"The great father of confusion who usually presides at the head of our Scottish affairs. True, Walter, the rock, the cod, and the bobbins become them better; but I shall be sorry to exact marching-money and free quarters from old Lady Grizel. Clermistonlee is the source of this accusation, which alleges that her ladyship knows of an intended invasion from Holland, and that she hath reset two emissaries of the House of Orange. But a word in thine ear, Fenton; there are villains at our Council-board who more richly merit the cord of the Provost Marshal; and Randal Clermont, of Clermistonlee, is not the least undeserving of such exaltation."
"If the soldiers overhear, you are a lost man."
"God save King James and sain King Charles, say I! but to old Mahoud with the Council, which is driving the realm to ruin at full gallop. Hah! here comes, at last, this loitering villain, the macer," added Finland, as the moonlight revealed a man running after them. "Fellow! why the deuce did you not meet us at the White Horse Cellar?"
"Troth, Sir, just to tell ye the truth," replied the panting functionary, drawing his gilt baton from the pocket of his voluminous skirt, "it is a kittle job this, and likely to get a puir man like me unco ill will in such uncanny times—but I stayed a wee while owre late may be, biding the ale cogue, at Lucky Dreep's change-house in the Kirk-o'-field Wynd. However, Sir, follow me, and we'll catch these traitors where the reiver fand the tangs—at Madam's fire-side."
"Follow thee!" reiterated the cavalier officer, contemptuously; "malediction on the hour when a Douglas of Finland and a band of the old Scottish Musqueteers are bent on the same errand with a knave like thee! Step out, my lads, and, Walter Fenton, do thou fall rearward again, and see that we are neither followed nor watched; for, egad! these are times to sharpen one's wits."
Thus ordered, our hero (for such is the handsome pikeman) fell gradually to the rear, and stopped at times to bend his ear to the ground and his eyes on the changing shadows of the moonlit scenery; but he heard nothing save the blustering wind of March, which swept through the hollow dells, and saw only the shadows of the flying clouds cast by the bright moon on the fields through which the soldiers marched.
They had now passed all the houses of the city, and were moving westward, by the banks of the Burghloch, a broad and beautiful sheet of water, upwards of a mile in length, shaded on one side by the broken woods of Warrender and the old orchards of the convent of Sienna; on the other, open fields extended from its margin to the embattled walls of the city. One moment it shone like a sheet of polished silver; the next it lay like a lake of ink, as the passing clouds revealed or obscured the full-orbed moon.
"What lights are those twinkling in the woods yonder?" asked Finland, pointing northward with his pike, on his party reaching the rhinns, or flat at the end of the lake.
"The house of Coates, Sir—the old patrimony of the Byres o' that Ilk."
"Harkee, macer, and the dark pile rising on the height, further to the westward."