Malcolm, a faithful and affectionate follower and foster-brother of Sir David Bruce, foreseeing that the fete would end in a renewal of the old feud, took his own measures accordingly for his master's safety, and lost no time in pre-arranging his plans, and these he put in train, while all was noise and uproar at the banquet. He saw not unobserved how rapidly stoup of claret succeeded stoup, without any interregnum, and glasses of Fairntosh were dashed down in never-ending repetition. The war songs seemed too surely to strike the key of discord; passion begun to explode; word brought on word, and blow brought on blow. Then rung claymore upon iron breastplate, and upon leathern target. The scream of maddened wrath mingled with the groan of death.

The combatants next deeply closed their ranks. Broad-swords were trundled down upon the floor; and dirk and whinger madly shook, and thrust home the murderous stab from vengeful hands, prompt to execute bloody retaliation at this fatal banquet.

Whether from premeditated, dark, and long-purposed design, or whether in the impulse of sudden and infuriated passion, or merely arising from the confusion and collision of crossing weapons and tumultuous struggles, it is impossible to decide;—but the fatal result of the bloody affray was; that Sir Robert Bruce stabbed Lord Maxwell, who, it will be recollected, had saved the life of his brother David.

Upon this attempt, and before it could be executed, David endeavoured to save his friend, but in vain; his brother Robert exclaiming with a furious air and voice, "What! dare my dependants beard me in my own hall!"

Lord Maxwell now fell lifeless on the ground. David, as he beheld the preserver of his life perish by the hand of his brother, in a paroxysm of rage and infuriated madness, drew forth his dirk, and rushed forward. The other combatants, horror-struck at the direful conflict that arose between the twin brothers, suspended their own to interpose. But this interposition served only to aggravate the violence it was intended to suppress. The brothers now struggled less because they were incensed than because they were withheld; and when they furiously burst from the arms that held them, rushed against each other with a blind and staggering shock. The impulse was unintentional, but the result was fatal. The weapon of David, held in an unconscious hand, pierced him to whom he was opposed. He saw not whom it was—he drew his weapon back—it was reeking with a brother's blood![14]

Here Malcolm caught the eye and seized the arm of Bruce. No time was to be lost. The general confusion aided the attempt.—Seizing with a Goliath grasp upon Bruce's arm, he dragged him on, while David's retainers rushed between their chieftain and immediate death, the punishment of his involuntary fratricide. Malcolm next suddenly raised up the arras, which with as much haste and promptitude he let fall behind him and Bruce. Next pushing open a small narrow door, which was secreted behind the tapestry, they swiftly passed through it, which was on the instant closed by Malcolm, who quickly flung home its massive bolts and bars at the inner side, which necessarily fully prevented all attack or pursuit. They were now safe from their enemies so far, at least. The bugle-horn they heard rung lustily from the warder's tower; distinctly, too, they heard the rattling chain of the draw-bridge, as it was hastily raised to prevent the flight of David. The cavalry were now ordered to horse, and to pursue;—the hackbutteers mounted the battlements, and peeped from the embrasures; while bugle, bagpipe, drum, and trumpet, sounded pursuit. The commingled and discordant sounds were heard floating over tower, parapet, and battlement, and were deeply re-echoed by rock, islet, and promontory, and hoarsely answered by the storm-beat wave tiding to the shore.

Meanwhile the faithful Malcolm led on Bruce through several intricate winding passages, until they reached a sallyport which opened on the margin of the sea, where they were for the present removed from the scene of danger. The mode by which they had escaped was quite unknown to their enemies; and now they paused to inhale the breeze of heaven, and cool their wearied brows from the fatigue and horrors which they had encountered.

Here Bruce said:—"Thanks, my dear and faithful follower, my honest Malcolm, for thy brave and powerful arm, and wondrous foresight. We are now safe from mortal men and mortal measures, at least for the moment."

Then he mournfully mused to himself:—"But what arm has the nerve that might, that may shield me from myself? What potent anodyne can tranquilize a guilty conscience? What untold charm can lull a mind ill at ease, and abhorring and abjuring itself?—Yes, yes! there is, there is an omnipotent and a redeeming power!—there is an atoning spirit, that can pardon, pity, and absolve the guilty, when the heart shall truly repent: and although my crime be dyed and encrimsoned deep in guilt, I yet may obtain mercy!—a truly penitent and contrite soul may yet blanch this deed pure and spotless as the untrodden snow which crests the lofty mountain-peak. This is consolatory. But hour, and day, and year still succeeding year, must pass over in sad and sorrowful contrition, before this foul and atrocious guilt, the result of one depraved moment of furious passion, can be washed away and effaced from the calendar of dark human crime, and deep ingratitude to high heaven!"

Here a dreadful storm of hail coming on, the weary fugitives gladly entered a spacious cavern which propitiously and opportunely opened wide "its ponderous jaws" to receive them; and which timely afforded them a respite from the storm, and a refuge from pursuit.