"The oath is recorded in heaven, and may not be recalled," was the answer of the young lord.
Lord Maxwell, after receiving a maternal benediction, retired to his chamber; and, notwithstanding the difficulties which he knew it would be his lot immediately to encounter, the fatigue of the day was more than enough to insure him a good night"s rest. His slumbers continued undisturbed, until the old man to whom reference has already been made came to his bedside early on the following morning. This person was a clansman, who had entered the church, and had embraced the doctrines of the Reformation. About ten years before the death of Lord Maxwell, that n.o.bleman had quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, who at that time was the reigning favourite of James VI; and he had then brought his learned clansman to the Castle of the Thrieve. The rude warden of the west marches--for Lord Maxwell held that office--had no taste for the religious exercises which his namesake, John, wished to introduce into the household; and it may be said that the baron"s favour for Presbyterianism was owing to the single circ.u.mstance that Arran was an object of detestation common to him and to the ministers. But, although few listeners could be found for the discourses of the aged preacher, his a.s.siduity had enabled him to impart a share of his knowledge to his patron"s son and heir, who in some measure repaid him for his care, by regarding him with strong feelings of respect and attachment.
When Lord Maxwell had dressed himself, he proceeded to the study of his aged friend, who had requested an interview with him at that early hour.
"I fear your rest has been broken by my impatience," said the minister; "but, as I was anxious to see you before your comrades were astir, it was not easy to do otherwise."
The young baron a.s.sured him that he was completely refreshed, and begged him to mention the cause of his anxiety.
"You will pardon me," said the old man, "if I intrude a word or two of advice upon you. The rules of Border morality require you to avenge the death of your father. I have oftentimes shown you wherein these rules were wrong; and you have owned that what I have said was true. Are you now ready to act upon your own independent judgment, to forego your desire for revenge, and to enter into alliance with Johnstone? Will you permit those barons who are now asleep beneath the roof-tree of your house to make you do what you know and feel to be wrong?"
"It may not be," said the other; "my fathers have died on the battle-field, and I must not die in my bed. But I am bound by a solemn vow--by all that I hope and enjoy--to seek revenge, by day and by night, by all honourable means; to risk life, lands, liberty--ay, happiness in this world and the next--before I abandon the pursuit."
"Ay, but, my son," replied the aged minister--"for so would I call thee, who are dearer to me than life--a vow or oath which has an evil object in view may be honourably broken. The honour is in breaking, not in keeping it."
"The oath is no longer in mine own keeping; and I would not break it, even if I could. It may be that an evil oath should be broken; I pretend not to skill in these matters. But I feel," said Lord Maxwell, in an energetic tone--"I feel that this oath of mine cannot be broken. I have not taken it in haste; and sooner would I wish that my head, severed from my body, were placed over the gate of Johnstone"s castle of Lochwood, there by turns to blacken in the sun and bleach in the rain, than I would now break my vow in one particular."
"Alas! for thee, my son!" exclaimed the minister, in the tremulous accents of age and of distress. "I deemed that thou wouldst prove an honour to thy kind and thy country; that for thee might be reserved the task of healing the wounds of this distracted land."
"Forgive me, my second father," said the young baron, taking his aged friend by the hand; "my doom is fixed, but my deeds must be done within a narrower sphere. My objects are not like those of princes. Blood has been shed, and it must be wiped away; life has been lost, and it must be avenged. My father has perished miserably--yet not miserably, for he died on the field of battle. His blood cries aloud for vengeance."
The aged minister"s grief would not allow him to utter the prayer that pa.s.sed from his heart to heaven on behalf of his erring pupil. Lord Maxwell silently wrung the hand that was enclosed in his own, and hastened to meet the barons, who had now a.s.sembled in the hall, and only waited until their host should a.s.sume his place, before beginning their morning"s repast.
Considerable division of opinion existed in the councils of the Nithsdale barons, with regard to the propriety of putting an end to the disturbances, by entering into league with Sir James Johnstone; but the determination with which Lord Maxwell avowed his intention of calling upon them all to act in conformity with their previous letters of _manrent_, soon put an end to the deliberations of the morning, and immediate steps were taken for pursuing the warfare with renewed vigour.
