CHAPTER XLVIII.
CANON LAW
Accordingly I betook me to Bishop Kennedy, who was at Edinburgh Castle, having wholly supplanted Crichton with the king. A kindly, pawky, common-looking man he was, most like a country meal miller, and with the same way of puckering up his eyes when he spoke to you, as if he feared that you would throw dust in them.
A thing which, according to the popular mouth, it was by no means easy to do with this same Bishop Kennedy.
But I soon found that he had heard of me, and that he was no stranger to the repute of Sholto and Maud Lindsay. He was acquainted also with the young engineer-clerk--to whom, for his services in Galloway, the king had given his name and the barony of Balveny which aforetime had been little John’s. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing in the realm of Scots of which someone had not properly advised my Lord Bishop, and when he saw the king’s letter he gave me what I most desired--right good encouragement that all should be to my desire. But he did it in his own way and took much time about it.
“All laws are full of quaintness,” he said with his head to the side, and making a scratching on a piece of parchment with the side of a pen, a noise to me very disagreeable. But I minded not that, the intent and purport of his words being good. “And in none is this quaintness so patent as in canon law. For the holy Kirk is bound to dwell in some state, under Something or Somewhat as Overlord, and men are but men with neck-banes, the most part of them fearing (and most reasonably) sharp swords and the tow rope! Also it is commanded in Scripture that we should all fear and obey in all things the King’s Most Excellent Majesty. All which, together with the sign and seal upon the back of this most remarkable letter from the sometime James, Earl of Douglas, dispose me to be of good hope that your affair may find a speedy and a hoped-for termination.”
With that he went to the door and called to him one Gilbert A’Taggart, which surname, as I understand, signifies the son of a priest. But this Gilbert was some sort of nephew or relative to my Lord Bishop, though, of course, not by marriage. He was a young man, most maiden-like and comely, and he bowed to me after the Italian fashion, for his uncle had had him educated at Rome, whence he had brought back with him a knowledge of other things besides canon law.
“Seek me my great book on the law of the Church, the volume having regard to marriage,” said the bishop to young A’Taggart. “This is the case. Listen, Gilbert. You, who are well read upon the subject, fresh from the schools of Rome, can, perhaps, give us light!”
The young man bowed obsequiously, as one who would say, “What your honour pleases!”
So presently the secretary brought a great book of yellow vellum, and the bishop opened it at a place.
“‘Marriage is one of the blessed sacraments of the Church apostolic and catholic!’ Hum--hum--! That is not it. ‘In the event of a man marrying his grandmother’-- No, nor does that exactly meet the case in hand!”
“These are the facts, Gilbert”-- (Here he
[Illustration: “DEAR LADY, NO DIFFICULTY WHATSOEVER EXISTS! YOUR FIRST MARRIAGE WAS NULL--BEING, BY THE LATER BULL OF THE HOLY FATHER, HELD AS LACKING A NECESSARY AND BINDING PART OF THE CEREMONY.”]
muttered rapidly in the young man’s ear.) “Do not you agree with me?”
“I agree,” concurred the youth promptly; “so it was ever decided by our professors and teachers in the seminary. Indeed, such was the Holy Father’s own opinion. Your Eminence is perfectly right in his interpretation. A marvel!”
And while the bishop continued to mumble the Latin over and over, turning such words as struck him here and there into common speech, the secretary winked at me confidentially over his shoulder, smiling after the fashion of a choir-boy or an ill-behaved acolyte at mass.
But when his master stood erect, shutting his finger upon the place in the book, Master A’Taggart grew all at once of a solemn countenance, as if laughter were very far indeed from his thoughts. The good bishop, having thus consulted the authorities to his satisfaction, stood a full minute pursing his lips and thinking deeply. Then he delivered his verdict.
“Dear lady, no difficulty whatsoever exists! Your first marriage was null--being, by the later Bull of the Holy Father, held as lacking a necessary and binding part of the ceremony. As to your second, that also may be considered as void--by canon law, that is, having been contracted with the brother of your--no, that will not do, for, by hypothesis, you had no former husband. Let me see, let me see--canon law is a wonderful thing. We will try again. There must be a rule for that. Was James, Earl of Douglas, not your cousin-german? Ah, there is something in that!--something very grave in that! Marriage between cousins is against the clear letter of canon law. But the Bull of the Holy See, you say? Ah, I had thought of that. Nothing is more easy. His Holiness was misinformed as to the circumstances--that is all. Yes, yes--it is clear as day. Had the information been complete, the permission would never have been issued--_ergo, you have never been married at all_. Hence, being a spinster, it follows that you are at liberty to marry to-morrow if you will. And happy will the man be, my child, who takes you to his heart!”
Then he turned to the secretary, who stood demure and slim at his elbow.
“You agree with me, I think, Gilbert, do you not?”
“Your decision is a marvel of acuteness, my uncle,” said the youth. “Truly among all the doctors of Rome I never heard the like.”
The bishop took a pen and wrote rapidly, talking to himself all the while.
“Ah,” he said, in voice of pulpit prelection, “to any but myself the case would have offered difficulties insuperable. You will see the king, my child. Tell him--tell him with what ease I made all clear as day!”
“I am going at once to the camp!” I answered.
“Ah,” he said, “that is not so good! My child, be not taigled with the men-of-war. A camp is no place for a bairn like you--and, ah--betrothed for the first time to a husband!”
“But the queen is there,” I said; “she goes to the siege of Roxburgh likewise!”
“Ah,” he said drily, “then tell the king my decision by himself. Canon law is not a thing to be lightly spoken of before women. He is to remember that there is nothing so strictly forbidden by the laws of Holy Church as divorce. Yet” (here he smiled), “why seek divorce when it is so much easier to prove by canon law that any previous and undesirable marriages never existed at all! Tell the king that--pray tell the king that! Do not forget!”
And indeed, even as the bishop had expounded, so it was done--all duly and in order. I was a woman who had never been wedded. James Douglas had committed no fault. In killing William Douglas, James Stewart had but destroyed a rebel and a traitor--not treacherously slain a friend new-risen from his table. All by canon law--laid down in order and proved to the hilt from the best authorities by the excellent Bishop of Dunkeld! Everyone satisfied, and everything for the best!
No--not all. There was an old man with a slumberous fire in the eyes of him--one Malise M‘Kim by name, whom most in that gay camp had forgotten--who himself remembered no more his dead daughter (God granting it so mercifully!), but who had not forgotten the murdered master he had once served, nor yet the two young lads that had gone forth from Thrieve to their last Black Dinner in the castle of Edinburgh.
All was smooth and well-ordered in the affairs of Scotland and of the king--_but_, there was this one blear-eyed old armourer-smith to be reckoned with.