CHAPTER XLVIII
AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT
When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the Baron of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and having disposed those under his command in their proper stations, sought the Chieftain of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward Waverley. He found the former busied in determining disputes among his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of valour, besides sundry high and doubtful questions concerning plunder. The most important of the last respected the property of a gold watch, which had once belonged to some unfortunate English officer. The party against whom judgment was awarded consoled himself by observing, 'She (i.e. the watch, which he took for a living animal) died the very night Vich lan Vohr gave her to Murdoch'; the machine, having, in fact, stopped for want of winding up.
It was just when this important question was decided that the Baron of Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression of countenance, joined the two young men. He descended from his reeking charger, the care of which he recommended to one of his grooms. 'I seldom ban, sir,' said he to the man; 'but if you play any of your hound's-foot tricks, and leave puir Berwick before he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil be wi' me if I do not give your craig a thraw.' He then stroked with great complacency the animal which had borne him through the fatigues of the day, and having taken a tender leave of him—' Weel, my good young friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he; 'but these loons of troopers fled ower soon. I should have liked to have shown you the true points of the pralium equestre, or equestrian combat, whilk their cowardice has postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and terror of warfare. Weel—I have fought once more in this old quarrel, though I admit I could not be so far BEN as you lads, being that it was my point of duty to keep together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even though they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by the blessing of God, may be his own case. But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr. Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a matter of mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of the house of Bradwardine. I crave your pardon, Ensign Maccombich, and yours, Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.'
The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering the death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage defiance. The Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had already bent his brow when Glennaquoich dragged his major from the spot, and remonstrated with him, in the authoritative tone of a chieftain, on the madness of reviving a quarrel in such a moment.
'The ground is cumbered with carcasses,' said the old mountaineer, turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'dupon it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich lan Vohr, that one should be Bradwardine's or mine.'
The Chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to the Baron. 'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and confidential voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years since in the unlucky affair at the mains.'
'Ah!' said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness of his features, 'I can take naickle frae a man to whom I have unhappily rendered sic a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprise me, Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at Martinmas ere Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him wrang. Ah! I have nae male lineage, and I should bear with one I have made childless, though you are aware the blood-wit was made up to your ain satisfaction by assythment, and that I have since expedited letters of slains. Weel, as I have said, I have no male issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain the honour of my house; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your peculiar and private attention.'
The two young men awaited to hear him, in anxious curiosity.
'I doubt na, lads,' he proceeded, 'but your education has been sae seen to that ye understand the true nature of the feudal tenures?'
Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 'Intimately, Baron,' and touched Waverley as a signal to express no ignorance.
'And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the barony of Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being blanch (which Craig opines ought to be Latinated blancum, or rather francum, a free holding) pro sermtio detrahendi, seu exuendi, caligas regis post battalliam.' Here Fergus turned his falcon eye upon Edward, with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrow, to which his shoulders corresponded in the same degree of elevation. 'Now, twa points of dubitation occur to me upon this topic. First, whether this service, or feudal homage, be at any event due to the person of the Prince, the words being, per expressum, caligas REGIS, the boots of the king himself; and I pray your opinion anent that particular before we proceed farther.'
'Why, he is Prince Regent,' answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable composure of countenance; 'and in the court of France all the honours are rendered to the person of the Regent which are due to that of the King. Besides, were I to pull off either of their boots, I would render that service to the young Chevalier ten times more willingly than to his father.'
' Ay, but I talk not of personal predilections. However, your authority is of great weight as to the usages of the court of France; and doubtless the Prince, as alter ego, may have a right to claim the homagium of the great tenants of the crown, since all faithful subjects are commanded, in the commission of regency, to respect him as the King's own person. Far, therefore, be it from me to diminish the lustre of his authority by withholding this act of homage, so peculiarly calculated to give it splendour; for I question if the Emperor of Germany hath his boots taken off by a free baron of the empire. But here lieth the second difficulty—the Prince wears no boots, but simply brogues and trews.'
This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity.
'Why,' said he, 'you know, Baron, the proverb tells us, "It's ill taking the breeks off a Highlandman," and the boots are here in the same predicament.'
