The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 1 (of 3)

At this yeoman's habitation our notable embassy arrived at a late hour, for, though scarcely five o'clock afternoon, it was pitch dark. They called at the door, and out came Jock with a light. The first man that he beheld was the friar.

"Saint Mary's jerkin be about us!" cried Jock Robson, half in sport, half in earnest, "and defend us from our auld black minny's delegates. What seeks Lucky Church amang the hills o' Cheviot, wi' her creeds an' her croons, her trumpery, an' her lang tythes o' sheep an' kye, wild deer, and weathershaker, barndoor an' blackhag fowls? Nought for Minny Church an' her bike here, Sir Monk—naething o' our ain breeding—a' comers an' gangers, like John Nisbet's fat sheep. Howsomever, honest bedesman, I speir ye the auld question,

"Come ye as friend, or come ye as fae?For sic as ye bring, sic sal ye hae!"

"As thy friends do we come, uncourteous hind," said the monk; "and ask only a little of thy bread, and thy strong drink, for the refreshment of our bodies, that are like the grass on the tops of thy mountains, fading ere it be full grown, and require as thou knowest a supply of earthly refreshment as these do the showers of heaven; and also we ask of thee beds whereon we may lie down and rest: and these things thou must not refuse, for we would not that thou shouldst be to us as the children of Amalek and Moab, and those of Mount Seir."

"Ye speak like a rational man, Sir Monk; but wait till I tell ye the truth, that I lurde see the cross on the handle of sword or spear ony time afore that hanging at the paunch of priest. There's mair honour an' generosity ahint the tane than the tither. But yet it shall never be said o' John Robson o' the Trows that he refused a friend quarters on a dark night. He kens ower weel that the king may come in the beggar's way. Gin ye be joking, he can stand a joke wi' ony man; but gin ye be really gaun to hand him as an Amalekite, he wad like to ken what that is, an' what lengths ye mean to gang."

"Thinkest thou that we will come into thy house to take of thy spoil for a prey, and thy maid servants for bond-women, and also thy little ones?" said the friar.

"The deil be there then," cried Jock Robson. "I wadna grudge ye meal an' maut, but or ye lay a hand on ane o' my lasses, or kidnap away my bits o' bairnies frae me, ye sal gang ower my breast, an' that wi' a braid arrow through ilk ane o' you. Be at your shift, bauld priest, here's for ye."

On saying so, he turned hastily about, and the friar that moment clapping the spurs to his mule, gallopped round the corner, leaving the rest to make good their quarters in the best way they could. The mention of the broad arrow made him think it was high time for him to change his ground.

"There rides gospel, guts an' a'," cried Tam Craik, laughing aloud.

The laugh was well known to Robson; for the warden's troopers had been so often there that year, that almost all of them were John Robson's personal acquaintances.

"What?" cried he, turning back his head, "Isna that the deil's Tam that I hear?"

"Ay, what for shoudna it, lad? an' how dare ye fright away our chaplain wi' your bows an' your braid arrows? Gin we had Jock's Marion, the sow-killer's wife o' Jeddart, at ye, wha wad be crousest then, trow ye?"

"Tam, it is weel kend your tongue is nae scandal; but dinna ye lippen ower muckle to your privilege; gin ye be come to quarter wi' me, dinna let me hear sic a hard jibe as that the night again. Come away, however, the warden's men are welcome, as weel they may be this year. Mony a fat mart they hae left i' my hire. I hope ye hae brought a bonny kane the night."

"Ay, by my certie, lad, an' that we hae; here's nae less a kane than Jock's Marion hersel."

"Ye scawed like bog-stalker! skrinkit, skraeshankit skebeld! dare ye to speak that gate to me at my ain door stane? I shall lend you a clout an ye were the king's cousin, an' see if ye dare return the compliment. Wife, bring the buet an' my piked rung here."

"Peace, in the king's name!" cried Charlie Scott.

"And in the name of St David!" cried the friar, returning to the charge on hearing Charlie's voice.

"And in my name!" cried Tam Craik;" an' Gibby Jordan o' the Peatstacknowe's name; and the name o' Jock's Marion, the sow-sticker's wife o' Jeddart. I say unto thee, look here. Here is the kane will please a brave yeoman. Look if this be nae Marion hersel"—and with that he led Delany's palfrey up to the light.

