Part 13

Just as I was daily getting stronger, I received another shock which had, I think, even more effect on me than the other. One morning there came Sir Thomas down from the castle, and I could see that he was full to the teeth with news, for he walked with great confidence, and swung a little stick made of two twisted stems of ivy which I had given him, very quaint and curious.

'It is all done with now,' he said, as soon as ever he had gotten himself seated; 'there are to be no more ill times in Carrick, and kinsmen's blood shall not flow any more in the West. John Mure of Auchendrayne and I have settled it all between us. His son and apparent heir, James, is to marry to-morrow with my daughter.'

I stared at him, stunned and dumbfounded.

'Ay,' he said, 'it is short notice, but young folks, ye ken--and my daughter would not hear of a great wedding; only what was fitting and plain.'

'Your daughter?' I said, steadying myself, though my heart was like to break, for I thought all my friends were to leave me together.

'Ay, Marjorie,'said Sir Thomas, 'she is a quiet like lass and speaks little, but when I put the matter of the marriage to her, she said only, "If it will staunch the feud, I am ready to marry whomsoever you will--Sir Thomas Tode, gin you like!" But that was only her daffing, for, as we all know, Sir Thomas is married already. And even if he were not, marrying him would be neither here nor there in the matter of the Cassillis and Bargany feuds.'

For my good master never saw far into a whin bush all his days, though accounted by most to be a wise man.

On the morrow, which was the day of the ill-faured wedding, I put on my complete accoutrements for the first time. I had Dom Nicholas saddled, for I felt strong once more, and greatly desired to be away from the place. So I stood by the gate as the party from Auchendrayne came in, and saluted them, as was my duty. Then I was riding away alone down by the shore road, when I heard in the distance the sound as of an approaching cavalcade.

Bridles were jingling, stirrups clicking, and spearheads making points of light, while the white foam went blowing back from the hard-ridden horses. When they rode up, I saw that they were as trenchant a set of blades as ever a man might wish to set eyes on. And at the head of them rode young Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany.

So, not knowing whether they came in peace or war, I set myself upright on the back of Dom Nicholas, who was of so great freshness with kicking of his heels in the park, that he was ill to keep at the stand. Nevertheless, stand I did in the midst of the outer gate, so that I should know whether they came in peace or war, and to have time to cry to the porter, even if they rode roughshod over me.

And though I was weak, and knew not what might happen, it was a joy untellable to be somebody again, and to gar men reckon with me.

But, being pale, I fear I made a poor figure to stand in the gate and withhold so many. For during my captivity the hair on my face had begun to grow in a manner that was surprising, and proved a constant trouble to me to keep shaven.

'Halt!' I cried to them. 'How come you to Culzean--in peace or boding in fear of war?'

'But to wish the Tutor luck on his birthday in passing,' said Gilbert, 'and then to ride on to the help of John, Earl of Cassillis.'

So, much astonished at what had befallen, and especially at his last saying, I fell in behind him, and the word was given to ride forward.

But Bargany called me to come beside him, and asked me of my health. I replied that I had been long time sick of a wound, but that I was now recovered, and above all things desired action, being sicker far of the doing of nothing.

Whereat he laughed, and said, 'Be cheerful, and if ye want blows, I will ask the loan of you as a hostage from your master.'

Then, seeing the stir about the doors, and the serving men running every way with flagons and dishes, he said, ''Tis a great stir for naught but the Tutor's birthday. What may be the occasion?'

Then, with my eyes secretly upon his, I told Gilbert Kennedy that the Lady Marjorie was to be married that day to James Mure of Auchendrayne. I never saw a man's countenance change so suddenly. The fire sprang to his eyes, and died out again like dead tinder. The heart blood flushed hot to his face, and, returning, left him pale as a maid in a decline.

Then I minded how I had taken the matter myself. Yet I was sorrier for him, because I knew that he had loved her longer and better than I. But nevertheless he tossed his sword hand in air, and cried, 'We are in time for a bridal, brave lads; this is more than we bargained for. Let us go greet the bride and wish her joy.'

