THE CAGED LION PREFACE When the venture has been made of dealing with historical events andcharacters, it always seems fair towards the reader to avow whatliberties have been taken, and how much of the sketch is founded onhistory. In the present case, it is scarcely necessary to do more thanrefer to the almost unique relations that subsisted between Henry V. Andhis prisoner, James I. Of Scotland; who lived with him throughout hisreign on the terms of friend rather than of captive, and was absolutelysheltered by this imprisonment throughout his nonage and early youth fromthe frightful violence and presumption of the nobles of his kingdom. James's expedition to Scotland is wholly imaginary, though there appearsto have been space for it during Henry's progress to the North to pay hisdevotions at Beverley Minster. The hero of the story is likewiseinvention, though, as Froissart ascribes to King Robert II. 'eleven sonswho loved arms, ' Malcolm may well be supposed to be the son of one ofthose unaccounted for in the pedigrees of Stewart. The same may be saidof Esclairmonde. There were plenty of Luxemburgs in the Low Countries, but the individual is not to be identified. Readers of Tyler's 'HenryV. , ' of Agnes Strickland's 'Queens, ' Tytler's 'Scotland, ' and Barante's'Histoire de Bourgogne' will be at no loss for the origin of all I haveventured to say of the really historical personages. Mr. Fox Bourne's'English Merchants' furnished the tradition respecting Whittington. I amafraid the knighthood was really conferred on Henry's first return toEngland, after the battle of Agincourt; but human--or at leaststory-telling--nature could not resist an anachronism of a few years forsuch a story. The only other wilful alteration of a matter of time iswith regard to the Duke of Burgundy's interview with Henry. At the timeof Henry's last stay at Paris the Duke was attending the death-bed of hiswife, Michelle of France, but he had been several times in the King'scamp at the siege of Meaux. Another alteration of fact is that Ralf Percy, instead of being secondson of Hotspur, should have been Henry Percy, son of Hotspur's brotherRalf; but the name would have been so confusing that it was thoughtbetter to set Dugdale at defiance and consider the reader's convenience. Alice Montagu, though her name sounds as if it came out of the mostcommonplace novelist's repertory, was a veritable personage--the heiressof the brave line of Montacute, or Montagu; daughter to the Earl ofSalisbury who was killed at the siege of Orleans; wife to the Earl of thesame title (in her right) who won the battle of Blore Heath and wasbeheaded at Wakefield; and mother to Earl Warwick the King-maker, theMarquis of Montagu, and George Nevil, Archbishop of York. As nothing isknown of her but her name, I have ventured to make use of the blank. For Jaqueline of Hainault, and her pranks, they are to be found inMonstrelet of old, and now in Barante; though justice to her and QueenIsabeau compels me to state that the incident of the ring is whollyfictitious. Of the trial of Walter Stewart no record is preserved savethat he was accused of '_roborica_. ' James Kennedy was the first greatbenefactor to learning in Scotland, and founder of her earliestUniversity, having been himself educated at Paris. The Abbey of Coldingham is described from a local compilation of theearly part of the century, with an account of the history of that grandold foundation, and the struggle for appointments between the parenthouse at Durham and the Scottish Government. Priors Akefield and Draxare historical, and as the latter really did commission a body of moss-troopers to divert an instalment of King James's ransom into his ownprivate coffers, I do not think I can have done him much injustice. Asthe nunnery of St. Abbs has gone bodily into the sea, I have been theless constrained by the inconvenient action of fact upon fiction. Andfor the Hospital of St. Katharine's-by-the-Tower, its history is to befound in Stowe's 'Survey of London, ' and likewise in the evidence beforethe Parliamentary Commission, which shows what it was intended by QueenPhilippa to have been to the river-side population, and what it mighthave been had such intentions been understood and acted on--nay, what itmay yet become, since the foundation remains intact, although thebuilding has been removed. C. M. YONGE. November 24, 1869. CHAPTER I: THE GUEST OF GLENUSKIE A master hand has so often described the glens and ravines of Scotland, that it seems vain and presumptuous to meddle with them; and yet we mustask our readers to figure to themselves a sharp cleft sloping downwardsto a brawling mountain stream, the sides scattered with gray rocks ofevery imaginable size, interspersed here and there with heather, gorse, or furze. Just in the widest part of the valley, a sort of platform ofrock jutted out from the hill-side, and afforded a station for one ofthose tall, narrow, grim-looking fastnesses that were the strength ofScotland, as well as her bane. Either by nature or art, the rock had been scarped away on three sides, so that the walls of the castle rose sheer from the steep descent, exceptwhere the platform was connected with the mountain side by, as it were, an isthmus joining the peninsula to the main rock; and even this isthmus, a narrow ridge of rock just wide enough for the passage of a singlehorse, had been cut through, no doubt with great labour, and renderedimpassable, except by the lowering of a drawbridge. Glenuskie Castle wasthus nearly impregnable, so long as it was supplied with water, and forthis all possible provision had been made, by guiding a stream into thecourt. The castle was necessarily narrow and confined; its massive walls took upmuch even of the narrow space that the rock afforded; but it had been sopiled up that it seemed as though the builders wished to make heightcompensate for straitness. There was, too, an unusual amount of grace, both in the outline of the gateway with its mighty flanking towers, andof the lofty donjon tower, that shot up like a great finger above theMassy More, as the main building was commonly called by the inhabitantsof Glenuskie. Wondrous as were the walls, and deep-set as were the arches, they had allthat peculiar slenderness of contour that Scottish taste seemed to havelearnt from France; and a little more space was gained at the top, bothof the gateway towers and the donjon, by a projecting cornice ofbeautifully vaulted arches supporting a battlement, that gave thebuilding a crowned look. On the topmost tower was of course planted theensign of the owner, and that ensign was no other than the regal ruddyLion of Scotland, ramping on his gold field within his tressure fiery andcounter flory, but surmounted by a label divided into twelve, and placedupon a pen-noncel, or triangular piece of silk. The eyes of the earlyfifteenth century easily deciphered such hieroglyphics as these, which toevery one with the least tincture of 'the noble science' indicated thatthe owner of the castle was of royal Stewart blood, but of a youngerbranch, and not yet admitted to the rank of knighthood. The early spring of the year 1421 was bleak and dreary in that wildlonely vale, and large was the fire burning on the hearth in the castlehall, in the full warmth of which there sat, with a light blue clothcloak drawn tightly round him, a tall old man, of the giant mould ofScotland, and with a massive thoughtful brow, whose grand form wasrendered visible by the absence of hair, only a few remnants of yellowlocks mixed with silver floating from his temples to mingle with hismagnificent white beard. A small blue bonnet, with a short eaglefeather, fastened with a brooch of river pearl, was held in the handsthat were clasped over his face, as, bending down in his chair, hemurmured through his white beard, 'Have mercy, good Lord, have mercy onthe land. Have mercy on my son, --and guard him when he goes out and whenhe comes in. Have mercy on the children I have toiled for, and teach meto judge and act for them aright in these sore straits; and above all, have mercy on our King, break his fetters, and send him home to be thehealer of his land, the avenger of her cruel wrongs. ' So absorbed was the old man that he never heard the step that came acrossthe hall. It was a slightly unequal step, but was carefully hushed atentrance, as if supposing the old man asleep; and at a slow pace the new-comer crossed the hall to the chimney, where he stood by the fire, warming himself and looking wistfully at the old Knight. He was wrapped in a plaid, black and white, which increased the grayappearance of the pale sallow face and sad expression of the wearer, aboy of about seventeen, with soft pensive dark eyes and a sicklycomplexion, with that peculiar wistful cast of countenance that is apt toaccompany deformity, though there was no actual malformation apparent, unless such might be reckoned the slight halt in the gait, and the smallstature of the lad, who was no taller than many boys of twelve orfourteen. But there was a depth of melancholy in those dark brown eyes, that went far into the heart of any one who had the power to be touchedwith their yearning, appealing, almost piteous gaze, as though theirowner had come into a world that was much too hard for him, and werelooking out in bewilderment and entreaty for some haven of peace. He had stood for some minutes looking thoughtfully into the fire, and thesadness of his expression ever deepening, before the old man raised hisface, and said, 'You here, Malcolm? where are the others?' 'Patie and Lily are still on the turret-top, fair Uncle, ' returned theboy. 'It was so cold;' and he shivered again, and seemed as though hewould creep into the fire. 'And the reek?' asked the uncle. 'There is another reek broken out farther west, ' replied Malcolm. 'Patieis sure now that it is as you deemed, Uncle; that it is a cattle-liftingfrom Badenoch. ' 'Heaven help them!' sighed the old man, again folding his hands inprayer. 'How long, O Lord, how long?' Malcolm took up the appeal of the Psalm, repeating it in Latin, but withnone the less fervency; that Psalm that has ever since David's timeserved as the agonized voice of hearts hot-burning at the sight of wrong. 'Ah yes, ' he ended, 'there is nothing else for it! Uncle, this waswherefore I came. It was to speak to you of my purpose. ' 'The old purpose, Malcolm? Nay, that hath been answered before. ' 'But listen, listen, dear Uncle. I have not spoken of it for a full yearnow. So that you cannot say it is the caresses of the good monks. No, nor the rude sayings of the Master of Albany, ' he added, colouring at alook of his uncle. 'You bade me say no more till I be of full age; norwould I, save that I were safe lodged in an abbey; then might Patrick andLily be wedded, and he not have to leave us and seek his fortune far awayin France; and in Patie's hands and leading, my vassals might be safe;but what could the doited helpless cripple do?' he added, the colourrising hotly to his cheek with pain and shame. 'Oh, Sir, let me but savemy soul, and find peace in Coldingham!' 'My poor bairn, ' said his uncle, laying a kind hand upon him, as in hiseagerness he knelt on one knee beside the chair, 'it must not be. It istrue that the Regent and his sons would willingly see you in a cloister. Nay, that unmanly jeer of Walter Stewart's was, I verily believe, meantto drive you thither. But were you there, then would poor Lilias becomea prize worth having, and the only question would be, whether Walter ofAlbany, or Robert of Athole, or any of the rest of them, should tear heraway to be the lady of their fierce ungodly households. ' 'You could give her to Patrick, Uncle. ' 'No, Malcolm, that were not consistent with mine honour, or oaths to theKing and State. You living, and Laird of Glenuskie, Lilias is a mereyounger sister, whom you may give in marriage as you will; but were youdead to the world, under a cowl, then the Lady of Glenuskie, a king'sgrandchild, may not be disposed of, save by her royal kinsman, or bythose who, woe worth the day! stand in his place. I were no better thanyon Wolf of Badenoch or the Master of Albany, did I steal a march on theRegent, and give the poor lassie to my own son!' 'And so Lilias must pine, and Patrick wander off to the weary Frenchwar, ' sighed Malcolm; 'and I must be scorned by my cousins whenever theHouse of Stewart meets together; and must strive with these fierce cruelmen, that will ever be too hard for me when Patie is gone. ' His eyesfilled with tears as he continued, 'Ah! that fair chapel, with the sweetchant of the choir, the green smooth-shaven quadrangle, the calm cloisterwalk; there, there alone is rest. There, one ceases to be a prey and alaughing-stock; there, one sees no more bloodshed and spulzie; there, oneneed not be forced to treachery or violence. Oh, Uncle! my very soul issick for Coldingham. How many years will it be ere I can myself bestowmy sister on Patie, and hide my head in peace!' Before his uncle had done more than answer, 'Nay, nay, Malcolm, these areno words for the oe of Bruce; you are born to dare as well as to suffer, 'there was an approach of footsteps, and two young people entered thehall; the first a girl, with a family likeness to Malcolm, but tall, upright, beautiful, and with the rich colouring of perfect health, herplaid still hanging in a loose swelling hood round her brilliant face anddark hair, snooded with a crimson ribbon and diamond clasp; the other, aknightly young man, of stately height and robust limbs, keen bright blueeyes and amber hair and beard, moving with the ease and grace that showedhis training in the highest school of chivalry. 'Good Uncle, ' cried the maiden in eager excitement, 'there is a guestcoming. He has just turned over the brae side, and can be coming nowherebut here. ' 'A guest!' cried both Malcolm and the elder knight, 'of what kind, Lily?' 'A knight--a knight in bright steel, and with three attendants, ' saidLilias; 'one of Patrick's French comrades, say I, by the grace of hisriding. ' 'Not a message from the Regent, I trust, ' sighed Malcolm. 'Patie, oh donot lower the drawbridge, till we hear whether it be friend or foe. ' 'Nay, Malcolm, 'tis well none save friends heard that, ' said Patrick. 'When shall we make a brave man of you?' 'Nevertheless, Patie, ' said the old gentleman, 'though I had rather thecaution had come from the eldest rather than the youngest head among us, parley as much as may serve with honour and courtesy ere opening the gateto the stranger. Hark, there is his bugle. ' A certain look of nervous terror passed over young Malcolm's face, whilehis sister watched full of animation and curiosity, as one to whomexcitement of any kind could hardly come amiss, exclaiming, as she lookedfrom the window, 'Fear not, most prudent Malcolm; Father Ninian is withhim: Father Ninian must have invited him. ' 'Strange, ' muttered Patrick, 'that Father Ninian should be picking up andbringing home stray wandering land-loupers;' and with an anxious glanceat Lilias, he went forward unwillingly to perform those duties ofhospitality which had become necessary, since the presence of the castlechaplain was a voucher for the guest. The drawbridge had already beenlowered, and the new-comer was crossing it upon a powerful black steed, guided by Father Ninian upon his rough mountain pony, on which he hadshortly before left the castle, to attend at a Church festival held atColdingham. The chaplain was a wise, prudent, and much-respected man; nevertheless, young Sir Patrick Drummond felt little esteem for his prudence indisplaying one at least of the treasures of the castle to the knight onthe black horse. The stranger was a very tall man, of robust andstalwart make, apparently aged about seven or eight and twenty years, clad in steel armour, enamelled so as to have a burnished blueappearance; but the vizor of the helmet was raised, and the face beneathit was a manly open face, thoroughly Scottish in its forms, but veryhandsome, and with short dark auburn hair, and eyes of the same peculiartint, glancing with a light that once seen could never be forgotten; andthe bearing was such, that Patrick at once growled to himself, 'One ofour haughty loons, brimful of _outre cuidance_; and yet how coolly hebears it off. If he looks to find us his humble servants, he will findhimself mistaken, I trow. ' 'Sir Patrick, ' said Father Ninian, who was by this time close to him, 'let me present to you Sir James Stewart, a captive knight who is come tocollect his ransom. I fell in with him on the road, and as his road laywith mine, I made bold to assure him of a welcome from your honouredfather and Lord Malcolm. ' Patrick's face cleared. It was no grace or beauty that he feared in anystranger, but the sheer might and unright that their Regency enabled theHouse of Albany to exercise over the orphans of the royal family, whosehead was absent; and a captive knight could be no mischievous person. Still this might be only a specious pretence to impose on the chaplain, and gain admittance to the castle; and Patrick was resolved to be well onhis guard, though he replied courteously to the graceful bow with whichthe stranger greeted him, saying in a manly mellow voice and southernaccent, 'I have been bold enough to presume on the good father's offer ofhospitality, Sir. ' 'You are welcome, Sir, ' returned Patrick, taking the stranger's bridlethat he might dismount; 'my father and my cousin will gladly further onhis way a prisoner seeking freedom. ' 'A captive may well be welcome, for the sake of one prisoner, ' said hisfather, who had in the meantime come forward, and extended his hand tothe knight, who took it, and uncovering his bright locks, respectfullysaid, 'I am in the presence of the noble Tutor of Glenuskie. ' 'Even so, Sir, ' returned Sir David Drummond, who was, in fact, as hisnephew's guardian, usually known by this curious title; 'and you here seemy wards, the Lord Malcolm and Lady Lilias. Your knighthood will makeallowances for the lad, he is but home-bred. ' For while Lilias withstately grace responded to Sir James Stewart's courtly greeting, Malcolmbashfully made an awkward bow, and seemed ready to shrink within himself, as, indeed, the brutal jests of his rude cousins had made him dread andhate the eye of a stranger; and while the knight was led forward to thehall fire, he merely pressed up to the priest, and eagerly demanded underhis breath, 'Have you brought me the book?' but Father Ninian had onlytime to nod, and sign that a volume was in his bosom, before old SirDavid called out, 'What now, Malcolm, forgetting that your part is tocome and disarm the knight who does you the honour to be your guest?' AndSir Patrick rather roughly pushed him forward, gruffly whispering, 'Leavenot Lily to supply your lack of courtesy. ' Malcolm shambled forward, bewildered, as the keen auburn eye fell on him, and the cheery kindly voice said, 'Ha! a new book--a romance? Well maythat drive out other thoughts. ' 'Had he ears to hear such a whisper?' thought Malcolm, as he mumbled inthe hoarse voice of bashful boyhood, 'Not a romance, Sir, but whateverthe good fathers at Coldingham would lend me. ' 'It is the "Itinerarium" of the blessed Adamnanus, ' replied FatherNinian, producing from his bosom a parcel, apparently done up in manywrappers, a seal-skin above all. 'The "Itinerarium"!' exclaimed Sir James, 'methought I had heard of sucha book. I have a friend in England who would give many a fair rose noblefor a sight of it. ' 'A friend in England!'--the words had a sinister sound to the audience, and while Malcolm jealously gathered up the book into his arms, thepriest made cold answer, that the book was the property of the Monasteryat Coldingham, and had only been lent to Lord Malcolm Stewart by specialfavour. The guest could not help smiling, and saying he was glad bookswere thus prized in Scotland; but at that moment, as the sunny look shoneon his face, and he stood before the fire in the close suit of chamoisleather which he wore under his armour, old Sir David exclaimed, 'Ha!never did I see such a likeness. Patie, you should be old enough toremember; do you not see it?' 'What should I see? Who is he like?' asked Patrick, surprised at hisfather's manner. 'Who?' whispered Sir David in a lowered voice; 'do you not see it? to theunhappy lad, the Duke of Rothsay. ' Patrick could not help smiling, for he had been scarcely seven years oldat the time of the murder of the unfortunate Prince of Scotland; but aflush of colour rose into the face of the guest, and he shortly answered, 'So I have been told;' and then assuming a seat near Sir David, heentered into conversation with him upon the condition of Scotland at theperiod, inquiring into the state of many of the families and districts byname. Almost always there was but one answer--murder--harrying--foray;and when the question followed, 'What had the Regent done?' there was ashrug of the shoulders, and as often Sir James's face flushed with a darkred fire, and his hand clenched at the hilt of the sword by his side. 'And is there not a man in Scotland left to strike for the right?' hedemanded at last; 'cannot nobles, clergy, and burghers, band themselvesin parliament to put down Albany and his bloody house, and recall theirtrue head?' 'They love to have it so, ' returned Sir David sadly. 'United, they mightbe strong enough; but each knows that his fellow, Douglas, Lennox, March, or Mar, would be ready to play the same game as Albany; and to raise arival none will stir. ' 'And so, ' proceeded Sir James, bitterly, 'the manhood of Scotland goesforth to waste itself in an empty foreign war, merely to keep France inas wretched a state of misrule as itself. ' 'Nay, nay, Sir, ' cried Patrick angrily, 'it is to save an ancient allyfrom the tyranny of our foulest foe. It is the only place where aScotsman can seek his fortune with honour, and without staining his soulwith foul deeds. Bring our King home, and every sword shall be at hisservice. ' 'What, when they have all been lavished on the crazy Frenchman?' said SirJames. 'No, Sir, ' said Patrick, rising in his vehemence; 'when they have beenbrightened there by honourable warfare, not tarnished by homebarbarities. ' 'He speaks truly, ' said Sir David; 'and though it will go to my heart topart with the lad, yet may I not say a word to detain him in a land wherethe contagion of violence can scarce be escaped by a brave man. ' Sir James gave a deep sigh as of pain, but as if to hinder its beingremarked, promptly answered, 'That may be; but what is to be the lot of aland whose honest men desert her cause as too evil for them, and seek outanother, that when seen closer is scarce less evil?' 'How, Sir!' cried Patrick; 'you a prisoner of England, yet speakingagainst our noble French allies, so foully trampled on?' 'I have lived long enough in England, ' returned Sir James, 'to think thatland happiest where law is strong enough to enforce peace and order. ' 'The coward loons!' muttered Patrick, chiefly out of the spirit ofopposition. 'You have been long in England, Sir?' said Lilias, hoping to direct theconversation into a more peaceful current. 'Many years, fair lady, ' he replied, turning courteously to her; 'I wastaken when I was a mere lad, but I have had gentle captors, and no overharsh prison. ' 'And has no one ransomed you?' she asked pitifully, as one much moved bya certain patience on his brow, and in his sweet full voice. 'No one, lady. My uncle was but too willing that the heir should be keptaloof; and it is only now he is dead, that I have obtained leave from myfriendly captor to come in search of my ransom. ' Lilias would have liked to know the amount, but it was not manners toask, since the rate of ransom was the personal value of the knight; andher uncle put in the question, who was his keeper. 'The Earl of Somerset, ' rather hastily answered Sir James; and then atonce Lilias exclaimed, 'Ah, Uncle, is not the King, too, in his charge?'And then questions crowded on. 'What like is the King? How brooks hehis durance? What freedom hath he? What hope is there of his return?Can he brook to hear of his people's wretchedness?' This was the first question at which Sir James attempted to unclose hishitherto smiling and amused lip. Then it quivered, and the dew glitteredin his eyes as he answered, 'Brook it! No indeed, lady. His heart burnswithin him at every cry that comes over the Border, and will well-nighburst at what I have seen and heard! King Harry tells him that to sendhim home were but tossing him on the swords of the Albany. Better, better so, to die in one grapple for his country's sake, than lie bound, hearing her bitter wails, and unable to stir for her redress!' and as hedashed the indignant tear from his eyes, Patrick caught his hand. 'Your heart is in the right place, friend, ' he said; 'I look on you as anhonest man and brother in arms from this moment. ' ''Tis a bargain, ' said Sir James, the smile returning, and his eyes againglistening as he wrung Sir Patrick's hand. 'When the hour comes for thetrue rescue of Scotland, we will strike together. ' 'And you will tell the King, ' added Patrick, 'that here are true hearts, and I could find many more, only longing to fence him from the Albanyswords, about which King Harry is so good as to fash himself. ' 'But what like is the King?' asked Lilias eagerly. 'Oh, I would fain seehim. Is it true that he was the tallest man at King Harry's sacring?more shame that he were there!' 'He and I are much of a height, lady, ' returned the knight. 'Maybe I maygive you the justest notion of him by saying that I am said to be hisvery marrow. ' 'That explains your likeness to the poor Duke, ' said Sir David, satisfied; 'and you too count kindred with our royal house, methinks?' 'I am sprung from Walter the Stewart, so much I know; my lands lieCarrick-wards, ' said Sir James lightly, 'but I have been a prisoner solong, that the pedigree of my house was never taught me, and I can makeno figure in describing my own descent. ' And as though to put an end tothe inquiry, he walked to the window, where Malcolm so soon as they hadbegun to talk of the misrule of Scotland, had ensconced himself in thewindow-seat with his new book, making the most of the failing light, andasked him whether the Monk of Iona equalled his expectations. Malcolm was not easy to draw out at first, but it presently appeared thathe had been baffled by a tough bit of Latinity. The knight looked, andreadily expounded the sentence, so that all became plain; and then, as itwas already too dark to pursue the study with comfort, he stood over theboy, talking to him of books and of poems, while the usually pale, listless, uninterested countenance responded by looks of eager delightand flushing colour. It seemed as though each were equally pleased with the other: Sir James, at finding so much knowledge and understanding in a Scottish castle; andMalcolm, at, for the first time, meeting anything but contempt for histastes from aught but an ecclesiastic. Their talk continued till they were summoned to supper, which had beensomewhat delayed to provide for the new-comers. It was a simple enoughmeal, suited to Lent, and was merely of dried fish, with barley bread andkail brose; but there were few other places in Scotland where it wouldhave been served with so much of the refinement that Sir David Drummondand his late wife had learnt in France. A tablecloth and napkins, separate trenchers, and water for hand cleansing, were not always to befound in the houses of the nobles; and in fact, there were those whocharged Malcolm's delicacy and timidity on the _nisete_ or folly of hiseffeminate education; the having the rushes on the floor frequentlychanged, the preference of lamps for pine torches, and the not keepingfalcons, dogs, swine, and all, pell mell in the great hall. Lilias sat between her uncle and his guest, looking so fair and brightthat Patrick felt fresh accesses of angry jealousy, while the visitortalked as one able to report to the natives from another world, and thatworld the hateful England, which as a Scotsman he was bound to abhor. Hadit been France, it had been endurable, but praise of English habits wasmere disloyalty; and yet, whenever Patrick tried to throw in adisparaging word, he found himself met with a quiet superiority such ashe had believed no knight in Scotland could assume with him, and still itwas neither brow-beating nor insolence, nothing that could give offence. Malcolm begged to know whether there had not been a rare good poet inEngland, called Chaucer. Verily there had been, said the knight; and ona little solicitation, so soon as supper was over, he recited to theeager and delighted auditors the tale of patient Grisel, as rendered byChaucer, calling forth eager comments from both Patrick and Lily, on theunknightliness of the Marquis. Malcolm, however, added, 'Yet, after all, she was but a mere peasant wench. ' 'What makes that, young Sir?' replied Sir James gravely. 'I would haveyou to know that the husband's rank is the wife's, and the more unequalwere their lot before, the more is he bound to respect her, and to makeher be respected. ' 'That may be, after the deed is done, ' said Sir David, in a warningvoice; 'but it is not well that like should not match with like. Many anevil have I seen in my time, from unequal mating. ' 'And, Sir, ' eagerly exclaimed Patrick, 'no doubt you can gainsay theslander, that our noble King has been caught in the toils of an artfulEnglishwoman, and been drawn in to promise her a share in his crown. ' A flush of crimson flamed forth on Sir James Stewart's cheeks, and histawny eye glanced with a fire like red lightning, but he seemed, as itwere, to be holding himself in, and answered with a voice forcibly keptlow and calm, and therefore the more terribly stern, 'Young Sir, I warnyou to honour your future queen. ' Sir David made a gesture with his hand, enforcing restraint upon his son, and turning to Sir James, said, 'Our queen will we honour, when such sheis, Sir; but if you are returning to the King, it were well that heshould know that our hot Scottish bloods, here, could scarce brook anEnglish alliance, and certainly not one beneath his birth. ' 'The King would answer, Sir, ' returned Sir James, haughtily, but withrecovered command over himself, 'that it is for him to judge whom hissubjects shall brook as their queen. Moreover, ' he added, in a differentand more conciliatory voice, 'Scotsmen must be proud indeed who disdainthe late King's niece, the great-granddaughter of King Edward III. , andas noble and queenly a demoiselle as ever was born in a palace. ' 'She is so very fair, then?' said Lilies, who was of course on the sideof true love. 'You have seen her, gentle Sir? Oh, tell us what are herbeauties?' 'Fair damsel, ' said Sir James, in a much more gentle tone, 'you forgetthat I am only a poor prisoner, who have only now and then viewed thelady Joan Beaufort with distant reverence, as destined to be my queen. All I can tell is, that her walk and bearing mark her out for a throne. ' 'And oh!' cried Malcolm, 'is it not true that the King hath composedsongs and poems in her honour?' 'Pah!' muttered Patrick; 'as though the King would be no better than awandering minstrel rhymester!' 'Or than King David!' dryly said Sir James. 'It is true, then, Sir, ' exclaimed Lilias. 'He doth verily addminstrelsy to his other graces? Know you the lines, Sir? Can you singthem to us? Oh, I pray you. ' 'Nay, fair maid, ' returned Sir James, 'methinks I might but add to thescorn wherewith Sir Patrick is but too much inclined to regard thecaptive King. ' 'A captive, a captive--ay, minstrelsy is the right solace for a captive, 'said Patrick; 'at least, so they say and sing. Our king will have betterwork when he gains his freedom. Only there will come before me asubtilty I once saw in jelly and blanc-mange, at a banquet in France, where a lion fell in love with a hunter's daughter, and let her, forlove's sake, draw his teeth and clip his claws, whereupon he foundhimself made a sport for her father's hounds. ' 'I promise you, Sir Patrick, ' replied the guest, 'that the Lady Joan ismore hike to send her Lion forth from the hunter's toils, with claws andteeth fresh-whetted by the desire of honour. 'But the lay--the hay, Sir, ' entreated Lilias; 'who knows that it may notwin Patrick to be the Lady Joan's devoted servant? Malcolm, your harp!' Malcolm had already gone in quest of the harp he loved all the better forthe discouragement thrown on his gentle tastes. The knight leant back, with a pensive look softening his features as hesaid, after a little consideration, 'Then, fair lady, I will sing you thesong made by King James, when he had first seen the fair mistress of hisheart, on the slopes of Windsor, looking from his chamber window. Hefeigns her to be a nightingale. ' 'And what is that, Sir?' demanded Lilias. 'I have heard the word inromances, and deemed it a kind of angel that sings by night. ' 'It is a bird, sister, ' replied Malcolm; 'Philomel, that pierces herbreast with a thorn, and sings sweetly even to her death. ' 'That's mere minstrel leasing, Malcolm, ' said Patrick. 'I have both seenand heard the bird in France--_Rossignol_, as we call it there; and wereI a lady, I should deem it small compliment to be likened to a littlerusset-backed, homely fowl such as that. ' 'While I, ' replied the prisoner, 'feel so much with your fair sister, that nightingales are a sort of angels that sing by night, that it painsme, when I think of winning my freedom, to remember that I shall neveragain hear their songs answering one another through the forest ofWindsor. ' Patrick shrugged his shoulders, but Lilias was so anxious to hear thelay, that she entreated him to be silent; and Sir James, with a manlymellow voice, with an exceedingly sweet strain in it, and a skill, bothof modulation and finger, such as showed admirable taste and instruction, poured forth that beautiful song of the nightingale at Windsor, whichcommences King James's story of his love, in his poem of the King'sQuhair. There was an eager pressing round to hear, and not only were Lilias andMalcolm, but old Sir David himself, much affected by the strain, whichthe latter said put him in mind of the days of King Robert III. , which, sad as they were, now seemed like good old times, so much worse was thepresent state of affairs. Sir James, however, seemed anxious to preventdiscussion of the verses he had sung, and applied to Malcolm to give aspecimen of his powers: and thus, with music, ballad, and lay, theevening passed away, till the parting cup was sent round, and the Tutorof Glenuskie and Malcolm marshalled their guest to the apartment where hewas to sleep, in a wainscoted box bedstead, and his two attendantsquires, a great iron-gray Scot and a rosy honest-faced Englishman, onpallets on the floor. In the morning he went on his journey, but not without an invitation torest there again on his way back, whether with or without his ransom. Hepromised to come, saying that he should gladly bear to the King the lastadvices from one so honoured as the Tutor of Glenuskie; and, on theirsides, Malcolm and Sir David resolved to do their best to have some goldpieces to contribute, rather than so 'proper a knight' should fail inraising his ransom; but gold was never plenty, and Patrick needed allthat his uncle could supply, to bear him to those wars in France, wherehe looked for renown and fortune. For these were, as may have been gathered, those evil days when James I. Of Scotland was still a captive to England, and when the House of Albanyexercised its cruel misrule upon Scotland; delaying to ransom the King, lest they should bring home a master. Old Robert of Albany had been King Stork, his son Murdoch was King Log;and the misery was infinitely increased by the violence and lawlessnessof Murdoch's sons. King Robert II. Had left Scotland the fearful legacyof, as Froissart says, 'eleven sons who loved arms. ' Of these, RobertIII. Was the eldest, the Duke of Albany the second. These were bothdead, and were represented, the one by the captive young King James, theother by the Regent, Duke Murdoch of Albany, and his brother John, Earlof Buchan, now about to head a Scottish force, among whom PatrickDrummond intended to sail, to assist the French. Others of the eleven, Earls of Athol, Menteith, &c. , survived; but theyoungest of the brotherhood, by name Malcolm, who had married the heiressof Glenuskie, had been killed at Homildon Hill, when he had solemnlycharged his Stewart nephews and brothers to leave his two orphan childrento the sole charge of their mother's cousin, Sir David Drummond, a goodold man, who had been the best supporter and confidant of poor RobertIII. In his unhappy reign, and in embassies to France had lost much ofthe rugged barbarism to which Scotland had retrograded during the warswith England. CHAPTER II: THE RESCUE OF COLDINGHAM It was a lonely tract of road, marked only by the bare space trodden byfeet of man and horse, and yet, in truth, the highway between Berwick andEdinburgh, which descended from a heathery moorland into a somewhatspacious valley, with copsewood clothing one side, in the midst of whichrose a high mound or knoll, probably once the site of a camp, for itstill bore lines of circumvallation, although it was entirely deserted, except by the wandering shepherds of the neighbourhood, or occasionallyby outlaws, who found an admirable ambush in the rear. The spring had hung the hazels with tassels, bedecked the willows withgolden downy tufts, and opened the primroses and celandines beneath them, when the solitary dale was disturbed by the hasty clatter of horses'feet, and hard, heavy breathing as of those who had galloped headlongbeyond their strength. Here, however, the foremost of the party, an oldesquire, who grasped the bridle-rein of youth by his side, drew up hisown horse, and that which he was dragging on with him, saying-- 'We may breathe here a moment; there is shelter in the wood. And you, Rab, get ye up to the top of Jill's Knowe, and keep a good look-out. ' 'Let me go back, you false villain!' sobbed the boy, with the first useof his recovered breath. 'Do not be so daft, Lord Malcolm, ' replied the Squire, retaining his holdon the boy's bridle; 'what, rin your head into the wolf's mouth again, when we've barely brought you off haill and sain?' 'Haill and sain? Dastard and forlorn, ' cried Malcolm, with passionateweeping. 'I--I to flee and leave my sister--my uncle! Oh, where arethey? Halbert, let me go; I'll never pardon thee. ' 'Hoot, my lord! would I let you gang, when the Tutor spak to me as plainas I hear you now? "Take off Lord Malcolm, " says he; "save him, and yousave the rest. See him safe to the Earl of Mar. " Those were his words, my lord; and if you wilna heed them, I will. ' 'What, and leave my sister to the reivers? Oh, what may not they bedoing to her? Let us go back and fall on them, Halbert; better diesaving her than know her in Walter Stewart's hands. Then were I thewretched craven he calls me. ' 'Look you, Lord Malcolm, ' said Halbert, laying his finger on his nose, with a knowing expression, 'my young lady is safe from harm so long asyou are out of the Master of Albany's reach. Had you come by a cannythrust in the fray, as no doubt was his purpose, or were you in his handsto be mewed in a convent, then were your sister worth the wedding; butthe Master will never wed her while you live and have friends to backyou, and his father, the Regent, will see she has no ill-usage. You'lldo best for yourself and her too, as well as Sir David, if you make forDunbar, and call ben your uncles of Athole and Strathern. --How now, Rab?are the loons making this way?' 'Na, na!' said Rab, descending; ''tis from the other gate; 'tis a knightin blue damasked steel: he, methinks, that harboured in our castle someweeks syne. ' 'Hm!' said Halbert, considering; 'he looked like a trusty cheild: maybehe'd guide my lord here to a wiser wit, and a good lance on the way toDunbar is not to be scorned. ' In fact, there would have been no time for one party to concealthemselves from the other; for, hidden by the copsewood, and unheeded bythe watchers who were gazing in the opposite direction, Sir James Stewartand his two attendants suddenly came round the foot of Jill's Knowe uponthe fugitives, who were profiting by the interval to loosen the girths oftheir horses, and water them at the pool under the thicket, whilstHalbert in vain tried to pacify and reason with the young master, who hadthrown himself on the grass in an agony of grief and despair. Sir James, after the first momentary start, recognized the party in an instant, andat once leapt from his horse, exclaiming-- 'How now, my bonnie man--my kind host--what is it? what makes thisgrief?' 'Do not speak to me, Sir, ' muttered the unhappy boy. 'They have beenreft--reft from me, and I have done nothing for them. Walter of Albanyhas them, and I am here. ' And he gave way to another paroxysm of grief, while Halbert explained toSir James Stewart that when Sir Patrick Drummond had gone to embark forFrance, with the army led to the aid of Charles VI. By the Earl ofBuchan, his father and cousins, with a large escort, had accompanied himto Eyemouth; whence, after taking leave of him, they had set out to spendPassion-tide and Easter at Coldingham Abbey, after the frequent fashionof the devoutly inclined among the Scottish nobility, in whose castlesthere was often little commodity for religious observances. Short, however, as was the distance, they had in the midst of it been suddenlyassailed by a band of armed men, among whom might easily be recognizedthe giant form of young Walter Stewart, the Master of Albany, the RegentDuke Murdoch's eldest son, who was well known for his lawless excessesand violence. His father's silky sayings, and his own ruder speeches, had long made it known to the House of Glenuskie that the family policywas to cajole or to drive the sickly heir into a convent, and, renderingLilias the possessor of the broad lands inherited from both parents, unite her and them to the Albany family. The almost barbarous fierceness and wild licentiousness of Walter wouldhave made the arrangement abhorrent to Lilias, even had not love passagesalready passed between her and her cousin, Patrick Drummond, and SirDavid had hitherto protected her by keeping Malcolm in the secular life;but Walter, it seemed, had grown impatient, and had made this treacherousattack, evidently hoping to rid himself of the brother, and secure thesister. No sooner had the Tutor of Glenuskie perceived that his ownparty were overmatched, than he had bidden his faithful squire to securethe bairns--if not both, at least the boy; and Halbert, perceiving thatLilias had already been pounced upon by Sir Walter himself and severalmore, seized the bridle of the bewildered Malcolm, who was still tryingto draw his sword, and had absolutely swept him away from the scene ofaction before he had well realized what was passing; and now that thepoor lad understood the whole, his horror, grief, and shame wereunspeakable. Before Sir James had done more than hear the outline of Halbert's tale, however, the watchers on the mound gave the signal that the reivers werecoming that way--a matter hitherto doubtful, since no one could guesswhether Walter Stewart would make for Edinburgh or for Doune. With theutmost agility Sir James sprang up the side of the mound, reconnoitred, and returned again just as Halbert was trying to stir his master from theground, and Malcolm answering sullenly that he would not move--he wouldbe taken and die with the rest. 'You may save them instead, if you will attend to me, ' said Sir James;and at his words the boy suddenly started up with a look of hope. 'How many fell upon you?' demanded Sir James. 'Full a hundred lances, ' replied Halbert (and a lance meant at leastthree men). 'It wad be a fule's wark to withstand them. Best bide fastin the covert, for our horses are sair forfaughten. ' 'If there are now more than twenty lances, I am greatly mistaken, 'returned Sir James. 'They must have broken up after striking their blow, or have sent to secure Glenuskie; and we, falling on them from thisthicket--' 'I see, I see, ' cried Halbert. 'Back, ye loons; back among the hazels. Hold every one his horse ready to mount. ' 'With your favour, Sir Squire, I say, bind each man his horse to a tree. The skene and broadsword, which I see you all wear, will be ten times aseffective on foot. ' 'Do as the knight bids, ' said Malcolm, starting forth with colour on hischeek, light in his eye, that made him another being. 'In him there ishelp. ' 'Ay, ay, Lord Malcolm, ' muttered Halbert; 'you need not tell me that: Iknow my duty better than not to do the bidding of a belted knight, andpretty man too of his inches. ' The two attendants of Sir James were meantime apparently uttering someremonstrance, to which he lightly replied, 'Tut, Nigel; it will do thineheart good to hew down a minion of Albany. What were I worth could I notstrike a blow against so foul a wrong to my own orphan kindred? Brewster, I'll answer it to thy master. These are his foes, as well as those ofall honest men. Ha! thou art as glad to be at them as I myself. ' By this time he had exchanged his cap for a steel helmet, and wasassuming the command as his natural right, as he placed the men in theirambush behind the knoll, received reports from those he had set to watch, and concerted the signal with Halbert and his own followers. Malcolmkept by him, shivering with intense excitement and eagerness; and thusthey waited till the horses' hoofs and clank of armour were distinctlyaudible. But even then Sir James, with outstretched hand, signed hisfollowers back, and kept them in the leash, as it were, until the troopwas fairly in the valley, those in front beginning to halt to give theirhorses water. They were, in effect, riding somewhat carelessly, and withthe ease of men whose feat was performed, and who expected no moreopposition. Full in the midst was Lilias, entirely muffled and pinionedby a large plaid drawn closely round her, and held upon the front of thesaddle of a large tall horse, ridden by a slender, light-limbed, wirygroom, whom Malcolm knew as Christopher Hall, a retainer of the Duke ofAlbany; and beside him rode her captor, Sir Walter Stewart, a man littleabove twenty, but with a bronzed, hardened, reckless expression that madehim look much older, and of huge height and giant build. Malcolm knewhim well, and regarded him with unmitigated horror and dread, both fromthe knowledge of his ruffianly violence even towards his father, fromfear of his intentions, and from the misery that his brutal jests, scoffs, and practical jokes had often personally inflicted: and the sightof his sister in the power of this wicked man was the realization of allhis worst fears. But ere there was time for more than one strong pang ofconsternation and constitutional terror, Sir James's shout of 'St. Andrewfor the right!' was ringing out, echoed by all the fifteen in ambush withhim, as simultaneously they leapt forward. Malcolm, among the first, darting with one spring, as it were, to the horse where his sister wascarried, seized the bridle with his left hand, and flashing his swordupon the ruffian with the other, shouted, 'Let go, villain; give me mysister!' Hall's first impulse was to push his horse forward so as totrample the boy down, but Malcolm's hold rendered this impossible;besides, there was the shouting, the clang, the confusion of the outburstof an ambush all around and on every side, and before the man could freehis hand to draw his weapon he necessarily loosed his grasp of Lilias, who, half springing, half falling, came to the ground, almostoverthrowing her brother in her descent, but just saved by him fromcoming down prostrate. The horse, suddenly released, started forwardwith its rider and at the same moment Malcolm, recovering himself, stoodwith his sword in his hand, his arm round his sister's waist, assuringher that she was safe, and himself glowing for the first time with manlyexultation. Had he not saved and rescued her himself? It was as well, however, that the rescue did not depend on his soleprowess. Indeed, by the time the brother and sister were clingingtogether and turning to look round, the first shock was over, and theretainers of Albany, probably fancying the attack made by a much largertroop, were either in full flight, or getting decidedly the worst intheir encounters with their assailants. Sir James Stewart had at the first onset sprung like a lion upon theMaster of Albany, and without drawing his sword had grappled with him. 'In the name of St. Andrew and the King, yield thy prey, thou dastard, 'were his words as he threw his arms round the body of Sir Walter, andexerted his full strength to drag him from his horse. The young giantwrithed, struggled, cursed, raged; he had not space to draw sword or evendagger, but he struck furiously with his gauntleted hand, strove to drivehis horse forward. The struggle like that of Hercules and Antaeus, sodesperate and mighty was the strength put forth on either side, butnothing could unclasp the iron grip of those sinewy arms, and almost assoon as Malcolm and Lilias had eyes to see what was passing, WalterStewart was being dragged off his horse by that tremendous grapple, andthe next moment his armour rung as he lay prostrate on his back upon theground. His conqueror set his mailed foot upon his neck lightly, but so as toprevent any attempt to rise, and after one moment's pause to gatherbreath, said in a clear deep trumpet voice, 'Walter Stewart of Albany, onone condition I grant thee thy life. It is that thou take the mostsolemn oath on the spot that no spulzie or private brawl shall henceforthstain that hand of thine while thy father holds the power in Scotland. Take that oath, thou livest: refuse it, and--' He held up the deadlylittle dagger called the misericorde. 'And who art thou, caitiff land-louper, ' muttered Walter, 'to put to oathknights and princes?' The knight raised the visor of his helmet. The evening sun shoneresplendently on his damasked blue armour and the St. Andrew's cross onhis breast, and lighted up that red fire that lurked in his eyes, andwithal the calm power and righteous indignation on his features mighthave befitted an avenging angel wielding the lightning. 'Thou wilt know me when we meet again, ' was all he said; and for the verycalmness of the voice the Master of Albany, who was but a merecommonplace insolent ruffian, quailed with awe and terror to the verybackbone. 'Loose me, and I will swear, ' he faintly murmured. Sir James, before removing his foot, unclasped his gorget, and undoing achain, held up a jewel shaped like a St. Andrew's cross, with a diamondin the midst, covering a fragmentary relic. At the sight WalterStewart's eyes, large pale ones, dilated as if with increasedconsternation, the sweat started on his forehead, and his breath came inshorter gasps. Malcolm and Lilias, standing near, likewise felt a senseof strange awe, for they too had heard of this relic, a supposed fragmentof St. Andrew's own instrument of martyrdom, which had belonged to St. Margaret, and had been thought a palladium to the royal family and Houseof Stewart. 'Rise on thy knees, ' said Sir James, now taking away his foot, 'and swearupon this. ' Walter, completely cowed and overawed, rose to his knees at his victor'scommand, laid his hand on the relic, and in a shaken, almost tremulousvoice, repeated the words of the oath after his dictation: 'I, WalterStewart, Master of Albany, hereby swear to God and St. Andrew, to fightin no private brawl, to spoil no man nor woman, to oppress no poor man, clerk, widow, maid, or orphan, to abstain from all wrong or spulzie fromthis hour until the King shall come again in peace. ' He uttered the words, and kissed the jewel that was tendered to him; andthen Sir James said, in the same cold and dignified tone, 'Let thine oathbe sacred, or beware. Now, mount and go thy way, but take heed _how_ Imeet thee again. ' Sir Walter's horse was held for him by Brewster, the knight's Englishattendant, and without another word he flung himself into the saddle, androde away to join such of his followers as were waiting dispersed at asafe distance to mark his fate, but without attempting anything for hisassistance. 'Oh, Sir!' burst forth Malcolm; but then, even as he was about to utterhis thanks, his eye sought for the guardian who had ever been hismouthpiece, and, with a sudden shriek of dismay, he cried, 'My uncle!where is he? where is Sir David?' 'Alack! alack!' cried Lilias. 'Oh, brother, I saw him on the ground; hefell before my horse. I saw no more, for the Master held me, and muffledmy face. Oh, let us back, he may yet live. ' 'Yea, let us back, ' said Sir James, 'if we may yet save the good old man. Those villains will not dare to follow; or if they do, Nigel--Brewster, you understand guarding the rear. ' 'Sir, ' began Lilias, 'how can we thank--' 'Not at all, lady, ' replied Sir James, smiling; 'you will do better totake your seat; I fear it must be _en croupe_, for we can scarce dismountone of your guards. ' 'She shall ride behind me, ' said Malcolm, in a more alert and confidentvoice than had ever been heard from him before. 'Ay, right, ' said Sir James, placing a kind hand on his shoulder; 'thouhast won her back by thine own exploit, and mayst well have the keepingof her. That rush on the caitiff groom was well and shrewdly done. ' And for all Malcolm's anxiety for his uncle, his heart had never givensuch a leap as at finding himself suddenly raised from the depressed down-trodden coward into something like manhood and self-respect. Lilias, who, like most damsels of her time, was hardy and active, saw nodifficulties in the mode of conveyance, and, so soon as Malcolm hadseated himself on horseback, she placed one foot upon his toe, and with aspring of her own, assisted by Sir James's well-practised hand, wasinstantly perched on the crupper, clasping her brother round the waistwith her arms, and laying her head on his shoulder in loving pride at hisexploit, while for her further security Sir James threw round them boththe long plaid that had so lately bound her. 'Dear Malcolm'--and her whisper fell sweetly on his ear--'it will bebonnie tidings for Patie that thou didst loose me all thyself. The falsetyrant, to fall on us the very hour Patie was on the salt sea. ' But they were riding so fast that there was scant possibility for words;and, besides, Sir James kept too close to them for private whispers. Inabout an hour's time they had crossed the bit of table-land that formedthe moor, and descended into another little gorge, which was the placewhere the attack had been made upon the travellers. This was where it was possible that they might find Sir David; but notrace was to be seen, except that the grass was trampled and stained withblood. Perhaps, both Lilias and old Halbert suggested, some of theirpeople had returned and taken him to the Abbey of Coldingham, and as thiswas by far the safest lodging and refuge for her and her brother, thehorses' heads were at once turned thitherwards. The grand old Priory of Coldingham, founded by King Edgar, son ofMargaret the Saint, and of Malcolm Ceanmohr, in testimony of hisgratitude for his recovery of his father's throne from the usurperDonaldbane, was a Benedictine monastery under the dominion of the greatcentral Abbey of Durham. It had been a great favourite with the Scottish kings of that gloriousdynasty which sprung from Margaret of Wessex, and had ample estates, which, when it was in good hands, enabled it to supply the manifoldpurposes of an ecclesiastical school, a model farm, a harbour fortravellers, and a fortified castle. At this period, the Prior, John deAkecliff, or Oakcliff, was an excellent man, a great friend of Sir DavidDrummond, and much disliked and persecuted by the House of Albany, sothat there was little doubt that this would be the first refuge thoughtof by Sir David's followers. Accordingly Malcolm and his companions rode up to the chief gateway, agrand circular archway, with all the noble though grotesque mouldings, zigzag and cable, dog-tooth and parrot-beak, visages human and diabolic, wherewith the Norman builders loved to surround their doorways. Thedoors were of solid oak, heavily guarded with iron, and from a littlewicket in the midst peered out a cowled head, and instantly ensued theexclamation-- 'Benedicite! Welcome, my Lord Malcolm! Ah! but this will ease the heartof the Tutor of Glenuskie!' 'Ah! then he is here?' cried Malcolm. 'Here, Sir, but in woful plight; borne in an hour syne by four carles whosaid you had been set upon by the Master of Albany, and sair harried, andthey say the Tutor doth nought but wail for his bairns. How won ye outof his hands, my Lord?' 'Thanks to this good knight, ' said Malcolm; and the gate was opened, andthe new-comers dismounted to pass under the archway, which taughthumility. A number of the brethren met them as they came forth into thefirst quadrangle, surrounded by a beautiful cloister, and containing whatwas called Edgar's Walls, a house raised by the good founder, for his ownlodging and that of visitors, within the monastery. It was a narrowbuilding, about thirty feet from the church, was perfectly familiar toMalcolm, who bent his steps at once thither, among the congratulations ofthe monks; and Lilias was not prevented from accompanying him thus farwithin the convent, but all beyond the nave of the church was forbiddenground to her sex, though the original monastery destroyed by the Daneshad been one of the double foundations for monks and nuns. Entering the building, the brother and sister hastily crossed a sort ofouter hall to a chamber where Sir David lay on his bed, attended by thePrior Akecliff and the Infirmarer. The glad tidings had already reachedhim, and he held out his hands, kissed and blessed his restored charges, and gave thanks with all his heart; but there was a strange wanness uponhis face, and a spasm of severe pain crossed him more than once, though, as Lilias eagerly asked after his hurts, he called them nothing, since hehad her safe again, and then bade Malcolm summon the captive knight thathe might thank him. Sir James Stewart had been left in the hall without, to the hospitalityof the monks; he had laid aside his helmet, washed his face, and arrangedhis bright locks, and as he rose to follow Malcolm, his majestic statureand bearing seemed to befit the home of the old Scottish King. As he entered the chamber, Sir David slightly raised himself on thepillow, and, with his eyes dilating into a bewildered gaze, exclaimed, 'My liege, my dear master!' 'He raves, ' sighed Lilias, clasping Malcolm's hand in dire distress. 'No, ' muttered the sick man, sinking back. 'Good King Robert has been inhis grave many a day; his sons, woe is me!--Sir, ' recovering himself, 'pardon the error of an old dying man, who owes you more than he canexpress. ' 'Then, Sir, ' said James Stewart, 'grant me the favour of a few moments'private speech with you. I will not keep you long from him, ' he added toMalcolm and Lilias. His manner was never one to be disputed, there was an atmosphere ofobedience about the whole monastery, and the Prior added-- 'Yes, my children, it is but fitting that you should give thanks in thechurch for your unlooked-for deliverance. ' Malcolm was forced to lead Lilias away into the exquisite cross church, built in the loveliest Early English style, of which a few gracefulremnants still exist. The two young things knelt together hand in handin the lornness of their approaching desolation, neither of them havingdared to utter the foreboding upon their hearts, but feeling it all themore surely; and while the sister's spirit longed fervently after himwhose protection had been only just removed, the brother looked up to thesheltering vaults, lost in the tranquil twilight, and felt that herealone was his haven of peace, the refuge for the feeble and thefatherless. Their devotions performed, they ventured back to the outer hall, and ontheir return being notified, they were again admitted. Sir James, whohad been seated on a stool by the sick man's head, immediately rose andresigned his place to Lilias, but did not leave the room and Sir Davidthus spoke: 'Bairns, God in His mercy hath raised you up the best ofguardians in the stead of your ain poor Tutor. Malcolm, laddie, you willride the morn with this gentleman to the true head of your name, your ainKing, whom God for ever bless!' His voice quivered. 'And be it yourstudy so to profit by his example and nurture, as to do your devoir byhim for ever. ' 'Nay, father, ' cried Malcolm, 'I cannot leave you and Lily. ' 'If you call me father, do my bidding, ' said Sir David. 'Lily can besafely bestowed with the good Sisters of St. Abbs, nor while you are outof Albany's reach is the poor lassie worth his molesting; but when I amgone, your uncles of Albany and Athole become your tutors, and the Priorhas no power to save you. Only over the Border with the King is theresafety from them, and your ruin is the ruin of your sister. ' 'And, ' added Sir James, 'when the King is at liberty, or when youyourself are of age, you will return to resume the charge of your fairsister, unless some nearer protector be found. Meantime, ' he laid onehand on Malcolm's head, and with the other took out the relic which hadhad so great an effect upon Walter Stewart, 'I swear on this holy Rood ofSt. Andrew, that Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie shall be my charge, notmerely as my kinsman, but as my young brother. ' 'You hear, Malcolm, ' said Sir David. 'You will strive to merit suchgoodness. ' 'Father, ' broke out the poor boy again, 'you cannot mean to part us! Letus abide as we have been till I am of age to take my vows! I am not fitto serve the King. ' 'He is the best judge of that, ' returned Sir James. 'And, ' added Sir David, 'I tell you, lad, that I shall never be as I wasbefore, and that were I a whole man and sain, riding back to Glenuskiethe morn, I should still bless the saints and bid you gang. ' Rarely did the youth of the fifteenth century venture to question theauthority of an elder, but Malcolm was only silenced for a moment, andthough by no means understanding that his guardian believed his injuriesmortal, he threw himself upon the advice of the Prior, whom he entreatedto allow him to judge for himself, and to remain to protect his sister--hetalked boldly of protecting her after this day's exploit. But PriorAkecliff gave him no more encouragement than did his uncle. TheBenedictine vows were out of the question till he should be eighteen, andthe renunciation of the world they involved would be ruinous to Lilias, since she would become his heiress. Moreover, the Prior himself wasalmost in a state of siege, for the Regent was endeavouring to intrude onthe convent one Brother William Drake, or Drax, by his own nomination, instead of the canonical appointment emanating from Durham, and asnational feeling went with the Regent's nominee, it was by no meanscertain that the present Prior would be able to maintain his position. 'Oh, go! yes, go, dear brother, ' entreated Lilias. 'I should be farhappier to know you in safety. They cannot hurt me while you are safe. ' 'But you, Lily! What if this villain Drax have his way?' 'He could not harm her in St. Ebba's fold, ' returned the Prior. 'TheAbbess herself could not yield her; and, as you have so often been told, my young Lord, your absence is a far greater protection to your sisterthan your presence. Moreover, were the Tutor's mind at rest, there wouldbe far better hope of his recovery. ' There was no alternative, and Malcolm could not but submit. Lilias wasto be conducted before daybreak to the monastery of St. Abbs, about sixmiles off, whence she could be summoned at any time to be with her unclein Coldingham; and Malcolm was to set off at daybreak with the captiveknight, whose return to England could no longer be delayed. Poor children! while Sir James Stewart was in the Prior's chamber, theysat silent and mournful by the bedside where their guardian lay dozing, even till the bell for Matins summoned them in common with all the otherinmates of the convent; they knelt on the floor of the candle-lit church, and held each other's hands as they prayed; Lilias still the stronger andmore hopeful, while Malcolm, as he looked up at those dear familiarvaultings, felt as if he were a bird driven from its calm peaceful nestto battle with the tossing winds and storms of ocean, without one nearhim whom he had learnt to love. It was still dark when the service had ended, and Prior Akecliff cametowards them. 'Daughter, ' he said to Lilias, 'we deem it safer that youshould ride to St. Abbs ere daylight. Your palfrey is ready, the MotherAbbess is warned, and I will myself conduct you thither. ' Priors were not people to be kept waiting, and as it was reported thatthe Tutor of Glenuskie was still asleep, Lilias had to depart withouttaking leave of him. With Malcolm the last words were spoken whilecrossing the court. 'Fear not, Lily; my heart will only weary till theChurch owns me, and Patie has you. ' 'Nay, my Malcolm; mayhap, as the Prior tells me, your strength andmanhood will come in the south country. ' 'Let them, ' said Malcolm; 'I will neither cheat the Church nor Patie. ' 'It were no cheat. There never was any compact. Patie is winning hisfortune by his own sword; he would scorn--' 'Hush, Lily! When the King sees what a weakling Sir James has broughthim, he will be but too glad to exchange Patie for me, and leave me safein these blessed walls. ' But here they were under the archway, and the convoy of armed men, whomthe exigencies of the time forced the convent to maintain, were alreadymounted. Sir James stood ready to assist the lady to her saddle, andwith one long earnest embrace the brother and sister were parted, andLilias rode away with the Prior by her side, letting the tears flowquietly down her cheeks in the darkness, and but half hearing the longarguments by which good Father Akecliff was proving to her that thedecision was the best for both Malcolm and herself. By and by the dawn began to appear, the air of the March night becamesharper, and in the distance the murmur and plash of the tide was heard. Then, standing heavy and dark against the clear pale eastern sky, therearose the dark mass of St. Ebba's monastery, the parent of Coldingham, standing on the very verge of the cliff to which it has left the name ofSt. Abb's Head, upon ground which has since been undermined by the waves, and has been devoured by them. The sea, far below, calmly brightenedwith the brightening sky, and reflected the morning stars in a lucidtrack of light, strong enough to make the lights glisten red in theconvent windows. Lilias was expected, was a frequent guest, and had manyfriends there, and as the sweet sound of the Lauds came from the chapel, and while she dismounted in the court the concluding 'Amen' swelled anddied away, she, though no convent bird, felt herself in a safe home andshelter under the wing of kind Abbess Annabel Drummond, and only mournedthat Malcolm, so much tenderer and more shrinking than herself, should bedriven into the unknown world that he dreaded so much more than she did. CHAPTER III: HAL The sun had not long been shining on the dark walls of St. Ebba'smonastery, before the low-browed gate of Coldingham Priory opened to letpass the guests of the previous night. Malcolm had been kissed andblessed by his guardian, and bidden to transfer his dutiful obedience tohis new protector; and somewhat comforted by believing Sir David to bemending since last night, he had rent himself away, and was riding in thefrosty morning air beside the kinsman who had so strangely taken chargeof him, and accompanied by Sir James's tall old Scottish squire, by theEnglish groom, and by Malcolm's own servant, Halbert. For a long space there was perfect silence: and as Malcolm began todetach his thoughts from all that he had left behind, he could not helpbeing struck with the expressions that flitted over his companion'scountenance. For a time he would seem lost in some deep mournfulreverie, and his head drooped as if in sadness or perplexity; then asudden gleam would light up his face, as if a brilliant project hadoccurred to him, his lips would part, his eyes flash, he would impel hishorse forward as though leading a charge, or lift up his head withkindling looks, like one rehearsing a speech; but ever a check would comeon him in the midst, his mouth closed in dejection, his brow drewtogether in an anguish of impatience, his eyelids drooped in weariness, and he would ride on in deep reflection, till roused perhaps by theflight of a moor-fowl, or the rush of a startled roe, he would hum somegay French hunting-song or plaintive Scottish ballad. Scarcely a word had been uttered, until towards noon, on the borders of alittle narrow valley, the merry sound of bells clashed up to their ears, and therewith sounds of music. ''Tis the toon of Christ's Kirk on theGreen, ' said the squire, as Sir James looked at him for information, 'where we were to bait. Methought in Lent we had been spared thisgallimawfrey. ' ''Tis Midlent week, you pagan, ' replied Sir James. 'These good folk havecome a-mothering, and a share of their simnels we'll have. ' 'Sir, ' entreated the squire, 'were it not more prudent of you to tarrywithout, and let me fetch provisions?' 'Hoot, man, a throng is our best friend! Besides, the horses must rest. ' So saying, Sir James rode eagerly forward; Malcolm following, not withoutwonder at not having been consulted, for though kept in strict disciplineby his uncle, it had always been with every courtesy due to his rank as aking's grandson; and the cousins, from whom he had suffered, were of thesame rank with himself. Did this wandering landless knight, now he hadhim in his power, mean to disregard all that was his due? But when SirJames turned round his face sparkling with good-humour and amusement, andlaughed as he said, 'Now then for the humours of a Scottish fair!' allhis offended dignity was forgotten. The greensward was surrounded by small huts and hovels; a little oldstone church on one side, and a hostel near it, shadowed by a single tallelm, beneath which was the very centre of the village wake. Not only wasit Midlent, but the day was the feast of a local saint, in whose honourLenten requirements were relaxed. Monks and priests were there inplenty, and so were jugglers and maskers, Robin Hood and Marion, glee-menand harpers, merchants and hucksters, masterful beggars and sorners, shepherds in gray mauds with wise collies at their feet, shrewd oldcarlines with their winter's spinning of yarn, lean wolf-like bordererspeaceable for the nonce, merry lasses with tow-like locks floating fromtheir snoods, all seen by the intensely glittering sun of a clear Marchday, dry and not too cold for these hardy northern folk. Nigel, the squire, sighed in despondency; and Malcolm, who hated crowds, and knew himself a mark for the rude observations of a free-spokenpopulace, shrank up to him, when Sir James, nodding in time to the tonesof a bagpipe that was playing at the hostel door, flung his bridle toBrewster the groom, laughed at his glum and contemptuous looks, merrilyhailed the gudewife with her brown face and big silver ear-rings, seatedhimself on the bench at the long wooden table under the great garland offir-boughs, willow catkins, and primroses, hung over the boughs of thetree, crossed himself, murmured his _Benedictus benedicat_, drew hisdagger, carved a slice of the haunch of ox on the table, offered it tothe reluctant Malcolm, then helping himself, entered into conversationwith the lean friar on one side of him, and the stalwart man-at-armsopposite, apparently as indifferent as the rest of the company to thefact that the uncovered boards of the table were the only trenchers, andthe salt and mustard were taken by the point of each man's dagger fromcommon receptacles dispersed along the board. Probably the only personreally disgusted or amazed was the English Brewster, who, though toocautious to express a word of his feelings, preserved the most completesilence, and could scarcely persuade himself to taste the rude fare. Nor when the meal was over was Sir James disposed to heed the wistfullooks of his attendants, but wandered off to watch the contest in archeryat the butts, where arrow after arrow flew wide of the clout, for thestrength of Scotland did not lie in the long-bow, and Albany's edict thatshooting should be practised on Sundays and holidays had not produced asyet any great dexterity. Sir James at first laughed merrily at the extraordinary screwings ofvisage and contortions of attitude, and the useless demonstration ofeffort with which the clowns aimed their shafts and drew their bow, sometimes to find the arrow on the grass at their feet, sometimes to seeit producing consternation among the bystanders; but when he saw Brewsterstanding silently apart, viewing their efforts with a scorn visibleenough in the dead stolidity of his countenance, he murmured a bitterinterjection, and turned away with folded arms and frowning brow. Nigel again urged their departure, but at that moment the sweet notes ofa long narrative ballad began to sound to the accompaniment of a harp, and he stood motionless while the wild mournful ditty told of the crueltyof the Lady of Frendraught, and how 'Morning sun ne'er shone upon Lord John and Rothiemay. Large tears were dropping from under the hand with he veiled his emotion;and when Nigel touched his cloak to remind him that the horses wereready, he pressed the old man's hand, saying, with a sigh, 'I heard thatlast at my father's knee! It rung in my ears for many a year! Here, lad!' and dropping a gold coin into the wooden bowl carried round by theblind minstrel's attendant, he was turning away, when the glee-man, detecting perhaps the ring of the coin, broke forth in stirring tones-- "It fell about the Lammas tide, When moormen win their hay, The doughty Earl of Douglas rode Into England to catch a prey. " Again he stood transfixed, beating time with his hand, his eyes beaming, his hips moving as he followed the spirit-stirring ballad; and then, asDouglas falls, and is laid beneath the bracken bush, unseen by his men, and Montgomery forces Hotspur to yield, not to him, but 'to the bracken bush That grows upon the lily lea, ' he sobbed without disguise; and no sooner was the ballad ended than hesprang forward to the harper, crying, 'Again, again; another gold crownto hear it again!' 