Robson lifted his eyes and saw her, and was so much struck with her dazzling beauty, that he had not power to address even his beloved friend Charlie Scott, far less any other of his guests, but lifting the maiden down in his arms, he led her in to his dame, and said to one of his lads, "Rin out wi' a light, callant, an' help the troopers to put up their horses."

The horses were soon put up, for every one seemed more anxious than another to get first in to the cheek of Jock Robson's ingle, and have his seat placed next to that of Delany; but the poet being the most agile, and not the least amorous of the group, effected this greatly to his satisfaction.

CHAPTER XI

The youngest turned him in a path,And drew a buirdly brande,And fifteen of the foremost slewe,Till back the lave couthe stande.Then he spurred the grey unto the path,Till baith her sides they bledde;"Now, grey, if thou carry nae me awayMy life it lies in wedde."Ballad of Auld Maitland.

We must pass over a great part of the conversation that evening, in order to get forward to the more momentous part of the history of our embassy. Suffice it to say, that the poet was in high glory, and not only delivered himself in pure iambics, but sung several love ditties, and one song of a foray, that pleased Charlie Scott mightily. But Isaac, the curate, has only given a fragment of it, which runs thus:

If you will meet me on the Dirdam waste,Merry man mint to follow;I'll start you the deer, and lead you the chace,With a whoop, and a whoo, and a hollo!The deer that you'll see, has horns enow, &c.Marked wi' red and merled wi' blue, &c.And that deer he will not turn his tailFor the stoutest hinds that range the dale.Come then, driver, in gear bedight;Come bold yeoman, and squire, and knight;The wind soughs loud on craig and heuch,And the linn rowts loud in the Crookside cleuch;Nor tramp of steed, nor jingle of spear,Will ever be heard by the southern deer:The streamer is out, and the moon away,And the morning starn will rise or day.Then mount to the stirrup, and scour the fell,Merry man mint to follow;And over the muir, and the dean, and the dell,With a whoop, and a whoo, and a hollo!*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

"Thy words and thy song, young man," said the friar, "are like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal; if laid in the balance, they are lighter than vanity."

"Yours will not prove so," said the poet, "provided you are laid in with them; for, as the old song says,—

'His wit is but weak, father;His gifts they are but sma';But the bouk that's under his breast bane,It grieves me warst of a.'"

"If thou singest this nonsense of me," said the friar, "lo, I will smite thee upon the mouth; yea, upon the cheek-bone will I smite thee, till thine eyes shall gush out like two fountains of waters." And so saying, he began to look about him for some missile weapon to throw at the bard's face, his breast burning with indignation,—for he loved not the tenor of the poet's conversation to the maid.

Tam and Jordan encouraged the friar to make the assault, in hopes that the poet might be dislodged or affronted; but Yardbire restrained the warmth of the friar, not being aware of his real sentiments, and ordered peace and good fellowship.

Dame Robson covered the hearth with a huge fire; and her husband bringing in a leg of beef, set it upon the table, and bade every one help himself.

"The words of thy mouth are exceeding good, and sweet unto the ear," said the friar, "as doubtless thy food is to the taste." With that he rose and helped himself to three nice and extensive slices of raw beef, and these he roasted on the tongs which he had just lifted to smite the poet on the head.

In good truth, though every one cooked his own supper, as was the fashion of that iron time, there was none did it half so nicely as the friar, nor so bunglingly as Jordan, whose supper, though long behind the others in being ready, was so unshapely a piece, and so raw on the one side, that the friar observed, "it was like Ephraim of old, as a cake unturned." Some roasted their meat on old swords, some on spindles, for their hosts took no heed how they were fitted, or in what manner they shifted in these respects; seemingly satisfied that they had plenty for the cooking, and leaving them to cook it or eat it raw, as they chose. The poet made haste, and, first of all, cooked two or three nice slices for the maiden, giving her what she would take before he would taste a morsel himself. Some commended him for this, and others jeered him; but the friar, in his grave moral style, said the severest things of all. From the very commencement of the journey, a jealousy or misunderstanding began to subsist between these two, which never again subsided till they came to blows.

The poet answered him again with a song:

"Keep ye to your books and your beads, goodman,Your Ave Marias and creeds, goodman;For gin ye end as ye're begun,There will be some crack of your deeds, goodman."

