whom she supposed to be mere visitors at Dunvegan, was at first
equally charming to each. A younger sister was her almost constant
companion, which was very well at first but latterly became irksome to
both the suitors. Occasionally, however, one James or the other saw
her alone and made the most of the opportunity presented, but the king
soon found himself tremendously handicapped in the matter of language.
The young lady possessed a keen sense of humour, and this, with the
ever present knowledge that her English was not that of the schools,
made her loth to adventure in that tongue before one accustomed to
its polished use. This same sense of humour was equally embarrassing
when the king madly plunged into the intricacies and ambushes of
the Gaelic. His majesty was brave enough for anything and did not
hesitate, as a forlorn hope, to call his scant knowledge of the Gaelic
to his aid, but even he could see that the result was invariably
unhappy, for although the girl made every endeavour to retain her
composure, there were times when some unfortunate phrase made her
slight frame quiver with suppressed merriment, and no one knew better
than the baffled king, that laughter banishes sentiment. The serious
Highlander, not less manly and handsome than his competitor, was
gifted with an immeasurable advantage in his familiarity with every
phase and inflection of his native vernacular. In his despair the
king struck up a close friendship with Donald, the second son of
the MacLeod, the elder son being absent on some foray or expedition,
and his majesty made a frantic effort to learn the only speech with
which his new comrade was equipped. But this race against time gave
MacDonald long and uninterrupted conferences with his inamorata, and
the king saw, too late, the futility of his endeavour. It might have
been wiser if he had taken his lessons from the girl herself instead
of from her brother, but his majesty was more proficient in teaching
than in learning from the fair sex. He had come to the conclusion that
his uninteresting rambles with Donald were not likely to further his
quest, and was sitting in his room cogitating upon some new method of
attack when MacDonald burst into the apartment with radiant face. The
king looked up at his visitor with no great good nature, and said
sharply,--
"Well, what is it?"
"Your majesty," cried MacDonald jubilantly, "I think I have found a
method of escape, and that without in any way impugning our pledges."
"Oh, is that all," said the king, with the air of snubbing too
enthusiastic a courtier. "I thought the house was on fire."
"And I thought, your majesty," returned MacDonald, "that this subject
was ever uppermost in your mind."
The king rested his closed fist on his hip, leaned his head a little
to one side and examined his rival critically.
"Why have you returned so unexpectedly to the phrase, your majesty?"
"Because, your majesty," answered MacDonald laughing, "the phrase,
Guidman of Ballengeich, no longer matters."
"I do not understand you."
"It is to make myself understood that I have come so hurriedly. I beg
then to inform your majesty, that Miss MacLeod has consented to become
my wife. I have spoken to her father, who has somewhat grudgingly and
conditionally given his consent. It occurred to me that if I wedded
the daughter of your gaoler, I may have enough influence with the
family to secure your majesty's release."
"I have no doubt," said the king, "that this was your object from the
beginning. And so you have exchanged a temporary gaoler for one that
will last you all your life."
The Highlander knit his brow and compressed his lips, as if to hold
back some retort which later he might regret. There was a moment's
constrained silence, then the king flung off his ill-humour as if it
were a cloak.
"Forgive me, Jamie," he cried, springing to his feet. "Forgive the
wounded vanity of the vanquished."
He extended his hand impetuously, which the other grasped with eager
cordiality.
"Jamie, my lad, you were right. The crown weighs heavy when it is
thrown into the scale, but with this lassie I well believe it would
have made not an ounce of difference. Let the best man win, say I,
and you're the victor, so you have my warmest congratulation. Still,
Jamie, you must admit that the Gaelic is the cursedest lingo ever a
poor Lowland-bred man tried to get his tongue round. So now you see,
Jamie, we are even again. You think the crown defeated you at
Stirling, and I hold the language defeated me in Skye; thus we are
both able to retain a good opinion of ourselves, which is the splendid
privilege of every Scotchman to hold. Your bravery deserves success,
for it requires some courage to face your future father-in-law. What
did the old curmudgeon say?"
