“An thou canst play as thou wert doing a minute since I will wait on thy beast and ride with thee.” Then Feargus arose, but made as though he were bent and decrepit, and, mounting his beast, rode on behind the prince; but they went but slowly for the horse of Feargus was overdone, and Feargus was a merciful man and loved all breathing things. At length they won the castle, and Feargus marked it well. It lay between high hills in a narrow glen, and to the west were two hills with conical tops;[8] it was a great building of wood, stone, and earth and had many towers, some tall and narrow and pointed, others in the style of the Roman city of Camelon, which could be seen lying in the plain to the north-west, from the great brae up which they wended by the hill of Bonaly. Close by the castle stretched a loch and the hills encompassed it. It was the last outpost of the English of Lothian built to keep back the native people who still held out in the wide moors and fastnesses. They entered over the drawbridge and the prince bade his servants give the minstrel meat and drink and then bring him to the hall. They set the meat before him and he ate heartily, so that they were astonished he being so old a man. Then said the seneschal, “Methinks thou hast had a mighty frame in thy youth, good minstrel.” “Aye, and thou hast handled a sword as well as a harp methinks, father,” said another. Then Feargus arose. “Yes,” he said, “I have used the harp and the sword, but better I love the harp which makes men merry than the sword which makes them sad.” “Thou sayest sooth,” said the seneschal, and Feargus took his harp and soon, such was his skill, and such was the beauty of the music of Albainn which he played, that they forgot the harper and cried, “Well done! well done! thou art the king of minstrels.”