Tales From Scottish Ballads Part 7

With that they entered the house, and rushed upstairs, thinking that it would be an easy matter to capture the Scottish leader, for they knew that he had no follower with him. But the weak things of this world are able sometimes to confound the mighty, and they had not reckoned that the two old people to whom the inn belonged were prepared to shed the last drop of their blood, rather than that Wallace should come to harm in their house.

So the old man had taken down his broad claymore from the wall, and the old woman had seized a lance, and they stood one on each side of their guest, grasping their weapons with fevered zeal.

Then began a fierce and deadly onslaught in that little room, and many a time it seemed as if the three brave defenders must go down; but Wallace's arm had the strength of ten, and the old man laid on right bravely, and the old woman gave many a deadly thrust with her lance from behind, where she saw it was needed, and so it came to pa.s.s that at last every Englishman was slain, and Wallace and his bold helpers were left triumphant.

"Now, surely, I can eat in peace," said he, sitting down to his sorely needed meal, "and then must I begone. For, with thy help, I have done a work here this day that will raise all the English 'twixt Perth and Edinburgh. Mayhap, goodman, thou canst get help to throw these bodies into the river. 'Twill be better for thee that the English find them not in thy house, for I must up and away."

"That can I," said the old man, "for the good folk of Perth think much of thee, and very little of the English, therefore will they give me a hand."[2]

[Footnote 2: Help me.]

So once more Wallace took the road to the North, and as he retraced his steps across the North Inch, he pa.s.sed the rosy-cheeked maiden again, busy at her work. She was laying the clothes out to bleach now, and she gave him a friendly nod as he approached.

"I hope, fair sir, that thou hast seen the English," she said, "and that thou hast come by food at the same time?"

"That have I," said Wallace; "thanks to thy gentle charity, I have eaten and drunk to my heart's content. I have seen the English soldiers too, and, by my troth, the English soldiers have also seen me. The day that I visited that little hostler-house is not likely to be forgotten by the English army."

Then he put his hand in his pocket, and drew out twenty pounds in good red gold.

"Take that," he said to the astonished damsel, pressing the money into her hand as he spoke. "Thy half-crown brought me luck, and this is but thy rightful share of it."

So saying, he took his way quickly towards the hills, leaving the girl so bewildered, that, had it not been for the money in her hand, she would have been inclined to think that it was all a dream.

As it was, she never quite believed that it was a human being who had taken away her silver half-crown, and brought her back twenty gold pieces, but talked of ghosts, and visions; and some people, when they heard of the thirty English soldiers who lay dead in the little hostler-house, were inclined to be of her opinion.

THE WARLOCK O' OAKWOOD

"Ae gloamin' as the sinking sun Gaed owre the wastlin' braes, And shed on Oakwood's haunted towers His bright but fading rays,

Auld Michael sat his leafu' lane Down by the streamlet's side, Beneath a spreading hazel bush, And watched the pa.s.sing tide."

The bright rays of the setting sun were shining over the valley of Ettrick, and lighting up the stone turrets on the old tower of Oakwood.

For many a long year the old tower had stood empty, while its owner, Sir Michael Scott, one of the most learned men who ever lived, wandered in distant lands, far across the sea.

He had been a mere boy when he left it, to study at Durham and Oxford: then the love of learning had carried him first of all to Paris, where he had been famed for his skill in mathematics; then to Italy, and finally to Spain, where he had studied alchemy under the Moors, and had learned from them, so 'twas said, much of the magic of the East, so that he had power over spirits, and could command them to come and go at his bidding, and could read the stars, and cure the sick, and do many other wonderful things, which made all men regard him as a wizard.

And now that he had come back to his old home once more, the country folk avoided him, and gazed with awe at the great square tower where, they said, he spent most of his time, practising his magic art, and holding converse with the powers of darkness.

The King, on the other hand, thought much of this most learned knight, and would fain have seen more of him at his court in Edinburgh, but Sir Michael loved the country best, and spent most of his time there, writing, or reading, or making experiments.

This evening, however, he was not in his tower, but was sitting by the side of the Ettrick, studying with deepest interest all the sights and sounds of nature which were going on around him. For he loved nature, this studious, quiet, middle-aged man, and the sight of the little minnows darting about in the water, and the trouts hiding under the stones, and the partridges coming whirring across the cornfields, gave him as much pleasure as all the wonderful sights which he had seen in far-off lands.

Suddenly he raised his head and listened. Far away in the distance he seemed to hear the sound of trumpets, and the "thud," "thud" of horses'

hoofs, as if a body of men were riding quickly towards him.

"Some strangers are approaching," he said to himself, "and if I am not mistaken they are soldiers. I will hasten home and learn their errand.

Mayhap it is a message from his Majesty the King."

