The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. Vol. 1Aguilar, Grace
History
The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. Vol. 1
Aguilar, Grace
Robert I, King of Scots, 1274-1329 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- Robert I, 1306-1329 -- Fiction
"It must not be with a trembling hand the betrothed of a Bruce arms her
chosen knight, fair Agnes," continued the king, cheeringly. "She must
inspire him with valor and confidence. Smile, then, gentlest and
loveliest; we would have all smiles to-day."
And she did smile, but it was a smile of tears, gleaming on her
beautiful face as a sunny beam through a glistening spray. One by one
the cuirass and shoulder-pieces, the greaves and gauntlets, the gorget
and brassards, the joints of which were so beautifully burnished that
they shone as mirrors, and so flexible every limb had its free use,
enveloped those manly forms. Their swords once again girt to their
sides, and once more keeling, the king descended from his throne, and
alternately dubbed them knight in the name of God, St. Michael, and St.
George.
"Be faithful, brave, and hardy, youthful cavaliers," he said; "true to
the country which claims ye, to the monarch ye have sworn to serve, to
the knight from whose sword ye have received the honor ye have craved.
Remember, 'tis not the tournay nor the tilted field in which ye will
gain renown. For your country let your swords be drawn; against her foes
reap laurels. Sir Nigel, 'tis thine to retain unsullied the name thou
bearest, to let the Bruce be glorified in thee. And thou, Sir Alan, 'tis
thine to _earn_ a name--in very truth, to win thy golden spurs; to prove
we do no unwise deed, forgetting thy early years, to do honor to thy
mother's son."
Lightly and eagerly the new-made knights sprung to their feet, the very
clang of their glittering armor ringing gratefully and rejoicingly in
their ears. Their gallant steeds, barded and richly caparisoned, held by
their esquires, stood neighing and pawing at the foot of the steps
leading from the oaken doors.
Without touching the stirrup, both sprung at the same instant in their
saddles; the helmet, with its long graceful plume, was quickly donned;
the lance and shield received; the pennon adorning the iron head of each
lowered a moment in honor to their sovereign, then waved gayly in air,
and then each lance was laid in rest; a trumpet sounded, and onward
darted the fiery youths thrice round the lists, displaying a skill and
courage in horsemanship which was hailed with repeated shouts of
applause. But on the tournay and the banquet which succeeded the
ceremony we have described we may not linger, but pass rapidly on to a
later period of the same evening.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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