Tales From Scottish Ballads Part 8

Still he knelt on, peering eagerly into the darkness. At last his eyes grew bright and keen, for he saw a shadowy form come floating through the air, driven by the wind. He knew now that his charm had worked, and that this was his familiar spirit--the spirit over whom he had most control--who had come in the form of a great black horse, with flaming eyes, and flowing mane, to carry him over the sea to France.

With one bound he flew through the window, and alighted on its back.

"Now woe betide thee, Diabolus," he said, "if thou fliest not swiftly.

For I must be in Paris by daylight to-morrow."

The huge black horse shook its mane, and snorted fiercely, as if it understood, and without more ado it flew on its way, its uncanny black-cloaked rider seated on its back.

As soon as they had disappeared, the storm died away, and the moon rose, and the little stars shone out over Oakwood Tower as clearly and quietly as if there had never been a cloud in the sky. Meanwhile Sir Michael Scott and his huge black charger were flying over hills, and valleys, and rivers, in the darkness. They even flew over the sea itself, and never halted until the day broke, and there, far below, lay the city of Paris, dimly seen in the gray morning light.

In the King's Palace the lackeys were hardly awake. They gazed at one another in astonishment when the heavy iron knocker on the great gate fell with a knock that echoed through the courtyard.

"Who dares to knock so loudly at this early hour?" asked the fat old porter in great indignation. "Whoever it be, I trow he may e'en wait outside till I have broken my fast."

But before he had done speaking the knocker fell once more, and there was something so commanding in the sound that the little man hurried off, grumbling to himself, to get the key.

"Beshrew me if it doth not sound like a messenger from some great king,"

said a man-at-arms who was standing by, and the porter's heart misgave him at the thought that perhaps by his tardiness he had got himself into trouble.

But when he opened the great door, instead of the company of armed men whom he dreaded to see, there was only a solitary rider, m.u.f.fled in a great black cloak, and wearing a hairy cap drawn down over his face, seated on an enormous black horse. The stranger's dress was so outlandish, and his horse so big, that the porter crossed himself.

"Surely 'tis the Evil One himself," he muttered; and when the lackeys heard his words, they crowded round the doorway. They, too, were puzzled at Sir Michael's appearance, and began to laugh and jeer at him.

"He is like a hooded crow," cried one.

"Nay, 'tis an old wife in her husband's clothes," shouted another.

"Surely the cloak belonged to Noah," cried a third.

But they started back in dismay when the m.u.f.fled figure pushed up his cap, and demanded an audience of the King.

"I come from the King of Scotland," he said haughtily, "and his business brooks no delay."

A shout of laughter greeted his demand.

"Thou a messenger from the King of Scotland!" they cried. "A likely story, forsooth! The King of Scotland sends not beggars, in old rusty suits, as his amba.s.sadors. No, no, my good fellow, thou askest us to believe too much. Whatever thou art, thou art not a king's messenger."

"What!" cried Sir Michael. "Ye refuse to do my bidding! and all because I am not decked out in crimson and gold, and ridest alone without a retinue. Well, ye shall see that it is not always wise to judge of a man by his outward appearance. Make way there." And without wasting any more words, he leaped from his horse, and, throwing its bridle over a pillar, he strode right through the middle of them, and made his way to the King's private apartment, without even waiting to be announced.

Now the King of France was accustomed to be treated with great ceremony, and when this dark-robed man strode into his bed-chamber, and held out the parchment packet to him, demanding an instant answer, he was very indignant, and refused to open it.

"Thou sayest that thou comest from the King of Scots," he said. "Well, I believe thee not. If thou wert Sir Michael Scott, as thou sayest thou art, thou wouldst have come with an armed escort, as befitted thy rank and station. Therefore begone, Sirrah, and count thyself happy that I have not had thee thrown into one of the palace dungeons, as a punishment for thy insolence."

"By my troth," cried Sir Michael angrily, "if this is the way thou wouldst answer my master's demands, I trow I can soon bring thee to a better frame of mind."

Without waiting for an answer, he flung down the parchment packet on the floor, and strode out of the room in the same way that he had entered, leaving the angry King gazing after him in astonishment.

"The fellow is mad," he cried to the n.o.bles who stood round. "See to it that he is shut up until he comes to his senses."

But Sir Michael had already reached the courtyard, and pa.s.sed through the great door to where his horse was waiting outside. He lowered his voice and spoke gently to the mighty beast.

"Stamp, my steed, and show the varlets that we are better than we seem to be," he said. And at his bidding the gigantic creature lifted one of its forefeet, and brought it down with all its might on the pavement.