'Sir, ' entreated Nigel, 'remember how much hangs on your speed. ' 'The ballad I _must_ have, ' exclaimed Sir James, trying to shake him off. 'It moves the heart more than aught I ever heard! How runs it?' '_I_ know the ballad, ' said Malcolm, half in impatience, half incontempt. 'I could sing every word of it. Every glee-man has it. ' 'Nay--hear you, Sir--the lad can sing it, ' reiterated Nigel; and SirJames, throwing the promised guerdon to the minstrel, let himself be ledaway to the front of the inn; but there was a piper, playing to a groupof dancers, and as if his feet could not resist the fascination, SirJames held out his hand to the first comely lass he saw disengaged, andin spite of the steel-guarded boots that he wore, answered foot for foot, spring for spring, to the deft manoeuvres of her shoeless feet, withequal agility and greater grace. Nigel frowned more than ever at thisexhibition, and when the knight had led his panting partner to a seat, and called for a tankard of ale for her refreshment, he remonstrated moreseriously still. 'Sir, the gates of Berwick will be shut. ' 'The days lengthen, man. ' 'And who knows if some of yon land-loupers be not of Walter Stewart'smeine? Granted that they ken not yourself, that lad is only tooken-speckle. Moreover, you ye made free enough with your siller to setthe haill crew of moss-troopers on our track. ' 'Twenty mile to Berwick-gate, ' said Sir James, carelessly; 'nor need youever look behind you at jades like theirs. Nay, friend, I come, sinceyou grudge me for once the sight of a little wholesome glee among my ownpeople. My holiday is dropping from me like sands in an hour-glass!' He mounted, however, and put his horse to as round a pace as could bemaintained by the whole party with out distress; nor did he again breaksilence for many miles. At the gates of Berwick, then in English hands, be gave a pass-word, andwas admitted, he bade Nigel conduct Lord Malcolm to an inn, explainingthat it was his duty to present himself to the governor; and, beingdetained to sup with him, was seen no more till they started the nextmorning. The governor rode out with them some ten miles, with a strongguard of spearmen; and after parting with him they pushed on to thesouth. After the first day's journey, Malcolm was amazed to see Sir James mountwithout any of his defensive armour, which was piled on the spare horse;his head was covered by a chaperon, or flat cap with a short curtain toit, and his sword was the only weapon he retained. Nigel was also nearlyunarmed, and Sir James advised Malcolm himself to lay aside the lighthawberk he wore; then, at his amazed look, said, 'Poor lad! he never sawthe day when he could ride abroad scathless. When will the breadth ofScotland be as safe as these English hills?' He was very kind to his young companion, treating him in all things likea guest, pointing out what was worthy of note, and explaining what wasnew and surprising. Malcolm would have asked much concerning the King, to whom he was bound, but these questions were the only ones Sir Jamesput aside, saying that his kinsman would one day learn that it illbeseemed those who were about a king's person to speak of him freely. One night was spent at Durham, the parent of Coldingham, and here Malcolmfelt at home, far more grand as was that mighty cathedral institution. There it stood, with the Weir encircling it, on its own fair thoughmighty hill, with all the glory of its Norman mister and lovelyLady-chapel; yet it seemed to the boy more like a glorified Coldinghamthan like a strange region. 'The peace of God rests on the place, ' he said, when Sir James asked histhoughts as he looked back at the grand mass of buildings. 'These arethe only spots where the holy and tender can grow, like the Palestinelilies sheltered from the blast in the Abbot's garden at Coldingham. ' 'Nay, lad, it were an ill world did lilies only grow in abbots' gardens. ' 'It is an ill world, ' said Malcolm. 'Let us hear what you say in a month's time, ' replied the knight, lightly: then dreaming over the words. A few days more, and they were riding among the lovely rock and woodlandscenery of Yorkshire, when suddenly there leaped from behind a bush threeor four young men, with a loud shout of 'Stand. ' 'Reivers!' thought Malcolm, sick with dismay, as the foremost grasped SirJames's bridle; but the latter merely laughed, saying, 'How now, Hal! bethese your old tricks?' 'Ay, when such prizes are errant, ' said the assailant and Sir James, springing from his horse, embraced him and his companion with acordiality that made Malcolm not a little uneasy. Could he have beenkidnapped by a false Englishman into a den of robbers for the sake of hisransom? 'You are strict to your time, ' said the chief robber. 'I knew you wouldbe. So, when Ned Marmion came to Beverley, and would have us to see hishunting at Tanfield, we came on thinking to meet you. Marmion here has anooning spread in the forest; ere we go on to Thirsk, where I have amatter to settle between two wrong-headed churls. How has it been withyou, Jamie? you have added to your meine. ' 'Ah, Hal! never in all your cut-purse days did you fall on such anemprise as I have achieved. ' 'Let us hear, ' said Hal, linking his arm in Sir James's, who turned for amoment to say, 'Take care of the lad, John; he is a young kinsman ofmine. ' 'Kinsman!' thought Malcolm; 'do all wandering Stewarts claim kin to theblood royal?' but then, as he looked at Sir James's stately head, he feltthat no assumption could be unbecoming in one of such a presence, and sokind to himself; and, ashamed of the moment's petulance, dismounted, and, as John said, 'This is the way to our noon meat, ' he let himself beconducted through the trees to a glade, sheltered from the wind, where aLenten though not unsavoury meal of bread, dried fish, and eggs was laidout on the grass, in a bright warm sunshine; and Hal, declaring himselfto have a hunter's appetite, and that he knew Jamie had been starved inScotland, and was as lean as a greyhound, seated himself on the grass, and to Malcolm's extreme surprise, not to say disgust, was served by LordMarmion on the knee and with doffed cap. While the meal was being eaten, Malcolm studied the strangers. LordMarmion was a good-humoured, hearty-looking young Yorkshireman, but theother two attracted his attention far more. They were evidentlybrothers, one perhaps just above, the other just below, thirty; both ofthe most perfect mould of symmetry, activity, and strength, thoughperhaps more inclining to agility than robustness. Both werefair-complexioned, and wore no beard; but John was the paler, graver, andmore sedate, and his aquiline profile had an older look than that borneby Hal's perfectly regular features. It would have been hard to definewhat instantly showed the seniority of his brother, for the clearness ofhis colouring--bright red and white like a lady's--his short, well-moulded chin, and the fresh earnestness and animation of hiscountenance, gave an air of perpetual youth in spite of the scar of anarrow on the cheek which told of at least one battle; but there werethose manifestations of being used to be the first which are the evidenttokens of elder sonship, and the lordly manner more and more impressedMalcolm. He was glad that his own Sir James was equal in dignity, aswell as superior in height, and he thought the terrible red lightning ofthose auburn eyes would be impossible to the sparkling azure eyes of theEnglishman, steadfast, keen, and brilliant unspeakably though they were;but so soon as Sir James seemed to have made his explanation, the lookwas most winningly turned on him, a hand held out, and he was thusgreeted: 'Welcome, my young Prince Malcolm; I am happy that your cousinthinks so well of our cheer, that he has brought you to partake it. ' 'His keeper, Somerset, ' thought Malcolm, as he bowed stiffly; 'he seemsto treat me coolly enough. I come to serve my King, ' he said, but he wasscarcely heard; for as Hal unbuckled his sword before sitting down on thegrass, he thrust into his bosom a small black volume, with which heseemed to have been beguiling the time; and John exclaimed-- 'There goes Godfrey de Bulloin. I tell you, Jamie, 'tis well you arecome! Now have I some one to speak with. Ever since Harry borrowed myLady of Westmoreland's book of the Holy War, he has not had a word tofling at me. ' 'Ah!' said Sir James, 'I saw a book, indeed, of the Holy Land! It wouldtempt him too much to hear how near the Border it dwells! What was itnamed, Malcolm?' 'The "Itinerarium of Adamnanus, "' replied Malcolm, blushing at the suddenappeal. 'Ha! I've heard of it, ' cried the English knight. 'I sent to half theconvent libraries to beg the loan when Gilbert de Lannoy set forth forthe survey of Palestine. Does the Monk of Iona tell what commodity oflanding there may be on the coast?' Malcolm had the sea-port towns at his fingers' ends, and having in thehard process of translation, and reading and re-reading one of the fewbooks that came into his hands, nearly mastered the contents, he was ableto reply with promptness and precision, although with much amazement, for 'Much he marvelled a knight of pride Like book-bosomed priest should ride;' nor had he ever before found his accomplishments treated as aught butmatters of scorn among the princes and nobles with whom he hadoccasionally been thrown. 'Good! good!' said Sir Harry at last. 'Well read, and clearly called tomind. The stripling will do you credit, James. Where have you studied, fair cousin?' Cousin! was it English fashion to make a cousin of everybody? Butgentle, humble Malcolm had no resentment in him, and felt gratified atthe friendly tone of so grand and manly-looking a knight. 'At home, ' heanswered, 'with a travelling scholar who had studied at Padua and Paris. ' 'That is where you Scots love to haunt! But know you how they are servedthere? I have seen the gibbet where the Mayor of Paris hung two clerks'sons for loving his daughters over well!' 'The clerks' twa sons of Owsenford that were foully slain!' criedMalcolm, his face lighting up. 'Oh, Sir, have you seen their gibbet?' 'What? were they friends of yours?' asked Hal, much amused, and shakinghis head merrily at Sir James. 'Ill company, I fear--' 'Only in a ballad, ' said Malcolm, colouring, 'that tells how at Yuletidethe ghosts came to their mother with their hats made of the birk thatgrew at the gates of Paradise. ' 'A rare ballad must that be!' exclaimed Hal. 'Canst sing it? Or are youweary?--Marmion, prithee tell some of the fellows to bring my harp fromthe baggage. ' 'His own harp is with ours, ' said Sir James; 'he will make a betterfigure therewith. ' At his sign, the attendant, Nigel, the only person besides Lord Marmionof Tanfield who had been present at the meal, besides the two Stewartsand the English brothers, rose and disappeared between the trees, beyondwhich a hum of voices, an occasional laugh, and the stamping of horsesand jingling of bridles, betokened that a good many followers were inwaiting. Malcolm's harp was quickly brought, having been slung in itscase to the saddle of Halbert's horse; and as he had used it to beguilethe last evening's halt, it did not need much tuning. Surprised as hisprincely notions were at being commanded rather than requested to sing, the sweet encouraging smile and tone of kind authority banished allhesitation in complying, and he gave the ballad of the Clerks' Twa Sonsof Owsenford with much grace and sweetness, while the weakness of hisvoice was compensated by the manlier strains with which Sir Jamesoccasionally chimed in. Then, as Harry gave full meed of appreciativepraise and thanks, Sir James said, 'Lend me thine harp, Malcolm; I havelearnt thy song now; and thou, Harry, must hear and own how far ourScottish minstrelsy exceeds thy boasted Chevy Chase. ' And forth rang in all the mellow beauty of his voice that most gloriousof ballads, the Battle of Otterburn, as much more grand than it had beenwhen he heard it from the glee-man or from Malcolm, as a magnificentvoice, patriotic enthusiasm, and cultivation and refinement, could makeit. He had lost himself and all around in the passion of the victory, the pathos of the death. But no such bright look of thanks recompensedhim. Harry's face grew dark, and he growled, 'Douglas dead? Ay, he winsmore fields so than alive! I wish you would keep my old Shrewsburyfriend, Earl Tyneman, as you call him, at home. ' ''Tis ill keeping the scholars in bounds when the master is away, 'returned Sir James. 'Well, by this time Tom has taught them how to transgress--sent them homewith the long scourge from robbing orchards in Anjou. He writes to mealmost with his foot in the stirrup, about to give Douglas and Buchan alesson. I shall make short halts and long stages south. This is too faroff for tidings. ' 'True, ' said Sir John, with a satirical curl of the lip; 'above all, whenfair ladies brook not to ink their ivory fingers. ' 'There spake the envious fiend, ' laughed the elder brother. 'John bearsnot the sight of what he will not or cannot get. ' 'I'll never be chained to a lady's litter, nor be forced to loiter tillher wimple is pinned, ' retorted John. 'Nor do I like dames with twohusbands besides. ' 'One would have cancelled the other, as grammarians tell us, ' said Harry, 'if thy charms, John, had cancelled thine hook nose! I would they had, ere her first marriage. Humfrey will burn his fingers there, and we musthasten back to look after that among other things. --My Lord Marmion, ' headded, starting hastily up, and calling to him as he stood at somedistance conversing with the Scottish Nigel, 'so please you, let us havethe horses;' and as the gentleman hastened to give the summons, he said, 'We shall make good way now. We shall come on Watling Street. Ha, Jamie, when shall we prove ourselves better men than a pack of PaganRomans, by having a set of roads fit for man or beast, of our own makinginstead of theirs half decayed? Look where I will, in England or France, their roads are the same in build--firm as the world itself, straight asarrows. An army is off one's mind when once one gets on a Roman way. I'll learn the trick, and have them from Edinburgh to Bordeaux ere tenyears are out; and then, what with traffic and converse with the world, and ready justice, neither Highland men minor Gascons will have leisureor taste for robbery. ' 'Perhaps Gascons and Scots will have a voice in the matter, ' said James, a little stiffly; and the horses being by this time brought, Sir Harrymounted, and keeping his horse near that of young Malcolm, to whom he hadevidently taken a fancy, he began to talk to him in so friendly andwinning a manner, that he easily drew from the youth the whole history ofhis acquaintance with Sir James Stewart, of the rescue of his sister, andthe promise to conduct him to the captive King of Scots, as the onlymeans of saving him from his rapacious kindred. 'Poor lad!' said Harry, gravely. 'Do you know King James, Sir?' asked Malcolm, timidly. 'Know him?' said Harry, turning round to scan the boy with his merry blueeye. 'I know him--yes; that as far as a poor Welsh knight can know hisGrace of Scotland. ' 'And, Sir, will he be good lord to me?' 'Eh! that's as you may take him. I would not be one of yonder Scotsunder his hands!' 'Has he learned to hate his own countrymen?' asked Malcolm, in an awe-stricken voice. 'Hate? I trow he has little to love them for. He is a good fellowenough, my young lord, when left to himself; but best beware. Lions in acage have strange tempers. ' A courier rode up at the moment, and presented some letters, which SirHarry at once opened and read, beckoning his brother and Sir James to hisside, while Malcolm rode on in their wake, in a state of dismay andbewilderment. Nigel and Lord Marmion were together at so great aninterval that he could not fall back on them, nor learn from them whothese brothers were. And there was something in the ironical suppressedpity with which Harry had spoken of his prospects with the King of Scots, that terrified him all the more, because he knew that Sir James and Nigelwould both hold it unworthy of him to have spoken freely of his ownsovereign with an Englishman. Would James be another Walter? and, if so, would Sir James Stewart protect him? He had acquired much affection for, and strong reliance on, the knight; but there was something unexplained, and his heart sank. The smooth line of Watling Street at length opened into the old town ofThirsk, and here bells were ringing, flags flying from the steeple, musicsounded, a mayor and his corporation in their robes rode slowly forth, crowds lined the road-side, caps were flung up, and a tremendous shoutarose, 'God save King Harry!' Malcolm gazed about more utterly discomfited. There was 'Harry, ' uprighton his horse, listening with a gracious smile, while the mayor rehearseda speech about welcome and victories, and the hopeful queen, and, whatwas still more to the purpose, tendered a huge pair of gauntlets, eachfilled to the brim, one with gold, and the other with silver pieces. 'Eh! Thanks, Master Mayor, but these gloves must be cleared, ere thereis room for me to use them in battle!' And handing the gold glove to his brother, he scattered the contents ofthe silver one far and wide among the populace, who shouted theirblessings louder than ever, and thus he reached the market-place. Thereall was set forth as for the lists, a horseman in armour on either side. 'Heigh now, Sirs, ' said Harry, 'have we not wars enough toward withoutthese mummings of vanity?' 'This is no show, my Lord King, ' returned the mayor, abashed. 'This isdeadly earnest. These are two honourable gentlemen of Yorkshire, who arecome hither to fight out their quarrel before your Grace. ' 'Two honourable foolsheads!' muttered Harry; then, raising his voice, 'Come hither, gentlemen, let us hear your quarrel. ' The two gentlemen were big Yorkshiremen, heavy-browed, and their nativeshrewdness packed far away behind a bumpkin stolidity and surliness thatbarely allowed them to show respect to the King. 'So please you, Sir, ' growled the first in his throat, 'here standsChristopher Kitson of Barrowbridge, ready to avouch himself a true man, and prove in yonder fellow's teeth that it was not a broken-kneed beastthat I sent up for a heriard to my Lord Archbishop when my father died;but that he of Easingwold is a black slanderer and backbiter. ' 'And here, ' shouted the other, 'stands honest William Trenton ofEasingwold, ready to thrust his lies down his throat, and prove on hisbody that the heriard he sent to my Lord Archbishop was a sorry jade. ' 'That were best proved by the beast's body, ' interposed time King. 'And, ' proceeded the doughty Kitson, as though repeating a lesson, 'having vainly pleaded the matter these nine years, we are come to demandlicence to fight it out, with lance, sword, and dagger, in your royalpresence, to set the matter at rest for ever. ' 'Breaking a man's head to prove the soundness of a horse!' ejaculatedHarry. 'Your licence is given, Sir King?' demanded Kitson. 'My licence is given for a combat _a l'outrance_, ' said Henry; but, asthey were about to flounder back on their big farm-horses, he raised hisvoice to a thundering sound: 'Solely on this condition, that he who slayshis neighbour, be he Trenton or Kitson, shall hang for the murder ere Ileave Thirsk. ' There was a recoil, and the mayor himself ventured to observe somethingabout the judgment of God, and 'never so seen. ' 'And I say, ' thundered Henry, and his blue eyes seemed to flame withvehement indignation, 'I say that the ordeal of battle is shamefullyabused, and that it is a taking of God's name--ay, and man's life--invain, to appeal thereto on every coxcomb's quarrel, risking the life thatwas given him to serve God's ends, not his own sullen fancy. I will havean end of such things!--And you, gentlemen, since the heriard is dead, ortoo old to settle the question, shake hands, and if you must let blood, come to France with me next month, and flesh your knives on French andScots. ' 'So please you, Sir, ' grumbled Kitson, 'there's Mistress Agnes ofMineshull; she's been in doubt between the two of us these five years, and she'd promised to wed whichever of us got the better. ' 'I'll settle her mind for her! Whichever I find foremost among theFrench, I'll send home to her a knight, and with better sense to bootthan to squabble for nine years as to an old horse. ' He then dismounted, and was conducted into the town-hall, where a banquetwas prepared, taking by the hand Sir James Stewart, and followed by hisbrother John, and by Malcolm, who felt as though his brain were turning, partly with amazement, partly with confusion at his own dulness, as heperceived that not only was the free-spoken Hal, Henry of Monmouth, Kingof England, but that his wandering benefactor, the captive knight, whoseclaim of kindred he had almost spurned, was his native sovereign, Jamesthe First of Scotland. CHAPTER IV: THE TIDINGS OF BEAUGE Malcolm understood it at last. In the great chamber where he was biddento wait within 'Nigel' till 'Sir James' came from a private conferencewith 'Harry, ' he had all explained to him, but within a curtness andbrevity that must not be imitated in the present narrative. The squire Nigel was in fact Sir Nigel Baird, Baron of Bairdsbrae, thegentleman to whom poor King Robert II. Had committed the charge of hisyoung son James, when at fourteen he had been sent to France, nominallyfor education, but in reality to secure him from the fate of his brotherRothsay. Captured by English vessels on the way, the heir of Scotland had been toovaluable a prize to be resigned by the politic Henry IV. , who had lodgedhim at Windsor Castle, together with Edmund Mortimer, earl of March, andplaced both under the nominal charge of the Prince of Wales, a youth of afew years older. Unjust as was the detention, it had been far fromsevere; the boys had as much liberty as their age and recreationrequired, and received the choicest training both in the arts of war andpeace. They were bred up in close intercourse with the King's own foursons, and were united with them by the warmest sympathy. In fact, since usurpation had filled Henry of Lancaster's mind withdistrust and jealousy, his eldest son had been in no such enviableposition as to be beyond the capacity of fellow-feeling for the royalprisoner. Of a peculiarly frank, open, and affectionate nature, young Henry had sowarmly loved the gentle and fascinating Richard II. , that his trust inthe father, of whom he had seen little in his boyhood, had received asevere shock through Richard's fate. Under the influence of a new, suspicious, and avaricious wife, the King kept his son as much at adistance as possible, chiefly on the Welsh marches, learning the art ofwar under Hotspur and Oldcastle; and when the father and son were broughttogether again, the bold, free bearing and extraordinary ability of thePrince filled the suspicious mind of the King with alarm and jealousy. Tokeep him down, give him no money, and let him gain no influence, was thenarrow policy of the King; and Henry, chafing, dreaming, feeling theinjustice, and pining for occupation, shared his complaints within James, and in many a day-dream restored him freely to his throne, and togetherredressed the wrongs of the world. Meantime, James studied deep inpreparation, and recreated himself with poetry, inspired by the charms ofJoan Beaufort, the lovely daughter of the King's legitimatized brother, the Earl of Somerset; while Henry persisted in a boy's passionate love toKing Richard's maiden widow, Isabel of France. Entirely unrequited ashis affection was, it had a beneficial effect. Next after his deep senseof religion, it kept his life pure and chivalrous. He was for everfaithful to his future wife, even when Isabel had been returned toFrance, and his romantic passion had fixed itself on her younger sisterCatherine, whom he endowed in imagination with all he had seen orsupposed in her. Credited with every excess by the tongue of his stepmother, too active-minded not to indulge in freakish sports and experiments in life veryastounding to commonplace minds, sometimes when in dire distress evenhelping himself to his unpaid allowance from his father's mails, andalways with buoyant high spirits and unfailing drollery that scandalizedthe grave seniors of the Court, there is full proof that Prince Hal everkept free from the gross vices which a later age has fancied inseparablyconnected with his frolics; and though always in disgrace, the vexationof the Court, and a by-word for mirth, he was true to the grand ideal hewas waiting to accomplish, and never dimmed the purity and loftiness ofhis aim. That little band of princely youths, who sported, studied, laughed, sang, and schemed in the glades of Windsor, were strangelybrought together--the captive exiled King, the disinherited heir of therealm, and the sons of the monarch who held the one in durance andoccupied the throne of the other; and yet their affection had all thefrank delight of youthful friendship. The younger lads were in morefavour with their father than was the elder. Thomas was sometimespreferred to him in a mortifying manner, John's grave, quiet natureprevented him from ever incurring displeasure, and Humfrey was the spoiltpet of the family; but nothing could lessen Harry's large-minded love ofhis brothers; and he was the idol and hero of the whole young party, whoimplicitly believed in his mighty destinies as a renovator of the world, the deliverer of Jerusalem, and restorer of the unity and purity of theChurch. 'Harry the Fifth was crowned, ' and with the full intention of carryingout his great dream. But his promise of releasing James became matter ofquestion. The House of Albany, who held the chief power in Scotland, hadbound Henry IV. Over not to free their master; and it was plain that tosend him home before his welcome was ensured would be but tossing him ontheir spears. In vain James pleaded that he was no boy, and was able toprotect himself; and vowed that when the faithful should rally round hisstandard, he would be more than a match for his enemies; or that if not, he would rather die free than live in bondage. Henry would not listen, and insisted upon retaining him until he should himself be at leisure tobring him home with a high hand, utterly disregarding his assurance thatthis would only be rendering him in the eyes of his subjects anotherdespised and hated Balliol. Deeming himself a divinely-appointed redresser of wrongs, Henry wasalready beginning on his great work of purifying Europe in preparationfor his mighty Crusade; and having won that splendid victory which laiddistracted France at his feet, he only waited to complete the conquest asthoroughly and rapidly as might be; and, lest his grand purpose should beobstructed, this great practical visionary, though full of kindness andgenerosity, kept in thraldom a whole troop of royal and noble captives. He had, however, been so far moved by James's entreaties, as to consentthat when he himself offered his devotions at the shrine of St. John ofBeverley, the native saint who shared with the two cordwainers hisgratitude for the glories of 'Crispin Crispian's day, ' his prisonershould, unknown to any save the few who shared the pilgrimage, push on toreconnoitre his own country, and judge for himself, having first sworn toreveal himself to no one, and to avoid all who could recognize him. Jameshad visited Glenuskie within a special view to profiting by the wisdom ofSir David Drummond, and had then been at Stirling, Edinburgh, and Perth. On his way back, falling in with Malcolm in his distress, he hadconceived the project of taking him to England; and finding himselfalready more than half recognized by Sir David, had obtained his mostgrateful and joyous consent. In truth, James's heart had yearned to hisyoung cousin, his own situation had become much more lonely of late; forHenry was no longer the comrade he had once been, since he had become akeeper instead of a fellow-sufferer. It was true that he did his best toforget this by lavishing indulgences on his captive, and insisting onbeing treated on terms of brotherly familiarity; but though histranscendent qualities commanded love, the intimacy could be but asemblance of the once equal friendship. Moreover, that conspiracy whichcost the life of the Earl of Cambridge had taught James that cautiousreserve was needed in dealing with even his old friends the princes, soeasily might he be accused of plotting either with Henry's immediate heiror with the Mortimers; and, in this guarded life, he had hailed withdelight the opportunity of taking to himself the young orphan cousin ofkindred blood, of congenial tastes, and home-like speech, whom he mighttreat at once as a younger brother and friend, and mould by and by into atrusty counsellor and assistant. That peculiar wistfulness andgentleness of Malcolm's look and manner, together with the refinement andintellect apparent to all who conversed with him without alarming him, had won the King's heart, and made him long to keep the boy with him. Asto Malcolm's longing for the cloister, he deemed it the result of theweakly health and refined nature which shrank from the barbarism of theouter world, and he thought it would pass away under shelter from therude taunts of the fierce cousins, at a distance from the well-meaningexhortations of the monks, and at the spectacle of brave and active menwho could also be pious, conscientious, and cultivated. In the renewedsojourn at Windsor which James apprehended, the training of such a youthas Malcolm of Glenuskie would be no small solace. By the time Malcolm had learnt as much of all this as Sir Nigel Bairdknew, or chose to communicate, the King entered the room. He flunghimself on his knees, exclaiming, with warm gratitude, as he kissed theKing's hand, 'My liege, I little kenned--' 'I meant thee to ken little, ' said James, smiling. 'Well, laddie, wiltthou share the prisoner's cell?--Ay, Bairdsbrae, you were a true prophet. Harry will do all himself, and will not hear of losing me to deal with myown people at my own gate. No, no, he'll have me back with Southron bowsand bills, so soon as this small trifle of France lies quiet in hisgrasp! I had nearly flung back my parole in his face, and told him thatno English sword should set me on the Bruce's throne; but there issomething in Harry of Monmouth that one _must_ love, and there aremoments when to see and hear him one would as soon doubt the commissionof an angel with a flaming sword. ' 'A black angel!' growled Sir Nigel. 'Scoff and chafe, Baird, but look at his work. Look at Normandy, freedfrom misrule and exaction, in peace and order. Look at this land. Wasever king so loved? Or how durst he act as he did this day?' 'Nay, an it were so at home, ' said Baird, 'I had as lief stay here aswhere a man is not free to fight out his own feud. Even this sacklesscallant thought it shame to see two honest men baulked. ' 'Poor Scotland!' sighed James. 'Woe is the land where such thoughts comereadiest to gray-haired men and innocent boys. I tell you, cousin, thisprecious right is the very cause that our poor country is so lawless andbloody, that yon poor silly sparrow would fain be caged for fear of thekites and carrion-crows. ' 'Alack, my Lord, let me but have my way. I cannot fight! Let PatrickDrummond have my sister and my lands, and your service will be far betterdone, ' said Malcolm. 'I know all that, ' said the King, kindly. 'There is time enough forsettling that question; and meantime you will not be spoilt for monk orpriest by cheering me awhile in my captivity. I need you, laddie, ' meadded, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, with all the instinctivefascination of a Stewart. 'I lack a comrade of my own blood, for I amall alone!' 'Oh, Sir!' and Malcolm, looking into his face, saw it full of tenderness. 'Books and masters you shall have, ' continued James, 'such as for churchor state, cathedral, cloister, or camp, shall render you the meeterprince; and I pass you my royal word, that if at full age the cowl beyour choice, I will not gainsay you. Meantime, abide with me, and be theyoung brother I have yearned for. ' The King threw his arms round Malcolm, who felt, and unconsciouslymanifested, a strange bliss in that embrace, even while fixed in hisdetermination that nothing should make him swerve from his chosen path, nor render him false to his promise to Patrick and Lilias. It was astrange change, from being despised and down-trodden by fierce cousins, or only fondled, pitied, and treated with consideration by his ownnearest and dearest friends, to be the chosen companion of a king, and_such_ a king. Nor could it be a wile of Satan, thought Malcolm, sinceJames still promised him liberty of choice. He would ask counsel of apriest next time he went to confession; and in the meantime, in the fulltide of gratitude, admiration, and affection, he gave himself up to theenjoyment of his new situation, and of time King's kindness andsolicitude. This was indeed absolutely that of an elder brother; for, observing that Malcolm's dress and equipments, the work of Glenuskielooms, supplemented by a few Edinburgh purchases, was uncouth enough toattract some scornful glances from the crowd who came out to welcome theroyal entrance into York the next day, he instantly sent Brewster insearch of the best tailor and lorimer in the city, and provided sohandsomely for the appearance of young Glenuskie, his horse, and hisattendants, that the whole floor of their quarters was strewn withdoublets, boots, chaperons, and gloves, saddles, bridles, and spurs, whenthe Duke of Bedford loitered into the room, and began to banter James forthus (as he supposed) pranking himself out to meet the lady of his love;and then bemoaned the fripperies that had become the rage in their oncebachelor court, vowing, between sport and earnest, that Hal was soenamoured of his fair bride, that anon the conquest of France would beleft to himself and his brother, Tom of Clarence; while James retorted bythrusts at Bedford's own rusticity of garb, and by endeavouring to forceon him a pair of shoes with points like ram's horns, as a specialpassport to the favour of Dame Jac--a lady who seemed to be the object ofDuke John's great distaste. Suddenly a voice was heard in the gallery of the great old mansion wherethey were lodged. 'John! John! Here!--Where is the Duke, I say?' Itwas thick and husky, as with some terrible emotion; and the King and Dukehad already started in dismay before the door was thrown open, and KingHenry stood among them, his face of a burning red. 'See here, John!' he said, holding out a letter; and then, with an accentof wrathful anguish, and a terrible frown, he turned on James, exclaiming, 'I would send you to the Tower, Sir, did I think you had ahand in this!' Malcolm trembled, and sidled nearer his prince; while James, with anequally fierce look, replied, 'Hold, Sir! Send me where you will, butdare not dishonour my name!' Then changing, as he saw the exceedinggrief on Henry's brow, and heard John's smothered cry of dismay, 'ForHeaven's sake, Harry, what is it?' 'This!' said Henry, less loudly, less hotly, but still with an agony ofindignation: 'Thomas is dead--and by the hand of two of your traitorScots!' 'Murdered!' cried James, aghast. 'Murdered by all honest laws of war, but on the battlefield, ' said Henry. 'Your cousin of Buchan and old Douglas fell on my brave fellows atBeauge, when they were spent with travel to stop the robberies in Anjou. They closed in with their pikes on my brave fellows, took Somersetprisoner, and for Thomas, while he was dealing with a knight namedSwinton in front, the villain Buchan comes behind and cleaves his head intwain; and that is what you Scots call fighting!' 'It was worthy of a son of Albany!' said James. 'Would that vengeancewere in my power!' 'Ay, you loved him!' said Henry, grasping James's hand, his passionsoftened into a burst of tears, as he wrung his prisoner's hand. 'Nay, who did not love him, my brave, free-hearted brother? And that I--Ishould have dallied here and left him to bear the brunt, and be cut offby you felon Scots!' And he hid his face, struggling within an agony ofheart-rending grief, which seemed to sway his whole tall, powerful frameas he leant against the high back of a chair; while John, together withJames, was imploring him not to accuse himself, for his presence had beenneedful at home; and, to turn the tenor of his thought, James inquiredwhether there were any further disaster. 'Not as yet, ' said Henry; 'there is not a man left in thatheaven-abandoned crew who knows how to profit by what they have got! butI must back again ere the devil stir them up a man of wit!--And you, Sir, can you take order with these heady Scots?' 'From Windsor? no, ' said James; 'but set me in the saddle, let me learnwar under such a captain as yourself, and maybe they will not take thefield against me; or if they do, the slayer of Clarence shall rue it. ' 'Be it so, ' said Henry, wringing his hand. 'You shall with me to France, Jamie, and see war. The Scots should flock to the Lion rampant, andwithout them the French are mo better than deer, under the fool andmurderer they call Dauphin. Yet, alas! will any success give me back mybrother--my brother, the brave and true?' he added, weeping again withintime _abandon_ of an open nature and simple age. 'It was for my sins, myforgetfulness of my great work, that this has come on me. --Ho, Marmion!carry these tidings from me to the Dean; pray him that the knell betolled at the Minster, and a requiem sung for my brother and all who fellwith him. We will be there ourselves, and the mayor must hold us excusedfrom his banquet; these men are too loyal not to grieve for their King. ' And, with his arm round the neck of his brother John, Henry left theroom; and before another word could be said, Sir Nigel was there, havingonly retired on the King's entrance. The news was of course all over thehouse, and with an old attendant's freedom he exclaimed, 'So, Sir, theEnglish have found tough cummers at last!' 'Not too honourably, ' said James, sadly. 'Hout, would not the puir loons be glad enow of any gate of coming by aclout at the man's brother that keeps you captive!' 'They have taken away one of those I loved best!' said James. 'I'm no speaking ill of the lad Clarence himself, ' said Nigel; 'he was abraw youth, leal and bold, and he has died in his helm and spurs, as agood knight should. I'd wish none of these princes a waur ending. Moreover, could Swinton have had the wit to keep him living, he'd havebeen a bonnie barter for you, my Lord; but ony way the fight was agallant one, and the very squire that brought the tidings cannot denythat our Scots fought like lions. ' 'Would Douglas but so fight in any good quarrel!' sighed the King. 'Butwhat are you longing to ask, Malcolm? Is it for your kinsman Patrick? Ifear me that there is little chance of your hearing by name of him. ' 'I wot not, ' said Sir Nigel; 'I did but ask for that hare-brained youngcousin of mine, Davie Baird, that must needs be off on this journey toFrance; and the squire tells me he was no herald, to be answerable forthe rogues that fought on the other side. ' 'We shall soon see for ourselves, ' said James; 'I am to make thiscampaign. ' 'You! you, my liege! Against your own ally, and under the standard ofEngland! Woe's me, how could ye be so lost!' James argued on his own conviction that the true France was with poorCharles VI. , and that it was doing the country no service to prolong theresistance of the Armagnacs and the Dauphin, who then appeared merepartisans instead of patriots. As to fighting under the English banner, no subjection was involved in an adventurer king so doing: had not theKing of Bohemia thus fought at Crecy? and was not the King of Sicily withthe French army? Moreover, James himself felt the necessity of gainingsome experience in the art of war. Theoretically he had studied it withall his might, from Caesar, Quintus Curtius, and that favourite modernauthority, the learned ecclesiastic, Jean Pave, who was the Vauban of thefifteenth century; and he had likewise obtained greedily all theinformation he could from Henry himself and his warriors; but all thishad convinced him that if war was to be more than a mere raid, conductedby mere spirit and instinct, some actual apprenticeship was necessary. Even for such a dash, Henry himself had told him that he would find hisbook-knowledge an absolute impediment without some practice, and wouldprobably fail for that very reason when opposed to tough old seasonedwarriors. And, prudence apart, James, at five-and-twenty, absolutelyglowed with shame at the thought that every one of his companions hadborne arms for at least ten years past, while his arrows had no mark butthe target, his lances had all been broken in the tilt-yard. It was thisargument that above all served to pacify old Bairdsbrae; though heconfessed himself very uneasy as to the prejudice it would create inScotland, and so evidently loathed the expedition, that James urged onhim to return to Scotland, instead of continuing his attendance. Therewas no fear but that his ransom would be accepted, and he had been absenttwelve years from his home. 'No, no, my Lord; I sware to your father that I'd never quit you till Ibrought you safe home again, and, God willing, I'll keep my oath. Butwhat's this puir callant to do, that you were set upon rearing upon yourbooks at Windsor?' 'He shall choose, ' said James. 'Either he shall study at the learneduniversity at Oxford or at Paris, or he shall ride with me, and see howcities and battles are won. Speak not yet, cousin; it takes many monthsto shake out the royal banner, and you shall look about you ere deciding. Now give me yonder black cloak; they are assembling for the requiem. ' Malcolm, as he followed his king, was not a little amazed to see thatHenry, the magnificent victor, was wrapped in a plain black sergegarment, his short dark hair uncovered, his feet bare; and that onarriving at the Minster he threw himself on his knees, almost on hisface, before the choir steps, there remaining while the _De profundis_and the like solemn and mournful strains floated through the darkvaultings above him, perhaps soothing while giving expression to theagony of his affliction, and self-accusation, not for the devastation ofthe turbulent country of an insane sovereign, but for his having relaxedin the mighty work of renovation that he had imposed on himself. Even when the service was ended, the King would not leave the Minster. Helifted himself up to bid Bedford and his companions return; but forhimself, he intended to remain and confess, in preparation for being'houselled' at the Mass for the dead early the next morning, beforehastening on the southern journey. Was this, thought the bewildered Malcolm as he fell asleep, the godlessatmosphere he had been used to think all that was not Glenuskie orColdingham--England above all? Indeed, in the frosty twilight of the spring morning, though Henry wasnow clad in his usual garb, sleeplessness, sorrow, and fasting made himas wan and haggard as any ascetic monk; his eyes were sunken, and hisclosed lips bore a stern fixed expression, which scarcely softened evenwhen the sacrificial rite struck the notes of praise; and though a lightcame into his eye, it was rather the devotion of one who had offeredhimself, than the gleam of hopeful exultation. The horses stood saddledat the west door, for Henry was feverishly eager to reach Pontefract, where he had left his queen, and wished to avoid the delay of breakinghis fast at York, but only to snatch a meal at some country hostel on hisway. Round the horses, however, a crowd of the citizens were collected togaze; and two or three women with children in their arms made piteousentreaties for the King's healing touch for their little ones. The kindHenry waited, ungloved his hand, asked his treasurer for the gold piecesthat were a much-esteemed part of the cure, and signed to his attendantchaplain to say the Collect appointed for the rite. Fervent blessings were meantime murmured through the crowd, which brokeout into loud shouts of 'God save King Harry!' as he at length leapt intothe saddle; but at that moment, a feeble, withered old man, leaning on astaff, and wearing a bedesman's gown, peered up, and muttered to acomrade-- 'Fair-faced, quotha--fair, maybe, but not long for this world! One isgone already, and the rest will not be long after; the holy man's wordswill have their way--the death mark is on him. ' The words caught James's ear, and he angrily turned round: 'Foul-mouthedraven, peace with thy traitor croak!' but Bedford caught his arm, crying-- 'Hush! 'tis a mere bedesman;' and bending forward to pour a handful ofsilver into the beggar's cap, he said, 'Pray, Gaffer, pray--pray for thedead and living, both. ' 'So, ' said James, as both mounted, 'there's a fee for a boding traitor. ' 'I knew his face, ' said Bedford, with a shudder; 'he belonged toArchbishop Scrope. ' 'A traitor, too, ' said James. 'Nay, there was too much cause for his words. Never shall I forget theday when Scrope was put to death on this very moor on which we areentering. There sat my father on his horse, with us four boys aroundhim, when the old man passed in front of us, and looked at him with aface pitiful and terrible. "Harry of Bolingbroke, " he said, "becausethou hast done these things, therefore shall thy foes be of thine ownhousehold; the sword shall never depart therefrom, but all the increaseof thy house shall die in the flower of their age, and in the fourthgeneration shall their name be clean cut off. " The commons will have itthat at that moment my father was struck with leprosy; and struck to theheart assuredly he was, nor was he ever the same man again. I alwaysbelieved that those words made him harder upon every prank of poor Hal's, till any son save Hal would have become his foe! And see now, the oldbedesman may be in the right; poor pretty Blanche has long been in hergrave, Thomas is with her now, and Jamie, '--he lowered his voice, --'whenmen say that Harry hath more of Alexander in him than there is in othermen, it strikes to my heart to think of the ring lying on the emptythrone. ' 'Now, ' said James, 'what strikes _me_ is, what doleful bodings can comeinto a brave man's head on a chill morning before he has broken his fast. A tankard of hot ale will chase away omens, whether of bishop orbedesman. ' 'It may chase them from the mind, but will not make away with them, ' saidJohn. 'But I might have known better than to speak to you of suchthings--you who are well-nigh a Lollard in disbelief of all beyondnature. ' 'No Lollard am I, ' said James. 'What Holy Church tells me, I believedevoutly; but not in that which she bids me loathe as either craft ofdevils or of men. ' 'Ay, of which? There lies the question, ' said John. 'Of men, ' said the Scottish king; 'of men who have wit enough to lay holdof the weaker side even of a sober youth such as Lord John of Lancaster!Your proneness to believe in sayings and prophecies, in sorceries andmagic, is the weakest point of all of you. ' 'And it is the weakest point in you, James, that you will not credit uponproof, such proof as was the fulfilment of the prophecy of the place ofmy father's death. ' 'One such saying as that, fulfilled to the ear, though not in truth, ismade the plea for all this heart-sinking--ay, and what is worse, for thedurance of your father's widow as a witch, and of her brave young son, because forsooth his name is Arthur of Richemont, and some old Welshrhymester hath whispered to Harry that Richmond shall come out ofBrittany, and be king of England. ' 'Arthur is no worse off than any other captive of Agincourt, ' saidBedford; 'and I tell you, James, the day may come when you will rue yourwant of heed to timely warnings. ' 'Better rue once than pine under them all my life, and far better thanlet them betray me into deeming some grewsome crime an act of justice, asyou may yet let them do, ' said James. Such converse passed between the two princes, while King Henry rode inadvance, for the most part silent, and only desirous of reachingPontefract Castle, where he had left the young wife whose presence helonged for the more in his trouble. The afternoon set in with heavyrain, but he would not halt, although he gave free permission to any ofhis suite to do so; and James recommended Malcolm to remain, and come onthe next day with Brewster. The boy, however, disclaimed all weariness, partly because bashfulness made him unwilling to venture from under hisroyal kinsman's wing, and partly because he could not bear to let theEnglish suppose that a Scotsman and a Stewart could be afraid of weather. As the rain became harder with the evening twilight, silence sank uponthe whole troop, and they went splashing on through the deep lanes, inmud and mire, until the lights of Pontefract Castle shimmered on highfrom its hill. The gates were opened, the horses clattered in, torchescame forth, flickering and hissing in the darkness. The travellers wentthrough what seemed to Malcolm an interminable number of courts andgateways, and at length flung themselves off their horses, when Henry, striding on, mounted the steps, entered the building, and, turning thecorner of a great carved screen, he and his brother, with James andMalcolm, found themselves in the midst of a blaze of cressets and tapers, which lighted up the wainscoted part of the hall. The whole scene was dazzling to eyes coming in from the dark, and onlyafter a moment or two could Malcolm perceive that, close to the greatfire, sat a party of four, playing at what he supposed to be that Frenchgame with painted cards of which Patrick Drummond had told him, and thatthe rest seemed to be in attendance upon them. Dark eyed and haired, with a creamy ivory skin, and faultless form andfeature, the fair Catherine would have been unmistakable, save that asHenry hurried forward, the lights glancing on his jaded face, mattedhair, and soaked dress, the first to spring forward to meet him was ahandsome young man, who wrung his hand, crying, 'Ah, Harry, Harry, then'tis too true!' while the lady made scarcely a step forwards: no shade ofcolour tinged her delicate cheek; and though she did not resist hisfervent embrace, it was with a sort of recoil, and all she was heard tosay was, '_Eh, Messire, vos bottes sont crottees_!' 'You know all, Kate?' he asked, still holding her hand, and lookingafraid of inflicting a blow. 'The battle? Is it then so great a disaster?' and, seeing his amazedglance, 'The poor Messire de Clarence! it was pity of him; he was ahandsome prince. ' 'Ah, sweet, he held thee dear, ' said Henry, catching at the crumb ofsympathy. 'But yes, ' said Catherine, evidently perplexed by the strength of hisfeeling, and repeating, 'He was a _beau sieur courtois_. But surely itwill not give the Armagnacs the advantage?' 'With Heaven's aid, no! But how fares it with poor Madge--his wife, Imean?' 'She is away to her estates. She went this morn, and wished to havetaken with her the Demoiselle de Beaufort; but I forbade that--I couldnot be left without one lady of the blood. ' 'Alack, Joan--' and Henry was turning, but Catherine interrupted him. 'You have not spoken to Madame of Hainault, nor to the Duke of Orleans. Nay, you are in no guise to speak to any one, ' she added, looking withrepugnance at the splashes of mud that reached even to his waist. 'I will don a fresh doublet, sweetheart, ' said Henry, more rebuked thanseemed fitting, 'and be ready to sup anon. ' 'Supper! We supped long ago. ' 'That may be; but we have ridden long since we snatched our meal, that Imight be with thee the sooner, my Kate. ' 'That was not well in you, my Lord, to come in thus dishevelled, steamingwith wet--not like a king. You will be sick, my Lord. ' The little word of solicitude recalled his sweet tender smile ofgratitude. No fear, _ma belle_; sickness dares not touch me. ' 'Then, ' said the Queen, 'you will be served in your chamber, and we willfinish our game. ' Henry turned submissively away; but Bedford tarried an instant to say, 'Fair sister, he is sore distressed. It would comfort him to have youwith him. He has longed for you. ' Catherine opened her beautiful brown eyes in a stare of surprise andreproof at the infraction of the rules of ceremony which she had broughtwith her. John of Bedford had never seemed to her either _beau_ or_courtois_, and she looked unutterable things, to which he replied by anelevation of his marked eyebrows. She sat down to her game, utterly ignoring the other princes in theirweather-beaten condition; and they were forced to follow the King, andmake their way to their several chambers, for Queen Catherine's will waslaw in matters of etiquette. 'The proud peat! She is jealous of every word Harry speaks--even to hiscousin, ' muttered James, as he reached his own room. 'You saw her, though, --you saw her!' he added, smiling, as he laid his hand onMalcolm's shoulder. The boy coloured like a poppy, and answered awkwardly enough, 'The LadyJoan, Sir?' 'Who but the Lady Joan, thou silly lad? How say'st thou? Will notScotland forget in the sight of that fair face all those fulephantasies--the only folly I heard at Glenuskie?' 'Methinks, ' said Malcolm, looking down in sheer awkwardness, 'it wereeasier to bow to her than to King Harry's dame. She hath more ofstateliness. ' 'Humph!' said James, 'dost so serve thy courtly 'prenticeship? Nay, butin a sort I see thy meaning. The royal blood of England shows itself toone who hath an eye for princeliness of nature. ' 'Nay, ' said Malcolm, gratified, 'those dark eyes and swart locks--' 'Dark eyes--swart locks!' interrupted the King. 'His wits have gone wool-gathering. ' 'Indeed, Sir!' exclaimed Malcolm, 'I thought you meant the lady who stoodby the Queen's table, with the grand turn of the neck and the whitewimple and veil. ' 'Pshaw!' said James; 'the foolish callant! he hath taken that great brownLuxemburg nun of Dame Jac's for the Rose of Somerset. ' However, James, seeing how confounded the boy was by this momentarydispleasure, explained to him who the other persons he had seenwere--Jaqueline, the runaway Countess of Hainault in her own right, andDuchess of Brabant by marriage; Humfrey, duke of Gloucester, the King'syoung, brilliant brother; the grave, melancholy Duke of Orleans, who hadbeen taken captive at Agincourt, and was at present quartered atPontefract; the handsome, but stout and heavy-looking Earl of March;brave Lord Warwick; Sir Lewis Robsart, the old knight to whose charge theQueen had been specially committed from the moment of her betrothal; anda young, bold, gay-looking lad, of Malcolm's own age, but far taller andstouter, and with a merry, half-defiant, half-insouciant air, who hadgreatly taken his fancy, was, he was told, Ralf Percy, the second son ofSir Harry Percy. 'Of him they called Hotspur?--who was taken captive at Otterburn, whodied a rebel!' exclaimed Malcolm. 'Ay, ' said James; 'but King Harry had learnt the art of war as a boy, first under Hotspur, in Wales; nor doth he love that northern fashion ofours of keeping up feud from generation to generation. So hath herestored the eldest son to his barony, and set him to watch our Borders;and the younger, Ralf, he is training in his own school of chivalry. ' More wonders for Malcolm Stewart, who had learnt to believe it meredishonour and tameness to forgive the son for his father's deeds. Acloistered priest could hardly do so: pardon to a hostile family cameonly with the last mortal throe; and here was this warlike king forgivingas a mere matter of course! 'But, ' added James, 'you had best not speak of your bent conventwards inthe Court here. I should not like to have you called the monkling!' Malcolm crimsoned, with the resolution never to betray himself. CHAPTER V: WHITTINGTON S FEAST The next day the royal train set forth from Pontefract, and ere mounting, James presented his young kinsman to the true Joan Beaufort--fair-haired, soft-featured, blue-eyed, and with a lovely air of graciousness, as shegreeted him with a sweet, blushing, sunny smile, half that of the queenin anticipation, half that of the kindly maiden wishing to set a strangerat ease. So beautiful was she, that Malcolm felt annihilated at thethought of his blunder of last night. As they rode on, James was entirely occupied with the lady, and Malcolmwas a good deal left to himself; for, though the party was numerous, heknew no one except the Duke of Bedford, who was riding with the King andLord Warwick, in deep consultation, while Sir Nigel Baird, Lord Marmion, and the rest were in the rear. He fell into a mood of depression such ashad not come upon him since he passed the border, thinking himselfdespised by all for being ill-favoured and ill-dressed, and chafing, above all, at the gay contempt he fancied in young Ralf Percy's eye. Hebecame constantly more discontented with this noisy turmoil, and moreresolved to insist on returning to the peaceful cloister where alone hecould hide his head and be at rest. The troop halted for what they called their noon meat at the abode of ahospitable Yorkshire knight; but King Henry, in order that the goodgentleman's means should not be overtasked, had given directions thatonly the ladies and the princes should enter the house, while the rest ofthe suite should take their meal at the village inn. King James, in attending to Joan, had entirely forgotten his cousin; andMalcolm, doubtful and diffident, was looking hesitatingly at the gateway, when Ralf Percy called out, 'Ha! you there, this is our way. That isonly for the royal folk; but there's good sack and better sport downhere! I'll show you the way, ' he added, good-naturedly, softened, asmost were, by the startled, wistful, timid look. Malcolm, ashamed to say he was royal, but surprised at the patronage, wasgratefully following, when old Bairdsbrae indignantly laid his hand onthe rein. 'Not so, Sir; this is no place for you!' 'Let me alone!' entreated Malcolm, as he saw Percy's amazed look andwhistle of scorn. 'They don't want me. ' 'You will never have your place if you do not take it, ' said the oldgentleman; and leading the trembling, shrinking boy up to the door, hecontinued, 'For the honour of Scotland, Sir!' and then announcing Malcolmby his rank and title, he almost thrust him in. Fancying he detected a laugh on Ralf Percy's face, and a sneer on that ofthe stout English porter, Malcolm felt doubly wretched as he was usheredinto the hall and the buzz of talk and the confusion made by theattendance of the worthy knight and his many sons, one of whom, waitingwith better will than skill, had nearly run down the shy limpingScotsman, who looked wildly for refuge at some table. In his height ofdistress, a kindly gesture of invitation beckoned to him, and he foundhimself seated and addressed, first in French, and then in carefulforeign English, by the same lady whom he had yesterday taken for Joan ofSomerset, namely, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg. He was too much confused to look up till the piece of pasty and the winewith which the lady had caused him to be supplied were almost consumed, and it was not till she had made some observations on the journey that hebecame at ease enough to hazard any sort of answer, and then it was inhis sweet low Scottish voice, with that irresistibly attractive look ofshy wistful gratitude in his great soft brown eyes, while his un-Englishaccent caused her to say, 'I am a stranger here, like yourself, my Lord;'and at the same moment he first raised his eyes to behold what seemed tohim perfect beauty and dignity, an oval face, richly-tinted olivecomplexion, dark pensive eyes, a sweet grave mouth smiling withencouraging kindness, and a lofty brow that gave the whole face amagnificent air, not so much stately as above and beyond this world. Itmight have befitted St. Barbara or St. Katherine, the great intellectualvirgin visions of purity and holiness of the middle ages; but thekindness of the smile went to Malcolm's heart, and emboldened him toanswer in his best French, 'You are from Holland, lady?' 'Not from the fens, ' she answered. 'My home lies in the borders of theforest of Ardennes. ' And then they found that they understood each other best when she spokeFrench, and Malcolm English, or rather Scotch; and their acquaintancemade so much progress, that when the signal was again given to mount, theLady Esclairmonde permitted Malcolm to assist her to her saddle; and ashe rode beside her he felt pleased with himself, and as if Ralf Percywere welcome to look at him now. On Esclairmonde's other hand there rode a small, slight girl, whomMalcolm took for quite a child, and paid no attention to; but presentlyold Sir Lewis Robsart rode back with a message that my Lady ofWestmoreland wished to know where the Lady Alice Montagu was. A gentle, timid voice answered, 'O Sir, I am well here with Lady Esclairmonde. Praytell my good lady so. ' And therewith Sir Lewis smiled, and said, 'You could scarcely be inbetter hands, fair damsel, ' and rode back again; while Alice was stillentreating, 'May I stay with you, dear lady? It is all so strange andnew!' Esclairmonde smiled, and said, 'You make me at home here, Mademoiselle. It is I who am the stranger!' 'Ah! but you have been in Courts before. I never lived anywhere but atMiddleham Castle till they fetched me away to meet the Queen. ' For the gentle little maiden, a slender, fair-haired, childish-facedcreature, in her sixteenth year, was the motherless child and heiress ofthe stout Earl of Salisbury, the last of the Montacutes, or Montagues, who was at present fighting the King's battles in France, but had senthis commands that she should be brought to Court, in preparation forfulfilling the long-arranged contract between her and Sir Richard Nevil, one of the twenty-two children of the Earl of Westmoreland. She was under the charge of the Countess--a stately dame, with all theBeaufort pride; and much afraid of her she was, as everything that wasshy or forlorn seemed to turn towards the maiden whose countenance notonly promised kindness but protection. Presently the cavalcade passed a gray building in the midst of greenfields and orchards, where, under the trees, some black-veiled figuressat spinning. 'A nunnery!' quoth Esclairmonde, looking eagerly after it as she rodepast. 'A nunnery!' said Malcolm, encouraged into the simple confidingness of ayoung boy. 'How unlike the one where my sister is! Not a tree is nearit; it is perched upon a wild crag overhanging the angry sea, and thewinds roar, and the gulls and eagles scream, and the waves thunder roundit!' 'Yet it is not the less a haven of peace, ' replied Esclairmonde. 'Verily, ' said Malcolm, 'one knows what peace is under that cloister, where all is calm while the winds rave without. ' 'You know how to love a cloister, ' said the lady, as she heard his soft, sad tones. 'I had promised myself to make my home in one, ' said Malcolm; 'but myKing will have me make trial of the world first. And so please you, ' headded, recollecting himself, 'he forbade me to make my purpose known; sopray, lady, be so good as to forget what I have said. ' 'I will be silent, ' said Esclairmonde; 'but I will not forget, for I lookon you as one like myself, my young lord. I too am dedicated, and onlylonging to reach my cloistered haven. ' She spoke it out with the ease of those days when the monastic was asrecognized a profession as any other calling, and yet with something ofthe desire to make it evident on what ground she stood. Lady Alice uttered an exclamation of surprise. 'Yes, ' said Esclairmonde, 'I was dedicated his my infancy, and promisedmyself in the nunnery at Dijon when I was seven years old. ' Then, as if to turn the conversation from herself, she asked of Malcolmif he too had made any vow. 'Only to myself, ' said Malcolm. 'Neither my Tutor nor the Prior ofColdingham would hear my vows. ' And he was soon drawn into telling hiswhole story, to which the ladies both listened with great interest andkindness, Esclairmonde commending his resolution to leave the care of hislands and vassals to one whom he represented as so much better fitted tobear them as Patrick Drummond, and only regretting the silence King Jameshad enjoined, saying she felt that there was safety and protection inbeing avowed as a destined religious. 'And you are one, ' said Lady Alice, looking at her in wonder. 'And yetyou are with _that_ lady--' And the girl's innocent face expressed acertain wonder and disgust that no one could marvel at who had heard theFlemish Countess talk in the loudest, broadest, most hoydenish style. 'She has been my very good lady, ' said Esclairmonde; 'she has, under thesaints, saved me from much. ' 'Oh, I entreat you, tell us, dear lady!' entreated Alice. It was not areticent age. Malcolm Stewart had already avowed himself in his ownestimation pledged to a monastic life, and Esclairmonde of Luxemburg hadreasons for wishing her position and intentions to be distinctlyunderstood by all with whom she came in contact; moreover, there was acertain congeniality in both her companions, their innocence andsimplicity, that drew out confidence, and impelled her to defend herlady. 'My poor Countess, ' she said, 'she has been sorely used, and has sufferedmuch. It is a piteous thing when our little imperial fiefs go to thespindle side!' 'What are her lands?' asked Malcolm. 'Hainault, Holland, and Zealand, ' replied the lady. 'Her father wasCount of Hainault, her mother the sister of the last Duke of Burgundy--himthat was slain on the bridge of Montereau. She was married as a merebabe to the Duke of Touraine, who was for a brief time Dauphin, but hedied ere she was sixteen, and her father died at the same time. Some saythey both were poisoned. The saints forfend it should be true; but thusit was my poor Countess was left desolate, and her uncle, the Bishop ofLiege--Jean Sans Pitie, as they call him--claimed her inheritance. Youshould have seen how undaunted she was!' 'Were you with her then?' asked Alice Montagu. 'Yes. I had been taken from our convent at Dijon, when my dear brothers, to whom Heaven be merciful! died at Azincourt. My _oncles a la mode deBretagne_--how call you it in English?' 'Welsh uncles, ' said Alice. 'They are the Count de St. Pol and the Bishop of Therouenne. They cameto Dijon. In another month I should have been seventeen, and beenadmitted as a novice; but, alack! there were all the lands that camethrough my grandmother, in Holland and in Flanders, all falling to me, and Monseigneur of Therouenne, like almost all secular clergy, cannotendure the religious orders, and would not hear of my becoming a Sister. They took me away, and the Bishop declared my dedication null, and theywould have bestowed me in marriage at once, I believe, if Heaven had notaided me, and they could not agree on the person. And then my dearCountess promised me that she would never let me be given without my freewill. ' 'Then, ' said Alice, 'the Bishop did cancel your dedication?' 'Yes, ' said Esclairmonde; 'but none can cancel the dedication of myheart. So said the holy man at Zwoll. ' 'How, lady?' anxiously inquired Malcolm; 'has not a bishop power to bindand unloose?' 'Yea, ' said Esclairmonde, 'such power that if my childish promise hadbeen made without purpose or conscience thereof, or indeed if my willwere not with it, it would bind me no more, there were no sin in wedlockfor me, no broken vow. But my own conscience of my vow, and my sensethat I belong to my Heavenly Spouse, proved, he said, that it was not myduty to give myself to another, and that whereas none have a parent'sright over me, if I have indeed chosen the better part, He to whom I havepromised myself will not let it be taken from me, though I might have tobear much for His sake. And when I said in presumption that such wouldlie light on me, he bade me speak less and pray more, for I knew not thecost. ' 'He must have been a very holy man, ' said Alice, 'and strict withal. Whowas he?' 'One Father Thomas, a Canon Regular of the chapter of St. Agnes, a verysaint, who spends his life in copying and illuminating the HolyScripture, and in writing holy thoughts that verily seem to have beenbreathed into him by special inspiration of God. It was a sermon of hisin Lent, upon chastening and perplexity, that I heard when first I wassnatched from Dijon, that made me never rest till I had obtained hisghostly counsel. If I never meet him again, I shall thank Heaven forthose months at Zwoll all my life--ere the Duke of Burgundy made myCountess resign Holland for twelve years to her uncle, and we left theplace. Then, well-nigh against her will, they forced her into a marriagewith the Duke of Brabant, though he be her first cousin, her godson, anda mere rude boy. I cannot tell you how evil were the days we often hadthen. If he had been left to himself, Madame might have guided him; butill men came about him; they maddened him with wine and beer; theyexcited him to show that he feared her not; he struck her, and more thanonce almost put her in danger of her life. Then, too, his mother marriedthe Bishop of Liege, her enemy-- 'The Bishop!' 'He had never been consecrated, and had a dispensation. That marriagedeprived my poor lady of even her mother's help. All were against herthen; and for me too it went ill, for the Duke of Burgundy insisted on mybeing given to a half-brother of his, one they call Sir Boemond ofBurgundy--a hard man of blood and revelry. The Duke of Brabant was allfor him, and so was the Duchess-mother; and though my uncles would nothave chosen him, yet they durst not withstand the Duke of Burgundy. Itried to appeal to the Emperor Sigismund, the head of our house, but Iknow not if he ever heard of my petition. I was in an exceeding strait, and had only one trust, namely, that Father Thomas had told me that themore I threw myself upon God, the more He would save me from man. Butoh! they seemed all closing in on me, and I knew that Sir Boemond hadsworn that I should pay heavily for my resistance. Then one night myCountess came to me. She showed me the bruises her lord had left on herarms, and told me that he was about to banish all of us, her ladies, intoHolland, and to keep her alone to bear his fury, and she was resolved toescape, and would I come with her? It seemed to me the message ofdeliverance. Her nurse brought us peasant dresses, high stiff caps, black boddices, petticoats of many colours, and therein we dressedourselves, and stole out, ere dawn, to a church, where we knelt till theSieur d'Escaillon--the gentleman who attends Madame still--drove up in afarmer's garb, with a market cart, and so forth from Bruges we drove. Wecause to Valenciennes, to her mother; but we found that she, bypersuasion of the Duke, would give us both up; so the Sieur d'Escaillongot together sixty lances, and therewith we rode to Calais, where neverwere weary travellers more courteously received than we by LordNorthumberland, the captain of Calais. ' 'Oh, I am glad you came to us English!' cried Alice. 'Only I would ithad been my father who welcomed you. And now?' 'Now I remain with my lady, as the only demoiselle she has from hercountry; and, moreover, I am waiting in the trust that my kinsmen willgive up their purpose of bestowing me in marriage, now that I am beyondtheir reach; and in time I hope to obtain sufficient of my own goods fora dowry for whatever convent I may enter. ' 'Oh, let it be an English one!' cried Alice. 'I have learnt to breathe freer since I have been on English soil, ' saidEsclairmonde, smiling; 'but where I may rest at last, Heaven only knows!' 'This is a strange country, ' said Malcolm. 'No one seems afraid ofviolence and wrong here. ' 'Is that so strange?' asked Alice, amazed. 