CHAPTER IX.

THE BANE OF SCOTLAND.

"By Chericul's dark wandering streams. Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild; Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams Of Scotland, loved while still a child; Of castled rocks stupendous piled, By Esk or Eden's classic wave, When loves of youth and friendship smiled, Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave!" LEYDEN: _The Gold Coin_

For many hundred years a curse, or rather a fell spirit, hovered over Scotland, and time seems never to have lessened its force, or the evil produced by the blighting breath of that _yellow slave_, of which he who found a grave so far from her shore--poor Leyden, one of the sweetest of our bards--has sung, in his beautiful Ode to an Indian coin of gold. This curse has been the mal-influence of a party within the Scottish nation, whose interests were separated from its common weal, who throve on its ruin and disgrace, and have ever been the ready instruments of oppression, neglect, and misrule: I mean that party distinguished in the darkest pages of our annals as _the English fiction_--usually a band of paid traitors, whom even the Union could not abolish; men who surrendered themselves to work out the evil, disastrous, and insidious projects of the sister kingdom, for the purpose of weakening the power of the Scottish people; and thus, as Schiller says, "never has civil war embroiled the cities of Scotland, that an Englishman has not applied a brand to the walls."

To the patricidal efforts of this faction, which for many hundred years proved the bane of Scotland, our historians lay the blame of every dark and disastrous transaction that blackens the page of Scottish history.

Their intrigues brought on the troubles of Alexander III.; the betrayal of Wallace; and that long war, which even Bannockburn did not end; the early misfortunes of James I. and those of James III., when England intrigued with Albany to gain the town of Berwick, and marry a prince of Scotland to Margaret Tudor. We recognise the same corrupt faction in those ignoble peers who pledged themselves to the English king after the fight at Solway Moss, and thus broke the heart of James V., the most splendid of our monarchs; who plunged Scotland in bloodshed under the Regents Murray, Mar, and Morton; who betrayed Kirkaldy of Grange, and, after a life of woe, surrendered their sovereign to the axe of an English executioner. Again we recognise them, when "the master fiend, Argyle," and his compatriots, betrayed her misguided grandson to Cromwell, and when their more sordid successors sold their country at the Union; when they betrayed our Darien colonists to the Spanish allies of England, and the Macdonalds of Glencoe to the barbarous assassins of William of Orange.

Sir James Shaw of Sauchie, Sir Patrick Gray of Kyneff, and the despicable swashbuckler, Borthwick, in the days of James III., represented the ignoble Scots of 1488. They were conducted by a page to the great cabin of the English frigate, in which several gentlemen, all richly dressed, were lounging on the cushioned lockers, and drinking Canary and Rochelle wine out of silver-mounted horns. A lamp, having a globe of pink-coloured glass, swung from a beam, and diffused a warm light around the cabin, which was all wainscoted, and hung with armour and weapons of various kinds.

On the entrance of the three visitors, all the English officers withdrew, save Edmund Howard, the captain, who wore a scarlet cassock coat, richly furred with miniver, and a diamond sword-belt; and his secretary, Master Quentin Kraft, a London attorney, who was attired in plain blue broadcloth, trimmed with black tape, and who immediately produced writing materials, clean drinking horns, and more wine.

"Welcome on board the royal ship, _Harry!_" said Edmund Howard, bowing, without rising, while a sneer of ill-disguised contempt curled his handsome mouth, over which hung a dark mustachio; for, like a noble cavalier and honest mariner, he had an unmitigated aversion to the duty on which King Henry had sent him, and for the three Scotsmen, with whom he had to conduct a court intrigue. "I am glad you have come off at last; but why all rigged in armour--aloft and alow, from head to heel, eh?"

"In Scotland, men go not abroad without their harness," replied the Laird of Sauchie, haughtily.

"By St. George," said Howard, "four hours ago I was sick of knocking about in the offing, and then having to creep in, like a thief in the nightfall, between the Inchcape Rock and yonder devilish sands. A fine business 'twould have been to have found myself beached in the shoal water, and just after this hot affair of ours with Sir Andrew Barton in the Channel. Be seated, Sir James; Sir Patrick, the Canary stands with _you_; come to anchor, Master Borthwick--cannot you find a seat? By the bye, talking of Barton, I owe thee a hundred crowns, Borthwick. Kraft, hand this gentleman a hundred crowns, and be sure to get his quittance for them, ere they are stowed away."

While this transaction passed, and the price of Barton's blood was being paid to Borthwick, the two rebellious barons divested themselves of their ample cloaks and masks, and each presented an athletic figure, completely cased in iron, save the head, and armed with daggers and long swords of a famous kind, then made and tempered at Banff.

Shaw of Sauchie was older, less bloated, and less dissipated in aspect than Gray; but he had the same cunning eyes, large mustachios, and bullying or imperious aspect.

"Now, then, Captain Howard, let us to business," said he, filling his wine-horn.

"Ay, to business," added Borthwick, filling his, and imitating the nonchalance of the baron.

