The Three Perils of Man: War, Women, and Witchcraft (Vol.1-3). James HoggЧитать онлайн книгу.
exempt from the sway of an overpowering superstition.
CHAPTER X.
What a brave group we have! That fellow there,
He with the cushion, would outprate the cricket;
The babble of the brook is not more constant,
Or syllabled with such monotony,
Than the eternal tingle of his tongue.
Cor. I'll bid him silence, master; Or do him so, which likes you.
The Prioress.
We must now leave the two commanders in plights more dismal than ever commanders were before, and return to our warden, the bold baron of Mountcomyn, whose feats form a more pleasant and diverting subject. His warfare all this while was of a predatory nature—for that his warriors were peculiarly fitted, and at this time they did not fail to avail themselves well of the troubles on the border, and the prevailing power of the Scots alongst its line. The warden pretended still to be acting in concert with Douglas, but his operations were all according to the purposes of his own heart. He cared nothing for the success or the aggrandisement of Douglas; but he had a particular eye to the advancement of his own house, and the honour of his kinsmen. It was therefore a matter of daily consultation with him and his friends, how they should act in conformity with this ruling principle. The probability was against Douglas, that he would ultimately fail in his undertaking, and be stripped of all his dominions. Viewing the matter in that light, it was high time for the Redhough to be providing for himself. On the other hand, should Douglas succeed in his enterprize, and become the king's son-in-law, there was no other way by which the warden could hold his own, save by a certain species of subordination, a submission in effect, though not by acknowledgment. Such matters were perfectly understood by the chiefs in these times, and all who proved refractory were taught in silence to feel the grounds on which they stood, This was, therefore, a most critical period for Sir Ringan. The future advancement of his house depended on every turn of his hand. During all the former part of the siege he had conducted himself with an eye to Douglas' failure, to which he was partly incited by the prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer, and those of his kinsman, Master Michael Scott of Oakwood, whom he believed the most powerful wizard, and the greatest prophet, that ever had arisen since the Rhymer's days.
But, on the return of Charlie of Yardbire and Dan Chisholm from the beleaguering army, the warden got the extraordinary intelligence, that the Lady Jane Howard had fallen into the hands of the Douglas, as well as Musgrave's only brother. These things changed Sir Ringan's prospects of the future in a very material degree, and he pondered on changing his mode of operations. Before doing so, however, he called a council of his kinsmen, and brought the matter again before them. Most of them counselled the continuance of the predatory warfare in which they had been engaged; it had served to enrich them, and had proved, as they reasoned, of more service to the Douglas than if they had joined his host. That it proved of more service to himself and his kinsmen than if they had joined the host, the warden was well aware; but he was not satisfied that the Douglas viewed their mountain warfare as of great consequence to him; and he farther knew, that services were always repaid, not according to the toil and exertion undergone, but according as they were estimated, while that estimation was ever and anon modelled by the apparent motives of the performer.
After much slow and inanimate reasoning on the matter, Sir Ringan chanced, after a minute's deep thought, to say, "What would I not give to know the events that are to happen at Roxburgh between this time and the end of the Christmas holidays?"
"Auld Michael Scott will ken brawly," said Charlie of Yardbire.
"Then, what for shoudna we ken too?" said the knight.
"Aye, what for shoudna we ken too?" said Dickie o' Dryhope.
"They might get a kittle cast that meddled wi' him, an' nae the wiser after a'," said Robert of Howpasley.
"When he was at pains to come a' the way to the castle of Mountcomyn," said Simon Longspeare, "a matter o' five Scots miles ower the moor, to warn our captain, the warden, how to row his bowls, he surely winna refuse to tell him what's to be the final issue o' this daft contest."
"Ane wad think he wadna spare a cantrip or twa," said Sir Ringan; "him that has spirits at his ca', an' canna get them hadden i' wark. It wad be an easy matter for him; an' blood's aye thicker than water."
"Ay, that's a true tale," said Dickie o' Dryhope; "It wad be an easy matter for him, we a' ken that; an' blood's aye thicker than water!"
"If I were to gang wi' a gallant retinue," said Sir Ringan, "he surely wadna refuse to gie me some answer."
"He wad refuse the king o' France," said Robert of Howpasley, "if he warna i' the key for human conversation, an' maybe gar his familiar spirits carry you away, and thraw ye into the sea, or set you down i' some faraway land, for a piece o' employment to them, and amusement to himsel'. He has served mony ane that gate afore now."
"Od I'll defy him," said muckle Charlie of Yardbire. "If my master, the warden, likes to tak me wi' him for his elbowman, I'll answer for him against a' the monkey spirits that auld Michael has."
"Spoke like yourself, honest Charlie!" said the baron; "and if it is judged meet by my friends that I should go, you shall be one that shall attend me. Certes, it would be of incalculable benefit to me, for all your sakes, to know even by a small hint what is to be the upshot of this business—But should I be taken away or detained—"
"Ay, should he be taken away or detained, gentlemen: think of that, gentlemen," said Dickie o' Dryhope.
"I approve highly of the mission," said Simon Longspeare; "for I believe there is nothing too hard for that old wizard to do, and no event so closely sealed up in futurity, but that he can calculate with a good deal of certainty on the issue. I see that our all depends on our knowledge of the event; but I disapprove of our chief attending on the wizard in person—for in his absence who is to be our commander? And, should any sudden rising of our foes take place, of which we are every hour uncertain, we may lose more by the want of him one hour than we could ever regain."
"Ay, think of that, gentlemen," said Dickie: "My cousin Longspeare speaks good sense. What could we do wanting Sir Ringan. We're all children to him, and little better without him."
"And old children are the worst of all children," said the warden; "I would rather be deaved with the teething yammer than the toothless chatter. Prithee, peace, and let us hear out our cousin Simon's proposal."
The circle of the gallant kinsmen did not like ill to hear this snub on old Dickie. They could not account for the chief's partiality to him; and they were even afraid that, being the oldest man, he should be nominated to the command in the knight's absence. It was however noted by all, that Dickie was not half so great a man in field or foray as he was at board in the castle of Mountcomyn. Only a very few men of experience discerned the bottom of this. The truth was, that Sir Ringan did not care a doit either for Dickie's counsels or his arm, but he saw that his lady abhorred him, and therefore he would not yield to cast him off. His lady was of a high spirit and proud unyielding temper, and the knight could not stand his own with her at all times and seasons; but before his kinsmen warriors he was particularly jealous of his dignity, and would not yield to the encroachment on it of a single item. It was by this kind of elemental opposition, if it may be so termed, that Dickie maintained his consequence at the warden's castle. In the field he was nothing more than a foolish vain old kinsman.
"I propose," said Longspeare," that we send a deputation of our notable men to the warlock, of whom we have some of the first that perhaps ever the world produced. As a bard, or minstrel, we can send Colley Carol, a man that is fit to charm the spirits out of the heart of the earth, or the bowels of the cloud, without the aid of old Michael. As a man of crabbed wit and endless absurdity, we can send the Deil's Tam: As a true natural and moral philosopher, the Laird o' the Peatstacknowe: As one versed in all the mysteries of religion,