And this I grant was a better way than sulking and self-pity in the greenwood, which would have been mine that day, had I been left alone.

With that he put the horses to the gallop, and we rode through the narrow pass of the drawbridge by two and two. The roar of the horses passing over was as the roar of the sea when the storm drives up from the west on the Craigs of Culzean.

As we came by the corner of the terrace, I saw him give a look at that window of the White Tower which faced to the landward. It had been the Lady Marjorie's, and now was to be hers no more. Then I saw him look down on the fretting sea, as it tumbled white on the pebbles and rocks by the Cove. And I knew why he looked there, and I knew more also, for I remembered what I had heard Marjorie say after he had gone clanking down the shore in his anger and pride.

Yet all the while Bargany rode light-hand upon his bridle-rein, the pride of his horsemen clattering behind him, gay with the music of hoofs and the dance of red and white pennons.

I wondered not that, as they said, he took the eyes of ladies wherever he went. So that the Queen's bower-women quarrelled concerning him, till Her Majesty said, 'I shall have no peace till I take him for myself. But what would James say if young Bargany were to sing "John, come kiss me now," beneath my bower window?'

But more than all ladies' favours I envied him such a brave repair of horse to follow him. For Culzean was too poor, and the Lord of Cassillis too near the bone to keep any such array of mounted gentlemen.

For hackbuttmen, and footmen with spears, were more to our Earl's mind, being better in the time of war, and a deal cheaper in the days of peace--which even in these troubled years were so many more than the days of fighting.

As we rode up, and the Bargany squadron halted with a great spattering of sand and tossing of the heads of horses, the wedding folk were just coming out. First of all there issued forth the bride, our Marjorie, the Marjorie that had been ours, on James Mure's arm--he that now was her husband. And behind them came the Minister of Maybole and Sir Thomas, walking together very caigy[#] and jocose.

[#] Friendly.

But Marjorie's face was like stone, though the bitterness of death overpast was gone from it. I trust mine eyes may never see such a look of reproach and pain in any human face, as was in hers when she saw Gilbert Kennedy sitting his horse in front of the squadron, upon the gravel stones from the seashore that were laid before the castle steps. But Gilbert only saluted her, and cried aloud as was customary, 'Luck to the wedding and health to the bride!'

Then ran Sir Thomas to him and took his hand, bubbling over with kindliness and pleasure.

'The feud is staunched indeed, when I see Bargany once more in peace at the house of Culzean, even as my good friend the Laird of Auchendrayne said it would be. What might be your kindly errand? And will ye not light off your beasts and bide to feast with us.'

'I cannot,' said Bargany. 'The Earl of Cassillis is besieged in the house of Inch by the Lairds of Galloway, and I ride to his assistance.'

Then she that had been Marjorie Kennedy turned to him, and said, 'And will ye indeed consent to staunch the feud for John Mure's sake, that would not do it for mine?'

Which seemed to me a strange mode of speech to be spoken in the hearing of a husband on his wedding day. But I had forgotten that none held the key to the utterance saving Gilbert Kennedy and myself.

'The staunching of the feud is neither yours nor mine, Lady Marjorie,' said Bargany, bending very gently toward her, 'but I cannot bide still in my house at the town of Ayr while a Kennedy of Cassillis--my enemy though he be--is dared, outfaced, and threatened by a pack of Galloway lairds.'

'Are they, then, ill men and far in the wrong?' said she.

'On the contrary, they are good men and in the right. But that does not hinder me from standing for my name and house against every other, even though that house be foredoomed to fall, because it is divided against itself.'

Then he turned to my master, saying to him, 'For this one time, and as a pledge to my Lord the Earl John that I mean his good, will you permit Launcelot, your esquire, to ride in my company--he that hath so oft ridden well against my folk?'

'Gladly,' said Sir Thomas, 'but the lad has been ill.'

'It is no far ride, and the boy needs but change of air and foes of mettle to strengthen his sword-arm against.'

So in a trice I was ready to follow my house's enemy.

