“Let us not talk more of this matter at this time, my Lord,” replied the Bishop; “I do hereby take upon me, in the meanwhile, conditionally to remove from thee the dread sentence of excommunication, seeing thou hast made all the concession as yet in thy power, and that thou art ready to make what reparation thou canst for what hath passed, and to do such penance as may be required of thee; and so shall I cheerfully accept thy hospitality for this night.”
The Wolfe of Badenoch’s men stared at each other, to behold their fierce master thus become the peaceable companion of the very prelate and monk against whom the full stream of his fury had been so lately directed. They shrugged and looked wise at each other, but no one ventured to utter a word; and the two processions having mingled their truly heterogeneous materials together, they turned towards the land-sconce, and peacefully entering the boats, crossed the Lake to the Castle, where the chief personages were soon afterwards to be seen harmoniously seated at the same festive board. But before they were so assembled, the Franciscan had a conference with the Bishop in his private apartment.
“Thou hast indeed well served the cause of the Church, Friar John,” said the prelate to him; “yea, thou hast done God and our holy religion good service, by having thus so miraculously tamed this wild and ferocious Wolfe. Thou hast tilled a hardened soil, that hath heretofore borne but thistles, thorns, and brambles, that did enter into our flesh and tear our very hearts. But thy hand must not be taken from the plough until thy task be complete. Thou must forward with the Earl of Buchan towards Perth to-morrow. ’Twere well to take him [[574]]while his mind is yet soft with the meliorating dews of penitence. I have spoken to him apart sith I did come hither. Already hath he agreed to make over to me certain large sums in gold, to be placed at the disposal of our chapter, as alswa divers annual rents springing from a wide extent of territory, to be expended in the restoration of our Cathedral. Moreover, he hath declared himself ready to perform the penance I have enjoined him, the ceremonial of which thou wilt find detailed in this parchment, after which he will be absolved by the godly Walter Traill, Bishop of St. Andrews, in the Blackfriars Church of Perth. To thy prudence and care do I commit the proper ordering and execution of all that this parchment and these directions I have written do contain, seeing there be none other who could do it so well.”
“I must obey all thy commands, my sacred Lord,” replied the friar; “yet is my mind ill attuned to the task, seeing it is distracted because of the uncertain fate of the Lady Beatrice. I beseech thee, hath any tidings of her reached thee?”
“Nay, I heard not of her,” replied the Bishop, “save what I gathered from Sir Andrew Stewart, who parted with her in the garden of the Maison Dieu. Yet did I not cease to make inquiry—and, in truth, I do greatly fear that she hath availed herself of her liberty to flee towards the south, to join herself to him with whom she did once so scandalously associate, and for whom thou sayest she hath unblushingly confessed her inextinguishable love. I hear our Scottish champions have returned from the English expedition, and doubtless Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger is by this time at the Court of King Robert, at Scone, if he hath not been detained in the Tower, to answer for his outrage. From what thou hast told me there must have been some secret concert between the knight and Beatrice. She must, therefore, have been well possessed of all his intentions—and if so, she was well prepared to avail herself of any chance of escape, that she might fly to join herself to him again. Hadst thou any talk with her on the subject of Sir Patrick Hepborne?”
“Never, my sacred Lord, sith the night when Friar Rushak enabled me to take her from the Tower,” replied the Franciscan. “Nay, save some short dialogue between us after the ship weighed anchor, when, to quiet her fears and compose her mind, I did tell her the secret in which she was so much interested, and explained to her by what right I so assumed control over her—the stormy voyage, and the fatigues that followed it, left me no leisure to hold further converse with her. But thou art [[575]]right, my gracious Lord Bishop. She hath doubtless fled to her paramour, who seems to carry some love enchantment about him that he hath so bewitched her.”
“The King hath lately removed to Scone,” said the Bishop; “so, I do verily think that, on going to Perth on this errand of the Church, thou shalt have the best chance to recover her who hath fled from thee; at least, thou wilt hear of Sir Patrick Hepborne; and where he is, there will she be also.”
“I do verily believe so the more I turn the subject in my thoughts,” replied the Franciscan; “nay, it can be no otherwise. Trust me, I do gladly give thee thanks for this hint, as well as for all thy friendly actings towards me. I shall go hence with Lord Badenoch to-morrow. My heart shall first of all be given to the service of the blessed Church, the which I do yet hope to see raise her head but so much the higher from these her late calamities. That accomplished, I shall seek for and find Beatrice, though her foul seducer should conceal her in the bowels of the earth.”
The hot feud had so long subsisted between the Wolfe of Badenoch and the Bishop of Moray that each had for many years viewed the other through a false medium. The eyes of the ferocious Earl had been specially diseased, and now that the scales had been removed from them, he was astonished to discover the mild and unpretending demeanour, and the forgiving disposition of the man whom he had believed to be his proud and implacable enemy. This induced him to overwhelm the Bishop with all that the kindness of his native hospitality could devise, and so a mutual re-action took place between them, which the politic Franciscan took every opportunity to improve. The Wolfe even listened with tolerable patience of countenance, and altogether without offensive reply, to the Bishop’s remonstrance on the subject of his misconduct to his wife Euphame Countess of Ross; and, strange as it may seem, he solemnly vowed that the first step he should take after doing penance, would be to receive that injured woman again to his bosom.
Preparations for an early march next morning were made with that expedition with which all his orders were generally executed by his well-disciplined people; and when the time of departure came, the Bishop and he set out cordially together, and afterwards separated, each to pursue his respective way, with a friendly regret that can only be comprehended by those who are well conversant in the whimsical issues of the human heart. [[576]]