Part 31 (1/2)
”No, my David,” said the Earl, turning for a moment from the door where he had been again listening, ”you shall not stay! You are the hope of our house. My mother would fret to death if aught happened to you. This is not a matter which concerns you. Go, I bid you. On me it lies, and if I must pay the reckoning, why at least only I drank the wine.”
”I will not;” cried the boy; ”I tell you I will bide where my brother bides and his fate shall be mine.”
Then Sholto, well nigh frantic with apprehension and disappointment, went to the window and leaned out, gripping the sill with his hands.
”They will not leave the castle,” he whispered as loud as he dared; ”the Earl will not escape while the Lady Sybilla remains a prisoner within.”
”G.o.d in heaven!” cried a stern voice from below which made Sholto start, ”we shall be broken first and last upon that woman. Would to G.o.d I had slain her with my hand! Tell the Earl that if he will not come to those that wait for him underneath the tower, I, Malise MacKim, will come and fetch him like a child in my arms, even as I did from under the pine trees at Loch Roan.”
And as he spoke the strain of the rope and its swaying over the window-sill proclaimed that the mighty form of the master armourer was even then on the way upwards towards the dungeon of his chief.
”Go back, I command you, Malise MacKim,” he said, ”go back instantly.
I have made up my mind. I will not escape from the Castle of Edinburgh this night.”
But Malise answered not a word, only pulled more desperately on the rope, till the sound of his labouring breath and grasping palms could be heard from side to side of the chamber.
The Earl leaned further out.
”Malise,” he said, calm and clear, ”you see this knife. I would not have your blood on my hands. You have been a good and faithful servant to our house. But, by the oath of a Douglas, if you come one foot farther, I will cut the rope and you shall be dashed in pieces beneath.”
The master armourer stopped--not with any fear of death upon him, but lest a stroke of his master's dirk should destroy their well-arranged mode of escape.
”O Earl William, my dear lord, hear me,” he said in a gasping voice, still hanging perilously between earth and heaven. ”If I have indeed been a faithful servant, I beseech you come with me--for the sake of the house of Douglas and of your mother, a widow and alone.”
”Go down, Malise MacKim,” said the Earl, more gently; ”I will speak with you only at the rope's foot.”
So very unwillingly Malise went back.
”Now,” said the Earl, ”hearken--this will I do and no other. I will remain here and abide that which shall befall me, as is the will of G.o.d. I am bound by a tie that I cannot break. What life is to another, honour and his word must be to a Douglas. But I send your son Sholto to you. I bid him ride fast to Galloway and bring all that are faithful with speed here to Edinburgh. Go also into Douglasdale and tell my cousin William of Avondale--and if he is too late to save, I know well he will avenge me.”
”O William Douglas, if indeed ye will neither fleech nor drive, I pray you for the sake of the great house to send your brother David, that the Douglases of the Black be not cut off root and branch. Remember, your mother is sore set on the lad.”
”I will not go,” cried David, as he heard this; ”by the saints I will stand by my brother's shoulder, though I be but a boy! I will not go so much as a step, and if by force ye stir me I will cry for the guard!”
By this time the young David was leaning half out of the window, and almost shouting out his words down to the unseen Douglases beneath.
”Go, Sholto,” said the Earl, setting his hand on his squire's shoulder. ”You alone can ride to Galloway without drawing rein. Go swiftly and bring back every true lad that can whang bow, or gar sword-iron whistle. The Douglas must drie the Douglas weird. I would have made you a great man, Sir Sholto, but if you get a new master, he will surely do that which I had not time to perform.”
”Come, Sholto,” said his father, ”there is a horse at the outer port.
I fear the Crichton's men are warned. As it is we shall have to fight for it.”
Sholto still hesitated, divided between obedience and grief.
”Sholto MacKim,” said the Earl, ”if indeed you owe me aught of love or service, go and do that thing which I have laid upon you. Bear a courteous greeting from me to your sweetheart Maud, and a kiss to our Maid Margaret. And now haste you and begone!”
Sholto bent a moment on his knee and kissed the hand of his young master. His voice was choked with sobs. The Earl patted him on the shoulder. ”Dinna greet, laddie,” he said, in the kindly country speech which comes so meltingly to all Galloway folk in times of distress, gentle and simple alike, ”dinna greet. If one Douglas fall in the breach, there stands ever a better behind him.”
”But never one like you, my lord, my lord!” said Sholto.