[Contents]CHAPTER LI.King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.Theevening was beautiful, when the loyal inhabitants of Aberdeen, who, by their King’s temporary residence among them, were rendered eagerly alive to every little movement regarding him, began to be aware that something was in contemplation, from observing a slender guard of spearmen marching forth from the Castle, and forming in single files at about a yard between each, so as to enclose an extended oblong space on the upper part of the street. The populace began to crowd towards the barrier of spears, in expectation of something interesting, and soon formed a dense mass everywhere behind it. The houses overlooking the spot began to be filled with guests, too, who were glad to claim acquaintance with their inmates, for the sake of procuring places at the windows, which were all of them quickly occupied, as well as every one of those antique and[357]curiously applied outer stairs and whimsical projections that characterized the city architecture of the period.Idle speculation became rapidly busy among the anxious gazers. All hoped they were to see the King, yet few thought the hope well founded; for the infirmities of age had so beset His Majesty that he was but little equal to undergo the labour of the parade attendant on his elevated rank, far less to endure public exhibitions of his person.All doubt was soon put to an end, however. A distant flourish of trumpets was heard, and martial music followed, swelling and growing upon the ear as it slowly approached from the innermost recesses of the Castle. It burst forth with shriller clangour, and the performers presently issued from the Castle, preceding a grand procession of nobles, knights, and ladies, habited in the most magnificent dresses, followed by a small body of guards, in the midst of whom there was a splendid litter, having the Royal Arms, surmounted by the Crown of Scotland, placed over its velvet canopy. It was borne by twelve esquires, in the richest Royal liveries. Murmurs of self-congratulation and joyful greeting began to run around the assemblage of people; but when the litter was set down in the middle of the open space, and Robert II., their beloved monarch, the observer of justice, whose ears were ever open to the complaints of his meanest subjects, and of whom it was even commonly said that he never spoke word that he performed not—when the good King of Scotland was assisted forth from his conveyance, deafening shouts rent the air, and were prolonged unceasingly, till the lungs of the shouters waxed weary from their exertions.The reason of the monarch thus taking the air before his people, was to give confidence to the good citizens of Aberdeen, amidst the exaggerated rumours of invasion, by showing himself so surrounded by his dauntless barons.The infirm old King, plainly habited in a purple velvet mantle, lined with fur, and purple silk nether garments, with grey woollen hose, folded amply over them, for the comfort of his frail limbs, leaning upon his son the Earl of Fife, and partly supported by his much-favoured son-in-law, the Earl of Moray, took his broad hat and plume with dignity from his head, and, showing his long snowy hair, bowed gracefully around to the people, and then began to walk slowly backwards and forwards, aiding himself partly with his son’s arm and partly with a cane, now stopping to converse familiarly with some of the ladies, or of the many nobles and knights by whom he was attended, or[358]halting occasionally, as if suddenly interested in some person or thing he noticed among the crowd, and then again resuming his walk with all the marks of being perfectly at home among his people. The show, if show it might be called, went not on silently, for ever and anon the enthusiasm of the vulgar getting the better of their awe for majesty, their voices again rose to heaven in one universal and startling peal. The gallant groups of nobles and knights, who, by their numerous attendance on the King, gave strength to the throne in the eyes of the people, were also hailed with gratifying applause; and even some of the more renowned leaders among them were singled out and lauded by the plaudits of the spectators. Among these the Douglas was most prominently distinguished, and the good John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, had his ample share.How important do the smallest, the most pitifully trifling circumstances of a King’s actions appear in the eyes of his people! All those of his nobles or knights to whom Robert chanced particularly to extend his Royal attention, were it but for a minute, were noted by the shrewd observation of the Aberdonienses as among the favoured of the Court, and many a plan was hatched by individuals among the spectators for winning their patronage. Not a movement of His Majesty, not a turn, not a look, escaped remark, and the mightiest results were augured from signs the most insignificant.It happened that Sir Patrick Hepborne was standing with his father not far from the lower extremity of the open space, when the King came up to them. He had particularly noticed both of them before; and the acclamations of the people, who knew the deeds of the elder knight, and already loved the younger for his father’s sake, showed how much their hearts beat in unison with this mark of their Sovereign’s approbation. But now the King had something more to say to Sir Patrick the elder than merely to honour him in the eyes of the people, with an appearance of familiarity. He really wanted his advice with regard to the proposed armament, and to have his private opinion of certain matters ere the council should sit. With monarchs, opportunities of private conference with those they would speak to, are difficult to be commanded without remark; their actions, and the actions of those about them, are watched too closely to permit them to be approached without begetting speculation. A politic King is therefore obliged to catch at and avail himself of moments for business which are perhaps but ill suited for it; and it is often in the most crowded assemblage that they run the smallest risk of suspicion of being engaged in[359]anything serious. Robert, leaning on his two attendants, stood unusually long in conference with the Hepbornes. The fatigue and pain which he suffered in his limbs, by being detained in the standing posture for so great a length of time, was sufficiently manifest from the uneasy lifting and shifting of his feet, though his countenance, full of fire and animation when he spoke himself, and earnestly fixed in attention to what Sir Patrick Hepborne said to him in return, had no expression in it that might have led the spectator to believe that it was at all connected with the frail and vexed limbs that supported it, but which it seemed to have altogether forgotten in the intensity of the interest of the subject under discussion.While the personages of this group were thus engaged, a considerable movement in that part of the crowd near them, followed by some struggling and a good many high words, suddenly attracted their notice. A momentary expression of anxiety, if not of fear, crossed the wan features of royalty. The Earl of Moray and the two Hepbornes showed by their motions that they were determined to secure the King’s safety at the risk of their own lives; for, with resolute countenances, they laid their hands on their swords, and stepped between him and the point from which the danger, if there was any, must come, and to which their eyes were directed. The Earl of Fife acted independently. He made a wheel, which was difficult to be explained, but halted and fronted by the side of his father again, immediately in rear of the Earl of Moray and his two companions. The crowd, within a few yards of them, still continued to heave to and fro as if in labour, and at last a bulky figure appeared in the ancient Highland costume, and worming his way forward to the line of guards, immediately endeavoured to force a passage through between two of them. The two soldiers joined their spears to each other, and each of them grasped a butt and a point the more effectually to bar his progress. Undismayed by this their resolution, he in an instant put a hand on a shoulder of each of them, and raised himself up with the determined intention of hoisting himself over the obstruction. This action of his, however, was immediately met by a simultaneous and equally decisive movement on the part of the two guards. Just as he had succeeded in throwing one leg over the impediment, they, by a well-concerted effort, lifted him vigorously up, and horsed him upon the shafts of the coupled spears, amid the laughter of the surrounding populace. After some moments of rueful balancing upon his uneasy and ticklish saddle, during which he seemed to hang in dreadful doubt on which side he[360]was to fall, his large body at last overbalanced itself, and he rolled inwards towards the feet of the King, and those who were standing with him. The whole was the work of a moment.A loud murmur, mingled with the shrieks of “Treason—traitorie!” arose among the anxious people; and all bodies, heads, and eyes were bent towards the scene of action, in dread lest something tragical should follow. The two guards pressed forward to transfix the unceremonious intruder with their spears as he lay on the ground.“Back,” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger, bestriding his body like a Colossus; “back, I say, this man must not be hurt; he means no evil; I will answer for him with my life.”“Secure him at least, Sir Patrick,” cried the Earl of Fife.“My Lord, I will be his security,” replied Sir Patrick. “He is a good and loyal subject, and nothing need be apprehended from him.”“Is he not mad?” demanded Fife, with some anxiety. “Methinks his eye rolls somewhat wildly. By the mass, I like not his look overmuch.”“Be assured, my Lord, I well know the man,” replied Sir Patrick, stooping to assist him to rise.“Out fie!” cried Duncan MacErchar, who now stood before them, smoothing down his quelt, and blowing the dust with great care off a new suit of coarse home-spun tartan, that, with his rough raw-hide sandals, suited but ill with the splendid sword and baldrick that hung on him, and the richly-jewelled brooch that fastened his plaid; “Och, oich! Sir Patrick—ou ay, ou ay—troth, she be’s right glad to see her honour again. Uve, uve, ye loons,” continued he, addressing the two soldiers who had made so powerful a resistance to his entrance, “an she had kend that ye were going to give her sike an ill-faur’d ride as yon, and sike an ugly fling at the end o’t, by St. Giles, but she would have crackit yere filthy crowns one again others like two rotten eggs. But, oich, is she weel?” cried he, again turning eagerly towards Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger. “Troth she did hear of the gatherin’, and so she e’en came down here to see if King Roberts was for the fechts. And oich, she was glad to see her honours again, and the ould mans Sir Patricks yonder; but, uve, uve, she has had a sore tuilzie to get at her.”“I rejoice to see thee, Master MacErchar,” said Hepborne, hastily waving him away, under the strong impression of the necessity of ridding the King’s presence of him, without a moment’s delay; “but the present time and place ill befitteth for[361]such recognition. Retire then, I do beseech thee, and seek me on some other occasion. Thou mayest ask at the Castle gate for mine esquire Mortimer Sang, whom thou knowest; he will bring thee to me at such time as may be convenient for me.”“Uve, uve!” cried Duncan MacErchar, the warm sparkle gradually forsaking his eye, as Hepborne spoke, leaving him much abashed with a reception, for the coldness of which he had been little prepared; “oit, oit—ou ay—surely—troth she’ll do that. She’s not going to plague her honour’s honour a moment. She’s yede her ways hame again to her nain glen as fast as her legs can carry her. That she will—surely, surely. But, by the blessed mass, had she but kend that she sould be any hinderance to her honour, she sould not have yalt so far to fartigue her with a sight of her. But she did bid her be sure to claim ken o’ her in ony place, and before ony body.”“Yea, I did so,” replied Hepborne, vexed to see that he still remained in the King’s presence, and rather provoked at his boldness, not being aware that poor Duncan was perfectly ignorant that one of the four persons before him was His Majesty—“I did indeed bid thee do so; but verily I looked not for thine audacious approach before such eyes.”