"My liege," he said, "must of course know it is Douglas who must
answer to this heavy charge, for when was there strife or bloodshed
in Scotland, but there were foul tongues to asperse a Douglas or
a Douglas's man as having given cause to them? We have here goodly
witnesses. I speak not of my Lord of Albany, who has only said
that he was, as well becomes him, by your Grace's side. And I say
nothing of my Lord of Rothsay, who, as befits his rank, years,
and understanding, was cracking nuts with a strolling musician.
He smiles. Here he may say his pleasure; I shall not forget a tie
which he seems to have forgotten. But here is my Lord of March,
who saw my followers flying before the clowns of Perth. I can tell
that earl that the followers of the Bloody Heart advance or retreat
when their chieftain commands and the good of Scotland requires."

"And I can answer--" exclaimed the equally proud Earl of March,
his blood rushing into his face, when the King interrupted him.

"Peace! angry lords," said the King, "and remember in whose presence
you stand. And you, my Lord of Douglas, tell us, if you can, the
cause of this mutiny, and why your followers, whose general good
services we are most willing to acknowledge, were thus active in
private brawl."

"I obey, my lord," said Douglas, slightly stooping a head that seldom
bent. "I was passing from my lodgings in the Carthusian convent,
through the High Street of Perth, with a few of my ordinary retinue,
when I beheld some of the baser sort of citizens crowding around
the Cross, against which there was nailed this placard, and that
which accompanies it."

He took from a pocket in the bosom of his buff coat a human hand
and a piece of parchment. The King was shocked and agitated.

"Read," he said, "good father prior, and let that ghastly spectacle
be removed."

The prior read a placard to the following purpose:

"Inasmuch as the house of a citizen of Perth was assaulted last
night, being St. Valentine's Eve, by a sort of disorderly night
walkers, belonging to some company of the strangers now resident
in the Fair City; and whereas this hand was struck from one of the
lawless limmers in the fray that ensued, the provost and magistrates
have directed that it should be nailed to the Cross, in scorn and
contempt of those by whom such brawl was occasioned. And if any
one of knightly degree shall say that this our act is wrongfully
done, I, Patrick Charteris of Kinfauns, knight, will justify this
cartel in knightly weapons, within the barrace; or, if any one of
meaner birth shall deny what is here said, he shall be met with by
a citizen of the Fair City of Perth, according to his degree. And
so God and St. John protect the Fair City!"

"You will not wonder, my lord," resumed Douglas, "that, when
my almoner had read to me the contents of so insolent a scroll, I
caused one of my squires to pluck down a trophy so disgraceful to
the chivalry and nobility of Scotland. Where upon, it seems some of
these saucy burghers took license to hoot and insult the hindmost
of my train, who wheeled their horses on them, and would soon have
settled the feud, but for my positive command that they should follow
me in as much peace as the rascally vulgar would permit. And thus
they arrived here in the guise of flying men, when, with my command
to repel force by force, they might have set fire to the four
corners of this wretched borough, and stifled the insolent churls,
like malicious fox cubs in a burning brake of furze."

There was a silence when Douglas had done speaking, until the Duke
of Rothsay answered, addressing his father:

"Since the Earl of Douglas possesses the power of burning the town
where your Grace holds your court, so soon as the provost and he
differ about a night riot, or the terms of a cartel, I am sure we
ought all to be thankful that he has not the will to do so."

"The Duke of Rothsay," said Douglas, who seemed resolved to maintain
command of his temper, "may have reason to thank Heaven in a more
serious tone than he now uses that the Douglas is as true as he is
powerful. This is a time when the subjects in all countries rise
against the law: we have heard of the insurgents of the Jacquerie
in France; and of Jack Straw, and Hob Miller, and Parson Ball, among
the Southron; and we may be sure there is fuel enough to catch such
a flame, were it spreading to our frontiers. When I see peasants
challenging noblemen, and nailing the hands of the gentry to their
city cross, I will not say I fear mutiny--for that would be false
--but I foresee, and will stand well prepared for, it."

"And why does my Lord Douglas say," answered the Earl of March, "that
this cartel has been done by churls? I see Sir Patrick Charteris's
name there, and he, I ween, is of no churl's blood. The Douglas
himself, since he takes the matter so warmly, might lift Sir
Patrick's gauntlet without soiling of his honour."

"My Lord of March," replied Douglas, "should speak but of what he
understands. I do no injustice to the descendant of the Red Rover,
when I say he is too slight to be weighed with the Douglas. The
heir of Thomas Randolph might have a better claim to his answer."

"And, by my honour, it shall not miss for want of my asking the
grace," said the Earl of March, pulling his glove off.

"Stay, my lord," said the King. "Do us not so gross an injury as
to bring your feud to mortal defiance here; but rather offer your
ungloved hand in kindness to the noble earl, and embrace in token
of your mutual fealty to the crown of Scotland."

"Not so, my liege," answered March; "your Majesty may command me
to return my gauntlet, for that and all the armour it belongs to
are at your command, while I continue to hold my earldom of the
crown of Scotland; but when I clasp Douglas, it must be with a mailed
hand. Farewell, my liege. My counsels here avail not, nay, are so
unfavourably received, that perhaps farther stay were unwholesome
for my safety. May God keep your Highness from open enemies and
treacherous friends! I am for my castle of Dunbar, from whence I
think you will soon hear news. Farewell to you, my Lords of Albany
and Douglas; you are playing a high game, look you play it fairly.
Farewell, poor thoughtless prince, who art sporting like a fawn
within spring of a tiger! Farewell, all--George of Dunbar sees
the evil he cannot remedy. Adieu, all."

