What you look upon, hangs there to represent the death of him who died that man might live."

"And is it so? Then be our lives sacred unto the service of him who laid his life down for our race, and sent his angel to deliver us, in his own likeness too; for this is he who came to us in great extremity, when we called on the name of our Redeemer in agony of soul."

"Remain with me till our great festival. This miracle must be made known to all that trust in Jesus' name. Meanwhile I will cherish and comfort the beloved of heaven."

The day arrived of the great festival, the anniversary of the overthrow of mighty Odin,--that sublime event that broke the bands of iron and of steel, and threw the gates of superst.i.tion open to Albyn's Christian triumph. On that day the king's whole household, n.o.bles of the realm, high dames and commons, abbots, monks, and mendicants, a motely and a countless mult.i.tude, a.s.sembled early at the monastery of ancient Otholine, to render thanks for their deliverance. Ma.s.ses were said; and holy hymns of praise ascended to the skies. With one accord, then all the grateful mult.i.tude agreed to canonize the three heroic virgins, who, with the aid of angels, had wrought out the Christian's triumph, the beloved of heaven, translated to the blest beat.i.tude, where souls of saints and blessed martyrs dwell, and whose joint prayers might with the holy Virgin much avail.

A joyful clamour for the ordinance then spread around, so eager were the crowd to kneel and pay their humble adorations to the three maids, translated to the heavens with bodies like their own. Applauses rang; and from behind the altar was given forth a song divine, in which a thousand voices joined, till all were hushed at this ecstatic strain.

Hail to the happy three!

Vessels of sanct.i.ty!

Now honoured to stand At the Virgin's right hand.

(Mater Dei!

Remember me!) Remember us all, and send us for good, Bone of our bone, and blood of our blood.-- Song of harp, and voice be dumb!-- The heaven is oped. They come, they come!

A bustle rose. The abbot on his knees sunk down and leaned upon the altar-cloth, and only a few voices whispered round, "They come, they come!" The congregation turned their eyes into the chancel, and beheld three virgins, all in robes of purest white, stand over against the altar. The loud choir was hushed, and every brow was forward bent in low obeisance: All believing these three beauteous flowers from paradise had come arrayed in robes of heaven, with angel forms that bloomed like winter roses newly oped, in high approval of the festival, and sacred honours to be paid to them.

The virgins beckoned, raised their flowing veils, and their right hands to heaven. "Stay, they cried, stay the solemnity, ere you profane the name and altar of the G.o.d of heaven. Here stand the three unworthy maids of Stormont whom you would deify. Come nigh to us our father and our king, and ye chaste ministers of him we serve: Come nigh, and feel that we are mortal like yourselves, and stop the rite.

Pay adoration to that Holy One who pitied us in misery extreme, and you in grievous bonds. There be your vows and worship paid, in which we three shall join. He hath indeed done wondrous things for us, works of amazement, which you all shall hear, and whoso heareth shall rejoice in heart."

Then came they all unto their father's knee, kneeled and embraced him, while the good old earl shed tears of joy, and rendered thanks to heaven; their sovereign next, their former lovers, friends, and all they knew in that mixed mult.i.tude, they did embrace, that no remaining doubt might spring and spread of their ident.i.ty. It was a joyful meeting, such a one as hath not been in any land for happiness and holy ecstacy. They lived beyond the years of women,--but their lives were spent in acts of holiness, apart from grandeur's train. In curing of the sick, clothing the naked, ministering to all in want and wretchedness, and speaking peace unto poor wandering and benighted souls. Their evening of life was like the close of summer day, pure, placid, and serene,--the twilight long, but when at last it closed, it was with such a heavenly glow, it gave pure prospect of a joyous day to come. Thus ends my legend; and, with all submission, I bow to your awards, and wait my doom.

CHAP. III.

_Garolde._ p.r.i.c.k on good Markham. That galled jade of yours Moves with a hedgehog's pace. Is this a time To amble like a belle at tournament, When life and death hang on our enterprize?

