Jane Seton; or, The King's Advocate: A Scottish Historical Romance
Redhall, to behold that beautiful figure extended, almost nude,
before so many unpitying and so many voluptuous eyes. His agony was
frightful. He could have screamed aloud; and, to prevent himself
doing so, buried his fingers in his breast beneath his robe. And
there she lay, with a form that might have passed for Venus--one so
delicate by nature and nurture, with her slender wrists and round
white ankles enclosed by strong iron bands, and her uncovered bosom
submitted to the eyes of so many men, and the rough paws of the
ruffian Birrel.
There were a few generous hearts in the crowd who cried "_shame!_"
and more than one gallant hand sought the hilt of a sword.
A pink spot, like a little rose-leaf, was discovered between her
bosom and her waist, and to this the pricker, after making the sign
of the cross and other preparations, applied his brod, or needle,
which was three inches long, and, to the horror and astonishment of
all, it sank up to the very handle in the mark, without Lady Seton
wincing once, or seeming even aware that she was touched by the
instrument.
Again and again the operation was repeated, and the pity of the
generous few became blended with the fear and repugnance of the many.
"The mark of hell--the signet of Satan is always thus," said the Lord
Kinloss; "for it is lost to all sensation, and deadened to the touch
of every instrument--it is bloodless."
The long sharp needle of Birrel was pure and bright, as well it might
be; for it was constructed like a theatrical poniard, to _retire_
into the handle with the slightest pressure.
Blank dismay was impressed on every face.
Thrice Redhall asked her, in a hoarse and hollow voice, to confess,
and thrice she gazed at him wildly, but made no reply; for the powers
of life seemed already to have forsaken her. He then made a signal
to Sanders Screw, and turned away his head.
Sanders, with his wrinkled and fibrous hands, grasped the handspikes
of the windlass as a seaman would previous to starting an anchor.
Then, with the whole weight and strength of his meagre body, the
wretch suddenly depressed them, and every joint of the unhappy being
cracked in its socket.
Father St. Bernard muffled his head in his cowl, to shut out the
fearful sound.
She uttered a cry, the horror of which contrasted strangely with the
sweetness and melody of her voice. Redhall felt as if he could have
expired; and, in unison with her, he uttered a groan so painful and
full of despair, that it must have startled all, had it not been
blended with the cry of Jane.
"Mother of God! Mother of God! I will confess--I will confess! Oh,
Roland, Roland!"
At these words Redhall bent his head towards the floor, for he felt
that he had the face of a Nero, the eyes of a fiend, and he gave
another of his horrible smiles. The name of Roland recalled his
hatred, and that hatred triumphed over terror and compunction, as
ferocity did over feebleness. The bars were a little relaxed, but
she was not loosed until the following questions were answered:--
"Jane Seton," said Redhall, in a calm voice, and with an equally calm
visage, for, being master of himself, his whole aspect was now as
still as it the stormy passions which convulsed his heart were dead;
"Jane Seton, dost thou confess to the damnable, the treasonable, and
blasphemous sin of compassing and procuring, by sorcery and idols,
the death of umquhile the queen's grace, of good memorie?"
"Oh, have mercy upon me!" she murmured.
"Dost thou confess it?"
"Yes."
"Attend, clerks of court. Thou dost confess to having a familiar imp
in the shape of a black page, who became the father of thy little
devils?"
"Yes."
"Um--um--_coitus cum diabolo_," muttered a clerk of court, writing.
"How many?"
"I know not."
"Another proof of deep sorcery," said the lord president, "for the
witches of Germany have been known to have twelve imps at a birth."
"And thou didst suckle these uncounted devils at the mark on thy
bosom?"
"Yes, yes; oh, hast thou no pity?"
"Thou false heretic, apostate, liar, and renouncer of thy baptism,
thou dost confess to having read English books, containing the dark
and damnable heresies of----"
"This belongs to another court," said the abbot Mylne. "My Lord
Advocate, we have no jurisdiction here in ecclesiastical matters.
Surely, my lords, no further proofs are required?"
The capped or cowled heads of the fourteen lords shook or nodded an
assent, and, at a word from Redhall Jane was unbound and replaced on
her seat; where, with a pale, distorted face, and half insane aspect,
she gazed about her, with terrified eyes, between the dishevelled
masses of her hair. Her hands, weak, trembling, and almost
dislocated, endeavoured to restore the disorder of her dress, but
failed in their office.
The physician kindly parted her hair, and drew her disordered dress
over her uncovered shoulders.
"Unhappy lady," he whispered, putting something between her lips,
"take this comfit--it renders one almost invulnerable to pain; though
it be not such as those to which the divine Artesius owed his eternal
youth and health. But it is the essence of a wondrous herb; for
whatever God planteth, hath its good or bad qualities."
Without hearing him, intent only on retracting her rack-extorted
confession, she gathered her hair back from her pallid face with
trembling hands, and arose, but only to sink powerlessly on her seat,
for her limbs now refused to sustain her, as her tongue refused to
speak; for though her bloodless lips were moving, they uttered no
sound. Forced by the torture, a bright streak of pink was oozing
from her nostrils.
Again she essayed to speak, but now the jury, without being charged,
and without retiring--for such were not then the customs--by the
voice of their chancellor, unanimously declared her guilty; and after
a brief muttering and bending together of cowled heads, the abbot of
Cambuskenneth proceeded at once to pass the sentence.