The King would have spoken, but the accents died on his tongue, as
he received from Albany a look cautioning him to forbear. The Earl
of March left the apartment, receiving the mute salutations of the
members of the council whom he had severally addressed, excepting
from Douglas alone, who returned to his farewell speech a glance
of contemptuous defiance.

"The recreant goes to betray us to the Southron," he said; "his
pride rests on his possessing that sea worn hold which can admit
the English into Lothian [the castle of Dunbar]. Nay, look not
alarmed, my liege, I will hold good what I say. Nevertheless, it
is yet time. Speak but the word, my liege--say but 'Arrest him,'
and March shall not yet cross the Earn on his traitorous journey."

"Nay, gallant earl," said Albany, who wished rather that the two
powerful lords should counterbalance each other than that one should
obtain a decisive superiority, "that were too hasty counsel. The
Earl of March came hither on the King's warrant of safe conduct,
and it may not consist with my royal brother's honour to break it.
Yet, if your lordship can bring any detailed proof--"

Here they were interrupted by a flourish of trumpets.

"His Grace of Albany is unwontedly scrupulous today," said Douglas;
"but it skills not wasting words--the time is past--these are
March's trumpets, and I warrant me he rides at flight speed so soon
as he passes the South Port. We shall hear of him in time; and if
it be as I have conjectured, he shall be met with though all England
backed his treachery."

"Nay, let us hope better of the noble earl," said the King, no way
displeased that the quarrel betwixt March and Douglas had seemed
to obliterate the traces of the disagreement betwixt Rothsay and
his father in law; "he hath a fiery, but not a sullen, temper. In
some things he has been--I will not say wronged, but disappointed
--and something is to be allowed to the resentment of high blood
armed with great power. But thank Heaven, all of us who remain are
of one sentiment, and, I may say, of one house; so that, at least,
our councils cannot now be thwarted with disunion. Father prior,
I pray you take your writing materials, for you must as usual be
our clerk of council. And now to business, my lords; and our first
object of consideration must be this Highland cumber."

"Between the Clan Chattan and the Clan Quhele," said the prior,
"which, as our last advices from our brethren at Dunkeld inform
us, is ready to break out into a more formidable warfare than has
yet taken place between these sons of Belial, who speak of nothing
else than of utterly destroying one another. Their forces are
assembling on each side, and not a man claiming in the tenth degree
of kindred but must repair to the brattach of his tribe, or stand
to the punishment of fire and sword. The fiery cross hath flitted
about like a meteor in every direction, and awakened strange and
unknown tribes beyond the distant Moray Firth--may Heaven and
St. Dominic be our protection! But if your lordships cannot find
remedy for evil, it will spread broad and wide, and the patrimony
of the church must in every direction be exposed to the fury of
these Amalekites, with whom there is as little devotion to Heaven
as there is pity or love to their neighbour--may Our Lady be our
guard! We hear some of them are yet utter heathens, and worship
Mahound and Termagaunt."

"My lords and kinsmen," said Robert, "ye have heard the urgency of
this case, and may desire to know my sentiments before you deliver
what your own wisdom shall suggest. And, in sooth, no better remedy
occurs to me than to send two commissioners, with full power from
us to settle such debates as be among them, and at the same time to
charge them, as they shall be answerable to the law, to lay down
their arms, and forbear all practices of violence against each
other."

"I approve of your Grace's proposal," said Rothsay; "and I trust
the good prior will not refuse the venerable station of envoy upon
this peacemaking errand. And his reverend brother, the abbot of the
Carthusian convent, must contend for an honour which will certainly
add two most eminent recruits to the large army of martyrs, since
the Highlanders little regard the distinction betwixt clerk and
layman in the ambassadors whom you send to them."

"My royal Lord of Rothsay," said the prior, "if I am destined to the
blessed crown of martyrdom, I shall be doubtless directed to the
path by which I am to attain it. Meantime, if you speak in jest,
may Heaven pardon you, and give you light to perceive that it were
better buckle on your arms to guard the possessions of the church,
so perilously endangered, than to employ your wit in taunting her
ministers and servants."

"I taunt no one, father prior," said the youth, yawning; "Nor have
I much objection to taking arms, excepting that they are a somewhat
cumbrous garb, and in February a furred mantle is more suiting to
the weather than a steel corselet. And it irks me the more to put
on cold harness in this nipping weather, that, would but the church
send a detachment of their saints--and they have some Highland
ones well known in this district, and doubtless used to the climate
--they might fight their own battles, like merry St. George of
England. But I know not how it is, we hear of their miracles when
they are propitiated, and of their vengeance if any one trespasses
on their patrimonies, and these are urged as reasons for extending
their lands by large largesses; and yet, if there come down but a
band of twenty Highlanders, bell, book, and candle make no speed,
and the belted baron must be fain to maintain the church in possession
of the lands which he has given to her, as much as if he himself
still enjoyed the fruits of them."

"Son David," said the King, "you give an undue license to your
tongue."

"Nay, Sir, I am mute," replied the Prince. "I had no purpose to
disturb your Highness, or displease the father prior, who, with
so many miracles at his disposal, will not face, as it seems, a
handful of Highland caterans."