Sir Robert Maxwell of Orchardstone, who was married to a sister of Sir James Johnstone, but who had, nevertheless, taken the part of his chief, Lord Maxwell, in the recent disputes, was permitted to remain inactive; but his contingency of men was required as rigorously as that of any other baron who had bound himself to give all support to the head of the clan. Day after day incursions were made by these hostile tribes into the territory of each other; their hatred hourly waxed stronger; those courtesies which even mosstroopers sometimes practised were thrown aside with shameful indifference. Rapine and crimes of every complexion were of daily occurrence; villages were burned without compunction; neither age nor s.e.x was spared; slaughter and conflagration were now the end and aim of the freebooters, instead of plunder. No redeeming ray was cast over the horrors of this continued warfare, by any of those circ.u.mstances which sometimes show the hearts of men in their more favourable aspects; and to describe the progress of events in this district of country for the course of many succeeding years, would serve only to weary and disgust with a repet.i.tion of the most fearful atrocities.
Is it wonderful that a familiarity with scenes of blood should steel the heart of the young baron, and make him deaf to the voice of compa.s.sion or remonstrance? Need it be said that cruelty became the characteristic of his mind? that his temper became harsh, his disposition imperious, and his spirit as untameable as it was fiery?
Neither the threats nor the entreaties of his sovereign himself could make Lord Maxwell lay aside his vindictive purpose: the former were despised, because they could not be executed; the latter were unheeded, because they were as dust in the balance, compared with the revenge which the young chief had vowed to obtain. The appointment of his experienced rival to the wardenry of the middle marches, about five or six years after the battle of Dryffe Sands, made the cup of bitterness overflow. Lord Maxwell took advantage of Sir James Johnstone"s absence to ravage that baron"s territory with greater ferocity than ever; and, on the pretext afforded by this last fearful inroad, he was prohibited from approaching the Border counties. The mandate was scorned, because it could not be carried into effect; and these hostile tribes continued to lay waste the territories of each other, until King James ascended the English throne, when, in the course of a year or two, the power of that monarch was so much strengthened, that he was, ere long, enabled to place under the command of Sir James Johnstone a force which was found sufficient for the purpose of expelling the refractory Lord Maxwell.
The fugitive baron, half-frenzied with anger and disappointment, was invited by his kinsman, the Marquis of Hamilton, to take up his abode in Craignethan Castle, a stronghold situated in the most fertile district of Clydesdale, upon a rock which overhangs the river. The marquis and his father (who had died a short time before the arrival of Lord Maxwell at Craignethan) had always supported their relative whenever differences arose betwixt him and the court of King James; and this support was tendered, not so much from the coa.r.s.er motives which, for the most part, lay at the foundation of n.o.ble friendships in those days, as from regard to Lord Maxwell, whose better qualities had not been so totally obscured in the course of his brief but b.l.o.o.d.y career, as to prevent him from becoming an object of affection among his own kindred and dependants.
But neither the marquis, nor his mother (who still lived to relate, rather for her own amus.e.m.e.nt than for the edification of her hearers, the achievements of her race), nor his sister, the Lady Margaret, could devise any means of dispelling the gloom which marked the countenance and deportment of their guest; and he seemed even to hate the very amus.e.m.e.nts with which his friends endeavoured to draw his thoughts away from the bitter recollections that were the daily subject of his contemplation. His only enjoyment seemed to consist in traversing the romantic scenes which lay around; and scarcely a day pa.s.sed without a visit to some of those spots in which the rude magnificence exhibited by nature in the rocks and ravines, was contested with the gentleness and beauty that characterised many patches reclaimed from the waste by the industry of the neighbouring husbandmen. At other times he would roam through the woods until he lost himself in their mazes, and his mind was roused into activity by the effort to retrace his steps.
A beautiful dell, in which all sorts of scenery were harmoniously combined, was a favourite haunt of the baron; and here he often stretched himself at mid-day beneath the shadow of some vast oak or beech, that he might meditate in solitude and in silence on schemes for retrieving his affairs--for restoring him to his possessions in their full extent and without restraint--and, above all, for consummating that revenge which was still ungratified, notwithstanding all the rapine and slaughter of eight years.
As he was one day engaged in such contemplations--profaning with evil thoughts the retreats which seemed to have been consecrated by nature to peace, and holiness, and all good affections--his attention was arrested by a song familiar to Borderers, and composed by one of the men who had been executed for the murder of Sir James Johnstone"s predecessor in the wardenship of the middle marches. But, although the a.s.sociations which were awakened in the mind of Lord Maxwell on hearing "Johnnie Armstrong"s Last Good-night,"[4] were of a mixed nature, the sweet tones of the singer, and the allusions to the Border, made him forget, in the delight of the moment, the more painful meditations which had been thus agreeably interrupted. The delicious dream lasted only for a minute; the voice of song was hushed; and although the baron, with curiosity to which he had for years remained a stranger, started alertly from the ground, that he might discover the sweet disturber of his thoughts, he was too late; for no one save himself stood within the dell, where he had sought solitude, though, as it turned out, he had not altogether found it.
