by John Buchan
Suddenly, to my amazement, I saw Nicol fling himself back in the saddle while his horse stumbled violently forward. It was one of the most ingenious feats of horsemanship that I have ever witnessed. The beast stood quivering, his ears erect with fright, while I rode alongside.
“For God’s sake, sir, take care,” Nicol cried. “There’s some damned thing ower the road, and if I hadna been on the watch it wad hae been a’ ower wi’ yae guid man. Watch, for ye may get a shot In your belly any meenute. “
Now, as it chanced, it was that lively canter which saved us, for the rogues who had set the trap had retired a good way, not expecting us so early. At the sound of the stumble they came rushing up from among the fern, and, ere I knew, a pistol shot cracked past my ears, and another and another.
Two went wide; one hit my horse on the ear and made him unmanageable, so that I sat there with my beast plunging and kicking, at the mercy of whosoever had a fourth pistol.
Nicol spoke not a word, but turning his horse, dashed forward in the direction whence the shots had come. As it fell out, it was the best thing that anyone could have done, for the robbers, not expecting any such assault, were preparing to fire again. As it was, the forefeet of the horse took one villain on the chest, knocking him senseless and well-nigh trampling the life out of him. A second gripped Nicol by the sleeve, and attempted to drag him from the saddle; which plan would doubtless have succeeded, had not my servant, pulling the pistol (which was not loaded) from his holsters, presented it at the man’s head with such effect that the fellow in fear of his life let go and fled across the moor.
By this time I had reduced my own animal to something like submission. I rode after Nicol and came up just in time to see the third man of the band (there were but three; for doubtless they trusted to their trap for unhorsing if not stunning us) engaged in a desperate struggle. Nicol had him by the throat with one hand and was endeavouring to squeeze the breath out of him, while he in turn had his opponent by the other arm, which he was twisting cruelly. Had my servant been on foot the matter would soon have ended, for the throat fared badly which those long wiry hands once encircled; but being on horseback he dared not lean forward lest he should lose his seat. My appearance settled it; for the robber, freeing himself at one desperate leap, made off at the top of his speed, leaving his pistols behind him. There remained but the one whom Nicol’ s horse had deprived of his senses.
Unfortunately the blow had not been a very severe one, for he was not long in coming to himself. There was some water in a little stagnant pool near at hand which Nicol dashed in his face, and in a little the man opened his eyes and looked up.
At the sight of us he started, and the events of the past half hour came back to his memory. Then a look of sullen, obstinate anger came into his face, and he lay still, waiting for events to take their course.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He made no answer.
I repeated the question several times, and still the man kept his silence.
“Ye donnert scoondrel,” cried Nicol, “tell us whae ye are, or ye’ ll hang the morn on the gallows-hill at Leyden.”
Still the fellow would not speak.
“Let’s tie him up,” said Nicol, “and I’ll ride wi’ him on the horse afore me. He’ll get justice when we win to the toun.”
But this was not my policy. I had other things to think of than bringing marauders to trial. A sudden thought struck me.
“I will try him another way,” said I to Nicol. “Do you stand aside.”
The man lay on the ground where my servant’s horse had thrown him, with a belt round his legs, and his arms knotted together. I went up to him, and stood over.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked sternly, in as tragic a voice as I could assume.
The man stared sulkily, but did not speak.
“You fool,” I cried, “do you think that thus you will circumvent me — Know that I am the great doctor, Joannes Burnetus of Lugdunum, skilled in all arts of earth and heaven, able to tell divinations and prophecies, learned in all magic and witchery. I know all that thou hast done since thy birth, and thy father and grandsire before thee, all the wickedness which shall entitle thee to eternal damnation in that place which the Devil is even now preparing for thee. Yea, I can tell thee the very death which thou shalt die “
“Stop, stop,” cried the fellow, “O most learned sir, spare me. I know thou knowest all things. I confess my sins, and oh, I promise you I shall mend my ways. Stop, I pray.”
