_ It was still broad daylight when, at half-past six, Oswald left the inn and sauntered, at a leisurely pace, down the street. His eye at once fell on Roger's tall figure, and he also saw two retainers of the earl, loitering about. They were not the same men he had seen in the morning, but doubtless had relieved those on watch.
He took the first turning off the main street and, after passing through several lanes, found himself at the foot of the town wall. A narrow lane ran between it and a row of small houses. No one was about, and he thought that Roger would take advantage of the loneliness of the spot, to endeavour to rid him of his followers, whose footsteps he could hear some distance behind him. Presently, he glanced carelessly round. The men were some thirty or forty yards behind him; and coming up with them, at a rapid step, was Roger. A minute later, he heard a voice raised in anger.
"Where are you going, fellow? There is plenty of room to pass, without pushing between us. You want teaching manners."
Roger gave a loud laugh.
"Who is going to teach me?" he said.
"I will!" one of the men said, angrily placing his hand upon his sword hilt.
As he did so, he was levelled to the ground by a tremendous blow from Roger's staff. With a shout, the other soldier drew his sword; but, before he could guard himself, the staff again descended, and he fell senseless beside his comrade.
Roger at once knelt beside them, tore off strips of their garments and, rolling them up, pressed them into their mouths; and, with string which he had brought for the purpose, tied them in their place. Then, taking out a few pieces of cord he tied their hands behind them, and their ankles together; dragged them into a dark entry, and left them lying there.
The whole transaction had occupied but two or three minutes, and had attracted no attention, whatever. The soldiers' shout might have been heard; but there was no clashing of weapons, and a shout was too unimportant a matter for anyone within hearing to take any trouble about.
Oswald, seeing that Roger needed no assistance, had occupied himself with stripping off the outer pair of leggings; and had made these, with his cloak and cap, into a bundle; and, pressing the drover's cap down over his eyes, was ready by the time Roger came up to him.
"It was splendidly managed, Roger."
"It did well enough," the other said, carelessly. "It may be an hour before anyone stumbles over them; and, long before that, we shall be at sea."
They made their way back through quiet lanes until near the port, and then boldly went down to the side of a small craft.
"You are just in time, my men," the skipper said. "In another five minutes, we should be throwing off the ropes and hoisting sails. Now that you have come, we shall do so, at once. The tide is just right for us, and we have nothing further to stop for."
The boat was a large fishing smack, and had put into Dunbar but that afternoon, with the intention of disposing of the catch. Two others had, however, come in still earlier. The market being glutted, the skipper had determined to take his catch, which was a heavy one, on to Leith; and had agreed, for a very small sum, to carry the two drovers to that port.
Oswald and Roger aided in getting up the sails, and in a few minutes the smack was at sea. The wind was from the southwest, and the boat ran rapidly up the coast.
"The earl will be in a nice way, when he finds that you have gone," Roger said, as he stood in the stern to watch the rapidly receding towers of Dunbar. "There will be a hot hue and cry for you. The earl is not accustomed to be thwarted, and they say that he is a mighty hot-tempered man. I have no doubt that, as soon as his fellows bring him word of what has happened to them, and he finds that you have quitted the inn, he will send parties of horse out to scour the roads to Berwick and Haddington; and to search the country, far and near."
"He is welcome to do that," Oswald said. "My fear is that he will send down to the port, to inquire if any craft put out about the hour at which his men were attacked. But even if he does so, there is no great chance of our being overtaken. We are travelling fast, and in another hour it will be dark; and long before daybreak we shall reach Leith, having both wind and tide in our favour, all the way."
They kept an anxious watch, as long as there was light enough for them to make out if a vessel left Dunbar. Both fancied that they could see a sail, just as twilight was falling, but neither could be sure that it was not the effect of imagination. They were already ten miles away, and as the tide had now begun to make along the shore, it was certain that for some time, at least, a ship, however fast she might be, would gain but little upon them, until she had fairly entered the Firth. There would be no moon and, even should she overtake them, she might well pass them in the dark.
When they lay down, they agreed that they would keep awake in turns; and that, if they made out a ship apparently pursuing them, they would offer the skipper the full value for his boat, and betake themselves to it, and row for shore.
"The greatest danger," Roger said, "would be of their passing us, unseen; and then lying-to near the entrance of the port, and overhauling us as we came in."