"We know," said the prior, with suppressed indignation, "from what
source these vile doctrines are derived, which we hear with horror
from the tongue that now utters them. When princes converse with
heretics, their minds and manners are alike corrupted. They show
themselves in the streets as the companions of maskers and harlots,
and in the council as the scorners of the church and of holy things."

"Peace, good father!" said the King. "Rothsay shall make amends
for what he has idly spoken. Alas! let us take counsel in friendly
fashion, rather than resemble a mutinous crew of mariners in a
sinking vessel, when each is more intent on quarrelling with his
neighbours than in assisting the exertions of the forlorn master
for the safety of the ship. My Lord of Douglas, your house has
been seldom to lack when the crown of Scotland desired either wise
counsel or manly achievement; I trust you will help us in this
strait."

"I can only wonder that the strait should exist, my lord," answered
the haughty Douglas. "When I was entrusted with the lieutenancy
of the kingdom, there were some of these wild clans came down from
the Grampians. I troubled not the council about the matter, but
made the sheriff, Lord Ruthven, get to horse with the forces of the
Carse--the Hays, the Lindsays, the Ogilvies, and other gentlemen.
By St. Bride! When it was steel coat to frieze mantle, the thieves
knew what lances were good for, and whether swords had edges or no.
There were some three hundred of their best bonnets, besides that
of their chief, Donald Cormac, left on the moor of Thorn and in
Rochinroy Wood; and as many were gibbeted at Houghmanstares, which
has still the name from the hangman work that was done there. This
is the way men deal with thieves in my country; and if gentler
methods will succeed better with these Earish knaves, do not blame
Douglas for speaking his mind. You smile, my Lord of Rothsay. May
I ask how I have a second time become your jest, before I have
replied to the first which you passed on me?"

"Nay, be not wrathful, my good Lord of Douglas," answered the
Prince; "I did but smile to think how your princely retinue would
dwindle if every thief were dealt with as the poor Highlanders at
Houghmanstares."

The King again interfered, to prevent the Earl from giving an angry
reply.

"Your lordship," said he to Douglas, "advises wisely that we should
trust to arms when these men come out against our subjects on the
fair and level plan; but the difficulty is to put a stop to their
disorders while they continue to lurk within their mountains.
I need not tell you that the Clan Chattan and the Clan Quhele are
great confederacies, consisting each of various tribes, who are
banded together, each to support their own separate league, and who
of late have had dissensions which have drawn blood wherever they
have met, whether individually or in bands. The whole country is
torn to pieces by their restless feuds."

"I cannot see the evil of this," said the Douglas: "the ruffians
will destroy each other, and the deer of the Highlands will increase
as the men diminish. We shall gain as hunters the exercise we lose
as warriors."

"Rather say that the wolves will increase as the men diminish,"
replied the King.

"I am content," said Douglas: "better wild wolves than wild caterans.
Let there be strong forces maintained along the Earish frontier,
to separate the quiet from the disturbed country. Confine the fire
of civil war within the Highlands; let it spend its uncontrolled
fury, and it will be soon burnt out for want of fuel. The survivors
will be humbled, and will be more obedient to a whisper of your
Grace's pleasure than their fathers, or the knaves that now exist,
have, been to your strictest commands."

"This is wise but ungodly counsel," said the prior, shaking his
head; "I cannot take it upon my conscience to recommend it. It
is wisdom, but it is the wisdom of Achitophel, crafty at once and
cruel."

"My heart tells me so," said the King, laying his hand on his
breast--"my heart tells me that it will be asked of me at the
awful day, 'Robert Stuart, where are the subjects I have given
thee?' It tells me that I must account for them all, Saxon and Gael,
Lowland, Highland, and Border man; that I will not be required to
answer for those alone who have wealth and knowledge, but for those
also who were robbers because they were poor, and rebels because
they were ignorant."

"Your Highness speaks like a Christian king," said the prior; "but
you bear the sword as well as the sceptre, and this present evil
is of a kind which the sword must cure."

"Hark ye, my lords," said the Prince, looking up as if a gay thought
had suddenly struck him. "Suppose we teach these savage mountaineers
a strain of chivalry? It were no hard matter to bring these two
great commanders, the captain of the Clan Chattan and the chief
of the no less doughty race of the Clan Quhele, to defy each other
to mortal combat. They might fight here in Perth--we would lend
them horse and armour; thus their feud would be stanched by the
death of one, or probably both, of the villains, for I think both
would break their necks in the first charge; my father's godly
desire of saving blood would be attained; and we should have the
pleasure of seeing such a combat between two savage knights, for the
first time in their lives wearing breeches and mounted on horses,
as has not been heard of since the days of King Arthur."

"Shame upon you, David!" said the King. "Do you make the distress
of your native country, and the perplexity of our councils, a
subject for buffoonery?"

"If you will pardon me, royal brother," said Albany, "I think that,
though my princely nephew hath started this thought in a jocular
manner, there may be something wrought out of it, which might
greatly remedy this pressing evil."

"Good brother," replied the King, "it is unkind to expose Rothsay's
folly by pressing further his ill timed jest. We know the Highland
clans have not our customs of chivalry, nor the habit or mode of
doing battle which these require."