“And fat was Duncan MacErchar to mind fat other lord-bodies might be standing by, when her father, the noble Sir Patrick Hepborne, and at whose back she used to fight, was before her eyne?” replied the Highlander, a little out of temper. “Uve, uve!—surely, surely, Sir Patrick Hepborne, that did lead her on to the fechts, is mokell more to her than ony lord o’ them a’—ay, than King Robert himsel, gin she were here, as she’s in yon braw box yonder. Sure she did ken hersel the bonny Earl John Dunbar there, right brave and worthy knight; and feggs she kens that she’s not the noblemans that will scorn a poor man. And as for that pretty gentleman, and that douce discreet auld carle in the purple silken hauselines and the grey hose, they may be as good as him peraunter, but surely, surely, they cannot be better. Na, troth, but they must be mokell waur than him, an they would be for clapping their hands on the mouth o’ a poor man’s gratitudes. But surely, surely,” added he, “he be sorry sorry to have angered her honours.”“Thou dost altogether mistake in this matter, Duncan,” said Sir Patrick the younger, much distressed to perceive the mutual misunderstanding that existed—“thou dost altogether mistake; I am not offended.”“Hoot, toot—ay, ay—ou ay—sure,” replied Duncan, with a whimsical look of good-natured sarcasm in his countenance.[362]“Troth, she doth see that she’s not, neither the one nor the others, the same mans here, on the crowns o’ the causey o’ Aberdeen, that she was in the glen o’ the Dee yonder. Hup up!—Troth, she did take a grup of her hands yonder, ay, and she did moreover drink out of the same cup with her, and a proud mans she did make Duncan MacErchar hersels. But, uve, uve!—she’s with her neighbour lords and knights noo, and sike a ragged goat o’ the hills as her nainsel is no to be noticed amang so many braw frisking sheep, with fine woo on their backs. But sith that she did make Duncan proud, troth she’ll show her pride. Fient a bit o’ her will force her nainsel to the kens o’ mortal mans; so here’s her bonny sword and braw baudrick,” continued he, as he tried to take them off, “here’s the sword and the baudrick she bore so lightly, but the which hae grown of the sudden over heavy for her backs. But the poor Sir Page’s bonny brooch—oh ay! she’ll keep it right sickerly, as it was kindly and gratefully gi’en.”“Nay, Duncan, keep the sword and baldrick, I beseech thee, and seek for mine esquire to-night,” said Hepborne, much annoyed.“Hoof, uve, no,” replied the Highlander testily. “Sith she careth not to notice poor Duncan MacErchar before her father the ould mans (the Virgin’s blessing be upon her!) and the good Earl of Moray, and that pretty gentlemans, and yon discreet, well-natured, laughing auld carle in the grey hose and the purple hauselines yonder, troth she’ll no seek to trouble her esquire. So here’s her sword and baudrick, and she’s yede her ways hame again.”“Nay, Duncan, I’ll none of them,” cried Hepborne, putting them back with the back of his hand. “Thou art strangely mistaken here. Trust me, mine is not the heart that can use an old friend, yea, and above all, one that did save my very life, with the coldness that thou dost fancy. But thou art now in the presence of——.” He stopped, and would have added “of the King;” but at that moment His Majesty, who had richly enjoyed the scene as far as it had already gone, gave him such a look as at once showed him it was not his pleasure that it should be so speedily terminated. He went on then differently. “But thou art now in the presence of certain lords, with whom I am deeply engaged in discussing divers matters of most grave and weighty import, and deeply affecting the wellbeing of our country and the glory of our King; and of a truth I well know that thou dost love both over much to suffer thine own feelings to let, hinder, or do them prejudice in the smallest jot. Thou[363]canst not take offence that I did seem to neglect thee for matters of such moment. By the honour of a knight I will take thee, brave preserver of my life, by the hand,” continued he, seizing MacErchar with great cordiality, “I will take thy hand, I say, in the presence of the whole world, yea, an it were in the presence of King Robert himself. And as for drinking from the same cup with thee, what, have I not drank with thee of the sacred cup of thy hospitality, and thinkest thou I would refuse to drink with thee again? By St. Andrew, though rarely given to vinolence, I would rather swill gallons with thee than that thou shouldst deem me deficient in the smallest hair’s-breadth of gratitude to thee for the potent service thou didst render me at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon. Put on thy baldrick, man, yea, and the sword also, and think not for a moment that I could have been so base as to slight thee.”“Oich, oich!—oot, oot!—uve, uve!—fool she was—fool she was, surely,” cried Duncan, at once completely subdued, and very much put out of countenance by these unequivocal expressions of Hepborne’s honest and sincere regard for him. “Oit, oit! troth she was foolish, foolish; na, she’ll keep the sword, ay, and the bonny baudrick—ay, ay, ou ay, she’ll keep them noo till she dies. Uve, uve, she’s sore foolish, sore foolish. Oich, oich, will her honour Sir Patrick pardons her? Troth, she’s sore ashamed.”“Pardon thee,” said Sir Patrick the younger, again shaking MacErchar heartily by the hand—“pardon thee, saidst thou? By St. Baldrid, but I do like thee the better, friend Duncan, for the proper pride and feeling thou didst show. Thy pride is the pride of an honest heart, and had I, in good verity, been the very paltry and ungenerous knight that appearances did at first lead thee to imagine me to be, by the Rood, but I should have right well merited thy sovereign despisal.”“Oich, oich,” said Duncan, his eyes running over with the stream of kindly affections that now burst from his heart, and quite confused by his powerful emotions, “she’s over goods—she’s over foolish—out fie, surely, surely, she’s over goods. God bless her honour. But troth, she’ll no be tarrying langer noo to disturb her honour’s honour more at this times; and, ou ay, she’ll come surely to good Squire Mortimer’s at night, to see if her honour’s leisure may serve for seeing her.”“Nay, nay,” said Hepborne, after consulting the King’s countenance by a glance, to gather his pleasure, “thou shalt not go now. We had nearly done with our parlance, and the renewal of it at this time mattereth not a jot; so sith that thou[364]art here, my brave defender, perdie, thou shalt stay until I introduce thee to my father. Father,” continued he, turning to Sir Patrick the elder, “this is a brave soldier who hath fought for his King in many a stark stoure with thee. I do beseech thee to permit him opportunity to speak to thee, and peraunter thou wilt all the more readily do so, when I tell thee that he did save my life from the murderous blows of an assassin, the which had well nigh amortised me, by despatching the foul traitor with a single thrust of his spear.”“To hear that thou hast saved the life of my beloved son,” replied Sir Patrick, advancing and taking MacErchar by the hand, “were in itself enow to coart me to recognise thee as my benefactor, though I had never seen thee before. But well do I remember thy brave deeds, my worthy fellow-soldier.”“Oich, oich,” cried Duncan, dropping on his knees, and embracing those of Sir Patrick, but altogether unable to express his feelings, “oich, oich—surely, surely—fat can she say?—foolish, foolish—hoot, toot—ower big rewards for her—ooch—ower good, surely—hoit, oit, Duncan will die hersel for the good Sir Patrick—ay, or for ony flesh o’ hers—och-hone—uve, uve, she cannot speak.”“Yet did I never hear mortal tongue more eloquent,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, “sith that its very want of utterance doth show forth the honest and kindly metal of the heart. But by St. Andrew, I do know the heart to be bold as well as kind, seeing I forget not the actions of this heroic mountaineer in the field. Where all are brave, verily ’tis not an easy task to gain an overtopping height of glory; and yet less is it easy in the lower ranks of war, where the individuals stand thicker. Natheless, and maugre all these obstacles to fame, did this man’s deeds in battle so tower above all others, that, humble as he was, I often noted them—yea, and he should have been rewarded too, had I not weaned that he was killed in doing the very feat for the which I would have done him instant and signal honour. What came of thee,” continued Sir Patrick, addressing MacErchar, who had by this time risen to his legs, “what came of thee, my valiant mountaineer, after thou didst so gallantly save those engineer-men and their engine, when basely abandoned by the French auxiliaries, at the siege of Roxburgh, whose retreat thou didst cover against a host of the enemy by thy single targe and sword, until others were shamed into their duty by thy glorious ensample?”“Oich, oich—he, he, he!—a bonny tuilzie that,” cried Duncan, laughing heartily, “a bonny tuilzie; troth, she was but[365]roughly handled yon time. Of a truth, noble Sir Patrick, she did get sike an ill-favoured clewer from a chield with a mokell mace, that she was laid sprawling on the plain; and syne, poo! out ower her body did the English loons come flying after our men, in sike wicked fashion, that the very breath was trampled out o’ her bodys.”“But how didst thou ’scape with life after all?” demanded Sir Patrick the elder.“Troth, after they had all trotted over her, the wind just came back again into her bodys,” replied MacErchar; “and so she got up till her legs, and shook hersel, and scratched her lugs, that were singing as loud as twenty throstle-birds; when back came the villains, running like furies before our men, and whirled her away wi’ them, or ever she kend, into the town. There she lay prisoners for mony a days, till she broke their jails, and made her way to the Highlands. But troth, she took her spulzie wi’ her, for she had hidden that afore, and kend whare to find it again.”“Of a truth, the deed was one of the most desperate I did ever behold,” said Sir Patrick the elder, recurring to MacErchar’s action to which he had alluded. “He planted himself against a host, and seemed doomed to certain destruction. ’Tis a marvel that he is alive.”Whilst SirPatrickHepborne and the Earl of Moray, who also remembered him, were holding some further conference with MacErchar, Sir Patrick the younger approached the King, and privately begged a boon of his Majesty, the particulars of which he specified to him.“’Tis granted, Sir Patrick,” whispered the King; “but let it be asked of us aloud, that such part of the populace who may have been listening to what hath passed, may have their minds filled also with the wholesome ensample of their King rewarding virtue.”In obedience to Robert’s command, Hepborne knelt before him, and addressed him in a loud and distinct voice.“My liege, I do humbly beg a boon at thy Royal hands.”“Speak forth thy volunde, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” replied the King; “there are few names in our kingdom the which may call for more ready attention from King Robert than that the which hath ever been heard shouted in the front of his armies, and in the midst of the ranks of his discomfited enemies.”“The boon I do earnestly crave of your Majesty is, that you will be graciously pleased to bestow upon this gallant soldier, Duncan MacErchar, a commission in thy Royal Guard.”[366]“He hath it,” replied the King, “he hath it cheerfully at thy request, Sir Patrick; and by the faith of a King, it doth right well pleasure us thus to exercise the happiest part of our Royal power—I do mean that of rewarding loyal bravery such as this man hath so proved himself to possess; yea, and no time so fitting, methinks, for the exercise of this power; for when war is beginning, we should show our people that we do know to reward those who do well and truly serve us.”“Kneel down, kneel down, I say, before Robert King of Scotland,” said the Earl of Moray, slapping the astonished MacErchar upon the back, as he stood bereft of all sensation on discovering in whose presence he had been standing and prating so much. He obeyed mechanically, whilst a shout arose from that part of the crowd who had heard all that had passed, and was caught up gradually by those farther off, who cheered upon trust long ere the story could spread among them. The King moved away; but still Duncan remained petrified upon his knees, with his hands clasped, his eyes thrown up, and his mouth open, until Sir Patrick the younger showed himself his best friend by awaking him from his trance and leading him away, amidst the ceaseless shouts of the mob.
