her, and she will be delivered into your hands before night. She has safe passports with her to the Scottish court, but they are in favour of Jasper Tudor, son to the Earl of Pembroke; so that the discovery of her sex proves her an impostor, and subjects her to martial law, which I request, for my mistress’ sake, you will execute on her. My lady the princess, with all her beauty, and high accomplishments, is a very woman; and I know there is nothing on earth she so much dreads as the triumph of Lady Jane over her. Besides, it is evident she was bound to the Scottish court either to poison the princess, or inveigle her into the hands of her enemies. All her attendants are ignorant of her sex, save her page, who is said to be a blooming English country maiden. The Prince Alexander bade me charge you never to mention by what means she came into your hands, but to give it out that she was brought to you by a miracle, by witchcraft, or by the power of a mighty magician.’ ‘It is well thought of, boy,’ said the Douglas, greatly elevated – ‘I have been obliged to have recourse to such means already – this will confirm all. The princess your mistress desired that you should remain with me. You shall be my right hand page, I will love and favour you; you shall be fed with the bread and wine, and shall sleep in my tent, and I will trust you with all my secrets for the welcome tidings you have brought, and for the sake of the angelic dame that recommends you to me; for she is my beloved, my adored mistress, and for her will I either conquer or die! My sword is her’s – my life is her’s – Nay, my very soul is the right of my beloved!’ Poor Colin dropped a tear on hearing this passionate nonsense. Women love extravagance in such matters, but in those days it had no bounds.
It was not long till the prisoners arrived, under the care of muckle Charlie Scott of Yardbire and Dan Chisholm, with their troopers, guarded in a very original manner. When Charlie arrived at old Chisholm’s house and learned that a prince had been there, and had given such charges about the prisoners, he determined to make sure work; and as he had always most trust to put in himself, he took the charge of the young English nobleman and his squire, as he supposed them to be. The page he took on his huge black horse behind him, lashing him to his body with strong belts cut from a cow’s raw hide. His ancles were moreover fastened to the straps at the tops of Charlie’s great war boots; so that the English maiden must have had a very uncomfortable ride. But the other he held on before him, keeping her all the way in his arms, exactly as a countryman holds up a child in the church to be christened.
The Lady Jane Howard had plenty of the spirit of romance about her, but she neither had the frame nor the energy of mind requisite for carrying her wild dreams of female heroism into effect. She was an only child – a spoiled one; having been bred up without perhaps ever being controlled, till she fell into the hands of these border mosstroopers. Her displeasure was excessive––. She complained bitterly of her detainment, and much more of being sent a prisoner to the camp. When she found herself in muckle Charlie Scott’s arms, borne away to be given up to the man whom of all the world she had most reason to dread, she even forgot herself so far as to burst into tears. Charlie, with all his inordinate strength and prowess, had a heart so soft, that, as he said himself, ‘a laverock might hae laired in’t;’ and he farther added, that when he saw ‘the bit bonny English callan’, that was comed o’ sic grand blude, grow sae desperately wae, an’ fa’ a blirting and greeting, the deil a bit but his heart was like to come out at his mouth.’ This was no lie, for his comrades beheld him two or three times come across his eyes with his mailed sleeve – a right uncouth handkerchief; and then he tried to comfort the youth with the following speech: ‘Troth, man, but I’m unco wae for ye, ye’re sae young an’ sae bonny, an’ no’ a fit man at a’ to send out i’ thir crabbit times. But tak good heart, an’ dinna be dauntit, for it will soon be over w’ye. Ye’ll neither hae muckle to thole nor lang time to dree’t, for our captain will hang ye directly. He hangs a’ spies an’ messengers aff hand; sae it’s no worth naebody’s while to greet. Short wark’s aye best i’ sic cases.’
‘He cannot, he dares not injure a hair of my head,’ said Lady Jane passionately.
‘Canna!’ said Charlie, ‘Gude faith, ye ken that’s nonsense. He can as easily hang ye, or do ought else w’ye, as I can wipe my beard. An’ as for the thing that the Douglas darena do, gude faith, ye ken, I never saw it yet. But I’m sure I wish ye may be safe, for it wad do little good to me to see your bit pease-weep neck rackit.’
‘It was most unfair, as well as most ungenerous in your prince to detain me,’ said she, ‘as my business required urgency. I had regular signed warrandice, and went on the kindest intent; besides, I have a great aversion to be put into the hands of Douglas. How many cows and ewes would you take to set me at liberty?’
‘Whisht, whisht, Sir!’ said Charlie; ‘Gudesake haud your tongue! That’s kittle ground. Never speak o’ sic a thing. But how many could ye afford to gie, and I were to set you at liberty?’
‘In the first place, I will give you five hundred head of good English nolt,’ said Lady Jane.
‘Eh? What?’ said Charlie, holding his horse still, and turning his ear close round to the lady’s face, that he might hear with perfect distinctness the extraordinary proffer. It was repeated. Charlie was almost electrified with astonishment. ‘Five hunder head o’ nout!’ exclaimed he: ‘But d’ye mean their heads by theirsels? – cuttit aff, like?’
‘No, no; five hundred good live cattle.’
‘Mercy on us! Gude faith, they wad stock a’ Yardbire – an’ Raeburn,’ added he, after a pause, putting his horse again slowly in motion; ‘an’ Watkerrick into the bargain,’ added he, with a full drawn sigh, putting the spurs to his beast, that he might go quicker to carry him away from the danger. ‘For troth, d’ye ken, my lord, we’re no that scarce o’ grund in Scotland; we can get plenty o’ that for little thing, gin we could get ought to lay on’t. But it’s hard to get beasts, an’ kittle to keep them i’ our country. Five hunder head o’ black cattle! Hech! an Charlie Scott had a’ thae, how mony braw lads could he tak at his back o’er Craikcorse to join his master the warden! But come, come, it canna be. War somebody a Scots lord, as he’s an English ane, an i’ the same danger, I wad risk muckle to set him free. But come, Corby, my fine naig, ye hae carried me into mony a scrape, ye maun carry me out o’ this ane, or, gude faith, your master’s gane. Ha, lad, ye never had sic a backfu’ i’ your life! Ye hae five hunder head o’ black cattle on’t, ye dog, an’ ye’re carrying them a’ away frae your master an’ Yardbire wi’ as little ceremony as he took you frae Squire Weir o’ Cockermouth. Ah, Corby, ye’re gayan like your master, ye hae a lang free kind o’ conscience, ye tike!’
‘But, my dear Sir,’ said Lady Jane, ‘you have not heard the half of my proffer. You seem to be a generous, sensible, and good natured gentleman.’
‘Do I?’ said Charlie, ‘Thanks t’ye, my lord.’
‘Now,’ continued she, ‘if you will either set me and my page safely down on English ground, or within the ports of Edinborough, I’ll add five thousand sheep to the proffer I have already made you.’
‘Are ye no joking?’ said Charlie, again stopping his horse.
‘On my honour I am not,’ was the answer.
‘They’ll stock a’ Blake-Esk-head an’ the Garald-Grains,’