'Why, men would be hanged ifthey did violence!' 'I would we were as sure of justice at my home, ' sighed Esclairmonde. 'King Henry will bring about a better rule. ' 'Never doubt, ' cried Salisbury's daughter. 'When France is once subdued, there will be no more trouble, he will make your kinsmen do you right, dear demoiselle, and oh! will you not found a beauteous convent?' 'King Henry has not conquered France yet, ' was all Esclairmonde said. 'Ha!' cried the buxom Countess Jaqueline, as the ladies dismounted, 'never speak to me more, our solemn sister. When have I done worse thanlure a young cavalier, and chain him all day with my tongue?' 'He is a gentle boy!' said Esclairmonde, smiling. 'Truly he looked like a calf turned loose among strange cattle! How gathe into the hall?' 'He is of royal Scottish blood, ' said Esclairmonde 'cousin-german to KingJames. ' 'And our grave nun has a fancy to tame the wild Scots, like a second St. Margaret! A king's grandson! fie, fie! what, become ambitious, Clairette? Eh? you were so occupied, that I should have been left to noone but Monseigneur of Gloucester, but that I was discreet, and rode withmy Lord Bishop of Winchester. How he chafed! but I know better than tohave _tete-a-tetes_ with young sprigs of the blood royal!' Esclairmonde laughed good-humouredly, partly in courtesy to her hoydenmistress, but partly at the burning, blushing indignation she beheld inthe artless face of Alice Montagu. The girl was as shy as a fawn, frightened at every word from knight orlady, and much in awe of her future mother-in-law, a stiff and statelydame, with all the Beaufort haughtiness; so that Lady Westmoreland gladlyand graciously consented to the offer of the Demoiselle de Luxemburg toattend to the little maiden, and let her share her chamber and her bed. And indeed Alice Montagu, bred up in strictness and in both piety andlearning, as was sometimes the case with the daughters of the nobility, had in all her simplicity and bashfulness a purity and depth that madeher a congenial spirit with the grave votaress, whom she regarded on herside with a young girl's enthusiastic admiration for a grown woman, although in point of fact the years between them were few. The other ladies of the Court were a little in awe of the Demoiselle deLuxemburg, and did not seek her when they wished to indulge in the gossipwhose malice and coarseness she kept in check; but if they were anxious, or in trouble, they always came to her as their natural consoler; and theCountess Jaqueline, bold and hoydenish as she was, kept the license ofher tongue and manners under some shadow of restraint before her, andthough sometimes bantering her, often neglecting her counsel, evidentlyfelt her attendance a sort of safeguard and protection. The gentlemen were mostly of the opinion of the Duke of Gloucester, whosaid that the Lady Esclairmonde was so like Deborah, come out of aMystery, that it seemed to be always Passion-tide where she was; and she, moreover, was always guarded in her manner towards them, keeping hervocation in the recollection of all by her gravely and coldly courteousdemeanour, and the sober hues and fashion of her dress; but being awareof Malcolm's destination, perceiving his loneliness, and really attractedby his pensive gentleness, she admitted him to far more friendlyintercourse than any other young noble, while he revered and clung to hermuch as Lady Alice did, as protector and friend. King James was indeed so much absorbed in his own lady-love as to havelittle attention to bestow on his young cousin, and he knew, moreover, that to be left to such womanly training as ladies were bound to bestowon young squires and pages was the best treatment for the youth, who wasreally thriving and growing happier every day, as he lost his awkwardnessand acquired a freedom and self-confidence such as he could never haveimagined possible in his original brow-beaten state, though withoutlosing the gentle modesty and refinement that gave him such a charm. A great sorrow awaited him, however, at Leicester, where Easter was to bespent. A messenger came from Durham, bringing letters from Coldingham toannounce the death of good Sir David Drummond, which had taken place twodays after Malcolm had left him, all but the youth himself having wellknown that his state was hopeless. In his grief, Malcolm found his chief comforter in Esclairmonde, whokindly listened when he talked of the happy old times at Glenuskie, andof the kindness and piety of his guardian; while she lifted his mind todwell on the company of the saints; and when he knew that her thoughtswent, like his, to his fatherly friend in the solemn services connectedwith the departed, he was no longer desolate, and there was almost asweetness in the grief of which his fair saint had taken up a part. Sheshowed him likewise some vellum pages on which her ghostly father, theCanon of St. Agnes, had written certain dialogues between the DivineMaster and His disciple, which seemed indeed to have been whispered byheavenly inspiration, and which soothed and hallowed his mourning for theguide and protector of his youth. He loved to dwell on her very name, Esclairmonde--'light of the world. ' The taste of the day hung many a punand conceit upon names, and to Malcolm this--which had, in fact, beenculled out of romance--seemed meetly to express the pure radiance ofconsolation and encouragement that seemed to him to shine from her, andbrighten the life that had hitherto been dull and gloomy--nay, even togive him light and joy in the midst of his grief. At that period Courts were not much burdened with etiquette. No feudalmonarch was more than the first gentleman, and there was no rigid line ofseparation of ranks, especially where, as among the kings of the RedRose, the boundaries were so faint between the princes and the nobility;and as Catherine of Valois was fond of company, and indolently heedlessof all that did not affect her own dignity or ease, the whole Court, including some of the princely captives, lived as one large family, meeting at morning Mass in church or chapel, taking their meals incommon, riding, hunting, hawking, playing at bowls, tennis, orstool-ball, or any other pastime, in such parties as suited theirinclinations; and spending the evening in the great hall, in conversationvaried by chess, dice, and cards, recitals of romance, and music, sometimes performed by the choristers of the Royal chapel, or sometimesby the company themselves, and often by one or other of the two kings, who were both proficients as well with the voice as with the lute andorgan. Thus Malcolm had many opportunities of being with the Demoiselle ofLuxemburg: and almost a right was established, that when she sat in thedeep embrasure of a window with her spinning, he should be on thecushioned step beneath; when she mounted, he held the stirrup; and whenthe church bells were ringing, he led her by her fair fingers to herplace in the nave, and back again to the hall; and when the manchet andrere supper were brought into the hall, he mixed her wine and water, andheld the silver basin and napkin to her on bended knee, and had becomeher recognized cavalier. He was really thriving. Even the high-spiritedson of Hotspur could not help loving and protecting him. 'Have a care, ' said Ralf to a lad of ruder mould; 'I'll no more see thatlame young Scot maltreated than a girl. ' 'He is no better than a girl, ' growled his comrade; 'my little brotherDick would be more than a match for him!' 'I wot not that, ' said Percy; 'there's a drop of life and spirit at thebottom; and for the rest, when he looks up with those eyes of his, andsmiles his smile, it is somehow as if it were beneath a man to vex himwilfully. And he sees so much meaning in everything, too, that it is adozen times better sport to hear him talk than one of you fellows, whohave only wit enough to know a hawk from a heron-schaw. ' After a grave Easter-tide spent at Leicester, the Court moved toWestminster, where Henry had to meet his parliament, and obtain suppliesfor the campaign which was to revenge the death of Clarence. There was no great increase of gaiety even here, for Henry was extremelyoccupied, both with regulating matters for government during his absence, and in training the troops who began to flock to his standard; so thatthe Queen complained that his presence in England was of little serviceto her, since he never had any leisure, and there were no pastimes. 'Well, Dame, ' said Henry, gaily, 'there is one revel for you. I havepromised to knight the Lord Mayor, honest Whittington, and I hear he ispreparing a notable banquet in the Guild Hall. ' 'A city mayor!' exclaimed Queen Catherine, with ineffable disgust. 'Mybrothers would sooner cut off his _roturier_ head than dub him knight!' 'Belike, ' said Henry, dryly; 'but what kind of friends have thy brothersfound at Paris? Moreover, this Whittington may content thee as to blood. Rougedragon hath been unfolding to me his lineage of a good house inGloucestershire. ' 'More shame that he should soil his hands with trade!' said the Queen. 'See what you say when he has cased those fair hands in Spanish gloves. You ladies should know better than to fall out with a mercer. ' 'Ah!' said Duke Humfrey, 'they never saw the silks and samites wherewithhe fitted out my sister Philippa for the Swedes! Lucky the bride whosewardrobe is purveyed by honest Dick!' 'Is it not honour enough for the mechanical hinds that we wear theirstuffs, ' said Countess Jaqueline, 'without demeaning ourselves to eat attheir boards? The _outrecuidance_ of the rogues in the Netherlands wouldbe surpassing, did we feed it in that sort. ' ''Tis you that will be fed, Dame Jac, ' laughed Henry. 'I can tell you, their sack and their pasties, their march-pane and blanc-manger, farexceed aught that a poor soldier can set before you. ' 'Moreover, ' observed Humfrey, 'the ladies ought to see the romaunt of theCat complete. ' 'How!' cried Jaqueline, 'is it, then, true that this Vittentone is themiller's son whose cat wore boots and made his fortune?' 'I have heard my aunt of Orleans divert my father with that story, 'murmured Catherine. 'How went the tale? I thought it folly, and markedit not. What became of the cat?' 'The cat desired to test his master's gratitude, so tells Straparola, 'said the Duke of Orleans, in his dry satirical tone; 'and whereas he hadbeen wont to promise his benefactor a golden coffin and state funeral, Puss feigned death, and thereby heard the lady inform her husband thatthe old cat was dead. "_A la bonne heure_!" said the Marquis. "Take himby the tail, and fling him on the muck-heap beneath the window!"' 'Thereof I acquit Whittington, who never was thankless to man or brute, 'said King Henry. 'Moreover, his cat, or her grandchildren, must be nowin high preferment at the King of Barbary's Court. ' 'A marvellous beast is that cat, ' said James. 'When I was a child inScotland, we used to tell the story of her exchange for a freight of goldand spices, only the ship sailed from Denmark, ' 'Maybe, ' said Henry; 'but I would maintain the truth of Whittington's catwith my lance, and would gladly have no worse cause! You'll see his catpainted beside him in the Guild Hall, and may hear the tale from him, asI loved to hear him when I was a lad. "Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London town!" I told my good old friend I must have come over from France on purpose tokeep his third mayoralty. So I am for the City on Thursday; and whoeverloves good wine, good sturgeon, good gold, or good men, had best comewith me. ' Such inducements were not to be neglected, and though Queen Catherineminced and bridled, and apologized to Duchess Jaqueline for her husband'staste for low company, neither princess wished to forego the chance ofamusement; and a brilliant cavalcade set forth in full order ofprecedence. The King and Queen were first; then, to his great disgust, the King of Scots, with Duchess Jaqueline; Bedford, with Lady Somerset;Gloucester, with the Countess of March; the Duke of Orleans, with theCountess of Exeter; and Malcolm of Glenuskie found himself paired offwith his sovereign's lady-love, Joan Beaufort, and a good deal overawedby the tall horned tower that crowned her flaxen locks, as well as byknowing that her uncle, the Bishop of Winchester, the stateliest, stiffest, and most unapproachable person in all the Court, was ridingjust behind him, beside the Demoiselle de Luxemburg. Temple Bar was closed, and there was a flourish of trumpets and a parleyere the gate was flung open to admit the royal guests; but Malcolm, inhis place, could not see the aldermen on horseback, in their robes ofscarlet and white, drawn up to receive the King. All that way upHolborn, every house was hung with tapestry, and the citizens formed agorgeously-apparelled lane, shouting in unison, their greetings attunedto bursts of music from trumpets and nakers. Beautiful old St. Paul's, with the exquisite cross for open-air preachingin front, rose on their view; and before the lofty west door the princelyguests dismounted, each gentleman leading his lady up the nave to theseat prepared in such manner that he might be opposite to her. Theclergy lined the stalls, and a magnificent mass was sung, and wasconcluded by the advance of the King to the altar step, followed by afine old man in scarlet robes bordered with white fur, the collar of SS. Round his neck, and his silvery hair and lofty brow crowning a face assagacious as it was dignified and benevolent. It seemed a reversal of the ordinary ceremonial when the slender agileyoung man took in hand the sword, and laid the honour of knighthood onthe gray-headed substantial senior, whom he bade to arise Sir RichardWhittington. Jaqueline of Hainault had the bad taste to glance across toHumfrey and titter, but the Duke valued popularity among the citizens, and would not catch her eye; and in the line behind the royal ladiesthere was a sweet elderly face, beautiful, though time-worn, with blueeyes misty with proud glad tears, and a mouth trembling with tenderexultation. After the ceremony was concluded, King Henry offered his hand to the LadyMayoress, Dame Alice Whittington, making her bright tears drop in gladconfusion at his frank, hearty congratulation and warm praise of herhusband; and though the fair Catherine could have shuddered when SirRichard advanced to lead her, she was too royal to compromise her dignityby visible scorn, and she soon found that the merchant could speak muchbetter French than most of the nobles. Malcolm felt as averse as did the French princesses to burgher wealth andsplendour, and his mind had not opened to understand burgher worth andweight; and when he saw the princes John and Humfrey, and even his ownking, seeking out city dames and accosting them with friendly looks, itseemed to him a degrading truckling to riches, from which he was anxiousto save his future queen; but when he would have offered his arm to LadyJoan, he saw her already being led away by an alderman measuring at leasta yard across the shoulders; and the good-natured Earl of March, seeinghim at a loss, presented him to a round merry wife in a scarlet petticoatand black boddice, its plump curves wreathed with geld chains, who beganpitying him for having been sent to the wars so young, being, as usual, charmed into pity by his soft appealing eyes and unconscious grace; wouldnot believe his assertions that he was neither a captive nor aFrenchman;--'don't tell her, when he spoke like a stranger, and haltedfrom a wound. ' Colouring to the ears, he explained that he had never walked otherwise;whereupon her pity redoubled, and she by turns advised him to consultMaster Doctor Caius, and to obtain a recipe from Mistress--she meantDame--Alice Whittington, the kindest soul living, and, Lady Mayoress asshe was, with no more pride than the meanest scullion. Pity she had nochild--yet scarce pity either, since she and the good Lord Mayor werefather and mother to all orphans and destitute--nay, to all who had anycare on their minds. Malcolm was in extreme alarm lest he should be walked up to the LadyMayoress for inspection before all the world when they entered the GuildHall, a building of grand proportions, which, as good Mistress Boltinformed him, had lately been paved and glazed at Sir RichardWhittington's own expense. The bright new red and yellow tiles, and thestained glass of the tall windows high up, as well as the panels of thewainscot, were embellished with trade-marks and the armorial bearings ofthe guilds; and the long tables, hung with snowy napery, groaned withgold and silver plate, such as, the Duke of Orleans observed toCatherine, no citizens would dare exhibit in France to any prince ornoble, at peril of being mulcted of all, with or without excuse. On an open hearth beneath the louvre, or opening for smoke, burnt a firediffusing all around an incense-like fragrance, from the logs, composedof cinnamon and other choice woods and spices, that fed the flame. Theodour and the warmth on a bleak day of May were alike delicious; and KingHenry, after heading Dame Alice up to it, stood warming his hands andextolling the choice scent, adding: 'You spoil us, Sir Richard. How arewe to go back to the smoke of wood and peat, and fires puffed with ourown mouths, after such pampering as this--the costliest fire I have seenin the two realms?' 'It shall be choicer yet, Sir, ' said Sir Richard Whittington, who hadjust handed the Queen to her seat. 'Scarce possible, ' replied Henry, 'unless I threw in my crown, and that Icannot afford. I shall be pawning it ere long. ' Instead of answering, the Lord Mayor quietly put his hand into his furredpouch, and drawing out a bundle of parchments tied with a ribbon, heldthem towards the King, with a grave smile. 'Lo you now, Sir Richard, ' said Henry, with a playful face of disgust;'this is to save your dainty meats, by spoiling my appetite by thatunwelcome sight. What, man! have you bought up all the bonds I gave inmy need to a whole synagogue of Jews and bench of Loin-bards? I shallhave to send for my crown before you let me go; though verily, ' he added, with frank, open face, 'I'm better off with a good friend like you for mycreditor--only I'm sorry for you, Sir Richard. I fear it will be longere you see your good gold in the stead of your dirty paper, even thoughI gave you an order on the tolls. How now! What, man, Dick Whittington!Art raving? Here, the tongs!' For Sir Richard, gently smiling, had placed the bundle of bonds on theglowing bed of embers. Henry, even while calling for the tongs, was raking them out with hissword, and would have grasped them in his hand in a moment, but the LordMayor caught his arm. 'Pardon, my lord, and grant your new knight's boon. ' 'When he is not moon-struck!' said Henry, still guarding the documents. 'Why, my Lady Mayoress, know you what is here?' 'Sixty thousand, my liege, ' composedly answered Dame Alice. 'My husbandhath his whims, and I pray your Grace not to hinder what he hath so longbeen preparing. ' 'Yea, Sir, ' added Whittington, earnestly. 'You wot that God hathprospered us richly. We have no child, and our nephews are well endowed. How, then, can our goods belong to any save God, our king, and the poor?' Henry drew one hand over his eyes, and with the other wrung that ofWhittington. 'Had ever king such a subject?' he murmured. 'Had ever subject such a king?' was Whittington's return. 'Thou hast conquered, Whittington, ' said the King, presently looking upwith a sunny smile. 'To send me over the seas a free man, beholden toyou in heart though not by purse, is, as I well believe, worth all thatsum to thy loyal heart. Thou art setting me far on my way to Jerusalem, my dear friend! Thank him, Kate--he hath done much for thine husband!' Catherine looked amiable, and held out a white hand to be kissed, awarethat the King was pleased, though hardly understanding why he should beglad that an odour of singed parchment should overpower the gums andcinnamon. This was soon remedied by the fresh handful of spices thatwere cast into the flame, and the banquet began, magnificent withpeacocks, cranes, and swans in full plumage; the tusky bear crunched hisapple, deer's antlers adorned the haunch, the royal sturgeon floated inwine, fountains of perfumed waters sprang up from shells, towers ofpastry and of jelly presented the endless allegorical devices of mediaevalfancy, and, pre-eminent over all, a figure of the cat, with emerald eyes, fulfilled, as Henry said, the proverb, 'A cat might look at a king;' andtruly the cat and her master had earned the right; therefore his firsttoast was, 'To the Cat!' Each guest found at his or her place a beautiful fragrant pair of gloves, in Spanish leather, on the back of which was once more embroidered, inall her tabby charms, the cat's face. Therewith began a lengthy meal;and Malcolm Stewart rejoiced at finding himself seated next to the LadyEsclairmonde, but he grudged her attention to her companion, a slender, dark, thoughtful representative of the Goldsmiths' Company, to whom shetalked with courtesy such as Malcolm had scorned to show his city dame. 'Who, ' said Esclairmonde, presently, 'was a dame in a religious garb whomI marked near the door here? She hooked like one of the Beguines of myown country. ' 'We have no such order here, lady, ' said the goldsmiths, puzzled. 'Hey, Master Price, ' cried Mistress Bolt, speaking across Malcolm, 'I cantell the lady who it was. 'Twas good Sister Avice Rodney, to whom theLady Mayoress promised some of these curious cooling drinks for the poorshipwright who hath well-nigh cloven off his own foot with his axe. ' 'Yea, truly, ' returned the goldsmith; 'it must have been one of thebedeswomen of St. Katharine's whom the lady has seen. ' 'What order may that be?' asked Esclairmonde. 'I have seen nothing solike my own country since I came hither. ' 'That may well be, madam, ' said Mistress Belt, 'seeing that thesebedeswomen were first instituted by a countrywoman of your own--QueenPhilippa, of blessed memory. ' 'By your leave, Mistress Bolt, ' interposed Master Price, 'the hospital ofSt. Katharine by the Tower is of far older foundation. ' 'By _your_ leave, sir, I know what I say. The hospital was founded Iknow not when, but these bedeswomen were especially added by the goodQueen, by the same token that mine aunt Cis, who was tirewoman to theblessed Lady Joan, was one of the first. ' 'How was it? What is their office?' eagerly inquired Esclairmonde. AndMistress Bolt arranged herself for a long discourse. 'Well, fair sirs and sweet lady, though you be younger than I, you havesurely heard of the Black Death. Well named was it, for never waspestilence more dire; and the venom was so strong, that the very lips andeyelids grew livid black, and then there was no hope. Little thought ofsuch disease was there, I trow, in kings' houses, and all the fair younglords and ladies, the children of King Edward, as then was, were full ofsport and gamesomeness as you see these dukes be now. And never a onewas blither than the Lady Joan--she they called Joan of the Tower, beinga true Londoner born--bless her! My aunt Cis would talk by the hour ofher pretty ways and kindly mirth. But 'twas even as the children havethe game in the streets-- "There come three knights all out of Spain, Are come to fetch your daughter Jane. " 'Twas for the King of Castille, that same Peter for whom the Black Princeof Wales fought, and of whom such grewsome tales were told. The prettyprincess might almost have had a boding what sort of husband they had forher, for she begged and prayed, even on her knees, that her father wouldleave her; but her sisters were all espoused, and there was no help forit. But, as one comfort to her, my aunt Cis, who had been about her fromher cradle, was to go with her; and oft she would tell of the longjourney in litters through France, and how welcome were the Englishtongues they heard again at Bordeaux, and how when poor Lady Joan saw herbrother, the Prince, she clung about his neck and sobbed, and how hesoothed her, and said she would soon laugh at her own unwillingness to goto her husband. But even then the Black Death was in Bordeaux, and beinglow and mournful at heart, the sweet maid contracted it, and lay down todie ere she had made two days' journey, and her last words were, "My Godhath shown me more pity than father or brother;" and so she died like alamb, and mine aunt was sent by the Prince to bear home the tidings tothe good Queen, who was a woeful woman. And therewith, here was thepestilence in London, raging among the poor creatures that lived in thewharves and on the river bank, in damp and filth, so that wholehouseholds lay dead at once, and the contagion, gathering force, spreadinto the city, and even to the nobles and their ladies. Then my goodaunt, having some knowledge of the sickness already, and being withoutfear, went among the sick, and by her care, and the food, wine, andclothing she brought, saved a many lives. And from whom should thebounties come, save from the good Queen, who ever had a great pity forthose touched like her own fair child? Moreover, when she heard from myaunt how the poor things lived in uncleanness and filth, and how, whatwith many being strangers coming by sea, and others being serfs fled fromhome, they were a nameless, masterless sort, who knew not where to seek aparish priest, and whom the friars shunned for their poverty, she deviseda fresh foundation to be added to the hospital of St. Katharine's in theDocks, providing for a chapter of ten bedeswomen, gentle andwell-nurtured, who should both sing in choir, and likewise go forthconstantly among the poor, to seek out the children, see that they learntheir Credo, Ave, and Pater Noster, bring the more toward to be furthertaught in St. Katharine's school, and likewise to stir poor folk up to goto mass and lead a godly life; to visit the sick, feed and tend them, andso instruct them, that they may desire the Sacraments of the Church. ' 'Ah! good Flemish Queen!' cried Esclairmonde. 'She learnt that of ourBeguines!' 'If your ladyship will have it so, ' said Mrs. Bolt; 'but my aunt Cicelybegan!' 'Who nominates these bedeswomen?' asked Esclairmonde. 'That does the Queen, ' said Mistress Bolt. 'Not this young Queen, asyet, for Queen Joan, the late King's widow, holds the hospital till herdeath, unless it should be taken from her for her sorceries, from whichHeaven defend us!' 'Can it be visited?' said Esclairmonde. 'I feel much drawn thither, as Iever did to the Beguines. ' 'Ay, marry may it!' cried delighted Mrs. Bolt. 'I have more than onegossip there, foreby Sister Avice, who was godchild to Aunt Cis; and ifthe good lady would wish to see the hospital, I would bear her companywith all my heart. ' To Malcolm's disgust, Esclairmonde caught at the proposal, which theScottish haughtiness that lay under all his gentleness held somewhatdegrading to the cousin of the Emperor. He fell into a state of gloom, which lasted till the loving-cup had gone round and been partaken of inpairs. After hands had been washed in rose-water, the royal party took theirseats in barges to return to Westminster by the broad and beautifulhighway of the Thames. Here at once Alice Montagu nestled to Esclairmonde's side, delighted withher cat gloves, and further delighted with an old captain of trainedbands, to whose lot she had fallen, and who, on finding that she was thedaughter of the Earl of Salisbury, under whom he had served, had launchedforth by the hour into the praises of that brave nobleman, both for hiscourage and his kindness to his troops. 'No wonder King Henry loves his citizens so well!' cried Esclairmonde. 'Would that our Netherlandish princes and burghers could take pride andpleasure in one another's wealth and prowess, instead of grudging andfearing thereat!' 'To my mind, ' said Malcolm, 'they were a forward generation. That citydame will burst with pride, if you, lady, go with her to see thosebedeswomen. ' 'I trust not, ' laughed Esclairmonde, 'for I mean to try. ' 'Nay, but, ' said Malcolm, 'what should a mere matter of old rockers andworn-out tirewomen concern a demoiselle of birth?' 'I honour them for doing their Master's work, ' said Esclairmonde, 'andwould fain be worthy to follow in their steps. ' 'Surely, ' said Malcolm, 'there are houses fit for persons of high andprincely birth to live apart from gross contact with the world. ' 'There are, ' said Esclairmonde; 'but I trust I may be pardoned for sayingthat such often seem to me to play at humility when they stickle forbirth and dower with the haughtiest. I never honoured any nuns so muchas the humble Sisters of St. Begga, who never ask for sixteenquarterings, but only for a tender hand, soft step, pure life, and piousheart. ' 'I deemed, ' said Malcolm, 'that heavenly contemplation was the purpose ofconvents. ' 'Even so, for such as can contemplate like the holy man I have told youof, ' said Esclairmonde; 'but labour hath been greatly laid aside inconvents of late, and I doubt me if it be well, or if their prayers bethe better for it. ' 'And so, ' said Alice, 'I heard my Lord of Winchester saying how it werewell to suppress the alien priories, and give their wealth to foundcolleges like that founded by Bishop Wykeham. ' For in truths the spirit of the age was beginning to set againstmonasticism. It was the period when perhaps there was more of licenseand less of saintliness than at any other, and when the long continuanceof the Great Schism had so injured Church discipline that the clergy andecclesiastics were in the worst state of all, especially the monasticorders, who owned no superior but the Pope, and between the two rivalscould avoid supervision altogether. Such men as Thomas a Kempis, or thegreat Jean Gerson, were rare indeed; and the monasteries had letthemselves lose their missionary character, and become mere large farms, inhabited by celibate gentlemen and their attendants, or by thesuperfluous daughters of the nobles and gentry. Such devotion as ledEsclairmonde to the pure atmosphere of prayer and self-sacrifice had well-nigh died out, and almost every other lady of the time would haveregarded her release from the vows made for her its her babyhood a happyescape. Still less, at a time when no active order of Sisters, save that of theBeguines in Holland, had been invented, and when no nun ever dreamt ofcarrying her charity beyond the quadrangle of her own convent, could anyone be expected to enter into Esclairmonde's admiration and longing forout-of-door works; but the person whom she had chiefly made her friendwas the King's almoner and chaplain, sometimes called Sir Martin Bennet, at others Dr. Bennet, a great Oxford scholar, bred up among William ofWykeham's original seventy at Winchester and New College, and now muchtrusted and favoured by the King, whom he everywhere accompanied. ThatSir Martin was a pluralist must be confessed, but he was mostconscientious in providing substitutes, and was a man of much thought andof great piety, in whom the fair pupil of the Canon of St. Agnes found acongenial spirit. CHAPTER VI: MALCOLM'S SUIT 'That is a gentle and gracious slip of the Stewart. What shall you dowith him?' asked King Henry of James, as they stood together at one endof the tilt-yard at Westminster, watching Malcolm Stewart and Ralf Percy, who were playing at closhey, the early form of nine-pins. 'I know what I should like to do, ' said James. 'What may that be?' 'To marry him to the Lady Esclairmonde de Luxemburg. ' Henry gave a long whistle. 'Have you other views for her?' 'Not I! Am I to have designs on every poor dove who flies into my tentfrom the hawk? Besides, are not they both of them vowed to a religiouslife?' 'Neither vow is valid, ' replied James. 'To meddle with such things is what I should not _dare_, ' said Henry. 'Monks and friars are no such holy beings, that I should greatly concernme about keeping an innocent had out of their company, ' said James. 'Nor do I say they are, ' said Henry; 'but it is ill to cross a vow ofdevotion, and to bring a man back to the world is apt to render him notworth the having. You may perchance get him down lower than youintended. ' 'This boy never had any real vocation at all, ' said James; 'it was onlythe timidity born of ill-health, and the longing for food for the mind. ' 'Maybe so, ' replied the English king, 'and you may be in the right; butwhy fix on that grand Luxemburg wench, who ought to be a Lady Abbess ofFontainebleau at least, or a very St. Hilda, to rule monks and nunsalike?' 'Because they have fixed on each other. Malcolm needs a woman like herto make a man of him; and with her spirit and fervent charity, we shouldhave them working a mighty change in Scotland. ' 'If you get her there!' 'Have I your consent, Harry?' 'Mine? It's no affair of mine! You must settle it with Madame ofHainault; but you had best take care. You are more like to make yourtame lambkin into a ravening wolf, than to get that Deborah theprophetess to herd him. ' James in sooth viewed this warning as another touch of Lancastriansuperstition, and only considered how to broach the question. Malcolm, meantime, was balancing between the now approaching decision betweenOxford and France. He certainly felt something of his old horror ofwarlike scenes; but even this was lessening; he was aware that battleswere not every-day occurrences, and that often there was no danger atall. He would not willingly be separated from his king; and if thefemale part of the Court were to accompany the campaign, it would belosing sight of all he cared for, if he were left among a set of strangershavelings at Oxford. Yet he was reluctant to break with the old habitsthat had hitherto been part of his nature; he felt, after every word ofEsclairmonde--nay, after every glance towards her--as though it were ablessed thing to have, like her, chosen the better part; he knew shewould approve his resort to the home of piety and learning; he was awarethat when with Ralf Percy and the other youths of the Court he wasashamed of his own scrupulousness, and tempted to neglect observancesthat they might call monkish and unmanly; and he was not at all sure thatin face of the enemy a panic might not seize him and disgrace him forever! In effect he did not know what he wished, even when he found thatthe Queen had decided against going across the sea, and that thereforeall the ladies would remain with her at Shene or Windsor. He should probably never again see Esclairmonde, the guiding star of hisrecent life, the embodiment of all that he had imagined when conning thequaint old English poems that told the Legend of Seynct Katharine; and ashe leant musingly against a lattice, feeling as if the brightness of hislife was going out, King James merrily addressed him:-- 'Eh! the fit is on you too, boy!' 'What fit, Sir?' Malcolm opened his eyes. 'The pleasing madness. ' Malcolm uttered a cry like horror, and reddened crimson. 'Sir! Sir!Sir!' he stammered. 'A well-known token of the disease is raving. ' 'Sir, Sir! I implore you to speak of nothing so profane. ' 'I am not given to profanity, ' said James, endeavouring to look severe, but with laughter in his voice. 'Methought you were not yet so sacred apersonage. ' 'Myself! No; but that I--I should dare to have such thoughts of--oh, Sir!' and Malcolm covered his face with his hands. 'Oh, that you shouldhave so mistaken me!' 'I have _not_ mistaken you, ' said James, fixing his keen eyes on him. 'Oh, Sir!' cried Malcolm, like one freshly stung, 'you have! Never, never dreamt I of aught but worshipping as a living saint, as I wouldentreat St. Margaret or--' There was still the King's steady look and the suppressed smile. Malcolmbroke off, and with a sudden agony wrung his hands together. The Kingstill smiled. 'Ay, Malcolm, it will not do; you are man, not monk. ' 'But why be so cruel as to make me vile in my own eyes?' almost sobbedMalcolm. 'Because, ' said the King, 'she is not a saint in heaven, nor a nun in aconvent, but a free woman, to be won by the youth she has marked out. ' 'Marked! Oh, Sir, she only condescended because she knew mydestination. ' 'That is well, ' said King James. 'Thus sparks kindle at unawares. ' Malcolm's groan and murmur of 'Never!' made James almost laugh at theevidence that on one side at least the touch-wood was ready. 'Oh, Sir, ' he sighed, 'why put the thought before me, to make mewretched! Even were she for the world, she would never be for me. I--doited--hirpling--' 'Peace, silly lad; all that is past and gone. You are quite another now, and a year or two of Harry's school of chivalry will send you home agallant knight and minstrel, such as no maiden will despise. ' The King went, and Malcolm fell into a silent state of musing. He wasentirely overpowered, both by the consciousness awakened within himself, by the doubt whether it were not a great sin, and by the strangeness thatthe King, hitherto his oracle, should infuse such a hope. What KingJames deemed possible could never be so incredible, or even sacrilegious, as he deemed it. Restless, ashamed, rent by a thousand conflictingfeelings, Malcolm roamed up and down his chamber, writhed, tried to sitand think, then, finding his thoughts in a whirl, renewed his franticpacings. And when dire necessity brought him again into the ladies'chamber, he was silent, blushing, ungainly, abstracted, and retreatedinto the farthest possible corner from the unconscious Esclairmonde. Then, when again alone with the King, he began with the assertion, 'It isutterly impossible, Sir;' and James smiled to see his poison working. Notthat he viewed it as poison. Monasticism was at a discount, and theranks of the religious orders were chiefly filled, the old Benedictineand Augustinian foundations by gentlemen of good family who wanted theeasy life of a sort of bachelor squire, and the friaries were recruitedby the sort of men who would in modern times be dissenting teachers ofthe lower stamp. James was persuaded that Malcolm was fit for betterthings than were usually to be seen in a convent, and that it was a realkindness not to let him merely retire thither out of faintness of heart, mistaken for devotion; and he also felt as if he should be doing goodservice, not only to Malcolm, but to Scotland, if he could obtain for hima wife of the grand character of Esclairmonde de Luxemburg. He even risked the mention of the project to the Countess of Hainault, without whose consent nothing could be effected. Jaqueline laughed longand loud at the notion of her stately Esclairmonde being the lady-love ofKing James's little white-visaged cousin; but if he could bring it aboutshe had no objection, she should be very glad that the demoiselle shouldcome down from the height and be like other people; but she would wagerthe King of Scots her emerald carcanet against his heron's plume, thatEsclairmonde would never marry unless her hands were held for her. Wasshe not at that very moment visiting some foundation of bedeswomen--thatwas all she heard of at yonder feast of cats! In fact, under Dr. Bennet's escort, Esclairmonde and Alice were in abarge dropping down the Thames to the neighbourhood of the frowningfortress of the Tower--as yet unstained; and at the steps leading to theHospitium of St. Katharine the ladies were met, not only by their friendMrs. Bolt, but by Sir Richard Whittington, his kindly dame, and by'Master William Kedbesby, ' a grave and gentle-looking old man, who hadbeen Master of St. Katharine's ever since the first year of King RichardII. , and delighted to tell of the visits 'Good Queen Anne' of Bohemia hadmade to her hospital, and the kind words she had said to the old alms-folk and the children of the schools; and when he heard that the LadyEsclairmonde was of the same princely house of Luxemburg, he seemed tothink no honour sufficient for her. They visited the two houses, one forold men, the other for old women, each with a common apartment, with afire, and a dining-table in the midst, and sleeping cells screened offround it, and with a paved terrace walk overhanging the river, where theold people could sit and sun themselves, and be amused by the gay bargesand the swans that expatiated there. The bedeswomen, ten in number, hada house arranged like an ordinary nunnery, except that they were not inseclusion, had no grating, and shared the quadrangle with the alms-folkand children. They were gentle and well-nurtured women, chieflybelonging to the city and country families that furnished servants to thequeens; and they applied themselves to various offices of charity, goingforth into the city to tend the poor, and to teach the women andchildren. The appointments of alms-folk and admissions to the schoolwere chiefly made at their recommendation; and though a master taught allthe book-learning in the busy hive of scholars--eighty in number--one ormore of them instructed the little girls in spinning and in stitchery, tosay nothing of gentle and modest demeanour. There was a great look ofhappiness and good order about all; and the church, fair and graceful, seemed well to complete and rule the institution. Esclairmonde could butsigh with a sort of regret as she left it, and let herself be conductedby Sir Richard Whittington to a refection at his beautiful house inCrutched Friars, built round a square, combining warehouse andmanor-house; richly-carved shields, with the arms of the companies ofLondon, supporting the tier of first-floor windows, and another row ofbrackets above supporting another overhanging story. A fountain was inthe centre of a beautiful greensward, with beds of roses, pansies, pinks, stars of Bethlehem, and other good old flowers, among which a monkey waschained to a tree, while a cat roamed about at a safe distance from him. Alice Montagu raised a laugh by asking if it were _the_ cat; to which hercity namesake replied that 'her master' never could abide to be without acat in memory of his first friend, and marshalled them into the beautifulhall, with wainscot lining below, surmounted by an arcade containingstatues, and above a beautiful carved ceiling. Here a meal was served tothem, and the Lady talked with Whittington of the grand town-halls andother buildings of the merchants of the Low Countries, with whom he was atrader for their rich stuffs; and the visit passed off with no smallsatisfaction to both parties. Esclairmonde sat in the barge on her return, looking out on the grayclear water, and on the bright gardens that sloped down to it, gay withroses and fruitful with mulberries, apples, and strawberries, and themansions and churches that were never quite out of sight, though therewere some open fields and wild country ere coming to Westminster, all asif she did not see them, but was wrapped in deep contemplation. Alice at last, weary of silence, stole her arm round her waist, andpeeped up into her face. 'May I guess thy thoughts, sweet Clairette?Thou wilt found such a hospice thyself?' 'Say not I _will_, child, ' said Esclairmonde, with a crystal dropstarting in each dark eye. 'I would strive and hope, but--' 'Ah! thou wilt, thou wilt, ' cried Alice; 'and since there are Beguinesenough for their own Netherlands, thou wilt come to England and be ourfoundress here. ' 'Nay, little one; here are the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's in London. ' 'Ah! but we have other cities. Good Father, have we not?Hull--Southampton--oh! so many, where poor strangers come that needghostly tendance as well as bodily. Esclairmonde--Light of the World--oh!it was not for nothing that they gave thee that goodly name. The hospiceshall bear it!' 'Hush, hush! sweet pyet; mine own name is what they must not bear. ' 'Ah! but the people will give it; and our Holy Father the Pope, he willput thee into the canon of saints. Only pity that I cannot live to hearof Ste. Esclairmonde--nay, but then I must overlive thee, mind I shouldnot love that. ' 'Oh, silence, silence, child; these are no thoughts to begin a work with. Little flatterer, it may be well for me that our lives must needs lie sofar apart that I shall not oft hear that fond silly tongue. ' 'Nay, ' said Alice, in the luxury, not of castle-building but of convent-building; 'it may be that when that knight over there sees me so smalland ill-favoured he will none of me, and then I'll thank him so, and praymy father to let him have all my lands and houses except just enough todower me to follow thee with, dear Lady Prioress. ' But here Alice was summarily silenced. Such talk, both priest andvotaress told her, was not meet for dutiful daughter or betrothed maiden. Her lot was fixed, and she must do her duty therein as the good wife andlady of the castle, the noble English matron; and as she looked halfdisposed to pout, Esclairmonde drew such a picture of the beneficentinfluence of the good baronial dame, ruling her castle, bringing up herchildren and the daughters of her vassals in good and pious nurture, making 'the heart of her husband safely trust in her, ' benefiting thepoor, and fostering holy men, wayfarers, and pilgrims, that the girl'seyes filled within tears as she looked up and said, 'Ah! lady, this isthe life fitted for thee, who can paint it so well. Why have I not abrother, that you might be Countess of Salisbury, and I a poor littlesister in a nunnery?' Esclairmonde shook her head. 'Silly child, _petite niaise_, our lotswere fixed by other hands than ours. We will strive each to serve ourGod, in the coif or in the veil, in samite or in serge, and He will onlyask which of us has been most faithful, not whether we have lived incastle or in cloister. ' Little had Esclairmonde expected to hear the greeting with which theCountess received her, breaking out into peals of merriment as she toldher of the choice destiny in store for her, to be wedded to the littlelame Scot, pretending to read her a grave lecture on the consequences ofthe advances she had made to him. Esclairmonde was not put out of countenance; in fact, she did not thinkthe Countess in earnest, and merely replied with a smile that at leastthere was less harm in Lord Malcolm than in the suitors at home. Jaqueline clapped her hands and cried, 'Good tidings, Clairette. I'llnever forgive you if you make me lose my emerald carcanet! So the arrowwas winged, after all. She prefers him--her heart is touched by thedainty step. ' 'Madame!' entreated Esclairmonde, with agitation; 'at least, infirmityshould be spared. ' 'It touches her deeply!' exclaimed the Duchess. 'Ah! to see her in themountains teaching the wild men to say their Aye, and to wear _culottes_, the little prince interpreting for her, as King James told us in hisstory of the saint his ancestor. ' Raillery about Malcolm had been attempted before, but never sopertinaciously; and Esclairmonde heeded it not at all, till James himselfsought her out, and, within all his own persuasive grace, told her thathe was rejoiced to hear from Madame of Hainault that she had spokenkindly of his youthful kinsman, for whose improvement he was sure he hadin great measure to thank her. Esclairmonde replied composedly, but as one on her guard, that the Sieurde Glenuskie was a gentle and a holy youth, of a good and toward wit. 'As I saw from the first, ' said James, 'when I brought him away frombeing crushed among our rude cousins; but, lady, I knew not how the taskof training the boy would be taken out of my hands by your kindness; andnow, pardon me, lady, only one thing is wanting to complete your work, and that is hope. ' 'Hope is always before a holy man, Sir. ' 'O, madame! but we peer earthly beings require an earthly hope, nearerhome, to brace our hearts, and nerve our arms. ' 'I thought the Sieur de Glenuskie was destined to a religious life. ' 'Never by any save his enemies, lady. The Regent Albany and his fiercesons have striven to scare Malcolm into a cloister, that his sister andhis lands may be their prey; and they would have succeeded had not I cometo Scotland in time. The lad never had any true vocation. ' 'That may be, ' said Esclairmonde, somewhat sorrowfully. 'Still, ' added James, 'he is of a thoughtful and somewhat tender mould, and the rudeness of life will try him sorely unless he have some cheeringstar, some light of love, to bear him up and guide him on his way. ' 'If so, may he find a worthy one. ' 'Lady, it is too late to talk of what he may find. The brightness thathas done so much for him already will hinder him from turning his eyeselsewhere. ' 'You are a minstrel, Sir King, and therefore these words of light romancefall from your lips. ' 'Nay, lady, hitherto my romance has been earnest. It rests with you tomake Malcolm's the same. ' 'Not so, Sir. That has long been out of my hands. ' 'Madame, you might well shrink from what it was as insult to you topropose; but have you never thought of the blessings you might confer inthe secular life, with one who would be no hindrance, but a help?' 'No, Sir, for no blessings, but curses, would follow a breach ofdedication. ' 'Lady, I will not press you with what divines have decided respectingsuch dedication. Any scruples could be removed by the Holy Father atRome, and, though I will speak no further, I will trust to yourconsidering the matter. You have never viewed it in any light save thatof a refuge from wedlock with one to whom I trust you would prefer mygentle cousin. ' 'It were a poor compliment to Lord Malcolm to name him in the same daywith Sir Boemond of Burgundy, ' said Esclairmonde; 'but, as I said, it isnot the person that withholds me, but the fact that I am not free. ' 'I do not ask you to love or accept the poor boy as yet, ' said James; 'Ileave that for the time when I shall bring him back to you, with thequalities grown which you have awakened. At least, I can bear him thetidings that it is not your feelings, but your scruples that are againsthim. ' 'Sir King, ' said Esclairmonde, gravely, 'I question not your judgment inturning your kinsman and subject to the secular life; but if you lead himby false hopes, of which I am the object, I tell you plainly that you aredeluding him; and if any evil come thereof, be it on your own head. ' She moved away, with a bend of her graceful neck, and James stood with aslight smile curving his lip. 'By my troth, ' he said to himself, 'alordly lady! She knows her own vocation. She is one to command scoresof holy maids, and have all the abbots and priors round at her beck, instead of one poor man. Rather Malcolm than I! But he is the verystuff that loves to have such a woman to rule him; and if she wed at all, he is the very man for her! I'll not give it up! Love is the way tomake a man of him, whether successful or not, and she may change hermind, since she is not yet on the roll of saints. If I could get a wordwith her father confessor, and show him how much it would be for theinterest of the Church in Scotland to get such a woman there, it would bethe surest way of coming at her. Were she once in Scotland, my prettyone would have a stay and helper! But all must rest till after thecampaign. ' James therefore told Malcolm so much as that he had spoken to his lady-love for him, and that she had avowed that it was not himself, but herown vows, that was the obstacle. Malcolm crimsoned with joy as well as confusion; and the King proceeded:'For the vows'--he shrugged his shoulders--'we knew there is a remedy!Meantime, Malcolm, be you a man, win your spurs, and show yourself worthovercoming something for!' Malcolm smiled and brightened, holding his head high and joyously, andhandling his sword. Then came the misgiving--'But Lilias, Sir, andPatrick Drummond. ' 'We will provide for them, boy. You know Drummond is bent on carving hisown fortune rather than taking yours, and that your sister only longs tosee you a gallant knight. ' It was true, but Malcolm sighed. 'You have not spoken to the lady yourself?' asked the King. 'No, Sir. Oh, how can I?' faltered Malcolm, shamefaced and frightened. James laughed. 'Let that be as the mood takes you, or occasion serves, 'he said, wondering whether the lad's almost abject awkwardness and shamewould be likely to create the pity akin to love or to contempt, anddeciding that it must be left to chance. Nor did Malcolm find boldness enough to do more than haunt Esclairmonde'ssteps, trembling if she glanced towards him, and almost shrinking fromher gaze. He had now no doubts about going on the campaign, and was infull course of being prepared with equipments, horses, armour, andattendants, as became a young prince attending on his sovereign as anadventurer in the camp. It was not even worth while to name suchscruples to the English friar who shrived him on the last day before thedeparture, and who knew nothing of his past history. He knew all priestswould say the same things, and as he had never made a binding vow, he sawno need of consulting any one on the subject; it would only vex himagain, and fill him with doubts. The suspicion that Dr. Bennet was awareof his previous intention made him shrink from him. So the last day hadcome, and all was farewell. King Henry had persuaded the Queen toseclude herself for one evening from Madame of Hainault, for his sake. King James was pacing the gardens on the Thames banks, with JoanBeaufort's hand for once allowed to repose in his; many a noble gentlemanwas exchanging last words with his wife--many a young squire whisperingwhat he had never ventured to say before--many a silver mark wascloven--many a bright tress was exchanged. Even Ralf Percy was in themidst of something very like a romp with the handsome Bessie Nevil for aknot of ribbon to carry to the wars. Malcolm felt a certain exaltation in being enough like other people tohave a lady-love, but there was not much comfort otherwise; indeed, hecould so little have addressed Esclairmonde that it was almost asatisfaction that she was the centre of a group of maidens whose loversor brothers either had been sent off beforehand, or who saw theirattentions paid elsewhere, and who all alike gravitated towards theDemoiselle de Luxemburg for sympathy. He could but hover on theoutskirts, conscious that he must cut a ridiculous figure, but unable todetach himself from the neighbourhood of the magnet. As he looked backon the happy weeks of unconstrained intercourse, when he came to her asfreely as did these young girls with all his troubles, he felt as if theKing had destroyed all his joy and peace, and yet that these flutteringsof heart and agonies of shame and fits of despair were worth all thatchildish calm. He durst say nothing, only now and then to gaze on her with his greatbrown wistful eyes, which he dropped whenever she looked towards him;until at last, when the summer evening was closing in, and the lastsignal was given for the break-up of the party, Malcolm ventured on onefaltering murmur, 'Lady, lady, you are not offended with me?' 'Nay, ' said Esclairmonde, kindly; 'nothing has passed between us thatshould offend me. ' His eye lighted. 'May I still be remembered in your prayers, lady?' 'As I shall remember all who have been my friends here, ' she said. 'And oh, lady, if I should--should win honour, may I lay it at yourfeet?' 'Whatever you achieve as a good man and true will gladden me, ' saidEsclairmonde, 'as it will all others that wish you well. Both you andyour sister in her loneliness shall have my best prayers. Farewell, LordMalcolm; may the Saints bless and guard you, whether in the world or theChurch. ' Malcolm knew why she spoke of his sister, and felt as if there were nohope for him. Esclairmonde's grave kindness was a far worse sign thanwould have been any attempt to evade him; but at any rate she had spokenwith him, and his heart could not but be cheered. What might he not doin the glorious future? As the foremost champion of a crusading king, bearing St. Andrew's cross through the very gates of Jerusalem, whatmaiden, however saintly, could refuse him his guerdon? And he knew that, for the present, Esclairmonde was safe from retiringinto any convent, since her high birth and great possessions would makeany such establishment expect a large dower with her as a right, and fewabbesses would have ventured to receive a runaway foreigner, especiallyas one of her guardians was the Bishop of Therouenne. CHAPTER VII: THE SIEGE OF MEAUX Wintry winds and rains were sweeping over the English tents on the banksof the Marne, where Henry V. Was besieging Meaux, then the stronghold ofone of those terrible freebooters who were always the offspring of alengthened war. Jean de Gast, usually known as the Bastard de Vaurus, nominally was of the Armagnac or patriotic party, but, in fact, pillagedindiscriminately, especially capturing travellers on their way to Paris, and setting on their heads a heavy price, failing which he hung them uponthe great elm-tree in the market-place. The very suburbs of Paris wereinfested by the forays of this desperate _routier_, as such highwayrobbers were called; the supplies of previsions were cut off, and thecitizens had petitioned King Henry that he would relieve them from sointolerable an enemy. The King intended to spend the winter months with his queen in England, and at once attacked the place in October, hoping to carry it by a _coupde main_. He took the lower city, containing the market-place andseveral large convents, with no great difficulty; but the upper city, ona rising ground above the river, was strongly fortified, well victualled, and bravely defended, and he found himself forced to invest it, and makea regular siege, though at the expense of severe toil and much sicknessand suffering. Both his own prestige in France and the welfare of thecapital depended on his success, and he had therefore fixed himselfbefore Meaux to take it at whatever cost. The greater part of the army were here encamped, together with the chiefnobles, March, Somerset, Salisbury, Warwick, and likewise the King ofScots. James had for a time had the command of the army which besiegedand took Dreux while Henry was elsewhere engaged, but in general he actedas a sort of volunteer aide-de-camp to his brother king, and MalcolmStewart of Glenuskie was always with him as his squire. A great changehad come over Malcolm in these last few months. His feeble, sicklyboyhood seemed to have been entirely cast off, and the warm genial summersun of France to have strengthened his frame and developed his powers. Hehad shot up suddenly to a fair height, had almost lost his lameness, andgained much more appearance of health and power of enduring fatigue. Hisnerves had become less painfully sensitive, and when after his firstskirmish, during which he had kept close to King James, far too muchterrified to stir an inch from him, he had not only found himselfperfectly safe, but had been much praised for his valour, he had been somuch pleased with himself that he quite wished for another occasion ofdisplaying his bravery; and, what with use, and what with the increasingspirit of pugnacity, he was as sincere as Ralf Percy in abusing theFrench for never coming to a pitched battle. Perhaps, indeed, Malcolmspoke even more eagerly than Ralf, in his own surprise and gratificationat finding himself no coward, and his fear lest Percy should detect thathe ever had been supposed to be such. So far the King of Scots had succeeded in awakening martial fire in theboy, but he found him less the companion in other matters than he hadintended. When at Paris, James would have taken him to explore thelearned hoards of the already venerable University of Paris, where youngJames Kennedy--son to Sir James Kennedy of Dunure, and to Mary, an eldersister of the King--was studying with exceeding zeal. Both James and Dr. Bennet were greatly interested in this famous abode of hearing--the King, indeed, was already sketching out designs in his own mind for a similarinstitution in Scotland, designs that were destined to be carried outafter his death by Kennedy; and Malcolm perforce heard many inquiries andreplies, but he held aloof from friendship with his clerkly cousinKennedy, and closed his ears as much as might be, hanging back as ifafraid of returning to his books. There was in this some real dread ofRalf Percy's mockery of his clerkliness, but there was more real distastefor all that appertained to the past days that he now despised. The tide of vitality and physical vigour, so long deficient, had, whom ithad fairly set in, carried him away with it: and in the activity of bodynewly acquired, mental activity had well-nigh ceased. And therewith wentmuch of the tenderness of conscience and devout habits of old. Theydropped from him, sometimes for lack of time, sometimes from false shame, and by and by from very weariness and distaste. He was soldier now, andnot monk--ay, and even the observances that such soldiers as Henry andJames never failed in, and always enforced, were becoming a burthen tohim. They wakened misgivings that he did not like, and that must waittill his next general shrift. And Esclairmonde? Out of her sight, Malcolm dreamt a good deal abouther, but more as the woman, less as the saint; and the hopes, so low inher presence, burnt brighter in her absence as Malcolm grew inself-confidence and in knowledge of the world. He knew that when heparted with her he had been a miserable little wretch whom any womanwould despise, yet she had shown him a sort of preference; how would itbe when he returned to her, perhaps a knight, certainly a brave man likeother men! Of Patrick Drummond he had as yet heard nothing, and only believed him tobe among the Scots who fought on the French side under the Earls ofBuchan and Douglas. Indeed, James especially avoided places where heknew these Scots to be engaged, as Henry persisted in regarding them asrebels against him, and in hanging all who were made prisoners; nor hadMalcolm, during the courtesies that always pass between the outposts ofcivilized armies, made much attempt to have any communication with hiscousin, for though his own abnegation of his rights had never beenpermitted by his guardian, or reckoned on by his sister or her lover, still he had been so much in earnest about it himself, as, whileregarding it as a childish folly, to feel ill at ease in the remembrance, and, though defiant, willing to avoid all that could recall it. Meantime he, with his king, was lodged in a large old convent, as part ofthe immediate following of King Henry. Others of the princes and nobleswere quartered in the market hall and lower town, but great part of thinetroops were in tents, and in a state of much discomfort, owing to theoverflowings of the Marne. Fighting was the least of their dangers, though their skirmishes were often fought ankle-deep in mud and mire;fever and ague were among them, and many a sick man was sent away torecover or die at Paris. The long dark evenings were a new trial to menused to summer campaigning, and nothing but Henry's wonderful personalinfluence and perpetual vigilance kept up discipline. At any hour of theday or night, at any place in the camp, the King might be at hand, with acheery word of sympathy or encouragement, or with the most unflinchingsternness towards any disobedience or debauchery--ever a presence to beeither loved or dreaded. An engineer in advance of his time, he waspersuaded that much of the discomfort might be remedied by trenching theground around the camp; but this measure proved wonderfully distastefulto the soldiery. How hard they laboured in the direct siege operationsthey cared not, but to be set to drain French fields seemed to themabsurd and unreasonable, and the work would not have proceeded at allwithout constant superintendence from one of the chiefs of the army, since the ordinary knights and squires were as obstinately prejudiced aswere the men. Thus it was that, on a cold sleety December day, James of Scotland rodealong the meadows, splashing through thin ice into muddy water, andattended by his small personal suite, excepting Sir Nigel Baird, who wasgone on a special commission to Paris. Both he and Malcolm were plainlyand lightly armed, and wore long blue cloaks with the St. Andrew's crosson the shoulder, steel caps without visors, and the King's merelydistinguished by a thread-hike circlet of gold. They had breastplates, swords, and daggers, but they were not going to a quarter where fightingwas to be expected, and bright armour was not to be exposed to rustwithout need. A visit of inspection to the delvers was not a congenialoccupation, for though the men-at-arms had obeyed James fairly well whenhe was in sole command at Dreux, yet whenever he was obliged to enforceanything unpopular, the national dislike to the Scot was apt to showitself, and the whole army was at present in a depressed condition whichmade such manifestations the more probable. But King Henry was not half recovered from a heavy feverish cold, whichhe had not confessed or attended to, and he had also of late beentroubled with a swelling of the neck. This morning, too, much to hisinconvenience and dismay, he had missed his signet-ring. The privateseal on such a ring was of more importance than the autograph at thattime, and it would never have left the King's hand; but no doubt, inconsequence of his indisposition, his finger, always small-boned, hadbecome thin enough to allow the signet to escape unawares, he wasunwilling to publish the loss, as it might cast doubt on the papers hedespatched, and he, with his chamberlain Fitzhugh, King James, Malcolm, Percy, and a few more, had spent half the morning in the vain search, ending by the King sending his chamberlain, Lord Fitzhugh, to carry toParis a seal already bearing his shield, but lacking the small privatemark that authenticated it as his signet. Fitzhugh would stand over thelapidary and see this added, and bring it back. Ralf Percy had meantimebeen sent to bring a report of the diggers, but he was long in returning;and when Henry became uneasy, James had volunteered to go himself, andHenry had consented, not because the air was full of sleety rain or snow, but because his hands were full of letters needing to be despatched toall quarters. The air was so thick that it was not easy to see where were the sullengroup of diggers presided over by the quondam duellists of Thirsk, Kitsonand Trenton, now the most inseparable and impracticable of men; but Jamesand his companions had ridden about two miles from the market-place, whenRalf Percy came out of the mist, exclaiming, 'Is it you, Sir King? Maybeyou can do something with those rascals! I've talked myself blue withcold to make them slope the sides of their dyke, but the owl Kitson saysno Yorkshireman ditcher ever went but by one fashion, and none evershall; and when I lifted my riding-rod at the most insolent of therogues, what must Trenton do but tell me the lot were free yeomen, andI'd best look out, or they'd roll me in the mire if I meddled with a soulof them. ' 'You didn't threaten to strike Trenton?' 'No, no; the sullen cur is a gentleman. 'Twas one of those lubberly men-at-arms! I told them they should hear what King Harry would say to theirmood. I would it were he!' 'So would I, ' said James. 'Little chance that they will hearken to aScot when you have put them in such a mood. Hold, Ralf, do not go forthe King; he has letters for the Emperor mattering more than this dyke. ' He rode on, and did his best by leaping into the ditch, taking the spade, and showing the superior security of the angle of inclination traced bythe King, but all in vain; both Trenton and Kitson silently butobstinately scouted the notion that any king should know more aboutditches than themselves. 'See, ' cried Percy, starting up, 'here's other work! The fellows, whencecame they?' Favoured by the fog and the soft soil of the meadows, a considerable bodyof the enemy were stealing on the delvers with the manifest purpose ofcutting them off from the camp. They were all mounted, but the onlyhorses in the English party were those of James, Percy, Malcolm, and thehalf-dozen men of his escort. James, assuming the command at once, badethese to be all released; they would be sure to find their way to thecamp, and that would bring succour. Meantime he drew the whole of themen, about thirty in number, into a compact body. They were, properly, archers, but their bows had been left behind, and they had only theirpikes and bills, which were, however, very formidable weapons againstcavalry as long as they continued in an unbroken rank; and though thebogs, pools, sunken hedges, and submerged stumps made it difficult tokeep close together as they made their way slowly with one flank to theriver, these obstacles were no small protection against a charge ofhorsemen. For a quarter of a mile these tactics kept them unharmed, but at lengththey reached a wide smooth meadow, and the enemy seemed preparing tocharge. James gave orders to close up and stand firm, pikes outwards. Malcolm's heart beat fast; it was the most real peril he had yet seen;and yet he was cheered by the King's ringing voice, 'Stand firm, ye merrymen. They must soon be with us from the camp. ' Suddenly a voice shouted, 'The Scots! the Scots! 'Tis the Scots!Treachery! we are betrayed. Come, Sir' (to Percy), 'they'll be on you. Treason!' 'An' it were, you fool, would a Percy turn his back?' cried Ralf, striking at the man; but the panic had seized the whole body; all wereshouting that the false Scots king had brought his countrymen down onthem; they scattered hither and thither, and would have fallen an easyprey if they had been pursued. But this did not seem to be the purposeof the enemy, who merely extended themselves so as to form a hedge aroundthe few who stood, sword in hand, disdaining to fly. These were, James, somewhat in advance, with his head high, and a lion look on his brow;Malcolm, white with dismay; Ralf, restless with fury; Kitson and Trenton, apparently as unmoved as ever; Brewster, equally steady: and Malcolm'sfollower, Halbert, in a glow of hopeful excitement. 'Never fear, friends, ' said James, kindly; 'to you this can only bematter of ransom. ' 'I fear nothing, ' sharply answered Ralf. 'We'll stand by you, Sir, ' said Kitson to Ralf; 'but if ever there werefoul treason--' 'Pshaw! you ass, ' were all Percy's thanks; for at that moment a horsemancame forward from among the enemy, a gigantic form on a tall white horse, altogether a 'dark gray man, ' the open visor revealing an elderly face, hard-featured and grim, and the shield on his arm so dinted, faded, andbattered, as scarce to show the blue chief and the bleeding crownedheart; but it was no unfamiliar sight to Malcolm's eyes, and with aslight shudder he bent his head in answer to the fierce whisper, 'OldDouglas himself!' with which Hotspur's son certified himself that he hadthe foe of his house before him. King James, resting the point of hissword on his mailed foot, stood erect and gravely expectant; and theScot, springing to the ground, advanced with the words, 'We greet youwell, my liege, and hereby--' he was bending his knee as he spoke, andremoving his gauntlet in preparation for the act of homage. 'Hold, Earl Douglas, ' said James, 'homage is vain to a captive. ' 'You are captive no longer, Sir King, ' said Earl Archibald. 'We havelong awaited this occasion, and will at once return to Scotland with you, with the arms and treasure we have gained here, and will bear down thecraven Albany. ' Kitson and Trenton looked at one another and grasped their swords, asthough doubting whether they ought not to cut down their king's prisonerrather than let him be rescued; and meanwhile the cry, 'Save King James!'broke out on all sides, knights leapt down to tender their homage, andamong the foremost Malcolm knew Sir Patrick Drummond, crying aloud, 'Mylord, my lord, we have waited long for you. Be a free king in freeScotland! Trust us, my liege. ' 'Trust you, my friends!' said James, deeply touched; 'I trust you withall my heart; but how could you trust me if I began with a breach offaith to the King of England?' Ralf Percy held up his finger and nodded his head to the Yorkshiresquires, who stood open-mouthed, still believing that a Scot must befalse. There was an angry murmur among the Scots, but James gazed atthem undauntedly, as though to look it down. 'Yes, to King Harry!' he said, in his trumpet voice. 'I belong to him, and he has trusted me as never prisoner was trusted before, nor will Ibetray that trust. ' 'The foul fiend take such niceties, ' muttered old Douglas; but, checkinghimself, he said, 'Then, Sir, give me your sword, and we'll have you homeas my prisoner, to save this your honour!' 'Yea, ' said James, 'that is mine own, though my body be yours, and tillEngland put me to ransom you would have but a useless captive. ' 'Sir, ' said Sir John Swinton, pressing forward, 'if my Lord of Douglas beplain-spoken, bethink you that it is no cause for casting aside this onehope of freedom that we have sought so long. If you have the heart tostrike for Scotland, this is the time. ' 'It is not the time, ' said James, 'nor will I do Scotland the wrong ofstriking for her with a dishonoured hand. ' 'That will we see when we have him at Hermitage Castle, ' quoth Douglas tohis followers. 'Now, Sir King, best give your sword without moregrimace. Living or dead you are ours. ' 'I yield not, ' said James. 