The Candlemass Road - George Fraser MacDonald

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at her service, at which she demanded coldly, had he care of her tenants, to which he assenting, she let drive such an angry blast as set his teeth a-chatter, nor minded the boy Wattie then coming in with logs, who dropped them clattering at her feet, and swore, and scrambled there before her, so much was she moved.

      “And will you tell me, bailiff,” quo’ she, “what care you have, when I find myself petitioned on the road by a poor clown with a bloodied head, got of Scotch robbers, that came to you for help, whereon you set about him cruelly, and drove him forth with kicks? Well, sirrah – aye or no?”

      Hodgson, seeing that George Bell had been beforehand with his grievance and kindled her to a fine rage, fell a-tremble, and mumbled that if she would hear him – and there his courage failed and he stood shuffling.

      “What I would hear,” says she, dangerously soft and her finger tapping, “when you have done shuffling and got your tongue, is aye or no. ‘Aye, but’, you say? It is very well. We shall talk anon, Hodgson or Hodkin – nay, never stir, shuffle yet a while.” And to Wat, at her feet: “Your logs will not get up of themselves, fellow! Gather them, boy, to it!”

      Then she threw off her back cloak and muff, and looked about, while her maid unbuttoned her long coat, but gave no heed to us who stood dumb, and seemed in no great delight of what she saw, playing with her gloves the while.

      “This is all your charge, Susan,” says she. “Wine and water, and marchpane, and bid Master Lightfoot in to me. See that this lout mends the fire without putting the house alight, bid the grooms look to Angel and Lycidas, for these roads are fit to kill poor beasts, and Angel limps o’ the right forefoot.” And then of a sudden to Wat, that was dropping timbers broadcast, “Oh, try again, boy, and if you drop ’em on yon Hodgson’s toes it skills not, he shall skip of his own accord presently! ‘Aye, madam, but’, forsooth! Susan, bring mine own cup, and others for these gentlemen, for I doubt if there is a pot uncracked this side of York. Has this place been aired in a twelvemonth? If we are not to suffocate, put some sweet herbs on the fire, we had as well be in a stable!”

      All this in a rush of words, when, seeing my amaze, she said more civilly: “Oh, sir, you wonder that I seem to take your welcome amiss, but I am in a rare fury, to see a poor man hurt, and a fat rogue blinking that gives no remedy, or even excuse, oh, it makes me mad! I thank you kindly, and these gentlemen, we shall know each other anon.” And at once falls railing at Wattie, for his handlessness. “Oh, fellow, kick them before you like a football, so shall you be done sooner! Susan, bid one help him, afore he does a mischief! Now, sirs, we shall have order presently, I dare say. You, sir (this to me), by your habit should be my grandsire’s papist priest. Give you good day, sir, for I will not call you father, but thank you for your courtesy. You may make these gentlemen known to me.”

      So I did, first Master Carleton, who with a fine bow would have come forward at leisure to address her, but she marred it for him by turning aside to Susan, which may have been by design, for it took him in his preamble, so must he start again, while my lady gave sweet apology. And then Yarrow, who smiled on her boldly and preened himself, whereat she began to eat her marchpane and bade Susan give refreshment to all of us there, and to Master Lightfoot, her man of affairs, who was come in, one of your portly sleek flat-caps with a wealth of words on both sides, not aye, not no, but mayhap, of which we had surfeit when she put to him the matter of Bell, for she seemed to set that before all, that had not yet changed her shoon, but sat forward in her great chair, cup in hand, while they strove to make all clear to her.

