“Some deep conspiracy against me,” murmured Knockando, his countenance changing alternately from the deadly white of guilty fear to the black expression of fiend-like ferocity. “A deep compact between the murderer and his paramour! Where can the veriest shadow of proof be found against my perfect innocence of this foul deed?”
“Let the sacred dignity of our tribunal be respected!” said the Bishop sternly; “and let all such unseemly interruptions cease. Proceed maiden! proceed to offer to us the testimony on which thou art bold enough to make so strange and so determined an accusation.”
“My lord,” said Helen, still standing, and betraying deep agitation, as in her modest and respectful address to the Bishop she recalled the appalling circumstances; “I was the first person who entered mine uncle’s apartment on the morning which followed the fatal night of his murder. When I did approach me to the bed I fancied that he slept; for, as was not uncommon with him, he lay with the blessed crucifix over his bosom. I lifted the holy emblem in my left hand, whilst with my right I did remove the bed-clothes from his chin—when—when—when beholding, as I did, the bloody work which had been done upon him, I fell backwards on the floor in a swoon, and so firmly did I grasp the crucifix to my bosom in mine unconscious agony, that those who came to mine aid, called thither by my scream, found it so placed, and it was carried with me to mine own apartment, and I so found it when my senses were restored to me. That the crucifix had ever lain that night upon mine uncle’s breast at all, therefore, could have been known only to myself alone; and to him who, during that fatal night, removed it from his bosom for the purpose of doing the murder on him, and who replaced it there after he had wrought the cruel deed.”
“But how can this touch the Laird of Knockando?” demanded the Bishop earnestly.
“My lord,” said Helen, “some days after the murder, the Laird of Knockando did force himself into my presence, under the false pretence of bearing a message from the reverend lord prior. His object seemed to be to whet my vengeance against the person who then lay accused of the murder of mine uncle. It was then that, in the presence of my friend and my servant, who are both now within the call of this tribunal, prepared to support this my testimony, then it was, I say, that he used expressions, the which were, for greater security, taken down after he was gone,—‘The wretch,’ said he, ‘The wretch who, lighting down like some nocturnal fiend upon the sacred person of thine uncle, and, reckless of the holy emblem of Christ which lay upon his bosom, could put it aside, that he might plunge his dirk into the innocent throat of his sacred servant, must not only die the death of a felon, but he can never hope for mercy from Him whose blessed emblem he hath outraged.’ None but the murderer could have so circumstantially described this most barbarous deed. John Dhu Grant of Knockando did so describe it. Therefore is John Dhu Grant of Knockando the murderer! On his head the blood of my murdered uncle doth loudly call for that justice which it doth behoove man to do upon it. And may He that died for us all, grant that mercy hereafter to his guilty soul which his own relentless sentence would have denied to another.”
As Helen Dunbar finished speaking, she fell back into her chair, exhausted by her exertion to fulfil that duty which she had wound up her mind to discharge. The murderer gasped for breath as if he was undergoing suffocation; and his eyes started from their sockets with the terrors which now overwhelmed him. The murmurs which burst from those who were present being checked by the seneschal of the court, the Bishop ordered Helen’s servants, James and Janet, and also her friend, to be all three severally called. Each of them were examined. The members of the chapter conferred together for a few minutes apart; and after they had resumed their seats on the tribunal, a death-like silence prevailed, and the Bishop putting on his mitre, and leaning on his crosier, began thus to speak:—
“After the full and patient probing which we have given to this most mysterious case, it must be clear to all men who do now hear us, that this holy tribunal hath before it, as its bounden duty, to dismiss Lewis Grant of Auchernach, discharging him as free from all taint or suspicion of any participation whatsoever in the foul and barbarous murder of our pious brother, Priest Innes. And as it is beyond our power to shut our eyes to the miraculous proof which the Almighty in his wisdom hath caused the very murderer himself to bear towards his own proper condemnation, we have no choice left but to direct our bailie, the which we now hereby do, forthwith to return John Dhu Grant of Knockando to the dungeon whence he was taken, thence to remove him by to-morrow’s earliest sun, and to convey him, under a strong guard of our men-at-arms, to Elgin, there to be delivered into the hands of the king’s sheriff, that he may take measures to see that the prisoner be submitted to the knowledge of an assize, to be by it clenged or fouled of the crime laid to his charge, as the evidence laid before it may determine. This we do without all prejudice to our own claims to the full right of pit and gallows which belongeth to us; but because this crime of murder, when not fresh and redhanded, being to be considered as more especially one of the pleas of the Crown, we do think it more seemly to leave it to the judges of the King’s Grace to execute justice upon the murderer.”
The Laird of Knockando’s countenance was all this time working like that of a fiend, especially whilst the Bishop was delivering this appalling judgment against him. He had no sooner heard it to an end, than, putting his hand into his bosom, he plucked forth a concealed dirk—that very weapon with which he had murdered the good Priest Innes. He raised it aloft. Helen saw it glancing in the air, and uttered a piercing shriek that rang in the groined roof of the chapter-house. It saved her lover; for, as Knockando brought it down, aimed with a desperate plunge at the heart of his rival, his intended victim threw his body back, and so he most wonderfully escaped from its fatal blade. But it fell not innocuous—it cleft the very skull of a wretched lay-brother, who sat with his tablets below noting down the minutes of the procedure, and the man dropped lifeless upon the pavement. The perpetrator of this second murder was seized and pinioned, and, being instantly tried red-handed as he was—his guilt was established—he was carried out for shrift—confessed that his first crime was done for the wicked purpose of revenging himself against Auchernach by fixing upon him the guilt of the murder. After which the convent-bell tolled dismally. A long procession of monks chanting a hymn, followed by the criminal and the bourreau, guarded by the seneschal and his men-at-arms was seen winding from the gate of the Priory, and after a few short moments of prayer, he was forthwith executed, without further mercy, on the gallow-hill.
I need not tell you that the Laird of Auchernach performed the part of protector to Helen Dunbar during her homeward journey, and that so soon as the days of mourning for her murdered uncle were fulfilled, he received from her the right to act as her protector throughout the longer journey of life. And if he had ever been supposed to be apt, when provoked on certain occasions, to yield too hastily to that indignation which chanced to be excited within him, the recollection of the terrible events which I have narrated to you had the effect of arming him ever afterwards with a degree of control over himself which few men since his time have been known to possess.
THE END.