'Dead you may take me--alive, never. ' Thenturning his eyes to the faces that gazed on him so earnestly indisappointment, in affection, or in scorn, he spoke: 'Brave friends, whomay perchance love me the better that I have been a captive half my lifeand all my reign, you can believe how sair my heart burns for my bonnieland's sake, and how little I'd reck of my life for her weal. But brokenoaths are ill beginnings. For me, so notably trusted by King Henry, tobreak my bonds, would shame both Scots and kings; and it were yet morepaltry to feign to yield to my Lord of Douglas. Rescue or no rescue, Iam England's captive. Gentles, kindly brother Scots, in one way alonecan you free me. Give up this wretched land of France, whose troublesare but lengthened by your valour. Let me gang to King Harry and tellhim your swords are at his service, so soon as I am free. Then am I yourKing indeed; we return together, staunch hearts and strong hands, and thekey shall keep the castle, and the bracken bush keep the cow, though Ilead the life of a dog to bring it about. ' His tawny eye flashed with falcon light; and as he stood towering aboveall the tall men around, there were few who did not in heart own himindeed their king. But his picture of royal power accorded ill with thenotions of a Black Douglas, in the most masterful days of that family;and Earl Archibald, who had come to regard kings as beings meant to behectored by Douglases, resentfully exclaimed, 'Hear him, comrades; he hasavouched himself a Southron at heart. Has he reckoned how little itwould cost to give a thrust to the caitiff who has lost heart in hisprison, and clear the way for Albany, who is at least a true Scot?' 'Do so, Lord Earl, ' said James, 'and end a long captivity. But let thesego scatheless. ' With one voice, Percy, Kitson, Trenton, and Brewster, shouted theirresolve to defend him to the last; and Malcolm, flinging himself onPatrick Drummond, adjured him to save the King. 'Thou here, laddie!' said Patrick, amazed; and while several more knightsexclaimed, 'Sir, Sir, we'll see no hand laid on you!' he thrust forward, 'Take my horse, Sir, ride on, and I'll see no scathe befall you. ' 'Thanks, ' said James; 'but my feet will serve me best; we will keeptogether. ' The Scottish force seemed dividing into two: Douglas and his friends andretainers, mounted and holding together, as though still undecidedwhether to grapple with the King and his half-dozen companions; whileDrummond and about ten more lances were disposed to guard him at allrisks. 'Now, ' said James to his English friends; and therewith, sword in hand, he moved with a steady but swift stride towards the camp, nor did Douglasattempt pursuit; some of the other horsemen hovered between, and PatrickDrummond, with a puzzled face, kept near on foot. So they proceeded tillthey reached a bank and willow hedge, through which horses could hardlyhave pursued them. On the other side of this, James turned round and said, 'Thanks, SirKnight; I suppose I may not hope that you will become a follower of theknight adventurer. ' 'I cannot fight under the English banner, my liege. Elsewhere I wouldfellow you to the death. ' 'This is no time to show your error, ' said James; 'and I thereforecounsel you to come no farther. The English will be pricking forth insearch of us: so I will but thank you for your loyal aid. ' 'I entreat you, Sir, ' cried Patrick, 'not to believe that we meant thismatter to go as it has done! It had long been our desire--of all of us, that is, save my Lord Buchan's retainers--to find you and release you;but never did we deem that Lord Douglas would have dared to conductmatters thus. ' 'You would be little the better for me did Lord Douglas bring me back onhis own terms, ' said James, smiling. 'No, no; when I go home, it shallbe as a free king, able to do justice to all alike; and for that I amcontent to bide my time, and trust to such as you to back me when itcomes. ' 'And with all my heart, Sir, ' said Patrick. 'Would that you were where Icould do so now. Ah! laddie, ' to Malcolm; 'ye're in good hands. Mycertie, I kenned ye but by your voice! Ye're verily grown into a goodlyship after all, and ye stood as brave as the rest. My poor father wouldhave been fain to see this day!' Malcolm flushed to the ears; somehow Patrick's praise was not as pleasantto him as he would have expected, and he only faltered, 'You know--' 'I ken but what Johnnie Swinton brought me in a letter frae the Abbot ofColdingham, that my father--the saints be with him!--had been set on andslain by yon accursed Master of Albany--would that his thrapple were inmy grip!--that he had sent you southwards to the King, and that yoursister was in St. Abbs. Is it so?' Malcolm had barely time to make a sign of affirmation, when the Kinghurried him on. 'I grieve to balk you of your family tidings, but delaywill be ill for one or other of us; so fare thee well, Sir Patrick, tillbetter times. ' He shook the knight's hand as he spoke, cut short his protestations, andleapt down the bank, saying in a low voice, as he stretched out his handand helped Malcolm down after him, 'He would have known me again for yourguest if we had stood many moments longer; he looked hard at me as itwas; and neither in England nor Scotland may that journey of mine beblazed abroad. ' Malcolm was on the whole rather relieved; he could not help feelingguilty towards Patrick, and unless he could have full time forexplanation, he preferred not falling in with him. And at the same moment Kitson stepped towards the King. 'Sir, you are anhonest man, and we crave your pardon if we said aught that seemed indoubt thereof. ' James laughed, shaking each honest hand, and saying, 'At least, goodsirs, do not always think Scot and traitor the same word; and thank youfor backing me so gallantly. ' 'I'd wish no better than to back such as you, Sir, ' said Kitson heartily;and James then turned to Ralf Percy, and asked him what he thought of theDouglas face to face. 'A dour old block!' said Ralf. 'If those runaways had but stayed withinus, the hoary ruffian should have had his lesson from a Percy. ' James smiled, for the grim giant was still a good deal more than a matchfor the slim, rosy-faced stripling of the house of Percy, whonevertheless simply deemed his nation and family made him invincible byeither Scot or Frenchman. The difficulties of their progress, however, entirely occupied them. Having diverged from the regular track, they had to make their waythrough the inundated meadows; sometimes among deep pools, sometimes inquagmires, or ever hedges; while the water that drenched them was fastfreezing, and darkness came down on them. All stumbled or were bogged atdifferent times; and Malcolm, shorter and weaker than the rest, and hislameness becoming more felt than usual, could not help impeding theirprogress, and at last was so spent that but for the King's strong arm hewould have spent the night in a bog-hole. At last the lights were near, the outskirts were gained, the pass-wordgiven to the watch, and the rough but welcome greeting was heard--'That'swell! More of you come in! How got you off?' 'The rogues got back, then?' said Kitson. 'Some score of them, ' was the answer; 'but 'tis thought most are drownedor stuck by the French. The King is in a proper rage, as well he may be;but what else could come of a false Scot in the camp?' 'Have a care, you foul tongue!' Percy was the first to cry; and astorches were now brought out and cast their light on the well-knownfaces, the soldiers stood abashed; but James tarried not for theirexcuses; his heart was hot at the words which implied that Henrysuspected him, and he strode hastily on to the convent, where thequadrangle was full of horses and men, and the windows shone with lights. At the door of the refectory stood a figure whose armour flashed withlight, and his voice sounded through the closed visor--'I tell you, March, I cannot rest till I knew what his hap has been. If he have donethis thing--' 'What then?' answered James out of the darkness, in a voice deep withwrath; but Henry started. 'You there! you safe! Speak again! Come here that I may see. Where ishe?' 'Here, Sir King, ' said James, gravely. 'Now the saints be thanked!' cried Henry, joyously. 'Where be thecaitiffs that brought me their false tale? They shall hang for it atonce. ' 'It was the less wonder, ' said James, still coldly, 'that they shouldhave thought themselves betrayed, since their king believed it of me. ' 'Nay, 'twas but for a hot moment--ay, and the bitterest I ever spent. What could I do when the villains swore that there were signals and Iknow not what devices passing? I hoped yet 'twas but a plea for theirown cowardice, and was mounting to come and see for you. Come, I shouldhave known you better; I'd rather the whole world deceived me than havedistrusted you, Jamie. ' There was that in his tone which ended all resentment, and James's handwas at once clasped in his, while Henry added, 'Ho, Provost-marshal! tothe gallows with these knaves!' 'Nay, Harry, ' said James, 'let me plead for them. There was more thanordinary to dismay them. ' 'Dismay! ay, the more cause they should have stood like honest men. If arogue be not to hang for deserting his captain and then maligning him, soon would knavery be master of all. ' 'Hear me first, Hal. ' 'I'll hear when I return and you are dried. Why, man, thou art an icicleerrant; change thy garments while I go round the posts, or I shall hearnought for the chattering of thy teeth. ' 'Nor I for your cough, if you go, Harry. Surely, 'tis Salisbury'snight!' 'The more cause that I be on the alert! Could I be everywhere, mayhap afew winter blasts would not have chilled and frozen all the manhood outof the host. ' He spoke very sharply as he threw him on his horse, and wrapped his cloakabout him--a poor defence, spite of the ermine lining, against the frostof the December night for a man whose mother, the fair and wise Mary deBohun, had died in early youth from disease of the lungs. James and the two young partners of his adventure had long been clad intheir gowns of peace, and seated by the fire in the refectory, James withhis harp in his hand, from time to time dreamily calling forth a fewplaintive notes, such as he said always rang in his ears after hearing aScottish voice, when they again heard Henry's voice in hot displeasurewith the provost-marshal for having deferred the execution of therunaways till after the hearing of the story of the King of Scots. 'His commands were not to be transgressed for the king of anything, ' andhe only reprieved the wretches till morning that their fate might be moresignal. He spoke with the peremptory fierceness that had of late almostobscured his natural good-humour and kindliness; and when he entered therefectory and threw himself into a chair by the fire, he looked weariedout in body and mind, shivered and coughed, and said with unwonteddepression that the sullen fellows would make a quagmire of their campafter all, since a French reinforcement had come up, and the vigilancethat would be needed would occupy the whole army. At supper he atelittle and spoke less; and when James would have related his encounterwithin the Scots, he cut him short, saying, 'Let that rest till morning;I am sick of hearing of it! An air upon thy harp would be more to thepurpose. ' Nor would James have been unwilling to be silent on old Douglas's conductif he had not been anxious to plead for the panic-stricken archers, aswell as to extol the conduct of the two youths, and of the Yorkshiresquires; but, as he divined that the young Hotspur would regard praisefrom him as an insult, he deferred the subject for his absence, andlaunched into a plaintive narrative ballad, to which Henry listened, leaning back in his chair, often dozing, but without relaxation of theanxiety that sat on his pale face, and ever and anon wakening within aheavy sigh, as though his buoyant spirits were giving way under theweight of care he had brought on himself. James was just singing of one of the many knightly orphans of romance, exposed in woods to the nurture of bears, his father slain, his motherdead of grief--a ditty he had perhaps chosen for its soporificpowers--when a gay bugle blast rang through the court of the convent. 'The French would scarce send to parley thus late, ' exclaimed James; butthe next moment a joyful clamour arose without, and Henry, springing tohis feet, spoke not, but stood awaiting the tidings with the colourburning on cheek and brow in suppressed excitement. An esquire, splashed to the ears, hurried into the room, and falling onhis knees, cried aloud, 'God save King Harry! News, news, my lord! TheQueen has safely borne you a fair son at Windsor Castle, five dayssince. ' Henry did not speak, but took the messenger's hand, wrung it, and left acostly ring there. Then, taking off his cap, he put his hands over hisface, uttering a few words of fervent thanksgiving almost within himself, and then turning to the esquire, made further inquiries after his wife'swelfare, took from him the letter that Archbishop Chicheley had sent, poured out a cup of wine for him, bade the lords around make him goodcheer, but craved license for himself to retire. It was so unlike his usual hilarious manner that all looked at oneanother in anxiety, and spoke of his unusual susceptibility to fatigueand care; while the squire, looking at the rich jewel in his hand, declared within disappointment in his tone, that he would rather have hada mere flint stone so he had heard King Harry's own cheery voice. James was not the least anxious of them, but long ere light the nextmorning Henry stood at his bedside, saying, 'I must go round the postsbefore mass, Jamie. Will you face the matin frost?' 'I am fitter to face it than thou, ' said James, rising. 'Is there needfor this?' 'Great need, ' said Henry. 'Here are these fresh forces all aglow withintheir first zeal, and unless they are worse captains than I suppose them, they will attempt some mischief ere long--nor is any time so slack ascock-crow. ' James was speedily ready, and, within some suppressed sighs, so wasMalcolm, who knew himself in duty bound to attend his master, and waskept on the alert by seeing Ralf Percy also on foot. But it was a greatrelief to him that the young gentleman murmured in no measured termsagainst the intolerable activity of their kings. No other attendantswent within them, since Henry was wont to patrol his camp with as littledemonstration as possible. 'I would scarcely ask a dog to come out with me this wintry morn, ' saidhe, as he waved back his sleepy chamberlain, Fitzhugh, and took hisbrother king's arm; 'but I could not but crave a turn with thee, Jamie, ere the hue and cry of rejoicing begins. ' 'That is poor welcome for your heir, ' said James. 'Poor child!' said Henry; then, after they had walked some space insilence, he added, 'You'll mock me, but I would that this had notbefallen at Windsor. I had laid my plans that it should be otherwise;but ladies are ill to guide. ' 'And wherefore should it not have been at fair Windsor? If I can love itas a prison, sure your son may well love it as a cradle. ' 'No dishonour to Windsor, ' said Henry; 'but, sleeping or waking, thiswhole night hath this adage rung in my ears-- "Harry, born at Monmouth, shall short time live and all get; Harry, born at Windsor, shall long time live and lose all. "' 'A most choice piece of royal poesy and prophecy, ' laughed James. 'Nay, do not charge me with it, thou dainty minstrel. It was sung to meby mime old Herefordshire nurse, when Windsor seemed as little within myreach as Meaux, and I never thought of it again till I looked to have ason. ' 'Then balk the prophecy, ' said James; 'Edward born at Windsor got enough, and lived long enough to boot!' 'Too late!' was the answer. 'The Archbishop christened the poor childHarry in the very hour of his birth. ' 'Poor child!' echoed James, rather sarcastically. 'Nay, 'tis not solely the rhyme, ' said Henry; 'but this has been awakeful night, and not without misgivings whether I am one who ought tolook for joy in his children. ' 'What is past was not such that you alone should cry _mea culpa_, ' saidJames. 'I never thought so till now, ' said Henry. 'Yet who knows? My fatherwas a winsome young man ere his exile, full of tenderness to us all, atthe rare times he was with us. Who knows what cares may make of me eremy boy learns to knew me?' 'You will not hold him aloof, and give him no chance of loving you?' 'I trow not! I'll have him with me in the camp, and he and my brave menshall be one another's pride. Which Roman emperor is it that hears thenickname his father's soldiers gave him as a child? Nay--Caligula wasit? Omens are against me this morning. ' 'Then laughs them to scorn, and be yourself, ' said James. 'Bless God forthe goodly child, who is born to two kingdoms, won by his father's andhis grandsire's swords. ' 'Ah!' said Henry, depressed by failing health, a sleepless night, andhungry morning, 'maybe it were better for him, soul and body both, did Istand here Duke of Lancaster, and good Edmund of March yonder were headof realm and army. ' 'Never would he be head of this army, ' said James. 'He would be snoringat Shene; that is, if he could sleep for the trouble the Duke ofLancaster would be giving him. ' Henry laughed at last. 'Good King Edmund, he would assuredly never tryto set the world right on its hinges. Honest fellow, soon he will be ashearty in his congratulations as though he did not lie under a greatwrong. Heigh-ho! such as he may be in the right on't. I've marvelled oflate, whether any priest or hermit could bring back my old assurance, that all this is my work on earth, or tell me if it be all one granderror. Men there have been like Caesar, Alexander, or Charlemagne, whothought my thoughts and worked them out; and surely Church and nationscry aloud for purifying. Jerusalem, and a general council--I saw themonce clear and bright before me; but now a mist seems to rise up fromRichard's blood, and hide them from me; and there comes from it myfather's voice when he asked on his deathbed what right I had to thecrown. What would it be if I had to leave this work half done?' He was interrupted by the sight of a young knight stealing into the camp, after a furtive expedition to Paris. It was enough to rouse him from hisdespondent state; and the severity of his wrath was in full proportion tothe offence. Nor did he again utter his misgivings, but was full of hisusual alacrity and life, as though daylight had restored his buoyancy. James, on the way back to the thanksgiving mass, interceded for lastnight's offenders, as an act of grace suitable to the occasion; but Henrywas inexorable. 'Had they stood to die like Englishmen, they had not lied like dogs! 'hesaid; 'and as dogs they shall hang!' In fact, in the critical state of his army, he knew that the only safetylay in the promptest and sternest justice; and therefore the threeforemost in accusing King James of treachery were hung long before noon. However, he called for the two Yorkshiremen, and thus addressed them:'Well done, my masters! Thanks for showing Scots and Frenchmen whatstuff Englishmen are made of! I keep my word, good fellows. Kneel down, and I'll dub each a knight. How now! what are you blundering andwhispering for?' 'So please you, Sir, ' said Kitson, 'this is no matter to win one's spursfor--mere standing still without a blow. ' 'I would all had that same gift of standing still, ' returned Henry. 'Whatis it sticks in your gizzard, friend? If 'tis the fees, I take them onmyself. ' 'No, Sir, ' hoarsely cried both. And Kitson explained: 'Sir, you said you'd knight the one of us that wasforemost. Now, the two being dubbed, we shall be but where we werebefore as to Mistress Agnes of Mineshull, unless of your good-will youwould be pleased to let us fight out the wager of the heriard in allpeace and amity. ' Henry burst out laughing, with all his old merriment, as he said, 'For noMistress Agnes living can I have honest men's lives wasted, specially ofsuch as have that gift of standing still. If she does not knew her ownmind, one of you must get himself killed by the Frenchmen, not by oneanother. So kneel down, and we'll make your knighthood's feast fall inwith that of my son. ' Thus Sir Christopher Kitson and Sir William Trenton rose up knights; andbore their honours with a certain bluntness that made them butts, evenwhile they were the heroes of the day; and Henry, who had resumed his gaytemper, made much diversion out of their mingled shrewdness andgruffness. 'So, ' muttered Malcolm to Ralf Percy, 'we are passed over in the self-same matter for which these fellows are knighted. ' 'Tush!' answered Percy; 'I'd scorn to be confounded with a couple ofclowns like them! Moreover, ' he added, with better reason, 'their valourwas more exercised than ours, inasmuch as they thought there wastreachery, and we did not. No, no; when my spurs are won, it shall befor some prowess, better than standing stock-still. ' Malcolm held his tongue, unwilling that Percy should see that he did feelthis an achievement; but he was vexed at the lack of reward, fancyingthat knighthood would be no small step in the favour of that imaginaryEsclairmonde whom he had made for himself. 'Light of the world' he loved to call her still, but it was in thecommonplace romance of his time, the mere light of beauty and graceilluminating the world of chivalry. CHAPTER VIII: THE CAPTURE The seven months' siege ended at last, but it was not until thebrightness of May was on the fields outside, and the deadly blight offamine on all within, that a haggard, wasted-looking deputation came downfrom the upper city to treat with the King. Henry was never severe with the inhabitants of French cities, and exactedno harsh terms, save that he insisted that Vaurus, the robber captain, and his two chief lieutenants, should be given up to him to suffercondign punishment. The warriors who had shut themselves up to hold outthe place by honourable warfare for the Dauphin must be put to ransom asprisoners of war; but the burghers were to be unmolested, on condition oftheir swearing allegiance to Henry as regent for, and heir of, CharlesVI. To this the deputies consented, and the next day was fixed for thesurrender. The difficulty was, as Henry had found at Harfleur, Rouen, and many other places, to enforce forbearance on his soldiery, whoregarded plunder as their lawful prey, the enemy as their natural game, and the trouble a city had given them as a cause for unmercifulness. Themore time changed his army from the feudal gathering of English countrygentlemen and yeomen to mercenary bands of men-at-arms, the mere greedy, rapacious, and insubordinate became their temper. Well knowing thegreatness of the peril, and that the very best of his captains hadscarcely the will, if they had the power, to restrain the license thatsoon became barbarity unimaginable, he spoke sadly overnight of his dreadof the day of surrender, when it might prove impossible to prevent deedsthat would be not merely a blot on his scutcheon, but a shame to humannature; looking back to the exultation with which he had entered Harfleuras a mere effect of boyish ignorance and thoughtlessness. Having taken all possible precautions, he stood in his full armour, withthe fox's brush in his helmet, under the great elm in the market-place, received the keys, accepted the sword of the captain commissioned byCharles with royal courtesy, gave his hand to be kissed by the mayor; andthen, with grave inexorable air, like a statue of steel, watched as thefreebooter Vaurus and his two chief companions were led down with theirhands tied, halters round their necks, and priests at their sides, preparing them to be hung on that very tree. They were proud hard men, and uttered no entreaty for grace. They had hung too many travellersupon these same branches not to expect their own turn, and they were nocravens to abase themselves. That act of justice ended, Henry mounted his warhorse and rode in at thegates. His wont was to go straight to the principal church, and thereattend a solemn mass of thanksgiving; but experience had taught him thathis devotions were the very opportunity of his men's rapine: he hadtherefore arranged that as soon as he should have arrived in the choir ofthe cathedral, James should take his place, and he slip out by a sidedoor, so as to return to the scene of action. In full procession he and his suite reached the chief door, and theredismounted in an immense crowd, which thronged in at the doors. 'Come, Glenuskie, ' said Ralf Percy, as the two youths were pushed chosetogether in the press; 'if you have a fancy for being smothered in theminster, I have none. We shall never be missed. 'Twill be sport to walkround and see how these hardy rogues contrived to hold out. ' Malcolm willingly turned aside with him, and looked down the slopingstreet, which was swarming with comers and goers. The whole place was inan inflammable state. Soldiers were demanding quarters, which thecitizens unwillingly gave. A refusal or expostulation against a roughentry led to violence; and ever as the two youths walked farther from thecathedral, there was more of excitement, more rude oaths of soldiers, more shrieking of women, often crying out even before any harm was doneto them or their houses. At last, before a tall overhanging house, there was an immense press, anda frightful din of shouts and imprecations, filling both the new-comerswith infectious eagerness. 'How now? how now?' called Percy. 'Keep the peace, good fellows. ' 'Sir, ' cried a number of voices, passionately, 'the French villains havebarred their door. There's a lot of cowardly Armagnacs hid there withtheir gold, trying to balk honest men of their ransom. ' Such was the cry resounding on all sides. 'Have at them! There's therogue at the windows. Out on the fellows! Burn down the door! 'TisVaurus himself and all his gold. Treason! treason!' The clamour was convincing to the spirit, if not to the senses. The twolads believed in the concealed Armagnacs, or perhaps more truly werecarried away by the vehemence around them; and with something of thespirit of the chase, threw themselves headlong into the affair. 'Open! open!' shouted Ralf. 'Open, in the name of King Henry!' An old man's face peeped through a little wicket in the door, and atsight of the two youths, evidently of high rank, said in a tremblingvoice, 'Alas! alas! Sir, bid these cruel men go away. I have nothinghere--no one--only my sick daughter. ' 'You hear, ' said Malcolm, turning round; 'only his sick daughter. ' 'Sick daughter!--old liar! Here's an honest tinker makes oath he hashoards of gold laid up for Vaurus, and ten Armagnacs hidden in his house. Have at him! Bring fire!' Blows hailed thick on the door; a flaming torch was handed over the headsof the throng; horrible growls and roars pervaded them. Malcolm andRalf, furious at the cheat, stood among the foremost, making so muchnoise themselves between thundering and reviling, and calling out, 'Whereare the Armagnacs? Down with the traitors!' that they were not aware ofa sudden hush behind them, till a buffet from a heavy hand fell onMalcolm's shoulder, and a mighty voice cried 'Shame! shame! What, youtoo!' 'There are traitors hid here, Sir, ' said Percy, in angryself-justification. 'And what an if there are? Back, every one of you! rogues that yoube!--Here, Fitzhugh, see those villains back to the camp. Let their armsbe given up to the Provost-marshal. --Kites and crows as you are! Away, out with you!' Henry pointed to the broken door, and the cowed and abashed soldiersslunk away from the terrible light of his eyes. No man could standbefore the face of the King. There was a stillness. He stood leaning on his sword, his chest heavingwith his panting breaths. He was naturally as fleet as the swift-footedAchilles, but the winter had told upon him, and the haste with which hehad rushed to the rescue left him breathless and speechless, while heseemed as it were to nail the two lads to the spot by his steady gaze ofmingled distress and displeasure. Neither could brook his eye: Percy hung his head like a boy in a scrape;Malcolm quailed with terror, but at the same time felt a keen sense ofinjury in being thus treated as a plunderer, and the blow under which hisshoulder ached seemed an indignity to his royal blood. 'Boys, ' said Henry, still low and breathlesly, but all the moreimpressively, 'what is to become of honour and mercy if such as you mustneeds become ravening wolves at scent of booty?' 'It was not booty, Sir; they said traitors were hid here, ' said Percy, sulkily. 'Tush! the old story! Ever the plea for rapine and bloodthirstiness. After the warnings of last night you should have known better; but youare all alike in frenzy for a sack. You have both put off yourknighthood till you have learnt not to become a shame thereto. ' 'I take not knighthood at your hands, Sir, ' burst out Malcolm, goadedwith hot resentment, but startled the next moment at the sound of his ownwords. 'I cry you mercy, ' said King Henry, in a cold, short tone. Malcolm turned on his heel and walked away, without waiting to see howthe poor old man in the house threw himself at the King's feet with apiteous history of his sick daughter and her starving children, nor howRalf hurried off headlong to the lower town to send them immediate reliefin bread, wine, and doctors. The gay, good-natured, thoughtless lad nomere harboured malice for the chastisement than if his tutor had caughthim idling; but things went deeper with Malcolm. True, he had undergonemany a brutal jest and cruel practical joke from his cousins; but thatwas all in the family, not like a blow from an alien king, and one notapologized for, but followed up by a rebuke that seemed to him unjust, lowering him in his own eyes and those of Esclairmonde, and making himready to gnaw himself with moody vexation. 'You here, Malcolm!' said King James, entering his quarters; 'did youmiss me in the throng? I have not seen you all day. ' 'I have been insulted, Sir, ' said Malcolm. 'I pray your license todepart and carry my sword to my kinsmen in the French camp. ' 'How now! Is it the way to treat an insult to run away from it?' 'Not when the world judges men to be on equal terms, my lord. ' 'What! Who has done you wrong, you silly loon?' 'King Henry, Sir; he struck me with his fist, and rated me like hishound; and I will not eat another morsel of his bread unless he wouldanswer it to me in single combat. ' 'Little enough bread you'd eat after that same answer!' ejaculated James. 'Oh! I understand now. You were with young Hotspur and the rest thatset on the poor townsmen, and Harry made small distinction of persons!Nay, Malcolm, it was ill in you, that talked of so loathing spulzie!' 'I wanted no spulzie. There were Armagnacs hid in the house, and theKing would not hear us. ' 'He knew that story too well. Were you asleep or idling last night, whenhe warned all, on no plea whatever, to break into a house, but, if theold tale of treachery came up, to set a guard, and call one of thecaptains? Did you hear him--eh?' 'I can take chiding from you, Sir, but neither words nor blows from anyother king in Christendom, still less when he threatens me that I havedeferred my knighthood! As if I would have it from him!' 'From me you will not have it until he have pardoned Ralf Percy, ' saidJames, dryly. 'Malcolm, I had not thought you such a fule body! Under acaptain's banner, what can be done but submit to his rule? I should doso myself, were Salisbury or March in command. ' 'Then, Sir, ' said Malcolm, much hurt that the King did not take his part, 'I shall carry my service elsewhere. ' 'So, ' said James, much vexed, 'this is the meek lad that wanted to hidein a convent from an ill world, flying off from his king and kinsman thathe may break down honest men's doors at his will. ' 'That I may be free from insult, Sir. ' 'You think John of Buchan like to cosset you! You found the BlackDouglas so courtly to me the other day as to expect him to be tender tothis nicety of yours! Malcolm, as your prince and guardian, I forbidthis folly, and command you to lay aside this fit of malice and do yourdevoir. What! sobbing, silly lad--where's your manhood?' 'Sir, Sir, what will they think of me--the Lady Esclairmonde and all--ifthey hear I have sat down tamely with a blow?' 'She will never think about you at all but as a sullen malapert ne'er-do-weel, if you go off to that camp of _routiers_, trying to prop a badcause because you cannot take correction, nor observe discipline. ' A sudden suspicion came over Malcolm that the King would not thus makelight of the offence, if it had really been the inexpiable insult he hadsupposed it, and the thought was an absolute relief; for in effect theparting from James, and joining the party opposed to Esclairmonde'sfriends, would have been so tremendous a step, that he could hardly havecontemplated it in his sober senses, and he murmured, 'My honour, Sir, 'in a tone that James understood. 'Oh, for your honour--you need not fear for that! Any knight in the armycould have done as much without prejudice to your honour. Why, you sillyloon, d'ye think I would not have been as angered as yourself, if yourhonour had been injured?' Malcolm's heart felt easier, but he still growled. 'Then, Sir, if youassure me that I can do so without detriment to my honour, I will notquit you. ' James laughed. 'It might have been more graciously spoken, my goodcousin, but I am beholden to you. ' Malcolm, ashamed and vexed at the sarcastic tone, held his tongue for alittle while, but presently exclaimed, 'Will the Bishop of Therouennehear of it?' James laughed. 'Belike not; or, if he should, it would only seem to himthe reasonable training of a young squire. ' The King did not say what crossed his own mind, that the Bishop ofTherouenne was more likely to think Henry over-strict in discipline, andabsurdly rigorous. The prelate, Charles de Luxemburg, brother to the Count de St. Pol, hadmade several visits to the English camp. He was one of these princelyyounger sons, who, like Beaufort at home, took ecclesiastical prefermentsas their natural provision, and as a footing whence they might becomestatesmen. He was a great admirer of Henry's genius, and, as the chiefFrench prelate who was heartily on the English side, enjoyed a muchgreater prominence than he could have done at either the French orBurgundian Court. He and his brother of St. Pol were Esclairmonde'snearest kinsmen--'oncles a la mode de Bretagne, ' as they call therelationship which is here sometimes termed Welsh uncle, or first cousinsonce removed--and from him James had obtained much more completeinformation about Esclairmonde than he could ever get from the flightyDuchess. Her mother, a beautiful Walloon, had been heiress to wide domains inHainault, her father to great estates in Flanders, all which were atpresent managed by the politic Bishop. Like most of thestatesman-secular-clergy, the Bishop hated nothing so much as themonastic orders, and had made no small haste to remove his fair niecefrom the convent at Dijon, where she had been educated, lest theCistercians should become possessed of her lands. He had one scheme forher marriage; but his brother, the Count, had wished to give her to hisown second son, who was almost an infant; and the Duke of Burgundy haddesigns on her for his half-brother Boemond; and among these variousdisputants, Esclairmonde had never failed to find support againstwhichever proposal was forced upon her, until the coalition between theDukes of Burgundy and Brabant becoming too strong, she had availedherself of Countess Jaqueline's discontent to evade them both. The family had, of course, been much angered, and had fully expected thather estates would go to some great English abbey, or to some English lordwhose haughty reserve and insularity would be insupportable. It wastherefore a relief to Monseigneur de Therouenne to hear James's designs;and when the King further added, that he would be willing to let theclaims on the Hainault part of her estates be purchased by the Count deSt. Pol, and those in Flanders by the Duke of Burgundy, the Bishop wasdelighted, and declared that, rather than such a negotiation should fail, he would himself advance the sum to his brother; but that the Duke ofBurgundy's consent was more doubtful, only could they not do without it? And he honoured Malcolm with a few words of passing notice from time totime, as if he almost regarded him as a relation. No doubt it would havebeen absurd to fly from such chances as these to Patrick Drummond and theopposite camp; and yet there were times when Malcolm felt as if he shouldget rid of a load on his heart if he were to break with all his presentlife, hurry to Patrick, confess the whole to him, and then--hide his headin some hermitage, leaving his pledge unforfeited! That, however, could not be. He was bound to the King, and might notdesert him, and it was not unpleasant to brood over the sacrifice of hisown displeasure. 'See, ' said Henry, in the evening, as he came into the refectory andwalked up to James, 'I have found my signet. It was left in the fingerof my Spanish glove, which I had not worn since the beginning of winter. Thanks to all who took vain pains to look for it. ' But Malcolm did not respond with his pleased look to the thanks. He wasnot in charity with Henry, and crept out of hearing of him, while Jameswas saying, 'You had best destroy one or the other, or they will makemischief. Here, I'll crush it with the pommel of my sword. ' 'Ay, ' said Henry, laughing, 'you'd like to shew off one of your sledge-hammer blows--Sir Bras de Fer! But, Master Scot, you shall not smash theEnglish shield so easily. This one hangs too loose to be safe; I shallkeep it to serve me when we have fattened up at Paris, after the leannessof our siege. ' 'Hal, ' said James, seeing his gay temper restored, 'you have grievouslyhurt that springald of mine. His northern blood cannot away with thetaste he got of your fist. ' 'Pretty well for your godly young monk, to expect to rob unchecked!'laughed Henry. 'He will do well at last, ' said James. 'Manhood has come on him with arush, and borne him off his feet; nor would I have him over-tame. ' 'There spake the Scot!' said Henry. 'By my faith, Jamie, we should havehad you the worst robber of all had we not caught you young! Well, whatam I do for this sprig of royalty? Say I struck unawares? Nay, had Iknown him, I'd have struck with as much of a will as his slight boneswould bear. ' 'An you love me, Hal, do something to cool his ill blood, and remove thesense of shame that sinks a lad in his own eyes. ' 'Methought, ' said Henry, 'there was more shame in the deed than in thebuffet. ' Nevertheless the good-natured King took an occasion of saying: 'My Lordof Glenuskie, I smote without knowing you. It was no place for aprince--nay, for any honest man; otherwise no hand should have been laidon my guest or my brother's near kinsman. And whereas I hear that bothyou and my fiery hot Percy verily credited the cry that prisoners werehid in that house, let me warn you that never was place yielded oncomposition but some villain got up the shout, and hundreds of foolsfollowed it, till they learnt villainy in their turn. Therefore I everchastise transgression of my command to touch neither dwelling norinhabitant. You have both learnt your lesson, and the lion rampant andhe of the straight tail will both be reined up better another time. ' Malcolm had no choice but to bend his head, mutter something, and let theKing grasp his hand, though to him the apology seemed none at all, butrather to increase the offence, since the blame was by no means takenback again, while the condescension was such as could not be rejected, and thus speciously took away his excuse for brooding over his wrath. Hishand lay so unwillingly in that strong hearty clasp that the King droppedit, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered to himself, 'Sullenyoung dog! No Scot can let bygones be bygones!' and then he turned awayand cast the trifle from his memory. James was amazed not to see the moody face clear up, and asked of Malcolmwhether he were not gratified with this ample satisfaction. 'I trow I must be, Sir, ' said Malcolm. 'I tell thee, boy, ' said James, 'not one king--nay, not one man--in athousand would have offered thee the frank amends King Harry hath donethis day: nay, I doubt whether even he could so have done, were it notthat the hope of his wife's coming hath made him overflow with joy andcharity to all the world. ' Malcolm did not make much reply, and James regarded him with somedisappointment. The youth was certainly warmly attached to him, butthese tokens of superiority to the faults of his time and country whichhad caused the King to seek him for a companion seemed to have vanishedwith his feebleness and timidity. The manhood that had been awakened wasnot the chivalrous, generous, and gentle strength of Henry and hisbrothers, but the punctilious pride and sullenness, and almost somethingof the license, of the Scot. The camp had not proved the school ofchivalry that James, in his inexperience, had imagined it must be underHenry, and the tedium and wretchedness of the siege had greatly added toits necessary evils by promoting a reckless temper and willingness tosnatch at any enjoyment without heed to consequences. Close attendanceon the kings had indeed prevented either Malcolm or Percy from evenhaving the temptation of running into any such lengths as those gentrywho had plundered the shrine of St. Fiacre at Breuil, or were continuallygalloping off for an interval of dissipation at Paris; but they were bothon the outlook for any snatch of stolen diversion, for in ceasing frommonastic habits Malcolm seemed to have laid aside the scruples of areligious or conscientious youth, and specially avoided Dr. Bennet, theKing's almoner. James feared he had been mistaken, and looked to the influence ofEsclairmonde to repair the evil, if perchance she should follow the Queento France. And this it was almost certain she must do, since she wasentirely dependent upon the Countess of Hainault, and could not obtainadmission to a nunnery without recovering a portion of her estates. CHAPTER IX: THE DANCE OF DEATH The Queen was coming! No sooner had the first note of surrender beensounded from the towers of Meaux, than Henry had sent intelligence toEngland that the way was open for the safe arrival of his much-lovedwife; and at length, on a sunny day in May, tidings were received thatshe had landed in France, under the escort of the Duke of Bedford. Vincennes, in the midst of its noble forest, was the place fixed for themeeting of the royal pair; and never did a happier or more brilliantcavalcade traverse those woodlands than that with which Henry rode to theappointed spot. All the winter, the King had heeded appearances as little as of old whenroughing it with Hotspur in Wales; but now his dress was of the mostroyal. On his head was a small green velvet cap, encircled by a crown inembroidery; his robe was of scarlet silk, and over it was thrown a mantleof dark green samite, thickly powdered with tiny embroidered whiteantelopes; the Garter was on his knee, the George on his neck. It was akingly garb, and well became the tall slight person and fair noblefeatures. During these tedious months he had looked wan, haggard, andcareworn; but the lines of anxiety were all effaced, his lustrous blueeyes shone and danced like Easter suns, his complexion rivalled the freshdelicate tints of the blossoms in the orchards; and when, with a shynessfor which he laughed at himself, he halted to brush away any trace ofdust that might offend the eye of his 'dainty Kate, ' and gaily asked hisbrother king if he were sufficiently pranked out for a lady's bower, James, thinking he had never seen him so handsome, replied: 'Like a young bridegroom--nay, more like a young suitor. ' 'You're jealous, Jamie--afraid of being outshone. 'Tis is your ownfault, man; none can ever tell whether you be in festal trim or not. ' For King James's taste was for sober, well-blending hues; and as he neverlapsed into Henry's carelessness, his state apparel was not veryapparently dissimilar from his ordinary dress, being generally of darkrich crimson, blue, or russet, with the St. Andrew's cross in white silkon his breast, or else the ruddy lion, but never conspicuously; and thesombre hues always seemed particularly well to suit his auburn colouring. Malcolm, in scarlet and gold, was a far gayer figure, and quite consciousof the change in his own appearance--how much taller, ruddier, andbrowner he had become; how much better he held himself both in riding andwalking; and how much awkwardness and embarrassment he had lost. Nowonder Esclairmonde had despised the sickly, timid, monkish school-boy;and if she had then shown him any sort of grace or preference, what wouldshe think of the princely young squire he could new show her, who hadseen service, had proved his valour, and was only not a knight because ofKing Henry's unkindness and King James's punctilio?--at any rate, nochild to be brow-beaten and silenced with folly about cloistraldedication, but a youth who had taken his place in the world, and couldallege that his inspiration had come through her bright eyes. Would she be there? That was the chief anxiety: for it was not certainthat either she or her mistress would risk themselves on the Continent;and Catherine had given no intimation as to who would be in her suite--sothat, as Henry had merrily observed, he was the only one in the wholeparty who was not in suspense, except indeed Salisbury, who had sent hiscommands to his little daughter to come out with the Queen. 'She is come!' cried Henry. 'Beforehand with us, after all;' and hespurred his horse on as he saw the banner raised, and the escort aroundthe gate; and in a few seconds more he and his companions had hurriedthrough the court, where the ladies had scarcely dismounted, and hastenedinto the hall, breaking into the seneschal's solemn reception of theQueen. 'My Kate, my fairest! Mine eyes have been hungry for a sight of thee. ' And Catherine, in her horned head-gear and flutter of spangled veil, wasalmost swallowed up in his hearty embrace; and the fervency of his greatlove so far warmed her, that she clung to him, and tenderly said, 'Mylord, it is long since I saw you. ' 'Thou wert before me! Ah! forgive thy tardy knight, ' he continued, gazing at her really enhanced beauty as if he had eyes for no one else, even while with lip and hand, kiss, grasp, and word, he greeted hercompanions, of whom Jaqueline of Hainault and John of Bedford were themost prominent. 'And the babe! where is he?' then cried he. 'Let me have him to hold upto my brave fellows in the court!' 'The Prince of Wales?' said Catherine. 'You never spake of my bringinghim. ' 'If I spake not, it was because I doubted not for a moment that you wouldkeep him with you. Nay, verily it is not in sooth that you left him. Youare merely sporting with use. ' 'Truly, Sir, ' said Catherine, 'I never guessed that you would clogyourself with a babe in the cradle, and I deemed him more safely nursedat Windsor. ' 'If it be for his safety! Yet a soldier's boy should thrive amongsoldiers, ' said the King, evidently much disappointed, and proceeding toeager inquiries as to the appearance and progress of his child; to whichthe Queen replied with a certain languor, as though she had no veryintimate personal knowledge of her little son. Other eyes were meanwhile eagerly scanning the bright confusion of veilsand wimples; and Malcolm had just made out the tall head and dark locksunder a long almost shrouding white veil far away in the backgroundbehind the Countess of Hainault, when the Duke of Bedford came up with afrown of consternation on his always anxious face, and drawing King Jamesinto a window, said, 'What have you been doing to him?'--to which James, without hearing the question, replied, 'Where is _she_?' 'Joan? At home. It was the Queen's will. Of that another time. Butwhat means this?' and he signed towards his brother. 'Never saw I man sochanged. ' 'Had you seen him at Christmas you might have said so, ' replied James;'but now I see naught amiss; I had been thinking I had never seen him sofair and comely. ' 'I tell you, James, ' said Bedford, contracting his brows till they almostmet ever his arched nose, 'I tell you, his look brings back to me mymother's, the last time she greeted my father!' 'To your fantasy, not your memory, John! You were a mere babe at herdeath. ' 'Of five years, ' said Bedford. 'That face--that cough--have brought allback--ay, the yearning look when my father was absent, and the pure rosyfairness that Harry and Tom cited so fiercely against one who would havetold them how sick to death she was. I mind me too, that when ourgrandame of Hereford made us motherless children over to our grandsire ofLancaster, it was with a warning that Harry had the tender lungs of theBohuns, and needed care. One deadly sickness he had at Kenilworth, whenmy father was ridden for post-haste. My mind misgave me throughout thisweary siege; but his service held me fast at home, and I trusted that youwould watch over him. ' 'A man like him is ill to guide, ' said James; 'but he is more himself nowthan he has been for months, and a few weeks' quiet with his wife willrestore him. But what is this?' he proceeded in his turn; 'why is theLady Joan not here?' 'How can I tell? It was no fault of mine. I even got a prim warningthat it became me not to meddle about her ladies, and I doubted whatslanders you might hear if I were seen asking your Nightingale for atoken. ' 'Have you none! Good John, I know you have. ' John smiled his ironical smile, produced from the pouch at his girdle asmall packet bound with rose-coloured silk, and said: 'The Nightingalehath a plume, you see, and saith, moreover, that her knight hath done hisdevoir passably, but that she yet looks to see him send some captivegiant to her feet. So, Sir Knight, I hope your poor dwarf hath acquittedhim well in your chivalrous jargon. ' James smiled and coloured with pleasure; the fantastic message was notdevoid of reality in the days when young imaginative spirits tried tohide the prose of war and policy in a bright mist of romantic fancy; norwas he ashamed to bend his manly head in reverence to, and even press tohis lips, his lady's first love-letter, in the very sight of thesatirical though sympathizing Bedford, of whom he eagerly asked of thefair Joan's health and welfare, and whether she were flouted by QueenCatherine. 'No more than is the meed of her beauty, ' said Bedford. 'Sister Katelikes not worship at any shrine save one. Look at our suite: ourknights--yea, our very grooms are picked for their comeliness; to witthat great feather-pated oaf of a Welshman, Owen Tudor there; while damesand demoiselles, tire-women and all, are as near akin as may be to SirGawain's loathly lady. ' 'Not at least the fair Luxemburg. Did not I see her stately mien?' 'She is none of the Queen's, and moreover she stands aloof, so that thewomen forgive her gifts! There is that cough of Harry's again! He isthe shadow of the man he was; I would I knew if this were the step-dame'sdoing. ' 'Nay, John, when you talk to me of Harry's cough, and of night-watchesand flooded camps, I hearken; but when your wits run wool-gathering afterthat poor woman, making waxen images stuck full--' 'You are in the right on't, James, ' said Henry, who had come up to themwhile he was speaking. 'John will never get sorceries out of his head. Ihave thought it over, and will not be led into oppressing my father'swidow any more. I cannot spend this Pentecost cheerily till I know sheis set free and restored to her manors; and I shall write to Humfrey andthe Council to that effect. ' And as John shrugged his shoulders, Henry gaily added: 'Thou seest whatcomes of a winter spent with this unbeliever Jamie; and truly, I foundthe thought of unright to my father's widow was a worse pin in my heartthan ever she is like to thrust there. ' Thus then it was, that in the overflowing joy and good-will of his heart, and mayhap with the presentiment which rendered him willing to be atpeace with all his kindred, Henry forgave and released his step-mother, Joan of Navarre, whom common rumour termed the Witch Queen, and whom hehad certainly little reason to love, whether it were true or not that shehad attempted to weave spells against him. In fact, there were few ofthe new-comers from England who did not, like Bedford, impute thetransparency of Henry's hands, and the hollowness of his brightly-tintedcheek, to some form of sorcery. Meantime, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg, more beautiful than ever under astill simpler dress, had greeted Malcolm with her wonted kindness;adding, with a smile, that he was so much grown and embrowned that sheshould not have known him but for the sweet Scottish voice which he, likehis king, possessed. 'You do me too much grace in commending aught that is mine, madame, ' saidMalcolm, with an attempt at the assurance he believed himself to haveacquired; but he could only finish by faltering and blushing. There wasa power of repression about Esclairmonde that annihilated all hisdesigns, and drove him back into his bashful self whenever he came intocontact with her, and felt how unlike the grave serene loftiness of herpresence was to the mere queen of romance, that in her absence her shadowhad become. Alice Montagu, returning to her side, relieved while disconcerting him. Sweet little Alice had been in a continual flutter ever since commandshad come from Meaux that she was to come out to meet the father whom shehad not seen since what seemed like half her childish lifetime, and thebetrothed whom she had never seen at all; and Lady Westmoreland had addedto her awe by the lengthened admonition with which she took leave of her. And on this day, when Esclairmonde herself had arrayed the fair child inthe daintiest of rose-pink boddices edged with swan's-down, the whitestof kirtles, and softest of rosy veils, the flush of anxiety on the palelittle face made it so fair to look upon, that as the maiden wistfullyasked, 'Think you he will flout me?' it was impossible not to laugh atthe very notion. 'Ah! but I would be glad if he did, for then I mightbide with you. ' When, in the general greeting, Alice had been sought out by a tall, dark-browed, grizzled warrior, Esclairmonde had, cruelly, as the maidenthought, kept her station behind the Countess, and never stirred for allthose wistful backward glances, but left her alone to drop on her knee toseek the blessing of the mighty old soldier. And now she was holding his great hand, almost as tough as his gauntlets, and leading him up to her friend, while he louted low, and spoke with agrand fatherly courtesy: 'Fair demoiselle, this silly wench of mine tells me that you have beengood friend to her, and I thank you for the same with all mine heart. ' 'Silly' was a fond term of love then, and had all the affection of aproud father in it, as the Earl of Salisbury patted the small softfingers in his grasp. 'Truly, my lord, ' responded Esclairmonde, 'the Lady Alice hath been mysweetest companion, friend, and sister, for these many months. ' 'Nay, child, art worthy to be called friend by such a lady as this? Ifso, I shall deem my little Alice grown a woman indeed, as it is time shewere--Diccon Nevil is bent on the wedding before we go to the warsagain. ' Alice coloured like a damask rose, and hid her face behind her friend. 'Hast seen him, sweet?' asked Esclairmonde, when Salisbury had beencalled away. 'Is he here?' 'Yes; out there--he with the white bull on his surcoat, ' said Alice, dreading to look that way. 'And hast spoken with him?' asked the lady next, feeling as if the stout, commonplace, hardy-looking soldier she saw was scarce what she would havechosen for her little wild rose of an Alice, comely and brave though hewere. 'He hath kissed mine hand, ' faltered Alice, but it was quite crediblethat not a word had passed. The marriage was a business contract betweenthe houses of Wark and Raby, and a grand speculation for Sir RichardNevil, that was all; but gentle Alice had no reluctance beyond meremaidenly shyness, and unwillingness to enter on an unknown future under anew lord. She even whispered to her dear Clairette that she was glad SirRichard never tormented her by talking to her, and that he was grave, andso old. 'So old? why, little one, he can scarce be seven-and-twenty!' 'And is not that old? oh, so old!' said Alice. 'Able to take care of me. I would not have a youth like that young Lord of Glenuskie. Ohno--never!' 'That is well, ' said Esclairmonde, smiling; 'but wherefore put suchdisdain in thy voice, Alice? He used to be our playfellow, and he hathgrown older and more manly in this year. ' 'His boyhood was better than such manhood, ' said Alice; 'he was more tomy taste when he was meek, than now that he seems to say, "I would besaucy if I durst. " And he hath not the stuff to dare any way. ' 'Fie! fie! Alice, you are growing slanderous. ' 'Nay, now, Clairette, own verily--you feel the like!' 'Hush, silly one, what skills it? Youths must pass through temptation;and if his king hindered his vocation, maybe the poor lad may rue itsorely, but methinks he will come to the right at last. It were betterto say a prayer for his faults than to speak evil of them, Alice. ' Poor Malcolm! He was at that very moment planning with an embroiderer arobe wherein to appear, covered with flashes of lightning transfixing theworld, and mottoes around--'Esclaire mais Embrase' Every moment that he was absent from Esclairmonde was spent in composingchivalrous discourses in which to lay himself at her feet, but the meresight of her steady dark eyes scattered them instantly from his memory;and save for very shame he would have entreated King James again to breakthe ice for him, since the lady evidently supposed that she had last yearentirely quashed his suit. And in this mood Malcolm mounted and took hisplace to ride into Paris, where the King wished to arrive in the evening, and with little preparation, so as to avoid the weary length of a statereception, with all its speeches and pageants. In the glow of a May evening the cavalcade passed the gates, and enteredthe city, where the streets were so narrow that it was often impossibleto ride otherwise than two and two. The foremost had emerged into anopen space before a church and churchyard, when there was a sudden pause, a shock of surprise. All across the space, blocking up the way, was anenormous line of figures, looking shadowy in the evening light, andbearing the insignia of every rank and dignity that earth presented. Popes were there, with triple crown and keys, and fanned by peacocktails; scarlet-matted and caped cardinals, mitred and crosiered bishops, crowned and sceptred kings, ermined dukes, steel-clad knights, gownedlawyers, square-capped priests, cowled monks, and friars of everydegree--nay, the mechanic with his tools, the peasant with his spade, even the beggar within his dish; old men, and children of every age; andwomen too of all grades--the tower-crowned queen, the beplumed dame, thelofty abbess, the veiled nun, the bourgeoise, the peasant, thebeggar;--all were there, moving in a strange shadowy wild dance, sometimes slow, sometimes swift and mad with gaiety, to the music of anunseen band of clashing kettle-drums, cymbals, and other instruments, that played fast and furiously; while above all a knell in the churchtower rang forth at intervals a slow, deep, lugubrious note; and all thetime there glided in and out through the ring a grislybeing--skull-headed, skeleton-boned, scythe in hand--Death himself; andever and anon, when the dance was swiftest, would he dart into the midst, pounce on one or other, holding an hour-glass to the face, unheedingrank, sex, or age, and bear his victim to the charnel-house beside thechurch. It was a sight as though some terrible sermon had taken life, asthough the unseen had become visible, the veil were taken away; and theimplicit unresisting obedience of the victims added to the sense of awfulreality and fatality. The advance of the victorious King Henry made no difference to thecontinuousness of the frightful dance; nay, it was plain that he was butin the presence of a monarch yet more victorious than himself, and themazes wound on, the performers being evidently no phantoms, but assubstantial as those who beheld them; nay, the grisly ring began toabsorb the royal suite within itself, and an awe-stricken silenceprevailed--at least, where Malcolm Stewart and Ralf Percy were ridingtogether. Neither lad durst ask the other what it meant. They thought they knewtoo well. Percy ceased not for one moment to cross himself, and mutterinvocations to the saints; Malcolm's memory and tongue alike seemed inertand paralyzed with horror--his brain was giddy, his eyes stretched open;and when Death suddenly turned and darted in his direction, one horriblegush of thought--'Fallen, fallen! Lost, lost! No confession!'--cameover him; he would have sobbed out an entreaty for mercy and for apriest, but it became a helpless shriek; and while Percy's sword flashedbefore his eyes, he felt himself falling, death-stricken, to the earth, and knew no more. 'There--he moved, ' said a voice above him. 'How now, Glenuskie?' cried Ralf Percy. 'Look up; I verily thought youwere sped by Death in bodily shape; but 'twas all an abominable grislypageant got up by some dismal caitiffs. ' 'It was the Danse Macabre, ' added the sweet tone that did indeed uncloseMalcolm's eyes, to see Esclairmonde bending over him, and holding wine tohis lips. Ralf raised him that he might swallow it, and looking round, he saw that he was in a small wainscoted chamber, with an old burgherwoman, Ralf Percy, and Esclairmonde; certainly not in the other world. Hestrove to ask 'what it meant, ' and Esclairmonde spoke again: 'It is the Danse Macabre; I have seen it in Holland. It was invented asa warning to those of sinful life, and this good woman tells me it hasbecome the custom to enact it every evening at this churchyard of theHoly Innocents. ' 'A custom I devoutly hope King Harry will break!' exclaimed Ralf. 'Ifnot, I'll some day find the way between those painted ribs of Monseigneurde la Mort, I can tell him! I had nearly given him a taste of my swordas it was, only some Gascon rogue caught my arm, and he was off ere Icould get free. So I jumped off, that your poor corpse should not betrodden by French heels; and I hardly know how it was, but the LadyEsclairmonde was by my side as I dragged you out, and caused these goodfolks to let me bring you in behind their shop. ' 'Lady, lady, I am for ever beholden, ' cried Malcolm, gathering himself upas if to fall at her feet, and his heart bounding high with joy, for thiswas from death to life indeed. 'I saw there was some one hurt, ' said Esclairmonde in her repressivemanner. 'Drink some more wine, eat this bread, and you will be able toride to the Hotel de St. Pol. ' 'Oh, lady, let me speak of my bliss!' and he snatched at her hand, butwas still so dizzy that he sank back, becoming aware that he was stiffand bruised from his fall. Almost at the same moment a new step andvoice were heard in the little open booth where the cutler displayed hiswares, and King James was at once admitted. 'How goes it, laddie?' he asked. 'They told me grim Death had clutchedyou and borne you off to his charnel-house; but at least I see an angelhas charge of you. ' Esclairmonde slightly coloured as she made answer: 'I saw some one fall, and came to offer my poor skill, Sir; but as theSieur de Glenuskie is fast recovering, if you will permit Sir Nigel Bairdto attend me, Sir, I will at once return. ' 'I am ready--I am not hurt. Oh, let us go together!' panted Malcolm, leaping up. 'Eh, gentlemen!' exclaimed the hospitable cutler's wife; 'you will notaway so fast! This gallant knight will permit you to remain. And thefair lady, she will do me the honour to drink a cup of wine to therecovery of her betrothed. ' 'Not so, good woman, ' said Esclairmonde, a little apart, 'I am thebetrothed of Heaven. I only assisted because I feared the youth's fallwas more serious than it proves. ' The bourgeoise begged pardon, and made a curtsey; there was nothingunusual in the avowal the lady had made, when the convent was athoroughly recognized profession; but Esclairmonde could not carry outher purpose of departing separately with old Sir Nigel Baird; Malcolm wason his feet, quite ready to mount, and there was no avoiding the beingassisted to her saddle by any but the King, who was in truth quite asobjectionable a companion, as far as appearances went, for a youngsolitary maiden, as was Malcolm himself. Esclairmonde felt that herbenevolence might have led her into a scrape. When she had seen thefall, knowing that to the unprepared the ghastly pageant must seemreality, she had obeyed the impulse to hurry to the rescue, to consoleand aid in case of injury, and she had not even perceived that her femalecompanions did not attempt to accompany her. However, the mischancecould best be counteracted by simplicity and unconsciousness; so, as shefound herself obliged to ride by the King, she unconcernedly observedthat these fantastic dances might perhaps arouse sinners, but that theywere a horrible sight for the unprepared. 'Very like a dream becoming flesh and blood, ' said James. 'We in advancewere slow to perceive what it was, and then the King merely thoughtwhether it would alarm the Queen. ' 'I trow it did not. ' 'No; the thing has not been found that will stir her placid face. Shemerely said it was very lugubrious, and an ill turn in the Parisians thusto greet her, but they were always senseless _betes_; and he, beingrelieved of care for her, looked with all his eyes, with a strangemixture of drollery at the antics and the masques, yet of grave musing atthe likeness to this present life. ' 'I think, ' said Esclairmonde, 'that King Henry is one of the few men towhom the spectacle _is_ a sermon. He laughs even while he lays a thingto heart. ' These few sentences had brought them to the concourse around the gatewayof the great Hotel de St. Pol, in whose crowded courtyard Esclairmondehad to dismount; and, after being handed through the hall by King James, to make her way to the ladies' apartments, and there find out, what shewas most anxious about, how Alice, who had been riding at some distancefrom her with her father, had fared under the alarm. Alice ran up to her eagerly. 'Ah, dear Clairette, and was he greatlyhurt?' 'Not much; he had only swooned for fright. ' 'Swooned! to be a prince, and not have the heart of a midge!' 'And how was it with you, you very wyvern for courage?' 'With me? Oh, I was somewhat appalled at first, when my father took holdof my rein, and bade me never fear; for I saw his face grow amazed. SirRichard Nevil rode up on the other side, and said the hobgoblins shouldeat out his heart ere they hurt me; and I looked into his face as he saidthat, and liked it more than ever I thought to like any but yours, Clairette. I think my father was going to leave me to him and seewhether the King needed some one to back him; but up came a French lord, and said 'twas all a mere show, and my father said he was glad I was astout-hearted wench that had never cried out for fear; and then I was sopleased, that I never heeded the ugly sight any more. Ay, and when SirRichard lifted me off my horse, he kissed my hand of his own accord. ' 'This is all he has ever said to you?' said Esclairmonde, smiling. 'Itis like an Englishman--to the purpose. ' 'Yea, is it not? Oh! is it not better than all the fine speeches andcompliments that Joan Beaufort gets from her Scottish king?' 'They have truths in them too, child. ' 'Ay; but too fine-spun, too minstrel-like, for a plain English maid. Thehobgoblins should eat out his heart ere they touched me!' she repeated toherself, as though the saying were the most poetical concert sung onminstrel lover's lute. Death's Dance had certainly brought this affianced pair to a betterunderstanding than all the gayest festivities of the Court. Esclairmonde would have been happy if no one had noticed her benevolenceto the young Scot save Alice Montagu; but she had to endure countlessrailleries from every lady, from Countess Jaqueline downwards, on theunmistakable evidence that her heart had spoken; and her grave dignityhad less effect in silencing them than usual, so diverting was thealleged triumph over her propriety, well as they knew that she would havedone the same for the youngest horse-boy, or the oldest man-at-arms. CHAPTER X: THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL 'Lady, fairest lady! Ah, suffer your slave to fall at your feet with histhanks!' 'No thanks are due, Sir. I knew not who had fallen. ' 'Cruel coyness! Take not away the joy that has fed a hungry heart. ' 'Lord Glenuskie's heart was wont to hunger for better joys. ' 'Lady, I have ceased to be a foolish boy. ' 'Such foolishness was better than some men's wisdom. ' 'Listen, belle demoiselle. I have been forth into the world, and havelearnt to see that monasteries have become mere haunts for the sluggard, who will not face the world; and that honour, glory, and all that isworth living for, lie beyond. Ah, lady! those eyes first taught me whatlife could give. ' 'Hush, Sir!' said Esclairmonde. 'I can believe that as a child youmistook your vocation, and the secular life may be blest to you; but withme it can never be so; and if any friendship were shown to you on mypart, it was when I deemed that we were brother and sister in our vows. If I unwittingly inspired any false hopes, I must do penance for theevil. ' 'Call it not evil, lady, ' entreated Malcolm. 'It cannot be evil to havewakened me to life and hope and glory. ' 'What should you call it in him who should endeavour to render Lady JoanBeaufort faithless to your king, Lord Malcolm? What then must it be totempt another to break troth-plight to the King of Heaven?' 'Nay, madame, ' faltered Malcolm; 'but if such troth were forbidden andimpossible?' 'None has the right or power to cancel mine, ' replied the lady. 'Yet, ' he still entreated, 'your kindred are mighty. ' 'But my Bridegroom is mightier, ' she said. 'O lady, yet--Say, at least, ' cried Malcolm, eagerly, 'that were you freein your own mind to wed, at least you would less turn from me than fromthe others proposed to you. ' 'That were saying little for you, ' said Esclairmonde, half smiling. 'But, Sir, ' she added gravely, 'you have no right to put the question; and Iwill say nothing on which you can presume. ' 'You were kinder to me in England, ' sighed Malcolm, with tears in hiseyes. 'Then you seemed as one like-minded, ' she answered. 'And, ' he cried, gathering fresh ardour, 'I would be like-minded again. You would render me so, sweetest lady. I would kiss your every step, pray with you, bestow alms with you, found churches, endow your Beguines, and render our change from our childish purpose a blessing to the wholeworld; become your very slave, to do your slightest bidding. O lady, could I but give you my eyes to see what it might be!' 'It could not be, if we began with a burthened conscience, ' saidEsclairmonde. 'We have had enough of this, Sieur de Glenuskie. You knowthat with me it is no matter of likes or dislikes, but that I am under avow, which I will never break! Make way, Sir. ' He could but obey: she was far too majestic and authoritative to begainsaid. And Malcolm, in an access of misery, stood lost to all theworld, kneeling in the window-seat, where she had left him resting hishead against the glass, when suddenly a white plump hand was laid on hisshoulder, and a gay voice cried: 'All _a la mort_, my young damoiseau! What, has our saint beenunpropitious? Never mind, you shall have her yet. We will see her likethe rest of the world, ere we have done within her!' And Malcolm found himself face to face with the free-spoken Jaqueline ofHainault. 'You are very good, madame, ' he stammered. 