As I turned I saw John Mure of Auchendrayne standing, looking in the dignity of his white hair most like a saint, though contrariwise I knew him to be that which I will not name. I heard him say to my master, 'Ye see, did not I tell you? This marriage brings all good things already. And this is but the beginning.'

'Nay,' replied Sir Thomas, 'indeed it is most gratifying and well done of you. Who would have believed a week ago that to-day Bargany would have saddled his steeds and mounted his men to ride to the succour of John, Earl of Cassillis?'

And I saw my good, simple master raise his hand and clap Auchendrayne upon the shoulder. Then, for very hate and loathing, I turned away. Even as I did so I saw the eye of John Mure on the watch, and I knew that he understood. For his glance was like a rapier-thrust when your enemy means killing.

Ere the horsemen turned to ride away, Marjorie came down the steps to where Bargany sat his charger, and slipping a ring off her finger she handed it up to him.

'For your Isobel Stewart!' she said.

And though I saw it not, I am as certain as if I had seen the crest and posy upon it that the ring was his own, one which he had given her in some past day when they had far other hopes than to part in this fashion on her wedding morning.

Then, with a quick cry of command and the gallant clatter of hoofs, we rode away. And that was the last parting in life of Gilbert and Marjorie Kennedy, who had been lovers ever since they were bairns, and had linked themselves together for man and wife with chains of yellow gowans upon the braes of Culzean.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*A GALLOWAY RAID*

As you may suppose, it was no grief, but the reverse, for me to ride away with Bargany to the South, and leave behind me the drear house of Culzean upon that dismal day of doom and sacrifice. Nell Kennedy I saw nothing of, though, as I learned in the aftertime, she saw me. For she too had fled from the house, being unwilling to have aught to do with such a deed of cruel wrong as the marrying of her sister, that was the flower of the West, to an oafish lout like James Mure.

'Not but what our Maidie can stand up for herself. And if she gets not her own way, sorry am I even for James Mure!' said she.

It was from the branches of a thick plane that Nell watched us ride away to the house of the Inch, and noted me as I cantered by Bargany's side. Of which, had I known it then, I should have been fain. For, wild ettercap as she was, I now counted Nell Kennedy almost the only friend I had left.

And as we went, Bargany told me of the Earl's message brought him by James Young, the Minister of Colmonel. And in especial how he had telled a great lie to win through the men of Galloway--in which sin it was then uncommon for a minister to be found out.

'Not but that my heart is with the lads of Galloway,' said Bargany, 'but after all, Gibby Crack-tryst is the first of the Kennedies, and I shall not see him put down, whatever be his deserts, by Garthland and the Sheriff. If Cassillis is to go down, Bargany shall go with it; and all Galloway, twice told, shall not accomplish that!'

Although I felt chilled by the dull, unheartsome day we had left behind us, I can tell you I thought no little of myself to be thus riding in comradeship with Bargany at my elbow. For though I had so ridden with the Earl once or twice, yet I counted ten times more on Bargany. Forty horsemen were of our company, and mine was the weariest body among them all. For it was my first long day, after my sickness with harness on my back, and pulses beat where my wounds had been, so that I feared that they would break out afresh, and I have to be left behind.

At last we stayed our steeds at a small tenant's house called Craigaffie, a little way from the Inch, where a vassal of Bargany's dwelt. Him we sent to meet the Earl and tell him that we were there--also to bid the Galloway men come to an arbitrament, if so they would. For they had enclosed the Earl back and front in his own house of the Inch, so that none could pass--save indeed one that knew the byeways and outgates as did this Peter Neilson of Craigaffie.

Presently there came back from the Earl a message most piteous, for he knew the men of Galloway had him fast; and he was afraid for the safety of the rents and mails that he had with him in silver and minted gold--far more, to do him justice, than he was anxious about his own skin. Bargany was his dearly-beloved cousin, his eame, his saviour. He would keep friendship with him more than with any friend he had all the days of his life, for this notable deliverance he had wrought. He was to come and put himself in the Earl's hands after he had sent the lords of Galloway about their business. The Earl's plighted word would be his security.