"True, your Grace," answered Albany; "yet I speak not in scorn,
but in serious earnest. True, the mountaineers have not our forms
and mode of doing battle in the lists, but they have those which
are as effectual to the destruction of human life, and so that the
mortal game is played, and the stake won and lost, what signifies
it whether these Gael fight with sword and lance, as becomes belted
knights, or with sandbags, like the crestless churls of England, or
butcher each other with knives and skenes, in their own barbarous
fashion? Their habits, like our own, refer all disputed rights and
claims to the decision of battle. They are as vain, too, as they
are fierce; and the idea that these two clans would be admitted
to combat in presence of your Grace and of your court will readily
induce them to refer their difference to the fate of battle, even
were such rough arbitrement less familiar to their customs, and
that in any such numbers as shall be thought most convenient. We
must take care that they approach not the court, save in such a
fashion and number that they shall not be able to surprise us; and
that point being provided against, the more that shall be admitted
to combat upon either side, the greater will be the slaughter among
their bravest and most stirring men, and the more the chance of
the Highlands being quiet for some time to come."

"This were a bloody policy, brother," said the King; "and again I
say, that I cannot bring my conscience to countenance the slaughter
of these rude men, that are so little better than so many benighted
heathens."

"And are their lives more precious," asked Albany, "than those of
nobles and gentlemen who by your Grace's license are so frequently
admitted to fight in barrace, either for the satisfying of disputes
at law or simply to acquire honour?"

The King, thus hard pressed, had little to say against a custom so
engrafted upon the laws of the realm and the usages of chivalry as
the trial by combat; and he only replied: "God knows, I have never
granted such license as you urge me with unless with the greatest
repugnance; and that I never saw men have strife together to the
effusion of blood, but I could have wished to appease it with the
shedding of my own."

"But, my gracious lord," said the prior, "it seems that, if we
follow not some such policy as this of my Lord of Albany, we must
have recourse to that of the Douglas; and, at the risk of the dubious
event of battle, and with the certainty of losing many excellent
subjects, do, by means of the Lowland swords, that which these wild
mountaineers will otherwise perform with their own hand. What says
my Lord of Douglas to the policy of his Grace of Albany?"

"Douglas," said the haughty lord, "never counselled that to be done
by policy which might be attained by open force. He remains by his
opinion, and is willing to march at the head of his own followers,
with those of the barons of Perth shire and the Carse, and either
bring these Highlanders to reason or subjection, or leave the body
of a Douglas among their savage wildernesses."

"It is nobly spoken, my Lord of Douglas," said Albany; "and
well might the King rely upon thy undaunted heart and the courage
of thy resolute followers. But see you not how soon you may be
called elsewhere, where your presence and services are altogether
indispensable to Scotland and her monarch? Marked you not the gloomy
tone in which the fiery March limited his allegiance and faith to
our sovereign here present to that space for which he was to remain
King Robert's vassal? And did not you yourself suspect that he was
plotting a transference of his allegiance to England? Other chiefs,
of subordinate power and inferior fame, may do battle with the
Highlanders; but if Dunbar admit the Percies and their Englishmen
into our frontiers, who will drive them back if the Douglas be
elsewhere?"

"My sword," answered Douglas, "is equally at the service of his
Majesty on the frontier or in the deepest recesses of the Highlands.
I have seen the backs of the proud Percy and George of Dunbar ere
now, and I may see them again. And, if it is the King's pleasure I
should take measures against this probable conjunction of stranger
and traitor, I admit that, rather than trust to an inferior or
feebler hand the important task of settling the Highlands, I would
be disposed to give my opinion in favour of the policy of my Lord
of Albany, and suffer those savages to carve each other's limbs,
without giving barons and knights the trouble of hunting them down."

"My Lord of Douglas," said the Prince, who seemed determined to
omit no opportunity to gall his haughty father in law, "does not
choose to leave to us Lowlanders even the poor crumbs of honour
which might be gathered at the expense of the Highland kerne, while
he, with his Border chivalry, reaps the full harvest of victory over
the English. But Percy hath seen men's backs as well as Douglas;
and I have known as great wonders as that he who goes forth to seek
such wool should come back shorn."

"A phrase," said Douglas, "well becoming a prince who speaks of
honour with a wandering harlot's scrip in his bonnet, by way of
favor."

"Excuse it, my lord," said Rothsay: "men who have matched unfittingly
become careless in the choice of those whom they love par amours.
The chained dog must snatch at the nearest bone."

"Rothsay, my unhappy son!" exclaimed the King, "art thou mad? or
wouldst thou draw down on thee the full storm of a king and father's
displeasure?"

"I am dumb," returned the Prince, "at your Grace's command."

"Well, then, my Lord of Albany," said the King, "since such is
your advice, and since Scottish blood must flow, how, I pray you,
are we to prevail on these fierce men to refer their quarrel to
such a combat as you propose?"

"That, my liege," said Albany, "must be the result of more mature
deliberation. But the task will not be difficult. Gold will be
needful to bribe some of the bards and principal counsellors and
spokesmen. The chiefs, moreover, of both these leagues must be made
to understand that, unless they agree to this amicable settlement
--"

"Amicable, brother!" said the King, with emphasis.