[Contents]CHAPTER LI.King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.Theevening was beautiful, when the loyal inhabitants of Aberdeen, who, by their King’s temporary residence among them, were rendered eagerly alive to every little movement regarding him, began to be aware that something was in contemplation, from observing a slender guard of spearmen marching forth from the Castle, and forming in single files at about a yard between each, so as to enclose an extended oblong space on the upper part of the street. The populace began to crowd towards the barrier of spears, in expectation of something interesting, and soon formed a dense mass everywhere behind it. The houses overlooking the spot began to be filled with guests, too, who were glad to claim acquaintance with their inmates, for the sake of procuring places at the windows, which were all of them quickly occupied, as well as every one of those antique and[357]curiously applied outer stairs and whimsical projections that characterized the city architecture of the period.Idle speculation became rapidly busy among the anxious gazers. All hoped they were to see the King, yet few thought the hope well founded; for the infirmities of age had so beset His Majesty that he was but little equal to undergo the labour of the parade attendant on his elevated rank, far less to endure public exhibitions of his person.All doubt was soon put to an end, however. A distant flourish of trumpets was heard, and martial music followed, swelling and growing upon the ear as it slowly approached from the innermost recesses of the Castle. It burst forth with shriller clangour, and the performers presently issued from the Castle, preceding a grand procession of nobles, knights, and ladies, habited in the most magnificent dresses, followed by a small body of guards, in the midst of whom there was a splendid litter, having the Royal Arms, surmounted by the Crown of Scotland, placed over its velvet canopy. It was borne by twelve esquires, in the richest Royal liveries. Murmurs of self-congratulation and joyful greeting began to run around the assemblage of people; but when the litter was set down in the middle of the open space, and Robert II., their beloved monarch, the observer of justice, whose ears were ever open to the complaints of his meanest subjects, and of whom it was even commonly said that he never spoke word that he performed not—when the good King of Scotland was assisted forth from his conveyance, deafening shouts rent the air, and were prolonged unceasingly, till the lungs of the shouters waxed weary from their exertions.The reason of the monarch thus taking the air before his people, was to give confidence to the good citizens of Aberdeen, amidst the exaggerated rumours of invasion, by showing himself so surrounded by his dauntless barons.The infirm old King, plainly habited in a purple velvet mantle, lined with fur, and purple silk nether garments, with grey woollen hose, folded amply over them, for the comfort of his frail limbs, leaning upon his son the Earl of Fife, and partly supported by his much-favoured son-in-law, the Earl of Moray, took his broad hat and plume with dignity from his head, and, showing his long snowy hair, bowed gracefully around to the people, and then began to walk slowly backwards and forwards, aiding himself partly with his son’s arm and partly with a cane, now stopping to converse familiarly with some of the ladies, or of the many nobles and knights by whom he was attended, or[358]halting occasionally, as if suddenly interested in some person or thing he noticed among the crowd, and then again resuming his walk with all the marks of being perfectly at home among his people. The show, if show it might be called, went not on silently, for ever and anon the enthusiasm of the vulgar getting the better of their awe for majesty, their voices again rose to heaven in one universal and startling peal. The gallant groups of nobles and knights, who, by their numerous attendance on the King, gave strength to the throne in the eyes of the people, were also hailed with gratifying applause; and even some of the more renowned leaders among them were singled out and lauded by the plaudits of the spectators. Among these the Douglas was most prominently distinguished, and the good John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, had his ample share.How important do the smallest, the most pitifully trifling circumstances of a King’s actions appear in the eyes of his people! All those of his nobles or knights to whom Robert chanced particularly to extend his Royal attention, were it but for a minute, were noted by the shrewd observation of the Aberdonienses as among the favoured of the Court, and many a plan was hatched by individuals among the spectators for winning their patronage. Not a movement of His Majesty, not a turn, not a look, escaped remark, and the mightiest results were augured from signs the most insignificant.It happened that Sir Patrick Hepborne was standing with his father not far from the lower extremity of the open space, when the King came up to them. He had particularly noticed both of them before; and the acclamations of the people, who knew the deeds of the elder knight, and already loved the younger for his father’s sake, showed how much their hearts beat in unison with this mark of their Sovereign’s approbation. But now the King had something more to say to Sir Patrick the elder than merely to honour him in the eyes of the people, with an appearance of familiarity. He really wanted his advice with regard to the proposed armament, and to have his private opinion of certain matters ere the council should sit. With monarchs, opportunities of private conference with those they would speak to, are difficult to be commanded without remark; their actions, and the actions of those about them, are watched too closely to permit them to be approached without begetting speculation. A politic King is therefore obliged to catch at and avail himself of moments for business which are perhaps but ill suited for it; and it is often in the most crowded assemblage that they run the smallest risk of suspicion of being engaged in[359]anything serious. Robert, leaning on his two attendants, stood unusually long in conference with the Hepbornes. The fatigue and pain which he suffered in his limbs, by being detained in the standing posture for so great a length of time, was sufficiently manifest from the uneasy lifting and shifting of his feet, though his countenance, full of fire and animation when he spoke himself, and earnestly fixed in attention to what Sir Patrick Hepborne said to him in return, had no expression in it that might have led the spectator to believe that it was at all connected with the frail and vexed limbs that supported it, but which it seemed to have altogether forgotten in the intensity of the interest of the subject under discussion.While the personages of this group were thus engaged, a considerable movement in that part of the crowd near them, followed by some struggling and a good many high words, suddenly attracted their notice. A momentary expression of anxiety, if not of fear, crossed the wan features of royalty. The Earl of Moray and the two Hepbornes showed by their motions that they were determined to secure the King’s safety at the risk of their own lives; for, with resolute countenances, they laid their hands on their swords, and stepped between him and the point from which the danger, if there was any, must come, and to which their eyes were directed. The Earl of Fife acted independently. He made a wheel, which was difficult to be explained, but halted and fronted by the side of his father again, immediately in rear of the Earl of Moray and his two companions. The crowd, within a few yards of them, still continued to heave to and fro as if in labour, and at last a bulky figure appeared in the ancient Highland costume, and worming his way forward to the line of guards, immediately endeavoured to force a passage through between two of them. The two soldiers joined their spears to each other, and each of them grasped a butt and a point the more effectually to bar his progress. Undismayed by this their resolution, he in an instant put a hand on a shoulder of each of them, and raised himself up with the determined intention of hoisting himself over the obstruction. This action of his, however, was immediately met by a simultaneous and equally decisive movement on the part of the two guards. Just as he had succeeded in throwing one leg over the impediment, they, by a well-concerted effort, lifted him vigorously up, and horsed him upon the shafts of the coupled spears, amid the laughter of the surrounding populace. After some moments of rueful balancing upon his uneasy and ticklish saddle, during which he seemed to hang in dreadful doubt on which side he[360]was to fall, his large body at last overbalanced itself, and he rolled inwards towards the feet of the King, and those who were standing with him. The whole was the work of a moment.A loud murmur, mingled with the shrieks of “Treason—traitorie!” arose among the anxious people; and all bodies, heads, and eyes were bent towards the scene of action, in dread lest something tragical should follow. The two guards pressed forward to transfix the unceremonious intruder with their spears as he lay on the ground.“Back,” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger, bestriding his body like a Colossus; “back, I say, this man must not be hurt; he means no evil; I will answer for him with my life.”“Secure him at least, Sir Patrick,” cried the Earl of Fife.“My Lord, I will be his security,” replied Sir Patrick. “He is a good and loyal subject, and nothing need be apprehended from him.”“Is he not mad?” demanded Fife, with some anxiety. “Methinks his eye rolls somewhat wildly. By the mass, I like not his look overmuch.”“Be assured, my Lord, I well know the man,” replied Sir Patrick, stooping to assist him to rise.“Out fie!” cried Duncan MacErchar, who now stood before them, smoothing down his quelt, and blowing the dust with great care off a new suit of coarse home-spun tartan, that, with his rough raw-hide sandals, suited but ill with the splendid sword and baldrick that hung on him, and the richly-jewelled brooch that fastened his plaid; “Och, oich! Sir Patrick—ou ay, ou ay—troth, she be’s right glad to see her honour again. Uve, uve, ye loons,” continued he, addressing the two soldiers who had made so powerful a resistance to his entrance, “an she had kend that ye were going to give her sike an ill-faur’d ride as yon, and sike an ugly fling at the end o’t, by St. Giles, but she would have crackit yere filthy crowns one again others like two rotten eggs. But, oich, is she weel?” cried he, again turning eagerly towards Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger. “Troth she did hear of the gatherin’, and so she e’en came down here to see if King Roberts was for the fechts. And oich, she was glad to see her honours again, and the ould mans Sir Patricks yonder; but, uve, uve, she has had a sore tuilzie to get at her.”“I rejoice to see thee, Master MacErchar,” said Hepborne, hastily waving him away, under the strong impression of the necessity of ridding the King’s presence of him, without a moment’s delay; “but the present time and place ill befitteth for[361]such recognition. Retire then, I do beseech thee, and seek me on some other occasion. Thou mayest ask at the Castle gate for mine esquire Mortimer Sang, whom thou knowest; he will bring thee to me at such time as may be convenient for me.”“Uve, uve!” cried Duncan MacErchar, the warm sparkle gradually forsaking his eye, as Hepborne spoke, leaving him much abashed with a reception, for the coldness of which he had been little prepared; “oit, oit—ou ay—surely—troth she’ll do that. She’s not going to plague her honour’s honour a moment. She’s yede her ways hame again to her nain glen as fast as her legs can carry her. That she will—surely, surely. But, by the blessed mass, had she but kend that she sould be any hinderance to her honour, she sould not have yalt so far to fartigue her with a sight of her. But she did bid her be sure to claim ken o’ her in ony place, and before ony body.”“Yea, I did so,” replied Hepborne, vexed to see that he still remained in the King’s presence, and rather provoked at his boldness, not being aware that poor Duncan was perfectly ignorant that one of the four persons before him was His Majesty—“I did indeed bid thee do so; but verily I looked not for thine audacious approach before such eyes.”“And fat was Duncan MacErchar to mind fat other lord-bodies might be standing by, when her father, the noble Sir Patrick Hepborne, and at whose back she used to fight, was before her eyne?” replied the Highlander, a little out of temper. “Uve, uve!