_Mark._ We've had long stages, Garolde; We must take up. What miscreants have we here?

_The Prioress._

"Lo, have not I taken great delight in the words of thy mouth?" said the friar, "for it is a legend of purity and holiness which thou hast told, and the words of truth are contained in it. Peradventure it may be an ancient allegory of our nation, in which manner of instruction the fathers of Christianity amongst us took great delight. But, whether it be truth, or whether it be fiction, the tendency is good; and behold, is it not so; do not I even thank thee for thy tale?"

"It is the most diffuse, extravagant, and silly legend that ever was invented by votary of a silly and inconsistent creed," said the Master.

"I side wi' you, Master Michael Scott," said Tam Craik; "I think the tale is nought but a string of bombastical nonsense."

"Excepting ane about fat flesh, I think I never heard the match o't,"

said the laird of the Peatstacknowe; "It brings me a-mind o' our host's dinner, that was a' show but nae substance."

"If I foresee aught aright," said the Master, "of many a worse dinner shall I see thee partake, and enjoy the sight."

"Was not that a beautiful and sublime tale, father?" said Delany: "I could sit and listen to such divine legends for ever." The poet's eyes shone with tears when he heard the maid he loved say these words to the friar apart, who answered and said unto her, "Lo, there are many more sublime and more wonderful in thy little book; nevertheless the tale is good for instruction to those that are faithless and doubting."

"Alak! I fear I shall not live to learn and enjoy these. Do not you think, father, that we shall all perish in this miserable place,"

added Delany,--"this horrible place of witchcraft and divination?"

Charlie Scott stepped forward when he overheard some of these words.

"Eh? what was the la.s.sie saying?" said he. "Eh? I'll tell ye what it is, hinney: I believe ye see things as they are. There's naething but witchcraft gaun on here; and it is that, and that alone, that a' our perils and mischances rise frae. Begging your pardon, father, I canna help thinking what I think, and seeing what I see. But, gude faith! we maun blaw lown till we win aff the tap o' this bigging, if that ever be."

"My hand hath prevailed against his hand," said the friar, "and my master over his master; and had it not been for this miserable accident we should have had nothing to fear from his divinations, sublime and mighty as they are. What hath become of the mighty men of valour from the camp of our captain?"

"O there's nae mortal can tell," said Charlie: "It was not for naething that Dan and his lads ran off and left us without ever looking ower their shoulders. A' witchcraft! a' witchcraft! Ane may stand against muckle, but nae man can stand against that. I wish we were where sword and shield could aince mair stand us in stead. But this I'm sure o'--Now that our situation is kend to our kinsman, it winna be lang before some aid appear. O if it wad but come afore we are driven to that last and warst of a' shifts to keep in life."

"We canna live another day," said Tam: "I therefore propose that the maid and the boy try ilk ane their hand at a tale too, and stand their chances with the rest of us. Their lives are of less value, and their bodies very tender and delicate."

Every one protested against Tam's motion with abhorrence; and it was agreed that they would now appeal to the Master who had told the worst tale. Not that the unfortunate victim was to be immediately sacrificed, nor even till the very last extremity; but with that impatience natural to man, they longed to be put out of pain; every one having hopes that his own merits protected himself from danger.

Every one also believed that judgment would be given against Tam, except he himself; and that, at all events, such an award would put an end to his disagreeable and endless exultations of voracious delight.

They then went before the renowned wizard, and desired him to give judgment who of them had related the worst and most inefficient tale, laying all prejudice with regard to creeds and testimonies aside.

He asked them if they referred the matter entirely to him, or if they wished to have each one a vote of their own? Tam said it was an understanding at first that each should have a vote, and, as he had made up his mind on the subject, he wished to give his. Charlie said it was a hard matter to vote away the life of a friend; and, for his part, he would rather appeal to the great Master altogether. But if any doubts should remain with any one of their host's impartiality, he thought it fairer that they should cast lots, and hazard all alike.

