The king bowed slightly, showing no more interest or animation than if he had been listening to the light gossip of the court. "Because we two loved each other, I have carried off a bride from your councillor of state, my Lord Barra, that I might make her my wife. I escaped from your prison of Amersfort in order that I might rescue my love. I fought at Killiekrankie and Dunkeld--fought for King James, that I might win a way to her. For myself, therefore, I ask no mercy, and I expect none. But with confidence and unbound heart I place this lady, my wife, under the protection of your highness, a prince just and clement--so that whatever happens she may not fall into the power of her enemy and mine, the Lord Barra, from whom and from death I have saved her this day!" "And how did you save her?" said William, looking at him level-eyed, as one man looks at another whom he knows to be also a man. "I went to the wedding to drink the bride's last loving-cup, and when the bride came to the hall-door to speak with me I looked in her eyes once. Then I took her on my saddle-bow and rode away from among them all," said Wat, simply. A little cheer fluttered out among the courtiers at this conclusion, and the ladies clapped their hands as at a play. The king silenced them with a wave of his hand. "And you expect--?" said William, and paused, questioningly. "I expect nothing, Prince of Orange," said Wat, boldly. "But I resolved to come to you and tell you the worst. For I would rather have your justice than any other man's mercy--especially that of the men who rule for you in Scotland." The king shrugged his shoulders. "Aye," he said. "I am with you there. I wish that stiff-necked country of yours were a thousand miles off and Duke Hamilton the king of it." "You fought by my side at Calmthout, did you not?" he said, suddenly, bending his piercing eyes on the young man. Wat bowed, with a sudden access of pleasure shining on his face. "And you saved the colors at Louvain," the king added. Wat continued to hold his head down. William's memory was marvellous. "You also brought the papers, relative to the manning and armament of the camp, out of the inn of Brederode, wresting them from the French spies at the risk of your life. And I made you an officer for it." He paused again, still smiling. Never was there a brave man so nobly clement as William of Orange. "If I pardon you the double treason--and the prison-breaking," he added, a little thoughtfully, "will you command again for me--not a company this time, but a regiment?" It was an offer noble, generous, worthy of the greatest prince. The courtiers and the great folks assembled gave a shout, which was not checked this time. The king still stood silent, smiling, expectant, confident of Wat's answer.