"That is a danger that we cannot guard against. Can you swim, Roger?"
"It is years since I have done so," the monk replied, "but I used to do so, in the old days."
"There is an empty cask here, by my side," Oswald went on. "If we are challenged, the best plan would be to lower it down, quietly, into the water; and to hold on by it. The boat would certainly go some distance, before she had lost her way and brought up; and we should be out of sight of both ships, before they came together."
"That is a good idea. If we hear a hail, I will at once cut a good length of rope, and twist it round a barrel for us to hold on by. But I don't think there is any chance of our being overhauled."
"I agree with you in that respect; still, it is just as well to have our plans prepared, in case it should happen."
They kept a vigilant watch through the night, without catching sight of any craft proceeding in the same direction as themselves.
It was still dark when the helmsman hailed the skipper: "I see the lights of Leith ahead," and later they passed the beacon fire that marked the entrance to the port. Five minutes later Oswald and his companion, after paying the sum agreed on, stepped on shore.
"That danger is over. I did not think that there was any real cause for fear. I should like to see the earl, as his bands of horsemen ride in, today, with the news that they can hear nothing of us."
"I should like to hit him just such a clout, with my staff, as I gave his two retainers," Roger said. "Earl as he is, it was scandalous, and contrary to all usages, to arrest a messenger; especially when that messenger is an esquire of one of equal rank to himself, and his message, as I suppose, a friendly one."
"I don't so much blame him. He had no means of judging my discretion; and the consequences, to him and others, had I fallen into the hands of Douglas, or those of a marauding leader, might have been serious, indeed. I doubt not that, had I been content to stay with him, he would have treated me with all honour. I might even have done so, and have got him to send another messenger to Percy; but the latter bade me to return at once, and moreover said that he had another mission, as soon as I had carried the present one to a successful termination."
"And have you done so, Master Oswald?"
"Yes, I think so, Roger. I was to ascertain the earl's real intentions regarding certain matters, and I think that he means honestly to adhere to an offer he made. The very fear that he has shown, lest his intentions should be betrayed, seems to prove that he is most anxious that naught should occur to interfere with his plans."
"The Earls of Dunbar have ever been a treacherous race," Roger said earnestly, "and ready to betray their own countrymen, in order to curry favour with England, and continue in possession of their estates. However, as we have benefited from it, we need not grumble, if the Scots are contented.
"Now, Master Oswald, what are we to do next?"
"I should say that we had better find a corner to lie down, until daybreak. I don't think that either of us have slept. Then we will go into a tavern and breakfast, and afterwards go on to Edinburgh. I should like to see the town and castle, and the chance may never come again to me.
"Then, tomorrow morning, we will start in earnest. We shall have plenty of opportunities to talk over our plans, so let us lose no time, now, in looking for a bed."
Fortunately, they soon came upon some fishing nets, carelessly piled under the lee of a stack of timber. Here they threw themselves down, and were soon fast asleep.
When they woke, the sun was well up. Fishermen were preparing to get up sail; and those who had, like themselves, come in during the night, were commencing to unload their cargoes.
"Look there!" Oswald exclaimed, as he pointed to a vessel, from whose masthead floated a flag with the arms of the Earl of March. "She is just entering the port. They did chase us after all, you see, but they did not gain on our fishing boat."
"Well, methinks that we had better be off, at once," Roger said. "They will soon learn which boat has come from Dunbar, and find out from the men what were the disguises worn by us. So we had best lose no time in getting out of Leith."
"They would never dare to seize us, here," Oswald said.
"I don't know that. If they have strict orders to bring us back, they would not feel much hesitation in seizing us, wherever they found us; knowing well enough that the burghers of Leith would not concern themselves greatly about the capture of two drovers, who would probably be charged with all sorts of crime. Were it one of their own citizens, it would be different; but it is scarce likely that the burghers would care to quarrel, with a powerful noble, for the sake of two strangers of low degree. The gates will be open before this, and we shall be safer in Edinburgh than we are here."
Accordingly, they postponed their breakfast and, passing through the town without a pause, issued out by the south gate, and walked briskly to Edinburgh. As soon as they arrived, they found a small tavern, and partook of a hearty meal. Listening while they ate to the conversation going on around them, they found that the young Duke of Rothesay was, at present, staying at the castle.
