The Fortunes of Nigel by Walter Scott (bookreader .txt) 📖

of ours. There he stands, and wha kens if he wants the money on the nail, or if he might not be as weel pleased wi' a bit rescript on our treasury some six months hence? Ye ken that our Exchequer is even at a low ebb just now, and ye cry pay, pay, pay, as if we had all the mines of Ophir.”

“Please your Majesty,” said Heriot, “if this man has the real right to these monies, it is doubtless at his will to grant forbearance, if he will. But when I remember the guise in which I first saw him, with a tattered cloak and a broken head, I can hardly conceive it.—Are not you Richie Moniplies, with the king's favour?”

“Even sae, Master Heriot—of the ancient and honourable house of Castle Collop, near to the West Port of Edinburgh,” answered Richie.

“Why, please your Majesty, he is a poor serving-man,” said Heriot. “This money can never be honestly at his disposal.”

“What for no?” said the king. “Wad ye have naebody spraickle up the brae but yoursell, Geordie? Your ain cloak was thin enough when ye cam here, though ye have lined it gay and weel. And for serving-men, there has mony a red-shank cam over the Tweed wi' his master's wallet on his shoulders, that now rustles it wi' his six followers behind him. There stands the man himsell; speer at him, Geordie.”

“His may not be the best authority in the case,” answered the cautious citizen.

“Tut, tut, man,” said the king, “ye are over scrupulous. The knave deer-stealers have an apt phrase, Non est inquirendum unde venit VENISON. He that brings the gudes hath surely a right to dispose of the gear.—Hark ye, friend, speak the truth and shame the deil. Have ye plenary powers to dispose on the redemption-money as to delay of payments, or the like, ay or no?”

“Full power, an it like your gracious Majesty,” answered Richie Moniplies; “and I am maist willing to subscrive to whatsoever may in ony wise accommodate your Majesty anent the redemption-money, trusting your Majesty's grace will be kind to me in one sma' favour.”

“Ey, man,” said the king, “come ye to me there? I thought ye wad e'en be like the rest of them.—One would think our subjects' lives and goods were all our ain, and holden of us at our free will; but when we stand in need of ony matter of siller from them, which chances more frequently than we would it did, deil a boddle is to be had, save on the auld terms of giff-gaff. It is just niffer for niffer.—Aweel, neighbour, what is it that ye want—some monopoly, I reckon? Or it may be a grant of kirk-lands and teinds, or a knighthood, or the like? Ye maun be reasonable, unless ye propose to advance more money for our present occasions.”

“My liege,” answered Richie Moniplies, “the owner of these monies places them at your Majesty's command, free of all pledge or usage as long as it is your royal pleasure, providing your Majesty will condescend to show some favour to the noble Lord Glenvarloch, presently prisoner in your royal Tower of London.”

“How, man—how,—man—how, man!” exclaimed the king, reddening and stammering, but with emotions more noble than those by which he was sometimes agitated—“What is that you dare to say to us?—Sell our justice!—sell our mercy!—and we a crowned king, sworn to do justice to our subjects in the gate, and responsible for our stewardship to Him that is over all kings?”—Here he reverently looked up, touched his bonnet, and continued, with some sharpness,—“We dare not traffic in such commodities, sir; and, but that ye are a poor ignorant creature, that have done us this day some not unpleasant service, we wad have a red iron driven through your tongue, in terrorem of others.—Awa with him, Geordie,—pay him, plack and bawbee, out of our monies in your hands, and let them care that come ahint.”

Richie, who had counted with the utmost certainty upon the success of this master-stroke of policy, was like an architect whose whole scaffolding at once gives way under him. He caught, however, at what he thought might break his fall. “Not only the sum for which the jewels were pledged,” he said, “but the double of it, if required, should be placed at his Majesty's command, and even without hope or condition of repayment, if only—”

But the king did not allow him to complete the sentence, crying out with greater vehemence than before, as if he dreaded the stability of his own good resolutions,—“Awa wi' him—swith awa wi' him! It is time he were gane, if he doubles his bode that gate. And, for your life, letna Steenie, or ony of them, hear a word from his mouth; for wha kens what trouble that might bring me into! Ne inducas in tentationem—Vade retro, Sathanas!—Amen.”

In obedience to the royal mandate, George Heriot hurried the abashed petitioner out of the presence and out of the Palace; and, when they were in the Palace-yard, the citizen, remembering with some resentment the airs of equality which Richie had assumed towards him in the commencement of the scene which had just taken place, could not forbear to retaliate, by congratulating him with an ironical smile on his favour at Court, and his improved grace in presenting a supplication.

“Never fash your beard about that, Master George Heriot,” said Richie, totally undismayed; “but tell me when and where I am to sifflicate you for eight hundred pounds sterling, for which these jewels stood engaged?”

“The instant that you bring with you the real owner of the money,” replied Heriot; “whom it is important that I should see on more accounts than one.”

“Then will I back to his Majesty,” said Richie Moniplies, stoutly, “and get either the money or the pledge back again. I am fully commissionate to act in that matter.”

“It may be so, Richie,” said the citizen, “and perchance it may not be so neither, for your tales are not all gospel; and, therefore, be assured I will see that it is so, ere I pay you that large sum of money. I shall give you an acknowledgment for it, and I will keep it prestable at a moment's warning. But, my good Richard Moniplies, of Castle Collop, near the West Port of Edinburgh, in the meantime I am bound to return to his Majesty on matters of weight.” So speaking, and mounting the stair to re-enter the Palace, he added, by way of summing up the whole,—“George Heriot is over old a cock to be caught with chaff.”

Richie stood petrified when he beheld him re-enter the Palace, and found himself, as he supposed, left in the lurch.—“Now, plague on ye,” he muttered, “for a cunning auld skinflint! that, because ye are an honest man yoursell, forsooth, must needs deal with all the world as if they were knaves. But deil be in me if ye beat me yet!—Gude guide us! yonder comes Laurie Linklater next, and he will be on me about the sifflication.—I winna stand him, by Saint Andrew!”

So saying, and changing the haughty stride with which he had that morning entered the precincts of the Palace, into a skulking shamble, he retreated for his wherry, which was in attendance, with speed which, to use the approved phrase on such occasions, greatly resembled a flight.