Red Cap Tales Part 9

"Listen," said the Chief, "here are the facts, and you can judge for yourself. Last night I could not sleep for thinking on the downfall of all my hopes for the cause, for the Prince, for the clan--so, after lying long awake, I stepped out into the frosty air. I had crossed a small foot-bridge, and was walking backward and forward, when I saw, clear before me in the moonlight, a tall man wrapped in a grey plaid, such as the shepherds wear. The figure kept regularly about four yards from me."

"That is an easy riddle," exclaimed Edward; "why, my dear Fergus, what you saw was no more than a c.u.mberland peasant in his ordinary dress!"

"So I thought at first," answered Fergus, "and I was astonished at the man's audacity in daring to dog me. I called to him, but got no answer.

I felt my heart beating quickly, and to find out what I was afraid of, I turned and faced first north, and then south, east, and west. Each way I turned, I saw the grey figure before my eyes at precisely the same distance! Then I knew I had seen the Bodach Glas. My hair stood up, and so strong an impression of awe came upon me that I resolved to return to my quarters. As I went, the spirit glided steadily before me, till we came to the narrow bridge, where it turned and stood waiting for me. I could not wade the stream. I could not bring myself to turn back. So, making the sign of the cross, I drew my sword and cried aloud, 'In the name of G.o.d, Evil Spirit, give place!'

"'_Vich Ian Vohr_,' it said in a dreadful voice, '_beware of to-morrow!_'

"It was then within half a yard of my sword's point, but as the words were uttered it was gone. There was nothing either on the bridge or on the way home. All is over. I am doomed. I have seen the Bodach Glas, the curse of my house."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE spirit glided steadily before me, till we came to the narrow bridge, where it turned and stood waiting for me. I could not wade the stream. I could not bring myself to turn back. So, making the sign of the cross, I drew my sword and cried aloud, 'In the name of G.o.d, Evil Spirit, give place!'

"'_Vich Ian Vohr_,' it said in a dreadful voice, '_beware of to-morrow!_'"]

Edward could think of nothing to say in reply. His friend's belief in the reality of the vision was too strong. He could only ask to be allowed to march once more with the sons of Ivor, who occupied the post of danger in the rear. Edward easily obtained the Baron's leave to do so, and when the Clan Mac-Ivor entered the village, he joined them, once more arm in arm with their Chieftain. At the sight, all the Mac-Ivors'

ill feeling was blown away in a moment. Evan Dhu received him with a grin of pleasure. And the imp Callum, with a great patch on his head, appeared particularly delighted to see him.

But Waverley's stay with the Clan Ivor was not to be long. The enemy was continually hara.s.sing their flanks, and the rear-guard had to keep lining hedges and dikes in order to beat them off. Night was already falling on the day which Fergus had foretold would be his last, when in a chance skirmish of outposts the Chief with a few followers found himself surrounded by a strong attacking force of dragoons. A swift eddy of the battle threw Edward out to one side. The cloud of night lifted, and he saw Evan Dhu and a few others, with the Chieftain in their midst, desperately defending themselves against a large number of dragoons who were hewing at them with their swords. It was quite impossible for Waverley to break through to their a.s.sistance. Night shut down immediately, and he found it was equally impossible for him to rejoin the retreating Highlanders, whose warpipes he could still hear in the distance.

INTERLUDE OF BREVITY

The _Bodach Glas_ held the children. The brilliant sunshine of the High Garden in which they had listened to the tale became instantly palest moonlight, and between them and the strawberry bed they saw the filmy plaid of the Grey Spectre of the House of Ivor. It had been helpful and even laudable to play-act the chief scenes when the story was beginning, but now they had no time. It would have been an insult to the interest of the narrative.

Doubtless, if they had had the book, they would have _skipped_, to know "how it all ended." But it was time for the evening walk. So, instead of stringing themselves out along the way as was their custom, seeing if the raspberry bushes had grown any taller since the morning, the four collected in a close swarm about the tale-teller, like bees about an emigrant queen.

"You must tell us the rest--you _must!_" they said, linking arms about my waist to prevent any attempt at an evasion of such just demands.

So, being secretly no little pleased with their eagerness, I launched out upon the conclusion of the whole matter--which showed, among other things, how Waverley-Honour was more honoured than ever and the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine threefold blessed.

THE LAST TALE FROM "WAVERLEY"

THE BARON'S SURPRISE

AFTER wandering about for some time Edward came unexpectedly upon a hamlet. Lights gleamed down the street, and Edward could hear loud voices and the tramp of horses. The sound of shouted orders and soldiers' oaths soon told him that he was in great danger. For these were English troops, and if they caught him in his Mac-Ivor tartan, would a.s.suredly give him short shrift and a swift bullet.

Lingering a moment uncertainly near the gate of a small garden enclosure, he felt himself caught by gentle hands and drawn toward a house.

"Come, Ned," said a low voice, "the dragoons are down the village, and they will do thee a mischief. Come with me into feyther's!"