[Footnote 4: "The music of the most accomplished singer," says Goldsmith, in his "Essays," "is dissonance to what I felt when an old dairymaid sang me into tears with "Johnnie Armstrong"s Last Good-night."" Of this ballad only two stanzas (which are subjoined) have survived till modern times. The beauty of these only deepens the feeling of regret at the loss of the rest.
"This night is my departing night, For here nae langer must I stay; There"s neither friend nor foe o" mine But wishes me away.
"What I have done, through lack o" wit, I never, never can recall: I hope ye"re a" my friends as yet-- Good-night, and joy be with you all!"]
His reveries were now at an end for the time; and he returned to the castle with that reluctance which every man feels when he is about to mingle in society, without possessing the power of deriving delight from his intercourse with human-kind.
In the course of the evening--which was usually devoted by the guests of the marquis to sports, varied by occasional conversations on all sorts of subjects, from lively to severe--a keen dispute arose betwixt a young French count and one of his comrades with regard to the merits of Scottish music. After arguing, and stating, and re-stating their opinions, until they found that the one could not convince the other, they agreed to refer the point to Lord Maxwell, who seemed to be the only person not talking, or listening to talk, at the moment; and they then proceeded to give specimens at once of their own vocal powers and of the beauty of the music peculiarly prevalent in their respective countries. After the trial was completed, a round of laughter greeted the compet.i.tors, whose performance, it may be supposed from this reception, was none of the most beautiful. The umpire, when asked to deliver his award, only shook his head.
"Though I don"t pretend to say which is the _better_ singer," said Lord Maxwell, "I will undertake to convince our foreign friend that Scottish melodies are at least equal to the music which he adores; but you, my lord, must aid me, otherwise this mighty dispute must remain unsettled."
"Speak your wish," said the marquis, "and it shall be gratified, if I can help you."
"You have sometimes told me that I do nothing but mope about your woods and ravines, scarcely opening my eyes or my ears; but to-day, at least, it was not so. My day-dreams were agreeably dispelled by some songstress, who had escaped, however, before I could discover whether the lips which breathed such melody were as sweet as the song. Could you only hear "Armstrong"s Good-night" warbled as I heard it to-day, your disputes would soon be at an end. Perhaps some of the village girls may----"
"No village girl, my lord," exclaimed the defender of Scottish music.
All eyes were in a moment fixed upon Lady Margaret, whose blushes had betrayed her. The ballad was once more sung; and need it be said that the disbeliever in Scottish melody became a convert, and, like other converts, became even more zealous than his old antagonist in praises of the song and of the songstress? Lord Maxwell began to chide himself for not having sooner discovered that Lady Margaret was not only endowed with a sweet voice, but possessed of great personal attractions. He had, indeed, frequently heard her sing, but the right chord had never been touched before; and it was only when the ballads with which he was familiar, and which were the native growth of his own province, fell upon his ear, that attention was awakened, and the full beauty of the vocal powers possessed by his unseen charmer was perceived.
Margaret Hamilton was now in her eighteenth year, and possessed that irregular beauty, glowing with life and health, which wins the heart more readily than the most faultless but chilling perfection of feature.
The high intelligence and elevated feeling which met "in her aspect and her eyes," her bright complexion and raven ringlets, made her such a being as the imagination delights to portray and contemplate, though the beautiful vision which flits across the mind seldom has a living, and breathing, and moving counterpart in the material world.
The excursions of Lord Maxwell were not now so solitary as they had been before the occurrence of the incident already mentioned; and a walk without a companion was now the exception from the general rule. That companion--need it be recorded--was Margaret Hamilton. Every scene that deserved a visit--every wondrous work of nature or curious work of man, within a range of several miles around Craignethan Castle--was pointed out by Lady Margaret for the admiration of her brother"s guest. Nor was it long before the admiration bestowed upon the lifeless scenes which they contemplated in common was transferred to each other by the animated observers themselves. They rapidly proceeded through all the stages of that fever which, in its crisis, is called love. The feuds, and animosities, and revenge, of the Nithsdale baron were for a time forgotten; those better affections which had been cherished by the preceptor of his youth--the gentler feelings which produce the courtesies and kindnesses of life--the intellectual tastes which had long lain uncultivated, and had indeed borne many weeds under the influence of harsh pa.s.sions--all these began in some measure to revive; his spirit, freed for a season from the operation of those motives which had hitherto guided it with so much power, appeared to be softened; his demeanour lost somewhat of its sternness; and a new pa.s.sion seemed gradually to be expelling all those fiercer emotions by which he had hitherto been governed.