"He gave little indication of pleasure or the reverse. He offered me
my liberty, now that I had pledged it in another direction, but he
refused to release you, so I declined to accept his clemency."
"Then my proposed rescue must await the marriage ceremony?"
"Not so. I have a more immediate and practical remedy. You have not
forgotten the twenty-six oared barge which the MacLeod was to keep for
the king, and which Malcolm MacLeod built for him."
"It is not very likely, when I issued a proclamation commending
Malcolm as the greatest shipbuilder in the world."
"Well, Malcolm has arrived at Dunvegan to receive into his own hands
once more that same proclamation. I asked him, in MacLeod's presence,
if the fleet still lingered in Torridon Bay, and he answered that it
did. MacLeod pricked up his ears at this, and thinking he was to get
some information, now that I proposed myself as a member of his
family, inquired if I knew why it remained so long. I said I had a
suspicion of the cause. If Malcolm had not replied to the king's
proclamation it was natural that the fleet would wait until he did.
Old Alexander and Malcolm seemed surprised that a response was
expected, Malcolm being but a simple yeoman. However, we wrote out a
courteous reply to the king, in Gaelic, and Malcolm is to send it to
the fleet as soon as he returns to the northern coast."
"I don't see how that is to help us," demurred his majesty.
"Here is my proposal. If you will now write out an order to the
admiral commanding the fleet to appear before Dunvegan Castle, I will
ride part of the way home with Malcolm, and suggest to him at parting,
that perhaps none of the officers of the fleet understand Gaelic, or
at least that none can read it, so I will fasten your letter to the
other document, and tell Malcolm it is a translation of his Gaelic
effusion. Neither Malcolm nor any of his friends at the port can read
English, and as he is a simple minded man it is not likely that he
will return and allow the laird a perusal. So in that way we may get
word to the fleet. Even if the letter is discovered, you will have
kept your word, for you promised only not to communicate with
Stirling."
The king pronounced the device a feasible one, and set himself at once
to the writing of the letter.
MacDonald succeeded in getting the unsuspicious Malcolm to take charge
of the supposed English version of his note, and the king was left to
await the result with whatever patience was vouchsafed him. The island
had suddenly lost all interest for him and he fervently wished himself
safely in Stirling once more. He complimented the girl on the
excellent choice she had made, and she returned his compliment
laughingly in Gaelic, glancing timidly at MacDonald as she asked him
to be her interpreter.
Two or three days later there was a commotion in the castle. The
guards on the western headlands reported the approach of numerous
ships, and by-and-by from the castle wall itself the fleet could be
seen sailing slowly up Loch Follart. For the first time since they had
known him, lines of deep anxiety marked the frowning brow of MacLeod
as he stood gazing at the approaching vessels. Here were visitors who,
if they proved not to his liking, he could scarcely threaten with the
dungeons of Dunvegan.
"What do you make of this, MacDonald?" said the chieftain, turning to
his future son-in-law, as if already he looked to him for support and
counsel.
But MacDonald shook his head, in spite of the fact that his wife
who-was-to-be, stood very close to him.
"All negotiations have been carried on by my friend here, and so to
him I must refer you. He is the leader of our expedition of two."
During his brief acquaintance MacLeod had but thinly veiled his
dislike of the Lowlander, who had always ventured to speak with him in
a free and easy manner to which he was unaccustomed. Instead then of
addressing his question to the other, he returned to his occupation of
watching the ships manoeuvring in the loch before him. But his air
of expectancy seemed to indicate that he thought the usual glibness
exhibited by the man at his right would bring forth some sort of
explanation, but the king stood as silent as himself, his eyes fixed
on the fleet. One by one the ships came to anchor and even an amateur
in the art of naval warfare could see by the protruding guns that they
were prepared for action.
MacLeod could restrain his impatience no longer, so without glancing
at his visitor, he said,--
"Perhaps you, sir, can tell me the purport of all this display."