"Well," said Howard, "how does his Grace of Rothesay's amour proceed (for of _that_ we have heard at the English court), and what chance is there of his ranging up amicably alongside of a fair English princess, yard-arm and yard-arm, with Cupid ahead?"

"Very little, I fear, since this affair with Barton."

"Barton was a brave seaman, and man of honour," said the Englishman; "but," he added, contemptuously, "I have just paid for that piece of sport."

"You have paid King Henry's spy," retorted Sir James Shaw, warmly; "but remember that King James, and more than he, old Andrew Wood, and Barton's eldest son, will amply avenge your battle in the Channel, unless we have them both fettered, or disposed of otherwise."

"Then dispose of them, in God's name, and as many more angry Scots as are in the same unruly mood; for King Henry wishes no more of this work; and indeed, ere long, an ambassador will leave London, to clear up the story of our conflict with the ships of Barton, against which, I think, _we_ may fairly set off Lord Angus's invasion of Northumberland."

"Well, but what is King Henry's new proposal?"

"Simply this, Sir Patrick; that by force or fraud we must either bring off the young prince and have him wedded to the Princess Margaret Tudor, in terms of their betrothal, or we must kidnap the young Dame Margaret Drummond, whichever your most worshipful knighthoods think can be most easily accomplished, for we have undoubted proofs that Rothesay loves her."

"Ah!--is it so?" said Gray, with a dark frown; "but what does Henry VII. propose to do with her? for I would not have evil done to the maiden."

"He would shut her up in some remote Welsh castle, or perhaps the Red Tower of the Dudleys near Wem, where she would never be heard of again. Like a wise old fellow, King Henry knows well that love is fed by the society of lovers; but that, in absence or separation, the fire goes out, and the passion dies. Thus, if we could spirit this dainty dame on board the _Harry_----"

"Easier said than done. I have reason to believe," said Borthwick, "that the young prince loves her better than life, and would never survive her loss."

"I have heard it said that thy mother was a witch, Borthwick," said Gray, tauntingly; "I would we had the old dame's aid to-night."

Borthwick darted secretly at the speaker one of his sinister and ferocious glances, for this taunt stung him deeply.

"The prince is only seventeen--a chit, a child--and may yet love twenty better than little Margaret Drummond," said Sir James Shaw; "but to engage in a plan so desperate, I would require King Henry's written assurance of a safe sanctuary in England, for myself and friends, in case this plot were blown and we obliged to fly; moreover, I would require another written assurance that, if all succeeded--that is, if Lady Margaret _disappears_, and Rothesay marries your Margaret Tudor----"

"Princess," suggested Howard, stroking his mustachio.

"Well--well--your Princess Margaret--that Henry will use all his influence with Rothesay and the king to have my lands of Sauchie, in the shire of Stirling, created into an earldom, together with a gift of two of the best baronies now possessed by the Duke of Montrose, supposing that by the same happy intrigue the said dukedom is abolished, Angus made Lord Chancellor, and the Lindesays driven to Flanders or the devil!"

"Um--um--Flanders, or the devil," muttered Master Quentin Kraft, writing very literally and very fast.

"And I," said Sir Patrick Gray, "require the same royal assurances, with Henry's recommendation to have my barony of Kyneff and estate of Caterline created into a lordship, with the captainrie of Broughty to me and my heirs, heritably and irredeemably, and the salmons' cruives of the Dichty, now pertaining to the Laird of Grange, who must fish for his salmon elsewhere."

"In all these particulars, if Henry's interest fail not, you shall be perfectly satisfied. Write carefully, Master Kraft."

"And I--" began Borthwick.

"Shall have two hundred crowns yearly, to be paid by the English ambassador. Ah! your eyes open like port-holes at that."

"But suppose there is no ambassador, which happens very often, Captain Howard?"

"Ah! to be sure; then the Governor of Berwick shall pay thee."

"But how are we to have this pretty maiden brought on board an English ship?" asked Howard.

"'Tis the most difficult matter of all. A dose of poison might serve us better, and obtain our ends without much trouble," suggested Borthwick.

The ruffian barons eyed each other, but did not speak.

"Nay, nay," said the gallant Howard; "by Heaven, fellow, if thou makest another suggestion such as that, I will order the boatswain's mates to fling thee overboard in a hencoop! In the king's service I have usually carried more sail than ballast--but poison! a sailor's curse on't! Egad, 'tis a word never mentioned to a Howard, and moreover," he added, with a furious glance, as he rose from the table, "'twas a villain's thought in thee!"

"Softly," said Sir Patrick Gray, with alarm; "let us not quarrel, Captain Howard, about poison or abduction; none of us are severe moralists--"

"Scot--you speak for yourself, I presume."

"I would rather marry the damsel myself than that we should have high words anent the disposal of her. Bethink thee, Englishman--'tis as much as your life is worth to be this night within gunshot of the Scottish shore; and this gentleman----"

"What--Borthwick?"

