by Walter Scott
CHAPTER X.
Gentle friend, Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday, And may be so tomorrow.
JOANNA BAILLIE.
The Duke of Albany was, like his royal brother, named Robert. TheChristian name of the latter had been John until he was called to thethrone; when the superstition of the times observed that the namehad been connected with misfortune in the lives and reigns of John ofEngland, John of France, and John Baliol of Scotland. It was thereforeagreed that, to elude the bad omen, the new king should assume the nameof Robert, rendered dear to Scotland by the recollections of RobertBruce. We mention this to account for the existence of two brothers ofthe same Christian name in one family, which was not certainly an usualoccurrence, more than at the present day.
Albany, also an aged man, was not supposed to be much more disposed forwarlike enterprise than the King himself. But if he had not courage, hehad wisdom to conceal and cloak over his want of that quality, which,once suspected, would have ruined all the plans which his ambition hadformed. He had also pride enough to supply, in extremity, the wantof real valour, and command enough over his nerves to conceal theiragitation. In other respects, he was experienced in the ways of courts,calm, cool, and crafty, fixing upon the points which he desired toattain, while they were yet far removed, and never losing sight of them,though the winding paths in which he trode might occasionally seem topoint to a different direction. In his person he resembled the King, forhe was noble and majestic both in stature and countenance. But he hadthe advantage of his elder brother, in being unencumbered with anyinfirmity, and in every respect lighter and more active. His dress wasrich and grave, as became his age and rank, and, like his royal brother,he wore no arms of any kind, a case of small knives supplying at hisgirdle the place usually occupied by a dagger in absence of a sword.
At the Duke's entrance the prior, after making an obeisance,respectfully withdrew to a recess in the apartment, at some distancefrom the royal seat, in order to leave the conversation of the brothersuncontrolled by the presence of a third person. It is necessary tomention, that the recess was formed by a window; placed in the innerfront of the monastic buildings, called the palace, from its being thefrequent residence of the Kings of Scotland, but which was, unless onsuch occasions, the residence of the prior or abbot. The windowwas placed over the principal entrance to the royal apartments, andcommanded a view of the internal quadrangle of the convent, formed onthe right hand by the length of the magnificent church, on the left bya building containing the range of cellars, with the refectory, chapterhouse, and other conventual apartments rising above them, for suchexisted altogether independent of the space occupied by King Robert andhis attendants; while a fourth row of buildings, showing a nobleoutward front to the rising sun, consisted of a large hospitium, forthe reception of strangers and pilgrims, and many subordinate offices,warehouses, and places of accommodation, for the ample stores whichsupplied the magnificent hospitality of the Dominican fathers. A loftyvaulted entrance led through this eastern front into the quadrangle,and was precisely opposite to the window at which Prior Anselm stood, sothat he could see underneath the dark arch, and observe the light whichgleamed beneath it from the eastern and open portal; but, owing to theheight to which he was raised, and the depth of the vaulted archway, hiseye could but indistinctly reach the opposite and extended portal. It isnecessary to notice these localities.
We return to the conversation between the princely relatives.
"My dear brother," said the King, raising the Duke of Albany, ashe stooped to kiss his hand--"my dear, dear brother, wherefore thisceremonial? Are we not both sons of the same Stuart of Scotland and ofthe same Elizabeth More?"
"I have not forgot that it is so," said Albany, arising; "but I must notomit, in the familiarity of the brother, the respect that is due to theking."
"Oh, true--most true, Robin," answered the King. "The throne is like alofty and barren rock, upon which flower or shrub can never take root.All kindly feelings, all tender affections, are denied to a monarch.A king must not fold a brother to his heart--he dare not give way tofondness for a son."
"Such, in some respects, is the doom of greatness, sire," answeredAlbany; "but Heaven, who removed to some distance from your Majesty'ssphere the members of your own family, has given you a whole people tobe your children."
