The Three Perils Of Man. James Hogg

laughing with his lips shut; ‘My lady’s so pleasant, and so kind, but – Oh – no, no – you wrong her, knight; h’m, h’m, h’m! But, all joking and gibing aside – my lady’s very pleasant. I came express to inform you, Sir Ringan, that the Douglasses are up.’

      ‘I knew it.’

      ‘And the Maxwells – and the Gordons – and the hurkle-backed Hendersons.’

      ‘Well.’

      ‘And Sir Christopher Seton is up – and the Elliots and the Laird of Tibbers is up.’

      ‘Well, well.’

      ‘I came expressly to inform you––’

      ‘Came with piper’s news,’ said the lady, ‘which the fiddler has told before you.’

      ‘That is very good,’ said Dickie, ‘My lady is so delightfully pleasant – I thought Sir Ringan would be going to rise with the rest, and came for directions as to raising my men.’

      ‘How many men can the powerful Laird of Dryhope muster in support of the warden?’ said Lady Mountcomyn.

      ‘Mine are all at his command; my worthy lady knows that,’ said Dickie, bowing: ‘Every one at his command.’

      ‘I think,’ said she, ‘that at the battle of Blakehope you furnished only two, who were so famished with hunger that they could not bear arms, far less fight.’

      ‘Very pleasant, in sooth; h’m, h’m! I declare I am delighted with my lady’s good humour.’

      ‘You may, however, keep your couple of scare-crows at home for the present, and give them something to eat,’ continued she; ‘the warden has other matters to mind than wasting his vassals that the Douglas may wive.’

      ‘Very true, and excellent good sense,’ said Dickie.

      ‘We’ll talk of that anon,’ said Sir Ringan. And with that they went into the castle, and sat down to dinner. There were twelve gentlemen and nine maidens present, exclusive of the knight’s own family, and they took their places on each side as the lady named them. When Sir Ringan lifted up his eyes and saw the station that Dickie occupied, he was dissatisfied, but instantly found a remedy. ‘Davie’s Pate,’ said he to the lad that waited behind him, ‘mak that bowiefu’ o’ cauld plovers change places wi’ yon saut-faut instantly, before meat be put to mouth.’ The order was no sooner given than obeyed, and the new arrangement placed Dickie fairly above the salt.

      The dining apparatus at the castle of Mountcomyn was homely, but the fare was abundant. A dozen yeomen stood behind with long knives, and slashed down the beef and venison into small pieces, which they placed before the guests in wooden plates, so that there was no knife used at the dining board. All ate heartily, but none with more industry than Dickie, who took not even time all the while to make the complaisant observation, that ‘my lady was so pleasant.’

      Dinner being over, the younger branches of the family retired, and all the kinsmen not of the first rank, pretending some business that called them away, likewise disappeared; so that none were left with the knight and his lady save six. The lady tried the effect of several broad hints on Dickie, but he took them all in good part, and declared that he never saw his lady so pleasant in his life. And now a serious consultation ensued, on the propriety of lending assistance to the Douglas. Sir Ringan first put the question to his friends, without any observation. The lady took up the argument, and reasoned strongly against the measure. Dickie was in raptures with his lady’s good sense, and declared her arguments unanswerable. Most of the gentlemen seemed to acquiesce in the same measure, on the ground that, as matters stood, they could not rise at the Douglas’ call on that occasion, without being considered as a subordinate family, which neither the king nor the Douglas had any right to suppose them; and so strongly and warmly ran the argument on that side, that it was likely to be decided on, without the chief having said a word on the subject. Simon of Gemelscleuch alone ventured to dissent; ‘I have only to remark, my gallant kinsmen,’ said he, ‘that our decision in this matter is likely to prove highly eventful. Without our aid the force of the Douglas is incompetent to the task, and the castle will then remain in the hands of the English, than which nothing can be more grievously against our interest. If he be defeated, and forfeit his lands, the power of the Border will then remain with us; but should he succeed without our assistance, and become the king’s son-in-law, it will be a hard game with us to keep the footing that we have. I conceive, therefore, that in withdrawing our support we risk every thing – in lending it, we risk nothing but blows.’ All the kinsmen were silent. Dickie looked at my Lady Mountcomyn.

      ‘It is well known that there is an old prophecy existing,’ said she, ‘that a Scott shall sit in the Douglas’ chair, and be lord of all his domains. Well would it be for the country if that were so. But to support the overgrown power of that house is not the way to accomplish so desirable an object.’

      ‘That is true,’ said Dickie; ‘I’ll defy any man to go beyond what my lady says, or indeed whatever she says.’

      ‘Have we not had instances of their jealousy already?’ continued she.

      ‘We have had instances of their jealousy already,’ said Dickie, interrupting her.

      ‘And should we raise him to be the king’s son-in-law, he would kick us for our pains,’ rejoined she.

      ‘Ay, he would kick us for our pains,’ said Dickie; ‘think of that.’

      ‘Either please to drop your responses, Sir,’ said she, sternly, ‘or leave the hall. I would rather hear a raven croak on my turret in the day of battle, than the tongue of a flatterer or sycophant.’

      ‘That is very good indeed,’ said Dickie; ‘My lady is so pleasant; h’m, h’m, h’m! Excellent! h’m, h’m, h’m!’

      Sir Ringan saw his lady drawing herself up in high indignation; and dreading that his poor kinsman would bring on himself such a rebuke as would banish him the hall for ever, he interposed. ‘Cousin,’ said he, ‘it’s a great fault in women that they canna bide interruption, an’ the mair they stand in need o’t they take it the waur. But I have not told you all yet: a very singular circumstance has happened to me this day. Who do you think I found waylaying me at my gate, but our kinsman, the powerful old warlock, Master Michael Scott.’

      ‘Master Michael Scott!’ exclaimed the whole circle, every one holding up his hands, ‘has he ventured to be seen by man once more? Then there is something uncommon to befal, or, perhaps, the world is coming to an end.’

      ‘God forbid!’ said Redhough: ‘It is true that, for seven years, he has been pent up in his enchanted tower at Aikwood, without speaking to anyone save his spirits; but though I do not know him, this must have been he, for he has told me such things as will astonish you; and, moreover, when he left me, he laid himself down on the top of the Little Law on his back, and the devils carried him away bodily through the air, or down through the earth, and I saw no more of him.’

      All agreed that it had been the great magician Master Michael Scott. Sir Ringan then rehearsed the conversation that had passed between the wizard and himself. All the circle heard this with astonishment; some with suspense, and others with conviction, but Dickie with raptures of delight. ‘He assured me,’ said Redhough, ‘that my son should ride on his own land from Roxburgh to the Deadwater-fell.’

      ‘From Roxburgh to the Deadwater-fell!’ cried Dickie, ‘think of that! all the links of the bonny Teviot and Slitterick, ha, ha, lads, think of that!’ and he clapped his hands aloud without daring to turn his eyes to the head of the table.

      ‘And from the Deadwater-fell to the tower o’ Sark,’ rejoined the knight.

      ‘To the tower of Sark!’ exclaimed Dickie. ‘H – have a care of us! think of that! All the dales of Liddel, and Ewes, and the fertile fields of Cannobie! Who will be king of the Border, then, my lads? who will be king of the Border then? ha, ha, ha!’

      ‘And from the fords of Sark