"Men say that the disputes between him and his uncle, the Duke of Albany, have of late grown hotter."
"That might well be," another said. "Rothesay is a man, now. He has shown himself a brave soldier, and it is not likely that he would support, with patience, the haughtiness and overbearing manner of Albany. It was an evil day for Scotland when our good king, who was then but prince, lamed himself for life; and so was forced, on his accession, to leave the conduct of affairs to Albany, then Earl of Fife. The king, as all men know, is just and good, and has at heart the welfare of his subjects; but his accident has rendered him unfit to take part in public affairs, and he loves peace and quiet as much as Albany loves intrigues, and dark and devious ways. 'Tis a sore pity that the king cannot make up his mind to throw himself into the arms of Douglas, and call upon the nobility to join in expelling Albany from his councils; and to give the charge of affairs into the hands of Rothesay, or even to bestow upon him the kingly dignity, while he himself retires to the peaceful life he loves."
"That would have been better done," the other said, "before the young duke married; for many of the nobles, who would have otherwise supported him, would hold aloof, seeing that the accession of Rothesay would be but handing over the real power of the state from Albany to Douglas. Men say that the feud between March and Douglas grows hotter and hotter, and that the boldness with which March upbraided the king, for the breaking off by Rothesay of his marriage with Elizabeth of Dunbar, has so angered him, Rothesay, and Albany, who had aided in bringing about the match with Elizabeth Douglas, that 'tis like that March will, ere long, be arraigned for his conduct, and the threats that he uttered in his passion."
"Well, gossips, it matters little to us," an elderly man said. "Whether king or prince or duke is master, we have to pay; and assuredly, were Rothesay king, our taxes would not abate; seeing that he is extravagant and reckless, though I say not that he has not many good qualities. But these benefit, in no way, men like ourselves; while the taxation to support extravagance touches us all."
There was a murmur of assent from the little group who were talking, who struck Oswald as being farmers, who had come in from the country to sell cattle to the butchers of the town. They were interrupted in their talk by the landlord, who came across to them.
"My good friends," he said, "I pray you talk not so loudly concerning princes and nobles. It is true that we are a royal city, and that the burghers of Edinburgh have their rights and their liberties; nevertheless, it were dangerous to talk loud concerning nobles. We are quiet people all, and none here wear the cognizance of Douglas or Albany. Still, it would do me much harm, were it reported that there had been talk here concerning such powerful nobles; and though the Douglas might care little what was said of him, methinks that there are others--I name no names--who would spare neither great nor small who incurred their resentment."
"I knew not that we were talking loudly, John Ker; and methinks that none, save the two men at the near table, have heard our words; and they look honest fellows enough. Still, what you say is right, and while we may talk of these things by our firesides, 'tis best to keep a silent tongue, while abroad."
"You need not disquiet yourself about us," Roger broke in. "We have no communion with lords or princes; and, so that we can drive our herds safely down into Cumberland, we care not whether one noble or another has the king's ear. We have but just returned, from England."
"Well, man, I may put you in the way of getting a job, if you want one," the eldest of the party said. "I myself have a small farm, near Lavingston, and but breed cattle for the Edinburgh market; but I have a brother, at Lanark, who buys cattle up in the north; and, when there is peace between the countries, sends the droves down to Carlisle, and makes a good profit on their sales. I saw him but two hours ago, and he told me that he was daily expecting a lot of cattle from the north; and that he intended to send them on, without delay, to Carlisle. If you say to him that you have seen me, and that I recommended you to call on him, and see if he wanted any drovers to aid in taking them down; I doubt not he will take you on, unless he has already engaged men."
"I thank you for the offer," Roger said, "but our home lies near Roxburgh, and we intend to abide there for a time; for the roads are by no means safe, at present. Douglas is thinking more of his quarrel with Dunbar than of keeping down border freebooters. We escaped them this time; but we heard of their taking heavy toll from some herds that followed us, and of their killing two or three drovers who offered objection; so we have determined to abide at home, for a time, to see how matters go."
After taking a brief view of the town they started, in the afternoon, to walk to Dalkeith, where they slept; and, leaving there at daybreak, crossed a lofty range of hills, and came down into Lauderdale. They had no fear of any interruption such as they had experienced before--as, had Douglas news of negotiations going on between March and England, he would not think it necessary to watch the road between Edinburgh and the border--and late in the evening they arrived at Ancrum, on the Teviot, having done fully fifty miles, since starting.