"Ay, amicable, my liege," replied his brother, "since it is better
the country were placed in peace, at the expense of losing a score
or two of Highland kernes, than remain at war till as many thousands
are destroyed by sword, fire, famine, and all the extremities of
mountain battle. To return to the purpose: I think that the first
party to whom the accommodation is proposed will snatch at it
eagerly; that the other will be ashamed to reject an offer to rest
the cause on the swords of their bravest men; that the national
vanity, and factious hate to each other, will prevent them from
seeing our purpose in adopting such a rule of decision; and that
they will be more eager to cut each other to pieces than we can be
to halloo them on. And now, as our counsels are finished, so far
as I can aid, I will withdraw."

"Stay yet a moment," said the prior, "for I also have a grief
to disclose, of a nature so black and horrible, that your Grace's
pious heart will hardly credit its existence, and I state it
mournfully, because, as certain as that I am an unworthy servant of
St. Dominic, it is the cause of the displeasure of Heaven against
this poor country, by which our victories are turned into defeat,
our gladness into mourning, our councils distracted with disunion,
and our country devoured by civil war."

"Speak, reverend prior," said the King; "assuredly, if the cause
of such evils be in me or in my house, I will take instant care to
their removal."

He uttered these words with a faltering voice, and eagerly waited
for the prior's reply, in the dread, no doubt, that it might implicate
Rothsay in some new charge of folly or vice. His apprehensions
perhaps deceived him, when he thought he saw the churchman's eye
rest for a moment on the Prince, before he said, in a solemn tone,
"Heresy, my noble and gracious liege--heresy is among us. She
snatches soul after soul from the congregation, as wolves steal
lambs from the sheep fold."

"There are enough of shepherds to watch the fold," answered the Duke
of Rothsay. "Here are four convents of regular monks alone around
this poor hamlet of Perth, and all the secular clergy besides.
Methinks a town so well garrisoned should be fit to keep out an
enemy."

"One traitor in a garrison, my lord," answered the prior, "can do
much to destroy the security of a city which is guarded by legions;
and if that one traitor is, either from levity, or love of novelty,
or whatever other motive, protected and fostered by those who should
be most eager to expel him from the fortress, his opportunities of
working mischief will be incalculably increased."

"Your words seem to aim at some one in this presence, father
prior," said the Douglas; "if at me, they do me foul wrong. I am
well aware that the abbot of Aberbrothock hath made some ill advised
complaints, that I suffered not his beeves to become too many for
his pastures, or his stock of grain to burst the girnels of the
monastery, while my followers lacked beef and their horses corn.
But bethink you, the pastures and cornfields which produced that
plenty were bestowed by my ancestors on the house of Aberbrothock,
surely not with the purpose that their descendant should starve in
the midst of it; and neither will he, by St. Bride! But for heresy
and false doctrine," he added, striking his large hand heavily on
the council table, "who is it that dare tax the Douglas? I would
not have poor men burned for silly thoughts; but my hand and sword
are ever ready to maintain the Christian faith."

"My lord, I doubt it not," said the prior; "so hath it ever been
with your most noble house. For the abbot's complaints, they may
pass to a second day. But what we now desire is a commission to some
noble lord of state, joined to others of Holy Church, to support
by strength of hand, if necessary, the inquiries which the reverend
official of the bounds, and other grave prelates, my unworthy self
being one, are about to make into the cause of the new doctrines,
which are now deluding the simple, and depraving the pure and precious
faith, approved by the Holy Father and his reverend predecessors."

"Let the Earl of Douglas have a royal commission to this effect,"
said Albany; "and let there be no exception whatever from his
jurisdiction, saving the royal person. For my own part, although
conscious that I have neither in act nor thought received or
encouraged a doctrine which Holy Church hath not sanctioned, yet I
should blush to claim an immunity under the blood royal of Scotland,
lest I should seem to be seeking refuge against a crime so horrible."

"I will have nought to do with it," said Douglas: "to march against
the English, and the Southron traitor March, is task enough for
me. Moreover, I am a true Scotsman, and will not give way to aught
that may put the Church of Scotland's head farther into the Roman
yoke, or make the baron's coronet stoop to the mitre and cowl. Do
you, therefore, most noble Duke of Albany, place your own name in
the commission; and I pray your Grace so to mitigate the zeal of
the men of Holy Church who may be associated with you, that there
be no over zealous dealings; for the smell of a fagot on the Tay
would bring back the Douglas from the walls of York."

The Duke hastened to give the Earl assurance that the commission
should be exercised with lenity and moderation.

"Without a question," said King Robert, "the commission must be
ample; and did it consist with the dignity of our crown, we would
not ourselves decline its jurisdiction. But we trust that, while
the thunders of the church are directed against the vile authors
of these detestable heresies, there shall be measures of mildness
and compassion taken with the unfortunate victims of their delusions."

"Such is ever the course of Holy Church, my lord," said the prior
of St. Dominic's.

"Why, then, let the commission be expedited with due care, in name
of our brother Albany, and such others as shall be deemed convenient,"
said the King. "And now once again let us break up our council; and,
Rothsay, come thou with me, and lend me thine arm; I have matter
for thy private ear."

"Ho, la!" here exclaimed the Prince, in the tone in which he would
have addressed a managed horse.

"What means this rudeness, boy?" said the King; "wilt thou never
learn reason and courtesy?"

"Let me not be thought to offend, my liege," said the Prince; "but
we are parting without learning what is to be done in the passing
strange adventure of the dead hand, which the Douglas hath so
gallantly taken up. We shall sit but uncomfortably here at Perth,
if we are at variance with the citizens."

