Chapter IV: Part 4

But Sir Piers, who sought only to protect himself from Charley's furious assault, accidentally failed in his very first guard. The weight of his assailant's blow broke through it, and falling upon the Knight's head, which had then nothing on it but a bonnet, it stretched him motionless on the sward. Charley Stewart stood for a moment to look with horror upon his work--the blood was gushing forth from the wound, and dying the white hair of him who had been his patron and friend. From that he turned and gazed upon the prostrate figure of Rosa MacDermot, who still lay in a kind of half-swoon from the effects of his violence. He felt as if his bursting heart would have forced its way through his side. Roused from his trance by the screams of the Widow MacDermot, he heard the galloping of horses approaching, and, rushing mechanically into the thickest part of the wood, he made his way towards the mountains, where night soon overtook him. Still he continued to wander on, however, without fixed intention or direction; and it was only on finding, at day-break, that he had already fled far towards the south, that, after having given due way to his affliction, he resolved to travel towards Edinburgh, to seek his father, where, as we have already seen, he ultimately arrived, weary and woe-begone.

The next morning, after Charley Stewart's appearance in Edinburgh, his father, Sir Walter Stewart, aroused him from the deep sleep into which his fatigue of body had thrown him, and which, as it was nearly the first he had had since the sad events which had driven him from the north, even their cruel influence upon his mind could not disturb. In reply to Sir Walter's inquiries, he gave him a brief statement of his history and his misfortunes, and his wounded spirit was soothed by the kind sympathy which Sir Walter manifested towards him.

"Charley," said he, "thy fate hath been a cruel one, truly; but thou must bestir thee to shake off thy sorrows. Nothing better, as a cure for melancholy, than action. I have an emprise on hand, that is for thee the very medicine that thou lackest, and as it may speedily end with thee in a journey to France, as the esquire of a knight whom it will do thee much honour to serve, it is, of all others, the very best chance that could befal thee under present circumstances. But the morning wears, and we must go to work without farther loss of time."

Sir Walter Stewart having disguised himself, and his son Charley, in broad slouched hats and cloaks, they sallied forth together. At the head of the close, they found two hacknies in the High Street, held by a single groom. They leaped into their saddles, and, without any inquiry or explanation as to whither they were bound, they rode forth together, at a gentle pace, from the southern part of the city, as if they had been bent more upon pleasure than business. They had not gone farther in that direction than just beyond the Burgh Loch, a piece of water which then occupied that extent of flat low ground now known by the name of The Meadows, when Sir Walter turned his horse's head to the westward, and, spurring forward, he and Charley galloped together through the woodland, the groves, and the thickets, which partially covered the Burgh Muir, and gradually sweeping round at a point considerably to the westward of the Castle rock, they then pushed forward at a furious pace in a northerly direction, making straight for that part of the shore of the Firth of Forth, lying immediately to the westward of the citadel of Leith. That which is now a continuous town, was then almost a wilderness of sandy hillocks, which stretched considerably farther into the sea than the land now does, its waters having since much encroached on that part of the coast during the lapse of ages. Taking up a position on a bare elevated spot, Sir Walter looked with anxious eyes towards the road-stead. There were but few vessels there; but one seemed to be slowly coming up to her anchorage, with a fair breeze from the east, but with her sails so curtailed as betokened caution in those on board. Sir Walter seemed to eye her with peculiar interest for some time, and then he addressed a rough red-faced pilot, who was standing below on the beach, beside his boat, watching the vessel stedfastly, as if he wished to make out what sort of craft she might be.

"Is not that a foreign barque, friend?" demanded Sir Walter.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the pilot; "she is a furrenner. If I'm not far mista'en it's the Garron of Burdy, Captain Davy Trummel, with wine aboard. I think I kenn her rig--and a clever rig it is, let me tell ye."

"She seems a goodly sea-boat, well fitted to fly quickly over so long a voyage," replied Sir Walter carelessly.

"That she is, I'll be sworn sir," answered the pilot. "Few in the trade can match her, I promise ye. But what strange mortals them French Munseers are after all: why they should call a vessel a Garron, the which is the swiftest bit of a craft my eyes ever came across, I can't nowise reasonably comprehend, unless it be out of a mere spirit of contradiction. But I must call out the lads, and be off to her, for there's the signal flying for me."

"Thou shalt take me aboard with thee, and have something for thy guerdon," said Sir Walter. "I would taste this Frenchman's wines, ere the palates of the good Burghers become acquainted with them."

"Willingly will I do thy pleasure, sir," replied the man; and, running towards a solitary cottage which stood upon a bank hard by, he began shouting out, "Jemmy!" and "Harry!" till two lads, who were his sons and assistants, appeared.

"Thou must tarry here with the horses, till I return from on board, Charles," said Sir Walter. "This is the very vessel I looked for--the Garonne of Bordeaux, Captain De Tremouille. He is an old friend of mine, and I would fain have some talk with him."

