Scotland -- History -- James II, 1437-1460 -- Fiction
"William Douglas," said the countess, who had been conferring for a
moment with Abercorn, "you speak as your father would have spoken; yet
act warily, as he would have acted. We know not what may be the issue
of a day which has commenced so ominously, and, if swords are drawn,
women would but encumber you. Murielle, Lady Ormond, and I will tarry
here until the banquet is over. Make fitting excuses to the regent and
chancellor--say we are indisposed by our long journey, or what you
will; and now let it be known, gentlemen, kinsmen, and friends, that
in this matter I yield neither to the advice of my loving lord and
husband, who is ever rash; nor to the advice of Sir Malcolm Fleming,
who is so wary; nor to that of our lord abbot, who is ever good and
true; but to the wish of Earl James of Abercorn."
Whether these words were spoken heedlessly as a sneer at the ready
manner in which that noble agreed to remain behind, or in mere
politeness, none could then divine; but there came a _time_ when they
were remembered by many to the disadvantage of the proud and wilful
young beauty.
At that moment a man in armour with a closed helmet rode hurriedly
through the archway. He was James Achanna.
"Lord earl," said he, "the chancellor awaits you without the castle
gate."
"Enough, then--let us go; we should have been ringing glasses and
exchanging kissing-comfits with our _beloved_ friend the chancellor an
hour since," said Douglas, lifting his plumed bonnet as he courteously
kissed the hands of his wife and her sister.
He then put spurs to his horse and rode off, accompanied by his brother
David, Sir Malcolm Fleming, Sir Alan Lauder, the abbot, and five
hundred men led by the earl of Ormond--all completely armed and horsed.
As the clatter of their hoofs died away, a foreboding sigh came from
Margaret's breast; but there was a cold though courteous smile on the
lips of Lord Abercorn, as he gave her his ungloved hand and led her,
with Murielle, back into the almost deserted house of the abbot.
Why was it that Margaret's heart upbraided her? She seemed still to
see before her the face of that proud and handsome, noble-hearted
and high-spirited cousin with whom she had shared her heart and the
revenues of her princely house!...
Why was it that, as the day passed slowly on and the November sun sank
in masses of foggy cloud, the earl of Abercorn, pale, excited, and
abstracted, shunned his friends and paced to and fro in the abbot's
garden, casting his eyes ever and anon to the summit of the fortress,
which was visible above the adjacent streets?
He started! a distant hum became a confused clamour of many voices;
then the galloping of horses and a rush of feet were heard.
He looked again to David tower, and from its rampart the national cross
had disappeared. A _black_ banner was floating there, and only half
hoisted on the staff,--a double symbol of death!
CHAPTER XI
THE VIGIL OF ST. CATHARINE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account