“There is still one ray of hope for thee,” said I, “but I cannot give my word that thou shalt ever gain it, for thou hast advanced too far in sin already. But yet thou mayest escape, and there is but one way to set about it — namely, to tell me of all thy wickedness. I adjure thee, by the sacred sign Tekel which the Chaldaeans used of old; by Mene which was the sign of the Egyptians; by the Eikon of the Greeks; by the Lar of the Romans. I summon thee by the holy names of God, Tetragrammaton, Adonay, Algramay, Saday, Sabaoth, Planaboth, Panthon, Craton, Neupmaton, Deus, Homo, Omnipotens; by Asmath, the name of the Evil One, who is lord over thee and my slave — I summon thee to tell me all thy deeds.”
The man was frightened past all telling. He tried to crawl to my knees, and began a recital of all manner of crimes and peccadilloes, from his boyhood till the present hour. I listened without interest.
“Had any Scot a part with thee in this night’s work?” I asked.
“No, there was none. There were but Bol and Delvaux beside myself, both Dutch born and bred.”
My mind was lightened. I never really believed my cousin to have had any part in such a matter, but I was glad to know it for truth.
“You may go now,” I said, “go and repent, and may God blast thee with all his fire if thou turnest thy hand to evil again. By the bye, thy name — I must have it from thy own lips.”
“Jan Hamman, your lordship,” said he.
“Well, God pity thee, Jan Hamman, if ever I lay my hand on thee again. Be off now.”
He was off in a twinkling, running for his very life. Nicol and I remounted, and rode onward, coming to Leyden at the hour of one on the Sabbath morning — a thing which I much regretted.
V. — THE FIRST SUNDAY OF MARCH
I SLEPT late on the next morning, so that it was near nine o’clock ere I was up and dressed. By the time that I broke my fast I had had some leisure to reflect upon the events of the preceding night and the consequences which should ensue. Nicol came to me as soon as the meal was over, and together we sat down to consult.
“This is the Sabbath, your honour,” said Nicol, “so ye may consider yoursel’ free for the day at ony rate.”
“Not so free,” said I, for I knew my cousin Gilbert. “The men I’ve to deal with have no more respect for the Lord’s day than you have for a Popish fast, so we must put that out of account.”
“Weel, weel,” said Nicol, “if that’s sae it maun be sae. Will ye gang oot wi’ him the day?”
“No,” said I, “not that I am caring for the day, for you mind the proverb, ‘the better the day the better the work,’ but, being in a foreign land, I am loth to break with the customs of my country. So we’ll keep the Sabbath, Nicol my lad, and let Gilbert whistle.”
Now I would not have him who may read this narrative think, from my conduct on this occasion, that I was whiggishly inclined, for, indeed, I cared naught about such little matters. I would have a man use the Sabbath like any other day, saving that, as it seems to me, it is a day which may profitably be used for serious reading and meditation. But I was ever of a curious disposition, liking to be always in mind of Tweeddale and the folk there, so that I kept the Sabbath during my life abroad as strictly as a covenanting minister on the moors of Ayr.
“Weel, Laird, that means ye’ ll no see the body though he comes,” said Nicol, “and, God help me, if ye dae that there’ll be a terrible stramash at the street door. I’se warrant auld Mistress Vanderdecker’ll get her ribs knockit in if she tr
ies to keep them oot.”
“They can make all the noise they please,” said I hotly, “but if it comes to that the two of us are as good as their bit officers. I ask for nothing better than to take some of the pride out of Gilbert’s friends with the flat of my sword. Then if they come today and are refused entrance, they will come back tomorrow, and all will be well.”