Sir Walter was speedily rowed on board by the pilot and his two sons. The barque took up her proper ground, under the directions which the helmsman received from the experienced old sailor. The anchor was let go, and she swung round to her moorings. Charley Stewart passed a considerable time in walking the horses about ere he saw the boat leave the barque. At length he beheld it pulling towards the shore, and Sir Walter again joined him, bearing two large bundles, which were stowed away behind their saddles, in such a manner as to be covered by their cloaks as they rode, and following the same circuitous route which they had taken in their way out, they returned to the city, and regained the Knight's lodgings without observation.

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.

Clifford.--Stop one moment, Serjeant. See how the rain has made its way through the chinks of the window, and deluged the floor.

Serjeant.--Mercy on me, so it has, sir! Well, I'm sure it's no wonder. Such a blast as that which is rairding without, would drive it through a stone wall.

Grant.--Call the girl from the kitchen, like a good man.

Serjeant.--Here, lassie!--We're like to be all drowned at this end of the house. Bring some cloths, will ye, and dish-clouts, and dry up this deluge here.

Lassie.--Keep us a', siccana sight! But we're no one hair better in the other end o' the house.

Clifford.--Aye, that's a good girl. Now lay some of these cloths along the window here. Aye, that will do. I think that ought to make us water-tight. Now, heap some more wood and peats on the fire before you go. Thank ye--that's glorious. Now, let the storm howl as it likes.

Grant.--Do go on with your story, Serjeant. You were interrupted in a most interesting part of it.

Clifford.--"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!"--I beg your pardon, Sergeant; pray proceed.

Author.--Aye, pray do proceed. I am anxious to know what Sir Walter Stewart's plans are, and how he succeeded in carrying them into effect. This part of the history is well known; but the minuter details are nowhere told in any book I am acquainted with, and I am curious to hear them.

Serjeant--(taking a long draught from his punch-jug.)--You shall be satisfied immediately, sir.

THE LEGEND OF CHARLEY STEWART TÀILLEAR-CRUBACH CONTINUED.

Soon after his return home, from his visit to the barque Garonne, Sir Walter Stewart got rid of his disguise, put on a courtier's attire, and hastened to the Castle, to pay his usual attendance of ceremony on the King. This he made a point of never neglecting, notwithstanding the marked curtailment which his private, and more familiar intercourse with his Majesty had received. Whilst within the walls of the fortress, he contrived, quietly and without suspicion, to make himself master of the state of the roster of the officers of the royal guard. To his no small satisfaction, he discovered that the captain of the guard, for the next day, was to be a certain individual of the name of Strang, whom he knew to be a worthless, reckless, hard-drinking, gaming fellow. He then made all the observations that circumstances permitted, and, pleased with the information he had acquired, he returned to his lodging, in order fully to acquaint Charley with it, as well as with the whole of his plans, and with the manner in which he proposed to carry them into execution, so as to make him perfectly comprehend the part which he intended that he should play in them. To lull all after surmise regarding himself, as much as possible, he that evening appeared in the apartments of Sir William Rogers, and bore his share in the performance of the music that was given there. He then kept his appointment with the Earl of Huntly, in order to tell him that all was prepared, and, after a hasty interview, shortened by their apprehensions of being detected together, a circumstance which might have been ruinous to their projects, Sir Walter retired to his lodging for the night.

Some little time after guard-mounting, next morning, the bundles which they had brought from the French vessel were opened, and the Knight, and his son, proceeded to disguise themselves, by putting on the attire of French sailors, which they contained; and so perfectly did Sir Walter succeed in this operation, that his most intimate friend could not have known him. Wrapped up in cloaks, they then took their stand within the dark threshold of a deep doorway, that opened from the obscure entrance of the close where Sir Walter lodged. This was a position from which they could see every one who passed up or down the High Street, without a chance of their being themselves seen.

They had not stood long there, until their ears caught the distant, but unceasing jabber of the French tongue, coming up the High Street. It came from half a-dozen or more voices at once, all being talkers and none listeners. The noise grew louder and louder, until Sir Walter, by stretching out his neck from his lurking-place, espied the captain or skipper of the French barque, approaching with some eight or ten of his crew. They came walking along close to the houses on his side of the way. They carried two small casks of wine, each of them slung on a pole between two men, who were changed from time to time as they required relief, whilst another man carried a little runlet on his shoulders. Sir Walter gave a particular whistle, and in a moment the whole party turned in under the covered entrance of the close, and laid down their burdens as if to rest themselves. In an instant, Sir Walter and Charley Stewart threw off their cloaks, and transferred them to two of the French sailors, who immediately retired into the Knight's lodgings, whilst he and his son succeeded to the burdens they had carried. Having effected this change, Sir Walter held some private talk with Captain De Tremouille, after which the party moved on up the street, and so up the Castle-Hill, until they came to the castle gate. There the French skipper, in broken English, told the sentinel that he would fain speak a word to the captain of the guard, for whom he was the bearer of a small present of wine, and he and his whole party were speedily admitted.

