Scotland -- History -- James II, 1437-1460 -- Fiction
"Slay a chancellor? Yes, if I can, and this dog regent, too, like false
hounds and fell traitors as ye are!" replied the brave youth, with
a scornful but heartrending smile; while, by the press of partisans
levelled in a dense rank, he and his brother, with Sir Malcolm
Fleming, Sir Alan Lauder, and all others disposed to resistance, were
thrust close to the wall, yet they shouted resolutely, "a Douglas! a
Douglas!" The chairs and banquet-tables were overthrown, and all became
a scene of confusion, destruction, and dismay, from which many fled by
the doors, not knowing how the brawl would end.
"Guards and gentlemen!" exclaimed the tall grim regent, as he towered
above the armed throng, and roughly but firmly grasped the left arm
of the bewildered king, who thought he was about to perish, like his
father, by the hands of regicides, yet, like a brave boy as he was,
had rushed forward to save Douglas; "guards and gentlemen, disarm this
traitorous peer and all who have drawn their swords by his side in the
royal presence. Put up your blade, I command you, William, earl of
Douglas--the king is here, and this is his royal castle!"
"Dishonour blight it for this day's deed," exclaimed old Sir Malcolm
Fleming, "and may its roof-tree be the gallows of all thy race,
accursed Crichton! thou cogging villain, thou cheat and assassin! And
as for _thee_, Lord regent--hah! the sword that knighted thee was never
notched in battle!"
"A very carpet squire!" said Lauder, scornfully.
"Liars are both; the blade that knighted me was our Scottish sword of
state; a king's hand gave me the accolade--a king murdered by traitors
false as you! Now hearken to me, Douglas. Fate has this day placed the
destinies of your rebellious and overweening house in the hands of
a justly-offended king and his resolute ministers, so prepare for a
doom upon which a short but ample career of evil actions has hurried
you--that fatal doom which incensed justice is about to mete out to
you and the adherents of your father. Disarm them, guards I say; by
_my_ voice the king commands it!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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