"Yes, he----"

"Might inform Sir Andrew Wood, you mean to say," continued Howard. "Well, I should like to see your admiral's _Yellow Frigate_ come out of the river, with all her iron teeth bristling; for now that Barton is gone, he is the best and bravest seaman that treads upon a deck. Nay, nay, none of you will betray me, unless King James pays better than King Henry."

Gray and Sauchie were stung by this bold remark, and the former hastened to say--

"How know we not but the prince may have wedded the Lady Margaret Drummond?"

"Pshaw! what would it matter if he had? She is only the daughter of a subject--a baron."

"Captain Howard, you talk like an Englishman, who knows not the temper of our Scottish barons. Her father can rouse all Strathearn, and set Scotland on fire. Beware lest the flames roll over the Border."

"Master Borthwick, you did not inform me that the Lord Drummond was so powerful, or this amour so dangerous."

"If King Henry had written to me----"

Here the Englishman burst into a loud fit of laughter.

"King Henry write to thee! By Jove, I like this impudence--it amuses me excessively!"

"So it seems," growled Borthwick, every glance of whose sinister eyes indicated the restless and evil soul within.

"Bah! people don't write that which is more safe when borne by word of mouth. Henry might hang me, or the King of Scots might hang us all, for letting our gaff too loose--our words would die with us; but letters will endure while ink and paper last. Yet where is our _bond in cipher_, of which King Henry has the key--we cannot do without that. Master Kraft, is it ready?"

"Here it is, sir," replied the little secretary, laying a piece of parchment on the cabin table.

"Then, sirs," said the English captain, "when you have signed it, this shall acquaint King Henry that ye are his liegemen, and pledge yourselves, with life, limb, and fortune, to further the English alliance of His Grace the Duke of Rothesay, on the understanding that Henry, by his new ambassador, urges your claims to the peerage, and that, on the espousal day, you each receive the sum of twenty thousand English crowns."

"It is agreed," said Shaw of Sauchie, as he and Gray touched the pen of Kraft, who wrote the names they were unable to sign; but Borthwick, having been educated as a priest, wrote in a bold hand, amid a multitude of flourishes, _Heu Bortwyck, Knyt_, at the bottom of this precious document.

"From the Inchcape, gentlemen, we must run over to St. Abb's-head; and after hanging off the land for a day or two, we will stand again towards the Tay. Here, on the evening of the 10th--St. Anthony's Day--we will be in the offing; if by that time you can give me this dainty dame to stow under hatch, all your fortunes are made."

"Enough--we shall see to it, Captain Howard," said Sir Patrick Gray, resuming his mask and cloak.

"Remember this, sir captain," said Borthwick: "the king's chaplain, James, Bishop of Dunblane, who is returning from Rome, will pass through England in disguise. I would recommend his capture, and the seizure of whatever papers may be found in his possession, for they may prove of much service to Henry, your king."

"Another thousand crowns to thee, Master Borthwick! Zookers! man, thou wilt die rich as a Jew of Lombard-street! Now then, Kraft, hast thou scribbled all this into thy devil's log-book?"

"Yes, sir," replied the secretary, securing his volume by a curious lock in the iron band which encircled it.

"Then fill the wine-pots. Take another cup, gentlemen," said the Englishman, with that contempt for his guests which the necessity of pandering to the snake-like policy of his court could not repress. "'Tis time we were all in our hammocks; and your boat is waiting, sirs."

Shaw and Gray, who knew very well that they were in his power, gave him dark and savage glances; and as they left the cabin, they heard him issue orders to--

"Lower away the port-lids, larboard and starboard; to run back the culverins--lash and make fast; to stand off before the land breeze; for," said he, "we must make the offing ere daybreak--ay, and be hull down, if we can."

They left the English ship just as the bell rang the middle watch, and the hoarse voice of the boatswain was heard ringing in prolonged echoes between decks. Howard, who mistrusted his visitors, by an after-thought, came in person to see them over the ship's side, and into their boat.

"Fare ye well, gentlemen," said he, in his jibing way. "Adieu, noble Master Borthwick--I beg pardon--_Sir Hew_. I hope you will not forget your visit to Ned Howard, and the good ship _Harry_. I pray it may not shorten your cruise for life."

"Hush, hush!" said Shaw, as the oars plunged into the water.

"_Howard and the Harry!_" muttered Jamie Gair, under his thick beard, as he bent to his oar and slued the boat's head round towards the land, where the bright-red light of his own cottage window was streaming on the water, and while the English ship filled her headsails, and stood off towards the sea. "My certie! but this _will_ be braw news for Rabbie Barton and auld Sir Andrew! Here's been some fause wark; but I'll spoil your port, fair gentlemen, lord-barons though ye be; for the admiral shall hear o' this, though I should hang owre Broughty tower for it."

The mast was stepped, a sail set, and before the south-east wind, that blew from the Fifeshire hills, the boat glided over the starlit water like a wild sea-mew.