"Alas! Robert," answered the monarch, "your heart is better framed forthe duties of a sovereign than mine. I see from the height at which fatehas placed me that multitude whom you call my children. I love them, Iwish them well; but they are many, and they are distant from me. Alas!even the meanest of them has some beloved being whom he can clasp tohis heart, and upon whom he can lavish the fondness of a father. But allthat a king can give to a people is a smile, such as the sun bestowson the snowy peaks of the Grampian mountains, as distant and asineffectual. Alas, Robin! our father used to caress us, and if he chidus it was with a tone of kindness; yet he was a monarch as well as I,and wherefore should not I be permitted, like him, to reclaim my poorprodigal by affection as well as severity?"
"Had affection never been tried, my liege," replied Albany, in the toneof one who delivers sentiments which he grieves to utter, "means ofgentleness ought assuredly to be first made use of. Your Grace is bestjudge whether they have been long enough persevered in, and whetherthose of discouragement and restraint may not prove a more effectualcorrective. It is exclusively in your royal power to take what measureswith the Duke of Rothsay you think will be most available to hisultimate benefit, and that of the kingdom."
"This is unkind, brother," said the King: "you indicate the painful pathwhich you would have me pursue, yet you offer me not your support intreading it."
"My support your Grace may ever command," replied Albany; "but would itbecome me, of all men on earth, to prompt to your Grace severe measuresagainst your son and heir? Me, on whom, in case of failure--which Heavenforefend!--of your Grace's family, this fatal crown might descend? Wouldit not be thought and said by the fiery March and the haughty Douglas,that Albany had sown dissension between his royal brother and the heirto the Scottish throne, perhaps to clear the way for the succession ofhis own family? No, my liege, I can sacrifice my life to your service,but I must not place my honour in danger."
"You say true, Robin.--you say very true," replied the King, hasteningto put his own interpretation upon his brother's words. "We must notsuffer these powerful and dangerous lords to perceive that there isaught like discord in the royal family. That must be avoided of allthings: and therefore we will still try indulgent measures, in hopesof correcting the follies of Rothsay. I behold sparks of hope inhim, Robin, from time to time, that are well worth cherishing. He isyoung--very young--a prince, and in the heyday of his blood. We willhave patience with him, like a good rider with a hot tempered horse. Lethim exhaust this idle humor, and no one will be better pleased withhim than yourself. You have censured me in your kindness for being toogentle, too retired; Rothsay has no such defects."
"I will pawn my life he has not," replied Albany, drily.
"And he wants not reflection as well as spirit," continued the poorking, pleading the cause of his son to his brother. "I have sent for himto attend council today, and we shall see how he acquits himself ofhis devoir. You yourself allow, Robin, that the Prince wants neithershrewdness nor capacity for affairs, when he is in the humor to considerthem."
"Doubtless, he wants neither, my liege," replied Albany, "when he is inthe humor to consider them."
"I say so," answered the King; "and am heartily glad that you agree withme, Robin, in giving this poor hapless young man another trial. He hasno mother now to plead his cause with an incensed father. That must beremembered, Albany."
"I trust," said Albany, "the course which is most agreeable to yourGrace's feelings will also prove the wisest and the best."
The Duke well saw the simple stratagem by which the King wasendeavouring to escape from the conclusions of his reasoning, andto adopt, under prete
nce of his sanction, a course of proceeding thereverse of what it best suited him to recommend. But though he saw hecould not guide his brother to the line of conduct he desired, he wouldnot abandon the reins, but resolved to watch for a fitter opportunity ofobtaining the sinister advantages to which new quarrels betwixt the Kingand Prince were soon, he thought, likely to give rise.
In the mean time, King Robert, afraid lest his brother should resumethe painful subject from which he had just escaped, called aloud to theprior of the Dominicans, "I hear the trampling of horse. Your stationcommands the courtyard, reverend father. Look from the window, and tellus who alights. Rothsay, is it not?"
"The noble Earl of March, with his followers," said the prior.
"Is he strongly accompanied?" said the King. "Do his people enter theinner gate?"
At the same moment, Albany whispered the King, "Fear nothing, theBrandanes of your household are under arms."