—surely, surely, Sir Patrick Hepborne, that did lead her on to the fechts, is mokell more to her than ony lord o’ them a’—ay, than King Robert himsel, gin she were here, as she’s in yon braw box yonder. Sure she did ken hersel the bonny Earl John Dunbar there, right brave and worthy knight; and feggs she kens that she’s not the noblemans that will scorn a poor man. And as for that pretty gentleman, and that douce discreet auld carle in the purple silken hauselines and the grey hose, they may be as good as him peraunter, but surely, surely, they cannot be better. Na, troth, but they must be mokell waur than him, an they would be for clapping their hands on the mouth o’ a poor man’s gratitudes. But surely, surely,” added he, “he be sorry sorry to have angered her honours.”“Thou dost altogether mistake in this matter, Duncan,” said Sir Patrick the younger, much distressed to perceive the mutual misunderstanding that existed—“thou dost altogether mistake; I am not offended.”“Hoot, toot—ay, ay—ou ay—sure,” replied Duncan, with a whimsical look of good-natured sarcasm in his countenance.[362]“Troth, she doth see that she’s not, neither the one nor the others, the same mans here, on the crowns o’ the causey o’ Aberdeen, that she was in the glen o’ the Dee yonder. Hup up!—Troth, she did take a grup of her hands yonder, ay, and she did moreover drink out of the same cup with her, and a proud mans she did make Duncan MacErchar hersels. But, uve, uve!—she’s with her neighbour lords and knights noo, and sike a ragged goat o’ the hills as her nainsel is no to be noticed amang so many braw frisking sheep, with fine woo on their backs. But sith that she did make Duncan proud, troth she’ll show her pride. Fient a bit o’ her will force her nainsel to the kens o’ mortal mans; so here’s her bonny sword and braw baudrick,” continued he, as he tried to take them off, “here’s the sword and the baudrick she bore so lightly, but the which hae grown of the sudden over heavy for her backs. But the poor Sir Page’s bonny brooch—oh ay! she’ll keep it right sickerly, as it was kindly and gratefully gi’en.”“Nay, Duncan, keep the sword and baldrick, I beseech thee, and seek for mine esquire to-night,” said Hepborne, much annoyed.“Hoof, uve, no,” replied the Highlander testily. “Sith she careth not to notice poor Duncan MacErchar before her father the ould mans (the Virgin’s blessing be upon her!) and the good Earl of Moray, and that pretty gentlemans, and yon discreet, well-natured, laughing auld carle in the grey hose and the purple hauselines yonder, troth she’ll no seek to trouble her esquire. So here’s her sword and baudrick, and she’s yede her ways hame again.”“Nay, Duncan, I’ll none of them,” cried Hepborne, putting them back with the back of his hand. “Thou art strangely mistaken here. Trust me, mine is not the heart that can use an old friend, yea, and above all, one that did save my very life, with the coldness that thou dost fancy. But thou art now in the presence of——.” He stopped, and would have added “of the King;” but at that moment His Majesty, who had richly enjoyed the scene as far as it had already gone, gave him such a look as at once showed him it was not his pleasure that it should be so speedily terminated. He went on then differently. “But thou art now in the presence of certain lords, with whom I am deeply engaged in discussing divers matters of most grave and weighty import, and deeply affecting the wellbeing of our country and the glory of our King; and of a truth I well know that thou dost love both over much to suffer thine own feelings to let, hinder, or do them prejudice in the smallest jot. Thou[363]canst not take offence that I did seem to neglect thee for matters of such moment. By the honour of a knight I will take thee, brave preserver of my life, by the hand,” continued he, seizing MacErchar with great cordiality, “I will take thy hand, I say, in the presence of the whole world, yea, an it were in the presence of King Robert himself. And as for drinking from the same cup with thee, what, have I not drank with thee of the sacred cup of thy hospitality, and thinkest thou I would refuse to drink with thee again? By St. Andrew, though rarely given to vinolence, I would rather swill gallons with thee than that thou shouldst deem me deficient in the smallest hair’s-breadth of gratitude to thee for the potent service thou didst render me at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon. Put on thy baldrick, man, yea, and the sword also, and think not for a moment that I could have been so base as to slight thee.”“Oich, oich!—oot, oot!—uve, uve!—fool she was—fool she was, surely,” cried Duncan, at once completely subdued, and very much put out of countenance by these unequivocal expressions of Hepborne’s honest and sincere regard for him. “Oit, oit! troth she was foolish, foolish; na, she’ll keep the sword, ay, and the bonny baudrick—ay, ay, ou ay, she’ll keep them noo till she dies. Uve, uve, she’s sore foolish, sore foolish. Oich, oich, will her honour Sir Patrick pardons her? Troth, she’s sore ashamed.”“Pardon thee,” said Sir Patrick the younger, again shaking MacErchar heartily by the hand—“pardon thee, saidst thou? By St. Baldrid, but I do like thee the better, friend Duncan, for the proper pride and feeling thou didst show. Thy pride is the pride of an honest heart, and had I, in good verity, been the very paltry and ungenerous knight that appearances did at first lead thee to imagine me to be, by the Rood, but I should have right well merited thy sovereign despisal.”“Oich, oich,” said Duncan, his eyes running over with the stream of kindly affections that now burst from his heart, and quite confused by his powerful emotions, “she’s over goods—she’s over foolish—out fie, surely, surely, she’s over goods. God bless her honour. But troth, she’ll no be tarrying langer noo to disturb her honour’s honour more at this times; and, ou ay, she’ll come surely to good Squire Mortimer’s at night, to see if her honour’s leisure may serve for seeing her.”“Nay, nay,” said Hepborne, after consulting the King’s countenance by a glance, to gather his pleasure, “thou shalt not go now. We had nearly done with our parlance, and the renewal of it at this time mattereth not a jot; so sith that thou[364]art here, my brave defender, perdie, thou shalt stay until I introduce thee to my father. Father,” continued he, turning to Sir Patrick the elder, “this is a brave soldier who hath fought for his King in many a stark stoure with thee. I do beseech thee to permit him opportunity to speak to thee, and peraunter thou wilt all the more readily do so, when I tell thee that he did save my life from the murderous blows of an assassin, the which had well nigh amortised me, by despatching the foul traitor with a single thrust of his spear.”“To hear that thou hast saved the life of my beloved son,” replied Sir Patrick, advancing and taking MacErchar by the hand, “were in itself enow to coart me to recognise thee as my benefactor, though I had never seen thee before. But well do I remember thy brave deeds, my worthy fellow-soldier.”“Oich, oich,” cried Duncan, dropping on his knees, and embracing those of Sir Patrick, but altogether unable to express his feelings, “oich, oich—surely, surely—fat can she say?—foolish, foolish—hoot, toot—ower big rewards for her—ooch—ower good, surely—hoit, oit, Duncan will die hersel for the good Sir Patrick—ay, or for ony flesh o’ hers—och-hone—uve, uve, she cannot speak.”“Yet did I never hear mortal tongue more eloquent,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, “sith that its very want of utterance doth show forth the honest and kindly metal of the heart. But by St. Andrew, I do know the heart to be bold as well as kind, seeing I forget not the actions of this heroic mountaineer in the field. Where all are brave, verily ’tis not an easy task to gain an overtopping height of glory; and yet less is it easy in the lower ranks of war, where the individuals stand thicker. Natheless, and maugre all these obstacles to fame, did this man’s deeds in battle so tower above all others, that, humble as he was, I often noted them—yea, and he should have been rewarded too, had I not weaned that he was killed in doing the very feat for the which I would have done him instant and signal honour. What came of thee,” continued Sir Patrick, addressing MacErchar, who had by this time risen to his legs, “what came of thee, my valiant mountaineer, after thou didst so gallantly save those engineer-men and their engine, when basely abandoned by the French auxiliaries, at the siege of Roxburgh, whose retreat thou didst cover against a host of the enemy by thy single targe and sword, until others were shamed into their duty by thy glorious ensample?”“Oich, oich—he, he, he!—a bonny tuilzie that,” cried Duncan, laughing heartily, “a bonny tuilzie; troth, she was but[365]roughly handled yon time. Of a truth, noble Sir Patrick, she did get sike an ill-favoured clewer from a chield with a mokell mace, that she was laid sprawling on the plain; and syne, poo! out ower her body did the English loons come flying after our men, in sike wicked fashion, that the very breath was trampled out o’ her bodys.”“But how didst thou ’scape with life after all?” demanded Sir Patrick the elder.“Troth, after they had all trotted over her, the wind just came back again into her bodys,” replied MacErchar; “and so she got up till her legs, and shook hersel, and scratched her lugs, that were singing as loud as twenty throstle-birds; when back came the villains, running like furies before our men, and whirled her away wi’ them, or ever she kend, into the town. There she lay prisoners for mony a days, till she broke their jails, and made her way to the Highlands. But troth, she took her spulzie wi’ her, for she had hidden that afore, and kend whare to find it again.”“Of a truth, the deed was one of the most desperate I did ever behold,” said Sir Patrick the elder, recurring to MacErchar’s action to which he had alluded. “He planted himself against a host, and seemed doomed to certain destruction. ’Tis a marvel that he is alive.”Whilst SirPatrickHepborne and the Earl of Moray, who also remembered him, were holding some further conference with MacErchar, Sir Patrick the younger approached the King, and privately begged a boon of his Majesty, the particulars of which he specified to him.“’Tis granted, Sir Patrick,” whispered the King; “but let it be asked of us aloud, that such part of the populace who may have been listening to what hath passed, may have their minds filled also with the wholesome ensample of their King rewarding virtue.”In obedience to Robert’s command, Hepborne knelt before him, and addressed him in a loud and distinct voice.“My liege, I do humbly beg a boon at thy Royal hands.”“Speak forth thy volunde, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” replied the King; “there are few names in our kingdom the which may call for more ready attention from King Robert than that the which hath ever been heard shouted in the front of his armies, and in the midst of the ranks of his discomfited enemies.”“The boon I do earnestly crave of your Majesty is, that you will be graciously pleased to bestow upon this gallant soldier, Duncan MacErchar, a commission in thy Royal Guard.”[366]“He hath it,” replied the King, “he hath it cheerfully at thy request, Sir Patrick; and by the faith of a King, it doth right well pleasure us thus to exercise the happiest part of our Royal power—I do mean that of rewarding loyal bravery such as this man hath so proved himself to possess; yea, and no time so fitting, methinks, for the exercise of this power; for when war is beginning, we should show our people that we do know to reward those who do well and truly serve us.”“Kneel down, kneel down, I say, before Robert King of Scotland,” said the Earl of Moray, slapping the astonished MacErchar upon the back, as he stood bereft of all sensation on discovering in whose presence he had been standing and prating so much. He obeyed mechanically, whilst a shout arose from that part of the crowd who had heard all that had passed, and was caught up gradually by those farther off, who cheered upon trust long ere the story could spread among them. The King moved away; but still Duncan remained petrified upon his knees, with his hands clasped, his eyes thrown up, and his mouth open, until Sir Patrick the younger showed himself his best friend by awaking him from his trance and leading him away, amidst the ceaseless shouts of the mob.
CHAPTER LI.King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.
