The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 1 (of 3)Hogg, James
History
The Three Perils of Man; or, War, Women, and Witchcraft, Vol. 1 (of 3)
Hogg, James
Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- Robert II, 1371-1390 -- Fiction
High offence was now manifest in Lord Jasper Tudor's look. He rose from
his seat, and said in great indignation, "I did not ween I should be
insulted in this guise by the meanest peasant in Scotland, far less by
one of its courtiers, and least of all by a prince of the blood royal.
Yeomen, I will not, I cannot suffer this degradation. These ruffian
Scots are intruders on us,--here I desire that you will expel them the
house."
The Prince of Scotland was at the head of the table, Tudor was at his
right hand; the rest of the English were all on that side, the Scots on
the other,--their numbers were equal. Dan and his three brethren sat at
the bottom of the board around the old man, who had been plying at the
beef with no ordinary degree of perseverance, nor did he cease when the
fray began. Every one of the two adverse parties was instantly on his
feet, with his sword gleaming in his hand; but finding that the benches
from which they had arisen hampered them, they with one accord sprung on
the tops of these, and crossed their swords. The pages screamed like
women. The two noble adventurers seemed scarcely to know the use of
their weapons, but looked on with astonishment. At length the prince,
somewhat collecting himself, drew out his shabby whanger, and brandished
it in a most unwarlike guise, on which the blue-eyed Tudor retreated
behind his attendants, holding up his hands, but still apparently intent
on revenge for the vile obloquy thrown on the character of _his cousin_,
Lady Jane Howard. "Tis just pe te shance she vantit," said the Scot next
to the prince.
"My certy, man, we'll get a paick at the louns now," said the second.
"Fat te teel's ta'en 'e bits o' vee laddies to flee a' eet abeet 'er
buts o' wheers? I wudnae hae my feet i' their sheen for three plucks an
a beedle," said the third.
"Thou's a' i' the wrang buox now, chaps," said the fourth. These were
all said with one breath; and before the Englishmen had time to reply,
clash went the swords across the table, and the third Scot, the true
Aberdonian, was wounded, as were also two of the Englishmen, at the very
first pass.
These matters are much sooner done than described. All this was the
work of a few seconds, and done before advice could either be given or
attended to. Dan now interfered with all the spirit and authority that
he was master of. He came dashing along the middle of the board in his
great war boots, striking up their swords as he came, and interposing
his boardly frame between the combatants. "D--n ye a' for a wheen
madcaps!" cried Dan as loud as he could bawl: "What the muckle deil's
fa'en a bobbing at your midriffs now? Ye're a' my father's guests an'
mine; an', by the shin-banes o' Sant Peter, the first side that lifts a
sword, or says a misbehadden word, my three brethren and I will tak' the
tother side, an' smoor the transgressors like as mony moor-poots."
"Keep your feet aff the meat, fool," said old Pate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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