The Caged Lion

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  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 w
ho 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 Eng
lish 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 bi
g 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.