Volume Ii Part 17 (1/2)
”Aih-hay-hay!” shouted Will Laidlaw, as loud as he could yell: ”Hilloa, hilloa, hilloa!”--and he sprang first on the back of his own horse with his feet, and from that he darted upon one of those that carried the packs. When I rode up he was sitting on the rumple o' the beast, hugging the child, that he had deemed lost, in his bosom, kissing him, and exclaiming,--”Aih, my man! my dear man, are ye safe? are ye safe? G.o.d bless auld Will Nicol! G.o.d bless auld Will Nicol!”
It was impossible for two down-cast and broken-hearted warriors to be more uplifted at any incident than Will Laidlaw and I were, at discovering that the boy was safe; and even auld Will Nicol began to recover some confidence.--”I heard you giving a chap some charges about him, that I kend weel caredna if his head were off,--od, he was ane o'
the hard-headed Olivers. What cares an Oliver for a man's life, or a bairn's either?--Sae I thinks, sin my young master has ta'en a liking for the bairn, I's e'en gang and look after him. It is a good sign of a young warrior to like to save women and bairns. Sae I gangs, and sae I thinks sin I is bringing away this wee chap out o' danger, I may as weel bring something wi' me as naething; sae I brings aught o' the best horses, and the best laden anes that I could wale, and bound for the Border. A fashous job I hae had wi' them a' night.”
It is needless to tell how frankly auld Will was forgiven.
The Cowd-Peel being a rallying point on all Border raides, we stayed there a whole day and a night, in hopes that some part of our men wad come up; but out of all my fifty men there were none appeared but three of the Potts. The hard-headed Olivers had been slain to a man, and all the Laidlaws save my brave companion. Out of ninety valiant Elliots there were only twelve remaining, and some of these were of the drivers.
There were fifty-seven Scots, and nearly as many English, with b.l.o.o.d.y-Sark at their head, buried in one cairn; and, for the sake of the Bishop, the English raised a heap of stones above them as huge as an abbey church, which will be seen on the height above the ford of Keilder for ever.
Laidlaw slept that night in a good bed with the boy in his arms, for we had no lack of the finest blankets and sheets; and that night the white lady appeared to him again, claiming her child, yet still declining to accept of him, and promising Will protection on earth and a reward in heaven if he continued to guard and protect that boy. Whether this was in a dream or not, Laidlaw could not be positive; but he rather inclined to think he was wide awake, for he remembered of speaking to her audibly. Among other things, she asked him if he knew it was the child that had slept by him on the waste the night before the battle. Will said he was sure. She asked him how. He answered, that ”unless the fairies had changed him it could nae be ony other.”
”But the fairies or some one else may change him,” said she. ”You may be separated amid the confusion and uproar now on the Border; and when you meet again, you may not be able to prove the ident.i.ty of my child. I bade you the other night examine his bosom, but you neglected to do so.
If you had, you would there have found the spur of Ravensworth, testifying his lineage and descent to all the world.”
Will came to me in a great ferment the next day, and told me of all this. I had heard the same words the night before the battle, but had quite forgot them among other matters, and wist as little what they meant as Will did.
”I hae lookit a' his bits o' claes, and graepit them a',” said he; ”but I can find nae spur. How could there be a spur about a nakit bairn? It is may be in amang the blankets.”
”It is perhaps some private mark,” said I. ”Let us examine the child's body very narrowly.”
On doing so we found a slight mark on his breast, that seemed to have been made by applying a hot iron at some time previous, and it was exactly in the form of a V with the wrang end uppermost. So we both concluded that this was a private mark of some family, that neither fairies nor men kend o', and that it was perhaps a stamp that keepit them a' away.
”It is the stamp of the heirs lineal of the house of Neville,” said the friar; ”I have impressed it with my own hand, after many ma.s.ses and Ave Marias said. What became of that child? or whither is he gone? I pray thee to inform us in the words of truth not lengthened out.”
Alas, I cannot tell! He was visited by the white lady of Ravensworth every night, and when the gloaming came she would be seen hovering on the skirts of the wood near to him. I grew that I durstna sleep a night within ten miles o' him, and Will Laidlaw turned clean b.u.mbazed about the thing; sae we were obliged to send him to board wi' auld Lady Lawder, her that was put out o' the convent for witchery and the ill arts. She cared nought about spirits, and conversed wi' the white lady as she had been her door neighbour; and it was said there were strange mysterious sayings past between them. She book-learned the boy, pen-learned the boy, and learned him mony other things foreby that were thought to be nae better than they should hae been. She chaunt.i.t sangs til him, and tauld him tales, and, there was little doubt, meant to breed him up to be a terrible enchanter; but afore that could be eff.e.c.kit, the white lady came and took him away a' thegither.
From that day he has never been seen or heard of in this world, neither as boy nor man. And now, sirs, I find that my story's worn to a head hair, and that I maun cut it short. So it is done, and that's an end til't.
CHAPTER VIII.
I have been a skipper in my time, And something more. Anon, I'll tell it you.
OGILVIE.
”It is nae worth the name of a story that,” said Tam Craik; ”for, in the first place, it is a lang story; in the second place, it is a confused story; and, in the third place, it ends ower abruptly, and rather looks like half a dozen o' stories linkit to ane anither's tails.”
The poet was by this time on his feet, and, coming forward to Charlie, he looked him sublimely in the face, stretched out his hand, and spoke as follows: ”There is some being, wheresoe'er he dwells, that watches o'er the fates of mortal men: now do I know it. Yea, and that same being has spirits of all casts at his command, that run, and fly, and trim, and trim, and trim about this world. And it is even true that I have seen of these, yet knew them not. Look here, brave hero, man of heart and hand! and see if thou canst note thy mark once seen? Thy spur; thy A without the crossing stroke; thy V with the wrong end upmost,--is it here?”
The poet bowed his breast, and exposed it to Charlie's eye, which, at the first scrutinizing look, discerned the mark he had formerly seen,--the mark of the spur of Ravensworth. Charlie's visage altered into lengthened amazement. It could scarcely have been more strongly marked when he was visited by the white lady on Tersit moor, even when he was glad to hide his face in the moss, and hold by the heather with both his hands.
”And are you really the chap that I threw out at the window in the castle of Ravensworth,” said he, ”and boarded wi' auld lady Lawder? The creature that had a ghaist for its guardian, and a witch for its nurse?
But what need I spier? My ain een convinces me. Gude faith but we are a queer set that are p.r.i.c.kit up on the top o' this tower thegither! I am amaist terrified to enquire where you have been since the white lady took you away; for ye must have been in the fairy land, or the country o' the gruesome ghaists, or perhaps in a waur place than either.”
”We are a queerer set than you are thinking of,” said Tam; ”for here am I standing, Tam Craik, liege man and true to the brave Scottish Warden, and I carena wha kens it now; but I am neither less nor mair a man than just Marion's Jock o' the Dod-s.h.i.+el, that sliced the fat bacon, ate the pet lamb, and killed the auld miser, Goodman Niddery. Here's the same whittle yet, and ready at the service of ony ane that requires it for the same end. Od, we seem to ken mair about ane anither than ony ane o'
us kens about ourselves.”