Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loon,
Nor shalt thou yield to me;
But yield thee to the braken bush
That grows on yon lilye lee.—Old Ballad.

"What more have I to hear of this false noble and his followers?" said the king, after briefly, and to Gray's great annoyance, rehearsing the whole story of the murder of his vassal, the miller of Carluke, in the sanctuary of Lesmahago.

"The earl has lawlessly seized, and ignominiously imprisoned, in his hold of Thrave, a good and loyal servant of your majesty."

"That is nothing new; but what is his name?" asked James, grasping the arms of the chair, and thrusting aside the tabourette with his foot, while his hazel eyes flashed fire with anger, and his dark brows were knit.

"Sir Thomas MacLellan, of Bombie," replied the chancellor, with grave energy.

"My friend—the Lieutenant of my Guard!"

"My brave kinsman!"

Such were the exclamations of the king and of Sir Patrick Gray, who had come from the sunny recess of the window, and in deep anxiety stood near the chancellor's chair to listen. In his anger, James snatched from the table his amber rosary and dagger of mercy, as if about to utter some vague threat or malediction, and then cast them from him, though the latter was the gift of his brother-in-law, Sigismund of Austria, and was hilted by a single agate.

"Sir Thomas MacLellan, of Bombie," resumed the chancellor, gravely and earnestly, "your majesty's steward of Kirkcudbright, is now a prisoner in the castle of Thrave manacled with the heaviest chains MacKim, the earl's smith, can forge, and hourly is menaced with death."

"And wherefore has this been done?"

"The whole of this new outrage is detailed to me in a letter from the abbot of Tongland, who has at last—the pedantic fool! the very dunce!—(excuse me, my lord abbot of Melrose)—abandoned the earl, his chief, and has secluded himself in his abbey, despairing, I presume, of the reformation of Douglas, as of that of the devil himself, concerning whom he so lately visited Rome."

From the letters of the abbot, the lord chancellor then proceeded to relate that there were three reasons for this capture and imprisonment of the Steward of Kirkcudbright. The first was, that Sir Thomas, who was chief of a powerful Celtic tribe, possessing all the peninsula between the Dee and the Solway, had taken part with the late Sir Herbert Herries, of Terregles, his kinsman, against the Douglases, and had thereby excited the ready wrath of the earl. The second cause of hatred was, that he had borne a letter from the Captain of the King's Guard to the Lady Murielle Douglas, and had shot it to her feet by an arrow, as she was walking near the castle wall of Thrave. The third, that he had refused to join a league, and sign a bond for levying war against the king. For these three causes the earl, taking advantage of MacLellan being at his own castle of Raeberry, whither he had retired in consequence of a sword-wound received from Lord Piercy at the battle of Sark, despatched three hundred men-at-arms under James Achanna to bring him dead or alive to Thrave, after sacking and demolishing his residence.

Achanna marched on this lawless mission; but true to his infamous nature, he preferred fraud to force. Raeberry, of which there now remains but a deep fosse, overhung a dreadful precipice, on the bluffs of which the united waves of the Solway Frith and the Atlantic pour their fury. It was deemed impregnable, and was protected on the north by a strong rampart, a drawbridge, and a deep trench. Achanna, aware of these difficulties on one side, and perils on all the rest, seduced one of the warders—a man in whom MacLellan trusted most—by promising, that if he would leave the secret postern open, "for a single hour, upon a certain night, he should have a ladleful of gold."

The wretch agreed. The wicket was left unbarred, Achanna and his band rushed in, overpowered the inmates of Raeberry, and dragged Sir Thomas from bed, severely wounding his nephew, William MacLellan, a brave boy, who fought to save him. On finding that he had been betrayed by his most trusted servant, and to the Douglases, Sir Thomas exclaimed in the bitterness of his heart,—

"Wretch—oh, wretch! mayest thou live to feel the despair that wrung the heart of Judas when he flung to the accursed Jews their thirty pieces of silver."

At these words, the abashed warder shrunk back, but the hireling Achanna laughed loudly, and ordering his prisoner to be bound with cords, conveyed him on horseback to Thrave, where the imperious Douglas, after loading him with fetters, insults, and opprobrium, thrust him into the dungeon.

"All these outrages, to a steward of our stewardry—a loyal knight and baron—the Lieutenant of our Guard!" exclaimed the king, in mingled tones of regret and rage; "verily the time has come for me to exchange my crown either for a helmet, or for the tonsure of a shaven friar. And this dog of a warder——"

"Met with the stipulated reward of his treachery, and in a manner little to his liking, on presenting himself next evening at Thrave to receive the promised bribe."

"'Thou shalt have it, false limmer,—every farthing,—yea, godspenny and principal,' said Douglas, sternly; 'though in a way, I trow, but little to your advantage.'"

"'How, my lord?'" asked the trembling wretch.

"'Molten hot, and poured down your dog's-throat, to warn my warders of Thrave what they may expect if they so betrayed me, and not to sleep with their doors unlatched. Away with him to the kitchen, and let this be his doom!'"

"In vain did the wretch shriek for mercy on his bended knees; he was dragged to the kitchen of the castle, and there the commands of the earl were literally and awfully obeyed. The skimming-ladle of the great pot was filled with new gold lions (each of which had the image of St. Andrew on one side, and a lion rampant on the other); after being molten to a seething mass, they were poured down the throat of the warder, and in ten minutes after, his mutilated corpse was flung into the gallows slot."[3]

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The metal was molten by the command of Douglas, and poured down his throat; and thus he received both his reward and punishment at the same time.—"History of Galloway," 1841, vol. i.