At length the party retired to rest, all save Jordan and their worthy host. The latter never slept in the night; he had always some watching, walking, or work in hand that suited that season best: and as for Gibby, he determined to sit up all night to watch that the poet made no encroachments on the place of Delany's repose. Robson encouraged his purpose, joined him heartily in conversation, listened to his long-winded stories with apparent delight, and, when all the rest were asleep, wormed the whole business of the embassy out of the shallow laird, who unfortunately testified his fears that they were carrying the lovely maiden and boy to the old warlock to be a sacrifice to the devil. Robson appeared terribly confounded at this peace of intelligence,—for from the time that he heard it he conversed no more with Jordan. About one in the morning he began to put on his snow-boots, as if preparing for a journey.

"Where are ye going at this time of night?" enquired the laird.

"I maun gang out an' see how the night wears," said Robson; "I hae sax score o' Scots queys that are outlyers. If I let the king's ellwand ower the hill, I'll hae them to seek frae the kips o' Kale."

Gibby accompanied him to the door, hoping the king's ellwand would not be over the hill, for he had no good will to part with his companion. But as soon as Robson turned his eye to the sky, "Ha, gude faith, I maun post away!" said he, "Yonder's the king's ellwand already begun to bore the hill; ay, there's ane o' the goud knobs out o' sight already, an' I hear the queys rowting ower the waterfa' o' the height. Gude morrow t'ye, laird, I'm ower lang here."

Gibby returned in to the blazing fire; and hearing so many persons all snoring in sleep, he caught the infection, stretched himself upon a divot seat, and joined the chorus with as much zeal as any of them.

Morning came, and our embassy made ready for proceeding on their journey; but Robson still was wanting, at which both his dame and household lads seemed to wonder, otherwise the rest would have taken no notice of it. Gibby told her about the queys that were outlyers, but she only answered him with a hem! and a slight shake of the head. Charlie, who knew his man well, began to smell a rat; and, calling Gibby to the door, he inquired if he had hinted ought of their business to their host. The laird at first denied; but Charlie questioned him till he confessed the whole, at which Charlie was exceedingly angry; and hearing that he had informed him all about the maiden, and of what family she was sprung, he called Gibby a worthless inconsiderate being, and said he had ruined their expedition, for that he knew Robson kept up a correspondence with the Halls, who were broken men, and many of them skulking about the border; that Delany had uncles, cousins, and a brother living, if she was the man's daughter she was supposed to be, and that these would without fail waylay them, and kill them every man, for the sake of rescuing her. "Robson," said he, "is altogether selfish, and has some end to serve; perhaps to get the maid into his own hands, for he seemed mightily taken with her beauty; and I calculate widely amiss if we are not watched from this house, and whether we return or proceed we shall be attacked in the first strait or lonely place that we come at." Jordan looked exceedingly out of countenance, and every feature of his face altered. "What had I ado to tell the rascal?" exclaimed he, "or wha wad hae thought o' him playing us sic a trick? Twa-faced dog that he is! It wad be weel done to let his liver pree the taste o' steel!"

Charlie made him promise that he would not mention the circumstance to one of the party, as it was only a surmise, and might impede their progress to no purpose; and forthwith they mounted, armed with such armour as they had, and all, save Gibby Jordan, as cheerful and as jealous of one another as they were on the preceding day. That worthy kept close by the side of muckle Charlie, and looked so sharp about him, that he perceived every shepherd, traveller, and cairn that appeared on the border fells, always testifying his alarm to his friend that perhaps yon was one of the Halls watching.

Charlie had resolved to go by Jedburgh straight for Oakwood castle; but his suspicions of Robson made him resolve to hold more to the eastward, in order to keep the open road. He knew that if they were watching him, it would be at the fords of Kale or Oxnam, on the Jedburgh road; and by taking the east path, he would not only elude them, but, in case of a pursuit, be near the outposts of the Scottish army.

For a good way they saw nothing, and began to think themselves in safety; but, in coming down Sowerhope-Middle, a little from the point of the debated land, three horsemen appeared to the westward of them. "His presence be about us," said Gibby,—"yonder are the Halls now!" Charlie said nothing, but kept watch. One of the yeomen vanished in a twinkling at full speed, the other two came at a brisk canter to our notable embassy.

"What do they mean?" said Jordan: "Do these two fellows propose to conquer us all?"

"It wad appear that they do," said Charlie, "for they come on us without halt or hesitation."