The King nodded thanks, while the prior from the window answered thequestion he had put. "The Earl is attended by two pages, two gentlemen,and four grooms. One page follows him up the main staircase, bearing hislordship's sword. The others halt in the court, and--Benedicite, how isthis? Here is a strolling glee woman, with her viol, preparing to singbeneath the royal windows, and in the cloister of the Dominicans, asshe might in the yard of an hostelrie! I will have her presently thrustforth."
"Not so, father," said the King. "Let me implore grace for the poorwanderer. The joyous science, as they call it, which they profess,mingles sadly with the distresses to which want and calamity condemn astrolling race; and in that they resemble a king, to whom all men cry,'All hail!' while he lacks the homage and obedient affection whichthe poorest yeoman receives from his family. Let the wanderer remainundisturbed, father; and let her sing if she will to the yeomen andtroopers in the court; it will keep them from quarrelling with eachother, belonging, as they do, to such unruly and hostile masters."
So spoke the well meaning and feeble minded prince, and the prior bowedin acquiescence. As he spoke, the Earl of March entered the hall ofaudience, dressed in the ordinary riding garb of the time, and wearinghis poniard. He had left in the anteroom the page of honour who carriedhis sword. The Earl was a well built, handsome man, fair complexioned,with a considerable profusion of light coloured hair, and brightblue eyes, which gleamed like those of a falcon. He exhibited in hiscountenance, otherwise pleasing, the marks of a hasty and irritabletemper, which his situation as a high and powerful feudal lord had givenhim but too many opportunities of indulging.
"I am glad to see you, my Lord of March," said the King, with agracious inclination of his person. "You have been long absent from ourcouncils."
"My liege," answered March with a deep reverence to the King, and ahaughty and formal inclination to the Duke of Albany, "if I have beenabsent from your Grace's councils, it is because my place has beensupplied by more acceptable, and, I doubt not, abler, counsellors. Andnow I come but to say to your Highness, that the news from the Englishfrontier make it necessary that I should return without delay to myown estates. Your Grace has your wise and politic brother, my Lord ofAlbany, with whom to consult, and the mighty and warlike Earl of Douglasto carry your counsels into effect. I am of no use save in my owncountry; and thither, with your Highness's permission, I am purposedinstantly to return, to attend my charge, as Warden of the EasternMarches."
"You will not deal so unkindly with us, cousin," replied the gentlemonarch. "Here are evil tidings on the wind. These unhappy Highlandclans are again breaking into general commotion, and the tranquillityeven of our own court requires the wisest of our council to advise, andthe bravest of our barons to execute, what may be resolved upon. Thedescendant of Thomas Randolph will not surely abandon the grandson ofRobert Bruce at such a period as this?"
"I leave with him the descendant of the far famed James of Douglas,"answered March. "It is his lordship's boast that he never puts foot instirrup but a thousand horse mount with him as his daily lifeguard, andI believe the monks of Aberbrothock will swear to the fact. Surely, withall the Douglas's chivalry, they are fitter to restrain a disorderlyswarm of Highland kerne than I can be to withstand the archery ofEngland and power of Henry Hotspur? And then, here is his Grace ofAlbany, so jealous in his care of your Highness's person, that hecalls your Brandanes to take arms when a dutiful subject like myselfapproaches the court with a poor half score of horse, the retinue ofthe meanest of the petty barons who own a tower and a thousand acresof barren heath. When such precautions are taken where there is not theslightest chance of peril--since I trust none was to be apprehended fromme--your royal person will surely be suitably guarded in real danger."
"My Lord of March," said the Duke of Albany, "the meanest of the baronsof whom you speak put their followers in arms even when they receivetheir dearest and nearest friends within the iron gate of their castle;and, if it please Our Lady, I will not care less for the King's personthan they do for their own. The Brandanes are the King's immediateretainers and household servants, and an hundred of them is but a smallguard round his Grace, when yourself, my lord, as well as the Earl ofDouglas, often ride with ten times the number."
"My Lord Duke," replied March, "when the service of the King requiresit, I can ride with ten times as many horse as your Grace has named;but I have never done so either traitorously to entrap the King norboastfully to overawe other nobles."