Ten miles in the morning took them to Roxburgh. Here they put up at a small tavern, and Oswald donned the servitor's suit that he had brought with him from Dunbar; while Roger, to his great disgust, resumed his monk's gown, which he put on over the drover's suit.
Oswald then went to the governor's. His former acquaintance happened to be at the door, and endeavoured to atone for his former rudeness, by at once ushering him to the governor's room.
"Welcome back, Master Forster!" the latter said. "Your mission, whatever it was, is speedily terminated. From what you said, I had not looked for you for another fortnight."
"If I had not come when I did," Oswald said, "my absence might have been prolonged, for months. However, all has gone well, and I purpose starting at once for Alnwick, and would fain reach Wooler by nightfall."
"That you can do, easily enough. I will order the horses to be saddled, at once."
"I thank you, Sir Philip. I will mount here in the courtyard. I care not, now, what notice may be taken of me; seeing that there is but some ten miles to be ridden, to the frontier."
"Nor, I warrant me, will you meet with interference on the road," the knight said. "I have not heard of anyone being stopped for toll, for the past year, between this and the border."
A quarter of an hour later they left Roxburgh; and, travelling at an easy pace, arrived at Wooler before sunset; and on the following evening entered Alnwick. They could have reached it earlier, but Oswald thought it as well not to enter the castle until after dark, as he did not wish to be noticed in his present attire.
Fastening the horses to hooks in the courtyard, Oswald ran up to his apartment, which was next to that of his uncle.
"Welcome back, Oswald!" the latter said, as he opened his door on hearing his footsteps. "I had thought that you would be longer away."
"I am back sooner than I expected, Uncle. Will you order supper to be brought up here, for Roger and myself? We are both hard set; though, indeed, we had a meal of bread and cheese, at noon, at a wayside tavern."
"Brother Roger has behaved well?"
"Excellently. He has cracked but two sconces since we left, and these were on my behalf. He will sleep on some rushes in my room, tonight. He hates the thought of returning to the monastery, and has begged me, most earnestly, to ask Percy to continue him in his employment."
As soon as Oswald had donned his ordinary attire, he went to Lord Percy's quarters.
"You are back sooner than I had expected, Oswald," Hotspur said, as he entered. "Nothing has gone wrong, I hope?"
"Nothing, my lord, but I was forced to leave Dunbar, after but three days' stay there; for the earl was so fearful that I might be detected, on my way back, that he would have retained me with him until the time for action came; sending down another messenger, by sea, to you. As your orders were to return with all speed, I gave him the slip, and made my way back as quickly as possible."
"And March?"
"I think that the earl is in earnest in his professions, my lord; and that you can rely upon him for such aid as he can render. But, from what I heard in Edinburgh--"
"In Edinburgh!" Hotspur said, in surprise; "what took you there?"
"I will tell you, my lord; but the point is that men said openly, there, that there was a report that he would be attainted, and deprived of his land, for treasonable words spoken by him to the king, the Duke of Albany, and the Duke of Rothesay. If this is so, he will have to fly; for assuredly he has, at present, no force gathered that could resist those of the king and Douglas."
"Give me an account of what has happened," Hotspur said, frowning. "I feared that March's impetuous temper would lead him into trouble, before we were in a position to march to his assistance; and I heard rumours of a stormy scene between him and Rothesay, when he learned that he had been fooled; but I knew not that the king, himself, was present."
Oswald related the story of his journey, and the interruption on the moor; and the reports, that he had afterwards heard, of the stoppage of all travellers coming from the south, by the same band.
"The leader was evidently above the rank of an ordinary marauder, and his followers obeyed him as men-at-arms would obey an officer; and it seemed to me, my lord, that Douglas must have heard a vague report that the earl was in communication with England; and sought to intercept some messenger, on whom he might find a letter, or from whom he could extract proofs of the earl's treachery."
"'Tis like enough," Hotspur said. "When a man is so rash as to upbraid the king, and still more Albany, he must needs fall under suspicion. Now, go on with your story."
