“Thou hadst no such scruple in condemning thine innocent brother, Sir Patrick,” said the Lord of Curgarf; “yet shall no guilt be fixed upon thee, till thy brother’s death be established beyond question. Meanwhile thou must be a bounden prisoner, till the truth be clearly brought to light.”
“Men of Clan-Allan! will ye allow him who must be your chieftain to be laid hands on in the house of a stranger?” cried Murdoch Stewart aloud. “You are armed; use your weapons then, and leave not a man alive!”
A thrill of horror ran through every bosom. There were brave men enough of the Clan-Forbes there, to have made head against three times the number of Clan-Allans that now stood, armed to the teeth, and in a firm body, at the lower end of the hall; but there was not a man of the Forbeses, who, if not altogether unarmed, had any weapon at all to defend himself with but his dirk. Those who had such instruments were drawing them, whilst others were rushing to the walls, to arm themselves with whatsoever weapons they could most easily reach, and pluck down thence. The noise and bustle of the moment was great, when, all at once, there fell a hush over the turbulence of the scene.
“Stir not a man of Clan-Allan!” cried Sir Patrick to the Stewarts, who stood in their array, like a heavy and portentous thundercloud. “Stir not, men of Clan-Allan!—Stir not a finger, I command you!”
“Sir Patrick Stewart is our young chieftain!” broke like a roll of Heaven’s artillery from the Clan-Allans. “Sir Patrick Stewart is our young chieftain! Murdoch is a foul traitor and murderer! Bind him, bind him! Let him be the prisoner, and let us have him forthwith justified!”
“Nay, nay,” cried Sir Patrick; “bind him if you will, but lay not your hands upon his life. This day, my Catherine,” said he, turning to the lady, and addressing her tenderly and sorrowfully; “This day, that was to have been to me so full of joy, must now, alas! be the first of that doleful time, which, in the bereavement of my heart, I must devote to mourning for my beloved brother Walter. My first duty is to go and seek for his remains; and in following out this most sad and anxious search, I must crave thy presence, my Lord of Curgarf, and thine, too, Arthur, with that of such of our friends as may be disposed to go forth with us, to aid us in so painful a quest.”
The wishes of Sir Patrick Stewart were readily agreed to. The nuptials were for the present postponed; and instead of the marriage-feast, some hasty refreshment was taken, preparatory to their immediate departure on their melancholy search. The treacherous Murdoch Stewart was now given in charge, as a manacled prisoner, to those very Clan-Allans, at the head of whom he had come, so triumphantly, to fix a false accusation on his brother Sir Patrick. With them too went the youth, and the little man, Grigor Beg, who had given their evidence against Murdoch. The old Lord of Curgarf’s quiet palfrey was led forth; and he set forward, attended by Arthur the Master of Forbes, Sir Patrick Stewart, and a considerable following of those who were led to accompany him by duty, or from curiosity.
They first visited the scene of the attempted assassination of Sir Patrick Stewart. The spot where the six Catteranes were slain, was easily discovered, by the flock of birds of prey that sat perched upon the tops of the dwarf pines, or that wheeled over them in whistling circles; whilst every now and then, some individual, bolder than the rest, would swoop down on the heath, to partake of the banquet which had been spread upon it for them. That some considerable share of courage was required to enable these creatures to do this, was proved to the party, who, on their nearer approach, scared away a brace of hungry, gaunt-looking wolves, who had been employed in ravenously tearing at the bodies, and dragging them hither and thither with bloody jaws; as well as an eagle, who had dared to sit a little way apart, to feed upon one of the carcases, in defiance of his ferocious four-footed fellow-guests. The spectacle was shocking to all who beheld it. But one object of their search was gained; for, on examination, Patrick recognised his brother Walter’s sandals, which were removed from the feet of the corpse of Ewan Cameron, and taken care of—thus so far corroborating the testimony of the youth. Having completed their investigations in this place, they piled heaps of stones over the bodies on the spot where they lay, and the party then pursued their way, over the mountain, towards the alleged scene of Sir Walter Stewart’s murder.
Providence seemed to guide their steps;—for, as they passed over the brow of the wooded hill that dropped down towards the Aven, they scared away two ravens from a hollow place in the heath; and, on approaching the spot, they discovered the well-picked bones of a deer. His head showed him to have been an unusually fine great hart of sixteen. An arrow was sticking so deeply fixed through the shoulder-blade, as to satisfy all present, that its point must have produced death, very soon after the animal had received it.
“As I hope for mercy, there is the very arrow that was lacking of Sir Patrick’s three!” cried Dugald Roy, triumphantly. “See—there is the very eagle’s feather which I put on it, with mine own hand! And, look—there is the cross, which I always cut on the shaft, to give them good luck. No shaft of mine, so armed, ever misses, when righteously discharged. But for foul or treacherous murther, I’ll warrant me, that the most practised eye could never bring it to a true aim. But” added he, as he very adroitly dislocated out the shoulder-bone, as Highlanders are wont, and then possessed himself of the shoulder-blade, arrow and all—“I’ll e’en take this arrow with me, with the bone just as it is, as a dumb but true witness in a righteous cause.”