'You shall think me very good yet! I have no notion of being opposed bya little vassal of mine; and we'll succeed, if it were but for the fun ofthe thing! Monseigneur de Therouenne is on your side, or would be, if hewere sure of the Duke of Burgundy. You see, these prelates hate nothingso much as the religious orders; and all the pride of the Luxemburgs isin arms against Clairette's fancy for those beggarly nursing Sisters; soit drives him mad to hear her say she only succoured you for charity. Hethinks it a family disgrace, that can only be wiped off by marrying herto you; and he would do it _bon gre, mal gre_, but that he waits to hearwhat Burgundy will say. You have only to hold out, and she shall beyours, if I hold her finger while you put on the ring. Only let us besure of Burgundy. ' This was not a very flattering way of obtaining a bride; but Malcolm wasconvinced that when once married to Esclairmonde, his devotion wouldatone to her for all that was unpleasant in obtaining her. At least, sheloved no one else; she had even allowed that she had once thought himlike-minded; she had formerly distinguished him; and nothing lay betweenthem but her scruples; and when they were overcome, by whatever means, his idol would be his, to adore, to propitiate, to win by the mostintense devotion. All now must, however, turn upon the Duke of Burgundy, without whose sanction Madame of Hainault would be afraid to act openly. The Duke was expected at Paris for the Whitsuntide festival, which was tobe held with great state. The custom was for the Kings of France tofeast absolutely with all Paris, with interminable banquet tables, opento the whole world without question. And to this Henry had conformed onhis first visit to the city; but he had learnt that the costly and lavishfeast had been of very little benefit to the really distressed, who hadbeen thrust aside by loud-voiced miscreants and sturdy beggars, such ashad no shame in driving the feeble back with blows, and receiving theirown share again and again. By the advice of Dr. Bennet, his almoner, he was resolved that thisshould not happen again; that the feast should be limited to the officialguests, and that the cost of the promiscuous banquet should bedistributed to those who really needed it, and who should be reachedthrough their parish priests and the friars known to be most charitable. Dr. Bennet, as almoner, with the other chaplains, was to arrange thematter; and horrible was the distress that he discovered in the city, that had for five-and-twenty years been devastated by civil fury, as wellas by foreign wars; and famines, pestilences, murders, and tyrannies hadheld sway, so as to form an absolute succession of reigns of terror. Thepoor perished like flies in a frost; the homeless orphans of the parentsmurdered by either faction roamed the streets, and herded in the cornerslike the vagrant dogs of Eastern cities; and meantime, the nobles andtheir partisans revelled in wasteful pomp. Scholar as he was, Dr. Bennet was not familiar enough with Parisian waysnot to be very grateful for aid from Esclairmonde in some of hisconferences, and for her explanations of the different tastes and needsof French and English poor. What she saw and heard, on the other hand, gave form and purpose to heraspirations. The Dutch Sisters of St. Bega, the English Bedeswomen ofSt. Katharine, were sorely needed at Paris. They would gather up thesufferers, collect the outcast children, feed the hungry, follow withbalm wherever a wound had been. To found a Beguinage at Paris seemed toher the most befitting mode of devoting her wealth; and her littleadmirer, Alice, gave up her longing desire that the foundation should bein England, when she learned that, as the wife of Nevil, her abode waslikely to be in France as long as that country required Englishgarrisons. To the young heiress of Salisbury, her own marriage, though close athand, seemed a mere ordinary matter compared with Esclairmonde'sBeguinage, to her the real romance. Never did she see a beggar crouchingat the church door, without a whisper to herself that there was a subjectfor the Beguines; and, tender-hearted as she was, she looked quitegratified at any lamentable tale which told the need. If Esclairmonde had a climax to her visions of her brown-robed messengersof mercy, it was that the holy Canon of St. Agnes should be induced tocome and act the part of master to her bedeswomen, as did Master Kedbesbyat home. She had even dared to murmur her design to Dr. Bennet; and when he, understrict seal of secrecy, had sounded King Henry, the present real masterof Paris, he reported that the tears had stood in the King's eyes for amoment, as he said, 'Blessings on the maiden! Should she be able to dothis for this city, I shall know that Heaven hath indeed sent a blessingby my arms!' For one brief week, Esclairmonde and Alice were very happy in this secrethope; but at the end of that time the Bishop of Therouenne appeared. Esclairmonde had ventured to hope that the King's influence, and likewisethe fact that her intention was not to enrich one of the regular monasticorders, might lead him to lend a favourable ear to her scheme; but shewas by no means prepared to find him already informed of the affair ofthe Dance of Death, and putting his own construction on it. 'So, my fair cousin, this is the end of your waywardness. The tokenswere certainly somewhat strong; but the young gentleman's birth beingequal to yours, after the spectacle you have presented, your uncle of St. Pol, and I myself, must do our utmost to obtain the consent of the Dukeof Burgundy. ' 'Monseigneur is mistaken, ' said Esclairmonde. 'Child, we will have no more folly. You have flown after this young Scotin a manner fitted only for the foolish name your father culled for youout of his books of chivalry. You have given a lesson to the whole Courtand city on the consequences of a damsel judging for herself, and runninga mad course over the world, instead of submitting to her guardians. ' 'The Court understands my purpose as well as you do, Monseigneur. ' 'Silence, Mademoiselle. Your convent obstinacy is ended for ever now, since to send you to one would be to appear to hide a scandal. ' 'I do not wish to enter a convent, ' said Esclairmonde. 'My desire is todedicate my labour and my substance to the foundation of a house here atParis, such as are the Beguinages of our Netherlands, ' The Bishop held up his hands. He had never heard of such lunacy and itangered him, as such purposes are wont to anger worldly-hearted men. Thata lady of Luxemburg should have such vulgar tastes as to wish to be aBeguine was bad enough; but that Netherlandish wealth should be devotedto support the factious poor of Paris was preposterous. Neither the Dukeof Burgundy, nor her uncle of St. Pol, would allow a sou to pass out oftheir grasp for so absurd a purpose; the Pope would give no license--aboveall to a vain girl, who had helped a wife to run away from herhusband--for new religious houses; and, unless Esclairmonde was preparedto be landless, penniless, and the scorn of every one, for her wildbehaviour, she must submit, _bon gre, mal gre_, to become the wife of theScottish prince. 'Landless and penniless then will I be, Monseigneur, ' said Esclairmonde. 'Was not poverty the bride of St. Francis?' The Bishop made a growl of contempt; but recollecting himself, and hisrespect for the saint, began to argue that what was possible for a man, amere merchant's son, an inspired saint besides, was not possible to adamsel of high degree, and that it was mere presumption, vanity, andobstinacy in her to appeal to such a precedent. There was something in this that struck Esclairmonde, for she wasconscious of a certain satisfaction in her plan of being the first tointroduce a Beguinage at Paris, and that she was to a certain degreeproud of her years of constancy to her high purpose; and she looked justso far abashed that the uncle saw his advantage, and discoursed on thedanger of attempting to be better than other people, and of trying tovapour in spiritual heights, to all of which she attempted no reply; tillat last he broke up the interview by saying, 'There, then, child; allwill be well. I see you are coming to a better mind. ' 'I hope I am, Monseigneur, ' she replied, with lofty meekness; 'butscarcely such as you mean. ' Alice Montagu's indignation knew no bounds. What! was this noblevotaress to be forced, not only to resign the glory of being thefoundress of a new order of beneficence, but to be married, just likeeverybody else, and to that wretched little coward? Boemond of Burgundywas better than that, for he at least was a man! 'No, no, Alice, ' said Esclairmonde, with a shudder; 'any one rather thanthe Burgundian! It is shame even to compare the Scot!' 'He may not be so evil in himself, ' said Alice; 'but with a brave man youhave only his own sins, while a coward has all those other people mayfrighten him into. ' 'He bore himself manfully in battle, ' said the fair Fleming in reproof. But Alice answered with the scorn that sits so quaintly on the gentledaughter of a bold race: 'Ay, where he would have been more afraid to runthan to stand. ' 'You are hard on the Scot, ' said Esclairmonde. 'Maybe it is because theNevils of Raby are Borderers, ' she added, smiling; and, as Alice likewisesmiled and blushed, 'Now, if it were not for this madness, I could likethe youth. I would fain have had him for a brother that I could takecare of. ' 'But what will you do, Esclairmonde?' 'Trust, ' said she, sighing. 'Maybe, my pride ought to be broken; and Imay have to lay aside all my hopes and plans, and become a mere servingsister, to learn true humility. Anyhow, I verily trust to my HeavenlySpouse to guard me for himself. If the Duke of Burgundy still maintainsBoemond's suit, then in the dissension I see an escape. 'And my father will defend you; and so will Sir Richard, ' said Alice, with complacent certainty in their full efficiency. 'And King Harry willinterfere; and we _will_ have your hospital; ay, we _will_. How can youtalk so lightly of abandoning it?' 'I only would know what is human pride, and what God's will, ' sighedEsclairmonde. The Duke arrived with his two sisters, his wife being left at home in badhealth, and took up his abode at the Hotel de Bourgogne, whence he cameat once to pay his respects to the King of England; the poor King ofFrance, at the Hotel de St. Pol, being quite neglected. Esclairmonde and Alice stood at a window, and watched the arrival of themagnificent cavalcade, attended by a multitude, ecstatically shouting, 'Noel Noel! Long live Philippe le Bon! Blessings on the mighty Duke!'While seated on a tall charger, whose great dappled head, jewelled andbeplumed, could alone be seen amid his sweeping housings, bowing rightand left, waving his embroidered gloved hand in courtesy, was seen thestately Duke, in the prime of life, handsome-faced, brilliantly coloured, dazzlingly arrayed in gemmed robes, so that Alice drew a long breath ofwonder and exclaimed, 'This Duke is a goodly man; he looks like theemperor of us all!' But when he had entered the hall, conducted by John of Bedford and Edmundof March, had made his obeisance to Henry, and had been presented by himto King James, Alice, standing close behind her queen, recollected thatshe had once heard Esclairmonde say, 'Till I came to England I deemedchivalry a mere gaudy illusion. ' Duke Philippe would not bear close inspection; the striking features andfull red lips, that had made so effective an appearance in the gayprocession seen from a distance, seemed harsh, haughty, and sensual nearat hand, and when brought into close contact with the strange brightstern purity, now refined into hectic transparency, of King Henry's face, the grand and melancholy majesty of the royal Stewart's, or even thespare, keen, irregular visage of John of Bedford. And while his robeswere infinitely more costly than--and his ornaments tenfoldoutnumbered--all that the three island princes wore, yet no critical eyecould take him for their superior, even though his tone in addressing aninferior was elaborately affable and condescending, and theirs was alwaysthe frankness of an equal. Where they gave the sense of pure gold, heseemed like some ruder metal gilt and decorated; as if theirs werereality, his the imitation; theirs the truth, his the display. But in reality his birth was as princely as theirs; and no monarch inEurope, not even Henry, equalled him in material resources; he wasidolized by the Parisians; and Henry was aware that France had been madeover to England more by his revenge for his father's murder at Montereauthan by the victory at Agincourt. Therefore the King endured his grandtalk about _our_ arms and _our_ intentions; and for Malcolm's sake, Jamessubmitted to a sort of patronage, as if meant to imply that if Philippethe Magnificent chose to espouse the cause of a captive king, his ransomwould be the merest trifle. When Henry bade him to the Pentecostal banquet, 'when kings keep state, 'he graciously accepted the invitation for himself and his two sisters, Marguerite, widow of the second short-lived Dauphin, and Anne, stillunmarried; but when Henry further explained his plan of feasting merelywith the orderly, and apportioning the food in real alms, the Duke by nomeans approved. 'Feed those miserables!' he said. 'One gains nothing thereby! They makeno noise; whereas if you affront the others, who know how to cry out, they will revile you like dogs! 'I will not be a slave to the rascaille, ' said Henry. 'Ah, my fair lord, you, a victor, may dispense with these cares; but fora poor little prince like me, it is better to reign in men's hearts thanon their necks. ' 'In the hearts of honest men--on the necks of knaves, ' said Henry. Philippe shrugged his shoulders. He was wise in his own generation; forhe had all the audible voices in Paris on his side, while the cavils atHenry's economy have descended to the present time. 'Do you see your rival, Sir?' said the voice of the Bishop of Therouennein Malcolm's ear, just as the Duke had begun to rise to take leave; andhe pointed out a knight of some thirty years, glittering with gay devicesfrom head to foot, and showing a bold proud visage, exaggerating theharshness of the Burgundian lineaments. Malcolm shuddered, and murmured, 'Such a pearl to such a hog!' And meanwhile, King James, stepping forward, intimated to the Duke thathe would be glad of an interview with him. Philippe made some ostentation of his numerous engagements with men ofChurch and State; but ended by inviting the King of Scotland to sup withhim that evening, if his Grace would forgive travellers' fare and asimple reception. Thither accordingly James repaired on foot, attended only by Sir Nigeland Malcolm, with a few archers of the royal guard, in case torchesshould be wanted on the way home. How magnificent were the surroundings of the great Duke, it would bewearisome to tell. The retainers in the court of the hotel looked, asJames said, as if honest steel and good cloth were reckoned as churls, and as if this were the very land of Cockaigne, as Sir RichardWhittington had dreamt it. Neither he nor St. Andrew himself would knowtheir own saltire made in cloth of silver, 'the very metal to tarnish!' Sir Nigel had to tell their rank, ere the porters admitted the smallcompany: but the seneschal marshalled them forward in full state. AndJames never looked more the king than when, in simple crimson robe, thepure white cross on his breast, his auburn hair parted back from hisnoble brow, he stood towering above all heads, passively receiving theDuke of Burgundy's elaborate courtesies and greetings, nor seeming tonote the lavish display of gold and silver, meant to amaze the poorestking in Europe. Exceeding was the politeness shown to him--even to the omission of theseneschal's tasting each dish presented to the Duke, a recognition of thepresence of a sovereign that the two Scots scarcely understood enough forgratitude. Malcolm was the best off of the two at the supper; for James had ofcourse to be cavalier to the sickly fretful-looking Dauphiness, whileMalcolm fell to the lot of the Lady Anne, who, though not beautiful, hada kindly hearty countenance and manner, and won his heart by askingwhether the Demoiselle de Luxemburg were still in the suite of Madame ofHainault; and then it appeared that she had been her convent mate andwarmest friend and admirer in their girlish days at Dijon, and was nowlonging to see her. Was she as much set as ever on being a nun? Meantime, the Duke was pompously making way for the King of Scots toenter his cabinet, where--with a gold cup before each, a dish of comfitsand a stoup of wine between them--their interview was to take place. 'These dainties accord with a matter of ladies' love, ' said James, as theDuke handed him a sugar heart transfixed by an arrow. 'Good, good, ' said Philippe. 'The alliance is noble and our crowns andinfluence might be a good check in the north to your mighty neighbour;nor would I be hard as to her dowry. Send me five score yearly of suchknaves as came with Buchan, and I could fight the devil himself. Amorning gift might be specified for the name of the thing--but weunderstand one another. ' 'I am not certain of that, Sir, ' said James, smiling; 'though I see youmean me kindly. ' 'Nay, now, ' continued Philippe, 'I know how to honour royalty, even indurance; nor will I even press Madame la Dauphine on you instead of Anne, though it were better for us all if she could have her wish and become aqueen, and you would have her jointure--if you or any one else can getit. ' 'Stay, my Lord Duke, ' said James, with dignity, 'I spake not of myself, deeming that it was well known that my troth is plighted. ' 'How?' said Burgundy, amazed, but not offended. 'Methought the House ofSomerset was a mere bastard slip, with which even King Henry with all hisinsolence could not expect you to wed in earnest. However, we may keepour intentions secret awhile; and then, with your lances and myresources, English displeasure need concern you little. ' James, who had learned self-control in captivity, began politely toexpress himself highly honoured and obliged. 'Do not mention it. Royal blood, thus shamefully oppressed, must commandthe aid of all that is chivalrous. Speak, and your ransom is at yourservice. ' The hot blood rushed into James's cheek at this tone of condescension;but he answered, with courteous haughtiness: 'Of myself, Sir Duke, thereis no question. My ransom waits England's willingness to accept it; andmy hand is not free, even for the prize you have the goodness to offer. Icame not to speak of myself. ' 'Not to make suit for my sister, nor my intercession!' exclaimedPhilippe. 'I make suit to no man, ' said James; then, recollecting himself, 'if Idid so, no readier friend than the Duke of Burgundy could be found. Idid in effect come to propose an alliance between one of my own house anda fair vassal of yours. ' 'Ha! the runaway jade of Luxemburg!' cried Burgundy; 'the most headstronggirl who lives! She dared to plead her foolish vows against my brotherBoemond, fled with that other hoyden of Hainault, and now defies me bycoming here. I'll have her, and make her over to Boemond to tame herpride, were she in the great Satan's camp instead of King Henry's. ' And this is the mirror of chivalry! thought James. But he persevered inhis explanation of his arrangement for permitting the estates ofEsclairmonde de Luxemburg to be purchased from her and her husband, should that husband be Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie; and he soon foundthat these terms would be as acceptable to the Duke as they had alreadyproved to her guardian, Monseigneur de Therouenne. Money was nothing toPhilippe; but his policy was to absorb the little seignoralties that layso thick in these border lands of the Empire; and what he desired aboveall, was to keep them from either passing into the hands of the Church, or from consolidating into some powerful principality, as would have beenthe case had Esclairmonde either entered a convent or married youngWaleran de Luxemburg, her cousin. Therefore he had striven to force onher his half-brother, who would certainly never unite any inheritance tohers; but he much preferred the purchase of her Hainault lands; and hadno compunction in throwing over Boemond, except for a certain lurkingdesire that the lady's contumacy should be chastised by a lord who wouldbeat her well into subjection. He would willingly have made a great showof generosity, and have laid James under an obligation; and yet by theKing's dignified tone of courtesy he was always reduced to the air of onesoliciting rather than conferring a favour. Finally, Malcolm was called in, and presented to the Duke, making his ownpromise on his word of honour as a prince, and giving a written bond, that so soon as he obtained the hand of the Demoiselle de Luxemburg hewould resign her Hainault estates to the Duke of Burgundy for a sum ofmoney, to be fixed by persons chosen for the purpose. This was more like earnest than anything Malcolm had yet obtained; and hewent home exulting and exalted, his doubts as to Esclairmonde's consentalmost silenced, when he counted up the forces that were about to bearupon her. And they did descend upon her. Countess Jaqueline had been joined byother and more congenial Flemish dames, and was weary of her gravemonitress; and she continually scolded at Esclairmonde for perversenessand obstinacy in not accepting the only male thing she had ever favoured. The Bishop of Therouenne threatened and argued; and the Duke of Burgundyhimself came to enforce his commands to his refractory vassal, and onfinding her still unsubmissive, flew into a rage, and rated her as few_could_ have done, save Philippe, called the Good. All she attempted to answer was, that they were welcome to her lands, sothey would leave her person free; her vows were not to man, but to God, and God would protect her. It was an answer that seemed specially to enrage her persecutors, whoretorted by telling her that such protection was only extended to thosewho obeyed lawful authority; and hints were thrown out that, if she didnot submit willingly, she might find herself married forcibly, for abishop could afford to disregard the resistance of a bride. Would Malcolm--would his king--consent to her being thus treated? As to Malcolm, he seemed to her too munch changed for her to reckon onwhat remnant of good feeling there might be to appeal to in him. AndJames, though he was certain not to permit palpable coercion in hispresence, or even if he were aware that it was contemplated, seemed tohave left the whole management of the affair to Esclairmonde's ownguardians; and they would probably avoid driving matters to extremitiesthat would revolt him, while he was near enough for an appeal. AndEsclairmonde was too uncertain whether her guardians would resort to suchlengths, or whether it were not a vain threat of the giddy Countess, tocompromise her dignity by crying out before she was hurt; and she had nosecurity, save that she was certain that in the English household of KingHenry such violence would not be attempted; and out of reach of thatprotection she never ventured. Once she said to Henry, 'My only hope is in God and in you, my lord. ' And Henry bent his head, saying, 'Noble lady, I cannot interfere; butwhile you are in my house, nothing can be done with you against yourwill. ' Yet even Henry was scarcely what he had been in all-pervading vigilanceand readiness. Like all real kings of men, he had been his own primeminister, commander-in-chief, and private secretary, transacting amarvellous amount of business with prompt completeness; and when, in themidst of shattered health which he would not avow, the cares of twokingdoms, and the generalship of an army, with all its garrisons, restedon him, his work would hardly have been accomplished but for hisbrother's aid. It was never acknowledged, often angrily disdained. Butwhen John of Bedford had watched the terrible lassitude and lethargy thatweighed on the King at times in the midst of his cabinet work, he wasconstantly on the watch to relieve him; and his hand and style so closelyresembled Henry's that the difference could scarce be detected, and hecould do what none other durst attempt. Many a time would Henry, whosetemper had grown most uncertain, fiercely rate him for intermeddling; butJohn knew and loved him too well to heed; and his tact andunobtrusiveness made Henry rely on him more and more. If the illness had only been confessed, those who watched the Kinganxiously would have had more hope; but he was hotly angered at any hintof his needing care; and though he sometimes relieved oppression bycausing himself to be bled by a servant, he never allowed that anythingailed him; it was always the hot weather, the anxious tidings, the longpageant that wearied him--things that were wont to be like gnats on alion's mane. Those solemn banquets and festivals--lasting from forenoon till eventide, with their endless relays of allegorical subtleties, their long-windedharangues, noisy music, interludes of giants, sylvan men, distresseddamsels, knights-errant on horseback, ships and forests coming in uponwheels, and fulsome compliments that must be answered--had been alwayshis aversion, and were now so heavy an oppression that Bedford would havepersuaded the Queen to curtail them. But to the fair Catherine thisappeared an unkind endeavour of her disagreeable brother-in-law, toprevent her from shining in her native city, and eclipsing the Burgundianpomp; and she opened her soft brown eyes in dignified displeasure, answering that she saw nothing amiss with the King; and she likewisecomplained to her husband of his brother's jealousy of her welcome fromher own people, bringing on him one of Henry's most bitter sentences. Henry would only have had her abate somewhat of the splendour thatgratified her, because he did not think it becoming to outshine herparents; but Catherine scorned the notion. Her old father would knownothing, or would smile in his foolish way to see her so brave; and forher mother, she recked not so long as she had a larded capon before her:nor was it possible to make the young queen understand that this fatuityand feebleness were the very reasons for deferring to them. The ordering of the feast fell to Catherine and her train; and itssplendours on successive days had their full development, greatly to theconstraint and weariness, among others, of Esclairmonde, who was alwaysassigned to Malcolm Stewart, and throughout these long days had to beconstantly repressing him; not that he often durst make her any directcompliment, for he was usually quelled into anxious wistful silence, andmerely eyed her earnestly, paying her every attention in his power. Andsuch a silent tedious meal was sure to be remarked, either with laughingrudeness by Countess Jaqueline, or with severe reproof by the Bishop ofTherouenne, both of whom assured her that she had better lay aside herairs, and resign herself in good part, for there was no escape for her. One day, however, when the feast was at the Hotel de Bourgogne, and therewere some slight differences in the order of the guests, the Duke ofBedford put himself forward as the Lady Esclairmonde's cavalier, so muchto her relief, that her countenance, usually so guarded, relaxed into thebright, sweet smile of cheerfulness that was most natural to her. Isolated as the pairs at the table were, and with music braying in agallery just above, there was plenty of scope for conversation; and onceagain Esclairmonde was talking freely of the matters regarding thedistress in Paris, that Bedford had consulted her upon before he becameso engrossed with his brother's affairs, or she so beset by herpersecutors. Towards the evening, when the feast had still some mortal hours to last, there fell a silence on the Duke; and at length, when the music was atthe loudest, he said 'Lady, I have watched for this moment. You arepersecuted. Look not on me as one of your persecutors; but if no otherrefuge be open to you, here is one who might know better how to esteemyou than that malapert young Scot. ' 'How, Sir?' exclaimed Esclairmonde, amazed at these words from the woman-hating Bedford. 'Make no sudden reply, ' said John. 'I had never thought of you save asone consecrate, till, when I see you like to be hunted down into thehands of yon silly lad, I cannot but thrust between. My brother wouldwillingly consent; and, if I may but win your leave to love you, lady, itwill be with a heart that has yearned to no other woman. ' He spoke low and steadily, looking straight before him, with no visibleemotion, save a little quiver in the last sentence, a slight dilating ofthe delicately cut nostril; and then he was silent, until, havingrecovered the self-restraint that had been failing him, he prevented thewords she was trying to form by saying, 'Not in haste, lady. There istime yet before you to bethink yourself whether you can be free in willand conscience. If so, I will bear you through all. ' How invitingly the words fell on the lonely heart, so long left to fightits own battles! There came for the first time the full sense of whatlife might be, the shielding tenderness, the sure reliance, the pureaffection, such as she saw Henry lavish on the shallow Queen, but whichshe could meet and requite in John. The brutal Boemond, the childishMalcolm, had aroused no feeling in her but dislike or pity, and to them aconvent was infinitely preferable; but Bedford--the religious, manly, brave, unselfish Bedford--opened to her the view of all that couldcontent a high-souled woman's heart, backed, moreover, by the wonder ofhaving been the first to touch such a spirit. It would not have been a _mesalliance_. Her family was one of thegrandest of the Netherlands; the saintly Emperor, Henry of Luxemburg, washer ancestor; and Bedford's proposal was not a condescension such as torouse her sense of dignity. His rank did not strike her as did his loftystainless character; the like of which she had never known to exist inthe world of active life till she saw the brothers of England, who camemore near to the armed saints and holy warriors of Church legend than herfancy had thought mortal man could do, bred as she had been in thesensual, violent, and glittering Burgundy of the fifteenth century. Intruth, as Malcolm had thought the cloister the only refuge from theharshness and barbarism of Scotland, so Esclairmonde had thought pietyand purity to be found nowhere else; and both had found the Court ofHenry V. An infinitely better world than they had supposed possible; but, until the present moment, Esclairmonde had never felt the slightest callto take a permanent place there. Now however the cloister, even if itwere open to her, presented a gloomy, cheerless life of austerity, incomparison with human affection and matronly duty. And most vivid of allat the moment was the desire to awaken the tender sweetness that slept inthose steady gray eyes, to see the grave, wise visage gleam with smilingaffection, and to rest in having one to take thought for her, and finishthis long term of tossing about and self-defence. Was not the patiencewith which he kept his eyes away from her already a proof of hisconsideration and delicate kindness? But deep in Esclairmonde's soul lay the sense that her dedication wassacred, and her power over herself gone. She had always felt a wife'sallegiance due to Him whom she received as her spiritual Spouse; andthough the sense at this moment only brought her disappointment and self-reproach, her will was loyal. The bond was cutting into her very flesh, but she never even thought of breaking it; and all she waited for was thepower of restraining her grateful tears. In this she was assisted by observing that Bedford's attention had beenattracted towards his brother, who was looking wan and weary, scarcelytasting what was set before him; and, after fitfully trying to conversewith Marguerite of Burgundy, at last had taken advantage of an endlessharangue from all the Virtues, and had dropped asleep. The Lady Anne wasseen making a sign to her sister not to disturb him; and Bedfordmurmured, with a sigh, 'There is, for once, a discreet woman. ' Then, asif recalled to a sense of what was passing, he turned on Esclairmonde hisfull earnest look, saying, 'You will teach the Queen how _he_ should becared for. You will help me. ' 'Sir, ' said Esclairmonde, feeling it most difficult not to falter, 'thisis a great grace, but it cannot be. ' 'Cannot!' said Bedford, slowly. 'You have taken thought?' 'Sir, it is not the part of a betrothed spouse to take thought. My vowswere renewed of my own free will and it were sacrilege to try to recallthem for the first real temptation. ' She spoke steadily, but the effort ached through her whole frame, especially when the last word illumined John Plantagenet's face withstrange sweet light, quenched as his lip trembled, his nostril quivered, his eye even moistened, as he said, 'It is enough, lady; I will no morevex one who is vexed enough already; and you will so far trust me as toregard me as your protector, if you should be in need?' 'Indeed I will, ' said Esclairmonde, hardly restraining her tears. 'That is well, ' said Bedford. And he neither looked at her nor spoke toher again, till, as he led her away in the procession from the hall, heheld her hand fast, and murmured: 'There then it rests, sweet ladyunless, having taken counsel with your own heart, you should change yourdecree, and consult some holy priest. If so, make but a sign of thehand, and I am yours; for verily you are the only maiden I could everhave loved. ' She was still in utter confusion, in the chamber where the ladies werecloaking for their return, when her hands were grasped on either side bythe two Burgundian princesses. 'Sweet runaway, we have caught you at last! Here, into Anne's chamber. See you we must! How is it with you? Like you the limping Scot betterthan Boemond?' laughed the Dauphiness, her company dignity laid aside forschool-girl chatter. 'If you cannot hold out, ' said Anne, 'the Scot seems a gentle youth; and, at least, you are quit of Boemond. ' 'Yes, ' said Marguerite, 'his last prank was too strong for the Duke:quartering a dozen men-at-arms on a sulky Cambrai weaver till he paid him2000 crowns. Besides, it would be well to get the Scottish king for anally. Do you know what we two are here for, Clairette? We are both tobe betrothed: one to the handsome captive with the gold locks; the otherto your hawk-nosed neighbour, who seemed to have not a word to say. ' 'But, ' said Esclairmonde, replying to the easiest part of the disclosure, 'the King of Scots is in love with the Demoiselle of Somerset. ' 'What matters that, silly maid?' said Marguerite 'he does not displeaseme; and Anne is welcome to that melancholy duke. ' 'Oh, Lady Anne!' exclaimed Esclairmonde, 'if such be your lot, it wouldbe well indeed. ' 'What, the surly brother, of whom Catherine tells such tales!' continuedMarguerite. 'Credit them not, ' said Esclairmonde. 'He never crosses her but when hewould open her eyes to his brother's failing health. ' 'Yes, ' interrupted Marguerite; 'my lord brother swears that this kingwill not live a year; and if Catherine have no better luck with her childthan poor Michelle, then there will be another good Queen Anne inEngland. ' 'If so, ' said Esclairmonde, looking at her friend with swimming eyes, 'she will have the best of husbands--as good as even she deserves!' Anne held her hand fast, and would have said many tender words onEsclairmonde's own troubles; but the other ladies were arrayed, andEsclairmonde would not for worlds have been left behind in the Hotel deBourgogne. Privacy was not an attainable luxury, and Esclairmonde could not communewith her throbbing heart, or find peace for her aching head, till night. This must be a matter unconfided to any, even Alice Montagu. And whilethe maiden lay smiling in her quiet sleep, after having fondly told herfriend that Sir Richard Nevil had really noticed her new silken kirtle, she knelt on beneath the crucifix, mechanically reciting her prayers, and, as the beads dropped from her fingers, fighting out the fight withher own heart. Her mind was made up; but her sense of the loss, her craving for theworthy affection which lay within her grasp--these dismayed her. Thelife she had sighed for had become a blank; and she passionately detestedthe obligation that held her back from affection, usefulness, joy, andexcellence--not ambition, for the greatest help to her lay in Bedford'sposition, his exalted rank, and nearness to the crown. Indeed, shereally dreaded and loathed worldly pomp so much that the temptation wouldhave been greater had he not been a prince. It was this sense of renunciation that came to her aid. She had at leasta _real_ sacrifice to offer; till now, as she became aware, she had madenone. She folded her hands, and laid her offering to be hallowed by theOne all-sufficient Sacrifice. She offered all those capacities for lovethat had been newly revealed to her; she offered up the bliss, whosegolden dawn she had seen; she tried to tear out the earthliness of herheart and affections by the roots, and lay them on the altar, entreatingthat, come what might, her spirit might never stray from the HeavenlySpouse of her betrothal. Therewith came a sense of His perfect sufficiency--of rest, peace, support, ineffable love, that kept her kneeling in a calm, almostecstatic state, in which common hopes, fears, and affections had meltedaway. CHAPTER XI: THE TWO PROMISES After all, Alice Montagu was married almost privately, and without anypreparation. Tidings came that the Duke of Alencon was besieging Cosne, a city belonging to the Duke of Burgundy, and that instant relief wasneeded. The Duke was urgent with Henry to save the place for him, andset off at once to collect his brilliant chivalry; while Henry, rousingat the trumpet-call, declared that nothing ailed him but pageants, sentorders to all his troops to collect from different quarters, and preparedto take the command in person; while reports daily came in of the greatmuster the Armagnacs were making, as though determined to offer battle. Salisbury was determined not to abide the chances of the battle withoutfirst giving a protector to his little daughter; and therefore, asquietly as if she had been merely going to mass, the Lady Alice waswedded to her Sir Richard Nevil, who treated the affair as the simplestmatter of course, and troubled himself with very slight demonstrations ofaffection. The wedding took place at Senlis, whither the female part ofthe Court had accompanied the King, upon the very day of the parting. Noone was present, except one of Sir Richard's brothers (the whole familynumbered twenty-two), his esquire; and on Alice's side, her father, Esclairmonde, and a few other ladies. At the last moment, however, the King himself came up, leaning onWarwick's arm, looking thin, ill, and flushed, but resolved to do honourto his faithful Salisbury, at whose request he had permitted the baronyof Montagu to be at once transferred to Nevil, who would thenceforth becalled by that title. After the ceremony, King Henry kissed the gentle bride, placed a costlyring upon her finger, and gave his best and warmest wishes to the newly-married pair. Little guessed any there present what the sound of Warwickand Salisbury would be in forty years' time to the babe cradled atWindsor. As the King passed Esclairmonde, he paused, and said, in an undertone, 'Dear lady, deem not that I have forgotten your holy purpose; but youunderstand that there are some who are jealous of any benefit conferredon Paris save from themselves, and whose alliance I may not risk. But ifGod be pleased to grant me this battle also, then, with His goodpleasure, I shall not be forced to have such respect to persons; and whenI return, lady, whether the endowment come from your bounty or no, Godhelping us, you shall begin the holy work of St. Katharine's bedeswomenamong the poor of Paris. ' But while Henry V. , with all his grave sweetness, spoke these words toEsclairmonde de Luxemburg, this was the farewell of Countess Jaqueline ofHainault to Malcolm Stewart: 'Look here, my languishing swain; never mind her scorn, but win yourspurs in the battle that is to be, and then make some excuse to get backagain to us before the two Kings, with all their scruples. Then beshrewme but she shall be yours! If Monseigneur de Therouenne and I cannotmanage one proud girl, I am not Countess of Hainault!' This promise sent him away, planning the enjoyment of conqueringEsclairmonde's long resistance, and teaching her where to find happiness. Should he punish her, by being stern and tyrannical at first? or shouldhis kindness teach her to repent? When he was a knight, he would be in acondition to assert his authority, he thought; and of knighthood both heand Ralf Percy felt almost certain, in that wholesale dubbing of knightsthat was wont to be the preliminary of a battle. To be sure, they hadindulged in a good many unlicensed pleasures at Paris--Ralf from sheerreckless love of sport, Malcolm in his endeavour to forget himself, andto be manly; but they had escaped detection, and they knew plenty ofyoung Englishmen, and many more Burgundians and Gascons, who had plungedfar deeper into mischief, and thought it no disgrace, but rather heldthat there was some special dispensation for the benefit of warriors. Malcolm and Ralf were riding with a party of these young men. King Henryhad consented to make his first day's journey as far as Corbeil in alitter, since only there he was to meet the larger number of his troops, whom Bedford and Warwick were assembling. James was riding close besidehim, with his immediate attendants; and the two youths, not being needed, had joined their comrades with the advanced guard of the escort. It was always a fiction maintained by Henry, that he was marching in afriendly country; plunder was strictly forbidden, and everything was tobe paid for; but unfortunately, the peasantry on his way never realizedthis, and the soldiery often took care they should not. Therefore, whenthe advanced guard came to the village that had been marked out for theirhalt, instead of finding provisions and forage to be purchased, they metwith only bare walls, and a few stray cats; and while storming and ravingbetween hunger and disappointment, a report came from somewhere that theinhabitants had fled, and driven off their cattle to another village somefour miles off, in the woods, on the heights above. Of course, they mustbe taught reason. It was true that the men-at-arms, who were under thecommand of Sir Christopher Kitson and Sir William Trenton, were obligedto abide where they were, much as Kitson growled at being unable toprocure a draught of wine for Trenton, whom he had been nursing for weeksunder intermitting fever, caught at Meaux; but the young gentlemen werewell pleased to show themselves under no Yorkshireman's orders, andgalloped off _en masse_ to procure refreshment for their horses andthemselves, further stimulated by the report that the Armagnacs had lefta sick man behind them there, who might be a valuable prisoner. By and by, a woodland path brought the disorderly party, about forty innumber, including their servants and the ruffians who always followedwhenever plunder was to be scented, out upon a pretty French village ofthe better class, built round a green shaded with chestnuts, under which, sure enough, were hay-carts, cows, sheep, and goats, and their owners, taking refuge in a place thought to be out of the track of the invaders. Here were the malicious defrauders of the hungry warriors. Down uponthem flew the angry foragers. Soon the pretty tranquil scene was ringingwith the oaths of the plundering and the cries of the plundered; thecattle were being driven off, the houses and farm-yards rifled, blood wasflowing, and what could not be carried off was burning. The search forthe Armagnac prisoner had, however, relaxed after the first inquiry, andMalcolm, surprised that this had been forgotten, suddenly bethought himof the distinction he should secure by sending a valuable prize toEsclairmonde's feet. He seized on an old man who had not been able tofly, and stood trembling and panting in a corner, and demanded where thesick man was. The old man pointed to a farm-house, round which clouds ofsmoke were rolling, and Malcolm hurried into it, shouting, 'Dog of anArmagnac, come out! Yield, ere thou be burnt!' No answer; and he dashed forward. In the lower room was a sight thatopened his eyes with horror--no other than the shield of Drummond, withthe three wavy lines; ay, and with it the helmet and suit of armour, whereof he knew each buckle and brace! 'Patie! Patrick! Patrick Drummond!' he wildly shouted, 'are you there?' No answer; and seeing through the smoke a stair, he rushed up. There, inan upper room, on a bed, lay a senseless form, suffocated perhaps by thesmoke, but unmistakably his cousin! He called to him, seized him, shookhim, dragged him out of bed, all in vain; there was no sign of animation. The fire was gaining on the house; Malcolm's own breath was failing, andhis frenzied efforts to carry Patrick's almost giant form to the stairswere quite unavailing. Wild with horror, he flew shouting down-stairs tocall Halbert, whom he had left with his horse, but neither Halbert norhorse was in sight, nor indeed any of the party. Not a man was in sight, except a few hurrying far out of reach, as if something had alarmed them. He wrung his hands in anguish, and was about to make another attempt todrag Patrick down from the already burning house, when suddenly a troopof horse was among the scene of desolation, and at their head King Jameshimself. Malcolm flew to the King, cutting short his angry exclamationwith the cry, 'Help! help! he will burn! Patrick! Patie Drummond!There!' James had scarce gathered the sense of the words, ere, leaping from hishorse, he bounded up the stairs, through the smoke, amid flakes ofburning thatch falling from the roof, groped in the dense clouds of smokefor the senseless weight, and holding the shoulders while Malcolm heldthe feet, they sped down the stair, and rested not till they had laid himunder a chestnut tree, out of reach of the crash of the house, which fellin almost instantly. 'Does he live?' gasped Malcolm. 'He will not, ' said the King, 'if his nation be known here. Keep out ofhis sight! He must hear only French!' Remembering how inexorably Henry hung every Scotch prisoner, Malcolm'sheart sank. This was why no one had sought the prisoner. A Scot was notavailable for ransom! Should he be the murderer of his cousin, Lily'slove? Meantime James hurriedly explained to Kitson that here was the sick manleft by the enemy, summoned Sir Nigel to his side, closed his own visor, and called for water; then hung over the prisoner, anxious to prevent thefirst word from being broad Scotch. In the free air, some long sobsshowed that Patrick was struggling back to life; and James at once said, 'Rendez vous, Messire;' but he neither answered, nor was there meaning inhis eyes. And James perceived that he was bandaged as though for brokenribs, and that his right shoulder was dislocated, and no doubt had been asecond time pulled out when Malcolm had grasped him by the arms. Heswooned again at the first attempt to lift him, and a hay-cart havingbeen left in the flight of the marauders, he was laid in it, and coveredwith the King's cloak, to be conveyed to Corbeil, where James trusted tosecure his life by personal intercession with Henry. He groaned heavilyseveral times, but never opened his eyes or spoke articulately the wholeway; and James and Sir Nigel kept on either side of the cart, ready toaddress him in French the first moment, having told the English that hewas a prisoner of quality, who must be carefully conveyed to King James'stent at Corbeil. Malcolm was not allowed to approach, lest he should berecognized; and he rode along in an agony of shame and suspense, withvery different feelings towards Patrick than those with which he had oflate thought of him, or of his own promises. If Patrick died throughthis plundering raid, how should he ever face Lily? It was nearly night ere they reached Corbeil, where the tents werepitched outside the little town. James committed his captive to theprudent care of old Baird, bidding him send for a French or Burgundiansurgeon, unable to detect the Scottish tongue; and then, taking Malcolmwith him, he crossed the square in the centre of the camp to the royalpavilion, opposite to which his own was pitched. It was a sultry night, and Henry had insisted on sleeping in his tent, declaring himself sick of stone walls; and as they approached his voicecould be heard in brief excited sentences, giving orders, and asking forthe King of Scots. 'Here, Sir, ' said James, stopping in where the curtain was looped up, andshowed King Henry half sitting, half lying, on a couch of cushions anddeer-skins, his eyes full of fire, his thin face flushed with deepcolour; Bedford, March, Warwick, and Salisbury in attendance. 'Ho! you are late!' said Henry. 'Did you come up with the caitiffrobbers?' 'They made off as we rode up. The village was already burnt. ' 'Who were they? I hope you hung them on the spot, as I bade, ' continuedHenry, coughing between his sentences, and almost in spite of himself, putting his hand to his side. 'I was delayed. There was a life to save: a gentleman who lay sick andstifled in a burning house. ' 'And what was it to you, ' cried Henry, angrily, 'if a dozen rebelArmagnacs were fried alive, when I sent you to hinder my men from growingmere thieves? Gentleman, forsooth! One would think it the Dauphinhimself; or mayhap Buchan. Ha! it is a Scot, then!' 'Yes, Sir, ' said James; 'Sir Patrick Drummond, a good knight, hurt andhelpless, for whom I entreat your grace. ' 'You disobeyed me to spare a Scot!' burst forth Henry. 'You, who callyourself a captain of mine, and who know my will! He hangs instantly!' 'Harry, bethink yourself. This is no captive taken in battle. He is asick man, left behind, sorely hurt. ' 'Then wherefore must you be meddling, instead of letting him burn as hedeserved, and heeding what you undertook for me? I _will_ have none ofyour traitor ruffians here. Since you have brought him in, the halterfor him!--Here, Ralf Percy, tell the Provost-marshal--' He was interrupted, for James unbuckled his sword, and tendered it tohim. 'King Harry, ' he said gravely, 'this morning I was your friend andbrother-in-arms; now I am your captive. Hang Patrick Drummond, who aidedme at Meaux in saving my honour and such freedom as I have, and I returnto any prison you please, and never strike blow for you again. ' 'Take back your sword, ' said Henry. 'What folly is this? You knew thatI count not your rebel subjects as prisoners of war. ' 'I did not know that I was saving a defenceless man from the flames to beused like a dog. I never offered my arm to serve a savage tyrant. ' 'Take your sword!' reiterated Henry, his passion giving way beforeJames's steady calmness. 'We will look into it to-morrow: but it was nosoldierly act to take advantage of my weariness, to let my commands bebroken the first day of taking the field, and bring the caitiff here. Wewill leave him for the night, I say. Take up your sword. ' 'Not till I am sure of my liegeman's life, ' said James. 'No threats, Sir. I will make no promise, ' said Henry, haughtily; butthe words died away in a racking cough. And Bedford, laying his hand on James's arm, said, 'He is fevered andweary. Fret him no longer, but take your sword, and get your fellow outof the camp. ' James was too much hurt to make a compromise. 'No, ' he said; 'unlessyour brother freely spares the life of a man thus taken, I must be hisprisoner--but his soldier never!' He left the tent, followed by Malcolm in an agony of despair and self-reproach. Henry's morning decisions were not apt to vary from his evening ones. There was a terrible implacability about him at times, and he had neverceased to visit his brother of Clarence's death upon the Scots, on theplea that they were in arms against their king. Even Bedford obviouslythought that the prisoner would be safest out of his reach; and thiscould hardly be accomplished, since Patrick had been placed in James'stent, in the very centre of the camp, near the King's own. And thoughBedford and March might have connived at his being taken away, yet themass of the soldiery would, if they detected a Scot being smuggled awayinto the town, have been persuaded that King James was actingtreacherously. Besides, the captive himself proved to be so exhausted, that to transporthim any further in his present state would have been almost certainlyfatal. A barber surgeon from Corbeil had been fetched, and was dealingwith the injuries, which had apparently been the effect of a fall somedays previously, probably when on his way to join the French army atCosne; and the first fever of these hurts had no doubt been aggravated bythe adventures of the day. At any rate Patrick lay unconscious, or onlyfrom time to time groaning or murmuring a few words, sometimes French, sometimes Scotch. Malcolm would have fallen on his knees by his side, and striven to win aword or a look, but James forcibly withheld him. 'If you roused him intoloud ravings in our own tongue, all hope of saving him would be gone, ' hesaid. 'Shall we? Oh, can we?' cried Malcolm, catching at the mere word _hope_. 'I only know, ' said the King, 'that unless we do so by Harry's good-will, I will never serve under him again. ' 'And if he persists in his cruelty?' 'Then must some means be found of carrying Drummond into Corbeil. Itwill go hard with me but he shall be saved, Malcolm. But this whole armyis against a Scot; and Harry's eye is everywhere, and his fiercenessunrelenting. Malcolm, this _is_ bondage! May God and St. Andrew aidus!' When the King came to saying that, it was plain he deemed the case pastall other aid. Malcolm's misery was great. The very sight of Patrick had made a mightyrevulsion in his feelings. The almost forgotten associations ofGlenuskie were revived; the forms of his guardian and of Lily came beforehim, as he heard familiar names and phrases in the dear home accent fallfrom the fevered lips. Coldingham rose up before him, and St. Abbs, withLily watching on the rocks for tidings of her knight--her knight, to whomher brother had once promised to resign all his lands and honours, butwho now lay captured by plunderers, among whom that brother made one, andin peril of a shameful death. Oh, far better die in his stead, thanreturn to Lily with tidings such as these! Was this retribution for his broken purpose, and for having fallen away, not merely into secular life, but into sins that stood between him andreligious rites? The King had called St. Andrew to aid! Must a proof ofrepentance and change be given, ere that aid would come? Should he vowhimself again to the cloister, yield up the hope of Esclairmonde, anddevote himself for Patrick's sake? Could he ever be happy with Patrickdead, and Esclairmonde driven and harassed into being his wife? Were itnot better to vow at once, that so his cousin were spared he would returnto his old purposes? Almost had he uttered the vow, when, tugging hard at his heart, came thevision of Esclairmonde's loveliness, and he felt it beyond his strengthto resign her voluntarily; besides, how Madame of Hainault andMonseigneur de Therouenne would deride his uncertainties; and howintolerable it would be to leave Esclairmonde to fall into the hands ofBoemond of Burgundy. Such a renunciation could not be made; he did not even know thatPatrick's safety depended on it; and instead of that, he promised, withgreat fervency of devotion, that if St. Andrew would save PatrickDrummond, and bring about the two marriages, a most splendid monasteryfor educational purposes, such as the King so much wished to found, should be his reward. It should be in honour of St. Andrew, and shouldbe endowed with Esclairmonde's wealth, which would be quite ample enough, both for this and for a noble portion for Lily. Surely St. Andrew mustaccept such a vow, and spare Patrick! So Malcolm tried to pacify ananguish of suspense that would not be pacified. CHAPTER XII: THE LAST PILGRIMAGE The summer morning came; the _reveille_ sounded, Mass was sung in thechapel tent, without which Henry never moved; and Malcolm tried toreassure his sinking heart by there pledging his vow to St. Andrew. The English king was not present; but the troops were drawing up incomplete array, that he might inspect them before the march. And aglorious array they were, of steel-clad men-at-arms on horseback, inbands around their leader's banner, and of ranks of sturdy archers, withtheir long-bows in leathern cases; the orderly multitude, stretching asfar as the eye could reach, glittering in the early sun, and waiting withbold and glad hearts to greet the much-loved king, who had always ledthem to victory. The only unarmed knight was James of Scotland. He stood in the spacebeside the standard of England, in his plain suit of chamois leather, hiscrimson cloak over his shoulder, but with no weapon about him, waitingwith crossed arms for the morning's decision. Close outside the royal tent waited Henry's horse, and those of hisbrother and other immediate attendants; and after a short interval theKing came forth in his brightest armour, with the coronal on his helmet, and the beaver up; and as he mounted, not without considerable aid, enthusiastic shouts of 'Long live King Harry!' broke forth, and cameechoing back and back from troop to troop, gathering fervour as theyrose. The King rode forward towards the standard; but while yet the shouts werepealing from the army, be suddenly caught at his saddle-bow, reeledvisibly, and would have fallen before Bedford could bring his horse tohis side, had not James sprung forward, and laid one arm round him, and ahand on his rein. 'It is nothing, ' said Henry. 'Let me alone. ' Ere the words were finished, he put his hand to his side, dropped hisbridle, and gasped, while a look of intense suffering passed over hisfeatures; and he was passive while his horse was led back to the tent, and he was lifted down and placed on the couch he had just quitted. 'Loose my belt, ' he gasped; then trying to smile, 'Percy has strained itthree holes tighter. ' Alas! though it was indeed thus drawn in, his armour was hanging on himlike the shell of a last year's nut. They released him from it, and helay against the cushions with short painful respiration, and frequentcough. 'You must go on with the men at once, John, ' he said. 'I will but beblooded, and follow in the litter. ' 'Warwick and Salisbury--' began Bedford. 'No, no!' peremptorily gasped Henry. 'It must be you or I, I would, butthis stitch in the side catches me, so that I can neither ride nor speak. Go, instantly. You know what I have ordered. I'll be up with you erethe battle. ' He brooked no resistance. His impatience, and with it the oppression andpain, only grew by remonstrance; and Bedford was forced to obey thecommand to go himself, and leave no one he could help behind him. 'You will stay, at least, ' said John, in his distress, turning to theScottish king. 'I must, ' said James. 'You hold not your wrath?' said Bedford. 'It will madden me to leave himto any save you in this stress. Some are dull; some he will not heed. ' 'I will tend him like yourself, John, ' said the Scot, taking his hand. 'Do what he may, Harry is Harry still. Hasten to your command, John; hewill be calmer when you are gone. ' Bedford groaned. It was hard to leave his brother at a moment when hemust be more than himself--become general of an army, with a battleimminent; but he was under dire necessity, and forced himself to listento and gather the import of the few terse orders and directions thatHenry, breathless as he was, rendered clear and trenchant as ever. The King almost drove his brother away at last, while a barber was takinga copious stream of blood from him; and as the army had already been setin motion, a great stillness soon prevailed, no one being left save asmall escort, and part of the King's own immediate household, for Henryhad himself ordered away Montagu, his chamberlain, Percy, and almost allon whom his eyes fell. The bleeding relieved him; he breathed lesstightly, but became deadly pale, and sank into a doze of extremeexhaustion. 'Who is here?' he said, awakening. 'Some drink! What you, Jamie! Youthat were on fire to see a stricken field!' 'Not so much as to see you better at ease, ' said James. 'I am better, ' said Henry. 'I could move now; and I must. This tentwill stifle me by noon. ' 'You will not go forward?' 'No; I'll go back. A sick man is best with his wife. And I can battleit no further, nor grudge the glory of the day to John. He deserves it. ' The irascible sharpness had passed from his voice and manner, and givenplace to a certain languid cheerfulness, as arrangements were made forhis return to Vincennes. There proved to be a large and commodious barge, in which the transitcould be effected on the river, with less of discomfort than in thespringless horse litter by which he had travelled the day before; andthis was at once prepared. Malcolm had meanwhile remained, as in duty bound, in attendance on hisking. James had found time to enjoin him to stay, being, to say thetruth, unwilling to trust one so inexperienced and fragile in the _melee_without himself; nor indeed would this have been a becoming moment forhim to put himself forward to win his spurs in the English cause. Nothing had passed about Patrick Drummond, nor the high words of lastnight. Henry seemed to have forgotten them, between his bodily sufferingand the anxiety of being forced to relinquish the command just before abattle; and James would have felt it ungenerous to harass him at such amoment, when absolutely committed to his charge. For the present, therewas no fear of the prisoner being summarily executed by any lawfulauthority, since the King had promised to take cognizance of the case;and the chief danger was from his chance discovery by some lawless man-at-arms, who would think himself doing good service by killing a concealedScot under any circumstances. Drummond himself, after his delirious night, had sunk into a heavy sleep;and the King thought the best hope for him would be to remain under thecare of Sir Nigel Baird for the present, until he could obtain favour forhim from Henry, and could send back orders from Vincennes. He would notleave Malcolm to share the care of him, declaring that the canny SirNigel would have quite enough to do in averting suspicion without him;and, besides, he needed Malcolm himself, in the scarcity of attendantswho had any tenderness or dexterity of hand to wait upon the sufferingKing. Henry had rallied enough to walk down to the river, leaning upon James;and he smiled thanks when he was assisted by Trenton and Kitson to liealong on cushions. 'So, my Yorkshire knights, ' he said, ''tis you thathave had to stop from the battle to watch a sick man home!' 'Ay, Sir, ' said Sir Christopher; 'I did it with the better will, thatTrenton here has not been his own man since the fever; and 'twere no fairplay in the matter your Grace wets of, did I go into battle whole andsound, and he sick and sorry. ' Henry's look of amusement brightened him into his old self, as he said, 'Honester guards could I scarce have, good friend. ' At that moment, after a nudge or two from Trenton, Kitson and he camesuddenly down on their knees, with an impetus that must have tried theboards of the bottom of the barge. 'Sir, ' said Kitson, always thespokesman, 'we have a grace to ask of you. ' 'Say on, ' said Henry. 'Any boon, save the letting you cut one another'sthroats. ' 'No, Sir. Will Trenton's scarce my match now, more's the pity; and, moreover, we've lost the good will to it we once had. No, Sir; 'twaslicense to go a pilgrimage. ' 'On pilgrimage!' 'Ay, Sir; to yon shrine at Breuil--St. Fiacre's, as they call him. Someof our rogues pillaged his shrine, as you know, Sir; and those that knowthese parts best, say he was a Scottish hermit, and bears malice like aScot, saint though he be; and that your sickness, my lord, is all alongof that. So we two have vowed to go barefoot there for your healing, myliege, if so be we have your license. ' 'And welcome, with my best thanks, good friends, ' said Henry, exertinghimself to lean forward and give his hand to their kiss. Then, as theyfell back into their places, with a few inarticulate blessings andassurances that they only wished they could go to Rome, or to Jerusalem, if it would restore their king, Henry said, smiling, as he looked atJames, 'Scotsmen here, there, and everywhere--in Heaven as well as earth!What was it last night about a Scot that moved thine ire, Jamie? Didstnot tender me thy sword? By my faith, thou hast it not! What was therub?' James now told the story in its fulness. How he had met Sir PatrickDrummond at Glenuskie; how, afterwards, the knight had stood by him inthe encounter at Meaux; and how it had been impossible to leave himsenseless to the flames; and how he had trusted that a capture made thus, accidentally, of a helpless man, would not fall under Henry's strictrules against accepting Scottish prisoners. 'Hm!' said Henry; 'it must be as you will; only I trust to you not to lethim loose on us, either here or on the Border. Take back your sword, Jamie. If I spoke over hotly last night--a man hardly knows what he sayswhen he has a goad in the side--you forgive it, Jamie. ' And as the Scotsking, with the dew in his eyes, wrung his hand, he added anxiously, 'Yoursword! What, not here! Here's mine. Which is it?' Then, as Jameshanded it to him: 'Ay, I would fain you wore it! 'Tis the sword of myknighthood, when poor King Richard dubbed me in Ireland; and many a bravescheme came with it!' The soft movement of the barge upon the water had a soothing influence;and he was certainly in a less suffering state, though silent and dreamy, as he lay half raised on cushions under an awning, James anxiouslywatching over him, and Malcolm with a few other attendants near at hand;stout bargemen propelling the craft, and the guard keeping along the bankof the river. His thoughts were perhaps with the battle, for presently he looked up, and murmured the verse: '"I had a dream, a weary dream, Ayont the Isle of Skye; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I. " That stave keeps ringing in my brain; nor can I tell where or when I haveheard it. ' ''Tis from the Scottish ballad that sings of the fight of Otterburn, 'said James; 'I brought it with me from Scotland. ' 'And got little thanks for your pains, ' said Henry, smiling. 'But, methinks, since no Percy is in the way, I would hear it again; there wastrue knighthood in the Douglas that died there. ' James's harp was never far off; and again his mellow voice went throughthat gallant and plaintive strain, though in a far more subdued mannerthan the first time he had sung it; and Henry, weakened and softened, actually dropped a brave man's tear at the 'bracken bush upon the lilylea, ' and the hero who lay there. 'That I should weep for a Douglas!' he said, half laughing; 'but thehearts of all honest men lie near together, on whatever side they drawtheir swords. God have mercy on whosoever may fall to-morrow! I trow, Jamie, thou couldst not sing that rough rhyme of Agincourt. I wasbashful and ungracious enough to loathe the very sound of it when I camehome in my pride of youth; but I would lief hear it once more. Or, stay--Yorkshiremen always have voices;' and raising his tone, heunspeakably gratified Trenton and Kitson by the request; and theirvoices, deep and powerful, and not uncultivated, poured forth the Lay ofAgincourt to the waves of the French river, and to its mighty victor: 'Our King went forth to Normandye. ' Long and lengthily chanted was the triumphant song, with the Latinchoruses, which were echoed back by the escort on the bank; while Henrylay, listening and musing; and Malcolm had time for many a thought andimpulse. Patrick's life was granted; although it had been promised too late tosend the intelligence back to the tent at Corbeil. So far, the purposeof his vow to St. Andrew had been accomplished; but with the probabilitythat he should soon again be associated with Patrick, came the sense ofthe failure in purpose and in promise. Patrick would not reproach him, he well knew--nay, would rejoice in the change; but even this certaintygalled him, and made him dread his cousin's presence as likely to bringhim a sense of shame. What would Patrick think of his letting a lady beabsolutely compelled to marry him? Might he not say it was the part ofWalter Stewart over again? Indeed, Malcolm remembered how carefully KingJames was prevented from hearing the means by which the Countess intendedto make the lady his own; and a sensation came over him, that it wasprofanation to call on St. Andrew to bless what was to be brought aboutby such means. Why was it that, as his eyes fell on the face of KingHenry, the whole world and all his projects acquired so different acolouring? and a sentence he had once heard Esclairmonde quote would cometo him constantly: 'My son, think not to buy off God. It is thyself thatHe requires, not thy gifts. ' But the long lay of victory was over; and King Henry had roused himselfto thank the singers, then sighed, and said, 'How long ago that was!' 'Six years, ' said James. 'The whole space from the hope and pride of youth to the care and toil ofeld, ' said Henry. 'Your Scots made an old man of me the day they slewThomas. ' 'Yet that has been your sole mishap, ' said James. 'Yea, truly! But thenceforth I have learnt that the road to Jerusalem isnot so straight and plain as I deemed it when I stood victorious atAgincourt. The Church one again--the Holy Sepulchre redeemed! It seemedthen before my eyes, and that I was the man called to do it. ' 'So it may be yet, ' said James. 'Sickness alters everything, and raisesmountains before us. ' 'It may be so, ' said Henry; 'and yet--Jerusalem! Jerusalem! It was myfather's cry; it was King Edward's cry; it was St. Louis' cry; and yetthey never got there. ' 'St. Louis was far on his way, ' said James. 'Ay! he never turned aside!' said Henry, sighing, and moving restlesslyand wearily with something of returning fever. "'O bona patria, lumina sobria te speculantur--" Boy, are you there?' as, in turning, his eye fell on Malcolm. 'Takewarning: the straight road is the best. You see, I have never come toJerusalem. ' Then again he murmured: "'Hic breve vivitur, hic breve plangitur, hic breve fletur; Non breve vivere, non breve plangere, retribuetur. " And James, seeing that nothing lulled him like song, offered to sing thatmysteriously beautiful rhythm of Bernard of Morlaix. 'Ay, prithee do so, ' said Henry. 'There's a rest there, when theAgincourt lay rings hollow. Well, there is a Jerusalem where ourshortcomings are made up; only the straight way--the straight way. ' Malcolm took his part with James in singing the rhythm, which he hadlearnt long ago at Coldingham, and which thus in every note brought backthe vanished aspirations and self-dedication to 'the straight way. ' For such, an original purpose of self-devotion must ever be--not ofcourse exclusively to the monastic life; but whoever lowers his aims ofserving God under any worldly inducement, is deviating from the straightway: and, thought Malcolm, if King Harry feels Agincourt an empty wordbeside the song of Sion, must not all I have sought for be a very vanity? Sometimes dozing, but sometimes restless, and with the pain of breathingconstantly increasing on him, Henry wore through the greater part of theday, upon the river, until it was necessary to land, and be taken throughthe forest in his litter. He was now obliged to be lifted from thebarge; and his weariness rendered the conveyance very distressing, savethat his patient smile never faded; and still he said, 'All will be wellwhen I come to my Kate!' Alas! when the gates were reached, James hardly knew how to tell him thatthe Queen had gone that morning to Paris with her mother. Yet still hewas cheerful. 'If the physicians deal hard with me, ' he said, 'it willbe well that she should not be here till the worst is over. ' The physicians were there. A messenger had gone direct from Corbeil tosummon them; and Henry delivered himself up into their hands, to fightout the battle with disease, as he had set himself to fight out manyanother battle in his time. A sharp conflict it was--between a keen and aggravated disease, apparently pleurisy coming upon pulmonary affection of long standing, anda strong and resolute nature, unquenched by suffering, and backed by theviolent remedies of a half-instructed period. Those who watched him, andstrove to fulfil the directions of the physicians, hardly marked thelapse of hours; even though more than one day and night had passed ere inthe early twilight of a long summer's morn he sank into a sleep, his facestill distressed, but less acutely, and his breath heavy and labouring, though without the severe pain. The watchers felt that here might be the turning point, and stood or sataround, not daring to change their postures, or utter the slightest word. Suddenly, James, who stood nearest, leaning against the wall, with hiseyes fixed on the face of the sleeper, was aware of a hand on hisshoulder, and looking round, saw in the now full light Bedford's face--sopale, haggard, and replete with anxiety, so dusty and travel-stained, that Henry, awakening at that moment, exclaimed, 'Ha, John!' And as hisbrother was slow to reply--'Has the day gone against thee? How was it?Never fear to speak, brother; thou art safe; and I know thou hast donevaliantly. Valour is never lost, whether in defeat or success. Speak, John. Take it not so much to heart. ' 'There has been no battle, Harry, ' said Bedford, gathering voice withdifficulty. 'The Dauphin would not abide our coming, but broke up hiscamp. ' 'Beshrew thee, man!' said Henry; 'but I thought thou wast just off aflight!' 'Dost think one can ride fast only for a flight?' said Bedford. 