"I hardly think they'll succeed," added Gibby, "although they're twa dangerous looking chaps. For Godsake, Yardbire, tak care o' their back strokes; if they bring you down, our chance will be the waur."

Charlie then called to the rest of his cavalcade, "Friends, here are some strangers come to join us. Tell them nothing either good or bad, but keep on at a round trot. See, we are not far from the towers of Roxburgh. Whatever these men may say to you, make them nothing the wiser."

"I will not so much as say unto them, whence comest thou, or whither art thou going?" said the friar.

"I'll sing them a ditty of beauty and love,Of the wing of the raven, the eye of the dove,And beings all purer than angels above."

said the poet.

"Sic a rhame o' nonsense is there!" said Tam Craik: "If ony o' the dogs say an impertinent thing to me I'll gar his teeth gang down his throat like bristled beans."

It was not long before the two moss-troopers joined the party. They were tall athletic men, armed at all points, and their manner had a dash of insulting impertinence in it.

"A good morning, and fair grace to you, noble and worthy gentlemen!" said the foremost: "May we presume to be of the party?"

"You may presume," said the deil's Tam, "for that is what befits you; if you are willing to put up with the presumer's reward."

"You are witty, sir, I suppose," said the trooper; "and pray what may that reward be?"

"Yes, I am witty," said Tam; "and my wit is sharp when it is not in its sheath. Do you understand me? As for the reward of presumption, it is in Scotland to be crankit before and kicked behind."

"The road is at least as free to us as it is to you," said the mosstrooper; "and of that we intend to avail ourselves for the present. We go to join the army before Roxburgh, whither are you bound?"

"We follow our noses," said Tam; "but they guide us not to the army before Roxburgh, and into your rearward they caution us not to enter. Raw hides and rank bacon, keep your distance."

While Tam Craik and the trooper were thus jangling on before, Charlie said to Jordan, "Laird, what do think o' yoursel' now? Ye hae played us a fine pliskie wi' your ill tackit tongue! It is my thought that ere we ride a mile and a half we'll be attacked by a hale troop o' horse. That chap that disna speak is ane o' the wale o' the Ha's: I ken him weel for a' his half visor. The other horseman that left them on the height is ower to the fords of Kale, and, if I guess right, he'll appear at yon scroggy bush wi' sae mony at his back that we wad hardly be a mouthfu' to them, an' that in less time than ane wad gang a mile."

"It is an ill business this," said Gibby: "It brings me in mind o'—o' mair than I's name. But, gudesake, Yardbire, an ye be sure he is ane o' the Halls, what for do nae ye rin your sword in at the tae side o' him an' out at the tither? The sooner a knave like that is put down the better."

"Fair occasion, an' face to face, Peatstacknowe, an' ye sanna see Charlie Scott slack; but ye wadna hae me stick a man, or cleave him down ahint his back, an' that without fair warning and fair arming?"

"Ay, honour an' generosity are braw things, but life's a brawer thing an' a better thing than ony o' the twa. For my part, I wad never stop. My very heart flighters when I look at him, an' I amaist think I find his steel quivering at my midriff. I wish I had a drive at him, wi' a chance o' a hale head."—And from that time Gibby leaned himself forward on his saddle, and fixed his large grey eyes on the mosstrooper like a pointer going to fly on his game; and, in that attitude, he rode several times close up to his side, or very nearly opposite to him, laying his hand now and then on his hilt; but Charlie observed that he never looked his foe in the face with threatening aspect, and, perplexed as he was, could not help laughing at Gibby.

Yardbire now putting the spurs to Corby, galloped aslant the brae to a rising ground, whence he could see if any enemy was approaching by the swire from the fords of Kale, as he suspected. He had not well gained the height before he saw a dozen horsemen coming at the light gallop, but one part of the cavalcade considerably behind the others, owing to their being either worse mounted or worse horsemen.

By this time Charlie's own friends were coming round the bottom of the hill below him, quarrelling with the strangers so loudly, that Charlie heard their voices ascending on the gale in most discordant notes. The deil's Tam and the English trooper had never since their meeting ceased the jibe and the keen retort; but Tam's words were so provokingly severe, that the moss-man was driven beyond all further forbearance. Just when they were at the hottest, the helmets of the front men of the Northumberland cavalcade began to appear in the swire; a circumstance that was well noted by their offended kinsman, but of which Tam was perfectly unconscious.

