The Black Douglas Page 13

  CHAPTER XII

  MISTRESS MAUD LINDESAY

  The sports of the first day of the great wappenshaw were over. TheLord James Douglas, second son of the Gross One, had won the singletourneying by unhorsing all his opponents without even breaking alance. For the second time Sholto MacKim wore on his cap the goldenbuckle of archery, and took his way happily homeward, much upliftedthat the somewhat fraudulent eyes of Mistress Maud Lindesay had smiledupon him whilst the French lady was fastening it there.

  The knightly part of the great muster had already gone back to theirtents and lodgings. The commonalty were mostly stringing away throughthe vales and hill passes to their homes, no longer in orderedcompanies, but in bands of two or three. Disputes and misunderstandingsarose here and there between men of different provinces. The Gallowaymen called "Annandale thieves" at those border lads who came at thesummons of the hereditary Warden of the Marches. The borderers repliedby loud bleatings, which signified that they held the Galwegians of nobetter understanding than their native sheep.

  It was a strange and varied company which rode home to Thrieve toreceive the hospitality of the young Earl of Douglas and Duke ofTouraine. The castle itself, being no more than a military fortress,containing in addition to the soldiers' quarters only the apartmentsdesigned for the family (and scant enough even of those) could not, ofcourse, accommodate so great a company.

  But as was the custom at all great houses, though more in England andFrance than in poverty-stricken Scotland, the Earl of Douglas had instore an abundant supply of tents, some of them woven of arras andornamented with cloth of gold, others of humbler but equallyserviceable material.

  His mother, the Countess of Douglas, who knew nothing of theoccurrences of the night of the great storm, nor guessed at thesuspicions of witchcraft and diablerie which made a hell of the breastof Malise, the master armourer, received her son's guests withdistinguished courtesy. Malise himself had gone to find the Abbot, sosoon as ever he set eyes on the companion of the Marshal de Retz, thatthey might consult together--only, however, to discover that thegentle churchman had quitted the field immediately after he hadobtained the consent of his nephew to the possession of the newchorister, to whom he had taken so sudden and violent a fancy.

  The hoofs of the whole cavalcade were erelong sounding hollow and dullupon the wooden bridge, which the Earl's father had erected from theleft bank to the southernmost corner of the Isle of Thrieve, a bridgewhich a single charge of powder, or even a few strokes of a wood-man'saxe, had been sufficient to remove and disable, but which neverthelessenabled the castle-dwellers to avoid the extreme inconvenience ofpassing through the ford at all states of the river.

  Sholto MacKim, throwing all the consciousness of a shining successinto the stiffness of the neck which upheld the slight additionalweight of the Earl's gold buckle in his cap, found himself, not whollyby accident, in the neighbourhood of his heart's beloved, MaudLindesay. For, like a valiant seneschal, she had kept her place allday close beside the Fair Maid of Galloway.

  And now the little girl was more than ever eager to keep near to herfriend, for the ambassador of the King of France had bent one lookupon her, so strange and searching that Margaret, though not naturallytimid, had cried aloud involuntarily and clasped her friend's handwith a grasp which she refused to loosen, till Sholto had promised towalk by the side of her pony and allow her to net her tremblingfingers into the thick of his clustering curls.

  For the armourer's son was, in those simple days, an ancient ally andplaymate of the little noble damsel, and he dreamed, and not withoutsome excuse, that in an age when every man's strong arm and braveheart constituted his fortune, the time might come when he might evenhimself to Maud Lindesay, baron's daughter though she were. For bothhis father and himself were already high in favour with their masterthe Earl, who could create knighthoods and dispose lordships as easilyas (and much more effectually and finally than) the King himself.

  The emissaries of the Chancellor and Sir Alexander Livingston did notaccompany the others back to the castle after the short and haughtyanswer which they had received, but with their followers returned theway they had come to their several headquarters, giving, as wasnatural between foes so bitter, a wide berth to each other on theirnorthward journeys to Edinburgh and Stirling.

  "What think you of this day's doings, Mistress Lindesay?" asked Sholtoas he swung along beside the train with little Margaret Douglas's handstill clutching the thick curls at the back of his neck.

  The maid of honour tossed her shapely head, and, with a little prettyupward curl of the lip, exclaimed: "'Twas as stupid a tourney as everI saw. There was not a single handsome knight nor yet one beautifullady on the field this day."

  "What of James of Avondale when knights are being judged?" saidSholto, with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, boyish and characteristic;"he at least looked often enough in your direction to prove that hedid not agree with you about the lack of the beautiful lady."

  At this Maud Lindesay elevated her pretty nostrils yet further intothe air. "James of Avondale, indeed--" she said, "he is not to becompared either for dignity or strength with the Earl himself, nor yetwith many others whom I know of lesser estate."

  "Sholto MacKim," cried the clear piping voice of the little Margaret,"how in the world am I to keep hold of your hair if you shake and jerkyour head about like that? If you do not keep still I will send forthat pretty boy over there in the scarlet vest, or ask my cousin Jamesto ride with me. And he will, too, I know--for he likes bravely to bebeside my dear, sweet Maud Lindesay."