But these delightful days could not last for ever; and the marquis, although he was pleased when he first saw the change in the deportment of his relative, felt that the intimacy of his sister and his kinsman could not last long without ripening into attachment. Yet he attempted to soothe his disquietude by the usual excuse that his apprehensions were outrunning the reality; and he delayed all interference until interference was in vain. Besides, he was himself about to enter into the state of wedlock, and could not be in a very fit condition for treating the affections of others with anything like severity. Autumn had arrived before the marquis introduced the subject. He rallied his kinsman on his bachelorship.
"But why may not I remain a bachelor, and be as happy as you?"
"What!--I would Lady Margaret heard you. Could _she_ not make you change your mind?" said the marquis, keenly eyeing Lord Maxwell.
The baron gave no reply; for the words died on his lips. The blood forsook his cheek; the fire was quenched in his eye; even his stature seemed to lessen; and he looked as if Heaven in its wrath had struck him with its thunderbolt. The oath which he had sworn, and which he had broken even by his sloth in lingering at Craignethan Castle, recurred to his mind in all its force:--one aim, one hope, one affection, one object--revenge, b.l.o.o.d.y revenge, on the head of the clan that had slain his father, was all for which he had vowed to live, until the deed of death was accomplished, or he himself was laid in the dust. He remembered, with loathing unspeakable, the words which he had uttered; his heart felt crushed within him; and he stood without speaking a word, until his horrorstricken friend seized him by the hand, and roused him from the fearful reverie into which he had so suddenly fallen.
"I thank you--I thank you," cried Maxwell, abstractedly; "but I forget.
Your roof can shelter me no more. I must leave you now--ay, this very instant."
"But, my dear friend," said the marquis, interrupting him, "why do you speak of departure? I did not mean offence, and let none be taken."
"Nay, nay, I am not offended at aught: you have reminded me of my duty; and every moment that I stay here is a moment lost. I must to horse."
"But not without telling me why you leave me so abruptly. You say I have not offended you; and yet you talked not of departure until this moment.
If the reason be one that can be told, why should you conceal it from your warmest friend?"
"My father"s death is unavenged. I have loitered here like a dull slave shrinking from his task. I have forfeited my faith--I have broken my oath. I must redeem the one, and fulfil the other."
"What task? what faith? what oath?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the marquis, hurriedly.
"I have told you the task--to revenge my father"s death! I have sworn that, until the life"s-blood of his foe be sprinkled on the earth, I will not rest by day or by night--I will not enjoy land, power, or life itself, except as the means of accomplishing my purpose. I will remain unwedded--I will possess no hope in earth or in heaven, save one--the hope of revenge. I have broken my faith; for I have not laboured without ceasing, but have lazily sojourned under this roof. That faith must be redeemed by the fulfilment of my vow. Should the fair lady of whom you spoke," he added, in a tone little elevated above a whisper, "deign to look down on one so unworthy, she will see me a suitor at her feet whenever my first duty has been discharged."
The remonstrances of the marquis could avail nothing, and Lord Maxwell sallied forth from Craignethan Castle. The prohibitions of his sovereign had no power to prevent the baron and his va.s.sals from renewing hostilities against their hereditary enemies. The awakened chief hastened, despite the royal mandate, to his native possessions; the joyous news of his return spread, in a day, from Thrieve Castle to the remotest hamlet in Eskdale--for the authority of the Maxwells extended over the vast district of country which lies on the Scottish side of the Solway. Immediate preparations were made for an incursion into Annandale. But these movements did not take place without the knowledge of Sir James Johnstone, who, on his side, mustered his va.s.sals, and obtained reinforcements of royal troops, for the purpose of protecting his own territory, as well as enforcing obedience to the will of his sovereign, by compelling Lord Maxwell once more to retire from the Borders. The Lord of Nithsdale proceeded on his expedition, with the view of pursuing his opponent into his fastnesses in the hills; but his schemes were baffled by Sir James Johnstone, who selected a rising ground not very far from the scene of the b.l.o.o.d.y conflict of Dryffe Sands, as an advantageous position for receiving the attack of his enemy. Lord Maxwell had expected that he would have taken his opponent unawares--that he would have found Johnstone"s retainers scattered, and his territory undefended; but, nevertheless, with characteristic impetuosity, he resolved to risk a battle; the disgrace of retreating without striking a blow, the dismay which anything like vacillation was likely to produce among his retainers, and those motives which addressed themselves more directly to his pa.s.sions, all weighed with him, even though he learned that his force was inferior to that of his foe.