'Ah, would that it had been the loss of ten battles rather than this!' And he fell on his knees, grasping Henry's hand, and hiding his faceagainst the bed, with the same instinct of turning to him for comfortwith which the young motherless children of Henry of Bolingbroke, whenturned adrift among the rude Beaufort progeny of John of Gaunt, had clungto their eldest brother, and found tenderness in his love and protectionin his fearlessness; so that few royal brethren ever loved better thanHenry and John of Lancaster. 'It was well and kindly done, John, ' said Henry; 'and thou hast come at agood time; for, thanks be to God, the pain hath left me; and if it werenot for this burthen of heaviness and weariness, I should be more at easethan I have been for many weeks. ' But as he spoke, there was that both in his face and voice that chilledwith a dread certainty the hearts of those who hung over him. 'Is my wife come? I could see her now, ' he wistfully asked. Alas! no. Sir Lewis Robsart, the knight attached to her service, faltered, with a certain shame and difficulty, that the Queen would comewhen her orisons at Notre Dame were performed. It was his last disappointment; but still he bore it cheerily. 'Best, ' he said. 'My fair one was not made for sights like this; andwere she here'--his lip trembled--'I might bear me less as a Christianman should. My sweet Catherine! Take care of her, John; she will be themost desolate being in the world. ' John promised with all his heart; though pity for cold-hearted Catherinewas not the predominant feeling there. 'I would I had seen my child's face, and blessed him, ' continued Henry. 'Poor boy! I would have him Warwick's charge. ' 'Warwick is waiting admission, ' said Bedford. 'He and Salisbury andExeter rode with me. ' The King's face lighted up with joy as he heard this. 'It is good for aman to have his friends about him, ' he said; and as they entered he heldout his hand to them and thanked them. Then took place the well-known scene, when, looking back on his career, he pronounced it to have been his endeavour to serve God and his people, and declared himself ready to face death fearlessly, since such was thewill of his Maker: grieving only for the infancy of his son, but placinghis hope and comfort in his brother John, and commending the babe to thefatherly charge of Warwick. 'You cannot love him for his own sake asyet; but if you think you owe me aught, repay it to him. ' And as hethought over the fate of other infant kings, he spoke of some havinghated the father and loved the child, others who had loved the father andhated the child. To Humfrey of Gloucester he sent stringent warnings against giving way tohis hot and fiery nature, offending Burgundy, or rushing into a doubtfulwedlock with Jaqueline of Hainault; speaking of him with an elderbrother's fatherly affection, but turning ever to John of Bedford withfull trust and reliance, as one like-minded, and able to carry out allhis intentions. For the French prisoners, they might not be released, 'lest more fire be kindled in one day than can be quenched in three. ' 'And for you, Jamie, ' he said, affectionately holding out his hand, 'myfriend, my brother-in-arms, I must say the same as ever. Pardon me, Jamie; but I have not kept you out of malice, such as man must needsrenounce on his death-bed. I trust to John, and to the rest, for givingyou freedom at such time as you can safely return to be such a kingindeed as we have ever hoped to be. Do you pardon me, James, for this, as for any harshness or rudeness you may have suffered from me?' James, with full heart, murmured out his ardent love, his sense that nocaptive had ever been so generously treated as he. 'And you, my young lord, ' said Henry, looking towards Malcolm, whoselight touch and tender hands had made him a welcome attendant in theillness, 'I have many a kind service to thank you for. And I believe Imightily angered you once; but, boy, remember--ay, and you too, RalfPercy--that he is your friend who turns you back from things sore toremember in a case like mine!' After these, and other calm collected farewells, Henry required to knowfrom his physicians how long his time might yet be. There was hesitationin answering, plainly as they saw that mortification had set in. 'What, ' he said, 'do ye think I have faced death so many times to fear itnow?' Then came the reply given by the weeping, kneeling physician: 'Sir, thinkof your soul, for, without a miracle, you cannot live two hours. ' The King beckoned his confessor, and his friends retired, to return againto take their part in the last rites, the Viaticum and Unction. Henry was collected, and alive to all that was passing, responding duly, and evidently entering deeply into the devotions that were to aid hisspirit in that awful passage; his face gravely set, but firm and fearlessas ever. The ceremonial ended, he was still sensible, though with littlepower of voice or motion left; but the tone, though low, was steady asever, when he asked for the Penitential Psalms. Still they doubtedwhether he were following them, for his eyes closed, and his lips ceasedto move, until, as they chanted the revival note of David's mournfulpenance--'O be favourable and gracious unto Sion; build Thou the walls ofJerusalem;'--at that much-loved word, the light of the blue eyes oncemore beamed out, and he spoke again. 'Jerusalem! On the faith of adying king, it was my earnest purpose to have composed matters here intopeace and union, and so to have delivered Jerusalem. But the will of Godbe done, since He saw me unworthy. ' Then his eyes closed again; he slept, or seemed to sleep; and then astrange quivering came over the face, the lips moved again, and the wordsbroke from them, 'Thou liest, foul spirit! thou liest!' but, as thoughthe parting soul had gained the victory in that conflict, peace came downon the wasted features; and with the very words of his Redeemer Himself, 'Into Thy hands I commend my spirit, ' he did indeed fall asleep; themighty soul passed from the worn-out frame. CHAPTER XIII: THE RING AND THE EMPTY THRONE No one knows how great a tree has been till it has fallen; nor how largea space a mighty man has occupied till he is removed. King Henry V. Left his friends and foes alike almost dizzy, as in placeof his grand figure they found a blank; instead of the hand whose forcethey had constantly felt, mere emptiness. Malcolm of Glenuskie, who had been asserting constantly that King Henrywas no master of his, and had no rights over him, had nevertheless, forthe last year or more, been among those to whom the King's will was themoving spring, fixing the disposal of almost every hour, and makingeverything dependent thereon. When the death-hush was broken by the 'Depart, O Christian soul, ' andBedford, with a face white and set like a statue, stood up from hisknees, and crossed and kissed the still white brow, it was to Malcolm asif the whole universe had become as nothing. To him there remained onlythe great God, the heavenly Jerusalem into which the King had entered, and himself far off from the straight way, wandering from his promise andhis purpose into what seemed to him a mere hollow painted scene, such ascame and went in the midst of a banquet. Or, again, it was the grislyDance of Death that was the only reality; Death had clutched themightiest in the ring. Whom would he clutch next? He stood motionless, as one in a dream, or rather as if not knowing whichwas reality, and which phantom; gazing, gazing on at the bed where theKing lay, round which the ecclesiastics were busying themselves, unperceiving that James, Bedford, and the nobles had quitted theapartment, till Percy first spoke to him in a whisper, then almost shookhim, and led him out of the room. 'I am sent for you, ' he said, in amuch shaken voice; 'your king says you can be of use. ' Then tighteninghis grasp with the force of intense grief, 'Oh, what a day! what a day!My father! my father! I never knew mine own father! But he has been allto Harry and to me! Oh, woe worth the day!' And dropping into a window-seat, he covered his face with his hands, and gave way to his grief:pointing, however, to the council-room, where Malcolm found Bedfordwriting at the table, King James, and a few others, engaged in the samemanner. A few words from James informed him (or would have done so if he couldhave understood) that the Duke of Bedford, on whom at that terriblemoment the weight of two kingdoms and of the war had descended, could notpause to rest, or to grieve, till letters and orders had been sent to thecouncil in England, and to every garrison, every ally in France, to guardagainst any sudden panic, or faltering in friendship to England and herinfant heir. Warwick and Salisbury were already riding post haste totake charge of the army; Robsart was gone to the Queen, Exeter to theDuke of Burgundy; and as the clergy were all engaged with the tendance ofthe royal corpse, there was scarcely any one to lessen the Duke's toil. James, knowing Malcolm's pen to be ready, had sent for him to assist incopying the brief scrolls, addressed to each captain of a fortress ortown, announcing the father's death, and commanding him to do his duty tothe son--King Harry VI. Each was then to be signed by the Duke, anddespatched by men-at-arms, who waited for the purpose. Like men stunned, the half-dozen who sat at the council-table worked on, never daring to glance at the empty chair at the upper end. The onlywords that passed were occasional inquiries of, and orders from, Bedford;and these he spoke with a strange alertness and metallic ring in hisvoice, as though the words were uttered by mechanism; yet in themselvesthey were as clear and judicious as possible, as if coming from a mindwound up exclusively to the one necessary object; and the face--thoughflushed at first, and gradually growing paler, with knitted brows andcompressed lips--betrayed no sign of emotion. Hours passed: he wrote, he ordered, he signed, he sealed; he mentionedname after name, of place and officer, never moving or looking up. AndJames, who knew from Salisbury that he had neither slept nor eaten sincesixty miles off he had met a worse report of his brother, watched himanxiously till, when evening began to fall, he murmured, 'There is thecaptain of--of--at--but--'--the pen slipped from his fingers, and hesaid, 'I can no more!' The overtaxed powers, strained so long--mind, memory, and all--weregiving way under the mere force of excessive fatigue. He rose from hisseat, but stumbled, like one blind, as James upheld him, and led him awayto the nearest bed-chamber, where, almost while the attendants divestedhim of the heavy boots and cuirass he had never paused all these hours toremove, he dropped into a sleep of sheer exhaustion. James, who was likewise wearied out with watching, turned towards his ownquarters; but, in so doing, he could not but turn aside to the chapel, where before the altar had been laid all that was left of King Henry. There he lay, his hands clasped over a crucifix, clad in the same richgreen and crimson robes in which he had ridden to meet his Queen atVincennes but three short months before; the golden circlet from hishelmet was on his head, but it could not give additional majesty to thestill and severe sweetness of his grand and pure countenance, so youthfulin the lofty power that high aspirations had imprinted on it, yet sointensely calm in its marble rest, more than ever with the look of theavenging unpitying angel. To James, it was chiefly the face of the manwhom he had best loved and admired, in spite of their strange connection;but to Malcolm, who had as usual followed him closely, it was verily alook from the invisible world--a look of awful warning and reproof, almost as if the pale set lips were unclosing to demand of him where hewas in the valley of shadows, through which the way lay to Jerusalem. IfHenry had turned back, and warned him at the gate of the heavenly Sion, surely such would have been his countenance; and Malcolm, when, likeJames, he had sprinkled the holy water on the white brow, and crossedhimself while the low chant of Psalms from kneeling priests went uparound him--clasped his two hands close together, and breathed forth thewords, 'Oh, I have wandered far! O great King, I will never leave thestraight way again! I will cast aside all worldly aims! O God, and theSaints, help me not to lose my way again!' He would have tarried on still, in the fascination of that wonderfulunearthly countenance, and in the inertness of faculties stunned byfatigue and excitement, but James summoned him by a touch, and he againfollowed him. 'O Sir!' he began, when they had turned away, 'I repent me of my fallingaway to the world! I give all up. Let me back to my vows of old. ' 'We will talk of that another time, ' said James, gravely. 'Neither younor I, Malcolm, can think reasonably under such a blow as this; and Iforbid you rashly to bind yourself. ' 'Sir, Sir!' cried Malcolm, petulantly. 'You took me from the straightway. You shall not hinder my return!' 'I hinder no true purpose, ' said King James. 'I only hinder another rashand hasty pledge, to be felt as a fetter, or left broken on yourconscience. Silence now. When men are sad and spent they cannot speakas befits them, and had best hold their peace. ' These words were spoken on the way up the stair that led to theapartments of the King of Scots. On opening the door of the larger room, the first thing they saw was the tall figure of a distinguished-lookingknight, who, as they entered, flung himself at King James's feet, fervently exclaiming, 'O my liege! accept my homage! Never was vassal sobound to his lord by thankfulness for his life, and for far more than hislife!' 'Sir Patrick Drummond, I am glad to see you better at ease, ' said James. 'Nay, suffer me, ' he added, giving his hand to raise the knight, butfinding it grasped and kissed with passionate devotion, almostoverpowering the only half-recovered knight, so that James was forced touse strength to support him, and would at once have lifted him up, butthe warm-hearted Patrick resisted, almost sobbing out--'Nay, Sir! king ofmy heart indeed! let me first thank you. I knew not how much more I owedyou than the poor life you saved--my father's rescue, and that of allthat was most dear. ' 'Speak of such things seated, my good friend, ' said James, trying toraise him; but Drummond still did not second his efforts. 'I have not given my parole of honour as the captive whose life is againdue to you. ' 'You must give that to the Duke of Bedford, Sir Patrick, ' said James. 'Iknow not if I am to be put into ward myself. In any case you are safe, by the good King's grace, so you pledge yourself to draw no sword againstEngland in Scotland or France till ransom be accepted for you. ' 'Alack!' said Patrick, 'I have neither sword nor ransom. I would I knewwhat was to be done with the life you have given me, my lord. ' 'I will find a use for it, never fear, ' said James, sadly, but kindly. 'Be my knight for the present, till better days come for us both. ' 'With my whole heart!' said Patrick, fervently. 'Yours am I for ever, myliege. ' 'Then my first command is that you should rise, and rest, ' said James, assisting the knight to regain his feet, and placing him in the onlychair in the room. 'You must become a whole man as soon as may be. ' For Patrick's arm was in a sling, and evidently still painful anduseless, and he sank back, breathless and unresisting, like one who hadby no means regained perfect health, while his handsome features lookedworn and pale. 'I fear me, ' said James, as the two cousins silentlyshook hands, 'that you have moved over soon. --You surely had my message, Bairdsbrae?' 'Oh yes, my lord, ' replied Baird; 'but the lad was the harder to hold;and after the fever was gone, we deemed he could well brook the journeyby water. 'Twas time I was here to guide ye too, my lord; you and thecallant baith look sair forfaughten. ' 'We have had a sad time of it, Nigel, ' said James, with trembling lip. 'And if Brewster tells me right, ye've not tasted food the whole day?'said Nigel, laying an authoritative hand on his royal pupil. 'Nay, sitye down; here come the varlets with the meal I bade them have ready. ' James passively yielded, courteously signing to the others to share thefood that was spread on a table; and with the same scarcely consciousgrace, making inquiries, which elicited that Patrick Drummond's hurts hadbeen caused by his horse falling and rolling over with him, whilst withSir John Swinton and other Scottish knights he was reconnoitring the lineof the English march. He was too much injured to be taken back to thefar distant camp, and had accordingly been intrusted to the Frenchfarmer, with no attendant but a young French horse-boy, since he was toopoor to keep a squire. He knew nothing more, for fever had run high; andhe had not even been sensible of his desertion by his French hosts on theapproach of the English, far less of the fire, and of his rescue by theKing and Malcolm; but for this he seemed inclined to compensate to theutmost, by the intense eagerness of devotion with which he regardedJames, who sat meanwhile crushed down by the weight of his own grief. 'I can eat no more, Baird, ' said he, swallowing down a draught of wine, and pushing aside his trencher. 'Your license, gentlemen. I must bealone. Take care of the lads, Nigel. Malcolm is spent too. His deftservice was welcome to--to my dearest brother. ' And though he hastily shut himself into his own inner chamber, it was nottill they had seen that his grief was becoming uncontrollable. Patrick could not but murmur, 'Dearest brother!' 'Ay, like brothers they loved!' said Baird, gravely. 'A strange brotherhood, ' began Drummond. But Malcolm cried, with much agitation, 'Not a word, Patie! You know notwhat you say. Take heed of profaning the name of one who is gone to theSion above. ' 'You turned English, our wee Malcolm!' exclaimed Drummond, in amaze. 'There is no English, French, or Scot where he is gone!' cried Malcolm. 'No Babel! O Patie, I have been far fallen! I have done you in heart agrievous wrong! but if I have turned back in time, it is his doing thatlies there. ' 'His! what, Harry of Lancaster's?' demanded the bewildered Patrick. 'Whathad he to do with you?' 'He has been my only true friend here!' cried Malcolm. 'Oh, if my handbe free from actual spoil and bloodshed, it was his doing! Oh, that hecould hear me bless him for the chastisement I took so bitterly!' 'Chastisement!' demanded Patrick. 'The English King dared chastise_you_! of Scots blood royal! 'Tis well he is dead!' 'The laddie's well-nigh beside himself!' said Baird. 'But he speakstrue. This king whom Heaven assolizie, kept a tight hand over theyoungsters; and falling on Lord Malcolm and some other callants makingfree with a house at Meaux, dealt some blows, of which my young lordfound it hard to stomach his share; though I am glad to see he is come toa better mind. Ay, 'tis pity of this King Harry! Brave and leal was he;never spake an untrue word; never turned eye for fear, nor foot forweariness, nor hand for toil, nor nose for ill savour. A man, look you, to be trusted; never failing his word for good or ill! Right little lovehas there been between him and me; but I could weep like my own lad inthere, to think I shall never see that knightly presence more, nor hearthose frank gladsome voices of the boys, as they used to shout up anddown Windsor Forest. ' 'You too, Sir Nigel! and with a king like ours!' 'Ay, Sir Patrick! and if he be such a king as Scotland never had sinceSt. David, and maybe not then, I'm free to own as much of it is due toKing Harry as to his own noble self. --Did ye say they had streekit him inthe chapel, Lord Malcolm? I'd fain look on the bonnie face of him; I'llne'er look on his like again. ' No sooner had old Bairdsbrae gone, than Malcolm flung himself down beforehis cousin, crying, 'Oh, Patrick, you will hear me! I cannot rest tillyou know how changed I have been. ' 'Changed!' said Patrick; 'ay, and for the better! Why, Malcolm, I neverdurst hope to see you so sturdy and so heartsome. My father would havebeen blithe to see you such a gallant young squire. Even the halt isgone!' 'Nearly, ' said Malcolm. 'But I would fain be puny and puling, to havethe clear heart that once I had. Oh, hear me! hear me! and pardon me, Patie!' And Malcolm, in his agitation, poured forth the whole story of his havingshifted from his old cherished purpose of devoting himself to the serviceof Heaven, and leaving lands and vassals to the stronger hands of Patrickand Lilias; how, having thus given himself to the world, he had falleninto temptation; how he had let himself be led to persecute with his suita noble lady, vowed like himself; how he had almost agreed to marry herby force: and how he had been running into the ordinary dissipations ofthe camp, abstaining from confession, avoiding mass; disobeying orders, plunging into scenes of plunder, till he had almost been the death ofPatrick, whom he had already so cruelly wronged. So felt the boy. Fresh from that death-bed, the evils his conscience hadprotested against from the first appeared to him frightfully heinous, andhis anguish of self-reproach was such, that Patrick listened in thegreatest anxiety lest he should hear of some deadly stain on his youngkinsman's scutcheon; but when the tale was told, and he had demanded 'Isthat all?' and found that no further overt act was alleged againstMalcolm, he breathed a long sigh, and muttered, 'You daft laddie! you hadfairly startled me! So this is the coil, is it? Who ever told you toput on a cowl, I should like to know? Why, 'twas what my poor fatherever declared against. I take your lands! By my troth! 'twould beenough to make me break faith with your sister, if I _could_!' 'The vow was in my heart, ' faltered Malcolm. 'In a fule's head!' said Patrick. 'What right have babes to be talkingof vows? 'Twould be the best tidings I've heard for many a long day, that you were wedded to a lass with a good tocher, and fit to guide yoursilly pate. What's that? Her vows! If they are no better than yours, the sooner they are forgot the better. If she had another love, 'twouldbe another matter, but with a bishop on your side, you've naught tofear. ' Malcolm turned away, sick at heart. To him his present position hadbecome absolute terror. His own words had worked him up to an alarmingsense of having lapsed from high aims to mere selfishness; of havingprofaned vows, consented to violence, and fallen away from grace; and hewas in an almost feverish passion to utter something that wouldirrevocably bind him to his former intentions; but here were the King andPatrick both conspiring to silence him, and hold him back to his fallenand perilous state. Nay, Patrick even derided his penitence. Patrickwas an honourable knight, a religious man, as times went, but he had beenbrought up in a much rougher and more unscrupulous school than Malcolm, and had been hardened by years of service as a soldier of fortune. TheArmagnac camp was not like that of England. Warriors of such piety andstrictness as Henry and Bedford had never come within his ken; and thatany man, professing to be a soldier, should hesitate at the license ofwar, was incomprehensible to him. The discipline of Henry's army hadbeen scoffed at in the French camp, and every infraction of it hailed asa token of hypocrisy; and to the stout Scot Malcolm's grief for therapine at Meaux, which after all he had not committed, seemed a simpleabsurdity. Even his own danger, on the second occasion, did not make himalter his opinion; it was all the fortune of war. And he was not surethat he had not best have been stifled at once, since his hands were tiedfrom warfare. And as for Lily--how was he to win her now? Then, asMalcolm opened his mouth, Patrick sharply charged him to hold his tongueas to that folly, unless he wanted to drive him to make a vow on hisside, that he would turn Knight of Rhodes, and never wed. Malcolm, wearied out with excitement, came at last to weeping that no onewould hear or understand him; but the scene was ended by Bairdsbrae, who, returning, brought a leech with him, who at once took the command ofPatrick, and ordered him to his bed. Malcolm could not rest. He was feverish with the shock of grief and awe, and absorbed in the thought which had mastered him, and which was muchdwelt on in the middle ages:--the monastic path, going towards heavenstraight as a sunbeam; the secular, twining its way through a tortuousdifficult course--the 'broad way, ' tending downward to the abyss. To histerrified apprehension, he had abandoned the direct and narrow path forthe fatal road, and there might at any moment be captured, and whirledaway by the grisly phantom Death, who had just snatched the mightiest inhis inevitable clutch; and with something of the timidity of his nature, he was in absolute terror, until he should be able to set himself back onthe shining road from which he had swerved, and be rid of the load oftransgression which seemed ready to sink him into the gulf. Those few and perfunctory confessions to a courtly priest who knewnothing about him, and was sure not to be hard on a king's cousin, nowseemed to add to his guilt: and, wandering down-stairs towards thechapel, he met a train of ecclesiastics slowly leaving it, having justbeen relieved by a bevy of monks from a neighbouring convent, who took upthe chants where they had left them. Looking up at them, he recognized Dr. Bennet's bent head, and throwinghimself before him on his knee, he gasped, 'O father, father! hear me!Take me back! Give me hope!' 'What means this, my young lord?' said Dr. Bennet, pausing, while hisbrethren passed on. 'Are you sick?' he added, kindly, seeing thewhiteness of Malcolm's face, and his startled eye. 'Oh, no, no! only sick at heart at my own madness, and the doom on it! OSir, hear me! Take my vow again! give me absolution once more to a trueshrift. Oh, if you will hear me, it shall be honest this time! Only putme in the way again. ' The chaplain was sorely sad and weary. He it was whose ministrations hadchiefly comforted the dying King. To him it had been the loss of adeeply-loved son and pupil, as well as of almost unbounded hopes for thewelfare of the Church; and he had had likewise, in the freshness of hissorrow, to take the lead in the ecclesiastical ceremonies that ensued, sothat both in body and mind he was well-nigh worn out, and longed forpeace in which to face his own private sorrow; but the wild words andanguished looks of the young Scot showed him that his case was one forimmediate hearing, and he drew the lad into the confessional, authoritatively calmed his agitation, and prepared to hear the outpouringof the boy's self-reproach. He heard it all--sifting facts from fancies, and learning the earlypurpose, the terror at the cruel world, the longing for peace andshelter; the desire to smooth his sister's way, which had led him todevote himself in heart to the cloister, though never permitted openly topledge himself. Then the discovery that the world was less thorny thanhe had expected; the allurement of royal favour and greatness; the charmof amusement, and activity in recovered health; the cowardly dread ofscorn, leading him not merely into the secular life, but into the gradualdropping of piety and devotion; the actual share he had taken inforbidden diversions; his attempts at plunder; his ill-will to KingHenry; and, above all, his persecution of Esclairmonde, which he nowregarded as sacrilegious; and he even told how he lay under a halfengagement to Countess Jaqueline to return alone to the Court, and bearhis part in the forcible marriage she projected. He told all, with no extenuation; nay, rather with such outbursts ofopprobrium on himself, that Dr. Bennet could hardly understand of whatpositive evils he had been guilty; and he ended by entreating that thealmoner would at once hear his vow to become a Benedictine monk, ere-- But Dr. Bennet would not listen. He silenced the boy by saying he had nomore right to hear it than Malcolm as yet to make it. Nay, that innerdedication, for which Malcolm yearned as a sacred bond to his own will, the priest forbade. It was no moment to make such a promise in hispresent mood, when he did not know himself. If broken, he would only beadding sin to sin; nor was Malcolm, with all his errors fresh upon him, in any state to dedicate himself worthily. The errors--which in RalfPercy, or in most other youths, might have seemed slight--were heavystains on one who, like Malcolm, had erred, not thoughtlessly, but with aconscience of them all, in wilful abandonment of his higher principles. On these the chaplain mostly dwelt; on these he tried to direct Malcolm'srepentance; and, finding that the youth was in perpetual extremes ofremorse, and that his abject submission was a sort of fresh form ofwilfulness, almost passion at being forbidden to bind himself by the vow, he told him that the true token of repentance was steadiness andconstancy; and that therefore his absolution must be deferred until hehad thus shown that his penitence was true and sincere--by perseverance, firstly, in the devotions that the chaplain appointed for him, and, secondly, in meeting whatever temptations might be in store for him. Nay, the cruel chaplain absolutely forbade the white, excited, eager boy tospend half the night in chapel over the first division of thesepenitential psalms and prayers, but on his obedience sent him at once tohis bed. Malcolm could have torn his hair. Unabsolved! Still under the weight ofsin; still unpledged; still on dangerous ground; still left to a secularlife--and that without Esclairmonde! Why had he not gone to a FrenchBenedictine, who would have caught at his vow, and crowned his penitencewith some magnificent satisfying asceticism? Yet something in his heart, something in the father's own authority, madehim submit; and in a tumult of feeling, more wretched even than beforehis confession, he threw himself on his bed, expecting to charge thetossings of a miserable night on Dr. Bennet, and to creep down barefootto the chapel in the early morning to begin his _Misereres_. Instead of which, his first wakening was in broad daylight, by King Jamesstanding over him. 'Malcolm, ' he said, 'I have answered for you that youare discreet and trusty. A message of weight is to be placed in yourhands. Come with me to the Duke of Bedford. ' Malcolm could only dress himself, and obediently follow to the chamber, where sat the Duke, his whole countenance looking as if the light of hislife had gone out, but still steadfastly set to bear the heavy burdenthat had been placed on his shoulders. He called Malcolm to him, and showed him a ring, asking whether he knewit. 'The King's signet--King Harry's, ' said Malcolm. He was then reminded how, in the winter, Henry had lost the ring, andafter having caused another to be made at Paris, had found it in thefinger of his gauntlet. Very few knew of the existence of thisduplicate. Bedford himself was not aware of it till it had beenmentioned by James and Lord Fitzhugh the chamberlain; and then search wasmade for it, without effect, so that it evidently had been left with theQueen. These private signets were of the utmost importance, far more sothan even the autograph; for, though signatures were just acquiringindividuality enough to become the best authentication, yet up to thisvery reign the seal was the only valid affirmation. Such signets werealways destroyed on a prince's death, and it was of the utmost importancethat the duplicate should not be left in Queen Catherine's hands--aboveall, while she was with her mother and her party, who were quite capableof affixing it to forgeries. Bedford, James, and Fitzhugh were all required at Vincennes; the twolatter at the lying-in-state in the chapel. Most of the other trustynobles had repaired to the army; and, indeed, Bedford, aware of theterrible jealousies that were sure to break out in the headless realm, did not choose to place a charge that might hereafter prove invidious inthe hands of any Englishman, or to extend the secret any further thancould be helped; since who could tell what suspicion might not be thuscast on any paper sealed by Henry? In his perplexity, James had suggested young Malcolm, who had assisted inthe search for the lost ring, and been witness to its discovery; and whomhe could easily send as bearer of his condolences to the widowed Queen;who had indeed the _entree_ of the palace, but had no political standing, was neither French nor English, and had shown himself discreet enoughwith other secrets to deserve confidence. Bedford caught at the proposal. And Malcolm now received orders to takehorse, with a sufficient escort, and hasten at once to Paris, where heshould try if possible to obtain the ring from the Queen herself; but ifhe could not speak to her in private, he might apply to Sir LewisRobsart. No other person was to be informed of the real object of themission, and he was to get back to Vincennes as soon as possible. Neither prince could understand the scared, distressed looks with whichMalcolm listened to commands showing so much confidence in a youth of hisyears. They encouraged him by assurances that Sir Lewis Robsart, who hada curious kind of authority, half fatherly, half nurselike, over theQueen, would manage all for him. And King James, provoked by hisreluctance, began, as they left Bedford's chamber, to chide him forungraciousness in the time of distress, and insensibility to the honourconferred on him. 'Nay, nay, ' disclaimed Malcolm, almost ready to weep, 'but I have a wholeworld of penance!' 'Penance! Plague on the boy's perverseness! What penance is so good asobedience?' said James, much displeased. 'Sir, Sir, ' panted Malcolm, ''tis not only that. Could any one but besent in my stead? My returning alone is what Madame of Hainaultbade--for--for some scheme on--' His voice was choked, and his face was burning. 'Is the lad gone daft?' cried James, in great anger. 'If Madame ofHainault were so lost to decorum as to hatch such schemes at such amoment, I trow you are neither puppet nor fool in her hands for her to dowhat she will with. I'll have no more fooling!' Malcolm could only obey. In the brief space while the horses were preparing, and he had to equipand take food, he sped in search of Dr. Bennet, hoping, he knew not what, from his interference, or trusting, at any rate, to explain his ownsudden absence. But, looking into the chapel, he recognized the chaplain as one of theleading priests in one of the lengthiest of masses, which was justcommencing. It was impossible to wait for the conclusion. He could butkneel down, find himself too much hurried and confused to recollect anyprayer, then dash back again to don his riding-gear, before King Jamesshould miss him, and be angered again. 'Unabsolved--unvowed!' he thought. 'Sent off thither against my will. Whatever may fall out, it is no fault of mine!' CHAPTER XIV: THE TROTH FLIGHT Trembling and awed, the ladies waited at Paris. It was well known howthe King's illness must end. No one, save the Queen, professed toentertain any hope of his amendment; but Catherine appeared to be toolethargic to allow herself to be roused to any understanding of hisdanger; and as to the personal womanly tendance of wife to sufferinghusband, she seemed to have no notion of it. Her mother had never beensupposed to take the slightest care of King Charles; and Catherine, afterher example, regarded the care either of husband or child as no morerequired of a royal lady than of a queen bee. The little Lady Montagu, as Alice was now to be called, who had beenscheming that her Richard should be wounded just enough to learn to callher his good little nurse-tender, was dreadfully scandalized, as indeedwere wives of more experience, when they found all their endeavours tomake their mistress understand how ill the King really was, and how muchhe wished for her, fall upon uncomprehending ears, and at last weredesired by her mother Isabeau not to torment the poor Queen, or theywould make her ill. 'Make her ill! I wish I could!' muttered Lady Warwick, as she left thepresence-chamber; 'but it is like my little Nan telling her apple-stockbaby that all her kin were burnt alive in one castle. She heeds asmuch!' But when at late evening Sir Lewis Robsart rode up to the hotel, and ahush went along with him, for all knew that he would never have left hisKing alive, Catherine's composure gave way. She had not imaginationenough for apprehension of what was out of sight; but when she knew thatshe had lost her king, to whom she had owed the brief splendour of anotherwise dreary and neglected life, she fell into a passion of cries andtears, even at the mere sight of Sir Lewis, and continued to bewail herking, her lord, her husband, her light, her love, with the violence of anutterly unexpected bereavement. But while her shrieks and sobs were rending the air, a hoarse voicegasped out, 'What say you? My son Henri dead!' and white and ghastly, the gray hair hanging wildly from the temples, the eyes roaming with thewistful gaze of the half insane, poor King Charles stood among them, demanding, 'Tell me I am sick again! Tell me it is but one of mydelusions! So brave, so strong, so lively, so good to the poor old man!My son Henri cannot die! That is for the old, the sick!' And when Sir Lewis with gentle words had made him understand the truth, he covered his face with his hands, and staggered away, led by hisattendant knight, still murmuring in a dazed way, '_Mon fils Henri, monbon fils Henri_--most loving of all my children!' In truth, neither of his own sons had been thus mourned; nor had anyperson shown the poor crazed monarch the uniform deferentialconsideration he had received from Henry. He crept back to his ownchamber, and for many days hardly spoke, save to moan for his _bon filsHenri_, scarcely tasting food, and pining away day by day. Those who hadwatched the likeness between the heroes of Monmouth and of Macedon, sawthe resemblance carried out; for as the aged Persian queen perished awayfrom grief for the courteous and gentle Alexander, so now the king of theconquered realm was actually wasting to death with mourning for his frankand kindly _bon fils Henri_. As part of royal etiquette, Catherine betook herself to her bed, in achamber hung with black, the light of day excluded, and ranks of waxtapers shedding a lugubrious light upon rows of gentlemen and ladies whohad to stand there on duty, watching her as the mourners watched theKing, though her lying-in-state was not always as silent; for though, there was much time spent in slumber, Catherine sometimes would indulgein a good deal of subdued prattle with her mother, or her moreconfidential attendants. But at other times, chiefly when first awaking, or else when anything had crossed her will, she would fall into agoniesof passionate grief--weeping, shrieking, and rending her hair with almosta frenzy of misery, as she called herself utterly desolate, and screamedaloud for her king to return to her. She was quite past the management of her English ladies on theseoccasions; and her mother, declaring that she was becoming crazed likeher father, declined having anything to do with her. Even Sir LewisRobsart she used to spurn aside; and nothing ever seemed effectual, butfor the Demoiselle de Luxemburg, with her full sweet voice, and force ofwill in all the tenderness of strength, caressingly to hold her still, talk to her almost as to an infant, and sing away her violence with somelong low ditty--sometimes a mere Flemish lullaby, sometimes a Churchhymn. As Lady Warwick said, when the ladies were all wearied out withthe endeavour to control their Queen's waywardness and violence, and itsighed away like a departing tempest before Esclairmonde, 'It was asgreat a charity as ever ministering as a St. Katherine's bedeswoman couldbe. ' To the young Lady Montagu, the blow was astounding. It was the firstrealization that a great man could die, a great support be taken away;and, child-like, she moved about, bewildered and stunned, in the greathousehold on which the dark cloud had descended--clinging to Esclairmondeas if to protect her from she knew not what; anything dreadful mighthappen, with the King dead, and her father and husband away. Alas! poor Esclairmonde! She was in much more real danger herself, ascame to the bride's mind presently, when, in the midst of herlamentations, she exclaimed, 'And, ah, Clairette! there ends his goodlypromise about the sisterhood of good works at Paris. ' Esclairmonde responded with a gesture of sorrow, and the murmur of the'_In principibus non confide_' that is so often the echo ofdisappointment. 'And what will you do?' continued Alice, watching her anxiously, as herface, turning very pale, was nevertheless uplifted towards heaven. 'Strive to trust more in God, less in princes, ' she breathed forth, clasping her hands, and compressing her lips. 'Nay, but does it grieve you so intensely?' asked Alice. 'Mayhap--' 'Alas! sweet one! I would that the fall of this device seemed like to bethe worst effect to me of your good king's death. Pray for me, Alice, for now no earthly power stands between me and my kinsmen's will. ' Alice cried aloud, 'Nay, nay, lady, we are English still. There are myfather; my lord, the Duke of Bedford; they will not suffer any wrong tobe done. ' 'Hush, Alice. None of them hath any power to aid me. Even good KingHenry had no legal power to protect me; only he was so great, so strongin word or deed, that no man durst do before him what he declared a shameand a sin. Now it will be expedient more than ever that nothing be doneby the English to risk offending the Duke of Burgundy. None will darewithhold me; none ought to dare, for they act not for themselves, but fortheir infant charge; and my countess is weary of me. There is nothing toprevent my uncles from taking me away with them; or--' 'Nothing!' cried Alice. 'It cannot be! Oh, that my father were here!' 'He could do nothing for me. ' 'A convent!' 'No convent here could keep me against the Bishop of Therouenne. ' Alice wrung her hands. 'Oh, it cannot--shall not be!' 'No, Alice, I do not believe it will be. I have that confidence in Himto whom I have given myself, that I do not believe He will permit me tobe snatched from Him, so long as my will does not consent. ' Esclairmondefaltered a moment, as she remembered her wavering, crossed her hands onher breast, and ejaculated, 'May He deal mercifully with me! Yet it maybe at an exceeding cost--at that of all my cherished schemes, of all thatwas pride and self-seeking. Alice, look not so terrified. Nothing canbe done immediately, or with violence, in this first mourning for theKing; and I trust to make use of the time to disguise me, and escape toEngland, where I may keep my vow as anchoress, or as lay sister. Let mekeep that, and my self-exalting schemes shall be all put by!' The question whether this should be to England, or to the southern partsof France held by the Armagnacs, remained for decision, as opportunityshould direct: Alice constantly urging her own scheme of carrying herfriend with her as her tire-woman, if, as seemed likely, she were senthome; and Esclairmonde refusing to consent to anything that might bringthe bride into troubles with her father and husband; and the debatesbeing only interrupted when the Lady Montagu was required to take herturn among the weary ladies-in-waiting around Catherine's state bed. Whenever she was not required to control, console, or persuade the Queen, Esclairmonde spent most of her time in a chamber apart from the chatterof Jaqueline's little court, where she was weaving, in the delicate point-lace work she had learnt in her Flemish convent, an exquisite robe, suchas were worn by priests at Mass. She seldom worked, save for the poor;but she longed to do some honour to the one man who would have promotedher nearly vanished scheme, and this work she trusted to offer for avestment to be used at his burial Mass. Many a cherished plan wasresigned, many an act of self-negation uttered, as she bent over thedainty web; many an entreaty breathed, that her moment's wandering offancy might not be reckoned against her, but that she might be aided tokeep the promise of her infancy, and devote herself undivided to thedirect service of God and of His poor, be it in ever so humble a station. Here she sat alone, when steps approached, the door opened, and of allpeople he stood before her whom she least wished to see, the young Lordof Glenuskie. Amazed as she was, she betrayed no confusion, and merely rose, sayingquietly, 'This is an error. I will show you Madame's apartment. ' But Malcolm, who had begun by looking far more confused than she, criedearnestly, 'One moment, lady. I came not willingly; the Countess sentfor me to her. But since I am here--listen while Heaven gives mestrength to say it--I will trouble you never again. I am come to abetter mind. Oh, forgive me!' 'What are you here then for, Sir?' said Esclairmonde, with the samedefensive dignity. 'My king sent me, against my will, on a mission to the Queen, ' pantedMalcolm. 'I am forced to wait here; or, lady, I should have been thisday doing penance for my pursuit of you. Verily I am a penitent. MayhapHeaven will forgive me, if you will. ' 'If I understand you aright, it is well, ' said Esclairmonde, stillgravely and doubtfully. 'It is so indeed, ' protested Malcolm, with a terrible wrench to hisheart, yet a sensation of freeing his conscience. 'Fear me no longernow. After that which I saw at Vincennes, I know what it is to be on thestraight path, and--oh! what it is to have fallen from it. How could Idream of dragging you down to be with one so unworthy, becoming moreworthless each day? Lady, if I never see you more, pardon me, pray forme, as a saint for a poor outcast on earth!' 'Hush, ' said Esclairmonde; 'I am no saint--only a maiden pledged. But, Sir, I thank you fervently. You have lightened my heart of one of myfears. ' Malcolm could not but be cheered by being for once spoken to by her in sofriendly a tone; and he added, gravely and resolutely: 'My suit, then, Iyield up, lady--yield for ever. Am I permitted once to kiss that fairand holy hand, as I resign my presumptuous hopes thereof?' 'Mayhap it were wiser left undone, ' said Esclairmonde. 'My mind misgivesme that this meeting is planned to bring us into trouble. Farewell, mylord. ' As she had apprehended, the door was flung back, and Countess Jaquelinerushed in, clasping her hands in an affectation of merry surprise, as shecried, 'Here they are! See, Monseigneur! No keeping doves apart!' 'Madame, ' said Esclairmonde, turning on her with cold dignity, 'I havebeen thanking Monsieur de Glenuskie for having resigned the suit that Ialways declared to be in vain. ' 'You misunderstood, Clairette, ' said Jaqueline. 'No gentleman ever sospoke! No, no; my young lord has kept his promise to me, and I will notfail him. ' 'Madame, ' faltered Malcolm, 'I came by command of the King of Scots. ' 'So much the better, ' cried Jaqueline. 'So he can play into our hands, for all his grandeur! It will lose him his wager, though! Here isbride--there is priest--nay, bishop!' pointing to him of Therouenne, whohad accompanied her, but hitherto had stood silent. 'Madame, ' said Malcolm, 'the time and state of the household forbid. ' '_Ma foi_! What is that to us? King Henry is neither our brother norour father; and Catherine will soon laugh at it as a good joke. ' 'Nay, ' said the Bishop, with more propriety, 'it is the contract andtroth-plight alone that could take place at present. That secure, thefull solemnities will await a fitting time; but it is necessary that thetroth be exchanged at once. ' 'Monseigneur, ' said Esclairmonde, 'mine is in other keeping. ' 'And, Monseigneur, ' added Malcolm, 'I have just told the lady that Irepent of having fallen from my vocation, and persecuted her. ' 'How, Sir!' said the Bishop, turning on him; 'do you thus lightly treat alady of the house of Luxemburg? Beware! There are those who know how tovisit an insult on a malapert lad, who meddles with the honour of thefamily. ' 'Be not threatened, Lord Malcolm, ' said Esclairmonde, with a gleam in hereye. And Malcolm was Stewart enough to answer with spirit: 'My lord, I willmeet them if needed. This lady is so affianced, that it is sacrilege toaspire to her. ' 'Ah!' said the Bishop, in an audible aside to the giggling Countess:'this comes of her having thrown herself at the youth's head. Now hewill no more of her. ' Crimson with wrath, and also with a wild sense of hope that theobligation had become absolute, Malcolm made a vehement incoherentexclamation; but Esclairmonde retained her composure. 'Monseigneur and Madame both know better, ' she said. 'This is butanother menace. ' 'Peace, minion, ' said the Bishop of Therouenne, 'and listen to me. Ifthis young gentleman, after professing himself willing to wed you, nowdraws back, so much the worse for him. But if you terrify him out of itwith your humours, then will my brother St. Pol and the Duke of Burgundysoon be here, with no King of England to meddle; and by St. Adrian, SirBoemond will be daunted by no airs, like Monsieur there. A bride shallyou be, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg, ere the week is out, if not toMonsieur de Glenuskie, to the Chevalier Boemond de Bourgogne. ' 'Look not at me, ' said Jaqueline. 'I am weary of your contumacy. All Ishall do is to watch you well. I've suspected for some days that youwere concocting mischief with the little Montagu; but you'll not escapeagain, as when I was fool enough to help you. ' The two stood a few paces apart, where they had been discovered;Esclairmonde's eyes were closed, her hands clasped, as if in silentprayer for aid. 'Girl--your choice!' said the Bishop, peremptorily. 'Wedlock on the spotto this gentleman, or to Sir Boemond a week hence. ' Esclairmonde was very white. 'My will shall not consent to a present breach of vow to save a futureone, ' she said, in a scarce audible voice. A sudden thought darted into Malcolm's mind. With colour flooding hisface to his very temples, he stepped nearer to her, and said, in atremulous under-tone, 'Lady, trust me. ' The Bishop withheld Jaqueline almost by force, so soon as he saw that thepair were whispering together, and that there was something of relaxationin Esclairmonde's face as she looked up at him in silent interrogation. He spoke low, but solemnly and imploringly. 'Trust me with your plight, lady, and I will restore it when you are free. ' Hardly able to speak, she however murmured, 'You will indeed do this?' 'So help me Heaven!' he said, and his eyes grew large and bright; he heldhis head with the majesty of his race. 'Heaven has sent you, ' said Esclairmonde, with a long sigh, and holdingout her hand to him, as though therewith she conferred a high-souledwoman's full trust. And Malcolm took it with a strange pang of pain and exultation at theheart. The trust was won, but the hope of earthly joy was gone for ever. The Countess broke out with a shout of triumph: 'There, there! they havecome to reason at last. There's an end of her folly. ' Malcolm felt himself a man, and Esclairmonde's protector, all at once, ashe stood forth, still holding her hand. 'Monseigneur, ' he said, 'this lady consents to intrust her troth to me, and be affianced to me'--his chest heaved, but he still spoke firmly--'oncondition that no word be spoken of the matter, nor any completion of therite take place until the mourning for King Henry be at an end;' and, ata sort of shiver from Esclairmonde, he added: 'Not for a year, by whichtime I shall be of full age. ' 'A strange bridegroom!' said Jaqueline; 'but maybe you do well to get heron what terms you can. Do you agree, Monseigneur?' In truth, Monseigneur may have been relieved that the trial of strengthbetween him and his ward had thus terminated. He was only anxious tohave the matter concluded. The agreement, binding Malcolm to accept a stated number of crowns ininstalments, as the value of Esclairmonde's lands, under the guarantee ofthe Duke of Burgundy and King James of Scotland, had all been long agosigned, sealed, and secured; and there was nothing to prevent the_fiancailles_, or espousals, from taking place at once. It was a much more real ceremony than a mere betrothal, being, in fact, in the eye of the civil law a marriage, though the full blessing and thesacramental words of union were deferred for the completion of the rite. It was the first part of the Marriage Service, binding the pair soindissolubly to one another, that neither could enter into wedlock withany one else as long as the other lived--except, of course, by Papaldispensation; and in cases of stolen weddings, it was all that was deemedneedful. All therefore that remained to be done was, that the Bishop summoned hischaplain to serve as a witness and as scribe; and then the two youngpeople, in their deep mourning dresses, standing before the Bishop, vowedto belong to none other than to one another, and the betrothal ringsbeing produced, were placed on their fingers, and their hands wereclasped. Malcolm's was steady, as he felt Esclairmonde's rest in hisuntrembling, but with the quietness of one who trusted all in all whereshe trusted at all. 'Poor children! they have all to learn, ' hilariously shouted theCountess. 'They have forgotten the kiss!' 'Will you suffer it, my sister?' said Malcolm, with burning cheeks. 'My brother and my guardian!' responded Esclairmonde, raising the whitebrow to his lips. At that moment back went the door, and in flew Alice Montagu, cryingaloud, 'Clairette! the Queen--oh, Madame, your pardon! but I am sent forEsclairmonde. The Queen is in worse fits than ever. Sir Lewis can't getthe ring from her. They think she will rave like her father presently!Come!' Esclairmonde could only hurry away at this; while Alice, grasping herhand, continued: 'Oh, have they been persecuting you? I dreaded it when I saw yon littlewretch; but--oh, Esclairmonde, what is this?' in an utterly changedvoice. 'He holds my faith in trust. He will restore it, ' said Esclairmonde, hurriedly. But Lady Montagu spoke not another word; and, indeed, they were hard uponthe English queen's rooms, whence they already heard hysterical screamsof passion. Jaqueline had immediately set forth in the same direction out ofcuriosity; and Malcolm in much anxiety, since the mission that he hadbeen cautioned to guard so jealously seemed in danger of being knowneverywhere. He had himself been allowed to stand by the Queen's bedside, and rehearse James's message; but when he had further hinted of his beingsent by Bedford to bring the ring, the Queen, perhaps at the mention ofthe brother-in-law, pouted, knew nothing of any ring, and supposed M. LeDuc meant to strip her, a poor desolate widow, of all her jewels. Then Malcolm had spoken in private with Sir Lewis Robsart, who knew thering was among her jewels, and promised to get it for him as soon as waspossible; and it was while waiting for this that Malcolm had beensummoned to the Countess of Hainault's apartments. But ere Sir Lewis could get the ear of the Queen, as he now told Malcolm, her mother had been with her. Catherine was dull, jealous, unwilling topart with anything, but always easily coaxed over. Her mother Isabeauhad, on the other hand, a good deal of low cunning and selfishness, andunderstood how valuable an instrument might be a duplicate seal of adeceased monarch. Therefore she instigated her daughter to deny that shepossessed it, and worked her up into a state of impracticability, inwhich Sir Lewis Robsart was unable to deal with her, and only produced sowild a tempest of passion as perfectly to appal both him and her ladies. That the Duke of Bedford had sent for a ring, which she would not giveup, was known over the whole palace; the only matter still not perhapsknown was, what was the value of that individual ring. Robsart, however, promised to exonerate Malcolm from having shown anyindiscretion; he charged it all on himself for having left his Queen foran instant to Isabeau. Meanwhile, Malcolm and he, with other nobles and ladies, waited, waitedin the outer chamber, listening to the fearful storm of shrieks andcries, till they began to spend themselves and die away; and then theyheard Esclairmonde's low voice singing her lullaby, and every onebreathed freer, as though relieved, and murmurs of conversation roseagain. Malcolm moved across to greet the Lady Montagu; and though shelooked at him with all the disdain her little gentle face couldaccomplish, he had somehow a spring and strength in him that could notnow be brow-beaten. He bent over her, and said, 'Lady, I see you know all. It is but atrust. ' 'If you so treat it, Sir, you will do well, ' responded the young matron, with as much stern gravity as she could assume; the fact being that shelonged to break down and cry heartily, that Esclairmonde should so farhave failed, and become like other people. Long, long they waited--Malcolm with a strange dreamy feeling at hisheart, neither triumph nor disappointment, but something between both, and peace above all. Dinner was served in the hall; the company returnedto the outer apartment, yet still all was silent within; till at last, late in the afternoon, there came a black figure forth from under theblack hangings, and Esclairmonde, turning to Lady Warwick, said, 'TheQueen is awake, and desires her ladies' presence. ' And then comingtowards Malcolm, who was standing near Sir Lewis Robsart, she placed inhis hand the signet-ring. Both, while the attendants of the Queen filed back into her chamber, eagerly demanded how the ring had been obtained. 'Poor lady!' said Esclairmonde, 'she was too much spent to withholdanything. She was weak and exhausted with cries and tears; and when shehad slept, she was as meek as a lamb; and there was no more ado but tobid her remember that the blessed King her lord would have bidden her letthe ring be broken up at once, lest it should be used so as to harm herson. ' That Esclairmonde had prevailed by that gentle force of character whichno one could easily resist, could not, however, be doubted for a moment;and a fresh thrill of amazement, and almost of joy, came over Malcolm atthe sense that he had become the protector of such a being, and that in asort she belonged to him, and was in his power, having trusted herself tohim. Robsart advised, and Esclairmonde concurred in the counsel, that LordGlenuskie should set forth for Vincennes immediately, before there shouldbe time for any more cabals, or for Queen Isabeau to have made herdaughter repent of having delivered up the signet-ring. Malcolm therefore at once took leave of his affianced, venturing to kissher hand as he looked wistfully in her face, and said, 'Dear lady, howshall I thank you for this trust?' Esclairmonde gave her sweet grave smile, as she said, 'To God's keeping Icommend you, Sir. ' She would not even bid him be true to his trust; itwould have seemed to her to insult him in whom her confidence was placed, and she only added: 'I shall ever bless you for having saved me. Farewell! Now am I bound for ever to pray for you and your sister. ' And it would be impossible to tell how the sense of Esclairmonde's trust, and of the resolute self-denial it would require of him, elevatedMalcolm's whole tone, and braced his mind. The taking away of hisoriginal high purpose had rendered him as aimless and pleasure-loving asany ordinary lad; but the situation in which he now stood--guarding thissaintly being for her chosen destiny, at the expense of all possibleearthly projects for his own happiness or ambition--was such as to bringout that higher side of his nature that had well-nigh collapsed. As hestood alone in the ante-room, waiting until his horse and escort shouldbe ready for his return, a flood of happiness seemed to gush over him. Esclairmonde was no more his own, indeed, than was King Henry's signet;but the trust was very precious, and gave him at least the power ofthinking of her as joined by a closer link than even his sister Lilias. And towards her his conscience was again clear, for this very betrothalput marriage out of the question for him, and was a real seal of hisdedication. He only felt as if his heart ought not to be so light andpeaceful, while his penance was still unsaid, his absolution not yetpronounced. CHAPTER XV: THE TRUST James of Scotland and John of Bedford sat together in the twilight of along and weary day, spent by the one in standing like a statue at thehead of his deceased friend as a part of the pageant of thelying-in-state in the chapel, whither multitudes had crowded throughoutthe day to see the 'mighty victor, mighty lord, lie low on his funeralcouch;' the nobles gazing with a certain silent and bitter satisfactionat him who had not only broken the pride of their country, but had withhis iron hand repressed their own private exactions, while the poor andthe peasants openly bewailed him as the father and the friend who hadstood between them and their harsh feudal lords. By the other, the hourshad passed in the press of toil and perplexity that had fallen on him asthe yet unaccredited representative of English power in France, and inwriting letters to those persons at home from whom he must derive hisauthority. The hour of rest and relaxation was welcome to both, thoughthey chiefly spent it each leaning back in his chair in silence. 'Your messenger is not come back, ' said Bedford, presently, rousinghimself. 'It may have been no easy task, ' replied James, not however withoutuneasiness. 'I would, ' said Bedford, presently, 'that I had writ the matter straightto Robsart. The lad is weak, and may be tampered with. ' 'He knows that I have pledged my honour for him, ' said James. Bedford's thin lips moved at the corners. 'Nay, ' said James, not angrily, 'the youth hath in some measuredisappointed me. The evil in him shot forth faster than the good underthis camp life; but methinks there is in him a certain rare quality ofsoul that I loved him for at the first, and though it hath lain asleepall this time, yet what he hath now seen seemed to me about to work thechange in him. ' 'It may be so, ' said Bedford; 'and yet I would I had not consented to hisgoing where that woman of Hainault might work on him to fret the LadyEsclairmonde. ' James started somewhat as he remembered overruling this objection ofMalcolm's own making. 'She cannot have the insolence, ' he said. At that moment a hasty step approached; the door was opened with scantceremony, and Ralf Percy, covered from head to foot with blood, hurriedin breathless and panting. 'My lord Duke, your license! Here is Malcolm Stewart set upon in theforest by robbers and stabbed!' 'Slain? Dead?' cried both princes, springing up in horror. 'Alive still--in the chapel--asking for you, my lord, ' said Percy. 'Hebade us lay him there at the King's feet; and as it was the readiest wayto a priest, we did his bidding. ' 'My poor Malcolm!' sighed James; and he and Bedford hastened to obey thesummons. There was time on the way for Ralf Percy to give them the particulars. 'We had gone forth--Trenton, Kitson, altogether some half-dozen of us--fora mouthful of air in the forest after our guard all day in the chapel, when about a mile from the Castle we heard a scuffle, and clashing ofarms. So breaking through the thicket, we saw a score of fellows onhorseback fully armed, and in the midst poor Glenuskie dragged to theground and struggling hard with two of them. We drew our swords, hallooed, and leapt out; and the knaves never stayed to see how many ofus there were, but made off like the dastards they were, but not till onehad dealt poor Stewart this parting stroke. He hath been bleeding like asheep all the way home, and hath scarce spoken but a thanksgiving for ourhaving come in time, as he called it, and to ask for Dr. Bennet and theDuke. ' The words brought them to the door of the chapel, where for a time thechants around King Henry had paused in the agitation of the new arrival. As the black and white crowd of priests and monks opened and made way forthe King and Duke, they saw, in the full light of the wax tapers, laid ona pile of cushions not far from King Henry's feet, the figure of Malcolm, his riding-gown open at the breast, and kerchiefs dyed and soaked withblood upon it; the black of his garments and hair enhancing the ghastlywhiteness of his face, and yet an air of peace and joy in the eyes and inthe folded hands, as Dr. Bennet and another priest stood over him, administering those abbreviated rites of farewell blessing which theChurch sanctioned in cases of sudden and violent death. The princes bothstood aside, and presently Malcolm faintly said, 'Thank God! I trustedto His mercy to pardon! Now all would be well could I but see the Duke. ' 'I am here, dear youth, ' said Bedford, kneeling on one side of him; whileJames, coming to the other side, spoke to him affectionately; but to himMalcolm only replied by a fond clasp of the hand, giving his soleattention to Bedford, to whom he held the signet. 'It has cost too much, ' said Bedford, sadly. 'Oh, Sir, this would be naught, save that I am all that lies betweenher--the Lady Esclairmonde--and Boemond of Burgundy;' and as at thatmoment Bedford saw the gold betrothal ring on the finger, his countenancelost something of the pitying concern it had worn. Malcolm detected theexpression, and rallying his powers the more, continued: 'Sir, there wasno help--they vowed that she must choose between Boemond and me. On thefaith of a dying man, I hold her troth but in trust; I pledged myself toher to restore it when her way is clear to her purpose. She would neverbe mine but in name. And now who will save her? My life alone isbetween her and yonder wolf. Oh, Sir Duke, promise me to save her, and Idie content. ' 'This is mere waste of time!' broke in the Duke. 'Where are the knavechirurgeons?--See, James, if the lad dies, 'twill be from mere loss ofblood; there is no inward bleeding; and if there be no more loitering, hewill do well. ' And seeing the surgeons at hand, he would have risen to make way, butMalcolm held him fast, reiterating, 'Save her, Sir. ' 'If your life guards her, throw it not away by thus dallying, ' saidBedford, disengaging himself; while Malcolm groaned heavily, and turnedhis heavy eyes to his royal friend, who said kindly, 'Fear not, dearcousin; either thou wilt live, or he will be better than his word. ' 'God will guard her, I know, ' said Malcolm; 'and oh! my own dear lord, Ineed not ask you to be the brother to my poor sister you have been to me. At least all will be clear for her and Patie!' 'I trust not yet, ' said James, smiling in encouragement. 'Thou wiltlive, my faithful laddie. ' Malcolm was spent and nearly fainting by this time, and all his reply wasa few gasps of 'Only say you pardon me all, my lord, and will speak for_her_ to the Duke! ask _her_ prayers for me!' and as James sealed his fewwords of reply with a kiss, he closed his eyes, and became unconscious;in which state he was conveyed to his bed. 'You might have set his mind at rest, ' said James, somewhat hurt, to theDuke. 'Who? I!' said Bedford. 'I cannot stir a finger that could set us atenmity with Burgundy, for any lady in the land. Moreover, if she havefound means to secure herself once, she can do so again. ' 'I would you could have been more kind to my poor boy, ' said James. 'Methought I was the most reasonably kind of you all! Had it not beenmere murder to keep him there prating and bleeding, I had asked of himwhat indiscretion had blown the secret and perilled the signet. Norobbers were those between Paris and Vincennes in our midst, but men whoknew what he bore. I'll never--' Bedford just restrained himself from saying, 'trust a Scot again;' buthis manner had vexed and pained James, who returned to Malcolm, and lefthim no more till called by necessity to his post as King Henry's chiefmourner, when the care of him was left to Patrick Drummond and oldBairdsbrae; and Malcolm was a very tranquil patient, who seemed to neednothing but the pleasure of looking at the ring on his finger. Theweapon had evidently touched no vital part, and he was decidedly on theway to recovery, when on the second evening Bedford met James, saying: 'Ihave seen Robsart. It was no indiscretion of young Glenuskie's. It wasonly what comes of dealing with women. Can I see the boy without perilto him?' Malcolm was so much better, that there was no reason against the Duke'sadmission, and soon Bedford's falcon-face looked down on him in all itsmelancholy. 'Thanks, my Lord Glenuskie, ' he said; 'I thought not to be sending you ona service of such risk. ' 'It was a welcome service, ' said Malcolm. Bedford's brows knitted themselves for a moment as he said, 'I came toask whether you deem that this hurt was from a common robber or_routier_. ' 'Assuredly not, ' said Malcolm, but very low; and looking up into hisface, as he added, 'This should be for your ear alone, Sir. ' They were left alone, and the Duke said: 'I have heard from Robsart howthe ring was obtained. You may spare that part of the story. ' 'Sir, ' said Malcolm, 'when the Lady Esclairmonde' (for he was not to bebalked of dwelling on that name with prolonged delight) 'had brought methe ring, Sir Lewis Robsart advised my setting forth without loss oftime. ' 'So he told me, ' said the Duke; 'and likewise that you took his words soliterally as to set out with only three followers. ' 'Ay, Sir; but he knew not wherefore. My escort had gone forth into thecity, and while they were being collected, a message bade me to the LadyEsclairmonde's presence. I went, suspecting naught, but I found myselfin presence of Madame of Hainault, and of a veiled lady--who, my Lord--'He paused. 'She was broad in form, and had a trick of gasping as thoughover-fat. ' Bedford nodded. Every one knew Queen Isabeau by these tokens. 'She scarce spoke, my Lord; but the Countess Jaqueline pretended to be inone of her merry moods. She told me one good turn deserved another, andthat, as in gratitude and courtesy bound, I must do her the favour ofeither lending her the signet, or, if I would not let it out of my hands, of setting it to a couple of parchments, which she declared King Henryhad promised to grant. ' 'The false woman!' 'Sir, words told not on her. She laughed and clapped her hands atwhatever I said of honour, faith, or trust. She would have it that itwas a jest--nay, romping fashion, she seized my hand, which I let herhave, knowing it was only my own seal that was on it. Never was I soglad that the signet being too small for my fingers, it was in my bosom. ' 'Knew you what the parchments bore?' asked, Bedford, anxiously. 'One--so far as I could see--was of the Duke of Orleans' liberty, ' saidMalcolm. 'The other--pardon me, Sir--it bore the names of Duke Humfreyand Countess Jaqueline. ' 'The shameless wanton!' broke forth Bedford. 'How did you escape her atlast, boy?' 'Sir, ' said Malcolm, turning as red as loss of blood permitted, 'she hadnot kept her hands off me; therefore when she stood between me and thedoor, I told her that discourtesy was better than trust-breaking, andwhile she jeered at my talking out of a book of chivalry, I e'en took herby the hands, lifted her aside, opened the door, ran down-stairs, and soto the stables, where I mounted with the only three men I could gettogether. ' Bedford could not but laugh, as he added, 'Bravely done, Lord Malcolm;but, I fear me, she will never forgive you. What next?' 'I left word for the other fellows to join us at the hostel by the gate, and tarried for them till I feared being here after the gates were fast;then set out without them, and rode till, just within the forest, a bandof men, how many I cannot tell, were on us, and before my sword was welldrawn they had surrounded me, and seized my bridle. One of them bade mesubmit quietly, and they would not harm me, if I would yield up thatwhich I wist of. I said I would sooner yield my life than my trust;whereupon they mastered me, and dragged me off my horse, and were riflingme, when I--knowing the Flemish accent of that drunken fellow of theCountess's--called out, "Shame on you, Ghisbert!" Then it was that hestabbed me, even at the moment when the holy Saints sent brave Percy andthe rest to rush in upon them. ' 'You are sure it was Ghisbert?' repeated Bedford, anxiously. 'As certain as a man's voice can make me, ' said Malcolm. 'Methinks, hadI not named him, he would perhaps have bound me to a tree, and left it tobe thought that they were but common thieves. ' 'Belike, ' said Bedford, thoughtfully. 'We are beholden to you, my LordGlenuskie; the whole state of England is beholden to you for the savingof the confusion and evils the loss of that ring would have caused. Youcan keep counsel, I wot well. Then let all this matter of the Queen andCountess rest a secret. ' Malcolm looked amazed; and Bedford added: 'I cannot quarrel with thewoman, nor banish her from Court. Did we accuse her, Holland wouldbecome Armagnac; nor is she subject of ours, to have justice done on her. It is for her interest to hush the matter up, and it must be ours too. Ifthat knave Ghisbert ever gives me the chance, he shall hang like a dog;but for the rest--' he shrugged his shoulders. 