Part 18 (2/2)
THE CAVE OF THE COR WATER
The place we found ourselves in was a narrow pa.s.sage, very lofty and very dark, and with countless jags of rough stone on all sides to affront the stranger. Some few paces led us into a wider place, lit by some opening on the hillside, for a gleam as of pale moonlight was all about it. There stood a sentinel, a tall, grave man, dressed in coa.r.s.e homespun, and brown of the face. Through this again we pa.s.sed into another straitened place, which in a little opened into a chamber of some magnitude.
When I grew accustomed to the candle-light, I made out that it was a natural cave in the whinstone rocks, maybe thirty feet in height, square in shape, and not less than thirty feet long. The black sides were rough and crusted, and hung in many parts with articles of household gear and warlike arms. But the place was less notable than the people who were sitting there, and greeted us as we entered. In the midst was a table of rough-hewn wood, whereon lay the remnants of a meal. Lit pine-staves cast an eerie glow over all things, and in the light I saw the faces of the company clear.
On a settle of stone covered with a sheep's fleece sat an old man, large of limb and tall, but bent and enfeebled with age. His long hair fell down almost to his shoulders; his features as the light fell upon them were strong, but his eyes were sightless and dull as stone. He had a great stick in his hand which he leaned on, and at our entrance he had risen and stared before him into vacancy, conscious of some new presence, but powerless to tell of it. Near him, along by the table-side, were two men of almost like age, square, well-knit fellows, with the tanned faces of hillmen. I guessed them to be shepherds or folk of that sort who had fled to this common refuge. Beyond these again stood a tall, slim man of a more polished exterior than the rest; his att.i.tude had something of grace in it, and his face and bearing proclaimed him of better birth. Forbye, there were one or two more, gaunt, sallow folk, such as I had learned to know as the extreme religionists. These were busy conversing together with bowed heads and earnest voices, and took no heed of our arrival. To add to all, there were two women, one with a little child, clearly the wives of the shepherds.
Our guide went forward to the man who stood by the wall and whispered something to him. In an instant he came to us, and, bowing to Marjory, bade us welcome. ”We are glad to see you here, Master Burnet,” said he.
”I am rejoiced to see the gentlemen of the land coming forth on the side of the Covenant. It is you and such as you that we need, and we are blithe to give you shelter here as long as you care to bide with us. It is a queer thing that two men of the same house should be engaged in this business on different sides.”
Here one of the others spoke up.
”I trust, Master Burnet, ye have brought us good news from the Lawlands.
We heard that ye had great converse with the G.o.dly there, and we will be glad to hear your account of how the guid cause prospers over the water.”
Now I felt myself in a position of much discomfort. The cause of my outlawry had clearly got abroad, and here was I, credited with being a zealous religionist and a great man among the Scots exiles in Holland.
Whereas, as I have already said, I cared little for these things, being not of a temper which finds delight in little differences of creed or details of ecclesiastical government, but caring little in what way a man may wors.h.i.+p his Maker. Indeed, to this day, while I can see the advantage of having fixed rites and a church established, I see little use in making a pother about any deviation. So I now found myself in an unpleasing predicament. I must avow my utter ignorance of such matters and my worldly motives for thus seeking shelter, and in all likelihood, win the disfavour of these folk, nay, even be not suffered to remain.
”I thank you for your welcome,” said I, ”but I must hasten to set matters right between us. I am not of your party, though it is my misfortune to have to seek safety among the hills. It is true I have been in the Low Countries, but it was for the purposes of study and seeing the world, and not for the sake of religion. If I must speak the truth, when I abode there I had little care of such things, for they were never in my way. Now that I am returned and find myself a fugitive, I am not a whit more concerned with them. My misfortunes arise from the guile of a kinsman, and not from my faith. So there you have my predicament.”
I made the declaration crudely and roughly, for the necessity was urgent upon me of making it very plain at the outset. Another man would have been repelled or angered, but this man had the penetration to see through my mask of callousness that I was not ill-disposed to his cause.
”It is no matter,” he said. ”Though you were the most rabid malignant, we would yet give you shelter. And, indeed, though you may not be of our way of thinking in all matters, yet I doubt not you are with us on the essentials. Forbye, you are a gentleman of Tweeddale, and it would be queer if you werena right-hearted, Master John Burnet.”
Some one of the disputants grumbled, but the others seemed heartily to share in this opinion, and bidding us sit down, they removed our travelling gear, and set food before us. Our appet.i.tes were sharp with the long hill journey, and we were not slow in getting to supper.
Meanwhile the long man to whom we had first spoken busied himself with serving us, for in that desert place every man was his own servant.
Afterwards Marjory went to the women, and soon won their liking, for the heart would be hard indeed which was not moved by her pretty ways and graces.
When I had done I sat down on the settle with the rest, and the fire which burned in a corner of the cave was made up, and soon the place was less dismal but a thousandfold more fantastic. I could scarce keep from thinking that it was all a dream; that my landing, and midnight ride, and Nicol's news, and my perilous predicament were all figments of the brain. I was too tired to have any anxiety, for I would have you remember that I had ridden all the night and most of the day without a wink of sleep, besides having just come off a sea voyage. My eyelids drooped, and I was constantly sinking off into a doze. The whole place tended to drowsiness; the shadows and the light, the low hum of talk, the heavy air, for the outlet for smoke was but narrow. But the man I have spoken of came and sat down beside me and would engage me in talk.
”I do not think you know me, Master Burnet,” said he; ”but I knew your father well, and our houses used to be well acquaint. I am one o' the Carnwath Lockharts, that ye may hae heard o'. My name is Francis Lockhart o' the Beltyne.”
I knew him when he uttered the words, for I had often heard tell of him for a gallant gentleman who had seen service under Gustavus and in many Low Country wars. I complimented myself on his acquaintance, which kindness he proceeded to repay. So we fell to discussing many things-men I had known in Leyden, men I had known in Tweeddale, together with the more momentous question of the future of each of us. I gave him a full account of my recent fortunes, that he might have wherewith to contradict any rumours as to my reasons for taking to the hills. He in turn spoke to me of his life, and his sorrow at the fate of his land.
The man spoke in such unfeigned grief, and likewise with such a gentleman-like note of fairness, that I felt myself drawn to him. It was while thus engaged that he spoke a word which brought upon him the condemnation of one of the ethers.
”Oh,” said he, ”I would that some way might be found to redd up thae weary times and set the king richt on his throne, for I canna but believe that in this matter loyalty and religion go hand in hand; and that were James Stewart but free from his wanchancy advisers there would be less talk of persecuting.”
At this one of the others, a dark man from the West, spoke up sharply.
”What do I hear, Maister Lockhart? It's no by ony goodwill to James Stewart that we can hope to set things richt in thae dark times. Rather let our mouths be filled with psalms and our hands with the sword-hilt, and let us teach the wanton and the scorner what manner o' men are bred by the Covenant and the Word.”
The speech was hateful to me, and yet as I looked in the dark, rugged face of the man I could not keep from liking it. Here, at any rate, was a soul of iron. My heart stirred at his words, and I could have found it in me to cast in my lot even with such as these, and bide the bent with naught but a good sword and faith in G.o.d. Howbeit, it was well I made no such decision, for I was never meant for one of them. I ever saw things too clearly, both the evil and the good; and whereas this quality hinders from swift and resolute action, it yet leads more plainly to a happy life.
Then the old man, him whom I have spoken of, beckoned to me with his staff and bade me come and sit by him. He looked so kinglike even in his affliction that I thought on the old blind king Oedipus in the Greek play.
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