CHAPTER XLIV.
What had become of Gowrie while this dark tragedy was enacted above? He was standing, as I have said, talking with Sir Thomas Erskine and a considerable party of noblemen and gentlemen, in the street, at a little distance from his own gate, when suddenly the window above was thrown open, and the king's head thrust forth. Bailie Roy had sidled up towards the group of courtiers; and he instantly looked up, while the Duke of Lennox, at the first sounds of James's outcry, exclaimed, "That is the king's voice, Mar, be he where he will."
"Treason! treason!" shouted Bailie Roy. "Treason against the king!--Ring the common bell!--Call the town to arms!--Treason! treason!"
At the same moment, and without an instant's pause, Lennox, Mar, Lindores, and others, rushed into the court, as I have before stated, and up the broad stairs, and Sir Thomas Erskine, his brother James, and George Wilson, the servant of the latter, sprang at Gowrie's throat, and seized him by the neck, crying, without proof or even probability, "Traitor, this is thy deed! Thou shalt die!"
Totally unarmed, and assailed by three strong armed men, the young earl, notwithstanding his great personal vigour, must have been overpowered in an instant, and probably would have been slain on the spot, for he made no resistance, merely exclaiming, with a look of consternation, "What is the matter?--I know nothing!"
But at that moment Alexander Ruthven of Freeland started forward to his aid, and having no sword, struck Sir Thomas Erskine to the ground with a buffet, while Mr. Cranston and Donald Macduff rushed forth from the court to the rescue of their lord. Almost at the same time, the voice of Ramsay was heard shouting to Sir Thomas Erskine from the window above; and springing up from the ground, Erskine ran into the court with George Wilson, the servant, and rushed up the narrow turnpike stairs after Herries, to finish the murderous work which had begun in the tower.
Freed from the fell hands which had grasped his throat, Gowrie gazed round bewildered, exclaiming, "My God! what can this mean?"
"Arm, arm, my lord!" cried Macduff; "they are for murdering you on pretence of treason."
But Gowrie rushed immediately towards the palace gates, exclaiming, "Where is the king? I go to aid him."
As he approached, however, the gates were suddenly closed in his face by his own porter, Christie, and a voice called through the bars, "Traitor, you enter not here!"
"Arm, in God's name, or they will take your life!" cried Cranston, seeing a number of the Murrays and the king's followers gathering round.
"That I will," answered Gowrie, now roused to anger. "Away to Glenorchie's! He will give us arms;" and running with all speed about a couple of hundred yards down the street, he entered the large old house of a friend of his family, and seized a sword and steel cap from amongst many that hung in the outer hall.
"Here's a better blade, my noble lord!" cried Glenorchie's old porter; "take them both--one may fail!"
Thus armed with a sword in either hand, Gowrie rushed out again, exclaiming, "I will either enter my own house or die by the way."
"I am with you, my lord," cried Cranston, meeting him; and at the same moment his page, who was running down the street, exclaimed, "Let me fasten your salat, my lord; it will fall off."
Gowrie paused for an instant till the steel cap was clasped under his chin, and then hurried on to the entrance of the Great House.
But a change had taken place. The gates were wide open; the servants and retainers who had followed the king from Falkland, were all either in the house or at the further side of the court; and without pausing to ask any question, Gowrie rushed to the narrow stair at the foot of the southwest tower, and ran up, followed close by his faithful attendant, Cranston.
The door at the top, leading into the gallery chamber, was partly closed, and a shoulder placed against it; but Gowrie pushed it open, exclaiming, "Where is the king?--I come to defend him with my life," and at once entered the room with the two naked swords in his hands. Before him lay a dead body bleeding profusely, and partly covered with the king's cloak.
"You have killed the king, our master," cried Herries, "and will you now take our lives?"
Gowrie's strength seemed to fail him in a moment--His brain reeled--and pausing suddenly in his advance, he dropped the swords' points to the floor, exclaiming, "Ah, woe is me! Has the king been slain in my house?"
Without reply, Ramsay sprang fiercely upon him, and, unresisted, drove his dagger into the young earl's heart.
Gowrie did not fall at once, but for one instant leaned upon the sword in his right hand, without attempting to strike a blow. Cranston sprang forward to support him, and caught him in his arms; but the earl sank slowly to the ground, and with the indistinct murmur of one well-loved name, expired.