When Oswald had brought his narration to an end, Percy said:
"You have done very well, Oswald, and have deserved the confidence that I placed in you. You have shown much circumspection, and you did well in escaping from Dunbar, as you did. The mad monk, too, seems to have behaved well. I doubted your wisdom in taking him, but he has certainly proved a useful fellow."
"I would petition, my lord, that you should continue him in your service; and that, should you employ me upon another mission, you will again allow me to take him with me. He is a shrewd fellow, as well as a stout one, and I could wish for no better companion; though I own that, since he put on his gown again at Roxburgh, and rode hither, his spirits have greatly failed him."
"I will arrange that with the abbot," Hotspur said; "but tell him that, while he is here, he must continue to wear his robe. His face is too well known for him to pass as a man-at-arms, without being recognized by half the garrison. The Lord Abbot would well object to one of his monks turning into a swaggering man-at-arms, at his very door.
"At any rate, I shall tell the abbot that, if he will consent quietly to the monk's unfrocking himself, until he can obtain for him release from his vows; I will scud him away to one of the other castles, whence I can fetch him, if you need him to accompany you on any errand, and where he can form part of the regular garrison. But the knave must be informed that it were best that he say nought about his former profession, and that he comport himself as quietly as is in his nature.
"I will give him a small command, as soon as may be; for although a very bad monk, he has proved himself to be a good soldier."
"I thank you greatly, my lord," Oswald said; "and will talk seriously to the monk, who will be delighted when he hears that the abbot will take steps to allow him to lay aside his gown."
Roger was, indeed, delighted when he heard the news; and still more so when, three days later, Oswald informed him that Hotspur had obtained, from the abbot, what was practically a release from his vows. The good abbot said that he felt that harm, rather than good, would ensue from keeping the monk a member of the monastery.
"He infects the lay brothers, with his talk," he said. "He is a good instructor in arms, but he teaches not as one who feels that it is a dire necessity to carry arms, but as one who delights in it. Moreover, he causes scandals by his drinking bouts, and does not add to the harmony of the place. At a time like this, when the Scots may, at any moment, fall across the border, such a fellow may do good service to his country; and it is surely better that a man should be a good soldier, than that he should be a bad monk. Therefore I will let him go, my lord; but keep him away from here. It would be a grave scandal, were he to be brawling in the town where he is known. Therefore, I pray you, take him elsewhere. I have striven long to make him a worthy member of his order, but I feel that it is beyond me; and it would be best, therefore, that he should go his own way. He may come to be a worthy soldier, and so justify me in allowing him to unfrock himself.
"As he is abiding in your castle, I pray you bid him present himself here, tomorrow. I would fain speak to him, and give him such advice, concerning his future conduct, as may be of benefit to him."
When Roger returned from the monastery, the next day, he wore a much more serious face than usual.
"The abbot has done me more good, by his talk this morning," he said to Oswald, "than by all the lectures and penances he has ever imposed on me. In truth, he is a good man, and I had half a mind to say that I would return to the convent, and do my best to comport myself mildly and becomingly.
"But I felt that it would not do, Oswald. The thing is too strong for me and, however I might strive, I know that when the temptation came I should break out again; and so, I held my peace."
"What did he say to you, Roger?"
"He said many things, but the gist of it was that there were as good men outside the walls of a monastery as there were within it, and that a soldier has as many opportunities--indeed many more opportunities--of showing himself a good man as a monk has. In battle, he said, a soldier must act as such, and fight stoutly against the enemy, and take life as well as risk his own; but after the fight is over he should show himself merciful, and if he cannot follow out the precept to love his enemies, he should at least be compassionate and kind to them. But above all, he should never oppress the helpless, should comport himself honourably and kindly to women and children, and, if necessary, draw sword in their defence against those who would ill use them. And, though the spoils of war were honourable and necessary, when captured in fair fight, yet the oppression and robbery of the poor were deadly crimes.
"'Comport yourself always, Roger, as if, though a soldier in arms, you were still a monk at heart. You are brave and strong, and may rise to some honour; but, whether or no, you may bear yourself as if you were of gentle blood, and wore knightly spurs. Not all who are so are honourable and merciful, as they have vowed to be. Remember, I shall hear of you from time to time, through my Lord Percy; and that it will gladden me to have a good account of you, and to feel that I have not done wrong in letting you go forth, from this house of rest, to take part in the turmoil and strife of the world.'