"Leave that to me," said Albany. "With some little grant of lands
and money, and plenty of fair words, the burghers may be satisfied
for this time; but it were well that the barons and their followers,
who are in attendance on the court, were warned to respect the
peace within burgh."

"Surely, we would have it so," said the King; "let strict orders
be given accordingly."

"It is doing the churls but too much grace," said the Douglas; "but
be it at your Highness's pleasure. I take leave to retire."

"Not before you taste a flagon of Gascon wine, my lord?" said the
King.

"Pardon," replied the Earl, "I am not athirst, and I drink not
for fashion, but either for need or for friendship." So saying, he
departed.

The King, as if relieved by his absence, turned to Albany, and
said: "And now, my lord, we should chide this truant Rothsay of
ours; yet he hath served us so well at council, that we must receive
his merits as some atonement for his follies."

"I am happy to hear it," answered Albany, with a countenance of
pity and incredulity, as if he knew nothing of the supposed services.

"Nay, brother, you are dull," said the King, "for I will not think
you envious. Did you not note that Rothsay was the first to suggest
the mode of settling the Highlands, which your experience brought
indeed into better shape, and which was generally approved of; and
even now we had broken up, leaving a main matter unconsidered, but
that he put us in mind of the affray with the citizens?"

"I nothing doubt, my liege," said the Duke of Albany, with the
acquiescence which he saw was expected, "that my royal nephew will
soon emulate his father's wisdom."

"Or," said the Duke of Rothsay, "I may find it easier to borrow
from another member of my family that happy and comfortable cloak
of hypocrisy which covers all vices, and then it signifies little
whether they exist or not."

"My lord prior," said the Duke, addressing the Dominican, "we will
for a moment pray your reverence's absence. The King and I have
that to say to the Prince which must have no further audience, not
even yours."

The Dominican bowed and withdrew.

When the two royal brothers and the Prince were left together,
the King seemed in the highest degree embarrassed and distressed,
Albany sullen and thoughtful, while Rothsay himself endeavoured
to cover some anxiety under his usual appearance of levity. There
was a silence of a minute. At length Albany spoke.

"Royal brother," he said, "my princely nephew entertains with so
much suspicion any admonition coming from my mouth, that I must
pray your Grace yourself to take the trouble of telling him what
it is most fitting he should know."

"It must be some unpleasing communication indeed, which my Lord of
Albany cannot wrap up in honied words," said the Prince.

"Peace with thine effrontery, boy," answered the King, passionately.
"You asked but now of the quarrel with the citizens. Who caused
that quarrel, David? What men were those who scaled the window of
a peaceful citizen and liege man, alarmed the night with torch and
outcry, and subjected our subjects to danger and affright?"

"More fear than danger, I fancy," answered the Prince; "but how
can I of all men tell who made this nocturnal disturbance?"

"There was a follower of thine own there," continued the King--
"a man of Belial, whom I will have brought to condign punishment."

"I have no follower, to my knowledge, capable of deserving your
Highness's displeasure," answered the Prince.

"I will have no evasions, boy. Where wert thou on St. Valentine's
Eve?"

"It is to be hoped that I was serving the good saint, as a man of
mould might," answered the young man, carelessly.

"Will my royal nephew tell us how his master of the horse was
employed upon that holy eve?" said the Duke of Albany.

"Speak, David; I command thee to speak," said the King.

"Ramorny was employed in my service, I think that answer may satisfy
my uncle."

"But it will not satisfy me," said the angry father. "God knows,
I never coveted man's blood, but that Ramorny's head I will have,
if law can give it. He has been the encourager and partaker of all
thy numerous vices and follies. I will take care he shall be so no
more. Call MacLouis, with a guard."

"Do not injure an innocent man," interposed the Prince, desirous at
every sacrifice to preserve his favourite from the menaced danger:
"I pledge my word that Ramorny was employed in business of mine,
therefore could not be engaged in this brawl."

"False equivocator that thou art!" said the King, presenting to the
Prince a ring, "behold the signet of Ramorny, lost in the infamous
affray! It fell into the hands of a follower of the Douglas, and
was given by the Earl to my brother. Speak not for Ramorny, for
he dies; and go thou from my presence, and repent the flagitious
counsels which could make thee stand before me with a falsehood in
thy mouth. Oh, shame, David--shame! as a son thou hast lied to
thy father, as a knight to the head of thy order."

The Prince stood mute, conscience struck, and self convicted. He
then gave way to the honourable feelings which at bottom he really
possessed, and threw himself at his father's feet.

"The false knight," he said, "deserves degradation, the disloyal
subject death; but, oh! let the son crave from the father pardon
for the servant who did not lead him into guilt, but who reluctantly
plunged himself into it at his command. Let me bear the weight of
my own folly, but spare those who have been my tools rather than
my accomplices. Remember, Ramorny was preferred to my service by
my sainted mother."

"Name her not, David, I charge thee," said the King; "she is happy
that she never saw the child of her love stand before her doubly
dishonoured by guilt and by falsehood."

"I am indeed unworthy to name her," said the Prince; "and yet, my
dear father, in her name I must petition for Ramorny's life."

"If I might offer my counsel," said the Duke of Albany, who saw
that a reconciliation would soon take place betwixt the father and
son, "I would advise that Ramorny be dismissed from the Prince's
household and society, with such further penalty as his imprudence
may seem to merit. The public will be contented with his disgrace,
and the matter will be easily accommodated or stifled, so that his
Highness do not attempt to screen his servant."