The poet, who had heard the Master's disapprobation given pointedly of his tale, sided with Yardbire, and voted that it should be decided by lot. Gibbie, though quite convinced in his own mind that he had told the best story, yet having heard the _morality_ of it doubted, and dreading on that score to have some voices against him, called also for a vote; for he said the referring the matter to the Master brought him in mind of the story of the fox sitting in judgment, and deciding against the lamb. The friar also said, "Verily, I should give my voice for the judgment of the Master to stand decisive: But, lo! is it not apparent that his thoughts are not like the thoughts of other men?

Neither is his mind governed by the motives of the rest of the children of men. I do therefore lift up my voice for the judgment that goeth by lot. I would, notwithstanding of all this, gladly hear what the Master would say."

"I will be so far just that I shall give you your choice," said Master Michael Scott: "Nevertheless I can tell you, if there be any justice in the decision by lot, on whom the lot will fall." A pause of breathless anxiety occurred, and every eye was fixed on the grim and stern visage of the great necromancer, over whose features there appeared to pa.s.s a gleam of wild delight. "It will fall," added he, "on that man of fables and similitudes, who himself bears the similitude of a man, just as the lion's hide stuffed does the resemblance of a real one. How do you call that beautiful and amiable being with the nose that would split a drop of rain without being wet?"

"Most ill.u.s.trious knight, and master of the arts of mystery," said the friar,--"as this man is, so is his name; for he is called Jordan, after the great river that is in the east, which overfloweth its banks at certain seasons, and falls into the stagnant lake called the Dead Sea, whose waters are diseased. So doth the matter of this our friend overflow, pa.s.s away, and is lost. But what sayest thou of the default of his story? Dost thou remember that it is not for the best story that we cast lots, but the worst?"

"Ay, that's weel said, good friar," said Charlie; "for, trifling as the laird's story was, I never heard ought sae queer, or that interested ane mair. If there be ony justice in lots, the laird's safe."

"Your's was the best tale, gallant yeoman," said the Master, "and you may rest a.s.sured that you are safe. The dumb judge will not err, and there is one overlooks the judgment by lot, of whom few are aware. I say your's was the best tale.

"Thank ye kindly, Master Michael Scott," said Charlie; "I'm feared ilk ane winna be o' your opinion."

The friar then took from the side-pockets of his frock a few sc.r.a.ps of parchment, amounting to fifteen. Twelve of these he marked with a red cross, and three with a black one, to prevent all infernal interference; then rolling them closely up, he counted them all into his cowl before his companions, and, shaking them together, he caused every one to do the same. Then putting the cowl into the virgin's hand, they desired her to hold it until they drew forth their sc.r.a.ps one by one. She did so, while her bright eyes were drowned in tears, and each of the candidates put in his hand, selecting his lot.

"Let them be opened, one by one, before all these witnesses," cried the Master; "that no suspicions of foul play whatever may remain."

The friar drew forth his without one muscle of his unyielding features being altered, and turning deliberately about, he opened it before them all. It was red. The friar bowed his head, and made the sign of the cross. Charlie thrust in his hand,--pulled out a ticket,--and tore it open, all in one moment, and with the same impatience that he fought in a battle. His was likewise red.

"Gude faith I'm aince ower the water," said Charlie.

Tam put in his hand with a decision that would have done honour to a better man, the form of his mouth only being a little altered.

"Now, who will take me a bet of a three-year old cout," cried Gibbie, "that the next shall turn out a black one?" and he grinned a ghastly smile, in antic.i.p.ation of the wished event. Tam kept his hand within the cowl for a good while, as if groping which to select. At length he drew one forth; and before he got it opened, Gibbie's long nose and his own had met above it, so eager was each of them to see what it contained. It was opened. Each of them raised up his face, and looked at the face of his opponent; but with what different expressions of countenance! The cross on the lot was red! Grief, dread, and disappointment were all apparent in the features of poor Jordan, while the exulting looks of his provoking neighbour were hardly to be endured.

