And with a significant glance, this stern statesman turned and left him, as if disdaining further defence of himself.
Gray supposed that the vast train of Douglas would assemble and depart at once, on learning the tidings of the execution: thus, if he would see Murielle, he must visit her without delay. But such a visit was fraught with danger, so great was the excitement which reigned in the city, where an assault of the castle was considered imminent.
Carefully divesting himself of everything by which he might be recognized, he put on a shirt of fine mail, which fitted him like a kid-glove. Over this he buttoned a pourpoint of plain black cloth; a steel gorget protected his neck; and a salade effectually did the same office for his head, while at the same time it completely concealed his face; and, armed with his sword and dagger, he sallied forth into the streets, where the shops and booths were closed, and at the Cross, the Butter Tron, the doors of St. Giles's Church, and other places, sullen and excited groups of citizens were mingled with the wild and unruly billmen, pikemen, and archers, who had come from the banks of the Nith and the Annan; or with armed knights, who rode hurriedly to and fro, briefly questioning each other, or gathering for angry conference. Many yet averred that the story of the execution was false, and that the earl and his brother with Sir Malcolm Fleming were merely imprisoned in the vaults of that grim fortress towards which many an angry eye was turned, and towards which many a gauntleted hand was clenched and shaken.
But James Achanna spread the truth industriously; and then a dreadful shout, or many shouts commingling into one, rang along the streets from mouth to mouth.
"Horse and spear! A Douglas! a Douglas! Fye, fye! Vengeance on the king and the pack of sworn traitors who surround him! Down with his lurdane burgesses and silken lords! Death to the regent and chancellor!"
Such were the cries heard on every hand.
"Oh, had the legate of Rome but listened to me!" exclaimed the abbot of Tongland; "oh, had his holiness but favoured me, than had Sathanas been forgiven; evil had departed from us, and we had not seen this day of woe!"
On one hand the great common-bell of the city was rung by order of Sir Thomas Cranstoun, the provost, to summon the people to arms, for their own protection and that of the king; on the other, the bells of the churches were tolling, to call them to prayer; so that as many as possible, especially "wives and bairns," might be kept from danger. The blare of trumpets, the twanging of horns were heard in wynd and alley, with the clatter of iron hoofs and clinking of steel, as Ormond, Abercorn, Pompherston, Glendoning, and other feudatories mustered their "followings;" and amid all this hubbub and dismay, this rushing to and fro of armed, pale-faced, and excited men in search of sure intelligence, our anxious lover passed through the city, and reached, unquestioned and unannounced, the outer gate of the abbot's mansion.
Just as he was about to enter, a man passed out of the archway.
This person was fully armed in a chain shirt, with a steel helmet, from the rim of which a camaile, or tippet of fine steel rings, closely interwoven, fell upon the shoulders to protect the neck. His gauntlets were of brass; he carried a dagger at his girdle, and a ghisarma in his hands. Through the open helmet, Sir Patrick Gray at once recognized the malevolent eyes of James Achanna, the follower of the Douglases, and the paid spy of Crichton, a thorough Scottish utilitarian of the fifteenth century.
"Grant me mercy, Sir Patrick," said he, with well-feigned concern, "what make you here, at such a time as this? Do you bear a charmed life?"
"You know me, then?" exclaimed the soldier, somewhat disconcerted.
"When you wish to be unknown, you should leave this golden chain at home," said Achanna, lifting the links of one worn by Gray above his gorget.
"How, sir, – what do you infer?" asked the latter, biting his lips with undisguised annoyance, for the chain in question was a gift from Murielle.
"I have seen it on a fairer neck, but at such a time are you safe beyond the castle gate?"
"Oh, heed me not, my good man," replied the soldier, contemptuously; "my hands could always keep my head – be sure that yours can do the same for you."
"That we shall prove," muttered the other with his malignant smile, as he passed out, and they separated.
In the adjacent wynd, or alley, he met James of Avondale and Abercorn, riding down hastily with a troop of armed followers, all excited almost to madness by the conflicting statements circulated in the city, while at the gate of the fortress, where Abercorn had gone, being anxious to learn the truth, the sole reply was the pointed crossbow or hand-gun, levelled at all who approached.
The subtle earl of Abercorn and Avondale knew well by the advices of his creature, Achanna, that both his nephews were effectually and for ever removed from his path, and that as next of kin, the vast possessions of the house of Douglas – their titles, lands, manors, and fortresses were his —his beyond recall! But as yet he found it prudent to affect to doubt the terrible story; and thus he had been swaggering over all the city in his armour, threatening with vengeance, fire and sword, the king, the regent, the chancellor, and all their adherents.
"Achanna," he exclaimed, curbing his horse, "the common rumour says my kinsmen were slain yesterday, – foully murdered by the chancellor and his minions under form of law."
"Alake, my lord," whined Achanna (who had detailed to him all the transaction most circumstantially, on the preceding evening), "I fear the rumour is but too true; woe worth the day! woe worth the day!"
On this the armed horsemen clenched their mailed hands, or shook their spears aloft, and muttered deep oaths in the hollow of their helmets.
"By St. Bryde of Douglas, I would give a year's rental of Touraine for the head of Livingstone, of Crichton, or even of the wretch who acted as their doomster!" exclaimed Abercorn, still acting as if inspired by grief and indignation.
"A year's rent of Touraine is a pretty sum," said Achanna, musingly.
"Ay, ten thousand crowns," added the earl, grimly.
"How freely he spends his new-won property," thought Achanna, adding aloud, "the headsman was masked, 'tis said."
"By whom?"
"The common rumour."
"Masked was he?" said the laird of Pompherston; "a wise precaution, as there is not a Douglas in the land but will be ready to whet a dagger on his breast bone!"
"Well, sirs, this perilous carle is even now within arm's length of us."
"Hah! here, say you, Achanna?" said Abercorn.
"Even so, – Sir Patrick Gray."
"The Captain of the Guard! Was it he?"
"None else," was the villainous response.
"And he – he," cried twenty voices.
"Is now in the Abbot's House, at the feet of Lady Murielle, or, perhaps, at the feet of the countess; I know not which he loves, for there be some in Galloway who aver he affects them both."
"In the house here – art thou sure, Achanna?" hissed the earl, through his teeth, while a livid gleam lit his dark and sinister eyes, for he bitterly hated Gray, and had other views for Murielle than she had yet foreseen. Moreover, a ready victim was required to appease the fury which inspired the turbulent followers of his slaughtered nephews, and none could be so fit for his purpose as the Captain of the Guard. "Art thou sure," he added, "that Gray is here?"