Taking off his black monastic cap, he raised his eyes, and was heard
muttering something. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus
Sancti, et benedictæ Nostræ Dominæ Sanctissimæ Mariæ. Thou false
sorceress," he said, suddenly resuming his cap and raising his
voice,--"thou heretic, blasphemer of thy God, and renouncer of thy
baptism, for the crimes committed and this day doubly proved against
thee by witnesses and from confession, I adjudge thee to be taken to
the Castlehill of Edinburgh at twelve o'clock on the night of the
feast of St. Margaret the martyr, five days from hence, and there to
be burned at a stake, until thou art consumed to ashes, which shall
be scattered to the four winds of Heaven, AND THIS I PRONOUNCE FOR
DOOM!"
The priestly president ended his sentence by extinguishing the candle
which stood at his right hand--an emblem of death, or that hope was
gone for ever. Thereupon, Dobbie the Doomster, clad in sackcloth
braided with white cord, and having a white cross and skull sewn on
his back and breast, approached, and laid a hand upon her shoulder,
signifying that she was now his peculiar charge.
Those lords who were priests waved a benediction to the people, so
much did they (by mere force of habit) mingle religious with civil
ceremony; then the whole bench arose, and the macer shouldered his
mace; but at that moment the clash of swords was heard, and a violent
uproar arose at the door of the Exchequer Hall.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE GAGE OF BATTLE.
"In an evil hour I left her,
Left her! more I need not say;
Since in my absence came another
Lover, all my peace to slay.
I a captive, he a freeman,
Ah! our fates how different;
Since your arm hath made me captive,
See how justly I lament."
CALDERSON'S _Constant Prince_
Above the clang of steel and the trampling of feet, a voice was heard
that thrilled Jane to the heart; and though feeble, aided by the iron
railing of the bar, she suddenly arose, with her hands outstretched
and her beautiful eyes bent towards the doorway, where the
pike-points were glittering above the heads of the crowd. Love and
despair gave to her aspect a courage and sublimity which vividly
impressed the hearts of all. Between the thick stone mullions and
grotesque tracery of a tall gothic window, and through the painted
glass, the forenoon sun shone bright and joyously, lighting up her
features with a radiance and beauty, the more remarkable by the
fantastic prisms of the oriel, and she stood like a beautiful
Pythoness.
As she turned away, Redhall ventured to gaze upon her, which he had
not yet dared to do; for he felt that he trembled whenever her glance
fell on him. She was but the spectre of what she was, and it was he
that had made that havoc! A beautiful though hectic colour had
momentarily replaced her frightful pallor, but he knew the emotion
that caused it. The old whirlwind of passion arose in his heart, and
he sank into a chair.
The clank of armour, the noise and swaying to and fro of the crowd
continued.
"A rescue!" said the president, and all his brother senators drew
towards him, and grew pale.
"Nay, think not of it, my lord," said one, the Knight of Auldhame,
loosening his sword in its sheath; "for those lances of Sir Andrew
Preston are more than guard enough."
At that moment Roland Vipont, master of the king's ordnance, broke
through the mass of people, and approached the bench, with his armour
rattling and his spurs clanking as he walked. He was cap-à-pié, with
his visor up, and his plume was covered by the dust of a long summer
march. With his sword drawn in one hand, and his gauntlet in the
other, he appeared before the startled tribunal.
Ghastly and pale with fury and fatigue, he looked grimly at the bench
beneath the steel bars of his aventayle; and with an air which he
alone, above all the Scottish noblesse possessed, confronted them
like one valiant Trojan in a Grecian camp.
"Father Abbot, my Lord President, justice--I sue for justice!" said
he.
"And how darest thou come hither in armour to seek it?" demanded the
president, with kindling eyes.
"Armour is my garb, because I am a knight and the king's soldier;
besides, I dare do whatever becometh a Scottish man," replied Vipont;
"and I this day stand before you to demand justice at the sword's
point!"
"It has already been given!"
"Priest and judge though them art, I tell thee them liest! And here
I lay down the gage of battle in accordance with the laws of
Scotland, of justice, and of chivalry, binding myself to maintain
with the edge of this good sword, and by the aid of the blessed God,
on foot or on horseback, in the lists of Edinburgh, or at the
Gallowlee of Leith, that Lady Jane Seton is pure and innocent of the
crimes alleged against her--pure as when Heaven created her, and that
all men who uphold the contrary lie--foully lie! Here lies my
glove!" and he hurled the steel gauntlet on the table with a clash
which made the clerks of the court start from their seats with
dismay; for, like all limbs of the law, they had a mortal aversion to
cold iron in every shape.
There was a momentary pause; and Redhall, who gazed with gloating
eyes upon the lover's agony, felt half-inclined to take up the gage,
for notwithstanding his unruly passions and studied vengeance, he was
both brave and rash; but the stern voice of the president arrested
him, saying--
"Sir Roland Vipont, this claim for the ordeal of battle comes too
late, and cannot be admitted. She has fully and amply confessed;
besides, this man hath found the mark of hell upon her bosom!"
"Her bosom--this man--John Dargavel!" exclaimed Roland, startled on
perceiving the person whom he had compelled to swallow his own poison.