Chieftains, forego!
I hold the first who strikes, my foe.
Madmen forbear your frantic jar!
Lady of the Lake.
"Hold all your hands," exclaimed the new comer; "or by Heaven's vengeance, I will run the foremost of you through the body!"
"Who dares to lift his voice thus under my roof-tree?" demanded Millheugh savagely, forcing a passage, dagger in hand, through the throng.
"I dare!—I, Claude Hamilton of Preston," replied the stranger, in whom Florence (now released, and though reclining faint and feebly on a bench) recognized, to his astonishment, the grey-bearded man whom, in Cadzow Forest, he had rescued from mutilation and a dreadful death.
"And think you, carle, that we will obey you?" demanded the Earl of Bothwell contemptuously.
"Perhaps not, were I alone; but when I tell you, lord earl, that I have now a train of thirty horsemen, armed with jack and spear, in the tower court, and that I have but to sound this horn to bring every man to my aid, the face of affairs may be changed. I lost my train in the forest; but fortunately, it would appear, we have reached this place together at a very critical time."
"Hark you, Laird of Preston," said Glencairn angrily; "what are we to understand by all this? Would you attempt to deprive us of a lawful prisoner, whom we have captured at last, and after no small trouble, too? He—this Fawside—is your feudal enemy, and our political opponent, being an emissary of the bloody-minded Guises. Will you, then, dare to befriend him?"
"Ay, even he will I befriend," replied the old man sternly.
"This is rank insanity," exclaimed the Earl of Bothwell; "does one of our own party turn against us thus? And have we ridden five-and-thirty miles or more to find ourselves defrauded of our prey by the mere bullying of an auld carle like this? Forward! again, my men, and string me yonder poppinjay up to the cruick with the rope—not at his waist, but round his knavish neck! Or, if you will make still shorter work, let two take him by the hands, and two by the heels, and by one fell swing dash out his brains against the stone wall! I have seen such done in Venice ere this. I am Patrick Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, and high sheriff of Haddington—who shall dare to gainsay me?"
"Stand back, I command you," thundered the resolute old laird of Preston, grasping his silver-mounted bugle with one hand, while menacing all with one of those long and ponderous two-handed swords then worn by the Scots;—"back, I say; or, by the arm of St. Giles and all that is holy in heaven, I will make hawks' meat of the first man who advances! 'Tis scarcely twelve hours since, when in Cadzow Wood, this youth, though mine enemy, saved me from a frantic white bull, when lying half stunned by a fall from my horse; and blessed be God, who hath enabled me to come hither in time to prevent a deed so foul as you, my lords, contemplate. And now I tell ye, sirs, that were he laden with a horse-load of letters from the Guises, from the Cardinal, the Duke de Mayenne, and from Henry of Valois to boot, he shall ride forth on his way, sakeless and free, escorted by my own followers; and if thou, Allan o' Millheugh, (for weel do I ken thee for a bully and a knave of auld, man!) restore not to him all of which he has been deprived, I will light such a fire in Millheugh Tower as Cadzow Wood hath never seen since its tallest oaks were acorns!"
All present knew that Hamilton of Preston was a resolute man, who would adhere to his word. Defrauded of their prey, the three lords muttered vengeance, and sheathing their swords, retired sullenly into a corner of the hall. The laird of Millheugh attempted to string together a few awkward and absurd apologies, while restoring to Fawside his much-coveted arms and armour, which he hastily put on in silence, and with the sombre fury that filled his heart expressed in every lineament of his agitated face, which was now deathly pale, and marked by more than one wound or bruise, received in the recent struggle.
"Drink, sir; you look faint and ill, after all this rough handling," said Claude of Preston, handing a cup of wine to his young feudal enemy, whose handsome features he scrutinized with an expression of sadness and interest,—for Florence was said to be the living image of his father Sir John, whom Preston slew.
The youth drank the wine, and returned the cup, saying briefly,—
"Sir, I thank you: you, at least, are an honourable enemy—and brave and humane as honourable."
"And such, young man, the Hamiltons of Preston ever found each gentleman of your house to be."
"For that compliment, again I thank you."
He had now completed his arming, in which Preston courteously assisted him; and on drawing his sword, he could no longer restrain the rage and indignation with which his heart was bursting, and in this tide of wrath he included his preserver with his enemies.
"Allen Duthie of Millheugh," said he sternly, while his eyes glared under the peak of his helmet, "I brand thee as a false coward and foul thief; and such I shall prove thee to be, in the face of all men, at a fitting time. I am now ready to depart; and gladly will I do so," he added, with a furtive glance at Preston; "for, of a verity, the air of this place suffocates me."
"Ere ye go," said Preston, drawing off his glove, "Florence Fawside, in presence of these lords and gentlemen, for the good offices that have passed between us, last night and to-day, I offer you my friendship and alliance, to the end that our feud be stanched, and committed to oblivion."