The murderers gazed upon their victim for a moment in silence; but it was no time now for hesitation or inactivity. They were four in number, it is true, and there remained but one living man opposed to them in the gallery chamber; but the sound of persons ascending the turret-staircase was heard, and Erskine rushed upon Cranston with his sword drawn.
Cranston, furious at the base treatment of a lord he loved and reverenced, instantly repelled the attack, and, no mean swordsman, wounded Erskine in hand and arm; but all the others fell upon him, and drove him back to the head of the staircase. Succour, however, was near; for three gentlemen, headed by Hugh Moncrief, who had dined with the earl that day, alarmed by the tumult, and the vague rumours that were circulated below, were now rushing up--unhappily, too late--to the assistance of the noble friend whom they had lost for ever. Unprepared for meeting immediate hostility, however, they were encountered at the very entrance of the room by those who were too ready to receive them, and after a sharp but short encounter were driven down, as well as Cranston, into the court-yard. Hugh Moncrief, Patrick Eviot, and Henry Ruthven of Freeland, forced their way into the street, and joined a small knot of the dead earl's friends collected under the window; but Cranston, less fortunate, was taken in the court-yard.
The situation of the king, however, was less safe than he had imagined it would be. There was much tumult in the streets of Perth, where the family of the dead had ever been extremely popular; and when James, informed that the deed he had long meditated was fully executed, came forth from the cabinet, it was with a pale face, for seditious cries were rising up from beneath the windows, and one of the most loyal towns in Scotland was well nigh in a state of insurrection.
"Give us our noble provost," cried one, "or the king's green coat shall pay for it."
"Come down, thou son of Signor David!" shouted another; "thou hast slain an honester man than thyself."
The next minute, however, the head of Robert Brown, one of the king's lacquies, appeared at the door of the gallery-chamber, to which he had crept quietly, and casting himself on his knees before James, he said, "God save your majesty! There are the Duke of Lennox and Earl of Mar, with eight or ten of your best friends, in the gallery there, but they can not get in to your help, for the door is locked."
"God's sake! let them in!" cried James; and strange to say! from amongst the party present, the key of the gallery door was produced, and Lennox and the other gentlemen admitted.
The door was instantly locked again, although the purposes for which it had been first secured were now accomplished. Fortunately for the king was such precaution taken; for, almost immediately after, a number of Gowrie's friends and servants rushed to the gallery, loudly demanding their lord and kinsman. Vain efforts were made to burst open the door; swords were thrust through where a crevice gave the means, and one of the Murrays, leaning against the partition, was wounded in the leg. The voice of Alexander Ruthven of Freeland was then heard exclaiming, "My lord duke, for God's sake tell me the truth! How goes it with my Lord of Gowrie?"
"He is well," answered Lennox, in a sad tone. "But thou art a fool. Go thy way: thou wilt get little thanks for thy present labour."
Still the tumult in the street increased, the common bell of the town continued ringing, and James became seriously alarmed.
"Run down, my Lord of Mar--run down," he said, "and take good heed to the court and all the gates. Drive out all the traitor's people or slay them, and then set a good guard at each of the gates and in the gardens. Young Tullibardine is in the town with all his men. Could ye not find him, meikle John Murray?"
"I will try, your majesty," replied Murray of Arknay, who had been wounded in the leg; "but there is Blair of Balthayock, with full fifty men in the hall. He can keep the gates."
"Ay, tell him--tell him," cried James; "the lad Christie will show him all the points of defence. Christie's a good serviceable body, and shall be weel rewarded. Now, gentlemen," he continued, "let us proceed to the examination of the dead traitors' persons. We may find somewhat, perchance, that will tend to the purposes of justice. Uncover that one first, and see what you can find."
The cloak was then removed from the body of Alexander Ruthven, and without stopping to look at his handsome face, now calm in the tranquillity of death, the courtiers searched his pockets. Little was found, indeed, except a purse containing a small sum of money, and a letter, which was handed immediately to the king, for it was in his own handwriting.
"That must be put out o' the way," said James, looking at it. "Is there a fire in the kitchen?"