"Wilt thou, for my sake, David," said the King, with a faltering
voice and the tear in his eye, "dismiss this dangerous man?--for
my sake, who could not refuse thee the heart out of my bosom?"

"It shall be done, my father--done instantly," the Prince replied;
and seizing the pen, he wrote a hasty dismissal of Ramorny from his
service, and put it into Albany's hands. "I would I could fulfil all
your wishes as easily, my royal father," he added, again throwing
himself at the King's feet, who raised him up and fondly folded
him in his arms.

Albany scowled, but was silent; and it was not till after the space
of a minute or two that he said: "This matter being so happily
accommodated, let me ask if your Majesty is pleased to attend the
evensong service in the chapel?"

"Surely," said the King. "Have I not thanks to pay to God, who has
restored union to my family? You will go with us, brother?"

"So please your Grace to give me leave of absence--no," said the
Duke. "I must concert with the Douglas and others the manner in
which we may bring these Highland vultures to our lure."

Albany retired to think over his ambitious projects, while the
father and son attended divine service, to thank God for their
happy reconciliation.



CHAPTER XIV.

Will you go to the Hielands, Lizzy Lyndesay,
Will you go the Hielands wi' me?
Will you go to the Hielands, Lizzy Lyndesay,
My bride and my darling to be?

Old Ballad.


A former chapter opened in the royal confessional; we are now to
introduce our readers to a situation somewhat similar, though the
scene and persons were very different. Instead of a Gothic and darkened
apartment in a monastery, one of the most beautiful prospects in
Scotland lay extended beneath the hill of Kinnoul, and at the foot
of a rock which commanded the view in every direction sat the Fair
Maid of Perth, listening in an attitude of devout attention to the
instructions of a Carthusian monk, in his white gown and scapular,
who concluded his discourse with prayer, in which his proselyte
devoutly joined.

When they had finished their devotions, the priest sat for some
time with his eyes fixed on the glorious prospect, of which even
the early and chilly season could not conceal the beauties, and it
was some time ere he addressed his attentive companion.

"When I behold," he said at length, "this rich and varied land,
with its castles, churches, convents, stately palaces, and fertile
fields, these extensive woods, and that noble river, I know
not, my daughter, whether most to admire the bounty of God or the
ingratitude of man. He hath given us the beauty and fertility of
the earth, and we have made the scene of his bounty a charnel house
and a battlefield. He hath given us power over the elements, and
skill to erect houses for comfort and defence, and we have converted
them into dens for robbers and ruffians."

"Yet, surely, my father, there is room for comfort," replied
Catharine, "even in the very prospect we look upon. Yonder four
goodly convents, with their churches, and their towers, which tell
the citizens with brazen voice that they should think on their
religious duties; their inhabitants, who have separated themselves
from the world, its pursuits and its pleasures, to dedicate themselves
to the service of Heaven--all bear witness that, if Scotland be
a bloody and a sinful land, she is yet alive and sensible to the
claims which religion demands of the human race."

"Verily, daughter," answered the priest, "what you say seems truth;
and yet, nearly viewed, too much of the comfort you describe will
be found delusive. It is true, there was a period in the Christian
world when good men, maintaining themselves by the work of their
hands, assembled together, not that they might live easily or sleep
softly, but that they might strengthen each other in the Christian
faith, and qualify themselves to be teachers of the Word to the
people. Doubtless there are still such to be found in the holy
edifices on which we now look. But it is to be feared that the love
of many has waxed cold. Our churchmen have become wealthy, as well
by the gifts of pious persons as by the bribes which wicked men
have given in their ignorance, imagining that they can purchase that
pardon by endowments to the church which Heaven has only offered
to sincere penitents. And thus, as the church waxeth rich, her
doctrines have unhappily become dim and obscure, as a light is
less seen if placed in a lamp of chased gold than beheld through
a screen of glass. God knows, if I see these things and mark them,
it is from no wish of singularity or desire to make myself a teacher
in Israel; but because the fire burns in my bosom, and will not
permit me to be silent. I obey the rules of my order, and withdraw not
myself from its austerities. Be they essential to our salvation, or
be they mere formalities, adopted to supply the want of real penitence
and sincere devotion, I have promised, nay, vowed, to observe them;
and they shall be respected by me the more, that otherwise I might
be charged with regarding my bodily ease, when Heaven is my witness
how lightly I value what I may be called on to act or suffer, if
the purity of the church could be restored, or the discipline of
the priesthood replaced in its primitive simplicity."

"But, my father," said Catharine, "even for these opinions men
term you a Lollard and a Wickliffite, and say it is your desire
to destroy churches and cloisters, and restore the religion of
heathenesse."

"Even so, my daughter, am I driven to seek refuge in hills and
rocks, and must be presently contented to take my flight amongst
the rude Highlanders, who are thus far in a more gracious state
than those I leave behind me, that theirs are crimes of ignorance,
not of presumption. I will not omit to take such means of safety
and escape from their cruelty as Heaven may open to me; for, while
such appear, I shall account it a sign that I have still a service
to accomplish. But when it is my Master's pleasure, He knows how
willingly Clement Blair will lay down a vilified life upon earth,
in humble hope of a blessed exchange hereafter. But wherefore dost
thou look northward so anxiously, my child? Thy young eyes are
quicker than mine--dost thou see any one coming?"