"Well, now, thou jaundiced looking thief," said the moss-trooper, turning his horse's head towards Tam's left hand, and making him amble and curvette with his side foremost; "thou lean, nerveless, and soul-less jabberer, all tongue and nothing else—I say, what hast thou to say more?"

The alteration in the man's key of voice somewhat astounded Tam; but his perverse nature would not let him soften his reply, although he liked as well to see others fall into a mischief as himself. "Eh? what do I say?" said he; and with that he turned his horse's head to that of the other, making their two noses to meet; and caricaturing the Englishman's capers, he laughed sneeringly and triumphantly in his face. "What do I say? Eh? what do I say? I say I thought I heard wind, and smelled it a wee too. Hagg-hiding fox that thou art! Wild tike of the moors, dost thou think Tam Craik fears thy prancing and thy carrion breath, or ony o' the bur-throated litter of which thou art the outwale? Nay, an capering and prancing show ought of a spirit, I can caper and prance as well as thou. Out on thee, thou bog-thumper, thou base-born heather-blooter, what do you say? Or what dare you say?"

Tam had by this time drawn his sword completely to cow the Englishman, and put him to silence;—but he saw what Tam did not see, and knew more than he.

"I dare both say and do, and that thou shalt find," said the trooper; and forthwith he attacked Tam with all his prowess, who, not quite expecting such a thing gave way, and had very nearly been unhorsed; he, however, fought stoutly, defending himself, though manifestly at the disadvantage. The brave friar, at the first clash of the swords, wheeled about his mule, and drawing out a good sword from under his frock, (for he wore the sword on the one side and the cross on the other,) he stretched it forth, pointing it as if to thrust it between them. But, addressing himself to the Englishman, he cried with a loud voice, "Put up thy sword again into its place, or verily I will smite thee with the edge of my sword."

The other Englishman, who had never yet opened his mouth, and who had always kept apart, as if anxious to conceal who he was, now rode briskly up to the fray; and perceiving the quick approach of his friends, and judging his party quite secure of victory, he struck up the friar's sword in apparent derision. But the inveterate laird of the Peatstacknowe had been watching him all this time, as one colley dog watches another of which he is afraid, in order to take him at an advantage, and the moment that his arm was stretched, so that his sword came in contact with the friar's, Gibby struck him behind, and that with such violence that the sword ran through his body. The wounded trooper reined up his steed furiously, in order to turn on his adversary; Gibby reined his up as quickly to make his escape, but the convulsive force of the Englishman threw his horse over, and in its fall it tumbled against the legs of Gibby's horse with such force that it struck them all four from under him, and both he and his rider fell in a reverse direction, rolling plump over the wounded warrior and his forlorn encumbered steed, that was pawing the air at a furious rate. The two horses falling thus on different sides, their iron-shod hoofs were inter-mixed, and clashing and rattling away in a tremendous manner, tremendous at least to poor Gibby, whose leg and thigh being below his charger, he was unable to extricate himself. "Happ, Davie, happ!" cried he to the steed: "Up you stupid, awkward floundering thief! Happ, Davie, happ!" Davie could neither happ nor weynd, but there he lay groaning and kicking above his master, who was in a most deplorable plight.

Charlie perceiving the commencement of the fray, was all this while galloping furiously toward the combatants. But the battle was of short duration; for the English trooper, seeing his comrade fall he wist not how, and the friar and Tam having both their swords pointed at him, broke furiously through between them and fled towards his companions, Tam being only enabled to inflict a deep wound on the hinder part of the horse as he passed by.

"I have made him to pass away as the stubble that is driven by the whirlwind," said the friar; "yea, as the chaff before the great wind, so is he fled from the arm of the mighty. Brother, I say unto thee, that thou hadst better arise!" continued he, looking upon the disconsolate Jordan; and passing by on the other side with great ang froid, he rode up to Delany, the boy Elias, and the poet, the latter of whom had not been engaged, but, drawing his sword manfully, had stood as a guard to the other two.

Tam Craik pursued his enemy, although apparently not with a fixed design of overtaking him; and Gibby, being thus left all alone with the two inverted horses and the incensed moss-trooper, extended his voice to an amazing pitch, for he knew not what state of health and strength his opponent retained. This was a horrid consideration; for if he should disengage himself and get up first, there was an end of him of the Peatstacknowe. His nasal twine was increased by his dread, and he cried so vehemently, that his cries grew like the cries of a peacock.