King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.
King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.
Theevening was beautiful, when the loyal inhabitants of Aberdeen, who, by their King’s temporary residence among them, were rendered eagerly alive to every little movement regarding him, began to be aware that something was in contemplation, from observing a slender guard of spearmen marching forth from the Castle, and forming in single files at about a yard between each, so as to enclose an extended oblong space on the upper part of the street. The populace began to crowd towards the barrier of spears, in expectation of something interesting, and soon formed a dense mass everywhere behind it. The houses overlooking the spot began to be filled with guests, too, who were glad to claim acquaintance with their inmates, for the sake of procuring places at the windows, which were all of them quickly occupied, as well as every one of those antique and[357]curiously applied outer stairs and whimsical projections that characterized the city architecture of the period.Idle speculation became rapidly busy among the anxious gazers. All hoped they were to see the King, yet few thought the hope well founded; for the infirmities of age had so beset His Majesty that he was but little equal to undergo the labour of the parade attendant on his elevated rank, far less to endure public exhibitions of his person.All doubt was soon put to an end, however. A distant flourish of trumpets was heard, and martial music followed, swelling and growing upon the ear as it slowly approached from the innermost recesses of the Castle. It burst forth with shriller clangour, and the performers presently issued from the Castle, preceding a grand procession of nobles, knights, and ladies, habited in the most magnificent dresses, followed by a small body of guards, in the midst of whom there was a splendid litter, having the Royal Arms, surmounted by the Crown of Scotland, placed over its velvet canopy. It was borne by twelve esquires, in the richest Royal liveries. Murmurs of self-congratulation and joyful greeting began to run around the assemblage of people; but when the litter was set down in the middle of the open space, and Robert II., their beloved monarch, the observer of justice, whose ears were ever open to the complaints of his meanest subjects, and of whom it was even commonly said that he never spoke word that he performed not—when the good King of Scotland was assisted forth from his conveyance, deafening shouts rent the air, and were prolonged unceasingly, till the lungs of the shouters waxed weary from their exertions.The reason of the monarch thus taking the air before his people, was to give confidence to the good citizens of Aberdeen, amidst the exaggerated rumours of invasion, by showing himself so surrounded by his dauntless barons.The infirm old King, plainly habited in a purple velvet mantle, lined with fur, and purple silk nether garments, with grey woollen hose, folded amply over them, for the comfort of his frail limbs, leaning upon his son the Earl of Fife, and partly supported by his much-favoured son-in-law, the Earl of Moray, took his broad hat and plume with dignity from his head, and, showing his long snowy hair, bowed gracefully around to the people, and then began to walk slowly backwards and forwards, aiding himself partly with his son’s arm and partly with a cane, now stopping to converse familiarly with some of the ladies, or of the many nobles and knights by whom he was attended, or[358]halting occasionally, as if suddenly interested in some person or thing he noticed among the crowd, and then again resuming his walk with all the marks of being perfectly at home among his people. The show, if show it might be called, went not on silently, for ever and anon the enthusiasm of the vulgar getting the better of their awe for majesty, their voices again rose to heaven in one universal and startling peal. The gallant groups of nobles and knights, who, by their numerous attendance on the King, gave strength to the throne in the eyes of the people, were also hailed with gratifying applause; and even some of the more renowned leaders among them were singled out and lauded by the plaudits of the spectators. Among these the Douglas was most prominently distinguished, and the good John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, had his ample share.How important do the smallest, the most pitifully trifling circumstances of a King’s actions appear in the eyes of his people! All those of his nobles or knights to whom Robert chanced particularly to extend his Royal attention, were it but for a minute, were noted by the shrewd observation of the Aberdonienses as among the favoured of the Court, and many a plan was hatched by individuals among the spectators for winning their patronage. Not a movement of His Majesty, not a turn, not a look, escaped remark, and the mightiest results were augured from signs the most insignificant.It happened that Sir Patrick Hepborne was standing with his father not far from the lower extremity of the open space, when the King came up to them. He had particularly noticed both of them before; and the acclamations of the people, who knew the deeds of the elder knight, and already loved the younger for his father’s sake, showed how much their hearts beat in unison with this mark of their Sovereign’s approbation. But now the King had something more to say to Sir Patrick the elder than merely to honour him in the eyes of the people, with an appearance of familiarity. He really wanted his advice with regard to the proposed armament, and to have his private opinion of certain matters ere the council should sit. With monarchs, opportunities of private conference with those they would speak to, are difficult to be commanded without remark; their actions, and the actions of those about them, are watched too closely to permit them to be approached without begetting speculation. A politic King is therefore obliged to catch at and avail himself of moments for business which are perhaps but ill suited for it; and it is often in the most crowded assemblage that they run the smallest risk of suspicion of being engaged in[359]anything serious. Robert, leaning on his two attendants, stood unusually long in conference with the Hepbornes. The fatigue and pain which he suffered in his limbs, by being detained in the standing posture for so great a length of time, was sufficiently manifest from the uneasy lifting and shifting of his feet, though his countenance, full of fire and animation when he spoke himself, and earnestly fixed in attention to what Sir Patrick Hepborne said to him in return, had no expression in it that might have led the spectator to believe that it was at all connected with the frail and vexed limbs that supported it, but which it seemed to have altogether forgotten in the intensity of the interest of the subject under discussion.While the personages of this group were thus engaged, a considerable movement in that part of the crowd near them, followed by some struggling and a good many high words, suddenly attracted their notice. A momentary expression of anxiety, if not of fear, crossed the wan features of royalty. The Earl of Moray and the two Hepbornes showed by their motions that they were determined to secure the King’s safety at the risk of their own lives; for, with resolute countenances, they laid their hands on their swords, and stepped between him and the point from which the danger, if there was any, must come, and to which their eyes were directed. The Earl of Fife acted independently. He made a wheel, which was difficult to be explained, but halted and fronted by the side of his father again, immediately in rear of the Earl of Moray and his two companions. The crowd, within a few yards of them, still continued to heave to and fro as if in labour, and at last a bulky figure appeared in the ancient Highland costume, and worming his way forward to the line of guards, immediately endeavoured to force a passage through between two of them. The two soldiers joined their spears to each other, and each of them grasped a butt and a point the more effectually to bar his progress. Undismayed by this their resolution, he in an instant put a hand on a shoulder of each of them, and raised himself up with the determined intention of hoisting himself over the obstruction. This action of his, however, was immediately met by a simultaneous and equally decisive movement on the part of the two guards. Just as he had succeeded in throwing one leg over the impediment, they, by a well-concerted effort, lifted him vigorously up, and horsed him upon the shafts of the coupled spears, amid the laughter of the surrounding populace. After some moments of rueful balancing upon his uneasy and ticklish saddle, during which he seemed to hang in dreadful doubt on which side he[360]was to fall, his large body at last overbalanced itself, and he rolled inwards towards the feet of the King, and those who were standing with him. The whole was the work of a moment.A loud murmur, mingled with the shrieks of “Treason—traitorie!” arose among the anxious people; and all bodies, heads, and eyes were bent towards the scene of action, in dread lest something tragical should follow. The two guards pressed forward to transfix the unceremonious intruder with their spears as he lay on the ground.“Back,” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger, bestriding his body like a Colossus; “back, I say, this man must not be hurt; he means no evil; I will answer for him with my life.”“Secure him at least, Sir Patrick,” cried the Earl of Fife.“My Lord, I will be his security,” replied Sir Patrick. “He is a good and loyal subject, and nothing need be apprehended from him.”“Is he not mad?” demanded Fife, with some anxiety. “Methinks his eye rolls somewhat wildly. By the mass, I like not his look overmuch.”“Be assured, my Lord, I well know the man,” replied Sir Patrick, stooping to assist him to rise.“Out fie!” cried Duncan MacErchar, who now stood before them, smoothing down his quelt, and blowing the dust with great care off a new suit of coarse home-spun tartan, that, with his rough raw-hide sandals, suited but ill with the splendid sword and baldrick that hung on him, and the richly-jewelled brooch that fastened his plaid; “Och, oich! Sir Patrick—ou ay, ou ay—troth, she be’s right glad to see her honour again. Uve, uve, ye loons,” continued he, addressing the two soldiers who had made so powerful a resistance to his entrance, “an she had kend that ye were going to give her sike an ill-faur’d ride as yon, and sike an ugly fling at the end o’t, by St. Giles, but she would have crackit yere filthy crowns one again others like two rotten eggs. But, oich, is she weel?” cried he, again turning eagerly towards Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger. “Troth she did hear of the gatherin’, and so she e’en came down here to see if King Roberts was for the fechts. And oich, she was glad to see her honours again, and the ould mans Sir Patricks yonder; but, uve, uve, she has had a sore tuilzie to get at her.”“I rejoice to see thee, Master MacErchar,” said Hepborne, hastily waving him away, under the strong impression of the necessity of ridding the King’s presence of him, without a moment’s delay; “but the present time and place ill befitteth for[361]such recognition. Retire then, I do beseech thee, and seek me on some other occasion. Thou mayest ask at the Castle gate for mine esquire Mortimer Sang, whom thou knowest; he will bring thee to me at such time as may be convenient for me.”“Uve, uve!” cried Duncan MacErchar, the warm sparkle gradually forsaking his eye, as Hepborne spoke, leaving him much abashed with a reception, for the coldness of which he had been little prepared; “oit, oit—ou ay—surely—troth she’ll do that. She’s not going to plague her honour’s honour a moment. She’s yede her ways hame again to her nain glen as fast as her legs can carry her. That she will—surely, surely. But, by the blessed mass, had she but kend that she sould be any hinderance to her honour, she sould not have yalt so far to fartigue her with a sight of her. But she did bid her be sure to claim ken o’ her in ony place, and before ony body.”“Yea, I did so,” replied Hepborne, vexed to see that he still remained in the King’s presence, and rather provoked at his boldness, not being aware that poor Duncan was perfectly ignorant that one of the four persons before him was His Majesty—“I did indeed bid thee do so; but verily I looked not for thine audacious approach before such eyes.”