"I do ave von leetil praisaint of vine for you, sare," said the skipper, boldly addressing the scarlet-visaged captain of the guard. "Dis leetil cask for your own taste.--De richest vine in de varld."

"Thou art an especial good fellow, sir," replied the captain, clumsily returning the exquisite bow which the Frenchman had made him, whilst, at the same time, he eyed the runlet, and immediately consigned it to the particular care of one of his own people. "Nothing could possibly come more opportunely, and I am most grateful for thy courtesy. It must be confessed that you Frenchmen are the most perfect gentlemen in the world, and know how to do a thing genteelly."

"Ah, sare, dat is too mosh compliment for me as van Frainchman," replied the skipper, with a smile and a bow yet lower than his former one. "And de compliment is more bettaire dat she come from van so grait hero as de Capitaine Strang! Admirasion for de fame of him, did make me ave de grait desire to honnaire myself wid praisant him vid dis leetil gift, for vitch liberty I do hope he is not offend."

"Offended, my dear fellow!" cried Captain Strang; "thy runlet comes to me as welcome as the very flowers in May! But how the pest dost thou chance to know my name, Sir Skipper?"

"De name and de fame of de grat hero, is alvaise know by all men all over de varld," replied the skipper, with another most obsequious reverence.

"By St. Andrew, but this is a curious marvel though," said the captain. "Who would have thought that my name could have been known in France as a hero! Yet certain it is that I have done some small deeds in my time, that these French mooshies may have heard of."

"Deeds, Monsieur le Capitaine!" cried De Tremouille, with feigned astonishment; "Vondaires in battaile! meeracailes in de feelde! van Achille of Scotlande! But all dat is nossing at all compare to de fame of Monsieur le Capitaine for his vonderful taste for de good vine! Ven dey do talk of good vine in France, dey do alvaise say--Aha! dis is vine fit for de pallait of van Empereur; bot dis 'ere is more bettaire, dis is fit for de pallait of de famous Scottish hero, de Capitaine Strang, dat do know good vine more bettaire dan any oder man in de varld."

"By all the saints, that is wonderful!" said the captain; "and yet that I can more easily understand. Yes, yes; few people can match me there. And then, to be sure, these wine-dealers in France must know some little of those who are judges of the good stuff, and who, moreover, like myself, do so much to encourage their trade. But hark ye, Mr. Skipper! what do ye with those other two casks which those fellows of thine are carrying?"

"Ah hah! dat is von praisant pour de Duc d'Albanie," replied the skipper.

"Ha!" cried the captain of the guard, with a certain air of suspicion; "the Duke of Albany, saidst thou? How comest thou to have a present for the Duke of Albany?"

"Oh yaes, sare!" replied the imperturbable skipper, with great apparent innocence, "de vine is von cadeau, vat you do call praisant from de marchand at Bordeaux, vid de expectation dat de squisite taste of him may make mi Lor Duc to ave mor of him pour de l'argent, and prevail on de Royal King, his broder, to ave some too also."

"Um--aye," said the captain of the guard, with hesitation; "likely story enough--though there be but little chance of the King drinking ought of the Duke's providing, whatever liquor the Duke may by and bye drink of his Majesty's brewing. But 'twas natural enow in the merchant to think so, Mooshie. As for the Duke, he is no bad customer to his own fist, when he is well set with a jolly boon companion, such as myself for instance. So thou mayest as well leave thy twin-casks in my charge, friend; and I shall see that they are properly delivered.--At least," added he, in an under voice, aside, "I shall take care most conscientiously to deliver them in due time of their contents."

"Tank you--very mosh tank you, sare," replied the skipper. "Mais I not trobil you. De marchand did ordaire me to see dem in de royal hand of de Duc heemself. If I not do dat, I most take heem back again. Jean! François! il faut----"

"Um!--don't be so hasty, man," interrupted the captain of the guard, by no means willing to lose sight of the casks, and hesitating, and cogitating within himself, that if the wine was taken back, he would lose all chance of tasting it; whereas, if it was once lodged with the Duke, he had a fair prospect of being invited to share in it. "You Mooshies are as pestilent hasty as a bit of touch paper. Thou shalt deliver the wine thyself to the Duke. Here, Laurence--the keys of the Duke's apartments! Now, Mooshie, do thou and three of thy fellows quickly shoulder the casks and follow me."

The skipper immediately took up one end of the pole that swung one of the casks, and addressing Sir Walter Stewart by the name of Jean, he called to him roughly, in French, to take up the other end. Charley Stewart and a sailor hoisted up the second cask; and so they followed the captain of the guard up to the Duke's apartments.

When the doors were opened, which gave access to the royal prisoner, they found the Duke of Albany sitting at a table in conversation with his chamberlain, his manly and somewhat stern countenance deprived of much of its wonted bloom and sunshine, from the confinement to which he had been subjected, and the melancholy anticipations which possessed his mind, though nothing had as yet been able to overpower his indomitable resolution. It was only when he arose from his chair, to ascertain what his visitors came about, that his powerful and well-proportioned person, and his broad chest, were fully exhibited.