"What think you o' that now, laird?" cried he. "What does that bring you in mind o'? Eh? I say, wha's jugular vein swells highest now; or wha's shoulder-blade stands maist need o' clawing?"

This was rather more than Gibbie was disposed at that juncture to bear; and when Tam, as he concluded, put forth his forefinger to ascertain the thickness of fat on the laird's ribs, the latter struck him with such force on the wrist, that he rendered his arm powerless for a s.p.a.ce. He put his hand to his sword, but could not grasp it; while Gibbie, seeing the motion, had his out in a twinkling; and if the staunch friar had not turned it aside, he would have had it through the heart of the deil's Tam in a second, which might have prevented the further drawing of lots for that present time, and thereby put an end to a very critical and disagreeable business.

Gibbie was far from being a hot or pa.s.sionate man; but whether his rage was a manoere to put by the decision, or if he really was offended at being handled like a wedder for slaughter, the curate pretends not to guess. He however raged and fumed exceedingly, and tried again and again to wound Tam, while the rest were remonstrating with him; nor would he be pacified, until Tam's disabled arm by degrees regaining somewhat of its pristine nerve, he retreated back towards the battlement for sword-room, and dared the laird to the combat. Gibbie struggled hard; but finding that they were about to let him go, his wrath subsided a little; he put up his sword, and said the whole business reminded him of a story of the laird of Tweelsdon and his two brothers, which he a.s.sured them was a prime story, and begged permission to tell it. This was protested against with one voice until the business of the lots was decided, and then all were willing to hear it. "Oh, the lots? that is quite true," said Gibbie: "I declare that business had gone out of my head. Let us see what casts up next." There was a relaxation in every muscle of Gibbie's face as he put his hand into the cowl. But Gibbie's was a sort of a cross face. It did not grow long and sallow as most other men's faces do when they are agitated. The jaws did not fall down, they closed up; so that his face grew a great deal shorter and broader. The eye-brows and the cheek-bones met, and the nose and chin approached to a close vicinity. He drew forth the momentous sc.r.a.p, and, with fumbling and paralytic hand, opened it before them. The cross was black. He dared not lift his eyes to any face there save to Delany's, and when he saw it covered with tears his looks again reverted that way. This lot it is true was not decisive, yet it placed Gibbie on ticklish ground; it having been agreed, that whoever should draw the two first black crosses, subjected himself to immolation, if the necessity of the case required it. The great Master and Tam were visibly well pleased with the wicked chance that had fallen to the laird. The motives of the former for this delight were quite a mystery to those who beheld it; as for Tam, he seemed determined to keep no more terms with poor Gibbie.

The poet also drew a red one; and then it was decreed, that the next round Gibbie should have his choice of the time, if he judged it any advantage either to be first or last. He seemed quite pa.s.sive, and said it was all one to him, he should draw at any time they chose, and desired his friend Yardbire, as he termed him, to choose for him.

Charlie said he deemed the first chance the best, as he had then four chances to be right, for one of being wrong; and it would be singular indeed if his hand fixed on a black cross again for a time or two, when more of them might be on an equal footing.

Gibbie accordingly turned round, and drew out one more of the ominous sc.r.a.ps, opening it under the eyes of all the circle with rather a hopeful look. "If the deil be nae in the cowl, I shall hae a red ane this time," said he, as he unrolled it; but as soon as the head of the cross appeared the ticket fell from his hand; and, as the friar expressed it, there was no more strength remaining in him. "Verily, my son, thy fate is decided," said the latter worthy; "and that in a wonderful and arbitrary manner. As the Master said, so hath it come to pa.s.s, although to judge of any thing having been done unfairly is impossible."

"It is absolute nonsense to talk of aught being done fairly in this place," said Charlie Scott: "There's naething but witchcraft gaun. I tell ye a' things here are done by witchery an' the black arts; and after what I heard the king of a' warlocks say, that the lot wad fa'