"He said more than this, but this is the pith of it. I knelt down, and swore that I would strive, to the utmost in my power, to do as he bade me; and he put his hands on my head, and bade me go in peace; and I tell you, I mean to prove to him that his words have not been in vain."
Two days later, Oswald started with Roger, and rode to Warkworth Castle, some ten miles away; bearing an order to the governor to add Roger to the strength of the garrison, telling him that he had shown himself to be a brave soldier, and a skilful one, and that he could place confidence in him, and appoint him to any sub-command that might become vacant.
On the way, they entered a wood. Here Roger took off his monastic garb, and clad himself in armour such as was worn by the garrison of Alnwick. The monk's clothes were made up into a bundle, and left in the wood, Oswald saying:
"I will carry them back with me, on my return, Roger. It may be that they may come in useful, yet, if you and I travel together again in the Percys' service."
A month passed, and then the Earl of March came, by sea, to Alnwick. Douglas and the regent had marched against him with an overwhelming force; and, as they were both personal enemies, he knew that his fate would be sealed if he fell into their hands, and he had therefore been driven to declare himself, openly, as a vassal of the English king.
On the day after his arrival he happened to be in Hotspur's room, when Oswald entered.
"Ah! ah!" he said, "This is your messenger, Percy.
"You left me with scant notice, sir."
And he smiled.
"I was forced to do so, my lord earl; for, in truth, I was not sure that you would not prevent me from following my lord's orders, to return after seeing you."
"You were right. In the first place, I was not sure that you were a true messenger; and in the second place, I feared that you might, on return, fall into the hands of the Douglases; who would speedily find means to wring from you an account of your mission. Therefore, I thought that it were best that you should tarry a while with me, at Dunbar.
"The young fellow has a good head, Lord Percy, and is as hard to hold as a wildcat. I put the matter of watching him into the hands of two or three of my men, whose wits I have tried more than once, and know them to be among the most trustworthy of my followers. This lad, however, outwitted them. How, they have never been able to explain; but my fellows were found, trussed up like fowls for roasting, in an alley into which they had been thrown; having, as they declared, been knocked down by a giant fellow, who sprung from they knew not where, just as they were about to lay hands upon your messenger. After they had vanished, none had seen him pass the walls, and we judged that he must have started in a craft that sailed up the Forth. Fearing that, if they landed, he might speedily fall into the hands of Douglas, I sent a vessel in chase; but they missed him, and indeed, from that time to this I knew not, save by your letter to me, whether he had reached here safely."
After a short stay, the Earl of March was about to return to Dunbar; when he heard that the king, himself, was coming north with an army for the invasion of Scotland, and would then confer with him, and consider the terms on which he proposed to transfer his allegiance to him. A month later the king arrived at Alnwick, and there George Dunbar, Earl of March, entered into an agreement with him; in which he renounced all fealty to the King of Scotland, in consideration for which he was granted an estate in Lincolnshire, and other revenues. It was also agreed that the subjects of the King of England should support the earl, in time of necessity; and should be supported by him, and received into his fortresses.
He was not, now, in a position to render any very efficient aid to the king; for Robert Maitland, his nephew, to whom he had committed the castle of Dunbar, had been summoned by Douglas, who had marched there with a strong force, by order of the king, and had surrendered the stronghold to him. However, he brought Dunbar's wife and family, and a considerable force of his retainers, safely across the border.
He and Percy, together, then made a raid into the Douglas territory; and penetrated as far as Haddington, and collected much spoil from the country round. Douglas, however, came suddenly upon them in great force, and they were obliged to retreat hastily across the frontier again, abandoning their baggage and booty.
The king's invasion was no more satisfactory. The Earl of March was unable to place Dunbar in his hands; and, as the Scots declined battle in the open, he laid siege to Edinburgh, but without success. Dunbar being closed to him, he was unable to obtain provisions, and was forced to fall back to England, having accomplished nothing.
During his invasion, he had shown much more leniency than had been the custom with his predecessors. He had taken what was necessary to support the army, but had abstained from wasting the country, destroying villages and towns, and slaughtering the country people; and, so far from embittering the animosity between the two nations, he had produced a better state of feeling; and a truce was, in consequence, concluded for a year, at Kelso, by special commissioners from both kings, on the 21st of December, 1400. _