He rose to his feet slowly, for his limbs were somewhat cramped with sitting, and walked with stately dignity to the tower.

The riders had just arrived, and, as he expected, they bore a message from the King. As he approached, a knight clad in full armour rode forward, preceded by a man-at-arms, and, bending low over his horse's neck, presented to him a parchment packet, sealed with the Royal Seal.

"The King of Scotland, whom G.o.d preserve, sends greetings to his loyal cousin Sir Michael Scott," he said, "and whereas various French sailors have committed acts of piracy on the high seas, and have attacked and robbed divers Scottish vessels, he lays on him his Royal commands that he will betake himself to France with all speed, and deliver this packet into the hands of the French King. And, further, that he will demand that an answer to the writing contained therein be given him at once, and that he hasten back with all dispatch, and draw not rein, nor tarry, till he deliver the answer to the King in Edinburgh."

Sir Michael took the packet from the messenger's hand and bowed gravely.

He was accustomed to receive such orders, and everyone wondered at the marvellously quick way in which he obeyed them.

"Carry my humblest greetings to his Majesty," he answered, "and a.s.sure him that I will lose no time, but will at once set about making my preparations. By dawn of day I will be gone, mounted on the swiftest steed that ever the eye of mortal man gazed upon."

"Is it swifter than the horse which his Majesty keeps for his own use at Dunfermline?" asked the soldier curiously. "For if it is, it must indeed be a n.o.ble animal, and 'twould fetch a good price among the barons of the court. Ever since his Majesty has turned his mind so much to horses, his courtiers have vied with each other to see which of them could become the possessor of the swiftest animal."

"My horse is not for sale," said Sir Michael shortly, "not though men offered me his weight in gold."

The young officer bowed again. There was something in Sir Michael's tone which forbade him asking to see the horse, much as he should have liked to do so; so, giving a signal to his men, he turned his horse's head in the direction of Edinburgh, and rode off, leaving Sir Michael standing on the doorstep gazing after them, a strange smile on his face.

"A good price," he repeated; "by my troth, 'twould need to be a very good price which would buy my good Diabolus from me. But I must go and summon him."

Muttering strangely to himself, he turned and entered the tower.

He went up the narrow, winding, stone stairs until he reached a little iron-studded door. This door was locked, but he opened it with a key which hung from his girdle, and, entering the low-roofed attic-room to which it led, he locked it again carefully behind him. The attic was at the top of the tower, and through the narrow windows which pierced three of its walls, a glorious view was to be had over the surrounding country.

But Sir Michael had not come up there to admire the view; he had other work to do--work which seemed to need mysterious preparations.

First of all, he proceeded to dress himself in a curiously shaped black cloak, and a hunting cap made of hair, which he took down from a nail in the wall. The cloak was very long, and completely enveloped his figure, and, when he had pulled the hairy cap well down over his eyes, no one would have taken him, I warrant, for the quiet, middle-aged, master of Oakwood.

When he was dressed he took down a leaden platter from a shelf by the door, and, opening a cupboard, he took out a little gla.s.s bottle full of a clear amber-coloured liquid, which glowed like melted fire. Setting down the platter on a little round table in the middle of the room, he dropped one or two drops of this liquid on it, and in an instant they broke into tongues of flame which curled up high above his head.

It was a strange and weird fire, enough to frighten any man, but the still, dark-robed figure standing beside it never moved, not even when a number of tiny little imps appeared, clad in scarlet, and green, and blue, and purple, and danced round and round it on the table, tossing their tiny arms, and twisting their queer little faces, as if they had gone mad.

He waited patiently until the little creatures had finished their dance and disappeared, then he seized the platter, and, going to one of the narrow windows, he flung it open, and, pushing the platter through it, he threw it, with its burning load, far out into the gathering twilight.

He watched the fire as it fell, in glowing fragments, among the oak trees which surrounded the tower, then he opened a small, black, leathern-bound book, which lay chained to a monk's desk which stood in a corner. Opening it he read a few words in an unknown tongue, then he turned to the window again and waved a little silver wand over his head three times.

"Come, Diabolus. Come, Diabolus," he muttered, and then he knelt on the floor and waited eagerly, his eyes fixed on the Western horizon.

The sun had sunk, but the sky was clear, and one or two stars had appeared, and were shining out peacefully, like little candles set in a golden haze.

Presently, however, big black clouds began to appear, and pile up, one against another, till the little stars were blotted out, and the whole sky became as black as night.

In a little time the dull muttering of thunder could be heard far away over the woods. It came nearer and nearer--crash upon crash, and roar upon roar--while the lightning flashed, and a perfect tempest of wind arose and lashed the branches of the tall trees into fury. Truly it was an awful storm.

The wizard felt the solid masonry of the tower rock beneath him, but he was as calm as if only a little gust of wind had been pa.s.sing on a summer's day.