"What is all this?" cried the Duke, somewhat impatiently.

"So please your Highness' Grace, this French Mooshie skipper is the bearer of a present of that which he states to be very choice wine of his country's growth," said Captain Strang, with a low obeisance.

"Who can have thus remembered me in my misfortunes?" demanded the Duke.

"Nay," replied Strang, "I question if either the giver of the gift, or he that hath it in charge, know ought of the position in which your Royal Highness is now placed. But stand forth, Sir Mooshie, and tell thine own tale."

"Eh bien," cried the skipper, advancing, and bowing three or four times to the ground; "Je le----"

"Hold! hold! Mooshie!" interrupted Captain Strang; "none of thine own outlandish language, dost thou hear? Thou canst speak our tongue well enow for all purposes, so keep to that, if it so please thee."

"Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine String," replied the skipper, with a shrug, and a grimace, that showed his disappointment in being thus prevented from speaking to the Duke, in a language which would have veiled all he said from the apprehension of the captain of the guard--"Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine; I vill make van attente to make onderstand de bad Englis of me to his Royal Highness de Duc d'Albanie.--I ave been send vid dis two cask of vin, as van cadeau from de marchand Beauvilliers at Bordeaux, to his Highness Royal de Duc d'Albanie, vid de ope dat de magnifique flaveur of de vine may please heem, and procure for de marchand van large ordaire from his Highness Royal, and from his royal broder, his Majesty de King."

"I can promise nothing for his Majesty, friend," replied the Duke; "but for myself, I would have ye thank Monsieur Beauvilliers from me, and say to him, that if the wine liketh me well, I shall send him an order; that is to say, if there be aught of likelihood of my being alive to drink of it when it comes to hand.--But what sort of wine is it that thou hast brought me?"

"In dat cask dere is shoise vine of Gascony," said the skipper, pointing to that which Charley Stewart had helped to bear; "bot, goot as it is, I am force to tink dat de oder vine, in dis cask, vill give more plaisir to son Altesse Royale."

"Sir," said Sir Walter, bringing forward the cask, and speaking to the skipper in French, as if he were merely applying to him for orders, but in a tone so loud and distinct as to insure that the Duke should catch every word that fell from him--"do not show surprise at what I say, or recognise me, if you discover me.--We are all friends. This cask contains the means of escape, with instructions how you are to effect it. Let not the captain of the guard depart without an invitation to supper; the contents of this cask will tell you why."

"Sacre cochon!" cried the skipper, with an angry air, and at the same time bestowing a smart blow of a rattan on the shoulders of Sir Walter. "Sacre cochon que vous estes!"

"What did the fellow say to thee, friend skipper?" demanded the captain of the guard; "and what didst thou say to him?"

"Mine Got! Monsieur le Capitaine String," replied the skipper, "dis crew of mine is so great idil vans, dat dey vear out de patience of van Job heemself. I not be come to dis place ardly van moment, and bifore I decharge my cargo, ven dey must vant to leif me alone, and to go to run all over de cite, after de dance, and de Scottis preetee lasses. Be Gar, Monsieur Jean, you sall vork more vork pour dis, dat I do tell you, mon garçon."

"Fear nothing, sir," said Sir Walter, again in French, and humbly bowing to the skipper, as if making an earnest and contrite apology to his master; "act boldly; remember the south-western side--there thou shalt find friends beyond the walls."

"Aha, Coquin!" cried the skipper; "mais vous avez joué votre role à merveille----"

"What said the fellow? and what was thine answer to him?" demanded the captain of the guard again.

"Par bleu, Monsieur le Capitaine String, I ave make heem bon garçon at last," replied the skipper; "I do ave make heem cry peccavée."

"Was that all?" said the captain, gruffly. "Then come away, Mooshie, let us clear out of this. Thou and thy fellows have been long enough here."

"Before thou goest, I would speak with thee, Captain Strang," said the Duke. "If fame and mine own experience belie thee not, thou art great in thy judgment of wines. Wilt thou lend me thy company to-night at supper, that we may taste the stuff which this fellow hath brought me, of the rare quality of which he makes so great a boast?"

"Your Royal Highness's Grace does me too much honour," replied Strang, with a most obsequious bow. "My taste is but a poor and uncultivated taste; but I shall be proud to perfect it under your Royal Highness's superior judgment and instruction."

"Then let us have supper at four, good captain," said the Duke; "and as my chamberlain here would fain invite those three poor knaves who guard the door, to watch for once within side of it, and to partake of his table, I would have thee see that, at my expense, enough of the best viands be provided for all."