“And fat was Duncan MacErchar to mind fat other lord-bodies might be standing by, when her father, the noble Sir Patrick Hepborne, and at whose back she used to fight, was before her eyne?” replied the Highlander, a little out of temper. “Uve, uve!—surely, surely, Sir Patrick Hepborne, that did lead her on to the fechts, is mokell more to her than ony lord o’ them a’—ay, than King Robert himsel, gin she were here, as she’s in yon braw box yonder. Sure she did ken hersel the bonny Earl John Dunbar there, right brave and worthy knight; and feggs she kens that she’s not the noblemans that will scorn a poor man. And as for that pretty gentleman, and that douce discreet auld carle in the purple silken hauselines and the grey hose, they may be as good as him peraunter, but surely, surely, they cannot be better. Na, troth, but they must be mokell waur than him, an they would be for clapping their hands on the mouth o’ a poor man’s gratitudes. But surely, surely,” added he, “he be sorry sorry to have angered her honours.”“Thou dost altogether mistake in this matter, Duncan,” said Sir Patrick the younger, much distressed to perceive the mutual misunderstanding that existed—“thou dost altogether mistake; I am not offended.”“Hoot, toot—ay, ay—ou ay—sure,” replied Duncan, with a whimsical look of good-natured sarcasm in his countenance.[362]“Troth, she doth see that she’s not, neither the one nor the others, the same mans here, on the crowns o’ the causey o’ Aberdeen, that she was in the glen o’ the Dee yonder. Hup up!—Troth, she did take a grup of her hands yonder, ay, and she did moreover drink out of the same cup with her, and a proud mans she did make Duncan MacErchar hersels. But, uve, uve!—she’s with her neighbour lords and knights noo, and sike a ragged goat o’ the hills as her nainsel is no to be noticed amang so many braw frisking sheep, with fine woo on their backs. But sith that she did make Duncan proud, troth she’ll show her pride. Fient a bit o’ her will force her nainsel to the kens o’ mortal mans; so here’s her bonny sword and braw baudrick,” continued he, as he tried to take them off, “here’s the sword and the baudrick she bore so lightly, but the which hae grown of the sudden over heavy for her backs. But the poor Sir Page’s bonny brooch—oh ay! she’ll keep it right sickerly, as it was kindly and gratefully gi’en.”“Nay, Duncan, keep the sword and baldrick, I beseech thee, and seek for mine esquire to-night,” said Hepborne, much annoyed.“Hoof, uve, no,” replied the Highlander testily. “Sith she careth not to notice poor Duncan MacErchar before her father the ould mans (the Virgin’s blessing be upon her!) and the good Earl of Moray, and that pretty gentlemans, and yon discreet, well-natured, laughing auld carle in the grey hose and the purple hauselines yonder, troth she’ll no seek to trouble her esquire. So here’s her sword and baudrick, and she’s yede her ways hame again.”“Nay, Duncan, I’ll none of them,” cried Hepborne, putting them back with the back of his hand. “Thou art strangely mistaken here. Trust me, mine is not the heart that can use an old friend, yea, and above all, one that did save my very life, with the coldness that thou dost fancy. But thou art now in the presence of——.” He stopped, and would have added “of the King;” but at that moment His Majesty, who had richly enjoyed the scene as far as it had already gone, gave him such a look as at once showed him it was not his pleasure that it should be so speedily terminated. He went on then differently. “But thou art now in the presence of certain lords, with whom I am deeply engaged in discussing divers matters of most grave and weighty import, and deeply affecting the wellbeing of our country and the glory of our King; and of a truth I well know that thou dost love both over much to suffer thine own feelings to let, hinder, or do them prejudice in the smallest jot. Thou[363]canst not take offence that I did seem to neglect thee for matters of such moment. By the honour of a knight I will take thee, brave preserver of my life, by the hand,” continued he, seizing MacErchar with great cordiality, “I will take thy hand, I say, in the presence of the whole world, yea, an it were in the presence of King Robert himself. And as for drinking from the same cup with thee, what, have I not drank with thee of the sacred cup of thy hospitality, and thinkest thou I would refuse to drink with thee again? By St. Andrew, though rarely given to vinolence, I would rather swill gallons with thee than that thou shouldst deem me deficient in the smallest hair’s-breadth of gratitude to thee for the potent service thou didst render me at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon. Put on thy baldrick, man, yea, and the sword also, and think not for a moment that I could have been so base as to slight thee.”“Oich, oich!—oot, oot!—uve, uve!—fool she was—fool she was, surely,” cried Duncan, at once completely subdued, and very much put out of countenance by these unequivocal expressions of Hepborne’s honest and sincere regard for him. “Oit, oit! troth she was foolish, foolish; na, she’ll keep the sword, ay, and the bonny baudrick—ay, ay, ou ay, she’ll keep them noo till she dies. Uve, uve, she’s sore foolish, sore foolish. Oich, oich, will her honour Sir Patrick pardons her? Troth, she’s sore ashamed.”“Pardon thee,” said Sir Patrick the younger, again shaking MacErchar heartily by the hand—“pardon thee, saidst thou? By St. Baldrid, but I do like thee the better, friend Duncan, for the proper pride and feeling thou didst show. Thy pride is the pride of an honest heart, and had I, in good verity, been the very paltry and ungenerous knight that appearances did at first lead thee to imagine me to be, by the Rood, but I should have right well merited thy sovereign despisal.”“Oich, oich,” said Duncan, his eyes running over with the stream of kindly affections that now burst from his heart, and quite confused by his powerful emotions, “she’s over goods—she’s over foolish—out fie, surely, surely, she’s over goods. God bless her honour. But troth, she’ll no be tarrying langer noo to disturb her honour’s honour more at this times; and, ou ay, she’ll come surely to good Squire Mortimer’s at night, to see if her honour’s leisure may serve for seeing her.”“Nay, nay,” said Hepborne, after consulting the King’s countenance by a glance, to gather his pleasure, “thou shalt not go now. We had nearly done with our parlance, and the renewal of it at this time mattereth not a jot; so sith that thou[364]art here, my brave defender, perdie, thou shalt stay until I introduce thee to my father. Father,” continued he, turning to Sir Patrick the elder, “this is a brave soldier who hath fought for his King in many a stark stoure with thee. I do beseech thee to permit him opportunity to speak to thee, and peraunter thou wilt all the more readily do so, when I tell thee that he did save my life from the murderous blows of an assassin, the which had well nigh amortised me, by despatching the foul traitor with a single thrust of his spear.”“To hear that thou hast saved the life of my beloved son,” replied Sir Patrick, advancing and taking MacErchar by the hand, “were in itself enow to coart me to recognise thee as my benefactor, though I had never seen thee before. But well do I remember thy brave deeds, my worthy fellow-soldier.”“Oich, oich,” cried Duncan, dropping on his knees, and embracing those of Sir Patrick, but altogether unable to express his feelings, “oich, oich—surely, surely—fat can she say?—foolish, foolish—hoot, toot—ower big rewards for her—ooch—ower good, surely—hoit, oit, Duncan will die hersel for the good Sir Patrick—ay, or for ony flesh o’ hers—och-hone—uve, uve, she cannot speak.”“Yet did I never hear mortal tongue more eloquent,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, “sith that its very want of utterance doth show forth the honest and kindly metal of the heart. But by St. Andrew, I do know the heart to be bold as well as kind, seeing I forget not the actions of this heroic mountaineer in the field. Where all are brave, verily ’tis not an easy task to gain an overtopping height of glory; and yet less is it easy in the lower ranks of war, where the individuals stand thicker. Natheless, and maugre all these obstacles to fame, did this man’s deeds in battle so tower above all others, that, humble as he was, I often noted them—yea, and he should have been rewarded too, had I not weaned that he was killed in doing the very feat for the which I would have done him instant and signal honour. What came of thee,” continued Sir Patrick, addressing MacErchar, who had by this time risen to his legs, “what came of thee, my valiant mountaineer, after thou didst so gallantly save those engineer-men and their engine, when basely abandoned by the French auxiliaries, at the siege of Roxburgh, whose retreat thou didst cover against a host of the enemy by thy single targe and sword, until others were shamed into their duty by thy glorious ensample?”“Oich, oich—he, he, he!—a bonny tuilzie that,” cried Duncan, laughing heartily, “a bonny tuilzie; troth, she was but[365]roughly handled yon time. Of a truth, noble Sir Patrick, she did get sike an ill-favoured clewer from a chield with a mokell mace, that she was laid sprawling on the plain; and syne, poo! out ower her body did the English loons come flying after our men, in sike wicked fashion, that the very breath was trampled out o’ her bodys.”“But how didst thou ’scape with life after all?” demanded Sir Patrick the elder.“Troth, after they had all trotted over her, the wind just came back again into her bodys,” replied MacErchar; “and so she got up till her legs, and shook hersel, and scratched her lugs, that were singing as loud as twenty throstle-birds; when back came the villains, running like furies before our men, and whirled her away wi’ them, or ever she kend, into the town. There she lay prisoners for mony a days, till she broke their jails, and made her way to the Highlands. But troth, she took her spulzie wi’ her, for she had hidden that afore, and kend whare to find it again.”“Of a truth, the deed was one of the most desperate I did ever behold,” said Sir Patrick the elder, recurring to MacErchar’s action to which he had alluded. “He planted himself against a host, and seemed doomed to certain destruction. ’Tis a marvel that he is alive.”Whilst SirPatrickHepborne and the Earl of Moray, who also remembered him, were holding some further conference with MacErchar, Sir Patrick the younger approached the King, and privately begged a boon of his Majesty, the particulars of which he specified to him.“’Tis granted, Sir Patrick,” whispered the King; “but let it be asked of us aloud, that such part of the populace who may have been listening to what hath passed, may have their minds filled also with the wholesome ensample of their King rewarding virtue.”In obedience to Robert’s command, Hepborne knelt before him, and addressed him in a loud and distinct voice.“My liege, I do humbly beg a boon at thy Royal hands.”“Speak forth thy volunde, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” replied the King; “there are few names in our kingdom the which may call for more ready attention from King Robert than that the which hath ever been heard shouted in the front of his armies, and in the midst of the ranks of his discomfited enemies.”“The boon I do earnestly crave of your Majesty is, that you will be graciously pleased to bestow upon this gallant soldier, Duncan MacErchar, a commission in thy Royal Guard.”[366]“He hath it,” replied the King, “he hath it cheerfully at thy request, Sir Patrick; and by the faith of a King, it doth right well pleasure us thus to exercise the happiest part of our Royal power—I do mean that of rewarding loyal bravery such as this man hath so proved himself to possess; yea, and no time so fitting, methinks, for the exercise of this power; for when war is beginning, we should show our people that we do know to reward those who do well and truly serve us.”“Kneel down, kneel down, I say, before Robert King of Scotland,” said the Earl of Moray, slapping the astonished MacErchar upon the back, as he stood bereft of all sensation on discovering in whose presence he had been standing and prating so much. He obeyed mechanically, whilst a shout arose from that part of the crowd who had heard all that had passed, and was caught up gradually by those farther off, who cheered upon trust long ere the story could spread among them. The King moved away; but still Duncan remained petrified upon his knees, with his hands clasped, his eyes thrown up, and his mouth open, until Sir Patrick the younger showed himself his best friend by awaking him from his trance and leading him away, amidst the ceaseless shouts of the mob.
