The Three Perils of Man Volume Ii Part 2

Every time that Charlie looked out at the mule, he testified a sort of inward satisfaction that his own trusty steed was not brought into the same sc.r.a.pe, and sundry times said, "Gude faith, Corby kend better sense than coming into sic a place as this is. He's as weel off down wi' the auld miller; He'll get some pluffins o' seeds or dust, poor fallow. An they gie him but water, I'm no feared for him, for there's plenty o'

meat yonder,--but he'll never do if they let him want water."

About two o'clock in the morning the seneschal entered with a light, but had the precaution to lock the wooden door before he opened the iron one. The prisoners had sat down on the floor, and were leaning on one another; and, dismal as their lodging was, some of them had fallen sound asleep. Delany was leaning on the friar's breast, and the poet had laid himself down behind her, and covered her with his mantle. The rest were huddled together, so that they appeared to be lying above one another; but all, or most of them, set up their heads at the entrance of the steward.

Tam was the first to address him. "What's come o' our supper, goodman, that you are coming toom-handed? Do you no think it is time your guests had something to eat, or hae ye naething either to eat or drink in this great gousty castle? I dinna care what ye may think, or what you may say; but in my opinion you and your master baith are naething but twa ill-bred unmannerly n.i.g.g.ards."

The seneschal grinned disdain, and clenched his teeth in wrath. He was about to reply, but all their tongues were loosed on him at once, some complaining of one thing some of another, and the friar more particularly of the treatment of his beast. All, however, ended with a request for meat.

"No," said Gourlay; "we have no meat for spies and forayers. A halter is the only guerdon we bestow on such dogs. I want this fair maiden, and for the rest of you"--He finished the sentence with a sneer and a point with his finger to the bones; and seizing the maid by the shoulder, he dragged her toward the door.

"Softly sir, and if you please," said the poet, speaking in pure iambics, and seizing the bars of the iron door before the steward and his prize. "We have indeed this maiden brought, from distant camp and knight renowned, unto the master of this house; and to none else we give her up: No, not to thee, nor arm of flesh."

As the poet said these words, he bristled up, and faced the steward at the door, to keep him back; but the carl gave him such a blow on the temples that he staggered and fell. The friar then interposed, and though he was a strong and powerful man, the irascible steward plied his blows so fast and so hard about his bare pate, that he was also overthrown. The maiden screamed; and the old incendiary was within a hairbreadth of having her outside of the iron door, when she would have been wholly out of the power of her friends and protectors. But at that critical instant Charlie Scott seized the steward by the arm, never doubting but that he would twist him like a willow; but he was mistaken. The churl seized him by the throat with his left hand, with such prodigious force that Charlie deemed him to have the strength of six common men, and lending him a blow on the face, he made his mouth and nose to gush blood. Charlie returned the salute with interest, yet the steward stood his ground, and a most desperate struggle ensued, in which victory appeared doubtful. Gibby perceiving his friend and champion's jeopardy, drew out his sword, and was going deliberately to stick the old ragam.u.f.fin behind, had not Charlie called out furiously to him to forbear.

"Keep back your whittle, you cowardly dog," cried he, "else I'll cut you into a thousand pieces. I never yet took odds against a man, nor shall I now, unless I am fighting wi' the devil. In that case I may measure my backbreadth on the floor. But be he the devil, be he d.i.c.ken, I shall gie him ae squeeze."

Charlie with that closed with his dangerous opponent, and gave him such a squeeze that he made his back and ribs to crash. The steward twisted his face into the most hideous contortions, and exerted his whole force to extricate himself, but Charlie brought him to the ground, falling upon him with all his ponderous weight. It was among the bones of the gigantic skeleton that the two combatants fell; and Charlie, deeming that he had given his foe enough for once, and a little startled to find himself among the rattling bones, began to unloose his grasp, and said in a hurried way, "Billy, I'll learn you how to strike fo'k on the gab and the brigg o' the nose sae rashly!" and was getting up as fast as he could, when the steward gave him such a blow with the thigh-bone of the dead man, that he had very nigh brought him down again. If Charlie's bonnet had not had a bar or two of steel, that blow would have shattered his skull. As it was it stunned him a little, and made the water start into his eyes; and he had just recollection and strength sufficient to secure his adversary's arms, by holding them down, so that he might not repeat the blow. Yet, with all this Charlie's temper was not to be ruffled. He cared not how often or how much he fought, but he never fought in wrath.