“Then what am I to dae — When the bodies come to the door, I’m to say, ‘His lordship’s compliments, but his lordship’s busy keeping the Sabbath in his upper chamber, and if ye will come back the morn he’ll look into your claims.’ ‘Faith, it’s awfu’ like auld Sanders Blackett, the lawyer at Peebles, when I gaed to him seeking the law o’ the miller o’ Rachan. It was about nine o’clock yae winter’s nicht when I got there, and Sanders was at supper. He stappit his heid oot o’ the window and, says he, ‘Gang awa’, my man, and come back the morn. I’m busy takin’ the books.’ But I saw by the een o’ him that he was daein’ nae siccan thing. ‘Oh,’ says I, ‘if ye ca’ kippered saumon and schnapps the books, I’m content. I’ll just come in and help ye to tak them tae.’ But he says verra angry, ‘Go away, ye impious man, lest the judgment of Heaven light upon you. I’ve godly Maister Clovenclaws assisting me in the solemn ordinance.’ ‘Awa’ wi’ your Clovenclaws,’ says I, ‘I’ve come ten mile to speak wi’ ye, and I’ll no gang hame wi’oot it.’ But I was just thinkin’ I would have to gang back after a’, when a voice comes frae the inside, ‘Sanders, ye limb o’ the deil, whaur’s the sugar—’ I kenned Maister Clovenclaws’ voice ower weel, so Sanders begins to think that it wadna dae to let it be telled a’ ower the toun that him and the minister had been birling at the wine thegither. So ‘Come in, Maister Plenderleith,’ says he verra cannily, and in I gaed, and sic a nicht’s drinking I never saw. I put Sanders in his bed, honest man, about twae o’clock i’ the morning, and syne Clovenclaws and me gaed at it till daylicht. I wantit to see the body below the table afore I gaed, and he wantit to see me, so we sat at it till I was fain to drap for very decency’s sake. So what does the man dae but lift me on his shouther and walk as straucht ower to the manse as if he were new oot o’ his bed; and there he gied me some guid advice about no presumin’ to contend wi’ my superiors, and let me oot at a back door, ‘Faith, it was an awfu’ time.”
“You will say to them that I am busy with other work, and that I will be glad to see them to-morrow about the matter they know of. Most like they will go away quietly, and if they do not it will be the worse for their own skins. You take my meaning?”
“I’ll dae your orders, sir, to the letter,” said Nicol, and I was well aware that he would.
I got my books out and set to work to read the gospel of John in Greek for my spiritual benefit, but I made little speed. This was mainly the fault of Nicol, who every few minutes came into the little room where I sat, on some feigned errand. I soon divined the reason, for the same chamber contained a great window, whence one might view the whole length of the narrow street wherein the house was situate, and even some little portion of the great Breedestraat at the head. It was plain that my servant was not a little concerned on my account.
“Are ye sure that your honour’s guid wi’ the smallswird?” he asked mournfully. “If this room were a wee bit braider and the day no what it is I micht gie ye a lesson.”
I did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. “Why, you rascal,” I cried, “do you know anything of these matters — There are many better swordsmen than I in the world, but I think I am more than a match for you.”
“Weel,” said Nicol modestly, “I’ve gien some folk a gey fricht wi’ the swird, but let that be. I’ll be blithe if ye get the better o’ him and a waefu’ man I’ll be if he kills ye. Lord, what’ll I dae? I’ll hae to become a sodger in this heathen land, or soom hame, whilk is a thing I am no capable o’.” And he began to sing with a great affectation of grief:
The craw killed the pussie O,
The craw killed the pussie O,
The wee bit kittlin’ sat and grat
In Jennie’s wee bit hoosie O.
— in which elegant rhyme the reader will observe that my cousin stood for the crow, I for the pussie, and my servant for the kittlin’.
I laughed; but it is not seemly to stand by while your own servant sings a song which compares you to a cat, so I straightway flung a Greek lexicon at his head, and bade him leave the room. I much regretted the act, for it was my only copy of the book. Master Struybrock’s, and the best obtainable, and by the fall some leaves came out, and one, À¿»ÅÀµ½¸· to À¿»ÅÀ¿Å, has not been renewed to this day.
After Nicol had gone I amused myself by looking out of the window and watching the passers-by. Some, sober Dutch citizens with Bibles beneath their arms and their goodly persons habited in decent black, were striding solemnly to church, while their wives and children came more slowly behind. Others of the lighter sort were wandering aimlessly on no purpose but their own pleasure, but all I marked were dressed out in their finest clothes. What I noted most of all was the greater colour in the streets than we have in our own land. For there, you will see little but blacks and drabs and browns, while here the women were often gaily arrayed in bright tints which gave a pleasing look to the causeway.
