The Wolfe of Badenoch: A Historical Romance of the Fourteenth Century

by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder

He could now observe that the dress of the unfortunate man was that of a forester. The arms were rudely tied behind the back, and the body was suspended from a huge iron ring, that hung loose in an enormous bolt of the same metal, strongly built in vertically between the keystones of the vault, the height of which was very considerable. It seemed as if the wretched man had been dragged from his couch of straw to instant punishment, or rather perhaps murder; for portions of the straw yet littered the floor as if dragged along with him in his ineffectual struggles, and some fragments of it still adhered between his ankles, to the rough woollen hose he wore, as if retained there by the last dying convulsion that had pressed and twisted the limbs unnaturally together. Then the fatal rope was not like one intended for such a use. It was thicker than seemed necessary, and looked as if it had been hastily taken, as the readiest instrument for the murderous deed. After passing through the ring, where it was fastened by two or three turns, it stretched down diagonally to one corner of the place, where it lost itself in an immense coil. It had manifestly been hastily brought there, to effect the destruction of the unfortunate wretch, and afterwards left on the floor uncut, that it might not be rendered unfit for the purpose to which it had been originally dedicated.

It may seem strange that Assueton should have derived anything like pleasure from a spectacle so truly appalling; but it is nevertheless true, that a faint gleam of hope broke upon the miserable despair that had possessed him. He saw that the coil of rope was of sufficient extent to give him good reason to believe that, when untwisted, it might reach to the base of the [[148]]tower, at the top of which he was now confined, if he could only detach it from what went upwards, and conceal it until night. But how was he to sever it? He remembered that he had concealed his dagger in his bosom at the time he put on his disguise. Those who seized and bound him had immediately deprived him of his sword, but they had not suspected his being possessed of any other weapon, and his dagger, therefore, had escaped their notice. He drew it joyfully forth; but just as he was about to divide the rope, he paused, and observing that there were at least fourteen or sixteen feet stretching diagonally between the coil and the ring, he hesitated to cut it. To throw away so considerable a portion of it, when perhaps that very piece might be essential to the preservation of his life, would have been the height of imprudence; yet, to get at that portion, there was but one way, and this was so disgusting, and so repugnant to his feelings, that the very idea of it made him shudder.

But liberty, and perhaps life depended on it; and what will not the desire of liberty and life compel human nature to attempt? To him both were now more precious than ever, since they might yet be the means of saving her without whom he could value neither. He hesitated not a moment longer, but screwing up his resolution to the revolting alternative, he laid hold of the legs of the dead man, swung himself up from the ground, and, catching at his clothes, at last got the rope within his gripe, and thus continued to climb, hand over hand, until he reached the fatal ring. Holding by one sinewy arm, he drew forth his dagger, and was again on the eve of cutting the rope close to the ring when prudence once more stopped him. He had been from the first aware that it was absolutely necessary to leave the dead body hanging, lest, when his jailors should visit him, they might have their suspicions awakened by its removal. What made him hesitate then, whilst hanging by one arm to the ring and bolt to the arch in the vault, was the idea, that by loosening the turns that were made in it, he might be enabled to hoist up the body a few feet higher, then to fasten the turns of the rope again, and thus gain so many more feet of rope. All this, with immense fatigue of arm, he effected, and then dividing the rope with his dagger, and descending to the floor, he lifted up the large coil, and removing the straw of the bed, he hid it underneath, covering it up with the greatest care. He was fully aware of the possibility of its being missed from its place, sought for, and removed from the concealment he had put it into; but it was also possible that the wretches who had done the deed might not be among those who should come [[149]]to visit him, in which case its absence could never attract their observation.

He now sat down to consider and arrange his plans. He at once saw that it would be useless to attempt his descent while daylight remained, or, indeed, while the people in the Castle might be supposed to be still stirring, as, if he did try it then, he must do so with hardly a chance of escaping detection. To lessen the risk of being observed and seized, therefore, it was absolutely essential that he should postpone his enterprise until night. But then the risk of his rope being discovered before night crossed his mind: his judgment wavered, and he was filled with the most cruel and perplexing doubts. He remembered that the state of the moon, which left the earlier part of the night excessively dark, made that by far the most favourable time to risk his fate; and he at length determined that, a descent in day-light being perfectly hopeless, he must be content to take his chance of the other alternative. But what was he to do if the rope should be missed, sought for, and detected? After some consideration, he resolved that in that event he would draw his dagger, spring unawares on those who might visit him, and so make a desperate endeavour to effect his escape, by striking down all that might oppose him.

But another and a different thought now occurred to him. What if the very first visit that might be paid him should be for the purpose of taking down the murdered body from the ring, only to hang him up in its place? Brave as he was he shuddered at the contemplation of such a fate. He had already often faced death in bloody field, led on by glory and the laudable thirst of fame; but to be hung up like a dog by the hands of murderous ruffians in this lone chamber, far from every human ear or eye but those of his clownish and unfeeling executioners, who would take so small account of him, after witnessing his passing agonies, as perhaps to leave him, as they had done the wretch who had gone before him, till his place was wanted for a successor, and then throw his half consumed body into some unholy spot, over which his perturbed ghost might hover, seeking in vain for repose, this was to strip death of the fascinating drapery which men have contrived to throw over him, and to unveil all his terrors, But he steeled himself for the worst, and, resolving to wait firmly, and to act as circumstances might suggest, he determined that, happen what might, he would sell his life dearly, should he be reduced to the unhappy alternative of doing so.

With his mind thus wound up, he sat him down on the couch of straw, that he might appear unconcerned to any one [[150]]who might enter; and there he remained, waiting patiently for the issue. He had been seated in this way about a couple of hours, when he heard the heavy tread of feet approaching along the passages. The key was inserted in the lock of the door, and considerable force exerted before it could be turned.

“Be quick with you, old churl,” cried an impatient voice; “thou wilt be all day working at it.”

The door half opened, and two or three heads were thrust in at once. Seeing their prisoner calmly seated on the straw at the farther wall, four men entered. One of these, a thick, squat, large-headed old man, with a rough, cloddish, unfeeling countenance, and long, thick, grizzled hair hanging about it, was clad in a close woollen jerkin and hauselines, appeared to be the jailor, for several enormous keys hung from divers straps attached to his leathern belt. He stationed himself with his back at the door. The other three men were younger, but the expression of their features betrayed such depraved and lawless spirits, as might make them ready instruments to perpetrate any cruelty or crime at the mere nod of a master. Their dress was similar to that in which the murdered body was clothed. Two of them, armed with short swords in their hands, placed themselves at the door, in front of the old jailor, while the third, with a pewter-covered dish under his left arm, an earthen jug of ale in his left hand, and his naked sword in his right, advanced a little way, and deposited the provisions on the pavement. Turning his eyes round, he beheld the dead body hanging.

“Heyday, Daniel Throckle,” said he, with a careless laugh, to the jailor, “how camest thou to leave our comrade Tim Ord here, to keep watch over this young man all night? By the mass, methinks he was but a triste companion for him.”

“’Twas none o’ my doing, Master Ralpho Proudfoot; ’twas Wat Withe that did the deed himsell. He got the key from me, and thou knowest he doth not ever care overmuch, so he gets his job done, whether the workshop be cleaned out or no. He thinks that be none o’ his business.”