Judging this to be very much to the purpose, Edward followed, but when the girl saw the tall figure in tartans instead of the sweetheart she had expected, she dropped the candle she had lighted, and called out for her father.

A stout Westmoreland peasant at once appeared, poker in hand, and presently Edward found himself not ill received--by the daughter on account of a likeness to her lover (so she said) and by the father because of a certain weakness for the losing side. So, in the house of Farmer Jopson, Edward slept soundly that night, in spite of the dangers which surrounded him on every side. In the morning the true Edward, whose name turned out to be Ned Williams, was called in to consult with father and daughter. It seemed impossible for Edward to go north to rejoin the Prince's forces. They had evacuated Penrith and marched away toward Carlisle. The whole intervening country was covered by scouting parties of government hors.e.m.e.n. Whereupon Ned Williams, who wished above all things to rid the house of his handsome namesake, lest his sweetheart Cicely should make other mistakes, offered to get Waverley a change of clothes, and to conduct him to his father's farm near Ulswater. Neither old Jopson nor his daughter would accept a farthing of money for saving Waverley's life. A hearty handshake paid one; a kiss, the other. And so it was not long before Ned Williams was introducing our hero to his family, in the character of a young clergyman who was detained in the north by the unsettled state of the country.

On their way into c.u.mberland they pa.s.sed the field of battle where Edward had lost sight of Fergus. Many bodies still lay upon the face of the moorland, but that of Vich Ian Vohr was not among them, and Edward pa.s.sed on with some hope that in spite of the _Bodach Glas_, Fergus might have escaped his doom. They found Callum Beg, however, his tough skull cloven at last by a dragoon's sword, but there was no sign either of Evan or of his Chieftain.

In the secure shelter of good Farmer Williams's house among the hills, it was Edward's lot to remain somewhat longer than he intended. In the first place, it was wholly impossible to move for ten days, owing to a great fall of snow. Then he heard how that the Prince had retreated farther into Scotland, how Carlisle had been besieged and taken by the English, and that the whole north was covered by the hosts of the Duke of c.u.mberland and General Wade.

But in the month of January it happened that the clergyman who came to perform the ceremony at the wedding of Ned Williams and Cicely Jopson, brought with him a newspaper which he showed to Edward. In it Waverley read with astonishment a notice of his father's death in London, and of the approaching trial of Sir Everard for high treason--unless (said the report) Edward Waverley, son of the late Richard Waverley, and heir to the baronet, should in the meantime surrender himself to justice.

It was with an aching anxious heart that Waverley set out by the northern diligence for London. He found himself in the vehicle opposite to an officer's wife, one Mrs. Nosebag, who tormented him all the way with questions, on several occasions almost finding him out, and once at least narrowly escaping giving him an introduction to a recruiting sergeant of his own regiment.

However, in spite of all risks, he arrived safely under Colonel Talbot's roof, where he found that, though the news of his father's death was indeed true, yet his own conduct certainly had nothing to do with the matter--nor was Sir Everard in the slightest present danger.

Whereupon, much relieved as to his family, Edward proclaimed his intention of returning to Scotland as soon as possible--not indeed to join with the rebels again, but for the purpose of seeking out Rose Bradwardine and conducting her to a place of safety.

It was not, perhaps, the wisest course he might have pursued. But during his lonely stay at Farmer Williams's farm, Edward's heart had turned often and much to Rose. He could not bear to think of her alone and without protection. By means of a pa.s.sport (which had been obtained for one Frank Stanley, Colonel Talbot's nephew), Waverley was able easily to reach Edinburgh. Here from the landlady, with whom he and Fergus had lodged, Edward first heard the dread news of Culloden, of the slaughter of the clans, the flight of the Prince, and, worst of all, how Fergus and Evan Dhu, captured the night of the skirmish, were presently on trial for their lives at Carlisle. Flora also was in Carlisle, awaiting the issue of the trial, while with less certainty Rose Bradwardine was reported to have gone back to her father's mansion of Tully-Veolan.

Concerning the brave old Baron himself, Edward could get no news, save that he had fought most stoutly at Culloden, but that the government were particularly bitter against him because he had been '_out_'

twice--that is, he had taken part both in the first rising of the year 1715, and also in that which had just been put down in blood at Culloden.

Without a moment's hesitation, Edward set off for Tully-Veolan, and after one or two adventures he arrived there, only to find the white tents of a military encampment whitening the moor above the village. The house itself had been sacked. Part of the stables had been burned, while the only living being left about the mansion of Tully-Veolan was no other than poor Davie Gellatley, who, chanting his foolish songs as usual, greeted Edward with the cheering intelligence that "_A' were dead and gane--Baron--Bailie--Saunders Saunderson--and Lady Rose that sang sae sweet!_"

However, it was not long before he set off at full speed, motioning Waverley to follow him. The innocent took a difficult and dangerous path along the sides of a deep glen, holding on to bushes, rounding perilous corners of rock, till at last the barking of dogs directed them to the entrance of a wretched hovel. Here Davie's mother received Edward with a sullen fierceness which the young man could not understand--till, from behind the door, holding a pistol in his hand, unwashed, gaunt, and with a three weeks' beard fringing his hollow cheeks, he saw come forth--the Baron of Bradwardine himself.