Theevening was beautiful, when the loyal inhabitants of Aberdeen, who, by their King’s temporary residence among them, were rendered eagerly alive to every little movement regarding him, began to be aware that something was in contemplation, from observing a slender guard of spearmen marching forth from the Castle, and forming in single files at about a yard between each, so as to enclose an extended oblong space on the upper part of the street. The populace began to crowd towards the barrier of spears, in expectation of something interesting, and soon formed a dense mass everywhere behind it. The houses overlooking the spot began to be filled with guests, too, who were glad to claim acquaintance with their inmates, for the sake of procuring places at the windows, which were all of them quickly occupied, as well as every one of those antique and[357]curiously applied outer stairs and whimsical projections that characterized the city architecture of the period.
Idle speculation became rapidly busy among the anxious gazers. All hoped they were to see the King, yet few thought the hope well founded; for the infirmities of age had so beset His Majesty that he was but little equal to undergo the labour of the parade attendant on his elevated rank, far less to endure public exhibitions of his person.
All doubt was soon put to an end, however. A distant flourish of trumpets was heard, and martial music followed, swelling and growing upon the ear as it slowly approached from the innermost recesses of the Castle. It burst forth with shriller clangour, and the performers presently issued from the Castle, preceding a grand procession of nobles, knights, and ladies, habited in the most magnificent dresses, followed by a small body of guards, in the midst of whom there was a splendid litter, having the Royal Arms, surmounted by the Crown of Scotland, placed over its velvet canopy. It was borne by twelve esquires, in the richest Royal liveries. Murmurs of self-congratulation and joyful greeting began to run around the assemblage of people; but when the litter was set down in the middle of the open space, and Robert II., their beloved monarch, the observer of justice, whose ears were ever open to the complaints of his meanest subjects, and of whom it was even commonly said that he never spoke word that he performed not—when the good King of Scotland was assisted forth from his conveyance, deafening shouts rent the air, and were prolonged unceasingly, till the lungs of the shouters waxed weary from their exertions.
The reason of the monarch thus taking the air before his people, was to give confidence to the good citizens of Aberdeen, amidst the exaggerated rumours of invasion, by showing himself so surrounded by his dauntless barons.
The infirm old King, plainly habited in a purple velvet mantle, lined with fur, and purple silk nether garments, with grey woollen hose, folded amply over them, for the comfort of his frail limbs, leaning upon his son the Earl of Fife, and partly supported by his much-favoured son-in-law, the Earl of Moray, took his broad hat and plume with dignity from his head, and, showing his long snowy hair, bowed gracefully around to the people, and then began to walk slowly backwards and forwards, aiding himself partly with his son’s arm and partly with a cane, now stopping to converse familiarly with some of the ladies, or of the many nobles and knights by whom he was attended, or[358]halting occasionally, as if suddenly interested in some person or thing he noticed among the crowd, and then again resuming his walk with all the marks of being perfectly at home among his people. The show, if show it might be called, went not on silently, for ever and anon the enthusiasm of the vulgar getting the better of their awe for majesty, their voices again rose to heaven in one universal and startling peal. The gallant groups of nobles and knights, who, by their numerous attendance on the King, gave strength to the throne in the eyes of the people, were also hailed with gratifying applause; and even some of the more renowned leaders among them were singled out and lauded by the plaudits of the spectators. Among these the Douglas was most prominently distinguished, and the good John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, had his ample share.
How important do the smallest, the most pitifully trifling circumstances of a King’s actions appear in the eyes of his people! All those of his nobles or knights to whom Robert chanced particularly to extend his Royal attention, were it but for a minute, were noted by the shrewd observation of the Aberdonienses as among the favoured of the Court, and many a plan was hatched by individuals among the spectators for winning their patronage. Not a movement of His Majesty, not a turn, not a look, escaped remark, and the mightiest results were augured from signs the most insignificant.
It happened that Sir Patrick Hepborne was standing with his father not far from the lower extremity of the open space, when the King came up to them. He had particularly noticed both of them before; and the acclamations of the people, who knew the deeds of the elder knight, and already loved the younger for his father’s sake, showed how much their hearts beat in unison with this mark of their Sovereign’s approbation. But now the King had something more to say to Sir Patrick the elder than merely to honour him in the eyes of the people, with an appearance of familiarity. He really wanted his advice with regard to the proposed armament, and to have his private opinion of certain matters ere the council should sit. With monarchs, opportunities of private conference with those they would speak to, are difficult to be commanded without remark; their actions, and the actions of those about them, are watched too closely to permit them to be approached without begetting speculation. A politic King is therefore obliged to catch at and avail himself of moments for business which are perhaps but ill suited for it; and it is often in the most crowded assemblage that they run the smallest risk of suspicion of being engaged in[359]anything serious. Robert, leaning on his two attendants, stood unusually long in conference with the Hepbornes. The fatigue and pain which he suffered in his limbs, by being detained in the standing posture for so great a length of time, was sufficiently manifest from the uneasy lifting and shifting of his feet, though his countenance, full of fire and animation when he spoke himself, and earnestly fixed in attention to what Sir Patrick Hepborne said to him in return, had no expression in it that might have led the spectator to believe that it was at all connected with the frail and vexed limbs that supported it, but which it seemed to have altogether forgotten in the intensity of the interest of the subject under discussion.
While the personages of this group were thus engaged, a considerable movement in that part of the crowd near them, followed by some struggling and a good many high words, suddenly attracted their notice. A momentary expression of anxiety, if not of fear, crossed the wan features of royalty. The Earl of Moray and the two Hepbornes showed by their motions that they were determined to secure the King’s safety at the risk of their own lives; for, with resolute countenances, they laid their hands on their swords, and stepped between him and the point from which the danger, if there was any, must come, and to which their eyes were directed. The Earl of Fife acted independently. He made a wheel, which was difficult to be explained, but halted and fronted by the side of his father again, immediately in rear of the Earl of Moray and his two companions. The crowd, within a few yards of them, still continued to heave to and fro as if in labour, and at last a bulky figure appeared in the ancient Highland costume, and worming his way forward to the line of guards, immediately endeavoured to force a passage through between two of them. The two soldiers joined their spears to each other, and each of them grasped a butt and a point the more effectually to bar his progress. Undismayed by this their resolution, he in an instant put a hand on a shoulder of each of them, and raised himself up with the determined intention of hoisting himself over the obstruction. This action of his, however, was immediately met by a simultaneous and equally decisive movement on the part of the two guards. Just as he had succeeded in throwing one leg over the impediment, they, by a well-concerted effort, lifted him vigorously up, and horsed him upon the shafts of the coupled spears, amid the laughter of the surrounding populace. After some moments of rueful balancing upon his uneasy and ticklish saddle, during which he seemed to hang in dreadful doubt on which side he[360]was to fall, his large body at last overbalanced itself, and he rolled inwards towards the feet of the King, and those who were standing with him. The whole was the work of a moment.
A loud murmur, mingled with the shrieks of “Treason—traitorie!” arose among the anxious people; and all bodies, heads, and eyes were bent towards the scene of action, in dread lest something tragical should follow. The two guards pressed forward to transfix the unceremonious intruder with their spears as he lay on the ground.
“Back,” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger, bestriding his body like a Colossus; “back, I say, this man must not be hurt; he means no evil; I will answer for him with my life.”
“Secure him at least, Sir Patrick,” cried the Earl of Fife.
“My Lord, I will be his security,” replied Sir Patrick. “He is a good and loyal subject, and nothing need be apprehended from him.”
“Is he not mad?” demanded Fife, with some anxiety. “Methinks his eye rolls somewhat wildly. By the mass, I like not his look overmuch.”
“Be assured, my Lord, I well know the man,” replied Sir Patrick, stooping to assist him to rise.
“Out fie!” cried Duncan MacErchar, who now stood before them, smoothing down his quelt, and blowing the dust with great care off a new suit of coarse home-spun tartan, that, with his rough raw-hide sandals, suited but ill with the splendid sword and baldrick that hung on him, and the richly-jewelled brooch that fastened his plaid; “Och, oich! Sir Patrick—ou ay, ou ay—troth, she be’s right glad to see her honour again. Uve, uve, ye loons,” continued he, addressing the two soldiers who had made so powerful a resistance to his entrance, “an she had kend that ye were going to give her sike an ill-faur’d ride as yon, and sike an ugly fling at the end o’t, by St. Giles, but she would have crackit yere filthy crowns one again others like two rotten eggs. But, oich, is she weel?” cried he, again turning eagerly towards Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger. “Troth she did hear of the gatherin’, and so she e’en came down here to see if King Roberts was for the fechts. And oich, she was glad to see her honours again, and the ould mans Sir Patricks yonder; but, uve, uve, she has had a sore tuilzie to get at her.”
“I rejoice to see thee, Master MacErchar,” said Hepborne, hastily waving him away, under the strong impression of the necessity of ridding the King’s presence of him, without a moment’s delay; “but the present time and place ill befitteth for[361]such recognition. Retire then, I do beseech thee, and seek me on some other occasion. Thou mayest ask at the Castle gate for mine esquire Mortimer Sang, whom thou knowest; he will bring thee to me at such time as may be convenient for me.”
“Uve, uve!” cried Duncan MacErchar, the warm sparkle gradually forsaking his eye, as Hepborne spoke, leaving him much abashed with a reception, for the coldness of which he had been little prepared; “oit, oit—ou ay—surely—troth she’ll do that. She’s not going to plague her honour’s honour a moment. She’s yede her ways hame again to her nain glen as fast as her legs can carry her. That she will—surely, surely. But, by the blessed mass, had she but kend that she sould be any hinderance to her honour, she sould not have yalt so far to fartigue her with a sight of her. But she did bid her be sure to claim ken o’ her in ony place, and before ony body.”
“Yea, I did so,” replied Hepborne, vexed to see that he still remained in the King’s presence, and rather provoked at his boldness, not being aware that poor Duncan was perfectly ignorant that one of the four persons before him was His Majesty—“I did indeed bid thee do so; but verily I looked not for thine audacious approach before such eyes.”
“And fat was Duncan MacErchar to mind fat other lord-bodies might be standing by, when her father, the noble Sir Patrick Hepborne, and at whose back she used to fight, was before her eyne?” replied the Highlander, a little out of temper. “Uve, uve!—surely, surely, Sir Patrick Hepborne, that did lead her on to the fechts, is mokell more to her than ony lord o’ them a’—ay, than King Robert himsel, gin she were here, as she’s in yon braw box yonder. Sure she did ken hersel the bonny Earl John Dunbar there, right brave and worthy knight; and feggs she kens that she’s not the noblemans that will scorn a poor man. And as for that pretty gentleman, and that douce discreet auld carle in the purple silken hauselines and the grey hose, they may be as good as him peraunter, but surely, surely, they cannot be better. Na, troth, but they must be mokell waur than him, an they would be for clapping their hands on the mouth o’ a poor man’s gratitudes. But surely, surely,” added he, “he be sorry sorry to have angered her honours.”