      Now, you have heard it and need not that I weary you with it again, but I, taking no part, yet lightly marked how each spoke his side in it, save Yarrow, who was silent and left off not gaping at her like a clown at the fair when he sees the tricksters. Hodgson made poor shift to defend himself, and Master Carleton must needs instruct her, but in a lofty sort that I could see had her teeth on edge, and Master Lightfoot confirmed him on blackmail, how, albeit it was an unlawful and hateful thing, yet were poor men wont to pay, at which she cried out on them, was this how the law was kept, and Master Carleton pointed to redress before the Wardens, and that it was no great matter, and “the custom of the country”, and no fault of any, save Bell himself, that looked to move my lady’s pity. But ever she kept to the point, a very Portia, that here were fell thieves harassing a tenant of hers to his hurt and ruin, and how was it possible that a creature of the Dacres should pay criminal rent to such leeches, and no help at law or any way. And through all my poor bailiff knuckled his head and nay-but-madamed her, and the Land Sergeant’s head higher by the moment, and Lightfoot wagging on to try the patience of a saint, and she no saint that sat there, but a lady justly moved, that I was right glad to see, yet sorry to see her at such a rough education as she could hardly believe, that here were Queen’s officers of the peace, but no help from them. For Carleton budged not from saying it was not in his charge, which was for Gilsland only, not Triermain, at which the bailiff shot me a great wink of the eye, as he would say “Said I not so?”

      So we had to and fro of “Nay, will my lady but hear me, she doth me wrong” and “Peace, rogue, you kicked him black and blue, go shuffle again!” and “Under correction, madam, here is great ado for a snivelling arrant fellow that hath brought the mischief on himself” and “a God’s name, sir, are people of mine in thrall to Scotch thieves?” and “I did not invent blackmail, lady, nor the sorry state of the world”, and “in truth, my lady, the Land Sergeant has the right of it, ’tis matter for the Wardens”, and on that conclusion they fell silent, my lady a-weary and small of a sudden, and bade them bring in Bell that she would answer him.

      While we waited, she said, “Susan, this chair likes me not, I had better be on the rack. Nay, let it be, the others look no better. And for dust, my barn at Blackheath is cleaner! Are there no maids in this house?” But Bell coming in, and a sorry snail he was in his rags and bloody bandage, she left off and spake him kindly, asking for his head.

      “Poorly, my good lady,” says he, and cringed. “But poorly. I am not young, I cannot take these knocks, please you, my lady.”

      She compassioned his ill-usage, and said the gentlemen had heard of it, and the Warden would see justice done on the Nixons. But at this he raised a great cry of terror that he looked not for justice, but security. “’Tis not what they’ve done, my lady, but what they’ll do yet! They have sworn to ride on me again, and my folk and our poor beasts, aye, this night! They’ll take and burn all, because I cannot pay Ill Will’s tribute! Oh, my lady, I fear for my life!”

      Now it was news to her that peril threatened him so close, so up starts she at Carleton, demanding was this so, and where were his watches and troopers, or was this the nether side of Russia, that a man’s life and goods could be torn away? The whiles Bell pawed at her shoe, crying, “Ill Will will have us, lady, oh, sweet lady! Liddesdale never promised but performed! He’ll have us! I’m Dacre’s man, and served your grandsire,” and the like. The Land Sergeant said again ’twas not his charge, and if he rode to every hamlet that feared a raid o’ the Scots, he would never be done, and this being so, it behoved men to pay or fend for themselves.

      “For themselves?” cries my lady, white as the wall. “Look at him, sir, can he fend for himself or anything? Or do you mean that I, his landlord, must take the field and fight, because your law cannot or will not?” She swore the Queen should know of it, and Carleton said, curtly enough, that Her Grace knew already. Lightfoot interposed that there was much ill, and much wrong, on the border, but it must be looked to, aye, and redress made, given time and much labour to perfection, and anon and anon, until she cried him down, and stood biting her lip to find herself at a loss what to do, and vented her rage on poor Wattie, who was at the fire, bidding him go clatter elsewhere. Then she turned on Carleton, speaking more composed, but still moved inwardly.

      “Master Carleton, you cannot aid me with your office, it seems. Yet you were my grandfather’s friend, and you have a name as a stout gentleman. Will you, then, not aid me as a friend, that am in sore need? I ask not the Land Sergeant, but your own self, sir.”

      He would need a heart of stone that resisted her (for she was fair, and brave in her distress), and then I saw Tom Carleton as near out of countenance as ever I saw, for he was a proud man, and a valiant, and but

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