The tournament of the Middle Ages had ere this period fallen into disuse. Gunpowder had already taught the warrior that his cumbersome array of mail and plate was no secure defence, and although he had not yet discarded corslet and head-piece, he was already beginning to learn the lesson of modern warfare--that sagacity is as important a gift as courage, and agility a more effective quality than strength. Perhaps also the untoward accident that, within a few years, had deprived France of her monarch, served to bring the tournament into disrepute; and the Scotch, who, beside their tendency to imitate French manners, were then, as now, somewhat of utilitarians, need not have been long in arriving at the conclusion that such conflicts were a waste of strength, courage, and mettle, both in man and horse. Riding at the ring, however--an exercise requiring perfect horsemanship and great dexterity in the use of the lance--long remained a favourite amusement amongst the young Scotch lords. It was no easy task to carry off, on the point of a spear, a ring scarce two inches in diameter, suspended from a slackened cord, whilst moving at a gallop; and the cavalier whose hand, eye, and seat were alike perfect enough to accomplish this feat, would have been a formidable antagonist in the crash of a real encounter--man to man and horse to horse, armed _cap-à-pie_ in steel. On the present occasion the amusement partook somewhat of the character of a masque. The two Lords Stuart, in defiance of Mistress Alison Craig’s prophecy, had not found themselves so tamed and spirit-broken by marriage as to give up their favourite occupations, and had been instrumental in setting on foot the pageant which had now collected so motley a concourse in the Queen’s Park. Six gallants disguised as amazons, had resolved to hold the lists against other six disguised as savages, the victory to be decided by success in carrying off the ring. The Queen herself had given the prize to be contended for--a gold heart of exquisite workmanship, and a purse filled with broad pieces. To add to the interest, a dozen of ladies chosen by lot, amongst whom were the Queen and the Maries, had been entreated to select each one a champion, and it was partly for this purpose that the train of female beauty, with Mary Stuart at its head, now wound in and out amongst the barriers which enclosed the lists, together with the domestics and horses of those who were about to ride. As she approached one of the savages, who was already in the saddle, and poising his lance in his hand, the Queen started and turned pale in obvious distress. She would have passed him without notice, but the rider, whose wandering eye and excited gestures denoted that he ought not to be at large, reined his horse across Her Majesty so as to oppose her progress, and casting his lance at her feet, demanded to be chosen her champion and her true knight. The Queen drew herself up and looked really angry.