"Gude faith, my man," said he, "but ye're no nice o' your chapping sticks! and foul fa' me gin ye dinna lay them gayan freely on. But I dinna blame ye. A wight man never wants a weapon; only come that gate again an ye dare."

The steward growled and cursed, trying all that he could to throw Charlie from above him, and master him by sheer strength. He had no idea of being overpowered by a single arm, nor was he wont to fear half a dozen, but he had never met with the like of Charlie Scott before. He might as well have tried to remove the hill of Aikwood; so he was obliged to succ.u.mb, which he did with a very bad grace; nor would he either abate one inch in his demand of having the damsel unconditionally, or grant one request that they desired of him.

"Why, then, there's nae help for it, honest man," said Charlie; "I hae ye firm and fast, and what ye winna gie us we maun e'en tak at our ain hand. Honest friar, come you here, and tak' a' the keys o' the castle aff this camstary hallanshaker, and we'll e'en help oursels to sic as we can get. I sal tak care that he sanna move a spauld against you, and as for his tongue we maun just let it wag."

The rage of the seneschal, when he saw himself robbed of the keys of the castle, is not to be described: he cursed and raged in such a manner, that, even after the friar had both doors fairly open, Charlie durst not move from off him, or let him go, for fear of some deadly scaith.

"I dinna ken what I'm to do wi' this deil's buckie," said he; "he's like the tod's whelps, that grow aye the langer the waur."

"I wad gie him a settler," said Tam.

"He brings me in mind o' a barrel o' beer, fuming and fuffing. He'll no settle till he be pierced," said Gibbie.

The friar then took up his bulky baggage, and walked out with that and the light, meaning to bring his mule's halter wherewith to bind the seneschal; but Charlie, making his escape from him, locked him in,--and thus were our messengers left in the full and free possession of the castle of Aikwood.

CHAPTER II.

The lady looked o'er the castle wa', She looked both pale and wan; For the door was locked, and the lord within, He was no Christian man.

_Song of May Marley._

When the steward saw that he was fairly mastered, and that neither strength nor words could avail him ought, he remained where he was in sullen silence. He had got no orders from the Master to bring him the maid, but it had come into his head to go and take her to himself, and he had nearly effected his purpose. What might have been the consequence of his success, it is painful even to calculate; but he was thus prevented, though not without blood and wounds.

The guests now traversed all the lower apartments of the castle, there being neither bolt nor bar to interrupt them; but for all the retinue that they had seen at their arrival, there was neither the appearance of man nor beast remaining. The large hall did not seem to have been occupied for a long period. The shelves were empty, and there were neither dishes nor fragments of meat of any description; and every thing within as well as without the castle had the appearance of desolation.

At length they came to a door, from the bottom of which they perceived some light issuing, of which they were glad, as they were afraid the steward's lamp would fail them and leave them in darkness. Deeming themselves on ticklish ground, they consulted in a whisper before venturing in. Charlie Scott was quite a fearless man among his fellow creatures, but all kinds of supernatural agency pressed heavily on his conscience. Therefore, in the present instance, he dissuaded his comrades from entering, with all his eloquence.

"Gude faith, callans, keep back off that place. It is may-be the warlock's room; and gin he should be in the mids o' some o' his cantrips at this eiry time o' the morning, gude sauf us! it is a question what might be the upshot. Na, na, friar; I tell ye, bide back, it is best to let sleeping dogs lye, for fear they get up and bite you."

But the friar's creed differed from that of Charlie, and he went dauntlessly forward, putting him aside with his hand, and saying at the same time, that he would "surely go in unto him as with a front of bra.s.s or of iron;" that sooner or later the time and the season of their meeting must come, and why should he be dismayed?