At this Bargany gave a smile, and set his thumb over his shoulder at the forty swords that were riding behind him.

'These,' said he, 'will be the best security that John, Earl of Cassillis, will not harm me when I go to visit him in his castle of the Inch.'

It was no long season before there came MacDowall of Garthland and Sheriff Agnew to represent the men of Galloway, and never in my life, save when I went as herald to the great house of Kerse, did I see such an exchange of high civilities. It was as the meeting of heroes, when compared to the double-dealing and deceit of our break-tryst Earl. More than ever, I wished that I had been born on the other side of the score. But it hadna bin to be.

Agnew the Sheriff was a tall man, with dark hair quickly frosting to grey, a hawk's nose, a long arm good at laying on, and a biting tongue which he knew well when to hold. The Laird of Garthland, on the other hand, was red of beard and brown of hair, altogether a man well set, beginning also to be well-stomached with good feeding and sleeping on benches of the afternoons.

It was Garthland who saluted first, for he came of the oldest race in Galloway--save, perhaps, it may be, the MacCullochs of Ardwell. But the eagle-nosed Sheriff was the chief spokesman.

'Greeting courteously to you, Bargany,' he said. 'This is a pleasure unexpected. Over on our poor shire-side, the erne of the hills neither mixes nor mells with the quarrels of the carrion crow.'

'I greet you well, Sheriff,' said Gilbert Kennedy; 'but say your say plain out, without bringing all the birds of the air into the matter.'

'Plainly then,' said the Sheriff, 'the matter is this. The Earl has moved the law against us for rights his father granted us years agone, rights that have never been questioned, and when we will not yield to him, he uses his influence with the King to make us traitors. He sends his low-born officers to remove us from our kindly homesteadings, and from the castles where for centuries our forefathers dwelled--ay, before one stone of Cassillis lay on the top of another.' And the fire glinted in the Sheriff's deep-set eyes, till, with his eagle's beak, he looked himself the very erne of which he had spoken. He went on. 'Then comes he himself, with a force of forty horse, to reduce the unbroken baronage of Galloway. He summons us to the court of doom, and lo! we come to this yett with a hundred gentlemen, and as many more footmen that but wait to be called. We have obeyed his mandate to the letter, whereat he sulks within gates. Then we send him word that we are at the trysting-place, and that we will be most glad to see his face. But for some reason or other that I cannot guess at, he comes not; but withdraws himself into the house of the Inch, where presently he remains. And we, being bound to see that no ill befalls him within our borders, have set ourselves down to be the warders and the protectors of him and of the castle.'

So said the Sheriff, and made his courteous amend. And to him Bargany replied,--

'But, Lochnaw, ye know well that ye have no warrant thus to shut up the Earl of Cassillis, immuring your lawful feudal superior and defying ancient custom.'

Then spake the red-bearded Laird of Garthland.

'If it come to that, we are bound to you and not to the Earl, Gilbert Kennedy. Ye are bound to maintain us in our rights! Am I to lose my auld and kindly office and possession, which I have held in direct line from Uchtred, Lord of Galloway? Of a truth, no, Bargany! Ye are of a conscience overtrue for work of this kind. Ye will do to me your honourable duty, as your predecessors have ever done to mine in time past.'

And having said his say with dignity, the red Garthland held his peace.

I could see very well that Bargany was ill at ease. He liked not the errand he had come on. Blows were very well, but to be process-server sat heavy on his stomach. I heard him mutter,--

'That I, Gilbert Kennedy, should be doing John of Cassillis's dirty work! For none other sake than Marjorie's would I do this thing!'

But he took up his parable with the Lairds of Galloway.

'Hearken, Garthland and Lochnaw--if, as ye say, I am above ye, well do ye know that the Earl is by law above us both.'

He paused for a moment, wry-face, as though he had swallowed the bitterest drugs of the apothecary. And I saw the Sheriff smile a smile as bitter every whit.