"Your Highness is too considerate," replied Strang. "Yet, since your royal will runs so, it shall be obeyed to the letter. The supper shall be such as shall content you." And then retiring, and shutting and locking the door upon his prisoners, he descended the outer steps, muttering to himself,--"The supper may well be a good one indeed, and thou mayest well eat and drink thy fill; for, if I be not far mistaken, it may be the last supper thou mayest eat, and the last wine thou mayest swallow."

The skipper and his party now left the Castle, without farther question; and as they passed by the mouth of the close where Sir Walter Stewart lived, on their way down the High Street, the knight and his son were replaced by the two French sailors, in the same adroit manner in which the change had been formerly effected; and they gained their lodgings, and got rid of their disguise, without having subjected themselves to the least suspicion, whilst the skipper continued his way out of the city, with the same number of followers as he had always had with him.

No sooner was the Duke of Albany free from the chance of interruption, than he and his chamberlain proceeded to wrench up the end of that cask which Sir Walter Stewart had so ingeniously and so particularly indicated, as the important one to the royal captive. They found it altogether devoid of wine; but, to their no small joy, they found within it a long coil of rope, and a large roll of wax. Their first care was to replace the rope, and to shut up the cask again, and then to roll it into the corner, where they set it on end immediately in rear of that which contained the wine. They then hastily opened the roll of wax, and discovered that it contained a letter from Sir Walter, explaining the whole plan for their escape. Having studied this again and again, so as fully to possess themselves of its contents, they committed it to the ample fire-place, where it was immediately consumed, and then they sat down together to resolve and arrange all the minor parts and details of their plot. Whilst they were so employed, Captain Strang was unable to resist the devil that tempted him to taste his little runlet. It was excellent wine. He boldly, and with great determination, put in the spigot again, and gallantly retreated from it. But again and again was he drawn to it by an attraction as strong as that which the loadstone exerts over the needle. Again and again he drew the spigot, and sipped moderately. He would have drank deeply, had not economy whispered him that he had better preserve it for a future opportunity, seeing that he had the prospect of that night drinking so largely at another's expense. But still he sipped and sipped from time to time, so that, although far from drunk when he appeared in the Duke of Albany's apartment--nay, I may say, far from being even what is usually called half seas over--he had so whetted his thirst as to be ready to drink oceans; and the foundation he had laid was quite enough for a superstructure of perfect intoxication.

As the supper was to be partaken of by him and his people at the Duke's expense, the captain of the guard had taken especial care to see that it was a good one. His Royal Highness sat at a small table near the huge fire-place, with Captain Strang upon his left hand. There they were first served by the chamberlain, and the three men of the guard, with all the delicacies they chose to call for; and large beakers of the new wine being placed before them, the captain gave full way to his Bacchanalian inclinations. By and bye they began to play at dice and tables, whilst the chamberlain and his three guests were supping. Though already not a little affected by the wine he had swallowed, the captain preserved enough of his cunning and knavish brains, to enable him to cheat most villainously. This did not escape the Duke, but he took care not to appear to perceive it--cursed his ill luck--and went on to lose, much to the satisfaction of his opponent, whilst the knavish Strang was secretly congratulating himself upon his own wonderful strength of head, which had so far prevailed over the comparative weakness of his royal adversary. Meanwhile the chamberlain was busily employed in supplying the captain, as well as his own peculiar guests, with wine, in the greatest abundance. By degrees, Strang became so much elevated, as to lose much of that obsequious respect with which he had at first treated his royal host.

"Delicious wine!" cried he, smacking his lips, after a long draught of it, which left his cup empty. "By the holy Virgin, delicious wine indeed! But--aw--aw--its goodness inflames me--aw--aw--with a furious desire to taste--aw--aw--to taste, I say, that other cask the French knave spoke of--aw--aw--that, I mean, which stands yonder, behind--aw--aw--behind the barrel from which we have--aw--aw--been tasting; that, I mean--aw--aw--of which the French Mooshie spake so largely."

The chamberlain darted a look of agony at his master; but the Duke preserved a perfect composure.

"Thou shalt taste it forthwith, Sir Captain," said the Duke, giving, at the same time, a private signal to the chamberlain. "Go, use thy wimble, and bring us a flask of that other wine."

The chamberlain, understanding his master, went to the barrels, and concealing them as much as he could by stooping over both of them, he fumbled with the wimble at the second cask; and, whilst he pretended to fill the can from it, he slyly drew its contents from the same which had been running all night, and then he poured out two sparkling goblets, and set them down on the table.

"Well, Sir Captain," said the Duke, after Strang had taken a long draught of the wine, "what sayest thou to it? Is it as good as that which thou hast been all night drinking?"

"That which we have been drinking all night--aw--aw--is but as hog's wash compared to it," cried the captain, his eyes beginning to goggle in his head, and emphatically dashing his empty cup down on the table. "No, no--aw--aw--my palate--aw--aw--is--aw--too true to be deceived that way. This, look ye, is a wine of--aw--aw--of superior growth, flavour, and body, not to be matched--not to be--aw--aw--matched, I tell ye--not to be matched."