"I look, father, for the Highland youth, Conachar, who will be thy
guide to the hills, where his father can afford thee a safe, if
a rude, retreat. This he has often promised, when we spoke of you
and of your lessons. I fear he is now in company where he will soon
forget them."

"The youth hath sparkles of grace in him," said Father Clement;
"although those of his race are usually too much devoted to their
own fierce and savage customs to endure with patience either the
restraints of religion or those of the social law. Thou hast never
told me, daughter, how, contrary to all the usages either of the
burgh or of the mountains, this youth came to reside in thy father's
house?"

"All I know touching that matter," said Catharine, "is, that his
father is a man of consequence among those hill men, and that he
desired as a favour of my father, who hath had dealings with them
in the way of his merchandise, to keep this youth for a certain
time, and that it is only two days since they parted, as Conachar
was to return home to his own mountains."

"And why has my daughter," demanded the priest, "maintained such a
correspondence with this Highland youth, that she should know how
to send for him when she desired to use his services in my behalf?
Surely, this is much influence for a maiden to possess over such
a wild colt as this youthful mountaineer."

Catharine blushed, and answered with hesitation: "If I have had any
influence with Conachar, Heaven be my witness, I have only exerted
it to enforce upon his fiery temper compliance with the rules of
civil life. It is true, I have long expected that you, my father,
would be obliged to take to flight, and I therefore had agreed
with him that he should meet me at this place as soon as he should
receive a message from me with a token, which I yesterday despatched.
The messenger was a lightfooted boy of his own clan, whom he used
sometimes to send on errands into the Highlands."

"And am I then to understand, daughter, that this youth, so fair
to the eye, was nothing more dear to you than as you desired to
enlighten his mind and reform his manners?"

"It is so, my father, and no otherwise," answered Catharine; "and
perhaps I did not do well to hold intimacy with him, even for his
instruction and improvement. But my discourse never led farther."

"Then have I been mistaken, my daughter; for I thought I had seen
in thee of late some change of purpose, and some wishful regards
looking back to this world, of which you were at one time resolved
to take leave."

Catharine hung down her head and blushed more deeply than ever as
she said: "Yourself, father, were used to remonstrate against my
taking the veil."

"Nor do I now approve of it, my child," said the priest. "Marriage
is an honourable state, appointed by Heaven as the regular means
of continuing the race of man; and I read not in the Scriptures
what human inventions have since affirmed concerning the superior
excellence of a state of celibacy. But I am jealous of thee,
my child, as a father is of his only daughter, lest thou shouldst
throw thyself away upon some one unworthy of thee. Thy parent, I
know, less nice in thy behalf than I am, countenances the addresses
of that fierce and riotous reveller whom they call Henry of the
Wynd. He is rich it may be; but a haunter of idle and debauched
company--a common prizefighter, who has shed human blood like
water. Can such a one be a fit mate for Catharine Glover? And yet
report says they are soon to be united."

The Fair Maid of Perth's complexion changed from red to pale, and
from pale to red, as she hastily replied: "I think not of him;
though it is true some courtesies have passed betwixt us of late,
both as he is my father's friend and as being according to the
custom of the time, my Valentine."

"Your Valentine, my child!" said Father Clement. "And can your
modesty and prudence have trifled so much with the delicacy of your
sex as to place yourself in such a relation to such a man as this
artificer? Think you that this Valentine, a godly saint and Christian
bishop, as he is said to have been, ever countenanced a silly and
unseemly custom, more likely to have originated in the heathen
worship of Flora or Venus, when mortals gave the names of deities
to their passions; and studied to excite instead of restraining
them?"

"Father," said Catharine, in a tone of more displeasure than she had
ever before assumed to the Carthusian, "I know not upon what ground
you tax me thus severely for complying with a general practice,
authorised by universal custom and sanctioned by my father's
authority. I cannot feel it kind that you put such misconstruction
upon me."

"Forgive me, daughter," answered the priest, mildly, "if I have
given you offence. But this Henry Gow, or Smith, is a forward,
licentious man, to whom you cannot allow any uncommon degree
of intimacy and encouragement, without exposing yourself to worse
misconstruction--unless, indeed, it be your purpose to wed him,
and that very shortly."

"Say no more of it, my father," said Catharine. "You give me more
pain than you would desire to do; and I may be provoked to answer
otherwise than as becomes me. Perhaps I have already had cause
enough to make me repent my compliance with an idle custom. At any
rate, believe that Henry Smith is nothing to me, and that even the
idle intercourse arising from St. Valentine's Day is utterly broken
off."

"I am rejoiced to hear it, my daughter," replied the Carthusian,
"and must now prove you on another subject, which renders me most
anxious on your behalf. You cannot your self be ignorant of it,
although I could wish it were not necessary to speak of a thing
so dangerous, even, before these surrounding rocks, cliffs, and
stones. But it must be said. Catharine, you have a lover in the
highest rank of Scotland's sons of honour?"

"I know it, father," answered Catharine, composedly. "I would it
were not so."

"So would I also," said the priest, "did I see in my daughter only
the child of folly, which most young women are at her age, especially
if possessed of the fatal gift of beauty. But as thy charms, to
speak the language of an idle world, have attached to thee a lover
of such high rank, so I know that thy virtue and wisdom will maintain
the influence over the Prince's mind which thy beauty hath acquired."