The Three Perils Of Man - James Hogg Canongate Classics

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ungovernable. Their passions were chafed, and foamed like the ocean before the commencement of a tempest, foreboding nothing but anarchy and commotion. Parties were formed of the most desperate opposition to one another, and every one grew suspicious of his neighbour. Amid all this tempest of passion a mutiny broke out: – a strong party set themselves to deliver up the fortress to the Scots. But through such a medley of jarring opinions what project could succeed? The plot was soon discovered, the ringleaders secured, and Sir Stephen Vernon, Musgrave’s most tried and intimate friend, found to be at the head of it. No pen can do justice to the astonishment manifested by Musgrave when the treachery of his dear friend was fully proven. His whole frame and mind received a shock as by electricity, and he gazed around him in moody madness, as not knowing whom to trust, and as if he deemed those around him were going to be his assassins.

      ‘Wretch that I am!’ cried he, ‘What is there more to affict and rend this heart? Do I breathe the same air? Do I live among the same men? Do I partake of the same nature and feelings as I was wont? My own friend and brother Vernon, has he indeed lifted up his hand against me, and become one with my enemies? Whom now shall I trust? Must my dearest hopes – my honour, and the honour of my country, be sacrificed to disaffection and treachery? Oh Vernon – my brother Vernon, how art thou fallen!’

      ‘I confess my crime,’ said Vernon; ‘and I submit to my fate, since a crime it must be deemed. But it was out of love and affection to you, that your honour might not stoop to our haughty enemies. To hold out the fortress is impossible, and to persevere in the attempt utter depravity. Suppose you feed on one another, before the termination of the Christmas holidays, the remnant that will be left will not be able to guard the sallying ports, even though the ramparts are left unmanned. In a few days I shall see my brave young friend and companion in arms, your brother, disgracefully put down, and ere long the triumphant Scots enter, treading over the feeble remains of this yet gallant army. I may bide a traitor’s blame, and be branded with a traitor’s name, but it was to save my friends that I strove; for I tell you, and some of you will live to see it, to hold out the castle is impossible.’

      ‘It is false!’ cried Musgrave. ‘It is false! It is false!’ cried every voice present in the judgment-hall, with frantic rage; and all the people, great and small, flew on the culprit to tear him to pieces; for their inveteracy against the Scots still grew with their distress.

      ‘It is false! It is false!’ shouted they. ‘Down with the traitor! sooner shall we eat the flesh from our own bones than deliver up the fortress to the Scots! Down with the false knave! down with the traitor!’ – and, in the midst of a tumult that was quite irresistible, Vernon was borne up on their shoulders, and hurried to execution, smiling with derision at their madness, and repeating their frantic cries in mockery. It was in vain that the commander strove to save his friend – as well might he have attempted to have stemmed the river in its irresistible course single-handed. Vernon and his associates were hanged like dogs, amid shouts of execration, and their bodies flung into a pit. When this was accomplished, the soldiers waved their caps, and cried out, ‘So fare it with all who take part with our hateful enemies!’

      Musgrave shed tears at the fate of his brave companion, and thenceforward was seized with gloomy despondency; for he saw that subordination hung by a thread so brittle that the least concussion would snap it asunder, and involve all in inextricable confusion. His countenance and manner underwent a visible change, and he often started on the approach of any one toward him, and laid his hand on his sword. The day appointed by the Douglas for the execution of Sir Richard, provided the castle was not delivered up before that period, was fast approaching – an event that Musgrave could not look forward to without distraction; and it was too evident to his associates that his brave mind was so torn by conflicting passions, that it stood in great danger of being rooted up for ever.

      It is probable that at this time he would willingly have complied with the dictates of nature, and saved the life of his brother; but to have talked of yielding up the fortress to the Scots at that period would only have been the prelude to his being torn in pieces. It was no more their captain’s affair of love and chivalry that influenced them, but desperate animosity against their besiegers; and every one called aloud for succours. Communication with their friends was impracticable, but they hoped that their condition was known, and that succours would soon appear––. Alas, their friends in Northumberland had enough ado to defend themselves, nor could they do it so effectually but that their lands were sometimes harried to their very doors. The warden, with his hardy mountaineers, was indefatigable; and the English garrison were now so closely beleaguered, that all chance of driving a prey from the country faded from their hopes. Never was the portcullis drawn up, nor the draw-bridge at either end let down, that intelligence was not communicated by blast of bugle to the whole Scottish army, who were instantly on the alert. The latter fared sumptuously, while those within the walls were famishing; and at length the day appointed for the execution of Sir Richard drew so near that three days only were to run.

      It had been customary for the English, whenever the Scots sent out a herald, bearing the flag of truce, to make any proposal whatsoever, to salute him with a flight of arrows; all communication or listening to proposals being strictly forbidden by the captain, on pain of death. However, that day, when the Douglas’ herald appeared on the rising ground, called the Hill of Barns, Musgrave caused answer him by a corresponding flag, hoping it might be some proposal of a ransom for the life of his beloved brother, on which the heralds had an interchange of words at the draw-bridge. The Scottish herald made demand of the castle in his captain’s name, and added, that the Douglas requested it might be done instantly, to save the life of a brave and noble youth, whom he would gladly spare, but could not break his word and his oath that he should suffer. He farther assured the English captain, that it was in vain for him to sacrifice his brother, for that he had the means in his power to bring him under subjection the day following, if he chose.

      A council of the gentlemen in the castle was called. Every one spoke in anger, and treated the demand with derision. Musgrave spoke not a word; but, with a look of unstable attention on every one that spoke, collected their verdicts, and in a few minutes this answer was returned to the requisition of the Scots.

      ‘If Sir Philip Musgrave himself, and every English knight and gentleman in the castle were now in the hands of the Douglas, and doomed to the same fate of their brave young friend, still the Douglas should not gain his point – the castle would not be delivered up. The garrison scorn his proposals, they despise his threats, and they hold his power at defiance. Such tender mercies as he bestows, such shall he experience. He shall only take the castle by treading over the breasts of the last six men that remain alive in it.’

      This was the general answer for the garrison – in the meantime Musgrave requested, as a personal favour of the Douglas, that he might see and condole with his brother one hour before his fatal exit. The request was readily complied with, and every assurance of safe conduct and protection added. The Douglas’ pavilion stood on the rising ground, between the castle and the then splendid city of Roxburgh, a position from which he had a view of both rivers, and all that passed around the castle, and in the town; but, since the commencement of winter he had lodged over night in a tower that stood in the middle of the High-town, called the King’s House, that had prisons underneath, and was strongly guarded; but during the day he continued at the pavilion, in order to keep an eye over the siege.

      To this pavilion, therefore, Musgrave was suffered to pass, with only one knight attendant; and all the way from the drawbridge to the tent they passed between two files of armed soldiers, whose features, forms, and armour exhibited a strange contrast. The one rank was made up of Mar Highlanders; men short of stature, with red locks, high cheek bones, and looks that indicated a ferocity of nature; the other was composed of Lowlanders from the dales of the south and the west; men clothed in grey, with sedate looks, strong athletic frames, and faces of blunt and honest bravery. Musgrave weened himself passing between the ranks of two different nations, instead of the vassals of one Scottish nobleman. At the pavilion, the state, splendour, and number of attendant knights and squires amazed him; but by them all he was received with the most courteous respect.

      Sir Richard was brought up from the vaults of the King’s House to the tent, as the most convenient place for the meeting with his brother, and for the guards

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