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
It now became necessary to make some arrangement for the parties passing
the night. Patrick Chisholm's house had but one fire-place in an
apartment which served for kitchen and hall; but it had a kind of _ben
end_, as it was then, and is always to this day, denominated in that
part of the country. There was scarcely room to move a foot in it; for,
besides two oaken beds with rowan-tree bars, it contained five huge
chests belonging to the father and his sons, that held their clothes
and warlike accoutrements. The daughters of yeomen in these days did not
sit at table with the men. They were the household servants. Two of
Pate's daughters, who had been bustling about all the evening, conducted
the two noble youths into this apartment, together with their two pages.
The one bed was neatly made down with clean clothes, and the other in a
more common way. "Now," said one of the landward lasses, "You twa
masters are to sleep thegither in here,--in o' this gude bed, ye see,
an' the twa lads in o' this ane." The two young noblemen were standing
close together, as behoved in such a room. On the girl addressing them
thus, their eyes met each other's, but were as instantly withdrawn and
fixed on the floor, while a blush of the deepest tint suffused the
cheeks of both, spreading over the chin and neck of each. The pages
contemplated each other in the same way, but not with the same degree of
timidity. The English stripling seemed rather to approve of the
arrangement, or at least pretended to do so; for he frankly took the
other by the hand, and said in a sweet voice, but broad dialect, "Weall,
yuong Scuot, daghest thou lig woth mey?" The young Caledonian withdrew
his hand, and held down his head: "I always lie at my master's feet,"
said he.
"And so shall you do to-night, Colin," said the prince, "for I will
share this bed with you, and let my lord take the good one." "I cannot
go to bed to-night," said Tudor, "I will rest me on this chest; I am
resolved I sha'n't go to bed, nor throw off my clothes to-night."
"Ye winna?" said May Chisholm, who visibly wanted a romp with the young
blooming chief,--"Ye winna gang til nae bed, will ye nae, and me has
been at sic pains making it up til ye? Bess, come here an' help me, we
sal soon see whether he's gang til his bed or no, an' that no wi' his
braw claes on neither." So saying, the two frolicsome queans seized the
rosy stripling, and in a moment had him stretched on the bed, and,
making his doublet fly open all at one rude pull, they were proceeding
to undress him, giggling and laughing all the while. Prince Alexander,
from a momentary congenial feeling of delicacy, put his hand hastily
across to keep the lapels of Tudor's vesture together, without the
motion having been perceived by any one in the hurry, and that moment
the page flung himself across his master's breast, and reproved the
lasses so sharply that they desisted, and left them to settle the matter
as they chose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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