"It is, indeed, excellent, as thou sayest," replied the Duke--"absolute nectar!--Come, fill our goblets again."

"By the Rood, but this is--aw--aw--wine indeed!" cried the captain of the guard again, after emptying his goblet for the second time. "It grows--aw--aw--better and better--aw--aw."

"I feel it whizzing in my very brain," said the Duke. "I doubt that thou wilt have but an easy conquest of me now, Sir Captain. But come, nevertheless, play away, for I will have my revenge."

"What, ho, Sir Chamberlain," cried the captain, getting more and more inebriated, and becoming, at the same time, still more and more convinced of his own strength of brain and sobriety, and his superiority, in these respects, over the Duke, exemplified, as it was, by his still farther gains. "What ho!--aw--aw--more wine--more wine and--aw--aw--from the same cask, dost thou hear, Sir Chamberlain--aw--aw--from the self-same virtuous cask. Why the fiend did'st thou not draw from that cask--aw--aw--at first? Come, wine, I tell thee!--aw--aw--aw--pour us out more of that nectar; my throat--aw--aw--is parched, and--aw--aw--the more I drink--aw--aw--the more I would drink. Wine!--aw--aw--wine, I say, Sir Chamberlain!"

The chamberlain spared not to fill and refill his goblet, nor was he less assiduous in filling those of the three men of the guard, until overcome by the soporific effects of the oceans of wine which they poured down, combined with those arising from the overwhelming heat of the rousing fire that had been purposely kept up, an irresistible drowsiness fell upon the captain and his men, and they, one after another, dropped into a deep sleep. The Duke, and his chamberlain, now armed themselves with knives from the table, and self-preservation having steeled up their minds to this bloody alternative, they sprang upon their defenceless victims. The work of death was speedy; all were despatched in a few moments. The keys were taken from the captain's girdle-belt. The corpses were piled one over the other in the huge fire-place, and more fuel was heaped upon them, in order to consume them. The coil of rope was secured. The doors were opened with the greatest caution, and, having slipped silently down the outer stair, they stole away to a lonely corner of the rampart, on the south-western side of the fortress, where the height and precipitous nature of the rock had been supposed to have rendered sentinels unnecessary; and where, though the descent might be more dangerous in itself, than at many other points in the vicinity, there was less risk of their being surprised and frustrated in their attempt.

At the foot of the Castle rock, under that part of the walls which I have now indicated, Sir Walter Stewart, and his son Charles, had been waiting impatiently ever since the day-light had disappeared. The night was starry, but there was little moon. That they might the better observe the walls, they climbed up the steep rock, immediately below the point where they knew that the attempt was likely to be made, till they came to the perpendicular part of the cliff, under the base of which they silently lay down to watch the event. After long and tedious expectation, during which they were often deceived by their fancy, they at length perceived a dark looking object getting over the top of the wall of the rampart, directly above them. They watched it with intense anxiety, as it began slowly to descend on them, till, as it neared them, they could distinguish it to be a human being, and the figure slowly grew upon their sight. The head and shoulders of another man thrust over the wall above, seemed anxiously to watch the success of him who was lowering himself. For a moment the descending figure rested on the narrow ledge of the rock at the foundation of the wall, and then it again began to come down gently over the perpendicular face of the cliff, until it was within some ten or fifteen feet of them. Their hope was now high, when all at once the figure seemed to be arrested in its progress downward, and swung to and fro for a time.

"What stops you?" demanded Sir Walter Stewart, in a distinct but subdued voice.

"If this be all the rope, it is too short," said the person above them, in the same tone; "I have nothing now for it, but to take my chance and drop."

"Fear not!" said Sir Walter; "we shall try to catch thee in our cloaks. Now! drop boldly!"

"Now then!" said the man in the air.

But although the united strength of Sir Walter Stewart and his son enabled them so to receive him, as to save him from utter destruction, the shock of his fall was so great, as to crush both of them down, and it was with difficulty that they prevented him and themselves from rolling down the rocky slope below them.

"How fares it with thee?" demanded Sir Walter.

"But indifferent well," replied the other, unable to rise, and manifestly in great pain. "I fear I have broken my thigh-bone."

"Holy Saint Andrew, what a misfortune!" exclaimed Sir Walter Stewart.

"Call it not a misfortune," said the attached and devoted chamberlain. "It was good that I tried it before the Duke, else might this accident have happened to him, and that indeed would have been a misfortune."

"What hath happened?" demanded a faint voice, that came from the Duke, whose head and shoulders still appeared over the wall above.

"A small accident, but not a fatal one," replied the chamberlain. "I am down; but beware, my gracious master, the rope is too short."

"How much may it want?" demanded the Duke.

"About four or five ells, or so;" replied Sir Walter.

"Tarry till I return then," said the Duke again. "But, hush! I must hide. Here come the rounds."