I had not sat long when I noted two gentlemen coming down the alley from the Breedestraat, very finely clad, and with a great air of distinction in their faces. They kept the causeway in such a fashion that all whom they met had to get into the middle of the road to let them pass. I half guessed their errand, the more as the face of one of them seemed to me familiar, and I fancied that he had been one of the guests at the supper at Alphen. My guess was confirmed by their coming to a halt outside the door of my lodging and attentively considering the house. Meantime all their actions were plain to my view from the upper window.
One of them stepped forward and knocked loudly. Now I had bidden Nicol be ready to open to them and give my message. So I was not surprised when I heard the street door opened and the voice of my servant accosting the men.
I know not what he said to them, but soon words grew high and I could see the other come forward to his comrade’s side. By and by the door was slammed violently, and my servant came tearing upstairs. His face was flushed in wrath.
“O’ a’ the insolent scoondrels I ever met, thae twae are the foremost. They wadna believe me when I telled them ye were busy. ‘Busy at what—’ says the yin. ‘What’s your concern—’ says I. ‘If ye dinna let us up to see your maister in half a twinkling,’ says the ither, ‘by God we’ll make ye.’ ‘Make me!’ says I; ‘come on and try it. If it wasna for your mither’s sake I wad tie your necks thegither.”
“Nicol,” I said, “bring these men up. It will be better to see them.” My intention changed of a sudden, for I did not seek to carry my finicking too far.
“I was thinkin’ sae, your honour,” said Nicol, “but I didna like to say it.”
So in a little the two gentlemen came up the stairs and into my room, where I waited to receive them.
“Gentlemen,” said I, “I believe you have some matter to speak of with me.”
“Why do you keep such scoundrelly servants. Master Burnet?” said one, whom I knew for Sir James Erskine of Tullo.
“Your business, gentlemen,” I said, seeking to have done with them. They were slight men, whom I could have dropped out of the window; most unlike the kind of friends I should have thought my cousin Gilbert would have chosen.
“Well, if you will have our business,” said the elder, speaking sulkily, “you are already aware of the unparalleled insult to which a gentlemen of our regiment was subjected at your hands?”
“Oh, yes,” I said gaily, “I had forgotten. I broke Gilbert’s head with a wine-glass. Does he want to ask my pardon?”
“You seem to take the matter easily, sir,” said one severely. “Let me tell you that Master Gilbert Burnet demands that you meet him at once and give satisfaction with your sword.”
&nbs
p; “Right,” I cried, “I am willing. At what hour shall it be? Shall we say seven o’clock to-morrow’s morning? That is settled then? I have no second and desire none. There is the length of my sword. Carry my compliments to my cousin, and tell him I shall be most pleased to chastise him at the hour we have named. And now, gentlemen, I have the honour to wish you a very good day,” and I bowed them out of the room.
They were obviously surprised and angered by my careless reception of their message and themselves. With faces as flushed as a cock’s comb they went down stairs and into the street, and I marked that they never once looked back, but marched straight on with their heads in the air.
“Ye’ve gien thae lads a flee in their lug,” said Nicol. “I wish ye may gie your cousin twae inches o’ steel in his vitals the morn.”
“Ah,” said I, “that is a different matter. These folk were but dandified fools. My cousin is a man and a soldier.”
The rest of the day I spent in walking by myself in the meadows beyond the college gardens, turning over many things in my mind. I had come to this land for study, and lo! ere I well knew how, I was involved in quarrels. I felt something of a feeling of shame in the matter, for the thing had been brought on mainly by my over-fiery temper. Yet when I pondered deeply I would not have the act undone, for a display of foolish passion was better in my eyes than the suffering of an insult to a lady to pass unregarded.
As for the fight on the morrow I did not know whether to await it with joy or shrinking. As I have said already, I longed to bring matters between the two of us to a head. There was much about him that I liked; he had many commendable virtues; and especially he belonged to my own house. But it seemed decreed that he should ever come across my path, and already there was more than one score laid up against him in my heart. I felt a strange foreboding of the man, as if he were my antithesis, which certain monkish philosophers believed to accompany everyone in the world. He was so utterly different from me in all things; my vices he lacked and my virtues; his excellencies I wanted, and also, I trust, his faults. I felt as if the same place could not contain us.