  After this Sholto held his head erect and forth-looking, as if he hadbeen under the inspection of the Earl and were doubtful of his weaponspassing muster.

  There came a subtle and roguish smile into the eyes of Mistress MaudLindesay as she observed the stiffening of Sholto's bearing.

  "Who were those others of humbler estate?" he queried, sending hiswords straight out of his lips like pellets from a pop-gun, being infear lest he should unsettle the hand of the small tyrant upon hishair.

  "Your brother Laurence for one," replied the minx, for no otherpurpose than to see the flush of disappointment tinge his brow withsudden red.

  "I wish my brother Laurence were in--" he began. But the girlinterrupted him.

  "Hush," she said, holding up her finger, "do not swear, especially ata son of the holy church. Ha, ha! A fit clerk and a reverend will theymake of Laurence MacKim! I have heard of your ploys and ongoings, bothof you. Think not I am to be taken in by your meekness and pretence ofdutiful service. You go athwart the country making love to poormaidens, and then, when you have won their hearts, you leave themlamenting."

  And she affected to heave a deep sigh.

  "Ah, Maudie," said the little girl, reproachfully, "now you are beingbad. I know it by your voice. Do not be unkind to my Sholto, for hishair is so pleasant to touch. I wish you could feel it. And, besides,when you are wicked to him, you make him jerk, and if he does it oftenI shall have to send him away."

  The Maid of Galloway was indeed entirely correct. For Maud Lindesay,accustomed all her life to the homage of many men, and having beenbrought up in a great castle in an age when chivalrous respect towomen had not yet given place to the licence of the Revival ofLetters, practised irritation like a fine art. She was brimful of thesuperfluity of naughtiness, yet withal as innocent and playful as akitten.

  But Sholto, both from a feeling that he belonged to an inferior rank,and also being exceedingly conscious of his youth, chose to bebitterly offended.

  "You mistake me greatly, Mistress Lindesay," he said in an unevenschoolboy's voice, to which he tried in vain to add a touch of worldlycoldness; "I do not make love to every girl I meet, nor yet do I lovethem and leave them as you say. You have been most gravelymisinformed."

  "Nay," tripped the maid of honour, with arch quickness of reply, "Isaid not that you were naturally equipped for such amorous quests. Imeant to designate your brother Laurence. 'Tis pity he is to be aclerk. Tho
ugh one day doubtless he will make a very proper andconsolatory father confessor--"

  Sholto walked on in silence, his eyes fixed before him, and in suchhigh dudgeon that he pretended to be unconscious of what the girl hadbeen saying. Then the little Margaret began to prattle in her prettyway, and the youth answered "yes" and "no" sulkily and at random, histhoughts being alternately on the doing of some great deed to make hismistress repent her cruelty, and on a leap into the castle pool, inwhose unsunned deeps he might find oblivion from all the flouts ofhard-hearted beauty.

  Maud kept her eyes upon him, a smile of satisfaction on her lips solong as he was not looking at her. She liked to play her fish assatisfactorily as she could before grassing it at her feet.

  "Besides, it will do him good," she said to herself. "He hath latelywon the gold badge of archery, and, like all men, is apt to thinkovermuch of himself at such times. Moreover, I can always make it upto him after--if I like, that is."

  But as often as Sholto dropped a little behind, keeping pace with MaidMargaret's slower palfrey so that Maud was sure he looked at her, thepretty coquette cast down her eyes in affected humility and sorrow.Whereupon immediately Sholto felt his resentment begin to melt likesnow off a dike top when the sun of April is shining.

  But neither of them uttered another word till they reached thedrawbridge which crossed the nether moat and conducted to the noblegateway of Thrieve. Then, at the foot of the stairway to the hall,Sholto, having swung the little maid from her pony, after a moment ofsullen hesitation went across to assist Mistress Maud Lindesay out ofher saddle.

  As he lifted the girl down his heart thundered tumultuously in hisbreast, for he had never so touched her before. Her lashes restedmodestly on her cheek--long, black, and upcurled a little at the ends.As her foot touched the ground, she raised them a moment, and lookedat him with one swift flash of violet eyes made darker by theseclusion from which she had released them. Then in another moment shehad dropped them again, detaching them from his with a mightyaffectation of confusion.

  "Please, Sholto, I am sorry. I did not mean it." She spoke like achild that is sorry for a fault and is fearful of being chidden.

  And even though knowing full well by bitter experience all hernaughtiness and hypocrisy, Sholto, gulping his heart well down intohis throat, could not do otherwise than forgive a thing so pretty andso full of the innocent artifices which make mown hay of the hearts ofmen.

  With a touch of his lips upon the hand of Margaret the Maid in tokenof fealty, Sholto MacKim turned on his heel and went away towards thefords of Thrieve, muttering to himself, "No, she does not mean it, Ido believe. But I have ever heard that of all women she who nevermeans it is the most dangerous."

  And this is a dict which no wise man can gainsay.