'The word caligce, however,' continued the Baron, 'though I admit that, by family tradition, and even in our ancient evidents, it is explained "lie-boots," means, in its primitive sense, rather sandals; and Caius Caesar, the nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius, received the agnomen of Caligula, a caligulis sine caligis levioribus, quibus adolescentior usus fuerat in exercitu Germanici patris sui. And the caligce were also proper to the monastic bodies; for we read in an ancient glossarium upon the rule of Saint Benedict, in the Abbey of Saint Amand, that caligae were tied with latchets.'
'That will apply to the brogues,' said Fergus.
'It will so, my dear Glennaquoich, and the words are express: Caligae, dicta sunt quia ligantur; nam socci non ligantur, sed tantum intromittuntur; that is, caligae are denominated from the ligatures wherewith they are bound; whereas socci, which may be analogous to our mules, whilk the English denominate slippers, are only slipped upon the feet. The words of the charter are also alternative, exuere seu detrahere; that is, to undo, as in the case of sandals or brogues, and to pull of, as we say vernacularly concerning boots. Yet I would we had more light; but I fear there is little chance of finding hereabout any erudite author de re vestiaria.'
'I should doubt it very much,' said the Chieftain, looking around on the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with spoils of the slain,'though the res vestiaria itself seems to be in some request at present.'
This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he honoured it with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him appeared very serious business.
'Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds an opinion that this honorary service is due, from its very nature, si petatur tantum; only if his Royal Highness shall require of the great tenant of the crown to perform that personal duty; and indeed he pointed out the case in Dirleton's Doubts and Queries, Grippit versus Spicer, anent the eviction of an estate ob non solutum canonem; that is, for non-payment of a feu-duty of three pepper-corns a year, whilk were taxt to be worth seven-eighths of a penny Scots, in whilk the defender was assoilzied. But I deem it safest, wi' your good favour, to place myself in the way of rendering the Prince this service, and to proffer performance thereof; and I shall cause the Bailie to attend with a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here prepared (taking out a paper), intimating, that if it shall be his Royal Highness's pleasure to accept of other assistance at pulling off his caligae (whether the same shall be rendered boots or brogues) save that of the said Baron of Bradwardine, who is in presence ready and willing to perform the same, it shall in no wise impinge upon or prejudice the right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine to perform the said service in future; nor shall it give any esquire, valet of the chamber, squire, or page, whose assistance it may please his Royal Highness to employ, any right, title, or ground for evicting from the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine the estate and barony of Bradwardine, and others held as aforesaid, by the due and faithful performance thereof.'
Fergus highly applauded this arrangement; and the Baron took a friendly leave of them, with a smile of contented importance upon his visage.
'Long live our dear friend the Baron,' exclaimed the Chief, as soon as he was out of hearing, 'for the most absurd original that exists north of the Tweed! I wish to heaven I had recommended him to attend the circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his arm. I think he might have adopted the suggestion if it had been made with suitable gravity.'
'And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth so ridiculous?'
'Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as he. Why, do you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up in this ceremony? He has heard and thought of it since infancy as the most august privilege and ceremony in the world; and I doubt not but the expected pleasure of performing it was a principal motive with him for taking up arms. Depend upon it, had I endeavoured to divert him from exposing himself he would have treated me as an ignorant, conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might have taken a fancy to cut my throat; a pleasure which he once proposed to himself upon some point of etiquette not half so important, in his eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or whatever the caliga shall finally be pronounced by the learned. But I must go to headquarters, to prepare the Prince for this extraordinary scene. My information will be well taken, for it will give him a hearty laugh at present, and put him on his guard against laughing when it might be very mal-a-propos. So, au revoir, my dear Waverley.'
CHAPTER XLIX
THE ENGLISH PRISONER
The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the Chieftain, was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had saved. He was guarded, along with his companions in misfortune, who were very numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of battle.
On entering the room where they stood crowded together, Waverley easily recognised the object of his visit, not only by the peculiar dignity of his appearance, but by the appendage of Dugald Mahony, with his battleaxe, who had stuck to him from the moment of his captivity as if he had been skewered to his side. This close attendance was perhaps for the purpose of securing his promised reward from Edward, but it also operated to save the English gentleman from being plundered in the scene of general confusion; for Dugald sagaciously argued that the amount of the salvage which he might be allowed would be regulated by the state of the prisoner when he should deliver him over to Waverley. He hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more words than he usually employed, that he had 'keepit ta sidier roy haill, and that he wasna a plack the waur since the fery moment when his honour forbad her to gie him a bit clamhewit wi' her Lochaber-axe.'
Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, approaching the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do anything which might contribute to his convenience under his present unpleasant circumstances.
'I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,' answered the Englishman, 'as to complain of the fortune of war. I am only grieved to see those scenes acted in our own island which I have often witnessed elsewhere with comparative indifference.'
'Another such day as this,' said Waverley, 'and I trust the cause of your regrets will be removed, and all will again return to peace and order.'
The officer smiled and shook his head. 'I must not forget my situation so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that opinion; but, notwithstanding your success and the valour which achieved it, you have undertaken a task to which your strength appears wholly inadequate.'
At this moment Fergus pushed into the press.
'Come, Edward, come along; the Prince has gone to Pinkie House for the night; and we must follow, or lose the whole ceremony of the caligae. Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a great piece of cruelty; he has insisted upon dragging Bailie Macwheeble out to the field of battle. Now, you must know, the Bailie's greatest horror is an armed Highlander or a loaded gun; and there he stands, listening to the Baron's instructions concerning the protest, ducking his head like a sea-gull at the report of every gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing upon the fields, and undergoing, by way of penance, at every symptom of flinching a severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the discharge of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank distance, as an apology for neglecting a discourse in which the honour of his family is interested.'
'But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?' said Edward.
'Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of making some of our wills; and the peremptory commands of the Baron dragged him forward to Preston after the battle was over. He complains of one or two of our ragamuffins having put him in peril of his life by presenting their pieces at him; but as they limited his ransom to an English penny, I don't think we need trouble the provost-marshal upon that subject. So come along, Waverley.'
'Waverley!' said the English officer, with great emotion;' the nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of ——shire?'
'The same, sir,' replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the tone in which he was addressed.
'I am at once happy and grieved,' said the prisoner, 'to have met with you.'
'I am ignorant, sir,' answered Waverley, 'how I have deserved so much interest.'
'Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot?'
'I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person,' replied Edward; 'a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the husband of Lady Emily Blandeville; but I thought Colonel Talbot had been abroad.'
'I am just returned,' answered the officer; 'and being in Scotland, thought it my duty to act where my services promised to be useful. Yes, Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the husband of the lady you have named; and I am proud to acknowledge that I owe alike my professional rank and my domestic happiness to your generous and noble-minded relative. Good God! that I should find his nephew in such a dress, and engaged in such a cause!'
'Sir,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the dress and cause are those of men of birth and honour.'
'My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,' said Colonel Talbot; 'otherwise it were no difficult matter to show that neither courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause. But, with Mr. Waverley's permission and yours, sir, if yours also must be asked, I would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs connected with his own family.'
'Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions. You will follow me, I suppose, to Pinkie,' said Fergus, turning to Edward, 'when you have finished your discourse with this new acquaintance?' So saying, the Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather more than his usual air of haughty assumption and left the apartment.
The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot the freedom of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place of confinement. They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot apparently studying how to open what he had to say; at length he addressed Edward.
'Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life; and yet I would to God that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the uniform and cockade of these men.'
'I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot; it is well meant, and your education and prejudices render it natural. But there is nothing extraordinary in finding a man whose honour has been publicly and unjustly assailed in the situation which promised most fair to afford him satisfaction on his calumniators.'
'I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the reports which they have circulated,' said Colonel Talbot, 'by following the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware, Mr. Waverley, of the infinite distress, and even danger, which your present conduct has occasioned to your nearest relatives?'
'Danger!'
'Yes, sir, danger. When I left England your uncle and father had been obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to which they were only admitted by the exertion of the most powerful interest. I came down to Scotland with the sole purpose of rescuing you from the gulf into which you have precipitated yourself; nor can I estimate the consequences to your family of your having openly joined the rebellion, since the very suspicion of your intention was so perilous to them. Most deeply do I regret that I did not meet you before this last and fatal error.'
'I am really ignorant,' said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 'why Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account.'
'Mr. Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending irony; and therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain meaning. I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a son; and as I know there is no manner in which I can requite his kindness so well as by serving you, I will serve you, if possible, whether you will permit me or no. The personal obligation which you have this day laid me under (although, in common estimation, as great as one human being can bestow on another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that zeal be abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive it.'
'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but your language is harsh, or at least p