'And, ' said Malcolm, 'Ghisbert only meant to serve his lady. Any vassalof mine would do the like for me or my sister. ' Bedford half smiled; then sighed and said: 'Once we were like to get lawsmore obeyed than lords; but that is all over now! Yet you, young Sir, have seen a great pattern; you will have great powers!' 'Sir, ' interrupted Malcolm, 'I pray you believe me, great powers I shallnot have. As I told you last night, I do but hold this precious troth intrust! It must be a secret, or it would not save her; but you--oh, Sir!you will believe that!' 'If it be so, ' said Bedford, gravely, 'it is too sacred a trust to bespoken of. You will deserve greater honour if you keep your word, thanever you will receive from the world. Farewell--and recover fast. ' Malcolm did not meet with much encouragement from the few to whom hethought fit to confide the conditions of his espousal. The King allowedthat he could not have acted otherwise, but was concerned at it, becauseof the hindrance that might for years be interposed in the way of hiswelfare; and secretly hoped that Malcolm, in his new capacity, would sogain on Esclairmonde's esteem and gratitude, as to win her affection, andthat by mutual consent they would lay aside their loftier promises, andtake up their espousal where they had left it. And what James secretly desired, Sir Patrick Drummond openly recommended. In his eyes, Malcolm would be no better than a fool if he let his ladye-love, with all her lands, slip through his fingers, when she was lawfullyhis own. Patrick held that a monastery was a good place to be nursed inif wounded, and a convenience for disposing of dull or weakly youngersons; and he preferred that there should be some holy men to pray forthose who did the hard and bloody work of the world; but he had no desirethat any one belonging to himself should plunge into extra sanctity; andthe more he saw Malcolm developing into a man among men, the more heopposed the notion of his dedicating himself. A man! Yes; Malcolm was rising from his bed notably advanced inmanliness. As the King's keen eye had seen from the first, and asEsclairmonde had felt, there was an elevation, tenderness, and refinementin his cast of character, which if left to his natural destiny would haveeither worn out his life early in the world, or carried him to theobscure shelter of a convent. In the novelty of the secular life, andtemptations of all kinds, dread of ridicule, and the flood of excitementswhich came with reviving health, that very sensitiveness led him astray;and the elevated aims fell with a heavier fall when diverted fromheavenly palaces to earthly ones. Self-reproach and dejection drove himfurther from the right course, and in proportion to the greater amount ofconscience he had by nature, his character was the more deteriorating. His deeds were far less evil in themselves than those of many of hiscompanions, but inasmuch as they were not thoughtless in him, they wereinjuring him more. But the sudden shock of Patrick's danger roused himto a new sense of shame. King Henry's death had lifted his mind out ofthe earthly atmosphere, and then the treasure of Esclairmonde's pure andperfect trust seemed to be the one thing to be guarded worthily andtruly. It gave him weight, drew him out of himself, lifted him above theboyish atmosphere of random self-indulgence and amusement. To be theprotector who should guard her vows for the heavenly Bridegroom to whomher soul was devoted, was indeed a championship that in his eyes couldonly have befitted Sir Galahad; and a Galahad would he strive to be, solong as that championship held him to the secular life. James andBedford both told him he had won his spurs, and should have them on thenext fit occasion; but he had ceased to care for knighthood, save in thathalf-consecrated aspect which he thought would render his guardianshipless unmeet for Esclairmonde. She had not shunned to send him a kind greeting on hearing of his wound, and by way of token a fresh leaf of vellum with a few more of thosemeditations from Zwoll--meditations that he spelled over from Latin intoEnglish, and dwelt upon in great tranquillity and soothing of spiritduring the days that he was confined to his bed. These were not many. He was on his feet by the time the funeralcavalcade was in readiness to move from Vincennes to convey Henry ofMonmouth to his last resting-place in Westminster Abbey. Bedford couldnot be spared to return to England, and was only to go as far as Calais;and James of Scotland was therefore to act as chief mourner, attended byhis own small personal suite. Sir Patrick Drummond--though, shrugging his shoulders, he muttered thathe should as soon have thought of becoming mourner at the foul fiend'sfuneral as at the King of England's--could not object to swell theretinue of his sovereign by his knighthood; and though neither he norMalcolm were in condition for a campaign, both could ride at the slowpace of the mournful procession. The coffin was laid on a great car, drawn by four black horses, andsurmounted by Henry's effigy, made in boiled leather and coloured to thelife, robed in purple and ermine, crown on head, sceptre and orb ineither hand. The great knights and nobles rode on each side, carryingthe banners of the Saints; and close behind came James and Bedford, eachwith his immediate attendants; then the household officers of the King, Fitzhugh his chamberlain, Montagu his cup-bearer, Ralf Percy and hisother squires, and all the rest. Four hundred men-at-arms in blackarmour, with lances pointed downwards, formed the guard behind; and thevanguard was of clergy, robed in white, bearing banners and wax lights, and chanting psalms. At the border of every parish, all theecclesiastics thereto appertaining, parochial, chantry, and monastic, turned out to meet the procession with their tapers; escorted it to theprincipal church; performed Mass there, if it were in the forenoon; andthen accompanied the coffin to the other limit of their ground, andconsigned it to the clerks of the next parish. At night, the royalremains always rested in a church, guarded by alternate watches of theEnglish men-at-arms, and sung over by the local clergy, while the escortwere quartered in the town, village, or abbey where the halt chanced tobe made. Very slow was this progress; almost like a continual dream wasthat long column, moving, moving on--white in front, black behind--whenseen winding over a hill, or, sometimes, the banners peering over theautumn foliage of some thicket, all composed to profound silence andtardy measured tread; while the chants rose and fell with the breeze, like unearthly music. Many moved on more than half asleep; and others ofthe younger men felt like Ralf Percy, who, for all his real sorrow forthe King, declared that, were it not for rushing out, morning andevening, for a bathe and a gallop, to fly a hawk or chase a hare, heshould some day run crazed, blow out all the wax lights, or play some madprank to break the intolerable oppression. Malcolm smiled at this; butto him, still in the dreamy inertness of recovery, this tranquil onwardmovement in the still autumn weather had some thing in it of healinginfluence; and the sweet chants, the continual offices of devotion, wereaccordant with his present tone of mind, and deepened the purpose he hadformed. Queen Catherine and her ladies joined the funeral march at Rouen, orrather followed it at a mile's interval; but the two trains kept apart, and only occasional messages were sent from one to the other. Some ofthe gentlemen, who had a wife or sister in the Queen's suite, would rideat nightfall to pay her a hasty visit; but Malcolm--though he longed tobe sent--durst not intrude upon Esclairmonde; and the Duke of Bedford wasnot only forced to spend all the evening and half the night in business, but was not loth to put off the day of the meeting with his dear sisterCatherine--to say nothing of the 'Woman of Hainault. ' Therefore it was not until all had arrived at Calais, where a fleet waswaiting to meet them, that any visits were openly made by the one partyto the other. Bedford and James went together to the apartments of the Queen, and whilethey saw her in private, Malcolm came blushing towards Esclairmonde, andwas welcomed by her with a frank smile, outstretched hand, and kindinquiry after his recovery. She treated him indeed as a brother, as one on whom she depended, and hadreally wished to see and arrange with. She told him that Alice Montaguand her husband were returning to England, and that her little friend hadso earnestly prayed her to abide with her at Middleham for the present, that she had consented--'until such time as the way be open, ' saidEsclairmonde, with her steady patient smile. Malcolm bowed his head. 'I am glad you will not be forced to be withyour Countess, ' he said. 'My poor lady! Maybe I have spoken too plainly. But I owe her much. Imust ever pray for her. And you, my lord?' 'I, ' said Malcolm, 'shall go to study at Oxford. Dr. Bennet intendsreturning thither to continue his course of teaching, and my king hasconsented to my studying with him. It will not cut me off, lady, fromthat which you permit me to be. King Henry and his brothers have allbeen scholars there. ' 'I understand, ' said Esclairmonde, slightly colouring. 'It is well. Andtruly I trust that matters may be so guided, that care for me may notlong detain you from more lasting vows--be they of heaven or earth. ' 'Lady, ' said Malcolm, earnestly, 'none who had been plighted to you_could_ pledge himself to aught else save One above!' Then, feeling in himself, or seeing in Esclairmonde's face, that he wastreading on dangerous ground, he asked leave to present to her hiscousin, Patrick Drummond: and this was accordingly done; the ladycomporting herself with so much sweet graciousness, that the good knight, as they left the hall, exclaimed: 'By St. Andrew, Malcolm, if you letthat maiden escape you now she is more than half-wedded to you, you'll bethe greatest fool in broad Scotland. Why, she is a very queen forbeauty, and would rule Glenuskie like a princess--ay, and defend theCastle like Black Agnes of Dunbar herself! If you give her up, ye'll beno better than a clod. ' Malcolm and Patrick had been borne off by James's quitting the Castle;Bedford remained longer, having affairs to arrange with the Queen. As heleft her, he too turned aside to the window where Esclairmonde sat asusual spinning, and Lady Montagu not far off, but at present absorbed byher father, who was to remain in France. One moment's hesitation, and then Bedford stepped towards the Demoisellede Luxemburg, and greeted her. She looked up in his face, and saw itssettled look of sad patient energy, which made it full ten years older inappearance than when they had sat together at Pentecost, and she markedthe badge that he had assumed, a torn-up root with the motto, 'The rootis dead. ' 'Ah! my lord, things are changed, ' she could not help saying, as she feltthat he yearned for comfort. 'Changed indeed!' he said; 'God's will be done! Lady, ' he added, 'youwot of that which once passed between us. I was grieved at first thatyou chose a different protector in your need. ' 'You _could_ not, my lord, ' faltered Esclairmonde, crimson as she neverhad been when speaking to Malcolm. 'No, I _could_ not, ' said Bedford; 'and, lady, my purpose was to thankyou for the generous soul that perceived that so it is. You spared mefrom a cruel case. I have no self any longer, Esclairmonde; all I am, all I have, all I can, must be spent in guarding Harry's work for hisboy. To all else I am henceforth dead; and all I can do is to bethankful, lady, that you have spared me the sorest trial of all, both toheart and honour. ' Esclairmonde's eyes were downcast, as she said, 'Heaven is the protectorof those of true and kind purpose;' and then gathering courage, as beingperfectly aware to whom Bedford must give his hand if he would conciliateBurgundy, she added, 'And, verily, Sir, the way of policy is this time ahappy one. Let me but tell you how I have known and loved gentle LadyAnne. ' Bedford shook his head with a half smile and a heavy sigh. 'Time failsme, dear lady, ' he said; 'and I cannot brook any maiden's praise, evenfrom you. I only wait to ask whether there be any way yet left wherein Ican serve you. I will strive to deal with your kinsmen to restore yourlands. ' 'Hold!' said Esclairmonde. 'Never for lands of mine will I have yourdifficulties added to. No--let them go! It was a vain, proud dream whenI thought myself most humble, to become a foundress; and if I know mykinsmen, they will be too much angered to bestow on me the dower requiredby a convent. No, Sir; all I would dare to inquire would be, whether youhave any voice in choosing the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's Hospital?' 'The bedeswomen! They come chiefly from the citizens, not from princelyhouses like yours!' said John, in consternation. 'I have done with princely houses, ' said Esclairmonde. 'A Flemish maidenwould be of no small service among the many whom trade brings to yourport from the Netherlands, and my longing has ever been to serve my Lordthrough His poor and afflicted. ' 'It is my father's widow who holds the appointments, ' said John. 'Betweenher and me there hath been little good-will, but my dear brother's lastact towards her was of forgiveness. She may wish to keep well with us ofthe Regency--and more like still, she will be pleased that one of sogreat a house as yours should sue to her. I will give you a letter toher, praying her to remember you at the next vacancy; and mayhap, if theLady Montagu could take you to visit her, you could prevail with her!But, surely, some nunnery more worthy of your rank--' 'There is none that I should love so well, ' said Esclairmonde, smiling. 'Mayhap I have learnt to be a vagabond, but I cannot but desire to toilas well as pray. ' 'And you are willing to wait for a vacancy?' 'When once safe from my kinsmen, in England, I will wait under my kindAlice's wing till--till it becomes expedient that yonder gentleman be setfree. ' 'You trust him?' said Bedford. 'Entirely, ' responded Esclairmonde, heartily. 'Happy lad!' half sighed the Duke; but, even as he did so, he stood up tobid the lady adieu--lingering for a moment more, to gaze at the face hehad longed for permission to love--and thus take leave of all his youthand joy, addressing himself again to that burthen of care which inthirteen years laid him in his grave at Rouen. As he left the Castle and came out into the steep fortified street, RalfPercy came up to him, laughing. 'Here, my lord, are those two honestYorkshire knights running all over Calais to make a petition to you. ' 'What--Trenton and Kitson! I thought their year of service was up, andthey were going home!' 'Ay, my lord, ' said Kitson, who with his comrade had followed close inPercy's wake, 'we were going home to bid Mistress Agnes take her choiceof us; but this morn we've met a pursuivant that is come with Norroy King-at-arms, and what doth he but tell us that no sooner were our backsturned, than what doth Mistress Agnes but wed--ay, wed outright--one Tomof the Lee, a sneaking rogue that either of us would have beat black andblue, had we ever seen him utter a word to her? A knight's lady--not tosay two--as she might have been! So, my lord, we not being willing to gohome and be a laughing-stock, crave your license to be of your guard aswe were of King Harry's, and show how far we can go among the French. ' 'And welcome; no good swords can be other than welcome!' said Bedford, not diverted as his brother would have been, but with a heartiness thatnever failed to win respectful affection. Long did James and Bedford walk up and down the Castle court together, while the embarkation was going on. The question weighed on them bothwhether they should ever meet more, after eighteen years of youth spenttogether. 'Youth is gone, ' said Bedford. 'We have been under a mighty master, andnow God help us to do his work. ' 'You!' said James; 'but for me--it is like to be the library and theRound Tower again. ' 'Scarcely, ' said Bedford, 'the Beauforts will never rest till Joan is ona throne. ' James smiled. 'Ay, ' said Bedford, 'the Bishop of Winchester will be no small power, youwill find. Would that I could throw up this France and come home, for heand Humfrey will clash for ever. James, an you love me, see Humfreyalone, and remind him that all the welfare of Harry's child may hang onhis forbearance--on union with the Bishop. Tell him, if he ever lovedthe noblest brother that ever lived, to rein himself in, and live onlyfor the child's good, not his own. Tell him that Bedford and Gloucestermust be nothing henceforth--only heads and hands doing Harry's will forhis babe. Oh, James, what can you tell Humfrey that will make him puthimself aside?' 'You have writ to him Harry's words as to Dame Jac?' 'The wanton! ay, I have; and if you can whisper in his ear that matter ofMalcolm and the signet, it might lessen his inclination. But, ' hesighed, 'I have little hope, James; I see nothing for Lancaster but thatwhich the old man at York invoked upon us!' 'Yet, when I look at you and Humfrey, and think of the contrast with myown father's brethren, I see nothing but hope and promise for England, 'said James. 'We must do our best, however heavy-hearted, ' said John of Bedford, pausing in his walk, and standing steadfast. 'The rod becomes a palm tothose who do not freshly bring it on themselves. May this poor child ofHarry's be bred up so that he may be fit to meet evil or good!' 'Poor child, ' repeated James. 'Were he not there, and you--' 'Peace, James, ' said Bedford; 'it is well that such a weight is notadded! While I act for my nephew, I know my duty; were it for myself, methinks I should be crazed with doubts and questions. Well, ' as amessenger came up with tidings that all was ready, 'fare thee well, Jamie. In you I lose the only man with whom I can speak my mind, or takecounsel. You'll not let me gain a foe, as well as lose a friend, whenyou get home?' 'Never, in heart, John!' said the King. 'As to hand--Scotland must be toEngland what she will have her. Would that I saw my way thither! Windsorwill have lost all that made captivity well-nigh sweet. And so farewell, dear brother. I thank you for the granting to me of this sacred charge. ' And so, with hands clasped and wrung together, with tears raining fromJames's eyes, and a dry settled melancholy more sad than tears on John'scountenance, the two friends parted, never again to meet; each to run acourse true, brave, and short--extinguished the one in bitter grief, theother in blood. On All Saints' Day, while James stood with Humfrey of Gloucester at thehead of the grave at Westminster, where Henry's earthly form was laid torest amid the kings his fathers, amid the wail of a people as sorrowfulas if they knew all the woes that were to ensue, Bedford was in likemanner standing over a grave at the Royal Abbey of St. Denis. He, thevictor's brother, represented all the princely kindred of Charles VI. OfFrance, and, with his heart at Westminster, filled the chief mourner'splace over the king who had pined to death for his conqueror. The same infant was proclaimed king over each grave--heir to France andEngland, to Valois and Lancaster. Poor child, his real heirloom was theinsanity of the one and the doom of the other! Well for him that therewas within him that holy innocence that made his life a martyrdom! CHAPTER XVI: THE CAGE OPEN More than a year had passed, and it was March when Malcolm was descendingthe stone stair that leads so picturesquely beneath the archway of itstower up to the hall of the college of St. Mary Winton, then _really_ NewCollege. He had been residing there with Dr. Bennet, associating withthe young members of the foundation educated at Winchester, and studyingwith all the freshness of a recent institution. It had been a very happytime for him, within the gray stone walls that pleasantly recalledColdingham, though without Coldingham's defensive aspect, and with amplefood for the mind, which had again returned to its natural state ofinquiring reflection and ardour for knowledge. Daily Malcolm woke early, attended Matins and Mass in the chapel, studiedgrammar and logic, mastered difficult passages in the Fathers, or copiedout portions for himself in the chamber which he as a gentleman commoner, as we should call him, possessed, instead of living in a common dormitorywith the other scholars. Or in the open cloister he listened and tooknotes of the lectures of the fellows and tutors of the college, andseated on a bench or walking up and down received special instructions. Then ensued the meal, spread in the hall; the period of recreation, inthe meadows, or in the licensed sports, or on the river; fresh studies, chapel, and a social but quiet evening over the supper in the hall. Allthis was varied by Latin sermons at St. Mary's, or disputations andlectures by notable doctors, and public arguments between scholars, bywhich they absolutely fought out their degrees. There were few collegesas yet, and those resident in them were the _elite_; beyond, there was agreat mob of scholars living in rooms as they could, generally very poor, and often very disorderly; but they did not mar the quiet semi-monasticstillness within the foundations, and to Malcolm it seemed as if thetruly congenial home was opened. The curriculum of science began to reveal itself to him with all thestages so inviting to a mind conscious of power and longing forcultivation. The books, the learned atmosphere, the infinitepossibilities, were delightful to him, and opened a more delightfulfuture. His metaphysical Scottish mind delighted in the scholasticarguments that were now first set before him, and his readiness, appreciation, and eager power of acquiring surprised his teachers, andmade him the pride of New College. When he looked back at his year of court and camp, he could only marvelat having ever preferred them. In war his want of bodily strength wouldmake real distinction impossible; here he felt himself excelling; herewas absolute enjoyment, and of a kind without drawback. Scholarship mustbe his true element and study: the deep universal study of the sisterhoodof science that the University offered was his veritable vocation. Surelyit was not without significance that the ring that shone on his fingerbetrothed him to Esclairmonde, the Light of the World; for though inperson the maiden was never to be his own, she was the emblem to him ofthe pure virgin light of truth and wisdom that he would be for everwooing, and winning only to see further lights beyond. Human nature felta pang at the knowledge that he was bound to deliver up the ring andresign his connection with that fair and stately maiden; but the painthat had been sore at first had diminished under the sense that he stoodin a post of generous trust, and that his sacrifice was the passport toher grateful esteem. He knew her to be with Lady Montagu, awaiting avacancy at St. Katharine's, and this would be the signal for dissolvingthe contract of marriage, after which his present vision was to bestowLilias upon Patrick, make over his estates to them, take minor orders, and set forth for Italy, there to pursue those deeper studies in theologyand language for which Padua and Bologna were famous. It was many monthssince he had heard of Lilias; but this did not give him any greatuneasiness, for messengers were few, and letter-writing far from being acommon practice. He had himself written at every turning-point of hislife, and sent his letters when the King communicated with Scotland; butfrom his sister he had heard nothing. He had lately won his first degree as Bachelor of Arts, and wasdescending the stair from the Hall after a Lenten meal on salt fish, whenhe saw below him the well-known figure of King James's English servant, who doffing his cap held out to him a small strip of folded paper, fastened by a piece of crimson silk and the royal seal. It only bore thewords:-- '_To our right trusty and well-beloved Cousin the Lord Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie this letter be taken_. 'DEAR COUSIN, 'We greet you well, and pray you to come to us without loss of time, having need of you, we being a free man and no captive. 'Yours, 'JAMES R. 'Written at the Castle of Windsor this St. David's Day, 1424. ' 'A free man:' the words kept ringing in Malcolm's ears while he hastenedto obtain license from Warden John Bonke, and to take leave of Dr. Bennet. He had not left Oxford since the beginning of his residencethere. Vacations were not general dispersions when ways and means oftransit were so scarce and tardy, and Malcolm had been long withoutseeing his king. Joy on his sovereign's account, and his country's, seemed to swallow up all other thoughts; as to himself, when he bade hisfriends and masters farewell, he declared it was merely for a time, andwhen they shook their heads and augured otherwise, he replied: 'Nay, think you I could live in the Cimmerian darkness yonder, dear sirs? Ourpoor country hath nothing better than mere monastery schools, and lightof science having once shone on me, I cannot but dwell in her courts forever! Soon shall I be altogether her son and slave!' Nevertheless, Malcolm was full of eagerness, and pressed on rapidlythrough the lanes between Oxford and Windsor, rejoicing to find himselfamid the noble trees of the forest, over which arose in all its grandeurthe Castle and Round Tower, as beautiful though less unique than now, andbearing on it the royal standard, for the little King was still nursedthere. Under the vaulted gateway James--with Patrick and Bairdsbrae behindhim--met Malcolm, and threw his arms round him, crying: 'Ay, kiss me, boy; 'tis a king and no caitiff you kiss now! Another six weeks, andthen for the mountain and the moor and the bonnie north countree. ' 'And why not for a month?' was Malcolm's question, as hand and eye andface responded heartily. 'Why? Why, because moneys must be told down, and treaties signed; ay, and Lent is no time for weddings, nor March for southland roses to travelto our cold winds. Ay, Malcolm, you see a bridegroom that is to be! Didyou think I was going home without her?' 'I did not think you would be in such glee even at being free, my lord, if you were. ' 'And now, Malcolm, ken ye of ony fair Scottish lassie--a cousin of mineain, who could be had to countenance my bride at our wedding, and ridewith us thereafter to Scotland?' 'I know whom your Grace means, ' said Malcolm, smiling. 'An if you do, maybe, Malcolm, sin she bides not far frae the border, ye'd do me the favour of riding with Sir Patrick here, and bringing herto the bridal, ' said the King, making his accent more home-like andScottish than Malcolm had ever heard it before. The happiness of that spring afternoon was surpassing. The King linkedhis arm into Malcolm's, and walked up and down with him on the slopes, telling him all that had led to this consummation; how Walter Stewart andhis brothers had become so insolent and violent as to pass the enduranceof their father the Regent, as well as of all honest Scots; and how, after secret negotiations and vain endeavours to obtain from him a pledgeof indemnity for all that had happened, the matter had been at lengthopened with Gloucester, Beaufort, and the Council. The Scottish nation, with Albany at the head, was really recalling the King. This was thecondition on which Henry V. Had always declared that he should beliberated; these were the terms on which he had always hoped to return;and his patience was at last rewarded. Bedford had sent his joyfulconsent, and all was now concluded. James was really free, and waitedonly for his marriage. 'I would not tell you, Malcolm, while there might yet be a slip betweencup and lip, ' said the King; 'it might have hindered the humanities; andyet I needed you as much when I was glad as when all seemed like tofail!' 'You had Patrick, ' said Malcolm. 'Patrick's a tall and trusty fellow, ' said the King, 'with a shrewd wit, and like to be a right-hand man; but there's something in you, Malcolm, that makes a man turn to you for fellow-feeling, even as to a wife. ' Nevertheless, the King and Patrick had grown much attached to each other, though the latter, being no lover of books, had wearied sorely of thesojourn at Windsor, which the King himself only found endurable by muchstudy and reflection. Their only variety had been keeping Christmas atHertford with Queen Catherine; 'sorry pastime, ' as Drummond reported itto him, though gladdened to the King by Joan Beaufort's presence, in allher charms. 'The Demoiselle of Luxemburg was there too, statelier than ever, ' saidJames. 'She is now at Middleham Castle, with the Lady Montagu, and youmight make it your way northward, and lodge a night there. If you canwin her consent, it were well to be wedded when we are. ' 'Never shall I, my lord. I should not dare even to speak of it. ' 'It is well; but, Malcolm, you merit something from the damsel. You areten times the man you were when she flouted you. If women were notmostly witless, you would be much to be preferred to any mere Ajax orFierabras; and if this damsel should have come to the wiser mind that itwere pity to be buried to the world--' 'Sir, I pray you say no more. I were forsworn to ask such a thing. ' 'I bid you not, only I would I were there to see that all be not lost forwant of a word in season; and it is high time that something be done. Here be letters from my Lord of Therouenne, demanding the performance ofthe contract ere our return home. ' 'He cannot reach her here, ' said Malcolm. 'No; but his outcry can reach your honour; and it were ill to have such ahouse as that of Luxemburg crying out upon you for breach of faith totheir daughter. ' Malcolm smiled. 'That I should heed little, Sir. I would fain bearsomething for her. ' 'Why, this is mere sublimated devoir, too fine for our grossunderstandings, ' said James, ironically. 'Mayhap the sight of the softroseate cheek may bring it somewhat down to poor human flesh and bloodonce more. ' 'Once I was tempted, Sir, ' said Malcolm, blushing deeply; 'but did I notknow that her holiness is the guardian of her earthly beauty, I would notsee her again. ' 'Nay, there I command you, ' said the King; 'soon I shall have subjectsenough; but while I have but half a dozen, I cannot be disobeyed by them!I bid you go to Middleham, and there I leave all to the sight. ' The King spoke gaily, and with such kind good-humour that Malcolm, humiliated by the thought of the past, durst not make freshasseverations. James, in the supreme moment of the pure and innocentromance of which he was the hero, looked on love like his own as thehighest crown of human life, and distrusted the efforts after thesuperhuman which too often were mere simulation or imitation; but acertain recollection of Henry's warnings withheld him from pressing thematter, and he returned to his own joys and hopes, looking on thestruggles he expected with a strong man's exulting joy, and not evencounting the years of his captivity wasted, though they had taken awayhis first youth. 'What should I have been, ' he said, 'bred up in the tumults at home? Whatcould I have known better than Perth? Nay, had I been sent home when Icame to age, as a raw lad, how would one or other by fraud or force havegot the upper hand, so as I might never have won it back. No, I wouldnot have foregone one year of study--far less that campaign in France, and the sight of Harry in war and in policy. ' James also took Malcolm to see the child king, his little master. This, the third king of James's captivity, was now a fair creature of two yearsold. He trotted to meet his visitor, calling him by a baby name forbrother, and stretching out his arms to be lifted up and fondled; for, asDame Alice Boteller, his _gouvernante_, muttered, he knew the King ofScots better than he did his own mother. A retinue had been already collected, and equipments prepared, so thatthere was no delay in sending forth Malcolm and Patrick upon theirnorthward journey. At the nearest town they halted, sending forward amessenger to announce their neighbourhood to the old Countess ofSalisbury and her grand-daughter Lady Montagu, and to request permissionto halt for 'Mothering Sunday' at the Castle. In return a whole band of squires and retainers came forth, headed by theknightly seneschal, to invite Lord Malcolm Stewart and his companion tothe Castle; whereupon Sir Patrick proceeded to don his gayest gown andchaperon, and was greatly scandalized that Malcolm's preparationconsisted in putting on his black serge bachelor's gown and hood ofrabbit's fur such as he wore at Oxford, looking, as Patrick declared, nobetter than a begging scholar. But Malcolm had made up his mind that ifhe appeared before Esclairmonde at all it should be in no other guise;and thus it was that he rode like a black spot in the midst of thecavalcade, bright with the colours of Nevil and of Montagu, and wasmarshalled up the broad stairs by the silver wand of the seneschal. Lord Montagu had gone back to the wars; so the family at home consistedof the grand, stately, and distant old Countess of Salisbury, and heryoung grand-daughter, the Lady Montagu, with her three months' old son. Each had an almost royal suite of well-born dames and damsels inattendance, among whom the Demoiselle de Luxemburg alone was on anequality with the mistresses of the house. Even Queen Catherine'spresence-chamber had hardly equalled the grand baronial ceremony of thehall, where sat the three ladies in the midst of their circle ofattendants, male and female ranged on opposite sides; and old LadySalisbury knew the exact number of paces that it befitted her and LadyMontagu to advance to receive the royal infusion of blood that flowed inthe veins of my Lord of Glenuskie. And yet it was the cheek, and not thehand, that were offered in salutation by both ladies, as well as byEsclairmonde. Malcolm, however, only durst kneel on one knee and saluteher hand, and felt himself burning with crimson as the touch and voicebrought back those longings that, as James had said, proved him humanstill. He was almost glad that etiquette required him to hand the agedCountess to her seat and to devote his chief attention to her. Punctilio reigned supreme in such a house as this. Nowhere had Malcolmseen such observance of ceremony, save in the court of the Duke ofBurgundy, and there it was modified by the presence of rough and readywarriors; but an ancient dame like Lady Salisbury thought it both the dueand the safeguard of her son's honour, and exacted it rigorously of allwho approached her. Alice of Montagu had the sweet fragile look of a young mother about her, but her frightened fawn air was gone; she was in her home, had found herplace, and held it with a simple dignity of her own, quite ready to ripeninto all the matronly authority, without the severe formality, of hergrand-dame. She treated Malcolm with a gentle smiling courtesy such as she had nevervouchsafed to him before, and all the shyness that had once made hersilent was gone, when at the supper-table, and afterwards seated aroundthe fire, the tidings of the camp and court were talked over with all thezest of those to whom King Harry's last campaign was becoming 'oldtimes'; and what with her husband's letters and opinions, little Alicewas really the best-informed as to the present state of things. Esclairmonde took her part in the conversation, but there was noopportunity of exchanging a private or personal word between her andMalcolm in a party of five, where one was as vigilant and grave-eyed asmy Lady Salisbury. However, the next was a peculiar day, the Fourth Sunday in Lent, called'Mothering Sunday' because on that day it was originally the custom forofferings to be carried from all the country round to the cathedral ormother church on that day. This custom had been modified, but it wasstill the rule that all the persons, who at other times worshipped at thenearest monastery chapel or at a private chapel in their own houses, should on that day repair to their parish church, and there make aspecial offering at the Mass--that offering which has since become theEaster dues. It was a festival Sunday too--'Refreshing Sunday'--then, asnow, marked by the Gospel on the feeding of the multitude; and from this, as well as from the name, the pretty custom had begun of offering themother of each house her rich simnal cake, with some other gift from eachof her children. Hearing a pattering of feet in the early morning, Malcolm looked out andbeheld a whole troop of small children popping in and out of a lowarchway. If he could have peeped in, he would have known how manysimnals Ladies Esclairmonde and Alice were sending down--with somethingmore substantial--to be given to mothers by the children who as yet hadnothing to bring of their own. But when the household assembled in the castle hall, they did see fairyoung Lady Montagu kneel at the chair of the grave old Countess, and holdup a silver dish, wherein lay the simnal, mixed, kneaded, and moulded byher own hands, and bearing on it a rich ruby clasp, sent by her father, the Earl, as his special gift to his mother on this Sunday. And then, when the old lady, with glistening eyes, had spoken herblessing on the fair young head bent down before her, and the grandchildrose up, there was the pretty surprise for her of her little swaddledson, lying in Esclairmonde's arms, and between the small fingers, that asyet knew not how to grasp, the tiny simnal; and moreover a fair pearldevised in like manner by the absent Sir Richard as a gift for his wife'sfirst 'Mothering Sunday. ' There was no etiquette here to hinder sweetAlice from passionately clasping her child, and covering him with kisses, as many for his father as for himself, as she laughed at the baby smilesand helpless gestures of the future king-maker, whose ambition andturbulence were to be the ruin of that fair and prosperous household, andbring the gentle Alice to a widowed, bereaved, and attainted old age. Well that none there present saw the future, as she proudly claimed theadmiration of Malcolm for her babe! She was equipped for the expedition to the parish church, as likewisewere Esclairmonde and almost all the rest; but the aged Countess couldnot encounter the cold March winds, and had a dispensation; and thusAlice, being the lady of the procession, contrived at the same time tocall Sir Patrick to her side, and bid Lord Malcolm lead the LadyEsclairmonde. For as the weather was dry and cold, Lady Montagu had chosen to go onfoot; and a grand procession it was that she led, of gentlemen andladies, two and two, in their bright dresses and adornments thatdelighted the eyes of the homely yeomen and their wives, flocking in fromtheir homesteads with baskets of offerings, often in kind. Meantime, Malcolm, holding the tips of Esclairmonde's fingers, durst notspeak till she began: 'This is a devout and pious household--full ofpeace and good government. ' 'And your time goes happily here?' asked Malcolm. 'Yes, it has been a peaceful harbour wherein to wait, ' said Esclairmonde. 'And even if Alice were called to her husband in France, my Lady Countesswill keep me with her till there be a vacancy for me at St. Katharine's. ' 'Have you the promise from Queen Joan?' 'Yes, ' replied Esclairmonde. 'The Countess had been a lady of hers, andwrought with her, so that whenever the post of bedeswoman is in her giftI shall be preferred to it. ' 'You, the heiress, accept the charity!' Malcolm could not helpexclaiming. 'The better for all remnants of pride, ' returned the lady. 'And you, mylord, has it fared well with you?' Malcolm, happy in her interest, poured forth all that he had to tell, andshe listened as Esclairmonde alone could listen. There was something inher very expression of attention that seemed to make the speaker take outthe alloy and leave only his purest gold to meet her ears. Malcolmforgot those throbs of foolish wild hope that had shot across him likedemon temptations to hermit saints, and only felt that the creature ofhis love and reverence was listening benignly as he told her of theexceeding delight that he was unravelling in learned lore; how each stepshowed him further heights, and how he had come to view the Light of theWorld as the light of wisdom, to the research of which he meant to devotehis entire life, among universities and manuscripts. 'The Light of Wisdom, ' repeated Esclairmonde--'so it may be, for Christis Heavenly Wisdom; but I doubt me if the Light of the World lies solelyin books and universities. ' 'Nay, ' said Malcolm. 'Once I was fool enough to fancy it was the lightof glory, calling knights to deeds of fame and chivalry. I have seenmine error now, and--oh, lady, what mean you? where should that light be, save in the writings of wise and holy men?' 'Methinks, ' said Esclairmonde, 'that the light is there, even as thelight is also before the eyes of the true knight; but it is not onlythere. ' 'Where is it then?' said Malcolm. 'In helmet or in cowl, I am the swornchampion of the Light of the World. ' 'The Light, ' said Esclairmonde, looking upwards, 'the true Light of theWorld is the Blessed Saviour, the Heavenly Wisdom of God; and Hischampions find Him and serve Him in camp, cloister, or school, orwherever He has marked their path, so as they seek not their own profitor glory, and lay not up their treasure for themselves on earth. ' 'Then surely, ' said Malcolm, 'the hoards of deep study within the mindare treasures beyond the earth. ' 'Your schoolmen speak of spirit, mind, and body, ' said Esclairmonde--'atleast so I, an ignorant woman, have been told. Should not the true Lightfor eternity lighten the spirit rather than the mind?' Malcolm pondered and said: 'I thought I had found the right path atlast!' 'Nay--never, never did I say otherwise, ' cried Esclairmonde. 'To seekGod's Light in good men's words, and pursue it, must be a blessed task. Every task must be blessed to which He leads. And when you areenlightened with that light, you will hold it up to others. When youhave found the treasure, you will scatter it here, and so lay it upabove. ' Esclairmonde's words were almost a riddle to Malcolm, but his reverencefor her made him lay them up deeply, as he watched her kneeling at theMass, her upturned face beaming with an angelic expression. His mind was much calmed by this meeting. It had had an absolutelycontrary effect to what King James had expected, by spiritualizing hislove, and increasing that reverence which cast out its earthliness. Thatfirst throb which had been so keen at meeting, and knowing her not forhim, had passed away in the refining of that distant worship he had paidher in those days of innocence. Lady Montagu was quite satisfied with him now. He was the Malcolm of herfirst acquaintance, only without his foolish diffidence, and with aweight and earnestness that made him a man and not a boy; and shecordially invited him to bring his sister with him, and rest, on the waysouthward. He agreed most thankfully, since this would be the onlyopportunity of showing Esclairmonde and Lilias one to the other, as wellas one of his own few chances of seeing Esclairmonde. Once they must meet, that their promises might be restored the one to theother; but as the betrothal remained the lady's security, this could notbe done till she became pledged at St. Katharine's. When the opportunitycame, she was to send Malcolm a messenger, and he would come to her atonce. Until then he promised that he would not leave Great Britain. On Monday the cousins proceeded, coming after a time to the route bywhich Malcolm had ridden three years before, and where he was now at homein comparison with Patrick. How redolent it was with recollections ofKing Harry, in all his gaiety and grace, ere the shock of his brother'sdeath had fallen on him! At Thirsk, Malcolm told of the prowess and theknighthood of honest Trenton and Kitson, to somewhat incredulous ears. The two squires had been held as clownish fellows, and the sentiment ofthe country was that Mistress Agnes was well quit of them, and the roughguardianship by which they had kept off all other suitors. As mine hostconcluded, ''Tis a fine thing to go to the wars. ' Hearing that Kitson's mother lived not a mile out of his way, Malcolmrode to the fine old moated grange, where he found her sitting at herspinning, presiding over a great plentiful household, while her secondson, a much shrewder-looking man than Sir Christopher, managed the farm. The travellers were welcomed with eager hospitality so soon as it wasunderstood that they brought tidings of 'our Kit'; and Malcolm's storywas listened to with tears of joy by the old lady, while the brothercould not get over his amazement at hearing that Trenton and Kitson hadbecome a proverb in the camp for oneness in friendship. 'Made it up with Will Trenton! And never fought it out! I'd never knowour Kit again after that!' His steady bravery, his knighthood, and the King's praise, his havingassisted in saving Lord Glenuskie's life against such odds, did not seemto strike Wilfred Kitson half as much as the friendship with Trenton, andMalcolm did not think the regret was very great at the two knights havinggiven up their intention of returning. 'Our Kit's' place seemed to haveclosed up behind him; Wilfred seemed to be too much master to be ready togive up to the elder brother; and even the mother had learnt to dowithout him. 'I'll warrant, ' quoth she, 'that now he is a knight and gotused to fine French ways, he'll think nothing good enow for him. And ifhe brought Will Trenton with him, I'd not sit at the board with thefellow. --But ye'll ride over, Wilfred, and take care the minx Agnes knowswhat she's lost. Ay, and if you knew of a safe hand, Sir, when theshearing is over I'd send the lad a purse of nobles to keep up hisknighthood in the camp, forsooth. ' 'Certes, ' said Malcolm, as after a salt-fish dinner he mounted again, 'ifhonest Kitson knew, he would scarce turn back from the camp, where he issomebody. Shall we find ourselves as little wanted when we get home, Patie?' Patrick drew himself up with a happy face of secret assurance. Nothingcould make Lilias forsake him, he well knew. At Durham they found their good friend Father Akefield, erst Prior ofColdingham, but who had been violently dispossessed by the House ofAlbany in favour of their candidate, Drax, about a year before, and wasthankful to have been allowed with a few English monks to retire acrossthe Border to the mother Abbey at Durham. The good father could hardly believe his eyes when he beheld Malcolm, nowa comely and personable young gentleman, less handsome and gracefulindeed than many, but with all his painful personal peculiarities gone, with none of the scared, imploring look, but with a grave thoughtfulearnestness about his face, as though all that once was timid andwandering was now fixed and steadfast. Father Akefield could tell nothing of Lilias since his own expulsion, butas the Prioress of St. Abbs was herself a Drummond, and no one durstinterfere with her, he had no alarms for her safety. But he advised thetwo gentlemen to go straight to St. Abbs, without showing themselves atColdingham, lest Prior Drax, being in the Albany interest, should makeany demur at giving her up to the care of the brother, who still wantedsome months of his twenty-first year. Accordingly they pushed on, and in due time slept at Berwick, receivingcivilities from the English governor that chafed Patrick's blood, whichbecame inflammable as soon as he neared the Border; and rising early thenext morning, they passed the gates, and were on Scottish ground oncemore, their hearts bounding at the sense that it was their own land, andwould soon be no more a land of misrule. With their knowledge of KingJames and his intentions, well might they have unlimited hopes for thecountry over which he was about to reign. They turned aside from Coldingham, and made for the sea, and at lengththe promontory of St. Abbs Head rose before them; they passed through theouter buildings intended as shelter for the attendants of ladies comingto the nunnery, and knocked at the gateway. A wicket in the door was opened, and the portress looked out through agrating. '_Benedicite_, good Sister, ' said Malcolm. 'Prithee tell the MotherAbbess that Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie is here from the King, andcraves to speak with her and the Lady Lilias. ' 'Lord Malcolm! Lady Lilias! St. Ebba's good mercy!' shrieked theaffrighted portress. They heard her rushing headlong across the court, and looked on one another in consternation. Patrick betook himself to knocking as if he would beat down the door, andMalcolm leant against it with a foreboding that took away hisbreath--dreading the moment when it should be opened. The portress and her keys returned again, and parleyed a moment. 'Youare the Lord Malcolm in very deed--in the flesh?' 'Wherefore not?' demanded Malcolm. 'Nay, but we heard ye were slain, my lord, ' explained theportress--letting him in, however, and leading them across the court, towhere the Mother Abbess, Annabel Drummond, awaited them in the parlour. 'Alas, Sirs, what grievous error has this been?' was her exclamation;while Malcolm, scarcely waiting for salutation, demanded, 'Where is mysister?' 'How? In St. Hilda's keeping at Whitby, whither the King sent for her, 'said the Abbess. 'The King!' cried Malcolm, 'we come from the King! Oh, what treacheryhas been here?' 'And you, Lord Malcolm--and you, my kinsman, Sir Patrick of the Braes, how do I see you here? We had heard you both were dead. ' 'You heard a lying tale then, good Mother, ' said Patrick, gruffly, 'nodoubt devised for the misery of the--of my--' He could not finish thesentence, and Malcolm entreated the Abbess to tell the whole. It appeared that about a year previously the chaplain of the monasteryhad learnt at Coldingham that Sir John Swinton of Swinton had sent hometidings that Patrick Drummond had been thrown from his horse and leftbehind in a village which the English had harried, and as he could notmove, he was sure to have been either burnt or hung. This conclusion wasnatural, and argued no malice in the reporter; and while poor Lilias wasstill in her first agony of grief, Prior Drax sent over intelligencederived from the Duke of Albany himself that Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskiehad been stabbed in the forest of Vincennes. This report Malcolm himselfaccounted for. He had heard a Scots tongue among his foes, thoughnational feeling had made him utterly silent on that head to the Duke ofBedford, and he guessed it to belong to a certain M'Kay, whose clanregarded themselves as at feud with the Stewarts, and of whom he hadheard as living a wild _routier_ life. He had probably been hired byGhisbert for the attack, and had returned home and spread the report ofits success. Some few weeks later, the Abbess Annabel continued, there had arrived twomonks from Coldingham, with an escort, declaring themselves to havereceived orders from King James to transport the Lady Lilias to thenunnery at Whitby, where the Abbess had promised to receive her, till hecould determine her fate. The forlorn and desolate Lilias, believing herself to stand alone in theworld, was very loth to quit her shelter and her friends at St. Abbs; butthe Abbess, doubting her own ability to protect her from the rapaciousgrasp of Walter Stewart, now that she had, as she believed, become anheiress, and glad to avert from her house the persecution that suchprotection would bring upon it, had gratefully heard of this act ofconsideration on the King's part, and expedited her departure. The twomonks, Simon Bell and Ringan Johnstone, had not returned to themonastery, but had been thought to be in the parent house at Durham; butMalcolm, who knew Brother Simon by sight, was clear that he had not seenhim there. All this had taken place a year ago, and there could be no doubt thatsome treachery had been exercised. Nothing had since been heard ofLilias; none of Malcolm's letters had reached St. Abbs, having doubtlessbeen suppressed by the Prior of Coldingham; and all that was certain wasthat Walter Stewart, to whom their first suspicions directed themselves, had not publicly avouched any marriage with Lilias or claimed theGlenuskie estates, or the King, who had of late been in closecorrespondence with Scotland, must have heard of it. And it was alsohardly possible that the Regent Murdoch and his sons, though they mightfor a few weeks have been misled by M'Kay's report, should not have soonbecome aware of Malcolm's existence. Unless, then, Walter had married her 'on the first brash, ' as Patrickcalled it, he might not have thought her a prize worth the winning; butthe whole aspect of affairs had become most alarming, and Malcolm turnedpale as death at the thought that his sister might be sufferingretribution for the sin he had contemplated. The danger was terrible! He could not imagine Lilias to have the moralgrandeur and force of Esclairmonde. Moreover, she supposed her loverdead, and had not the same motive for guarding her troth. Forlorn anddespairing, she might have yielded, and Walter Stewart was, Malcolmverily believed, worse to deal with than even Boemond. As the wholedanger and uncertainty came over him, his senses seemed to reel; he leantback in his seat, and heard as in the midst of a dream his sister's sobsand groans, Patrick's fierce and furious exclamations, and the Abbess'sattempts at consoling him. Dizzy with horror at the scene he realized, Lilias's cries and shrieks of entreaty were ringing in his ear, whensuddenly a sweet full low voice seemed to come through them, 'I am boundever to pray for you and your sister. ' Mingled with the cry came everthe sweet soft Litany cadences--'For all that are desolate and oppressed:we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord. ' Gradually the cries seemed to beswallowed up, both voices blended in _Kyrie eleison_ and then in the_Gloria_, and at that moment he became aware of Patrick crying, 'I willseek her in every castle in Scotland. ' 'Stay, Patrick, ' he said, rising, though forced to hold by his chair;'that must be my part. ' 'You--why, the laddie is white as a sheet! He well-nigh swooned at thetidings. You seek her, forsooth!' and Patrick laughed bitterly. 'Yes, Patie, ' said Malcolm, 'for this I am strong. It is my duty and notyours, and God will strengthen me for it. ' Patrick burst out at this: 'Neither man nor devil shall tell me it is notmine!' 'You are the King's prisoner still, ' said Malcolm, rising to energy; 'youare bound to return to him. The tidings must be taken to him at once. ' 'A groom could do that. ' 'Neither so swiftly nor surely as you. Moreover, your word of honourbinds you not to wander at your own pleasure. ' 'My honour binds me not to trust you--wee Malcolm--to wander into thewolf's cage alone. ' 'I am not the silly feckless callant I once was, Patie, ' answeredMalcolm. 'There are many places where my student's serge gown will takeme safely, where your corslet and lance would never find entrance. Noone will know me again as I am now: will they, holy Mother?' 'Assuredly not, ' said the Abbess. 'A student is too mean a prey to be meddled with, ' proceeded Malcolm, 'and is sure of hospitality in castle or convent. I can try atColdingham to find out whither the two monks are gone, and then follow upthe track. ' Patrick stormed at the plan, and was most unwilling it should be adopted. He at least must follow, and keep watch over his young cousin, or itwould be a mere throwing the helve after the hatchet--a betrayal of histrust. But a little reflection convinced him that thus to follow would onlybring suspicion on Malcolm and defeat his plans; and that it were betterto obtain some certain information ere the King should come home, andhave to interfere with a high hand; and Malcolm's arguments about hisobligations as a captive, too, had their effect. He perceived his ownincapacity to act; and in his despair at nothing being done consented torisk Malcolm in the search, while he himself should proceed to the King, only ascertaining on the way that Lilias was not at Whitby. And so, ingrief and anxiety, the cousins parted, and Malcolm alone durst speak aword of hope. CHAPTER XVII: THE BEGGING SCHOLAR 'The poor scholar, ' now only existing in Ireland and Brittany--nay, webelieve extinct there since the schoolmaster has become not abroad, butat home, in Government colleges--was to be found throughout thecommonwealth of Europe in the Middle Ages. Young lads, in whom conventschools had developed a thirst for learning, could only gratify it bymaking their way to some university, where between begging, singing, teaching, receiving doles, earning rewards in encounters of wit andlearning, doing menial services and using all manner of shifts, theycontrived to live a hard life, half savage on the one side, highlyintellectual upon the other. They would suck the marrow of oneuniversity, and then migrate to another; and the rank they had gained inthe first was available in the second, so that it was no means uncommonfor them to bring away degrees from half the universities in Europe, allof which formed one general system--all were like islands of one country, whose common language was queer Latin, and whose terms, manners, andcustoms were alike in all main points. Scotland contributed many of her sons to this curious race of vagabondstudents, when she herself was without any university to satisfy thecravings of her thoughtful and intellectual people. 'No country withouta Scot or a flea' was an uncomplimentary proverb due to the numerousyoung clerks, equally fierce for frays and for lectures, who flocked tothe seats of learning on the Continent, and sometimes became naturalizedthere, sometimes came home again, to fight their way to the higherbenefices of the Church, or to become councillors of state. It was true that Malcolm was an Oxford scholar, or rather bachelor, andthat Oxford and Cambridge were almost the only universities where Scotswere not--their place being taken by multitudinous Irish; yet not onlywere all universities alike in essentials, but he had seen and heardenough of that at Paris to be able to personate a clerk from thence. It was no small plunge for one hitherto watched, tended, and guarded asMalcolm had been, to set forth entirely alone; but as he had approachedmanhood, and strengthened in body, his spirit had gained much in courage, and the anxiety about his sister swallowed up all other considerations. Even while he entreated the prayers of the Abbess, he felt quite surethat he had those of Esclairmonde; and when he had hunted out of hismails the plain bachelor's rabbit-skin hood and black gown--which, perhaps, was a little too fine in texture for the poor wanderer--andfastened on his back, with a leathern thong, a package containing a fewbooks and a change of linen, his pale and intellectual face made him lookso entirely the young clerk, that Patrick hardly believed it was Malcolm. And when the roads parted, and Drummond and his escort had to turntowards Berwick, while Malcolm took the path to the monastery, it was theyounger who was the stronger and more resolute of the two; for Patrickcould neither reconcile himself to peril the boy, who had always been hisanxious trust, nor to return to the King without him; and yet no one wholoved Lilias could withhold him from his quest. Malcolm did not immediately speed to the monastery on taking leave ofPatrick. He stood first to watch the armour flashes gradually die away, and the little troop grow smaller to his eye, across the brown moor, tillthey were entirely out of sight, and he himself left alone. Then heknelt by a bush of gorse, told his beads, and earnestly entreateddirection and aid for himself, and protection for his sister; and whenthe sun grew so low as to make it time for a wanderer to seek harbour, hestained and daggled his gown in the mire and water of a peat-moss, so asto destroy its Oxford gloss, took a book in his hand, and walked towardsthe monastery, reciting Latin verses in the sing-song tone thenuniversally followed. As he came among the fields, he saw that the peasants, and lay brethrenwho had been working among them, were returning, some from sowing, othersfrom herding the cattle, which they drove before them to the byre withinthe protecting wall of the monastery. A monk--with a weather-beaten face and athletic figure, much like afarmer's of the present day--overtook him, and hailed him with'_Benedicite_, you there and welcome to your clerkship! Are you comingfor supper and bed in the convent?' Malcolm knew good-natured Brother Nicolas, and kept his hood well overhis face after the first salutation; though he felt confident that LordMalcolm could hardly be recognized in the begging scholar, as he madereply, '_Salve, reverende frater. Venio de Lutetia Parisiorum_. ' {1} 'Whisht with your Latin, laddie, ' said the brother. 'Speak out, ifyou've a Scots tongue in your head, and have not left it in foreignparts. ' 'For bed and board, holy father, I shall be most thankful, ' repliedMalcolm. 'That's more like it, ' said the brother, who acted as a kind of farmingsteward, and was a hearty, good-natured gossip. 'An' what's the name ofye?' He gave his real Christian name; and added that he came from Glenuskie, where the good Tutor of Glenuskie had been kind enough to notice him. 'Ay, ' said Brother Nicolas, 'he was a guid man to all towardly youths. Hedied in this house, more's the pity. ' 'Yea, Sir--so I heard say, ' returned Malcolm. 'He was a good friend tome!' he added, to cover his heavy sigh. 'And, Sir, how went it with theyoung laird and leddy?' 'For the young laird--a feckless, ugsome, sickly wean he was, puirladdie--a knight cam by, an' behoved to take him to the King. Nay, butif you've been at Parish--if that's what ye mean with your Lutetia--ye'llhave seen him an' the King. ' 'I saw the King, ' answered Malcolm; 'but among the Englishry. ' 'A sorry sight enow!' said the monk; 'but he'll soon find his Scots heartagain; and here we've got rid of the English leaven from the house, andbe all sound and leal Scots here. ' 'And the lady?' Malcolm ventured to ask. 'She had a winsome face. ' 'Ho! ho! what have young clerks to do wi' winsome faces?' laughed theBenedictine. 'She was good to me, ' Malcolm could truly say. 'They had her in St. Abbs yonder, ' said the monk. 'Is she there?' asked Malcolm. 'I would pay my duty and thanks to her. ' 'Now--there I cannot say, ' replied Brother Nicolas. 'My good MotherAbbess and our Prior are not the friends they were in Prior Akefield'stime; and there's less coming and going between the houses. There was anoise that Lord Malcolm had been slain, and I did hear that, thereupon, she had been claimed as a ward of the Crown. But I cannot say. If yegang to St. Abbs the morn, ye may hear if she be there--and at any rateget the dole. ' It was clear that the good brother knew no more, and Malcolm could onlythank him for his condescension, and follow among the herdsmen into thewell-known monastery court. Here he availed himself of his avowed connection with Glenuskie, to begto be shown good old Sir David Drummond's grave. A flat gray stone inthe porch was pointed out to him; and beside this he knelt, until themonks flocked in for prayers--which were but carelessly and hurriedlysung; and then followed supper. It was all so natural to him, that itwas with an effort that he recalled that his place was not at the hightable, as Lord Malcolm Stewart, but that Malcolm, the nameless beggingscholar, must be trencher-fellow with the servants and lay brethren. Hewas the less concerned, that here there was less danger of recognition, and more freedom of conversation. Things were evidently much altered. A novice was indeed, as usual, placed aloft in the refectory pulpit, to read aloud to the brethrenduring their repast, but no one seemed to think it needful to preservethe decorous silence that had been rigidly exacted during PriorAkefield's time, and there was a continual buzz of conversation. Lentthough it was, the fish was of the most esteemed kinds, and it wasevident that, like the monks of Melrose, they 'made gude kale. ' Few ofthe kindly old faces that Malcolm remembered were to be seen under theircowls. Prior Drax himself had much more the countenance of amoss-trooper than of a monk--mayhap he was then meditating that which heafterwards carried out successfully, _i. E_. The capture and appropriationof a whole instalment of King James's ransom, on its way across theBorder; and there was a rude recklessness and self-indulgence about thelooks, voices, and manners of the brethren he had brought with him, suchas made Malcolm feel that if he had had his wish, and remained atColdingham, he should soon have found it no haven of peace. The lay-brothers and old servants were fixtures, but the old faithful anddevout ones looked forlorn and unhappy and there had been a greatimportation of the ruffianly men-at-arms, whom the more pugnaciousecclesiastics, as well as nobles, of Scotland, were apt to maintain. Guards there had been in old times, but kept under strict discipline;whereas, in the rude conduct of these men, there was no sign that theyknew themselves to be in a religious house. Malcolm, keeping aloof fromthese as much as might be, gave such an account of himself as was mostconsistent with truth, since it was necessary to account for hisreturning so young from his studies. He had, he said, been told thatthere was an inheritance fallen due to him, and that the kinsman, inwhose charge his sister had been left, was dead; and he had come home toseek her out, and inquire into the matter of his heirship. Rude jokes, from some of the new denizens of the monastery, were spent onthe improbability of his finding sister or lands; if it were in theBarony of Glenuskie, the House of Albany had taken the administration ofthat into their own hands. 'Nay--but, ' said Malcolm, 'could I but see my young Lady Lilias, shemight make suit for me. ' The gray-headed lay-brother, to whom he addressed himself, replied thatit was little the Lady Lilias could do, but directed him to St. Abbs tofind her; whereat one of the men-at-arms burst out laughing, and crying, 'That's a' that ye ken, auld Davie! As though the Master of Albany wouldlet a bonnie lassie ware hersel' and her tocher on stone walls and dourold nuns. ' 'Has she wedded the Master of Albany, then?' asked Malcolm, concealinghis anxiety as best he might. 'That's as he pleases; and by my troth he took pains enow to get her!' 'What pains?' 'Why, once she slipped out of his very fingers; that time that he hadlaid hands on her, and the hirpling doited brother of hers cam down witha strange knight, put her into St. Abbs, and made off for England--sothey said. Some of the rogues would have it 'twas St. Andrew in bodilyshape, and that he tirled the young laird, as was only fit for a saint, aff to heaven wi' him; for he was no more seen in these parts. ' 'Nay, that couldna be, ' put in another soldier. 'Sandy M'Kay took hisaith that he was in the English camp--more shame till him--an' wasstickit dead for meddling between King Harry's brother and his luve. Itsorted him weel, I say. ' 'Aweel!' continued the first; 'gane is he, and sma' loss wi' him! An'yon old beldame over at St. Abbs, she kens weel how to keep a lass wi' atocher--so what does the Master but sends a letter ower to our Prior, bidding him send two trusty brethren, as though from the King, to conducther to Whitby?' 'Ha!' said Malcolm; 'but that's ower the Border. ' 'Even so; but the Glenuskies are all English at heart, and it sickertrained away the silly lassie. ' 'And then?'--the other man-at-arms laughed. 'Why, at the first hostelry, ye can guess what sort of nuns were ready tomeet her! I promise ye she skirled, and ca'ed Heaven and earth to help;but Brother Simon and Brother Ringan gave their word they'd see nae illdune to her, and she rade with them on each side of her, and us tallfellows behind and before, till we cam to Doune. ' 'And what became of her, the poor lassie, then?' inquired Malcolm, steadying his voice with much effort. 'Ye maun ask the Master that, ' said the soldier. 'I ken nae mair; I wassent on anither little errand of the Earl of Fife into the Highlands, andonly cam back hither a week syne, to watch the Border. ' 'Had it been St. Andrew that saved her before, he wad hae come again, 'pondered the lay-brother. 'He'd hardly hae given her up. ' 'Weel, I heard the lassie cry on the Master to mind the aith he had madethe former time; an' though he tried to laugh her to scorn, his eyes grewwild, and there were some that tell'd me they lookit to see thatglittering awsome knight among them again! My certie, they maun hae beenfeared enow the time he did come. ' Malcolm had now had his fears and suspicions so far confirmed, that heperceived what his course should next be. Strange to say, in spite ofthe horror of knowing his sister to have been a whole year in WalterStewart's power, he was neither hopeless nor disheartened. Lilias seemedto have kept her persecutor at bay once, and she might have done soagain--if only by the appeal to the mysterious relic, on which his oathto abstain from violence had been sworn. And confidence inEsclairmonde's prayers continued to buoy him up, as he recited his own, and formed his designs for ascertaining whether she were to be found atDoune--either as wife, or as captive, to Walter, Earl of Fife and heir ofAlbany. So soon as the doors of Coldingham Priory were opened, he was on his waynorthward. It was a sore and trying journey, in the bitter Marchweather, for one so little used to hardship. He did not fail inobtaining shelter or food; his garb was everywhere a passport; but hegrew weary and footsore, and his anxiety greatly increased when he foundthat fatigue was bringing back the lameness, which greatly enhanced thelikelihood of his being recognized. Kind monks, and friendly gude-wives, hospitably persuaded the worn student to remain and rest, till hisblistered feet were whole; but he pressed on whenever he found itpossible to travel, and after the first week found his progress lesstardy and painful. Resting at Edinburgh for Passion-tide and Easter Day, he found that theRegent Albany himself, with all his family, were at Doune, and heaccordingly made his way thither; rejoicing that he had had some littletime to perfect himself in his part, before rehearsing it to the personsmost likely to detect his disguise. Along the banks and braes of bonny Doune he slowly moved, with wearylimbs; looking up to the huge pile of the majestic castle in sickening ofheart at the doubt that was about to become a certainty, and thatinvolved the happiness or the absolute misery of his sister's life. Nay, he would almost have preferred to find that she had perished in herresistance, rather than have become wife to such a man as Walter Stewart. The Duke of Albany, as representing majesty, kept up all the state thatScottish majesty was capable of, in its impoverished irregular state. Hosts of rough lawless warriors, men-at-arms, squires and knights, livedat free quarters, in a sort of rude plenty, in and about the Castle;eating and drinking at the Regent's expense, sleeping where they could, in hall or stable, and for clothing and armour trusting to 'spulzie';always ready for violence, without much caring on whomexercised--otherwise hunting, or lounging, or swelling their master'sdisorderly train. This retinue was almost at its largest at this time, being swelled by thefollowing of the two younger sons of Murdoch, Robert and Alexander; andthe courts of the Castle were filled with rude, savage-looking men, somefew grooming horses, others with nothing to do but to shout forth theirjeers at the pale, black-gowned student, who timidly limped into theirlair. Timidly--yes; for the awful chances heavily oppressed him; and thehorrible scurrility and savagery that greeted him on all sides made hisheart faint at the thought of his Lily in this cage of foul animals. Hedid not fear for himself, and never paused until a shouting circle ofidle ruffians set themselves full in his way, to badger and bait the poorscholar with taunts and insults--hemming him in, bawling out ribaldmirth, as a pack of hounds fall on some stray dog, or, as Malcolmthought, in a moment half of sick horror, half of resolute resignation, like wild cattle--fat bulls of Bashan closing in on every side. Sohorrible a moment of distress he had never known; but suddenly, as hestood summoning all his strength, panting with dismay, inwardly praying, and trying to close his ears and commend himself to One who knew whatmockery is, there was an opening of the crowd, a youth darted down amongthem, with a loud cry of 'Shame! Out on you! A poor scholar!' andtaking Malcolm's hand, led him forward; while a laugh of mockery rose inthe distance--'Like to like. ' 'Ay, my friend and brother, I am Baccalaureus, even as you are, ' eagerlysaid the young gentleman, in whom Malcolm, somewhat to his alarm, recognized his cousin, James Kennedy, the King's nephew, a real Parisian'_bejanus_, ' or _bec jaune_, {2} when they last had met in the Hotel deSt. Pol; and thus not only qualified to confute and expose him, should heshow any ignorance of details, but also much more likely to know him thanthose who had not seen him for many months before he had left Scotland. But James Kennedy asked no questions, only said kindly, in the Latin thatwas always spoken in the University, 'Pray pardon us! _Mores Hyperboreisdesunt_. {3} The Regent would be grieved, if he knew how these_scelerati_ {4} have sorted you. Come, rest and wash--it will soon besupper-time. ' He took Malcolm to an inner court, filled for him a cup of ale, for hisimmediate refreshment, and led him to a spout of clear water, in the sideof the rock on which the Castle stood; where a stone basin afforded theonly facilities for washing that the greater part of the inhabitants ofthe Castle expected, and, in effect, more than they commonly used. Malcolm, however, was heartily glad of the refreshment of removing thedust from his weary face and feet--and heartily thanked his protector, inthe same dog-Latin. Kennedy waited for him, and as a great bell began toring, said '_Pro caena_, ' {5} and conducted him towards the great hallwhile Malcolm felt much impelled to make himself known, but was consciousthat he had not so comported himself towards his cousin at Paris as todeserve much favour from him. A high table was spread in the hall, with the usual appliances befittingprinces and nobles. The other tables, below the dais, were of the rudestdescription, and stained with accumulations of grease and ale; and nowonder, since trenchers were not, and each man hacked a gobbet forhimself from the huge pieces of beef carried round on spits--nor wouldthe guests have had any objection, during a campaign, to cook the meat inthe fashion described by Froissart, between themselves and the saddle. These were the squirearchy; Malcolm's late persecutors did not aspire tothe benches around these boards, or only at second hand, and for the mostpart had no seat but the unclean straw and rushes that strewed the floor. As James Kennedy entered the hall with Malcolm, there came from anotherdoor, marshalled by the seneschal in full feudal state, the Regent Dukeof Albany himself, his wife, a daughter or two, two sons--and Malcolmsaw, with beating heart, Lilias herself, pale worn, sorrowful-looking, grievously altered, but still his own Lily. Others followed, chieflyknights and attendants, but Malcolm saw no one but Lily. She took herplace dejectedly, and never raised her eyes towards him, even when, onthe Regent's question, 'What have ye there, Jamie?' Kennedy stood forthand answered that it was a scholar, a student, for whom he asked thehospitality of his kinsman. 