"Assuredly," answered the king with a trace of sternness in his tone
that had hitherto been absent in his converse with his gaoler. "The
fleet comes at the command of the king to take away your prisoners, if
they are unharmed, or to batter down your castle if they have been
molested."
"I suppose then I should be thankful they are unharmed?"
"You have reason," said the king shortly.
"His majesty must set great value on your heads if he sends his whole
fleet to succour you."
"He does."
"How did he know you were here if you did not break your parole and
communicate with Stirling?"
"The king knows there is more going on in Skye than the making of
strong drink. I did not break my parole, neither did MacDonald."
"In spite of what you said to me, you must have told the king before
you left Stirling where you were going."
"I did not."
"Then word must have been brought to him from Skye?"
"It was not."
"In that case the only conclusion I can come to is that the king is
unaware of your presence here."
"He is well aware of it."
"You speak in riddles, my friend. However, I had no real wish to
detain you, and you might have gone where you pleased any time this
fortnight or more."
"So you say now."
"It's true enough, and if you wish to visit the fleet one of my boats
will be ready to carry you the moment you give the order. I told you
the first day that if you were a friend of the king's, or an emissary
of his, you could go on your way unchecked. Did I not, MacDonald?"
"You said something of that sort, sir."
"You denied being a friend of the king's," persisted MacLeod, "and
said you were but a small farmer near Stirling."
"I deny yet that I am a friend of the king. On the contrary, I don't
mind confessing to you that I am the greatest enemy he has in the
world, and it's well he knows it."
"You amaze me. Then you do not wish to meet the fleet."
"On the contrary, I do, and I ask you to order a suitable boat for
me."
"You shall have the best boat in my possession," said MacLeod leaving
them for a moment to give his command.
In a short time a large boat with ten oarsmen was waiting at the
landing.
"They are ready for you," said MacLeod with an effort at geniality,
which gave a most sinister effect to his face. "I am sorry to bid you
good-bye, but I hope you bear away with you no ill will against
Dunvegan."
"Sir," said the king ignoring his compliments, "that boat will not do
for me."
"It is the best I have," said MacLeod looking at his truculent guest
with new anxiety.
"The boat you must bring to the landing is the twenty-six oared barge,
which Malcolm MacLeod builded so well."
The MacLeod stepped back two paces.
"That boat is for the king," he said in a voice scarcely above a
whisper.
"Yes, it is for the king, therefore the king demands it. Give the
order instantly that it be brought to the landing, well manned with
twenty-six rowers."
All colour left MacLeod's face. His next words were to MacDonald.
"Is this true?" he said.
"Yes," answered MacDonald, "it is true."
The girl, her wide eyes distended with fear, clutched the arm of her
lover. Even she knew this was a case for the headsman, but MacLeod,
with not a quiver in his voice, called down to his followers,--
"Bring round the king's barge, and see it is well manned. I myself
will take the rudder."
The stern face of the king relaxed as he saw this chieftain stand
straighter than ever before since he had known him, ready to take on
his head whatever might befall.
The girl impetuously flung herself at the king's feet, and in her
excitement forgetting the limitations of his learning, she poured
forth a plea for her father in Gaelic. The king smiled as he stooped
and raised the suppliant.
"My dear," he said, "I shall never hear that language without thinking
of you, and of my own discomfiture. If it were not that MacDonald
stands there with that dour Highland look on his face, it is I would
kneel at your feet. Your father is to come with me to Stirling, for
I have said he should, and I must keep my word with myself as well
as I have kept it with him. Do not draw away your hand, in spite of
MacDonald's scowls, for I have this to promise you. If you and he will
accompany us to Stirling, I pledge to you the king's word that I
shall grant you whatever you ask. So you see you need have no fear for
your father's safety." Saying this, the king, with that courtly manner
which so well became him, gave the hand of the girl into that of
MacDonald.