The conflict was severe and protracted; but, although Lord Maxwell"s followers fought with desperate courage, they were unable to keep their ground against the large and well-appointed force arrayed against them.
Their leader rallied them once and again; animated them by his own example; called on them to bear themselves as they were wont; reminded them, by one or two words, of former conflicts bravely fought; and did all that he could to secure victory. But his efforts were in vain, and his retainers fled on every side, after the battle had been contested until not a man remained without a wound. He, however, did not join his followers, though they tried to hurry him from the field; but he disengaged himself from their grasp, and, frantic with disappointment, rushed into the midst of his adversaries. The cry, "Take him alive," was instantly heard; and Lord Maxwell, overwhelmed by numbers, and exhausted by his unremitting exertions, was the prisoner of Sir James Johnstone.
But he was not now permitted to choose his own place of retirement; and, after remaining for some days in Annandale, he was conveyed to Edinburgh, and immured in the castle. Solitude, instead of soothing his pa.s.sions, made them more vehement than ever; and the desire of revenge, which had been originally produced on the death of his father, now derived additional energy from his sense of personal injury and suffering.
It could not be supposed that the fate of Lord Maxwell could be regarded by his friends with that cold indifference which is the general feeling among men when misfortune overtakes their neighbours. The ties of clanship had not lost their strength in the days of King James; and other ties, which had been knit under happier circ.u.mstances, were not forgotten in the hour of danger. Lady Margaret Hamilton, who, like persons of the same rank, usually resided in Edinburgh during the winter and spring, heard of the imprisonment of the baron with grief, which, it may be, was not ummingled with joy at the antic.i.p.ation of his presence in the same city; and the resolution that she would endeavour to procure his release was scarcely formed, when she found an agent and coadjutor in the person of a retainer of Lord Maxwell, commonly called Charlie o"
Kirkhouse. This freebooter, who was the baron"s foster brother, was devotedly attached to his chief; and he would have earnestly pet.i.tioned the authorities to place him in attendance on Lord Maxwell, had he not recollected that he would thereby, in a great measure, be prevented from a.s.sisting that n.o.bleman to escape. Charlie, though a shrewd fellow, had been more in the practice of executing than devising schemes; and as he thought it scarcely possible for himself, single-handed, to effect his object, he proceeded to the Marquis of Hamilton"s, for the purpose of obtaining an interview with Lady Margaret, who, as he supposed, would readily give him all the aid in her power. Charlie made his application on the pretext that he wished to visit his chief, and suggested that the marquis could facilitate his free and frequent admission. But Lady Margaret recommended him rather to enlist in the royal service; and, as he would then be received into the castle, he would be better able to a.s.sist Lord Maxwell in any attempt to escape; while, at the same time, he would be able to co-operate with her in any schemes which she might devise for effecting the same object. By dint of perseverance, Charlie overcame the proverbial and preliminary difficulty of making the first step; and, by abusing his chief for a tyrant and everything that was bad (his peculiar dialect told too many tales), he next endeavoured to win the confidence of his superiors, and thus remove the only obstacles which prevented him from obtaining access to the prisoner. This, however, was a much more tedious process than he imagined. Will o"Gunmerlie, a follower of Johnstone, who was stationed in the castle by his chief, with the view of making up for the deficiencies in point of vigilance on the part of the const.i.tuted authorities, retained the clannish dislike of the Nithsdale soldier, and thwarted him so often, that he began almost to despair of success; but he still hoped, by ingratiating himself with some of the superior officers in the garrison, that all obstacles would ere long be overcome.
While he was one day on guard, in the immediate neighbourhood of Lord Maxwell"s prison, one of his comrades approached, accompanied by a youth, whose bonnet was pulled down upon his brows, and whose face was, in consequence, for the most part concealed from view.