Scotland -- History -- James II, 1437-1460 -- Fiction
"To the point, my lords, under favour of the king," said Sir Patrick
Gray, gnawing his moustache in his impatience.
CHAPTER XLIII.
A LADLEFUL OF GOLD.
Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loon,
Nor shalt thou yield to me;
But yield thee to the braken bush
That grows on yon lilye lee.--OLD BALLAD.
"What more have I to hear of this false noble and his followers?" said
the king, after briefly, and to Gray's great annoyance, rehearsing the
whole story of the murder of his vassal, the miller of Carluke, in the
sanctuary of Lesmahago.
"The earl has lawlessly seized, and ignominiously imprisoned, in his
hold of Thrave, a good and loyal servant of your majesty."
"That is nothing new; but what is his name?" asked James, grasping the
arms of the chair, and thrusting aside the tabourette with his foot,
while his hazel eyes flashed fire with anger, and his dark brows were
knit.
"Sir Thomas MacLellan, of Bombie," replied the chancellor, with grave
energy.
"My friend--the Lieutenant of my Guard!"
"My brave kinsman!"
Such were the exclamations of the king and of Sir Patrick Gray, who had
come from the sunny recess of the window, and in deep anxiety stood
near the chancellor's chair to listen. In his anger, James snatched
from the table his amber rosary and dagger of mercy, as if about to
utter some vague threat or malediction, and then cast them from him,
though the latter was the gift of his brother-in-law, Sigismund of
Austria, and was hilted by a single agate.
"Sir Thomas MacLellan, of Bombie," resumed the chancellor, gravely and
earnestly, "your majesty's steward of Kirkcudbright, is now a prisoner
in the castle of Thrave manacled with the heaviest chains MacKim, the
earl's smith, can forge, and hourly is menaced with death."
"And wherefore has this been done?"
"The whole of this new outrage is detailed to me in a letter from the
abbot of Tongland, who has at _last_--the pedantic fool! the very
dunce!--(excuse me, my lord abbot of Melrose)--abandoned the earl, his
chief, and has secluded himself in his abbey, despairing, I presume, of
the reformation of Douglas, as of that of the devil himself, concerning
whom he so lately visited Rome."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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