'Hearken to me. If my lord continue to do ye wrong, and will not use you kindly, by mine honourable word in the hearing of all these friends, I will not only leave his lordship--I will maintain you to the last drop of my blood. But if ye pursue my lord to take his life, seeing that he has sent for me to aid him, I will defend him to the uttermost of my power.'

Then said the Sheriff, 'Bargany, we are honourable men and peaceful. We are not here to attack the Earl, but to defend ourselves in that thing in which he would do us wrong.'

'I will deal straightly with my lord,' said Bargany; 'be content, and leave the outcome to me.'

'We are content,' they replied, both of them as one. 'We ken a man when we front him, for we ourselves are men. We will abide your judgment, whatever you may command.'

So in a trice Bargany had gotten the Earl to promise all good things, and the Galloway men were satisfied. Thereafter they all dined together with my lord in the house of Inch, and parted very merry. And the men of Galloway convoyed us northward to the braes of Glenap, where the whole force and retinue of Bargany's servants and friends met us. Thus was the Earl released from durance, and his promises were loud and many, so that we were all well-contented. And I thought that the old feud was at last come to an end.

*CHAPTER XXIV*

*THE SLAUGHTER IN THE SNOW*

But, alas! I was never more disappointed, shamed, deceived in my life. For no sooner was our Earl back in his own messuages and domains, and behind his lines of hackbuttmen, than he resiled from all his promises--both to the Galloway men, who had done so honourably in the releasing and convoying of him, and (what seemed to me worse) also to Bargany, who had pledged himself in honour to satisfy the Sheriff and Garthland. For after all, a lie told to a loon of Galloway is not like one to a man's own kin and country. Though, of course, a man that is true all through the web, will not tell a lie to any. But such men are few, at least in the shire of Ayr where I dwell, and in Edinburgh to which I have at different times voyaged.

But Bargany, as was natural, was fierce in his indignation with the crack-tryst Earl.

'For,' said he, 'he has made me, that am a man of my word, break faith with men of a like pattern, even with Uchtred MacDowall of Garthland and the Sheriff of Galloway.'

So after all this tangled business, instead of peace, as my deeply-deceived master had supposed when he gave over his daughter to the traitors of Auchendrayne, there issued at the last naught but feud, more deadly and hateful than ever.

The Earl, who, to do him justice, was no coward as to his own skin, went hither and thither between Cassillis and Maybole, and even south to Auchneil, riding freely as though he had been within his own borders all the time. And the traps that were laid for him by Auchendrayne and Thomas of Drummurchie, the Laird of Bargany's barbarous brother, were too many to be told. Yet for the sake of the new alliance, such as it was, Culzean meddled not at all with the matter, though doubtless it was a source of infinite bitterness of spirit to him.

Then all of a sudden there came upon us the eleventh of December, which is a day yet remembered in Carrick, because of the many brave lads that pranked it in pride in the morning, and who yet lay stiff in their war gear or ever the early winter gloaming had fallen.

We at Culzean got our warning from the Earl's man, John Dick, on the night before, how it was the order that we were to gather at Cassillis yett and ride with them back to Maybole town all in a company. John Dick told us, but with even more than his customary surliness and unwillingness, that the cause of this raising of the clan was, that two days before Bargany had ridden past the gate of Cassillis, where the Earl was--stopping not at all, but riding by with pennons flying in despite, which was held a deadly insult to his feudal superior. So Earl John had sworn to be equal with him on his return.

It was such a day of snow (this eleventh day of December) that even in the midst of the fight, when the hackbutts were talking and the steel ringing, a man could scarce see whither he was going. At times so thick was the drift, that when a man struck at an enemy with his lance, he could not tell who it might be that opposed him, whether friend or foe.

But when, very early in the morning, we rode out to the muster, the oncoming storm had not yet begun. The air was bitter cold, blowing from the south-east, so that it drove in the faces of the Bargany folk all the day. Now, as of late years it had been customary with him, my Lord of Culzean was not able to ride with us. For the chill weather unmanned him, and he could do nothing but hurkle over the fire, with a lad to rub his swollen feet and stiff knee-joints.