In an instant it was as though an earthquake were pa.s.sing over the city.

The great towers of the Palace which frowned overhead rocked and swayed, and all the bells on a hundred church steeples chimed and jangled, until the air was thick with the sound of them.

The King and his courtiers were very much alarmed at these strange events, but they did not like to own that it was the mysterious stranger who was the cause of them. All the same, the King called a hurried council, and when the n.o.bles were a.s.sembled, and seated in their places in the great hall, he opened the parchment packet, and took out the papers which it contained. When he had read them his face flushed with anger. The King of Scotland's demands were very urgent, and moreover they were stated in no uncertain language, and as he considered that he was a much more powerful monarch than King Alexander, he did not like to be dictated to.

"Ah," he said, "so my Lord of Scotland lays down his own terms with a high hand. Methinks he must learn that this is not the way to obtain favours from France."

"Ay, so in good sooth he must learn," repeated the n.o.bles in one breath.

"And in order that the lesson be made plain, we advise that his messenger be cast into prison, and that no notice be taken of his requests."

"Your advice pleases me well," said the King. "Command that the officers seize the fellow at once. Certs, he may think himself lucky that We permit his head to remain on his shoulders."

The command was given, but Sir Michael had been growing more and more impatient that no more notice seemed to be taken of his errand, and when the officers of the guard appeared, and, instead of handing him the French King's answer, as he had expected, laid their hands on him to drag him off to prison, his anger knew no bounds.

"What," he cried, "doth the King still refuse to listen? By my troth, he shall rue the delay," and once more he whispered in the black horse's ear, and once more the mighty creature lifted its great forefoot and brought it down with a crash on the pavement.

The effect was even more terrible than it had been before.

In an instant great thunder clouds rolled up from the horizon, and a fearful storm broke over the city. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and strange and weird figures were seen floating in the air.

The great bells which hung in the steeple of the great Cathedral of Notre Dame gave one awful crash, and then burst in two, while the towers and pinnacles of the splendid church came tumbling down in the darkness.

The very foundations of the Palace were shaken, and rocked to and fro, till everyone within it was thrown to the ground. The King himself was hurled from his throne of state, and was so badly hurt that he cried aloud with pain and fear.

As for the courtiers, they lay about the floor in all directions, paralysed with terror, crossing themselves, and calling on the Saints to help them. They were so terrified that not one of them thought of going to their Royal Master's aid.

The King was the first to recover himself. "Alack! alack!" he groaned, rising to his feet. "Woe betide the day that brought this fellow to our land! Warlock or wizard, I know not which, but one of them he must be, for no mere mortal man could have had the power to work this harm to our city."

While he was speaking a loud trampling of feet was heard outside the great hall, and all the lackeys came tumbling in, pell-mell, without waiting to do their reverence, just as if the King had been any common man.

"O Sire," they cried, "grant the fellow anything and everything he asks, and let him be gone. He threatens that he will cause this awful beast to stamp yet once again, and, if he does, the whole land of France will be ruined. If your Majesty but knew what harm hath been wrought in the city already!"

"Yes, let him begone," wailed the courtiers, slowly beginning to pick themselves up from the floor, and feeling their bones to see if any of them were broken.

And, indeed, the King was nothing loth to grant their request, for he felt that if the mysterious stranger were allowed to stand at the door much longer his whole kingdom would be tumbling to pieces about his ears. Better far that the King of Scotland should be satisfied, even although it was sorely against his inclinations.

With trembling fingers he picked up the papers and once more read them.

Then he wrote an answer promising to fulfil all the Scotch King's demands and he sealed up the packet, and flung it to the nearest lackey.

"Give it to him and bid him begone," he cried, and a sigh of relief went round the hall, as a minute later the man returned with the tidings that the great black horse and its outlandish rider had vanished.

"Heaven grant that when next my Cousin of Scotland sends an amba.s.sador, he choose another man," said the King, and there was not a soul in all the palace who did not breathe a fervent "Amen."

Meanwhile, Sir Michael and his wonderful steed were speeding along on their homeward way. They had crossed the north of France, and were flying over the Straits of Dover, when the creature began to think that it might work a little mischief on its own account.

It had taken a sudden fancy to remain in France for a while, and it thought how nice it would be if it could pitch its master, whom it rather feared than loved, over its head into the water, and so be rid of him for ever.

It knew that as long as it was under his spell, it had to do his bidding, but it knew also that there were certain words which could break the spell even of a wizard, and it began to wonder if it would be possible to make Sir Michael p.r.o.nounce one of these.