The friar then opened the door with caution, and entered, followed by all his a.s.sociates, Charlie Scott bringing up the rear, and whispering to those next him in a tremulous voice,--"Od that body's mad! He'll lead us into some ill-faur'd snapper. Dinna be ower rash, callans. Just look afore ye."

Instead of the great enchanter, however, they found only an old woman, so busily engaged with something on the fire, that she scarcely deigned to regard them as they entered. She had a wooden tube, like the barrel of a gun, with which she blew up her fire; and she kept blowing at it till the flame came above the lip of her caldron, and let her see into it; for she had no lamp, nor any other light save that which came from the fire.

When she had made it blaze thus high, she spoke to herself, and without taking her mouth from the tube; saying some words to the following purport:--

"Sotter, sotter, my wee pan, To the spirit gin ye can; When the sc.u.m turns blue, And the blood bells through, There's something aneath that will change the man."

When Charlie saw her unchristian-like face, and heard her mumbling these horrid words through her long hollow tube, he turned his back and fled, taking shelter in a void entrance, to which he was led by some light that fell into it from the rays of the moon. Full hardly was he then bested, for he still deemed that he heard the witch's rites at a distance; and the faint ray of the moon through a narrow aperture made the rest of the s.p.a.ce appear so shadowy and dim, that Charlie saw he was in a dangerous situation, and actually began to fancy he beheld a face in the dark staring at him, and still coming nearer. It was no time to stand there; so he fled with all his might. But in his dismay he lost every kind of aim, or consideration whither he was going, and at once stumbled on the undermost step of a stone stair. Thinking the apparition he had seen was by that time hard upon him, and no other way that he knew of open for flight, he rose and pursued his course straight up stairs, in a state of perturbation hardly to be accounted for. The first landing place that he came to he ran himself against a door, and not finding farther entrance he faced about, and, leaning over the ball.u.s.ter, he set up such a yell as never was before breathed from lungs. It is true he neither heard nor saw aught of the apparition; but Charlie was a sensible man, and he was certain it might be there for any thing that he knew; so he set up the same kind of cry that he was wont to do when he lost his neighbours in a mist, or in a night foray, only about ten times or so louder.

"Hilloa! Tam Craik! friar! hilloa! d--n ye a'; what for winna ye come wi' a light?"

Charlie was now at such a distance from his comrades, who were still in the witch's small apartment, and the echoes of the huge void castle so confused the sounds, that they took the cries of their captain for the rus.h.i.+ng of a whirlwind roaring through the crannies of the castle, and paid no regard to them. No state could be more deplorable than that in which muckle Charlie Scott was now placed. To have returned down the stair would have been meeting the devil face to face; or, as Charlie much better expressed it, "to hae dabbed nebs wi' the deil."

He had therefore no other resource than to bellow out for a.s.sistance; and seeing none approach, he said aloud in great agony of spirit, "Lord, gin I were but on Corby's back again! ay, though it were in the wildest glen o' a' the Cheviots, and the Eskdale souple o'er my shoulder," (that was the cant name of Charlie's tremendous sword;) "I might then work my way: But sic a place as this I saw never! Od, an there be lugs within the wa's o' the house I shall either gar them hear or crack them.

Hilloa!"

Not satisfied with giving yelloch after yelloch, as he termed his loud cries, he flew to every door on the landing place, laid on it with his fists, and kicked it with his foot, calling at each of them in the same key as before, "Is there ony body here?" He at last prevailed: one door was opened, and he was admitted inside. But, alas for our gallant yeoman! he only by this transition got out of one exceedingly bad sc.r.a.pe into a worse.

These casual separations of _dramatis personae_ are exceedingly unfortunate for the story-teller who aims at conciseness and brevity; because it is impracticable to bring them all on at the same time. A story is like a waggoner and his horses travelling out the king's highway, his machine loaden with various bales of rich merchandise. He goes smoothly and regularly on, till he comes to the bottom of a steep ascent, where he is obliged to leave a great proportion of his loading, and first carry one part of it to the top of the hill, then another, and then another, which r.e.t.a.r.ds him grievously on his way. So is it with the writer of a true history such as this; and the separation of parties is as a hill on his onward path.