After the first gladsome greetings were over, the old man had many a tale to tell his young English friend. But his chief grievance was not his danger of the gallows, nor the discomfort of his hiding-place, but the evil-doing of his cousin, to whom, as it now appeared, the Barony of Bradwardine now belonged. Malcolm of Inch-Grabbit had, it appeared, come to uplift the rents of the Barony. But the country people, being naturally indignant that he should have so readily taken advantage of the misfortune of his kinsman, received him but ill. Indeed, a shot was fired at the new proprietor by some unknown marksman in the gloaming, which so frightened the heir that he fled at once to Stirling and had the estate promptly advertised for sale.

"In addition to which," continued the old man, "though I bred him up from a boy, he hath spoken much against me to the great folk of the time, so that they have sent a company of soldiers down here to destroy all that belongs to me, and to hunt his own blood-kin like a partridge upon the mountains."

"Aye," cried Janet Gellatley, "and if it had not been for my poor Davie there, they would have catched the partridge, too!"

Then with a true mother's pride Janet told the story of how the poor innocent had saved his master. The Baron was compelled by the strictness of the watch to hide, all day and most of the nights, in a cave high up in a wooded glen.

"A comfortable place enough," the old woman explained; "for the goodman of Corse-Cleugh has filled it with straw. But his Honour tires of it, and he comes down here whiles for a warm at the fire, or at times a sleep between the blankets. But once, when he was going back in the dawn, two of the English soldiers got a glimpse of him as he was slipping into the wood and banged off a gun at him. I was out on them like a hawk, crying if they wanted to murder a poor woman's innocent bairn! Whereupon they swore down my throat that they had seen 'the auld rebel himself,' as they called the Baron. But my Davie, that some folk take for a simpleton, being in the wood, caught up the old grey cloak that his Honour had dropped to run the quicker, and came out from among the trees as we were speaking, majoring and play-acting so like his Honour that the soldier-men were clean beguiled, and even gave me sixpence to say nothing about their having let off their gun at 'poor crack-brained Sawney,' as they named my Davie!"

It was not till this long tale was ended that Waverley heard what he had come so far to find out--that Rose was safe in the house of a Whig Laird, an old friend of her father's, and that the Bailie, who had early left the army of the Prince, was trying his best to save something out of the wreck for her.

The next morning Edward went off to call on Bailie Macwheeble. At first the man of law was not very pleased to see him, but when he learned that Waverley meant to ask Rose to be his wife, he flung his best wig out of the window and danced the Highland fling for very joy. This rejoicing was a little marred by the fact that Waverley was still under proscription. But when a messenger of the Bailie's had returned from the nearest post-town with a letter from Colonel Talbot, all fear on this account was at an end. Colonel Talbot had, though with the greatest difficulty, obtained royal Protections for both the Baron of Bradwardine and for Edward himself. There was no doubt that full pardons would follow in due course.

Right thankfully the Baron descended from his cave, as soon as Edward carried him the good news, and with Davie Gellatley and his mother, all went down to the house of Bailie Macwheeble, where supper was immediately served.

It was from old Janet Gellatley, Davie's mother, that Waverley learned whom he had to thank for rescuing him from the hands of Captain Gifted Gilfillan, and to whom the gentle voice belonged which had cheered him during his illness. It was none other than Rose Bradwardine herself. To her, Edward owed all. She had even given up her jewels to Donald Bean Lean, that he might go scatheless. She it was who had provided a nurse for him in the person of old Janet Gellatley herself, and lastly she had seen him safely on his way to Holyrood under the escort of the sulky Laird of Balmawhapple.

So great kindness certainly required very special thanks. And Edward was not backward in asking the Baron for permission to accompany him to the house of Duchran, where Rose was at present residing. So well did Edward express his grat.i.tude to Rose, that she consented to give all her life into his hands, that he might go on showing how thankful he was.

Of course the marriage could not take place for some time, because the full pardons of the Baron and Edward took some time to obtain. For Fergus Mac-Ivor, alas, no pardon was possible. He and Evan Dhu were condemned to be executed for high treason at Carlisle, and all that Edward could do was only to promise the condemned Chieftain that he would be kind to the poor clansmen of Vich Ian Vohr, for the sake of his friend.

As for Evan Dhu, he might have escaped. The Judge went the length of offering to show mercy, if Evan would only ask it. But when Evan Dhu was called upon to plead before the Court, his only request was that he might be permitted to go down to Glennaquoich and bring up six men to be hanged in the place of Vich Ian Vohr.

"And," he said, "ye may begin with me the first man!"

At this there was a laugh in the Court. But Evan, looking about him sternly, added: "If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing because a poor man such as me thinks my life, or the life of any six of my degree, is worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, they may be very right. But if they laugh because they think I would not keep my word, and come back to redeem him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman nor the honour of a gentleman!"

After these words, there was no more laughing in that Court.