“My Lord Yearl,” cried Rory, taking Sir Andrew’s purse of [[391]]gold from his pouch, “an thou believest that I do lie, here is a soothfast witness to what I have uttered.”
“Ha! my son Andrew’s purse, with his cipher on it,” cried the Wolfe, casting a hasty glance at it. “How camest thou by this, Master Spears?”
Rory quickly told the Wolfe of the attempt made by Sir Andrew Stewart to bribe him from his duty, and shortly explained how he had watched his opportunity to creep up stairs unobserved, and to secrete himself in his daughter’s apartment, together with the result.
“Foul shame on the sleeky viper,” cried the Wolfe indignantly, after he had listened to Rory’s abridgement: “But where hath the reptile hidden himself all this while? By my beard, but he shall be punished for this coulpe.” And so saying he seized upon a lamp, and rushing up stairs in a fury, beheld his son stretched on the pavement senseless, with a stream of blood pouring from his temple and cheek, which bore the deep impression of the hooked head of Rory Spears’ gaud-clip.
“Hey, ha!” exclaimed the Wolfe, with a changed aspect, produced by the spectacle which his son presented: “by’r Lady, but Andrew hath got it. Fool that he was, he hath already been paid, I wot, for his wicked device. Ha! the saints grant that he may not be past all leechcraft. Would that thou hadst hit less hard, old man. Though he be but the craven cock-chick of my brood, yet would I not choose to have his green grave to walk over.”
“So please thee, my Lord, it was dark, and I had no choice where to strike,” said Rory, with much simplicity of manner. “But fear not,” added he, after carelessly stooping down to examine the wound, “trust me, ’tis no deadly blow; moreover, ’tis rare that ill weeds do perish by the gateside. I’se warrant me he’ll come to; his breath is going like a blacksmith’s bellows. But is’t not a marvel, after all, to behold how clean I did put my seal upon his chafts, and it sae dark at the time? I’se warrant he’ll bear the mark o’t till’s dying day. Here, MacCormy, help me down the stair wi’ him. Thou and I will carry his worship’s body wi’ mair ease than thou and thy loons wad hae carried mine, I rauckon. But hear ye, lad; give not the lie again to any true man like me, or that brain-pan of thine may lack clampering.”
The Wolfe of Badenoch was relieved by discovering, on examination, that there was good hope of his son’s recovery; and he employed himself and his people in using every means to bring it about. The whole night was spent in this way, but it [[392]]was only towards morning that Sir Andrew Stewart began to show less equivocal signs of returning life, and even then he still remained in a state of unconsciousness as to what was passing near him. The circumstance of the sleepy potion they had drank accounted for the lady and her damsel having remained undisturbed amid all the confusion that had prevailed. But the Wolfe of Badenoch, having occupied the morning in superintending the preparation of a litter to transport his wounded son to his Castle in Badenoch, when all was ready, became impatient to depart, and desirous to see the lady ere he did so. Rory Spears was accordingly despatched to awake her, and in a short time she and Katherine appeared, with eyes still loaded with the soporiferous drug they had swallowed.
“Ha, what!” cried the Wolfe with astonishment, the moment the lady appeared; “by the beard of my grandfather, but I am petrified. Who could have dreamt that it was thou, my beauteous damosel? By’r Lady, but it is strange, that whether thou dost appear in the hauqueton or in the kirtle thou shouldst still be harnessed by importunate love-suit. But,” continued he, courteously taking her hand and kissing it, “it erketh me sore to think that wrong so foul should have been attempted against thee by a son of mine. Thou hadst a claim for something better at our hands, both for thine own sake and for that of Sir Patrick Hepborne, a knight of whom the remembrance shall ever be grateful to me. Trust me, it giveth me pleasure to behold lealty where tyrant Church hath tied no bands. Thou hast been basely deceived by him who undertook for thine honourable escort to Norham, and albeit I have reasons to think that the proud Priest of Moray hath secretly obtained a power of Royal troops to repossess him in his Badenoch lands, yet shall not this knowledge hinder me from fulfilling for thee that service which my traitor son hath so shamefully abused. I shall be myself thy convoy. Let the croaking carrion-crow of Elgin come if he dares; I have hardy heads, I trow, to meet him, who will fight whether I am there or not. Ha! by my grandfather’s beard, an he had not flown from Aberdeen with the wings of the raven, he mought have been e’en now past giving me trouble.”
“My noble Earl of Buchan, I do give thee thanks for thy kind courtesy,” replied the lady; “but I may in no wise suffer it to lead thee to make sacrifice so great. Trust me, I fear not for the journey whilst I have this good man Rory Spears as mine escort. Under the guardance of one so prudent, brave, and faithful as he has proved himself to be, I should nothing dread to wander over the world.” [[393]]
“And I wad defend thee, my leddy, frae skaith, were it but frae the tining o’ a single hair o’ thy bonny head, yea, to the last drap o’ bluid in my auld veins,” cried Rory with great enthusiasm, being delighted to observe that his worth was at last fairly appreciated.