the caged lion-第5章

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his　teeth　and　clip　his　claws；　whereupon　he　found　himself　made　a　sport　for　her　father's　hounds。'

'I　promise　you；　Sir　Patrick；'　replied　the　guest；　'that　the　Lady　Joan　is　more　hike　to　send　her　Lion　forth　from　the　hunter's　toils；　with　claws　and　teeth　fresh…whetted　by　the　desire　of　honour。

'But　the　laythe　hay；　Sir；'　entreated　Lilias；　'who　knows　that　it　may　not　win　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　for　the　discouragement　thrown　on　his　gentle　tastes。

The　knight　leant　back；　with　a　pensive　look　softening　his　features　as　he　said；　after　a　little　consideration；　'Then；　fair　lady；　I　will　sing　you　the　song　made　by　King　James；　when　he　had　first　seen　the　fair　mistress　of　his　heart；　on　the　slopes　of　Windsor；　looking　from　his　chamber　window。　　He　feigns　her　to　be　a　nightingale。'

'And　what　is　that；　Sir？'　demanded　Lilias。　　'I　have　heard　the　word　in　romances；　and　deemed　it　a　kind　of　angel　that　sings　by　night。'

'It　is　a　bird；　sister；'　replied　Malcolm；　'Philomel；　that　pierces　her　breast　with　a　thorn；　and　sings　sweetly　even　to　her　death。'

'That's　mere　minstrel　leasing；　Malcolm；'　said　Patrick。　　'I　have　both　seen　and　heard　the　bird　in　FranceRossignol；　as　we　call　it　there；　and　were　I　a　lady；　I　should　deem　it　small　compliment　to　be　likened　to　a　little　russet…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　pains　me；　when　I　think　of　winning　my　freedom；　to　remember　that　I　shall　never　again　hear　their　songs　answering　one　another　through　the　forest　of　Windsor。'

Patrick　shrugged　his　shoulders；　but　Lilias　was　so　anxious　to　hear　the　lay；　that　she　entreated　him　to　be　silent；　and　Sir　James；　with　a　manly　mellow　voice；　with　an　exceedingly　sweet　strain　in　it；　and　a　skill；　both　of　modulation　and　finger；　such　as　showed　admirable　taste　and　instruction；　poured　forth　that　beautiful　song　of　the　nightingale　at　Windsor；　which　commences　King　James's　story　of　his　love；　in　his　poem　of　the　King's　Quhair。

There　was　an　eager　pressing　round　to　hear；　and　not　only　were　Lilias　and　Malcolm；　but　old　Sir　David　himself；　much　affected　by　the　strain；　which　the　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　the　present　state　of　affairs。　　Sir　James；　however；　seemed　anxious　to　prevent　discussion　of　the　verses　he　had　sung；　and　applied　to　Malcolm　to　give　a　specimen　of　his　powers：　　and　thus；　with　music；　ballad；　and　lay；　the　evening　passed　away；　till　the　parting　cup　was　sent　round；　and　the　Tutor　of　Glenuskie　and　Malcolm　marshalled　their　guest　to　the　apartment　where　he　was　to　sleep；　in　a　wainscoted　box　bedstead；　and　his　two　attendant　squires；　a　great　iron…gray　Scot　and　a　rosy　honest…faced　Englishman；　on　pallets　on　the　floor。

In　the　morning　he　went　on　his　journey；　but　not　without　an　invitation　to　rest　there　again　on　his　way　back；　whether　with　or　without　his　ransom。　　He　promised　to　come；　saying　that　he　should　gladly　bear　to　the　King　the　last　advices　from　one　so　honoured　as　the　Tutor　of　Glenuskie；　and；　on　their　sides；　Malcolm　and　Sir　David　resolved　to　do　their　best　to　have　some　gold　pieces　to　contribute；　rather　than　so　'proper　a　knight'　should　fail　in　raising　his　ransom；　but　gold　was　never　plenty；　and　Patrick　needed　all　that　his　uncle　could　supply；　to　bear　him　to　those　wars　in　France；　where　he　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　Albany　exercised　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　lawlessness　of　Murdoch's　sons。　　King　Robert　II。　had　left　Scotland　the　fearful　legacy　of；　as　Froissart　says；　'eleven　sons　who　loved　arms。'　Of　these；　Robert　III。　was　the　eldest；　the　Duke　of　Albany　the　second。　These　were　both　dead；　and　were　represented；　the　one　by　the　captive　young　King　James；　the　other　by　the　Regent；　Duke　Murdoch　of　Albany；　and　his　brother　John；　Earl　of　Buchan；　now　about　to　head　a　Scottish　force；　among　whom　Patrick　Drummond　intended　to　sail；　to　assist　the　French。

