His head fell forward on his breast.
"But harkye, Birrel," said he, suddenly recovering; "to-day the cardinal goes to Falkland, to seek her pardon from the king; and this pardon (if granted) young Leslie of Balquhan is to convey straight to Sir James Riddel, at our castle here. Now mark me, Nichol Birrel, and mark me well, this pardon must be brought to me, and to me alone. 'Tis an insult of this meddling cardinal to send it to Cranstoun-Riddel, the castellan, while I am lord advocate. This very day, after morning mass, his eminence and this holiday lieutenant of the guards, set out for Falkland. Do thou, with Trotter and fifteen, or as many good horsemen as you can muster, follow, and watch well for Leslie's return. Be more wary than you were in Douglasdale, or what avail your promises of service? Between this and Falkland there is many a mile of lonely muirland, where blows may be struck, or bones broken, and where a slain man may sleep undiscovered till the judgment-day—see to it! This Leslie is in your hands, as Vipont was before. A hundred French crowns if thou bringest me the pardon. Stay!—there is the Laird of Chitto, who hath a plea before the lords; tell him, that if he wishes well to his ease, a certain horseman must not pass the Lomond-hill; there are the Lindesays of Kirkforthar and Bandon, who are the sworn foemen of the House of Balquhan. I know thy skill and cunning—ride and rouse them! Ride and raise all the Howe of Fife on the king's messenger; and here is my thumb on't, Nichol Birrel, my three best crofts at Redhall shall be thine of a free gift, heritably and irredeemably, to thee and thine heirs for ever."
In one hour from that time this indefatigable ruffian had Tam Trotter and fifteen other horsemen completely armed, with helmets and cuirasses, gorgets, and gloves of steel, swords, lances, and petronels, awaiting his orders (and the cardinal's departure) in the stable yard of Redhall's lodging in the Canongate.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE CROSS AND GILLSTOUP.
"But the curtain of twilight o'ershadows the shore,
And deepens the tint on the blue Lammermuir;
The tints on Corstorphine have paled in their fire,
But sunset still lingers with gold on its spire;
The Roseberry forests are hooded in grey,
And night, like his heir, treads impatient on day—
And now, gentle stranger, if such be thy mood,
Go welcome the moonlight in sweet Holyrood."
On the night, with which our last chapters have been chiefly occupied, at the identical time when Father St. Bernard was concerting with the cardinal, anent procuring a pardon for Lady Jane, two other kind friends were elsewhere concerting the escape of her lover—but planning it like soldiers, by escalade and at point of the sword.
In the course of the present history we have, more than once, referred to a certain flourishing tavern, named The Cross and Gillstoup, which, in those days, displayed its signboard to the public eye on the south side of the then somewhat suburban street, the Canongate.
Though the host of this establishment was vitally interested in the freedom of the master of king James's ordnance, in so far that he owed him the sum of thirty crowns for wine, it was not deemed advisable to take him into the conspiracy. In a little chamber of this tavern, vaulted, like all the first stories in old Edinburgh, having a sanded floor, a plain wooden table, and fir chairs of capacious dimensions, a little figure of the Madonna in a corner, beneath which was a begging-box, belonging to the Franciscans, inscribed, "Help ye puir, as ye wald God dit you," sat Sir John Forrester, captain of the king's arquebusiers, and Leslie of Balquhan, his lieutenant; though it was past the hour of nine, when, by the laws of James I., no man was to be found in a tavern after that hour rang from the burgh bell, under a penalty of warding in the Tolbooth, or paying "the king's chamberlane fiyftie schillinges."
Being gentlemen, and moreover officers of the guard, these two cavaliers considered themselves above such vulgar rules, and were quietly sitting down to supper. Their bonnets and mantles, their unbuckled swords and daggers, lay on a side bench; each had a knife and platter of delft ware, with a silver-rimmed drinking-horn, before him; and between them stood a savoury powt pie, with a great pewter jug of wine, the said pewter jug being polished to the brightness of a mirror; and Leslie used it as such, to point up his moustaches; for the hostess of The Cross and Gillstoup prided herself particularly on the brightness of her pots and kettles—and then, be it remembered, pewter was a luxury.