"Oh, yes, there must be," replied Ramsay; and after tearing the letter into very small pieces, the king gave it to his page, saying, "Put them in the fire, Jock, instanter. But bide a wee--there may be mair."
"There is nothing more, sire," said the Earl of Mar, and then added, "His sword has never been drawn--it is rusted in the sheath."
"That has nothing to do wi' it," cried the monarch, angrily. "Search the other man--see what ye can find on him."
"Here is something worth finding," exclaimed Sir Thomas Erskine, who had unclasped Gowrie's belt, and now held up the scheme of the young earl's nativity, as drawn out by Manucci, displaying the various signs and figures which it contained to the by-standers.
"It's magic!" cried the king, in great delight. "I tell't ye so. He was a dealer with sorcerers and devils, and would have taken our life by his damnable arts. I kenned it weel. I tell't ye, Jock Ramsay."
"And me too, sire," said Herries. "Your majesty's wisdom is never at fault."
"See, the body does not bleed!" cried the king; "this is a magical spell, upon my life. Turn him over, he will soon bleed now this is taken away."
And so, indeed, it proved; for as soon as the body was turned over, so as to bring the wound of which he had died in a different position, the dark blood poured forth in a torrent.
While they were gazing at this sight, and the king was again and again pronouncing that the paper he now held in his hand was a magical spell, the noises in the street suddenly increased very greatly, but the tone seemed to be different.
"De'il's in they folk!" cried the king; "will they pu' the house down? Look out of the window, my Lord of Mar."
"These are some friends that are crying now," said Mar, after looking from the window. "The bailies and their folk have forced their way in amongst the mob, and seem well affected." Then leaning forth from the window, he listened for a moment to something that was shouted up from below. "They desire to see with their own eyes that your majesty is safe," he continued, turning again to James, "and to receive your commands from your own lips."
"Is it safe, man? Is it sure?" demanded the king. "Are they no feigning?"
"No, no," replied Mar. "They have got that little Bailie Roy, I think they call him, at their head."
"Oo, ay, that wee pookit like body Roy," cried James. "I'm no feared o' him;" and, advancing to the window, he cried, at the utmost extent of his voice, "Bailie Roy, Bailie Roy, I am safe and well, praise be to God! And I strictly command you to cause all the people to disperse and retire quietly to their lodgings."
This said, he withdrew his head again; and the good bailie made every effort in his power to obey the royal injunction and disperse the people. But his municipal eloquence, and his proclamation at the market-cross, proved of little effect: an immense crowd continued to occupy the street before the Great House, and cries and imprecations upon those who had slain the innocent, continued to rise up from time to time.
It is not, indeed, improbable that, but for the imposing numbers which Blair of Balthayock kept drawn up in the court-yard, with their swords unsheathed, and which could be seen by the people through the iron gates, the mob would have burst in, and, as Nisbet says in his Heraldry, would have cut the court to pieces.
For more than an hour, James and his principal nobles and favourites continued in deliberation up stairs, the nature of which only transpired in vague rumours. It is supposed by some, that this hour was spent in patching together the somewhat disjointed tale which was afterwards given to the public on royal authority, and in endeavouring to make the story which James had previously told in coming from Falkland, harmonize in some degree with the dark and bloody transactions which had followed.
However that may be, there was still, at seven o'clock, so great a multitude assembled in the street as to render it dangerous for the king to attempt to pass that way. The porter, Christie, and a man named Dogie, were sent for to the king's presence, and acting upon a suggestion they threw out, it was resolved that a boat should be brought down to the garden stairs, by which James and his principal courtiers should be conveyed along the Tay to the South Inch, while the rest of the monarch's retinue should attempt the passage by the streets; and the young master of Tullibardine should be directed, with the strong body of horse he had brought into the town, to guard all approach to the Inch against those who had not a certain pass-word. This was executed skilfully and promptly; and towards eight o'clock, under a gloomy sky and heavy rain, James mounted his horse at the South Inch, and escorted by Tullibardine and the Murrays, rode away towards Falkland.
Thus perished the noble, the brave, and true! Thus triumphed the feeble, the base, and treacherous! Let any man read attentively the page of history, where too many events like this are recorded, and then doubt, if he can, the coming of a future state where such things shall be made equal.