Others　of　the　eleven；　Earls　of　Athol；　Menteith；　&c。；　survived；　but　the　youngest　of　the　brotherhood；　by　name　Malcolm；　who　had　married　the　heiress　of　Glenuskie；　had　been　killed　at　Homildon　Hill；　when　he　had　solemnly　charged　his　Stewart　nephews　and　brothers　to　leave　his　two　orphan　children　to　the　sole　charge　of　their　mother's　cousin；　Sir　David　Drummond；　a　good　old　man；　who　had　been　the　best　supporter　and　confidant　of　poor　Robert　III。　in　his　unhappy　reign；　and　in　embassies　to　France　had　lost　much　of　the　rugged　barbarism　to　which　Scotland　had　retrograded　during　the　wars　with　England。



CHAPTER　II：　　THE　RESCUE　OF　COLDINGHAM



It　was　a　lonely　tract　of　road；　marked　only　by　the　bare　space　trodden　by　feet　of　man　and　horse；　and　yet；　in　truth；　the　highway　between　Berwick　and　Edinburgh；　which　descended　from　a　heathery　moorland　into　a　somewhat　spacious　valley；　with　copsewood　clothing　one　side；　in　the　midst　of　which　rose　a　high　mound　or　knoll；　probably　once　the　site　of　a　camp；　for　it　still　bore　lines　of　circumvallation；　although　it　was　entirely　deserted；　except　by　the　wandering　shepherds　of　the　neighbourhood；　or　occasionally　by　outlaws；　who　found　an　admirable　ambush　in　the　rear。

The　spring　had　hung　the　hazels　with　tassels；　bedecked　the　willows　with　golden　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　headlong　beyond　their　strength。　　Here；　however；　the　foremost　of　the　party；　an　old　esquire；　who　grasped　the　bridle…rein　of　youth　by　his　side；　drew　up　his　own　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　use　of　his　recovered　breath。

'Do　not　be　so　daft；　Lord　Malcolm；'　replied　the　Squire；　retaining　his　hold　on　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　passionate　weeping。　　'II　to　flee　and　leave　my　sistermy　uncle！　Oh；　where　are　they？　　Halbert；　let　me　go；　I'll　never　pardon　thee。'

'Hoot；　my　lord！　would　I　let　you　gang；　when　the　Tutor　spak　to　me　as　plain　as　I　hear　you　now？　　〃Take　off　Lord　Malcolm；〃　says　he；　〃save　him；　and　you　save　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　be　doing　to　her？　　Let　us　go　back　and　fall　on　them；　Halbert；　better　die　saving　her　than　know　her　in　Walter　Stewart's　hands。　　Then　were　I　the　wretched　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　as　you　are　out　of　the　Master　of　Albany's　reach。　　Had　you　come　by　a　canny　thrust　in　the　fray；　as　no　doubt　was　his　purpose；　or　were　you　in　his　hands　to　be　mewed　in　a　convent；　then　were　your　sister　worth　the　wedding；　but　the　Master　will　never　wed　her　while　you　live　and　have　friends　to　back　you；　and　his　father；　the　Regent；　will　see　she　has　no　ill…usage。　　You'll　do　best　for　yourself　and　her　too；　as　well　as　Sir　David；　if　you　make　for　Dunbar；　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　knight　in　blue　damasked　steel：　　he；　methinks；　that　harboured　in　our　castle　some　weeks　syne。'

'Hm！'　said　Halbert；　considering；　'he　looked　like　a　trusty　cheild：　maybe　he'd　guide　my　lord　here　to　a　wiser　wit；　and　a　good　lance　on　the　way　to　Dunbar　is　not　to　be　scorned。'

In　fact