CHAPTER XXVII
THE YOUNG LORDS RIDE AWAY
This was the letter which, along with the Chancellor's invitations,came to the hand of the Earl William as he rode forth to thedeer-hunting one morning from his Castle of Thrieve:
"My lord, if it be not that you have wholly forgotten me and yourpromise, this comes to inform you that my uncle and I purpose to abideat the Castle of Crichton for ten days before finally departing forthof this land. It is known to me that the Chancellor, moved thereto byOne who desires much to see you, hath invited the Earl of Douglas tocome thither with what retinue is best beseeming so great a lord.
"But 'tis beyond hope that we should meet in this manner. My lordhath, doubtless, ere this forgot all that was between us, and hathalready seen others fairer and more worthy of his courteous regardthan the Lady Sybilla. This is as well beseems a mighty lord, whotaketh up a cup full and setteth it down empty. But a woman hathnaught to do, save only to remember the things that have been, and tothink upon them. Grace be to you, my dear lord. And so for this timeand it may be for ever, fare you well!"
When the Earl had read this letter from the Lady Sybilla, he turnedhimself in his saddle without delay and said to his hunt-master:
"Take back the hounds, we will not hunt the stag this day."
The messenger stood respectfully before him waiting to take back ananswer.
"Come you from the town of Edinburgh?" asked the Earl, quickly.
"Nay," said the youth, "let it please your greatness, I am a servantof my Lord of Crichton, and come from his new castle in the Lothians."
"Doth the Chancellor abide there at this present?" asked the Earl.
"He came two noons ago with but one attendant, and bade us make readyfor a great company who were to arrive there this very day. Then hegave me these two letters and set my head on the safe delivery ofthem."
"Sholto," cried the young lord, "summon the guard and men-at-arms.Take all that can be spared from the defence of the castle and makeready to follow me. I ride immediately to visit the Chancellor ofScotland at his castle in the Lothians."
It was Sholto's duty to obey, but his heart sank within him, both atthe thought of the Earl thus venturing among his enemies, and alsobecause he must needs leave behind him Maud Lindesay, on whose wilfuland wayward beauty his heart was set.
"My lord," he stammered, "permit me one word. Were it not better towait till a following of knights and gentlemen beseeming the Earl ofDouglas should be brought together to accompany you on so perilous ajourney?"
"Do as I bid you, Sir Captain," was the Earl's short rejoinder; "youhave my orders."
"O that the Abbot were here--" thought Sholto, as he moved heavily todo his master's will; "he might reason with the Earl with some hope ofsuccess."
On his way to summon the guard Sholto met Maud Lindesay going out totwine gowans with the Maid on the meadows about the Mains of Kelton.For, as Margaret Douglas complained, "All ours on the isle weretrodden down by the men who came to the tourney, and they have notgrown up again."
"Whither away so gloomy, Sir Knight?" cried Maud, all her winsome facealight with pleasure in the bright day, and because of the excellentjoy of living.
"On a most gloomy errand, indeed," said Sholto. "My lord rides with asmall company into the very stronghold of his enemy, and will hear noword from any!"
"And do you go with him?" cried Maud, her bright colour leaving herface.
"Not only I, but all that can be spared of the men-at-arms and of thearcher guard," answered Sholto.
Maud Lindesay turned about and took the little girl's hand.
"Margaret," she said, "let us go to my lady. Perhaps she will be ableto keep my Lord William at home."
So they went back to the chamber of my Lady of Douglas. Now theCountess had never been of great influence with her son, even duringher husband's lifetime, and had certainly none with him since. Stillit was possible that William Douglas might, for a time at least,listen to advice and delay his setting out till a suitable retinuecould be brought together to protect him. Maud and Margaret found theLady of Douglas busily embroidering a vestment of silk and gold forthe Abbot of Sweetheart. She laid aside her work and listened withgentle patience to the hasty tale told by Maud Lindesay.
"I will speak with William," she answered, with a certain hopelessnessin her voice, "but I know well he will go his own gait for aught thathis mother can say. He is his father's son, and the men of the houseof Douglas, they come and they go, recking no will but their own. Andeven so will my son William."
"But he is taking David with him also!" cried Margaret. "I met himeven now on the stair, wild in haste to put on his shirt of mail andthe sword with the golden hilt which the ambassador of France gavehim."
A quick flush coloured the pale countenance of the Lady Countess.
"Nay, but one is surely enough to meet the Chancellor. David shall notgo. He is but a lad and knows nothing of these things."
For this boy was ever his mother's favourite, far more than either herelder son or her little daughter, whom indeed she left entirely to thecare and companionship of Maud Lindesay.
My Lady of Douglas went slowly downstairs. The Earl, with Sholto byhis side, was ordering the accoutrement of the mounted men-at-arms inthe courtyard.
"William," she called, in a soft voice which would not have reachedhim, busied as he was with his work, but that little Margaret raisedher childish treble and called out: "William, our mother desires tospeak with you. Do you not hear her?"
The Earl turned about, and, seeing his mother, came quickly to her andstood bareheaded before her.
"You are not going to run into danger, William?" she said, stillsoftly.
"Nay, mother mine," he answered, smiling, "do not fear, I do but rideto visit the Chancellor Crichton in his castle, and also to bidfarewell to the French ambassador, who abode here as our guest."
A sudden light shone in upon the mind of Maud Lindesay.
"'Tis all that French minx!" she whispered in Sholto's ear, "she hathbewitched him. No one need try to stop him now."
His mother went on, with an added anxiety in her voice.
"But you will not take my little David with you? You will leave me oneson here to comfort me in my loneliness and old age?"
The Earl seemed about to yield, being, indeed, careless whether Davidwent with him or no.
"Mother," cried David, coming running forth from the castle, "you mustnot persuade William to make me stay at home. I shall never be a manif I am kept among women. There is Sholto MacKim, he is little olderthan I, and already he hath won the archery prize and the sword-play,and hath fought in a tourney and been knighted--while I have donenothing except pull gowans with Maud Lindesay and play chuckie stoneswith Margaret there."
And at that moment Sholto wished that this fate had been his, and thehonours David's. He told himself that he would willingly have given uphis very knighthood that he might abide near that dainty form andwitching face. He tortured himself with the thought that Maud wouldlisten to others as she had listened to him; that she would practiseon others that heart-breaking slow droop and quick uplift of theeyelashes which he knew so well. Who might not be at hand to aid herto blow out her lamp when the guards were set of new in the corridorsof Thrieve?
"Mother," the Earl answered, "David speaks good sense. He will nevermake a man or a Douglas if he is to bide here within this warded isle.He must venture forth into the world of men and women, and taste aman's pleasures and chance a man's dangers like the rest."
"But are you certain that you will bring him safe back again to me?"said his mother, wistfully. "Remember, he is so young and eke soreckless."
"Nay," cried David, eagerly, "I am no younger than my cousin James waswhen he fought the strongest man in Scotland, and I warrant I couldride a course as well as Hughie Douglas of Avondale, though Williamchose him for the tourney and left me to bite my thumbs at home."
The lady sighed and looked at her sons, one of them but a yout
h andthe other no more than a boy.
"Was there ever a Douglas yet who would take any advice but from hisown desire?" she said, looking down at them like a douce barn-door fowlwho by chance has reared a pair of eaglets. "Lads, ye are over strongfor your mother. But I will not sleep nor eat aright till I have myDavid back again, and can see him riding his horse homeward throughthe ford."