"You ask me this," said the young man with rising anger, "while wearing at your side the same sword that slew my poor father and my brother Willie!"
"Nay, if that be all, though with this sword, my forefather, with his Scots, held the bridge of Verneuil, in Anjou, against Duke Clarence's English billmen, I will shiver the blade to atoms——"
"Keep your sword, Preston," replied Florence; "ere long, you will require it for other purposes. Friendship cannot exist with hatred,—alliance with mistrust."
"You will never live to comb a beard as grey as mine, if you speak thus rashly through life," said Preston grimly.
"I speak like my father's son; and I care not for dying early, if I die as my father lived and died—with honour!"
"'Tis said like the brave son of a brave father; but once more, Fawside, remember you gave me life last night—to-day I give you life and liberty."
"Taunt me not with the service, old man. 'Tis well we are still, I thank God, equal! My blood boils hotly, Preston; and, despite the good you do me, I must remember my vow. Our fathers' feud is but renewed: draw—a life I have given—a life I will peril again, even here; so, come on!"
"In this hostile hall?"
"Where place so fitting as this foul den of would-be murder and robbery?"
"Rash fool! If I am slain, your life will be forfeited," replied the baron, drawing back a pace.
"I care not," replied the youth wildly and mournfully—for the events of the morning had filled his soul with a fury which required an object whereon to expend itself; "at my mother's knee as a child, at the altar of God as a man, I have sworn a thousand times to slay thee, even as ye slew my father under tryst, wherever and whenever I met thee—and now the hour is come!"
During this new dispute, the three lords, and the group around them, looked on and listened with approving smiles; for to them it seemed that Preston had merely come in time to save them the trouble of killing their prisoner.
"If he escape," said Glencairn, "we can beset the paths from Cadzow, and watch for his departure. Our squire-errant rides alone, and must fall an easy prey."
"But," said his son, "if the letters be delivered, what then shall we have?"
"Vengeance!"
"Preston changes colour," said Bothwell, with a sardonic smile; "there will be such a raid in my sheriffdom, as Lothian hath not seen since Sir Ralf Evers, the Englishman, knocked with his gauntlet on the Bristo-gate, at Edinburgh."
"And thereafter had his brains knocked out at Ancrumford," said Kilmaurs, who slew him there; "but, hush, the storm grows apace."
At Fawside's last remark, Preston's wrinkled cheek grew deathly pale.
"Bairn, begone," said he loftily, "lest I send thee to thy mother in a colt's-halter. Go—I scorn the accusation, as I scorn your anger. If I took your father's life in feud, 'twas fairly done in open fray, and not under tryst; and that life I saved twice at Flodden, from the Lord Surrey's band of pikemen. Go—go, I say, and God bless thee;—the wish may be all the better, that it cometh from the lips of a man whose years are wellnigh three score and ten."
"The murderer of my father and my brother! Draw, lest I smite ye where ye stand!"
"Never! your blood is owre red on my hands already."
"Hah, 'tis a coward I am confronting."
"Shame on thee, Fawside, to say so," exclaimed the Earl of Bothwell, who began to watch this strange scene with new and more generous interest.
Preston became fearfully pale, and trembled with emotion, while his staunch henchmen, Mungo Tennant and Symon Brodie, uttered a shout of anger, and drew their swords.
"Recal that bitter word, boy?" said Hamilton, hoarsely.
"Coward, coward!" continued Florence, menacing his throat with the point of his sword.
Preston struck it contemptuously aside with his bare hand, and gasped for breath. He then made an attempt to draw his sword; but relinquishing the hilt, by a violent effort mastered his emotion.
"Boy," said he, "my pride and my spirit are passing away from me. There was a time when, by a glance, I had almost slain thee for an insult such as this—but that day is gone, yea, gone for ever! A coward, I?" he continued, with a wild, choking laugh, while the tears started to his reddened eyes; "rash fool! thy brave father, whose spirit may now witness this meeting, would never so have taunted me; but I am old enough to bear even this from thee. Go, I say, in peace; for on this right Land of mine there is already more than enough of the blood of your family."
In five minutes after this, Florence had left the tower of Millheugh, and found himself riding through the green glades of Cadzow Forest, the upper foliage of which was glittering in the noonday sun.
Mentally he rehearsed his late meeting with Preston, and now his own heart—as his better passions resumed their wonted sway—began to accuse him of acting harshly, and without grace or generosity. Despite himself, his cheek began to redden with a glow of honest shame, for the taunts he had hurled upon a gentleman whose years were so many, and whose high valour had been so often and so undoubtedly proved in battle; but these thoughts were immediately stifled, as the tall form, and grave, resentful face of his stern mother seemed to rise before him, and gave rise to other ideas; then, lest he might be followed by the men of Bothwell or Glencairn, he spurred his fleet grey to a gallop, and pushed on rapidly for the residence of the regent.