The tramp of feet, and the clink of arms, now came faintly on their ears, as they lay, drawn in as much as possible, under the rock. Voices, too, were heard, but at such a distance above them, that they could not tell whether they uttered sounds of jocularity, or of strife and contention. At last they passed away--but whether the royal duke had been detected or not, they had no means of knowing. A very considerable time elapsed, during which their eyes were fixed intently, and most anxiously, on that part of the top of the wall whence the head of the royal captive had last been seen to disappear. The pain of the chamberlain's fractured limb was excruciating, yet to him it was as nothing, compared to the agony of that suspense which was suffered by the whole three who waited for the result. At length, to their inexpressible relief, they beheld the Duke's figure getting over the wall above them,--and down he came, slowly and gradually, till his toes touched the rocky ground on which they stood. Warm, though not loud, were the congratulations he received, and heartfelt were the thanks which he poured out upon his preservers--and deep was the grief which he uttered for the painful accident which had befallen his faithful servant. They learned from his Highness, that ere the rounds had approached near enough to observe him, he had laid himself down at length on the ground, within the deep shadow that prevailed under the wall; that they had passed within a few yards of him, talking and joking with each other, and most fortunately without observing him. They were no sooner fairly gone to the other parts of the walls, than he had stolen back to his prison, cut his blankets into ropes, and by this means supplied what was wanting of the length of that which had been furnished to him.

Altogether unmindful of his own safety, the Duke of Albany's first desire was to provide for the proper care of his maimed chamberlain. It was with no small difficulty that they got him conveyed down the craggy slope, and when they reached the valley below, they halted, and held a consultation as to what was best to be done with him. The chamberlain himself proposed that they should carry him to the house of a friend of his own, near at hand, where he knew he would be concealed, and well cared for, and where he thought he could remain in safety until his broken limb should be so effectually cured as to enable him to make his escape.

"I will carry thee thither myself," said the Duke of Albany. "I can by no means flee hence, until I am assured of the safety of a servant, who hath ever been so devotedly faithful to me, and who is now, by the perversity of my fate, to be so painfully separated from me, when I most need his friendship."

"Nay, I do entreat your Royal Highness to flee without a moment's delay," said Sir Walter Stewart; "every moment is precious to you. Leave him to me, and, trust me, I will take every care of him."

"Nay, I cannot consent to that," said the Duke. "Thou must not be seen nor suspected to have had aught to do in this matter. Thou hast already periled thyself enough. The house he speaks of is but a little farther along this hollow way, I will carry him thither myself."

Sir Walter yielded to reason. They assisted the Duke to carry the chamberlain to a conveniently short distance from the house in question, the sufferer was then hoisted on his royal master's back, who speedily bore him safely into his place of concealment.

"Now," said Sir Walter to the Duke, when he had again joined them, a little way on beyond the house, "your Royal Highness must fly with all haste to the sea-side. This young man, who is a son of mine, will guide you to the spot where you will find a boat, which is ready waiting to convey you to the vessel that is prepared to carry you to France. He must supply the loss of your faithful chamberlain. Take him with you, my lord, and let him return to me when it may suit your convenience to part with him."

"He shall be mine especial esquire," said the Duke.--"Would I had a station to put him into, worthier of son of thine, and of one of his own apparent merits."

"Your Royal Highness is too kind," said Sir Walter. "Yet is the lad no disgrace to me, as I trust that you may find that he will prove none to you. May Saint Andrew give you safety and a prosperous breeze!--And here, Charley, take this ring as a pledge of a father's affection, and let the sight of it be ever to thee as a monitor to make thee do thy duty like a man."

Their parting was now warm, but brief. The Duke and his new attendant reached the sea-side in safety. Sir Walter, who had hastened around the shores of the North Loch, and climbed the Calton Hill, waited impatiently upon its summit till the first dawn of day-break. Then it was that he rejoiced to descry the white sail of the French barque, swoln by a merry and favourable breeze, pressing gallantly down the Firth, and he continued to watch it, until it was lost amidst the ruddy haze of the sunrise. He then walked slowly down the eastern slope of the hill, towards Holyrood, and, making a wide circuit, he passed between Arthur Seat and Salisbury Craigs, through the hollow wooded valley, which, though now devoid of trees, is still well known by the name of the Hunter's Bog, and then, turning his steps towards the southern gates of the city, he muffled himself well up in his cloak, and entered it, unnoticed, amid the crowds of market people who were passing inwards at the Port of the Kirk of Field; and so he gained his lodging without observation. There he soon afterwards heard of the astonishment, mortification, and dismay, which had possessed the King on learning this strange event, which he could not bring himself to believe until he went to see, with his own eyes, the half-consumed corpses of the captain of the guard and his men, and the rope which still hung dangling over the wall of the castle.