"Brother Robert," said the King, ever anxious to be a peacemaker, "youdo wrong even to intimate a suspicion of my Lord of March. And you,cousin of March, misconstrue my brother's caution. But hark--to divertthis angry parley--I hear no unpleasing touch of minstrelsy. You knowthe gay science, my Lord of March, and love it well. Step to yonderwindow, beside the holy prior, at whom we make no question touchingsecular pleasures, and you will tell us if the music and play be worthlistening to. The notes are of France, I think. My brother of Albany'sjudgment is not worth a cockle shell in such matters, so you, cousin,must report your opinion whether the poor glee maiden deservesrecompense. Our son and the Douglas will presently be here, and then,when our council is assembled, we will treat of graver matters."
With something like a smile on his proud brow, March withdrew into therecess of the window, and stood there in silence beside the prior, likeone who, while he obeyed the King's command, saw through and despisedthe timid precaution which it implied, as an attempt to prevent thedispute betwixt Albany and himself. The tune, which was played upon aviol, was gay and sprightly in the commencement, with a touch of thewildness of the troubadour music. But, as it proceeded, the falteringtones of the instrument, and of the female voice which accompanied it,became plaintive and interrupted, as if choked by the painful feelingsof the minstrel.
The offended earl, whatever might be his judgment in such matters onwhich the King had complimented him, paid, it may be supposed, littleattention to the music of the female minstrel. His proud heart wasstruggling between the allegiance he owed his sovereign, as well asthe love he still found lurking in his bosom for the person of his wellnatured king, and a desire of vengeance arising out of his disappointedambition, and the disgrace done to him by the substitution of MarjoryDouglas to be bride of the heir apparent, instead of his betrotheddaughter. March had the vices and virtues of a hasty and uncertaincharacter, and even now, when he came to bid the King adieu, with thepurpose of renouncing his allegiance as soon as he reached his ownfeudal territories, he felt unwilling, and almost unable, to resolveupon a step so criminal and so full of peril. It was with such dangerouscogitations that he was occupied during the beginning of the gleemaiden's lay; but objects which called his attention powerfully, as thesongstress proceeded, affected the current of his thoughts, and rivetedthem on what was passing in the courtyard of the monastery. The song wasin the Provencal dialect, well understood as the language of poetryin all the courts of Europe, and particularly in Scotland. It was moresimply turned, however, than was the general cast of the sirventes,and rather resembled the lai of a Norman minstre
l. It may be translatedthus:
The Lay of Poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The livelong day She roams from cot to castle gay; And still her voice and viol say, Ah, maids, beware the woodland way; Think on Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high; It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye. The woodland walk was cool and nigh, Where birds with chiming streamlets vie To cheer Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair; The wolves molest not paths so fair. But better far had such been there For poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold She met a huntsman fair and bold; His baldrick was of silk and gold, And many a witching tale he told To poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine Hadst thou for treasures of the mine; For peace of mind, that gift divine, And spotless innocence, were thine. Ah, poor Louise!
Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft. I know not if by force or theft, Or part by violence, part by gift; But misery is all that's left To poor Louise,
Let poor Louise some succour have! She will not long your bounty crave, Or tire the gay with warning stave; For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave For poor Louise.
The song was no sooner finished than, anxious lest the dispute should berevived betwixt his brother and the Earl of March, King Robert called tothe latter, "What think you of the minstrelsy, my lord? Methinks, as Iheard it even at this distance, it was a wild and pleasing lay."
"My judgment is not deep my lord; but the singer may dispense withmy approbation, since she seems to have received that of his Grace ofRothsay, the best judge in Scotland."
"How!" said the King in alarm; "is my son below?"
"He is sitting on horseback by the glee maiden," said March, with amalicious smile on his cheek, "apparently as much interested by herconversation as her music."
"How is this, father prior?" said the King.
But the prior drew back from the lattice. "I have no will to see, mylord, things which it would pain me to repeat."
"How is all this?" said the King, who coloured deeply, and seemed aboutto rise from his chair; but changed his mind, as if unwilling, perhaps,to look upon some unbecoming prank of the wild young prince, which hemight not have had heart to punish with necessary severity. The Earlof March seemed to have a pleasure in informing him of that of whichdoubtless he desired to remain ignorant.