“Thou dost altogether mistake in this matter, Duncan,” said Sir Patrick the younger, much distressed to perceive the mutual misunderstanding that existed—“thou dost altogether mistake; I am not offended.”
“Hoot, toot—ay, ay—ou ay—sure,” replied Duncan, with a whimsical look of good-natured sarcasm in his countenance.[362]“Troth, she doth see that she’s not, neither the one nor the others, the same mans here, on the crowns o’ the causey o’ Aberdeen, that she was in the glen o’ the Dee yonder. Hup up!—Troth, she did take a grup of her hands yonder, ay, and she did moreover drink out of the same cup with her, and a proud mans she did make Duncan MacErchar hersels. But, uve, uve!—she’s with her neighbour lords and knights noo, and sike a ragged goat o’ the hills as her nainsel is no to be noticed amang so many braw frisking sheep, with fine woo on their backs. But sith that she did make Duncan proud, troth she’ll show her pride. Fient a bit o’ her will force her nainsel to the kens o’ mortal mans; so here’s her bonny sword and braw baudrick,” continued he, as he tried to take them off, “here’s the sword and the baudrick she bore so lightly, but the which hae grown of the sudden over heavy for her backs. But the poor Sir Page’s bonny brooch—oh ay! she’ll keep it right sickerly, as it was kindly and gratefully gi’en.”
“Nay, Duncan, keep the sword and baldrick, I beseech thee, and seek for mine esquire to-night,” said Hepborne, much annoyed.
“Hoof, uve, no,” replied the Highlander testily. “Sith she careth not to notice poor Duncan MacErchar before her father the ould mans (the Virgin’s blessing be upon her!) and the good Earl of Moray, and that pretty gentlemans, and yon discreet, well-natured, laughing auld carle in the grey hose and the purple hauselines yonder, troth she’ll no seek to trouble her esquire. So here’s her sword and baudrick, and she’s yede her ways hame again.”
“Nay, Duncan, I’ll none of them,” cried Hepborne, putting them back with the back of his hand. “Thou art strangely mistaken here. Trust me, mine is not the heart that can use an old friend, yea, and above all, one that did save my very life, with the coldness that thou dost fancy. But thou art now in the presence of——.” He stopped, and would have added “of the King;” but at that moment His Majesty, who had richly enjoyed the scene as far as it had already gone, gave him such a look as at once showed him it was not his pleasure that it should be so speedily terminated. He went on then differently. “But thou art now in the presence of certain lords, with whom I am deeply engaged in discussing divers matters of most grave and weighty import, and deeply affecting the wellbeing of our country and the glory of our King; and of a truth I well know that thou dost love both over much to suffer thine own feelings to let, hinder, or do them prejudice in the smallest jot. Thou[363]canst not take offence that I did seem to neglect thee for matters of such moment. By the honour of a knight I will take thee, brave preserver of my life, by the hand,” continued he, seizing MacErchar with great cordiality, “I will take thy hand, I say, in the presence of the whole world, yea, an it were in the presence of King Robert himself. And as for drinking from the same cup with thee, what, have I not drank with thee of the sacred cup of thy hospitality, and thinkest thou I would refuse to drink with thee again? By St. Andrew, though rarely given to vinolence, I would rather swill gallons with thee than that thou shouldst deem me deficient in the smallest hair’s-breadth of gratitude to thee for the potent service thou didst render me at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon. Put on thy baldrick, man, yea, and the sword also, and think not for a moment that I could have been so base as to slight thee.”
“Oich, oich!—oot, oot!—uve, uve!—fool she was—fool she was, surely,” cried Duncan, at once completely subdued, and very much put out of countenance by these unequivocal expressions of Hepborne’s honest and sincere regard for him. “Oit, oit! troth she was foolish, foolish; na, she’ll keep the sword, ay, and the bonny baudrick—ay, ay, ou ay, she’ll keep them noo till she dies. Uve, uve, she’s sore foolish, sore foolish. Oich, oich, will her honour Sir Patrick pardons her? Troth, she’s sore ashamed.”
“Pardon thee,” said Sir Patrick the younger, again shaking MacErchar heartily by the hand—“pardon thee, saidst thou? By St. Baldrid, but I do like thee the better, friend Duncan, for the proper pride and feeling thou didst show. Thy pride is the pride of an honest heart, and had I, in good verity, been the very paltry and ungenerous knight that appearances did at first lead thee to imagine me to be, by the Rood, but I should have right well merited thy sovereign despisal.”
“Oich, oich,” said Duncan, his eyes running over with the stream of kindly affections that now burst from his heart, and quite confused by his powerful emotions, “she’s over goods—she’s over foolish—out fie, surely, surely, she’s over goods. God bless her honour. But troth, she’ll no be tarrying langer noo to disturb her honour’s honour more at this times; and, ou ay, she’ll come surely to good Squire Mortimer’s at night, to see if her honour’s leisure may serve for seeing her.”
“Nay, nay,” said Hepborne, after consulting the King’s countenance by a glance, to gather his pleasure, “thou shalt not go now. We had nearly done with our parlance, and the renewal of it at this time mattereth not a jot; so sith that thou[364]art here, my brave defender, perdie, thou shalt stay until I introduce thee to my father. Father,” continued he, turning to Sir Patrick the elder, “this is a brave soldier who hath fought for his King in many a stark stoure with thee. I do beseech thee to permit him opportunity to speak to thee, and peraunter thou wilt all the more readily do so, when I tell thee that he did save my life from the murderous blows of an assassin, the which had well nigh amortised me, by despatching the foul traitor with a single thrust of his spear.”
“To hear that thou hast saved the life of my beloved son,” replied Sir Patrick, advancing and taking MacErchar by the hand, “were in itself enow to coart me to recognise thee as my benefactor, though I had never seen thee before. But well do I remember thy brave deeds, my worthy fellow-soldier.”
“Oich, oich,” cried Duncan, dropping on his knees, and embracing those of Sir Patrick, but altogether unable to express his feelings, “oich, oich—surely, surely—fat can she say?—foolish, foolish—hoot, toot—ower big rewards for her—ooch—ower good, surely—hoit, oit, Duncan will die hersel for the good Sir Patrick—ay, or for ony flesh o’ hers—och-hone—uve, uve, she cannot speak.”
“Yet did I never hear mortal tongue more eloquent,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, “sith that its very want of utterance doth show forth the honest and kindly metal of the heart. But by St. Andrew, I do know the heart to be bold as well as kind, seeing I forget not the actions of this heroic mountaineer in the field. Where all are brave, verily ’tis not an easy task to gain an overtopping height of glory; and yet less is it easy in the lower ranks of war, where the individuals stand thicker. Natheless, and maugre all these obstacles to fame, did this man’s deeds in battle so tower above all others, that, humble as he was, I often noted them—yea, and he should have been rewarded too, had I not weaned that he was killed in doing the very feat for the which I would have done him instant and signal honour. What came of thee,” continued Sir Patrick, addressing MacErchar, who had by this time risen to his legs, “what came of thee, my valiant mountaineer, after thou didst so gallantly save those engineer-men and their engine, when basely abandoned by the French auxiliaries, at the siege of Roxburgh, whose retreat thou didst cover against a host of the enemy by thy single targe and sword, until others were shamed into their duty by thy glorious ensample?”
“Oich, oich—he, he, he!—a bonny tuilzie that,” cried Duncan, laughing heartily, “a bonny tuilzie; troth, she was but[365]roughly handled yon time. Of a truth, noble Sir Patrick, she did get sike an ill-favoured clewer from a chield with a mokell mace, that she was laid sprawling on the plain; and syne, poo! out ower her body did the English loons come flying after our men, in sike wicked fashion, that the very breath was trampled out o’ her bodys.”
“But how didst thou ’scape with life after all?” demanded Sir Patrick the elder.
“Troth, after they had all trotted over her, the wind just came back again into her bodys,” replied MacErchar; “and so she got up till her legs, and shook hersel, and scratched her lugs, that were singing as loud as twenty throstle-birds; when back came the villains, running like furies before our men, and whirled her away wi’ them, or ever she kend, into the town. There she lay prisoners for mony a days, till she broke their jails, and made her way to the Highlands. But troth, she took her spulzie wi’ her, for she had hidden that afore, and kend whare to find it again.”
“Of a truth, the deed was one of the most desperate I did ever behold,” said Sir Patrick the elder, recurring to MacErchar’s action to which he had alluded. “He planted himself against a host, and seemed doomed to certain destruction. ’Tis a marvel that he is alive.”
Whilst SirPatrickHepborne and the Earl of Moray, who also remembered him, were holding some further conference with MacErchar, Sir Patrick the younger approached the King, and privately begged a boon of his Majesty, the particulars of which he specified to him.
“’Tis granted, Sir Patrick,” whispered the King; “but let it be asked of us aloud, that such part of the populace who may have been listening to what hath passed, may have their minds filled also with the wholesome ensample of their King rewarding virtue.”
In obedience to Robert’s command, Hepborne knelt before him, and addressed him in a loud and distinct voice.
“My liege, I do humbly beg a boon at thy Royal hands.”
“Speak forth thy volunde, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” replied the King; “there are few names in our kingdom the which may call for more ready attention from King Robert than that the which hath ever been heard shouted in the front of his armies, and in the midst of the ranks of his discomfited enemies.”
“The boon I do earnestly crave of your Majesty is, that you will be graciously pleased to bestow upon this gallant soldier, Duncan MacErchar, a commission in thy Royal Guard.”[366]
“He hath it,” replied the King, “he hath it cheerfully at thy request, Sir Patrick; and by the faith of a King, it doth right well pleasure us thus to exercise the happiest part of our Royal power—I do mean that of rewarding loyal bravery such as this man hath so proved himself to possess; yea, and no time so fitting, methinks, for the exercise of this power; for when war is beginning, we should show our people that we do know to reward those who do well and truly serve us.”
“Kneel down, kneel down, I say, before Robert King of Scotland,” said the Earl of Moray, slapping the astonished MacErchar upon the back, as he stood bereft of all sensation on discovering in whose presence he had been standing and prating so much. He obeyed mechanically, whilst a shout arose from that part of the crowd who had heard all that had passed, and was caught up gradually by those farther off, who cheered upon trust long ere the story could spread among them. The King moved away; but still Duncan remained petrified upon his knees, with his hands clasped, his eyes thrown up, and his mouth open, until Sir Patrick the younger showed himself his best friend by awaking him from his trance and leading him away, amidst the ceaseless shouts of the mob.