Sir Walter Stewart seemed to remain altogether unsuspected of any share in the escape of the Duke of Albany, though every one was agreed in believing that his Royal Highness must have been aided from without the walls. But whether it was that ideal suspicion that conscience of itself begets, or whether there really were some grounds for it, the Knight could not help feeling persuaded that the King looked colder than ever upon him. He failed not, however, on that account, to pay his duties at court most unremittingly, though, frequent as were his visits there, they were comparatively small in number to those which he paid to the house of Sir William Rogers, where he now worshipped, more fervently than ever, at the shrine of that enchantress, the fair Juliet Manvers. He now found himself so irretrievably the captive of her charms, that he had for some time ceased to struggle in her net, and it was not long after the escape of Albany, that he sought an audience of King James, that he might humbly communicate his contemplated nuptials to him, and crave his royal leave for their consummation, as well as for his retirement for a time from court, that he might carry his lady to visit his own territories in Stradawn, of which he was to make her the mistress. From all that had lately passed, he was not much surprised that the King received his communication with apparent satisfaction, but he was very much astonished to find, that it procured for him the sudden and unexpected restoration of all that familiar cordiality of manner, which he had formerly, for so long a period, been in the constant habit of receiving from his Majesty.

"What!--marry!" cried the King. "And is this really so?--and a long attachment saidst thou?"

"An attachment that has grown since first we met, so please your gracious Majesty," replied Sir Walter.

"Strange!" said the King, as if pondering within himself--"strange that all this should have escaped me. And yet, now I think on't, I might have seen it.--We have done thee but scrimp justice, Sir Walter Stewart, but now, be assured, that we wish thee joy with all our heart. Thou hast indeed chosen a lovely bride. We--yea, and our Queen too--shall honour the wedding with our presence; and thy fair and accomplished lady shall not lack such royal gifts, as may befit us to bestow, and thy wife to receive.--Trust me, that this wise step of thine hath much relieved--nay, we would say that it hath given us unfeigned joy."

Thus reassured of the King's favour, though from what cause he could not by any means divine, Sir Walter Stewart was happy. His marriage took place with great pomp of circumstances, in presence of King James and his Queen. Some months passed quickly and pleasantly away over the heads of the newly-married couple, who were especially detained at court, from one week to another, by the royal mandate,--and I need not tell you, that the lady basked with peculiar delight under the sunshiny smiles that fell upon her from the royal pair. Cochran was the only one about court who had reason to be dissatisfied with the match, seeing that he had himself shewn pretensions to Juliet Manvers, and had been in no little degree encouraged by her. But whether real or feigned, he manifested an especial cordiality towards Sir Walter, and he availed himself of every possible opportunity of frequenting his society, and that of his lady. To the lady, indeed, he was at all times most particularly attentive, so much so, in fact, that Sir Walter hardly relished his uncalled for complaisance. Moreover, he thought he began to detect a certain relaxation of that earnest desire to please him, which, for her own purposes, Juliet had so long displayed towards him before their union. She had now less occasion for dissimulation, since her object was gained, and so it happened, that on more occasions than one, when impelled by the humour of the moment beyond the full restraint of her dissimulative powers, she had unveiled enough of her real character to make him doubt, whether her acceptance of him as her husband had been altogether the result of a disinterested affection for him. The seeds of unhappiness were thus thickly sown within his breast, and they began to vegetate so fast, that he at length came to the sudden resolution of carrying off his wife to his castle of Drummin.

"If thou art resolved to quit our court for a season," said King James, when Sir Walter made his intentions known to his Majesty, "thou hast our royal permission, most unwillingly granted to thee, so to do. But say, what sort of habitation hast thou in the north?"

"'Tis but a rude dwelling, so please your Majesty," replied Sir Walter; "and somewhat the worse perhaps for the warfare which hath been waged against it by time and weather."

"Then shalt thou take Cochran, our architect, thither with thee, to plan and to order its amendment," replied the King.--"'Twas but the other day we were talking of thy concerns together, when he voluntarily offered to yield thee his best services."

"'Twas kind of him," said Sir Walter, biting his lips, "but I can in nowise think of so troubling him.--Indeed, for the present, I cannot well brook the expense of building, and I must e'en remain as I am for a time."

"That shall be no hindrance to thee, Stewart," said the King. "The stream of our royal bounty hath been untowardly diverted from thee for a time; it behooves us now to refresh thy parched roots, so that thou mayest again raise thy drooping head. The means shall be found from our royal treasury for thy building, and Cochran shall go with thee to Drummin--so let us think no more of this matter, seeing I have so settled it."

Willingly would Sir Walter Stewart have dispensed with this most prominent mark of royal favour, but it was now impossible to decline it. Cochran received his Majesty's command, to hold himself in readiness to accompany Sir Walter Stewart and his lady to Stradawn, with secret delight, though he appeared to do so with that servile submission merely, with which he always bowed to the royal will, and for which he made himself ample amends by the arrogance with which he domineered over others. To Sir Walter Stewart he took especial care to be always smiling, pleasant, and accommodating; and although he complained, upon this occasion, that this northern journey was a severe obstruction to the prosecution of those architectural plans on which he pretended to rest his fame, he went down to Drummin with the intention of spinning out his visit to as great a length as he could decently make it extend.