"My liege," he cried, "this is better and better. The glee maiden hasnot only engaged the ear of the Prince of Scotland, as well as of everygroom and trooper in the courtyard, but she has riveted the attention ofthe Black Douglas, whom we have not known as a passionate admirer ofthe gay science. But truly, I do not wonder at his astonishment, for thePrince has honoured the fair professor of song and viol with a kiss ofapprobation."
"How!" cried the King, "is David of Rothsay trifling with a glee maiden,and his wife's father in presence? Go, my good father abbot, call thePrince here instantly. Go, my dearest brother--" And when they had bothleft the room, the King continued, "Go, good cousin of March; there willbe mischief, I am assured of it. I pray you go, cousin, and second mylord prior's prayers with my commands."
"You forget, my liege," said March, with the voice of a deeply offendedperson, "the father of Elizabeth of Dunbar were but an unfit intercessorbetween the Douglas and his royal son in law."
"I crave your pardon, cousin," said the gentle old man. "I own you havehad some wrong; but my Rothsay will be murdered--I must go myself."
But, as he arose precipitately from his chair, the poor king missed afootstep, stumbled, and fell heavily to the ground, in such a mannerthat, his head striking the corner of the seat from which he had risen,he became for a minute insensible. The sight of the accident at onceovercame March's resentment and melted his heart. He ran to the fallenmonarch, and replaced him in his seat, using, in the tenderest and mostrespectful manner, such means as seemed most fit to recall animation.
Robert opened his eyes, and gazed around with uncertainty. "What hashappened?--are we alone?--who is with us?"
"Your dutiful subject, March," replied the Earl.
"Alone with the Earl of March!" repeated the King, his still disturbedintellect receiving some alarm from the name of a powerful chief whom hehad reason to believe he had mortally offended.
"Yes, my gracious liege, with poor George of Dunbar, of whom many havewished your Majesty to think ill, though he will be found truer to yourroyal person at the last than they will."
"Indeed, cousin, you have had too much wrong; and believe me, we shallstrive to redress--"
"If your Grace thinks so, it may yet be righted," interrupted the Earl,catching at the hopes which his ambition suggested: "the Prince andMarjory Douglas are nearly related--the dispensation from Rome wasinformally granted--their marriage cannot be lawful--the Pope, who willdo much for so godly a prince, can set aside this unchristian union, inrespect of the pre-contract. Bethink you well, my liege," continuedthe Earl, kindling with a new train of ambitious thoughts, to whichthe unexpected opportunity of pleading his cause personally had givenrise--"bethink you how you choose betwixt the Douglas and me. He ispowerful and mighty, I grant. But George of Dunbar wears the keys ofScotland at his belt, and could bring an English army to the gates ofEdinburgh ere Douglas could leave the skirts of Carintable to opposethem. Your royal son loves my poor deserted girl, and hates the haughtyMarjory of Douglas. Your Grace may judge the small account in which heholds her by his toying with a common glee maiden even in the presenceof her father."
The King had hitherto listened to the Earl's argument with thebewildered feelings of a timid horseman, borne away by an impetuoussteed, whose course he can neither arrest nor direct. But the last wordsawakened in his recollection the sense of his son's immediate danger.
"Oh, ay, most true--my son--the Douglas! Oh, my dear cousin, preventblood, and all shall be as you will. Hark, there is a tumult--that wasthe clash of arms!"
"By my coronet, by my knightly faith, it is true!" said the Earl,looking from the window upon the inner square of the convent, now filledwith armed men and brandished weapons, and resounding with the clashof armour. The deep vaulted entrance was crowded with warriors at itsfarthest extremity, and blows seemed to be in the act of being exchangedbetwixt some who were endeavouring to shut the gate and others whocontended to press in.
"I will go instantly," said the Earl of March, "and soon quell thissudden broil. Humbly I pray your Majesty to think on what I have had theboldness to propose."
"I will--I will, fair cousin," said the King, scarce knowing to what hepledged himself; "do but prevent tumult and bloodshed!"