It is otherwise with dramatic representations, and in these the authors have a great advantage. Let their characters separate as they will, or be engaged as they will, they can at any time, with the greatest ease, be brought together on the stage. The one enters from the one side, and the other from the other, and we do not much concern ourselves how or whence they come, taking it for granted that they are there, and that is enough. It is rather delightful to see a hero, in whom one had begun to take some interest, and whom he supposed to be far distant, exposed to dangers abroad and perfidy at home, all at once stalk majestically in from the side scene, and take his place before our eyes. It gives the heart a great deal of relief to see and know that he is there in person to stand up for his own injured rights. But in our own case there is no such expedient. Like the waggoner, we must return from the top of the hill, and bring up those of our characters that are left behind. At present we must return from the top of the great stair-case in Aikwood castle, into the housekeeper's cell on the ground floor.

Charlie had made his escape almost un.o.bserved; those next to him weening that he had only drawn a little back to keep a due distance between the witch and him, so that they pressed forward to the scene without regarding him.

The crone continued her orgies, blowing her fire one while, and again stirring the liquid in the caldron; then making it run from the end of a stick, that she might note its state of gelidity. The friar addressed her in his usual stile of sonorous eastern eloquence; but she only regarded him by a slight stare, and a motion with her hand, as if she wished him and his group to disappear. She had taken them for spirits that she had conjured up, and perhaps thought they were come before the time; for in mumbling to herself, they at one time heard her saying, "So you are all there, are you? Well, I shall find you work. Sotter, sotter my wee pan."

This scene went on for a considerable time without any variety, the witch attending solely to her caldron and her fire; the friar standing before the flame, and Tam and Gibbie, with their long kipper noses, peeping over his shoulder. The other three were behind these; the poet with his arm round Delany's waist, and the beautiful face of the boy Elias, the very picture of amazement personified, appeared below the friar's right arm. Scarcely could such another group be formed for the painter's eye. Here sat the witch, haggard and wild, close at the one cheek of the fire, watching over her caldron and infernal morsel with the utmost eagerness. There stood the gruff friar, with the keys of the castle in his right hand, and the dim lamp in his left, raised above his head; so that, from the two groups of light, the marked features of amazement could be distinctly traced; which, with the faint and yellowish hue of their complexions, made the whole highly picturesque.

The witch continued her occupation; till, at length holding up her stick to note the consistence of her jelly, that appeared like boiling blood and water mixed, there was something in its appearance that confounded her. She dropt both her tube and her stirring stick among the ashes, and turned about staring wildly at our group. She appeared as if examining their features one by one in search of some one whose presence she missed; and perceiving the boy's face below the friar's arm, she fixed her eyes on that, cowering down at the same time like a cat that is about to spring on its prey. Then, rising half up, she moved toward him in a stooping posture, turning always her face first to the one side and then to the other, until her nose came almost in contact with the boy's, on which he slipped his face out of her sight behind the friar's back.

Observing next the two droll faces over the friar's two shoulders, she appeared delighted with the view; and letting her jaws fall down, she smiled at it, but it was rather a gape than a smile. She then tottered again towards the fire, rocking her body and wagging her head as before, repeating the while this unmeaning phrase:

"Niddy, noddy, niddy, noddy.

Three heads on ae body."

Haply she deemed all the three faces she had seen belonged to the friar, and was happy at witnessing such a monstrous appearance.

Sitting down on her hams as before, she seized on her two implements, and began to blow and stir for about the s.p.a.ce of a minute, testifying great impatience to see how her spell proceeded. But the moment that she held up a part of her morsel on the stick, and let it drip off, she perceived that all was wrong, and that her guests were the reverse of those she expected. As soon as she looked at the liquor, she uttered a horrible scream, while every joint of her body shook with fury; and, lifting a wooden ladle that lay by her side with devilish nimbleness, she splashed the boiling liquid on the faces and bodies of our amazed compeers.

"Deil be in the auld jaud's fingers!" cried Tam: "Gin she hasna jaupit out baith my een!"

"I have indeed given my cheek to the firebrand!" said the friar; "and the skin of my forehead hath departed from me!"