'He is welcome, ' said the Regent, a man of easy good-nature, whose chiefmisfortune was, that being of weak nature, he came between a wickedfather and wickeder sons. He was a handsome man, with much of thestately appearance of King James himself, and the same complexion; but itwas that sort of likeness which was almost provoking, by seeming todetract from the majesty of the lineaments themselves, as seen in him whoalone knew how to make them a mask for a great soul. His two sons, Robert and Alexander, laughed as they saw Kennedy's companion, and calledout, 'So that's the brotherhood of learning, is it, Jamie?--forgatheringwith any beggar in the street!' 'Yea, ' said Kennedy, nothing daunted, 'and finding him much bettermannered than you!' 'Ay!' sighed Murdoch, feebly; 'when I grew up, it was at the Castles ofPerth and Doune that we looked for the best manners. Now--' 'We leave them to the lick-platters that have to live by them, ' saidAlexander, rudely. Kennedy, meanwhile, gave the young scholar in charge to a gray-headedretainer, who seemed one of the few who had any remains of good-breeding;and then offered to say Grace--he being the nearest approach to anecclesiastic present--as the chaplain was gone to an Easter festivity athis Abbey. Malcolm thus obtained a seat at the second table, and atolerable share of supper; but he could hardly eat, from intense anxiety, and scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry that he was out of sight ofLily. By and by, a moment's lull of the universal din enabled Malcolm to hearthe Regent saying, 'Verily, there is a look of gentle nurture about thelad. Look you, James, when the tables are drawn, you shall hold adisputation with him. It will be sport to hear how you chop logic atyour Universities yonder. ' Malcolm's spirit sank. Such disputations were perfectly ordinary work atboth Oxford and Paris, and, usually, he was quite capable of sustaininghis part in them; but his heart was so full, his mind so anxious, hiscondition so dangerous, that he felt as if he could by no means rallythat alertness of argument, and readiness of quotation, that wererequisite even in the merest tyro. However, he made a great effort. Hesecretly invoked the Light of Wisdom; tried to think himself back intothe aisles of St. Mary's Church, and to call up the key-notes of some ofthe stock arguments; hoping that, if the selection of the subject wereleft to Kennedy, he would hit on one of those most familiar at Oxford. The supper was ended, the tables were removed, and the challenge tookplace. Duke Murdoch, leaning back in his high chair by the peat-fire, while the ladies sat round at their spinning, called for the two youngclerks to begin their tourney of words. They stood opposite one another, on the step of the dais; and Kennedy, as host and challenger, assigned tohis opponent the choice of a subject, when Malcolm, brightening, proposedone that he had so often heard and practised on, as to have the argumentsat his fingers' ends; namely, that the real consists only in that whichis substantial to the senses, and which we see, hear, taste, smell, ortouch. Kennedy's shrewd gray eye glanced at him in a manner that startled him, as he made reply, 'Fellow-_alumnus_, you speak as Oxford scholars speak;but I rede ye well that the real is not that which is grossly tangible tothe corporeal sense, but the idea that is conceived within the immortalintelligence. ' The argument was carried on in the vernacular, but there was an unlimitedlicense of quotation from authors of all kinds, classics, Fathers, andschoolmen. It was like a game at chess, in which the first moves werealways so much alike, that they might have been made by automatons; andMalcolm was repeating reply and counter-reply, almost by rote, when acitation brought in by Kennedy again startled him. 'Outward things, ' said James, 'are the mere mark; for have we not heardhow "Telephus et Peleus, quum pauper et exsul uterque, Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba"?' {6} Was this to prove that he recognized a wandering prince in his opponent?thought Malcolm; but, much on his guard, he made answer, as usual, in hisnative tongue. 'That which is not touched and held is but a vain andfleeting shadow--"_solvitur in nube_. " {7} '_Negatur_, it is denied!' said Kennedy, fixing his eyes full upon him. 'The Speculum of the Soul, which is immortal, retains the image evenwhile the bodily presence is far away. Wherefore else was it thatUlysses sat as a beggar by his paternal hearth, or that Cadmus wanderedto seek his sister?' This was anything but the regular illustration--the argument was far toodirectly _ad hominem_--and Malcolm hesitated for a moment, ere framinghis reply. 'If the image had satisfied the craving of their hearts, theyhad never wandered, nor endangered themselves. ' 'Nor, ' said Kennedy, 'endeared themselves to all who love the leal andthe brave, and count these indeed as verities for which to live. ' From the manner in which these words were spoken, Malcolm had no furtherdoubt either that Kennedy knew him, or that he meant to assist him; andthe discussion thenceforth proceeded without further departures from theregular style, and was sustained with considerable spirit, till theRegent grew weary of it, and bed-time approached, when Kennedy announcedhis intention of taking his fellow-student to share his chamber; and, asthis did not appear at all an unnatural proposal, in the crowded Castle, Malcolm followed him up various winding stairs into a small circularchamber, with a loop-hole window, within one of the flanking towers. Carefully closing the heavy door, Kennedy held out his hands. 'Faircousin, ' he said, 'this is bravely done of you. ' 'Will it save my sister?' asked Malcolm, anxiously. 'It should, ' said his kinsman; 'but how can it be? Whatever is done, must be ere Walter Stewart returns. ' 'Tell me all! I know nothing--save that she was cruelly lured from St. Abbs. ' 'I know little more, ' said Kennedy. 'It was on a false report of yourdeath, and Walter had well-nigh obtained a forcible marriage; when herresistance and cries to Heaven daunted the monk who was to have performedthe rite, so that he, in a sort, became her protector. When she wasbrought here, Walter swore he would bend her to his will; shut her up inthe old keep, and kept her there, scantily fed, and a close prisoner, while he went forth on one of his forays. The Regent coming heremeantime, found the poor maiden in her captivity, and freed her so farthat she lives, to all appearance, as becomes his kinswoman; but theDuchess is cruelly strict with her, being resolved, as she says, to takedown her pride. ' 'They must know that I live, ' said Malcolm. 'They do; but Walter is none the less resolved not to be balked. Thingscame to a wild pass a few weeks syne. The Regent had never dared tellhim how far matters had gone for bringing back the King, when one dayWalter came in, clad for hawking; and, in his rudest manner, demanded thefalcon that was wont to sit on his father's wrist, and that had neverbeen taken out by any other. The Regent refused to part with the bird, as he had oft done before; whereupon his son, in his fury, snatched herfrom his wrist, and wrung her head off before all our eyes; then turningfiercely on your poor sister, told her that "yon gled should be a tokento her, of how they fared who withheld themselves from him. " Then rosethe Duke, trembling within rage; "Ay, Wat, " said he, "ye hae beenowermuch for me. We will soon have ane at home that will ken how toguide ye. " Walter looked at him insolently, and muttered, "I've heard ofthis before! They that wad have a master, may live under a master--butI'm not ane of them;" and then, turning upon Lady Lilias, he pointed tothe dead hawk, and told her that, unless she yielded to him with a goodgrace, that bird showed her what she might expect, long ere the King orher brother were across the border. ' 'And where is he now?' 'In Fife, striving to get a force together to hinder the King's return. He'll not do that; men are too weary of misrule to join him against KingJames; but he is like, any day, to come back with reivers enough toterrify his father, and get your sister into his hands--indeed, hismother is ready to give her up to him whenever he asks. He has sworn tohave her now, were it merely to vex the King and you, and show that he isto be daunted neither by man, heaven, nor hell. ' 'And he may come?' 'Any day or any night, ' said James. 'Since he went I have striven, invain, to devise some escape for your sister; but Heaven has surely sentyou to hinder so foul a wrong! Yet, if you went to Glenuskie and raisedyour vassals--' 'It would be loss of time, ' said Malcolm; 'and this matter may not be putto the doubtful issue of a fray between my men and his villains. Out ofthis place must she go at once. But, alas! how win to the speech ofher?' 'That can I do, ' said Kennedy. 'For a few brief moments, each day, haveI spoken to her in the chapel. Nay, I had left this place before now, had she not prayed me to remain as her only friend. ' 'Heaven must requite you, Cousin James, ' said Malcolm, warmly. 'Ideserved not this of you. ' 'All that I desire, ' said Kennedy, 'is to see this land of ours cease tobe full of darkness and cruel habitations. Malcolm, you know the Kingbetter than I; may we not trust that he will come as a redresser ofwrongs?' 'Know you not his pledge to himself?--"I will make the key keep thecastle, and the bracken bush keep the cow, though I live the life of adog to bring it about!"' 'God strengthen his hand, ' said Kennedy, with tears in his eyes; 'andbring better days to our poor land. Cousin, has not your heart burntwithin you, to be doing somewhat to bring these countrymen of ours tobetter mind?' 'I have grieved, ' said Malcolm. 'The sight has been the woe and horrorof my whole life; and either it is worse now than when I went away, or Isee it clearer. ' 'It is both, ' said Kennedy; 'and, Malcolm, it is borne in on me that we, who have seen better things, have a heavy charge! The King may punishmarauders, and enforce peace; but it will be but the rule of the stronghand, unless men's hearts be moved! Our clergy--they bear the office ofpriests--but their fierceness and their ignorance would scarce bebelieved in France or England; and how should it be otherwise, with noschools at home save the abbeys--and the abbeys almost all fortressesheld by fierce noblemen's sons?' Malcolm would much rather have discussed the means of rescuing hissister, but James Kennedy's heart was full of a youth's ardent plans forthe re-awakening of religion in his country, chiefly through the improvededucation of the clergy, and it was not easy to bring his discourse to aclose. 'You--you were to wed a great Flemish heiress?' he said. 'You will doyour part, Cousin, in the founding of a University--such as has changedourselves so greatly. ' Malcolm smiled. 'My only bride is learning, ' he said; 'my otherbetrothal is but in name, for the safety of the lady. ' 'Then, ' cried Kennedy joyfully, 'you will give yourself. Learning andculture turned to God's service, for this poor country's sake, in one ofbirth like you, may change her indeed. ' Was this the reading of Esclairmonde's riddle? suddenly thought Malcolm. Was the true search for heavenly Light, then, to consist in holding up tohis countrymen the lamp he was kindling for himself? Must true wisdomconsist in treasuring knowledge, not for his own honour among learnedmen, or the delectation of his own mind, but to scatter it among theserude northern souls? Must the vision of learned research and scholarlycalm vanish, as cloistral peace, and chivalrous love and glory, hadvanished before? and was the lot of a hard-working secular priest thatwhich called him? CHAPTER XVIII: CLERK DAVIE For Malcolm to speak with his sister was well-nigh an impossibility. Hadhe been detected, he would have been immediately treated as a spy, andthe suspicion thus excited would have been a dangerous preparation forthe King as well as for himself; nor was there any pretext for giving thewandering scholar an interview with her. But harsh and strict as was the Duchess of Albany--a tall, raw-boned, red-haired woman, daughter of the fierce old Earl of Lennox--and resolved asshe was to bend Lilias by persecution to accept her son, she could notdebar a young gentleman of the royal kindred, like James Kennedy, fromentering the apartment where the ladies of the family sat with theirneedles; and the Regent, half from pity, half from shame, had refused topermit Lilias Stewart's being treated as a mere captive. Thus Malcolm remained in Kennedy's room in much anxiety, while his cousinwent forth to do his best in his cause, and after some hours returned tohim with the tidings that he had succeeded in letting Lily know that hewas in the Castle. Standing over her while she bent over her embroidery, and thus concealing her trembling agitation, he had found it possible towhisper in her ears the tidings of her brother having come to save her, and of hearing her insist that Malcolm, 'wee Malcolm, must run no peril, but that she would do and dare everything--nay, would prefer death itselfto Walter Stewart. ' 'Have you any device in this matter?' demanded James Kennedy, when he hadthus spoken. 'Have you your college gown here?' inquired Malcolm. 'I have, in yon kist, ' said Kennedy. 'Would you disguise her therein?You and she are nearly of a height. ' 'Ay, ' said Malcolm. 'The plot I thought on is this--the worst is thatthe risk rests with you. ' 'That is naught, less than naught, ' said Kennedy. 'I had risked myselften times over had I seen any hope for her in so doing. ' Malcolm then explained his plan, namely, that if Lilias could haveKennedy's gown conveyed to her, she should array herself therein, and beconducted out of the castle by her cousin by one gate, he himself insecular garb going by another, and joining at some place of meeting, whence, as a pair of brothers, Malcolm and she might gain the Englishborder. James Kennedy considered, and then added that he could improve on theplan. He had long intended leaving Doune for his brother's castle, butonly tarried in case he could do anything for Lilias. He would at supperpublicly announce to the Regent his departure for the next day, and alsosay that he had detained his fellow-scholar to go within him. Thenarranging for Malcolm's exit in a secular dress among his escort, as oneof the many unobserved loungers, Lilias should go with him in very earlymorning in the bachelor's gown, which he would place in a corner of adark passage, where she could find it. Then if Malcolm and she turnedaside from his escort, as the pursuit as soon as her evasion wasdiscovered would be immediately directed on himself, they would have themore time for escape. It was a complicated plan, but there was this recommendation, thatMalcolm need not lose sight of his sister. Clerk as he was, youngKennedy could not ride without an escort, and among his followers hecould place Malcolm. Accordingly at supper he announced his desire toleave Doune at dawn next morning, and was, as a matter of course, courteously pressed to remain. Malcolm in the meantime eludedobservation as much as possible while watching his sister, who, in spiteof all her efforts, was pale and red by turns, never durst glance towardshim, and trembled whenever any one went near him. The ladies at length swept out of the hall, and Robert and Alexandercalled for more wine for a rere-supper to drink to James's good journey;but Kennedy tore himself from their hospitable violence, and again he andMalcolm were alone, spending a night of anxiety and consultation. Morning came; Malcolm arrayed himself in a somewhat worn dress ofKennedy's, with the belt and dirk he had carried under his scholar's garbnow without, and a steel cap that his cousin had procured for him on hishead. With a parcel in his arms of Kennedy's gear, he might pass for aservant sent from home to meet him; and so soon as this disguise wascomplete, Kennedy opened the door. On the turret stair stood a hoodedblack figure, that started as the door opened. Malcolm's heart might well seem to leap to his lips, but both brother andsister felt the tension of nerve that caution required too much to giveway for a moment. Kennedy whispered, 'Your license, fair Cousin, ' and passed on with thefree step of lordly birth, while a few paces behind the seeming scholarhumbly followed, and Malcolm, putting on his soldier's tread and thecareless free-and-easy bearing he had affected before Meaux, brought upthe rear with Master Kennedy's mails. As they anticipated, the household was not troubling itself to rise tosee the priest off. Not that this made the coast clear, for the floor ofthe hall was cumbered with snoring sleepers in all sorts ofattitudes--nay, at the upper table, the flushed, debauched, though youngand handsome, faces of Robert and Alexander Stewart might have beendetected among those who lay snoring among the relics of their lastnight's revel. The old steward was, however, up and alert, ready to offer the stirrup-cup, and the horses were waiting in the court; but what they had by nomeans expected or desired was that Duke Murdoch himself, in his longfurred gown, came slowly across the hall to bid his young kinsman Kennedyfarewell. 'Speed you well, my lad, ' he said kindly. 'I ask ye not to tarry in whatye must deem a graceless household;' and he looked sadly across at histwo sons, boys in age, but seniors in excess. 'I would we had mair ladslike you. I fear me a heavy reckoning is coming. ' 'You have ever been good lord to all, Sir, ' said Kennedy, affectionately, for he really loved and pitied the soft-hearted Duke. 'Too good, maybe, ' said Murdoch. 'What! the scholar goes with you?' andhe fixed a look on Lily's face that brought the colour deep into it underher hood. 'Yes, Sir, ' answered Kennedy, respectfully. 'Here, you Tam, ' indicatingMalcolm, 'take him behind you on the sumpter-horse. ' 'Fare ye weel, gentle scholar, ' said Murdoch, taking the hand that Lilywas far from offering. 'May ye win to your journey's end safe and sound;and remember, ' he added, holding the fingers tight, and speaking underthe hood, 'if ye have been hardly served, 'twas to make ye the secondlady in Scotland. Take care of her--him, young laddie, ' he added, turning on Malcolm: ''tis best so; and mind' (he spoke in the samewheedling tone of self-excuse), 'if ye tell the tale down south, nae illhath been dune till her, and where could she have been mair fitly thanbeneath her kinsman's roof? I'd not let her go, but that young blude ishot and ill to guide. ' An answer would have been hard to find; and it was well that he did notlook for any. Indeed, Malcolm could not have spoken without being heardby the seneschal, and therefore could only bow, take his seat on thebaggage-horse, and then feel his sister mounting behind him in anattitude less unfamiliar on occasion even to the high-born ladies of thefifteenth century than to those of our day. Four years it was since hehad felt her touch, four years since she had sat behind him as theyfollowed the King to Coldingham! His heart swelled with thankfulness ashe passed under the gateway, and the arms that clung round his waistclasped him fervently; but neither ventured on a word, amid Kennedy'sescort, and they rode on a couple of miles in the same silence. ThenKennedy, pausing, said, 'There lies your way, Brother. Tam, you may showthe scholar the way to the Gray Friars' Grange, bear them greetings fraeme, and halt till ye hear from me. Fare ye well. ' Lilias trusted her voice to say, 'Blessings on ye, Sir, for all ye havedone for me, ' but Malcolm thought it wiser in his character of retainerto respond only by a bow. Of course they understood that the direction Kennedy gave was the veryone they were not to take, but they followed it till a tall bush of gorsehid them from the escort; and then Malcolm, grasping his sister's hand, plunged down among the rowans, ferns, and hazels, that covered the steepbank of the river, and so soon as a footing was gained under shelter of atall rock, threw his arms round her, almost sobbing in an under-tone, 'MyLily, my tittie!--safe at last! Oh, God be thanked! I knew her prayerswould be heard! Oh, would that Patrick were here!' Then, as her facechanged and quivered ready to weep, he cried, 'Eh, what! art stilldeeming him dead?' 'How!' she cried wildly. 'He fell into the hands of your English, and--' 'He fell into the hands of your King and mine, ' said Malcolm. 'Yes, KingJames dragged him out of the burning house, and wrung his pardon out ofKing Harry. He came with me to St. Abbs to fetch you, Lily, and onlywent back because his knighthood would not serve in this quest like myclerkship. ' 'Patrick living, Patrick safe! Oh!' she fell on her knees among theferns, hid her face in her hands, and drew a long breath. 'Malcolm, thisis joy overmuch. The desolation of yesterday, the joy to-day!' Malcolm, seeing her like one stifled by emotion, fell on his knees besideher, and whispered forth a thanksgiving. She rested with her head on hisshoulder in content till he started up, saying in a lively manner, 'Come, Lily, we must be on our way. A very bonnie young clerk you are, withyour berry-brown locks cut so short round your face. ' Lilias blushed up to the short dark curls she had left herself. 'Had Ithought he lived, I could scarce have done it. ' 'What, not to get to him, silly maid? Here, ' as he shook out and donnedthe gown he had brought rolled up, 'now am I a scholar too. Stay, youmust take off this badge of the bachelor; you have only been in amonastery school, you know; you are my young brother--what shall we callyou?' 'Davie, ' softly suggested Lilias. 'Ay, Davie then, that I've come home to fetch to share my Paris lear. Youcan be very shy and bashful, you know, and leave all the knapping ofLatin and logic to me. ' 'If it is such as you did with Jamie Kennedy, ' said Lilias, 'it willindeed be well. Oh, Malcolm, I sat and marvelled at ye--so gleg ye tookhim up. How could ye learn it? And ye are a brave warrior too inbattles, ' she added, looking him over with a sister's fond pride. 'We have had no battle, no pitched field, ' said Malcolm 'but I have seenwar. ' 'So that ugly words can never be flung in your face again!' cried Lilias. 'Are you knighted, brother?' 'No, but they say I have won my spurs. I'll tell you all, Lily, as wewalk. Only let me bestow this iron cap where some mavis may nestle init. Ay, and the boots too, which scarce befit a clerk. There, yourhand, Clerk Davie; we must make westward to-day, lest poor Duke Murdochbe forced to send to chase us. After that, for the Border and Patie. ' So brother and sister set forth on their wandering--and truly it was ahappy journey. The weather favoured them, and their hearts were light. Lilias, delivered from terrible, hopeless captivity, her brother besideher, and now not a brother to be pitied and protected, but to protect herand be exulted in, trod the heather with an exquisite sense of joy andfreedom that buoyed her up against all hardships; and Malcolm was atpeace, as he had seldom been. His happiness was not exactly like hissister's in her renewed liberty and restoration to love and joy, for hehad known a wider range of life, and though really younger than Lily, hismore complicated history could not but make him older in thought andmind. Another self-abnegation was beginning to rise upon him, as hetravelled slowly southwards by stages suited to his sister's powers, andby another track than that by which he had gone. On the moor, or by theburn side, there was peace and brightness; but wherever he met with manhe found something to sadden him. Did they rest in a monastery, therewas often irregularity, seldom devotion, always crass ignorance. Themanse was often a scene of such dissolute life that Malcolm shunned tobring his sister into the sight of it; the peel tower was the dwelling ofsavagery; the farm homestead either rude and lawless or in constantterror; the black spaces on many a brae side showed where dwellings hadbeen burned; more than once they passed skeletons depending from thetrees or lying rotting by the way-side. And it was frightful to Malcolm, after his four years' absence, to find how little Lilias shared hishorror, taking quite naturally what to Alice Montagu would have seemedbeyond the bounds of possibility, and would have set Esclairmonde's soulon fire, while Lilias seemed to think it her brother's amiablepeculiarity to be shocked, or to long to set such things straight. He felt the truth of James Kennedy's words--that reformation could not bethe sole work of the King, but that his hands must be strengthened by allthe few who knew that a different state of things was possible, and that, above all, the clergy needed to be awakened into vigour and intelligence. Formerly, the miserable aspect of the country had merely terrified him, and driven him to strive to hide his head in a convent; but the strengthand the sense of duty he had acquired had brought his heart to respond toKennedy's call to work. Esclairmonde's words wrought within him beyond her own ken or purpose inspeaking them. He began to understand that to bury himself in an Italianuniversity and dive into Aristotle's sayings, to heap up his own memorywith the stores of thought he loved, or to plunge into the mazes ofmathematics, philosophy, and music, while his brethren in his own countrywere tearing one another to pieces for lack of any good influence toteach or show them better things, would be a storing of treasure forhimself on earth, a pursuit of the light of knowledge indeed, but not awooing of the light of Wisdom, the true Light of the World, as seen inHim who went about doing good. To complete his present course was, heknew, necessary. He had seen enough of really learned scholars to knowthe depths of his own ignorance, and to be aware that certain books mustbe read under guidance, and certain studies gone through, before hiscultivation would be on a level with the standard of the best workingclergy of the English Church--such as Chicheley, Waynflete, or the like. He would therefore remain at Oxford, he thought, long enough to take hisMaster of Arts degree, and then, though to his own perceptions only theone-eyed among the blind, he would make the real sacrifice of himself inthe rude and cruel world of Scotland. He knew that his king was well satisfied with Patrick, and also that aman of sound heart and prompt, hard hand was far fitter to rule as asecular lord than his own more fine-drawn mature could ever be; but as apriest, with the influence that his birth and the King's friendship wouldgive him, he already saw chances of raising the tone of the clergy, andthus improving the wild and lawless people. A deep purpose of self-devotion was growing up in his soul, but withoutsaddening him, only rendering him more energetic and cheerful than hissister had ever known him. As they walked together over the long stretches of moor, many were Lily'squestions; and Malcolm beguiled the way with many a story of camp andcourt, told both for his own satisfaction in her sympathy, and with thedesire to make the Scottish lassie see what was the life and what thethoughts of ladies of her own degree in other lands, so that the Lady ofGlenuskie might be awake to somewhat of the high purpose of virtuous homegovernment to which Alice of Salisbury had been trained. As to the Flemish heiress, no representation would induce Lilias to loveher. Reject Malcolm for a convent's sake! It was unpardonable; and asto a bedeswoman, working uncloistered in the streets, Lily viewed that asneither the one thing nor the other, neither religious nor secular; andshe was persuaded that a little exertion on the part of the brother, whomshe viewed as a paladin, would overcome all coyness on the lady's part. Malcolm found it vain to try to show his sister his sense of his owndeserts, and equally so to declare that if the maiden should so yield, she would indeed be the Demoiselle de Luxemburg to whom he was pledged, but not the Esclairmonde whom his better part adored. So he let thematter pass by, and both enjoyed their masquing in one another's companyas a holiday such as they could never have again. They had no serious alarms; the pursuit must have been disconcerted, andthe two young scholars were not worth the attention of freebooters. Theirwinsomeness of manner won them kindness wherever they harboured; andthus, after many days, without molestation they came to the walls ofBerwick. And now, while Malcolm thought his difficulties at an end, ahorror of bashfulness fell upon Lilias. She had been Clerk Davie merrilyenough while there was no one to suspect her, but the transmutation intoher proper self filled her with shame. She hung back, and could be hardly dragged forward to the embattledgateway of the bridge by her brother--who, as the guards, jealouslycautious even in this time of peace, called out to him to stand, showedhis ring bearing the royal arms, and desired to speak within the captainof the garrison, who was commanding in the name of the Earl ofNorthumberland, Governor of Berwick and Warden of the Marches, and whohad entertained him on his way north, and would have been warned byPatrick of his probable return in this guise. Instead of the stalwart form of the veteran sub-governor, however, aquick step came hurrying to the gateway, and the light figure of a youngknight stood before him, with outstretched hands, crying: 'Welcome to thegood town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, dear comrade!' And he added in a lowertone: 'So you have succeeded in your quest--if, as I trow, this fairestof clerks be your lady sister. May I--' 'Hold!' softly said Malcolm. 'She is so shamefast that she cannot brooka word;' and in fact Lilias had pulled her hood over her face, and shrunkbehind him, at the first approach of the young gentleman. 'We will to my mother, ' said Ralf, aloud. 'She has always a soft cornerin her heart for a young clerk or a wanderer. ' And so saying, without even looking at the disguised figure, he gave thepass-word, and holding Malcolm by the arm, led him, followed by Lilias, through the defences and into the court of the castle, then to a side-door, where, bounding up several steps at once of a stone stair, heopened a sort of anteroom door, and bade the two strangers wait therewhile he fetched his mother. 'That is well! Who would have looked to see him here!' cried Malcolm, joyously. 'What, you knew him not? It was Ralf Percy, my dear oldcompanion!' 'Ralf Percy! he that was so bold and daring?' cried Lilias. 'Nay, buthow can it be, he was as meek and shamefast--' 'As yourself, ' smiled Malcolm. 'Ah, sister, you have much to learn ofthe ways of an English gentleman among ladies. ' Before many further words could be exchanged, there entered a fair andmatronly dame in the widow's veil she had worn ever since the fatal dayof Shrewsbury--that eager, loving, yet almost childish woman whom we knowso well as Hotspur's gentle Kate (only that unfortunately her name wasElizabeth); fondling, teasing, being fondled and teased in return, andthen with all her pretty puerilities scorched away when she upbraidsNorthumberland with his fatal delay. Could Malcolm and Lilias have knownher as we do in Shakespeare, they would have been the more gratified byher welcome, whereas they only saw her kind face and the courtly sweep ofher curtsey, as, going straight up to the disguised girl, blushing andtrembling now more than ever, she said: 'Poor child, come with me, and wewill soon have you yourself again, ere any other eye see you;' and thenmoved away again, holding Lily by the hand, while Ralf, who had followedclose behind her, again grasped Malcolm's hand. 'Well done, Glenuskie; you have all the adventures! They seek you, Ibelieve! So you have borne off your damosel errant, and are just in timeto receive your king. ' 'Is he wedded then?' 'Ay, and you find us all here in full state, prepared to banquet him andlodge him and his bride for a night, and then I fancy my brother is to gothrough some ceremony, ere giving him up to his own subjects. We arewatching for him every day. Come to my chamber, and I'll apparel you. ' 'Nay, but what brings you here, Ralf?--you, whom I thought in France. ' ''Twas a Scottish bill that brought me, ' answered Ralf. 'What, are youtoo lost in parchment at Oxford to hear of us poor soldiers, or knew younot how we fought at Crevant?' 'I heard of the battle, and that you were hurt, but that was months ago, and I deemed you long since in the field again. Was it so sore amatter?' 'Chiefly sore for that it hindered me from taking the old rogue Douglas, and meriting my spurs as befitted a Percy. I was knighted while thetrumpet was sounding, and I did think that I was on the way to prowess, for fully in the _melee_ I saw a fellow with the Douglas banner. I madeat it, thinking of my father's and of Otterburn; and, Malcolm, this veryhand was on the staff, when what must a big Scot do but chop at me withhis bill like a butcher's axe. Had it fallen on mine arm it would havebeen lopped off like a bough of a tree, but, by St. George's grace, itlit here, between my neck and shoulder, and stuck fast as I went down, and the fellow was swept away from me. 'Twas so fixed in the very bone, that they had much ado to wrench it out, when there was time after thefight to look after us who had come by the worse. And what d'ye thinkthey found, Malcolm? Why, those honest Yorkshiremen, Trenton and Kitson, stark dead, both of them. Trenton must have gone down first, with alance-thrust in the throat; and there was Kitson over him, his shieldover his head, and his own cleft open with an axe! They laid them sideby side--so I was told--in their grave; and sure 'twas as strange and astrue a brotherhood as ever was between two brave men. ' 'The good fellows!' cried Malcolm. 'Nay, after what I saw I can hardlygrieve. I went to Kitson's home, where they knew as little as I did ofhis death, and verily his place had closed up behind him, so that Iscarce think his mother even cared to see him more, and the whole of themseemed more concerned at his amity with Trenton than proud of his featsof arms. I was marvelling if their friendship would be allowed tosubsist at home, even when they, poor fellows, were lying side by side intheir French grave. ' 'We warriors should never come home, ' said Percy; 'we are spoilt foraught but our French camp. I am wearying to get back once more, but solong as I cannot swing my sword-arm I must play the idler here. ' 'It must have been a fearsome wound, ' said Malcolm. 'The marvel is yourovergetting it. ' 'So say they all; and truly it has lasted no small time. They shipped meoff home so soon as I could leave my bed, and bade me rest. Nay, and mymother herself came even to London, when my brother was summoned toParliament, --she who had never been there since the first year after shewas wedded!' 'You can scarce complain of such kin as that, ' said Malcolm. ''Tis not the kin, but this petty Border life, that frets me. Here wemove from castle to castle, and now and then come tidings of a cattlelifting, and Harry dons his helm and rides forth, but nine times out often 'tis a false alarm, or if it be true, the thieves have made off, andbeing time of peace, he, as Warden, cannot make a raid in return. I'msick of the life, after the only warfare fit for a knight, with Frenchnobles instead of Border thieves; and back I will. If my right arm willnot serve me, the left shall. I can use a lance indifferent wellalready. ' As Sir Ralf Percy spoke, a bugle-call rang through the castle. Hestarted. 'Hark! that's the warder's horn, ' and flying to the door, hesoon returned crying--'Your king is in sight, Malcolm!' 'How soon will he be here?' 'In less than half an hour. There's time to array yourself. I'll takeyou to my chamber. ' 'Thanks, ' said Malcolm; 'but this gown is no disguise to me. I hadrather meet the King thus, for it is my fitting garb. Only I wouldremove the soil of the journey, and then take my sister by the hand. ' For this there was ample time, and Malcolm had arranged his hair, andbrushed away the dust from his gown, washed his face and hands, and madehimself look more like an Oxford bachelor, and less like a begging clerk, than he had of late judged it prudent to appear, ere Ralf took him to thegreat hall, where he found Lord Northumberland and the chief gentlemen ofhis household, with his mother, Lady Percy, and his young wife, togetherwith their ladies, assembling for the reception of their royal guests. Malcolm was presented to, and kindly greeted by, each of the principalpersonages, and then the Earl, Sir Ralf, and their officers went forth tomeet the King at the gateway. Malcolm, however, at his sister'sentreaty, remained with her, for in the doubt whether Patrick were reallyat hand, and a fond unreasonable vexation that he had had no part in herliberation, her colour was coming and going, and she looked as if shemight almost faint in her intense excitement. But when, marshalled by the two Percies, King James and Queen Joan hadentered the hall, and the blare of trumpets without and rejoicingswithin, and had been welcomed with deep reverences by the two ladies, Ralf said: 'Sir, methinks you have here what you may be glad to see. ' And standing aside, he made way for the two figures to stand forth, onein the plain black gown and hood, the other in the rich robes of a high-born maiden, her dark eyes on the ground, her fair face quivering withinemotion, as both she and her brother bent the knee before their royalmaster. 'Ha!' cried James, 'this is well indeed. Thou hast her, then, lad? See, Patrick! Where is he? Nay, but, fair wife, I must present thee thefirst kinswoman of mine thou hast seen. How didst bring her off, Malcolm?' And he embraced Malcolm with the ardour of a happy man, as headded, 'This is all that was wanting. ' Truly James looked as if nothing were wanting to his joy, as there hestood after his years of waiting, a bridegroom, free, and on the bordersof his native land. His eyes shone with joy, and there was a brightenergy and alacrity in his bearing that, when Malcolm bethought him ofthose former grave movements, and the quiet demeanour as though onlyinterested by an effort, marked the change from the captive to the freeman. And beautiful Joan, lovelier than ever, took on her her queenlydignity with all her wonted grace and graciousness. She warmly embraced Lilias, hailing her as cousin, and auguring joyouslyof the future from the sight of this first Stewart maiden whom she hadseen; and the next moment Patrick Drummond, hurrying forward, fell on hisknee before his lady, grasped, kissed, fondled her hand, and struggledand stammered between his rejoicing over her liberation and despair thathe had no part in it. 'Yea, ' said the King 'it was well-nigh a madman whom you sent home to me, Malcolm. He was neither to have nor to hold; and what he would have hadme do, or have let him do, I'll not say, nor doth he know either. I musthear your story ere I sleep, Malcolm. ' The King did not ask for it then: he would not brook the exposure of thedisunion and violence of Scotland to the English, especially the Percies;and it was not till he could see Malcolm alone that he listened to hishistory. 'Cousin, ' he said, 'you have done both bravely and discreetly. Methinksyou have redeemed my pledge to your good guardian that in the south youshould be trained to true manhood; though I am free to own that 'twas notunder my charge that you had the best training. How is it to be, Malcolm? Patrick tells me you saw the Lady of Light. ' 'Ay, Sir, but neither her purpose nor mine is shaken. My lord, I believeI see how best to serve God and yourself. If you will consent, I willfinish my first course at Oxford, and then offer myself for thepriesthood. ' 'Not hide thyself in cloister or school--that is well!' exclaimed theKing. 'No, Sir. Methinks I could serve yonder rude people best if I were amongthem as a priest. ' James considered, then said: 'I pledged myself not to withstand yourconscience, Malcolm; and though I grieve that the lady should be lost, she has never wavered, and cannot be balked of her will. Godly andlearned priests will indeed be needed; and between you and James Kennedy, when both are come to elder years, we may perchance lift our poorScottish Church to some clearer sense of what a church should be. Meanwhile--' The King stopped and considered. 'Study in England! Ay!You see, Malcolm, I must take my seat, and have the reins of my unrulysteed firm in my hand, ere I take cognizance of these offences. Thecaitiff Walter--mansworn that he is--he shall abye it; but that canscarce be as yet, and methinks it were not well that I entered Scotlandwith you and your sister at my side, for then must I seem to haveoverlooked an offence that, by this holy relic, I will never pardon. So, Malcolm, instead of entering Scotland with me--bonnie land, how sweet itsair blows from the north!--ye must e'en turn south! But how to disposeof your sister? Some nunnery--' 'Poor Lily, she is weary of convents, ' said Malcolm 'but if Lady Montaguwould let her be with her and the Lady Esclairmonde, then would she learnsomewhat of the ways of a well-ordered English noble house. And I couldwell provide for her being there as befits her station. ' 'Well thought of! The gentle Lady Alice will no doubt welcome her, ' saidthe King; 'and Patrick must endure. ' Thus then was it fixed. The King and Queen, stately and beautiful, royally robed, and mounted on splendid steeds, were escorted the nextmorning to the Scottish gate of Berwick by Lord Northumberland and hisretinue, and they were met by an imposing band of Scottish nobles, withthe white-haired Earl of Lennox at their head. To these the captive wasformally surrendered by Northumberland; and James, flinging himself fromhis horse, kissed his native soil, and gave thanks aloud to God, ere hestood up and received the homage of his subjects, to most of whom he wasa total stranger. Malcolm and Lilias on the walls could see all, but could not hear, andfinally beheld the glittering troop wind their way over the hills to makeready for the coronation of James and Joan as king and queen of Scotland. CHAPTER XIX: THE LION'S WRATH It was the 24th of May, 1425, when in the vaulted hall of the Castle ofStirling the nobles of Scotland were convened to try, as the peers of therealm, men of rank--no less than Murdoch, Duke of Albany, his sons Walterand Alexander, the Earl of Lennox, and twenty-two other nobles, most ofwhom had been arraigned in the Parliament of Perth two months previously, and had been shut up in different castles. Robert Stewart had escaped tothe Highlands; and Walter--who had neither been at the Coronation ofScone, nor at the Parliament of Perth, nor indeed had ever bowed hispride so as to present himself to the King at all--had been separatelyarrested, and shut up for two months in the strong castle on the BassRock. The charge was termed treason and violence; and assuredly there had beenperpetual acts of spoil and barbarous infractions of the law by men whodeemed themselves above all law. The only curiosity was, for which ofthese acts they were to be tried, and this affected many of their judgeslikewise; for there was hardly a man in that court who was not consciousof some deed that would not exactly bear to be set beside the code ofScotland, and who had not been in the habit of regarding those laws asall very well for burghers, but not meant for gentlemen. There, on seats behind the throne, sat the twenty-one jurors, EarlDouglas among them--a new earl, for the grim old Archibald had died inthe battle of Verneuil some months before. Angus, March, and Mar, andall the most powerful names in Scotland, were there; and upon his throne, in regal robes of crimson and ermine, the crown upon his brow, thesceptre in his hand, the sword of state held before him, sat King James, the most magnificent-looking king then reigning in Europe, but with thesternest, saddest, most resolute of countenances, as one unalterablyfixed upon the terrible duty of not bearing the sword in vain. Somethingof Henry's avenging-angel look seemed to have passed into his face, butwith far more of melancholy weight. Walter Stewart was led into the court. He too was a man of lofty statureand princely bearing, and his grand Stewart features were set in anexpression of easy nonchalance and scorn; aware as he was that ofwhatever he might be accused, there were few of his judges that did notshare the guilt, and moreover persuaded that this was a mere ceremony, and that the King would never dare to go beyond this futile attempt tooverawe him. He stood alone--his father and the others were reserved foranother trial; and as, richly arrayed, he stood opposite to the jury, gazing fixedly first at one, then at the other, as though challengingtheir right to sit in judgment on him, one eye after another fell beneathhis gaze. 'Walter Stewart of Albany, Earl of Fife, ' proclaimed the crier's voice. 'You stand here arraigned of murder and of robbery. ' 'At whose suit?' demanded Walter, undaunted. 'At the suit of Malcolm and Lilias Stewart of Glenuskie; and of PatrickDrummond of the Braes, ' returned the crier, an ecclesiastic, as were alllawyers; and at the same moment three figures came forward, namely, atall knightly gentleman with gold chain and spurs, a lady whose veildisclosed a blushing dark-eyed face, and a slender youth of deep andearnest countenance. 'At the suit of these here present you standarraigned, Sir Walter Stewart of Albany, for having feloniously, and ofmalice aforethought, on the Eve of the Annunciation of our Lady, of theyear of grace 1421, set upon the said Malcolm and Lilias Stewart, SirDavid Drummond of the Braes, Tutor of Glenuskie, and divers otherpersons, on the muir of Hetherfield; and having there cruelly andmaliciously wounded the said David of the Braes to the death; and ofhaving forcibly stolen and abducted the person of the said LiliasStewart--' The crier was not permitted to proceed, for Walter Stewart broke forth, passionately addressing the jurors. 'So this is all that can be found tobe laid against me. This is the way that matters of five years back areraked up to vex the princes and nobles of Scotland. I am sorry for you, lords and gentlemen, if this is the way that vexatious are to be stirredup against those who have defended their country so long. ' 'This is no answer to the accusation, Sir Walter, ' said the Earl of Mar. 'Accusation, forsooth!' said Walter Stewart scornfully. 'Who dares tobear witness, if I _did_ maintain my father's lawful authority overpeevish runaway wards of the Crown?' 'Sir Walter, ' said the King, 'you would have done better to have waitedand heard the whole indictment ere answering one charge. But since youdemand who will dare to bear witness in this matter of the murder of SirDavid Drummond of the Braes, and of the seizure of the Lady Lilias, hereis one. ' So saying, and rising as he spoke, he held forth the reliquary that hungfrom a chain round his neck, keeping his gleaming tawny eyes fixedsteadily straight upon Walter Stewart's face. That face, as he first had stood up, expressed the utmost amazement, andthis gradually, under the lion glance, became more and more of dismay, quailing, collapsing visibly under the passionless gravity of that look. Even the tall form seemed to shrink, the eyes dilated, the brows drewcloser together, and the chest seemed to pant, as the relic was heldforth. There was a dead silence throughout the court as the King ceasedto speak; only he continued to bend that searching gaze upon hisprisoner. 'Was it you?--was it your own self, my lord?' he stammered forth at last, in the tone of one stricken. 'Yea, Walter Stewart. To me it was, and on this holy relic, that youmade oath to abstain from all further spoil and violence until the Kingshould come again in peace. How that oath has been kept the furtherindictments will show. ' 'I deemed it was St. Andrew, ' faltered the prisoner. 'And therefore that the oath to a heavenly saint would better bearbreaking than one to an earthly sinner, ' replied James gravely. 'Readon, Clerk of the Court. ' The roll continued--a long and terrible record of violence and cruelty;the private warfare of the lawless young prince, the crimes of recklessbarbarity and of savage passion--a deadly roll, in which indeed even thesecond abduction of Lilias was one of the least acts laid to his charge. No lack of witnesses were there to prove deeds that had been done in theopen face of day, in utter fearlessness of earthly justice, and defianceof Heaven. The defence that the prisoner seemed to have been prepared tous?--that those who sat to judge him had shared in his offences, and hisdaring power of brow-beating them, as he had so often done before, as sonof the man who sat in the King's seat--had utterly failed him now. Hewas mute; and the forms of the trial were gone through as of one whosedoom was already sealed, but who must receive his sentence according tothe strictest form of law, lest the just reward of his deeds shouldpartake of their own violence. By the end of the day the jurors hadfound Walter Stewart guilty; and the doomster, a black-robed clerk, rising up, pronounced the sentence that condemned Walter Stewart ofAlbany to suffer death by beheading. Even then no one believed that the doom would be inflicted. Royal bloodhad never flowed beneath the headsman's axe; and it would have beeninfinitely more congenial to Scottish feelings if the King had sent aparty of men-at-arms to fall on the Master in the high road, and cut himoff, or had burnt him alive in his castle. The verdict 'served himright' would have been universally returned, and rejoiced in; but aregular trial of a man of such birth was unheard of, and shocking to thefeelings even of those whom that irresistible force of the King's hadcompelled to sit in judgment upon him. No one could avow it face to facewith the King; but every one felt it an outrage to find that no rank wasexempt from law. Duke Murdoch, his son Alexander, and his father-in-law Lennox, were triedthe next day, and many a deed of dark treason was laid to their charge. The Earl of Lennox had been the scourge of Scotland for more than halfthe eighty years of his life, but his extreme age might have excited somepity; Murdoch had erred rather negatively than positively; and Alexander, ruffian as he was, had been bred to nothing better. Each had deservedthe utmost penalty of the law again and again, and yet there did seemmore scope for mercy in their case than in that of Walter. But the King was inexorable. He set Malcolm aside as he had set others. 'I know what you would say, lad. Lennox is old, and Alexander is young, and Albany is a fool; and Walter has injured you, so you are bound tospeak for him. Take it all as said. But these are the men who have beenforemost in making our country a desert! Did I pardon them, with whatface could I ever make any man suffer for crime? And, in the state ofthis land, ruth to the guilty high would be treason to the sackless low. ' So Stirling saw the unprecedented sight of three generations sufferingfor their crimes upon the same scaffold--the white-haired Lennox, theDuke of Albany in the prime of life, Walter in the flush and strength ofearly manhood, Alexander in the bloom of youth. They all met their fateundauntedly; for if Murdoch's heart in any measure failed him, he wasafraid to give way in presence of the proud bold Walter, who maintainedan iron rigidity of demeanour with the wild fortitude of a Red Indian atthe stake, and in like manner could by no means comprehend that KingJames acted from any motive save malice, for having been so long kept outof his kingdom. 'It was his turn now, ' said poor Murdoch, even when mostdesirous of bringing himself to die in a state of Christian forgiveness;nor could any power on earth show any of the criminals that the Kingacted in the eternal interests of right and justice. Thus it was with the whole country; and when the four majestic-lookingmen stood bare-headed on the scaffold, in view even of their own fairtowers of Doune, and one by one bowed their heads on the block, perverseScottish nature broke out into pity for their fate, and wrath against theKing, who could thus turn against his own blood, and disgrace the royallineage. On that same day Malcolm received Esclairmonde's token, there being atpresent full peace with England, and set forth on her summons. He mether at Pontefract, where she was residing with the Dowager Queen Joan ofNavarre, Alice of Salisbury having been summoned to return to her husbandin France. There then it was that Malcolm and Esclairmonde, in presence of thechaplain, gave each other back the rings, and therewith their troth towed none other, and were once more declared free. Esclairmonde held out her hand to Malcolm, saying, 'The thanks I owe you, Sir, are beyond what tongue can tell. May He to Whom my first vows weredue requite it to you. ' And Malcolm, with his knee to the ground, pressing for the last time thatfair hand, said, 'The thanks, lady, are mine. Had you been one whitlower in aims or in constancy, what had I been? You were my light of theworld, but to light me to seek that higher Light that shone forth in you, and which may I show truly to the darkened spirits of my countrymen!Lady, you will permit me to take to myself the ring you have worn solong. It will be my token of my betrothal to that true Light. ' Such was their parting, when the one went forth to her tasks of charityamong the poor in London, the other to divest himself of land andlordship on behalf of his sister and her husband, and then to begin histask in the priesthood, of trying to hold up the true Light to heartsdarkened by many an age of crime and ignorance. Lived very happy ever after! Yes, we would fain always leave thecreatures with whom our thoughts have been busy in such felicity; butwhen we have linked them with real events, the sense of the veritablecourse of history reminds us that we cannot even suppose beings possiblein real life without endowing them with the common lot of humanity; andthe personages of our tale lived in a time of more than ordinary reverseand trouble. Yet Sir Patrick Drummond and Lilias his wife, the Lord and Lady ofGlenuskie, nearly did fulfil these conditions. They had not feelingsbeyond their age, but they were good specimens of that age, and they didtheir duty in it; he as a trustworthy noble, ready to aid in council orwar, and she as the beneficent dame, bringing piety and charity to healthe sufferings of her vassals and serfs. His hand was strong enough torepel the attacks of his foes; her intelligence, backed by Malcolm'scounsel, introduced improvements; and the little ravine of Glenuskie wasa happy valley of peace and prosperity for many years among theconvulsions of Scotland. Nor was Esclairmonde de Luxemburg's life in the Hospital of St. Katharineotherwise than the holy and beneficent career that she had always longedfor--worshipping in the fair church, and going forth from thence 'intothe streets and lanes of the city, ' to fulfil Queen Philippa's piousbehest, to seek out the suffering and the ignorant, and to tend andinstruct them. The tall form and beautiful countenance of Sister Clarewere loved and reverenced as those of an angel messenger among the highhouses and courts that closed in on the banks of the Thames; and whileLuxemburgs in France and Flanders intrigued and fought, plotted and fell, their kinswoman's days passed by in busy alms-deeds and ever loftierdevotion, till those who watched her steps felt that she was verily alight of the world, manifesting forth the true Light in many a darkplace. And her light of sympathy shone upon many an old friend both in joy andin grief. When the dissensions of Gloucester and Beaufort had summonedBedford to England to endeavour to appease their strife, his BurgundianDuchess sought out her early friend, and Esclairmonde saw her gentlecompanion, the Lady Anne, fulfilling her daily task of mediation, andliving a life, not indeed very sunshiny, but full of all that esteem andrespect could give her, and of calm gratitude and affection, althoughAnne, like all others, believed that John of Bedford's heart had beenburied in his brother's grave, and that of youthful love he had none togive. His whole soul was absorbed in his care for the welfare of thepale, gentle, dreamy, inanimate boy, who, from his very meekness anddocility, gave so little promise of representing the father whose name hebore. The loving Alice of Montagu, though the mother of many a bold boy andgirl, and busy with all the cares of the great Nevil household, regardedas the chief delight in a journey to court the sight of her dear SisterClare. It was to Sister Clare that Alice turned for comfort when herbrave old father died at the siege of Orleans; and it was while dailysoothing and ministering to her sorrow that Esclairmonde heard thestrange wild tales of the terrible witch maiden who had appeared onbehalf of the French, and turned whole English armies to flight, by powerthat the French declared to come from the saints, but which the Englishnever doubted to be infernal. Maimed and wounded soldiers, whomEsclairmonde relieved and tended as they returned from lost battles, gaveher fearful accounts of the panic that La Pucelle inspired. Even thehardy veteran, Sir John Fastolfe, had not been able to withstand herspells, but had fled from the field of Jergeau, where gallant Sir RalfPercy had died, in a vain attempt to gather the men to resist theirresistible maiden. His groom, who had succumbed for a time to woundsand weakness on his way home to Alnwick, was touched by the warmth andemotion with which the kind bedeswoman listened to his lamentation overthe good and loyal knight, whom she pictured to herself resisting theenchantress's dread power as dauntlessly as he had defied the phantoms ofthe Dance of Death. No whisper ever reached Esclairmonde that the terrible Pucelle was amaiden as pure and high-souled as herself. All that she heard more wasthat this terror of the English and Burgundians was taken, imprisoned fora time by her own Luxemburg kindred, and then carried to Rouen, where thekind Duchess Anne of Bedford did her best to persuade her to overcome thesuperstition that kept her in male garments, thus greatly tending toincrease the belief in her connection with the powers of evil. Frenchand Burgundian bishops, and even the University of Paris, were the judgesof the maiden; and the dastard prince she had crowned never stirred afinger nor uttered a protest in her behalf. Bedford, always disposed tobelief in witchcraft, acquiesced in the decision of Churchmen, which wastherefore called the judgment of the Church; but when he removed himselfand his duchess from Rouen, and left the conduct of the matter to thesterner and harder Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, it was with little thoughtthat after-generations would load his memory with the fate of Jeanned'Arc, as though her sufferings had proceeded from his individual malice. Esclairmonde never saw Bedford again, and only heard through Alice, nowCountess of Salisbury, how when good Duchess Anne was dead, and hergentle influence removed, Burgundy's disinclination to the English causewas no longer balanced; and how Bedford, perplexed, disheartened, brokenin health, but still earnest to propitiate friends for his helplessnephew, had listened to the wily whisper of the Bishop of Therouenne, that his niece, Jaquette, would secure the devotion of the Count de St. Pol, and that she was moreover like unto another Demoiselle de Luxemburg. How like, Esclairmonde could judge, when her kinswoman, widowed in hereighteenth year, at six months' end, came to London to claim her dower. Never, since her days of wandering and anxiety, had Esclairmonde feltsuch pain as when she perceived how little store the thoughtless girl hadset by the great and noble spirit that had been quenched under the loadof toil and care with which it had battled for thirteen long years. Faithful, great-hearted Bedford, striving to uphold a losing cause, toreconcile selfish contentions, to retain conquests that, though unjustlymade, he had no power to relinquish; and all without one trustworthyrelation, with friends and fellow-warriors dying, disputing, betraying, or deserting, his was as self-devoted and as mournful a career as everwas run by any prince at any age of the world; and while he slept in hisgrave at Rouen, that grave which even Louis XI. Respected, Esclairmonde, as, like a true bedeswoman of St. Katharine, she joined in the orisonsfor the repose of the souls of the royal kindred, never heard the name ofthe Lord John without a throb of prayer, and a throb too that warmed herheart with tenderness. It was some four years later, and the even tenor of Sister Clare's coursehad only been interrupted by her kinswoman, Jaquette, making her way toher to confess her marriage with Richard Wydville, and to entreat herintercession with the Luxemburg family; when one summer night she wascalled on to attend a pilgrim priest from the Holy Land, who had beenlanded from a Flemish vessel, and lay dangerously sick at the 'God'shouse, ' or hospital, by the river side. He was thought by his accent tobe foreign, and Sister Clare was always called on to wait upon thestranger. As she stood by his bedside, she beheld a man of middle age, but wastedwith sickness, and with a certain strange look of horror so imprinted onhis brow, that even as he lay asleep, though his mouth was grave andpeaceful, the lines were still there, and the locks that hung from aroundhis tonsure were of a whiteness that scarce accorded with the features. It was a face that Esclairmonde could not look at without waking strangememories; but it was not till the sleeper awakened, opened two dark eyes, gazed on her with dreamy doubtful wonder, and then clasped his hands withthe murmured thanksgiving, 'My God, hast Thou granted me this? Light ofmy life!' that she was assured to whom she was speaking. Malcolm Stewart it verily was. Canon Malcolm Stewart of Dunkeld was hisproper title, for he had, as she knew, long ceased to be Lord ofGlenuskie. It was not at first that she knew how he had been broughtwhere she now saw him; but after some few days of her tender care andskilful leechcraft, he somewhat rallied, and she gathered his historyfrom his conversation when he was able to speak. He had had a time of happy labour in Scotland, fully carrying out thedesigns with which he and his cousin James Kennedy had taken upon themthe ministry. Their own birth, and the appointments their King gavethem, so soon as their age permitted, made them able to exert aninfluence that told upon the rude and unenlightened clergy around. Ithad been almost a mission of conversion, to awaken a spirit ofChristianity in the country, that had so long been a prey to anarchy. TheKing's declaration, 'I will make the key keep the castle, and the bracken-bush keep the cow, though I live the life of a dog to bring it about, 'had been the moving spring of their lives. James had fought hour by hourwith the foul habits of lawlessness, savagery, and violence, that hadhitherto been absolutely unchecked; and while he strove with the sword ofjustice, the two young priests worked within the Word of truth, toimplant some sense of conscience in the neglected people. It had been a life of constant exertion, but full of hope andcheerfulness. Amid that rude country, James's own home was always abright spot of peace, sunshine, and refinement. With his beloved queen, and their fair little brood of children, the King cast aside his cares, and was all, and more than all, he had been as the ornament of Henry'sCourt. There all that was sweet, innocent, and beautiful was to befound; and there Malcolm, his royal kinsman's confidant, counsellor, andchaplain, was always welcome as one of the home circle and family, tillhe broke away from such delights to labour in his task of revivingreligion in the land. A little band of men were gathering round, clergyawakening from their sloth or worldliness, young nobles who began to seewhat chivalry meant, burghers who rejoiced in order; and hope andencouragement strengthened the hands of the three kinsmen. But, alas! there were those who deemed James's justice on the savageprince and noble mere sacrilege on high blood, and who absolutely hatedand loathed peace and order. Those thirteen years of cheerful progressended in that murder so unspeakably horrible in all its circumstances, which almost merits the name of a martyrdom to right and justice. Malcolmso shuddered when he did but touch on it, and was so rent with agitation, that Esclairmonde perceived that when his beloved King had perished, hehad indeed received the death-wound to his own fragile nature. He had been actually in the Abbey of Perth; and had been one of those wholifted the mangled corpse from the vault, and sought in vain for aremnant of life, if but to grant the absolution, for which the victim hadso piteously besought his murderers. No wonder that Fastern's E'en hadwhitened Malcolm's hair! But when the assassins were captured, and Joan of Beaufort was resolvedthat their death should be as atrocious as their crime, it was Malcolmwho strove to bend her to forgiveness. He bade her recollect King Henry, and how, when dealing with that cruel monster, the Castellane of Meaux, he had merely required death, without enhancing the agony; but Joan, inher rage and misery, had left the Englishwoman behind her, and wasimplacable. All that human cruelty could invent was to be the lot ofRobert Graham and his associates; and whereas they had granted no priestto their victim, none should be granted to them. And then it was that all Malcolm had learnt of the true spirit of theChristian triumphed--not only over the dark Keltic spirit of revenge, butover the shuddering of a tender and pitiful nature. Where no otherpriest durst venture, he went. Through all the frightful and protractedsufferings of Athol, Graham, Hall, and the rest, it was Malcolm Stewartwho, never flinching, prayed with and for them; gathered their agonizedsobs of confession, or strove to soften their hardness; spoke the wordsof absolution, and commended their departing souls. When he awoke from the long unconsciousness and delirium that ensued uponthe force he had put on himself, he found himself tended by his sister atGlenuskie. Patrick Drummond had transported him thither; finding thatthe angry Queen, in the madness of her vindictiveness, was well-nighdisposed to connect him with the treasonable designs of Athol and Graham. He slowly and partially recovered, but his influence was gone; the Queenwould not brook the sound of his name, the little king was beyond hisreach, James Kennedy was biding his time, and the country was returned toits state of misrule and violence, wherein an individual priest could dolittle: yet Malcolm would have held by his post, had not his health beenso utterly shattered that he was incapable of the work he had hithertodone, as a confessor and a preacher. And therefore, as the state of hisbeloved King, 'sent to his account unhouselled, disappointed, unannealed, ' hung heavy on his mind, he determined, so soon as he was inany degree convalescent, to set forth on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, theobject of so many dreams of King Henry; there to offer masses and prayersfor the welfare of his departed prince, as well as of the unhappymurderers, and for the country in its distracted condition. And there, at the Holy Sepulchre, had Malcolm, in the fervour of hisheart, offered the greatest treasure he possessed--nay, the only one thathe still really cared for--namely his betrothal ring, which Esclairmondehad worn for so long and had returned to him. As a priest, he had deemedthat it was not unlawful for him to retain the memorial of the link thathad bound him to her who had been the light that led him to the trueLight beyond; but as youth passed away, as devotion burned brighter, asthe experiences of those years became more dream-like, and the horror, grief, and misery of his King's death had been assuaged only by thesteadier contemplation of the Light of Eternity, he had felt that thislast pledge of his once lower aims and hopes ought to be resigned; andthat if it cost him a pang, it was well that it should be so, to renderthe offering a sacrifice. So the ring that had once been Esclairmonde'sprotection was laid on the altar of the Holy Tomb. There Malcolm had well-nigh died, under the influences of agitation, fatigue, and climate; but he had revived enough to set out on his returnfrom his pilgrimage, and had made his way tardily and wearily, losing hisattendants through death and desertion on the road; and passing from onereligious house to another, as his strength and nearly exhausted meansserved him. Unable to find any vessel bound for Leith, he had taken shipfor London; concealing his quality, lest, in the always probablecontingency of a war, it might lead to his being made prisoner; and thushe had arrived, sick indeed unto death, but peaceful, rejoicing, andhopeful. 'Sister, ' he said, 'the morn that I had offered my ring, I was feeble andfaint; and when I knelt on before the altar in continued prayer--I knownot whether I slept or whether it were a vision, but it was to me asthough I were again on the river, and again the hymn of Bernard ofMorlaix was sung around and above me, by the voice I never thought tohear again. I looked up, and behold it was I that was in the boat--myKing was there no more. Nay, he stood on the shore, and his eyes beamedon me; while the ghastly wounds that I once strove in anguish to staunchshone out like a ruby cross on his breast--the hands, that were so sorelygashed, were to me as though marked by the impress of the Sacred Wounds. He spake not; but by his side stood King Henry, beautiful andspirit-like, and smiled on me, and seemed as though he pointed to thewounds, as he said, "Blessed is the king who died by his people's hand, for withstanding his people's sin! Blessed is every faint image of thetrue King!" 'Then methought they held out their arms to me; and I would have come tothem on their shore of rest, but the river bore me away--and I looked up, to find I was as yet only in the earthly Jerusalem; but I watch for themevery hour, to call me once and for ever. ' FOOTNOTES {1} 'Hail, reverend brother. I come from Paris. ' {2} Student of the first year. {3} Manners are lacking to the Northerners. {4} Wretches. {5} For supper. {6} Telephus and Peleus, when both are poor and exiled, dismiss boastingand six-foot words. {7} It is dispersed in a cloud.