Thus it came about that the MacLeod took a voyage he had not intended,
and came so unscathed from it that he long outlived the man who was
the cause of his journey.
THE KING WEDS
Even a stranger in Stirling must have been impressed by the fact
that something unusual was afoot, not to be explained by the mere
preparation for ushering in the New Year. Inquiry soon solved the
problem of the decorations and the rejoicings. James the Fifth, the
most popular king Scotland had possessed since the days of Bruce, was
about to be married, and most of his subjects thought it high time,
for he had reached the mature age of twenty-six, and monarchs are
expected to take a mate somewhat earlier than other folk. As the king,
with a splendid retinue, was to depart shortly after the new year on a
journey to France to claim his bride, the capital city flung its
bunting to the breeze, and the inhabitants thereof pledged each other
and the king in bumpers of exhilarating beverages; indeed all Scotland
was following the example set to it by Stirling, for the marriage was
extremely well liked throughout the land.
The king's father had linked himself to an English princess, and the
Scottish people thought little of her. The precipitate marriage of
this queen, only a few months after her husband's death, still further
lowered her in public estimation. Scotland professed slight regard for
Margaret of England, and was glad when her son refused the offer of
his uncle, Henry the Eighth, to provide him with a wife. Indeed, James
was at that moment the most sought-after young man in the world, so
far as matrimony was concerned. The Pope, who now addressed him as
Defender of the Faith, had a favourite candidate for his hand. Henry
the Eighth was anxious that he should have all England to pick and
choose from. The Emperor Charles the Fifth wished him to marry
Princess Mary of Portugal; Francis the First of France was eager to
supply him with a well-dowered bride. Never before had any youth such
an embarrassment of choice, but James himself decided that he would
go a-wooing to France, and his subjects universally applauded his
preference. James's elderly relative, John, Duke of Albany, had
married the heiress of De la Tour d'Auvergne, and the young king
resolved to follow his example. Apart from this, James, in a manner,
was pledged from the time he was three years of age, for Albany, when
Regent of Scotland, had promised France that the young ruler should
seek his consort in that country; so there had now been chosen for him
Mary, daughter of the Duc de Vendome, who was reported beautiful, and,
what was more to the purpose in a thrifty nation, was known to be
wealthy.
This courting by all Europe might have turned the head of a less
sensible young man than James, but he well knew the reason that so
many distinguished persons desired his alliance. Henry the Eighth was
at loggerheads with France; the Emperor Charles and Francis the First
were engaged in one of their customary aimless wars, the advantage as
usual inclining rather to the emperor's side. Scotland was at peace
with itself and with all the world. The Scots were excellent fighters
in whatever part of the world they encountered an enemy, and the
strong fleet which James the Fourth had builded was augmented by his
son and might prove a powerful factor in European politics. France and
Scotland had long been traditional friends, and so this new mating
aroused enthusiasm in both countries.
Thus Stirling put on gay attire and her citizens went about with
smiles on their faces, all except one, and that one was James himself,
who became more and more gloomy as the time for his departure
approached. He had no desire to take upon himself the trammels of the
matrimonial estate, and although his uncle, the strenuous Henry, was
ultimately to set an example before the world of the ease with which
the restrictions of marriage were to be shuffled off, yet at this time
Henry himself was merely an amateur at the business, engaged in
getting rid of Catherine of Arragon, a task which he had not yet
succeeded in accomplishing. James had postponed and re-postponed the
fateful journey; but at last he saw it must be taken, or a friendly
country, one of the proudest on earth, would be deliberately insulted
in the face of the world. Not only this, but his own subjects were
getting restive, and he knew as well as they that a disputed
succession in the event of his early death might lead to civil war.
So, making the best of the hard bargain which is imposed on princes,
where what should be the most endearing ties of human affection are
concerned, James set his face resolutely towards the south, and
attended by a brilliant escort, sailed for France. After a stormy
voyage, for the month was January, the royal party landed in France,
and was met by a company of nobles, only less splendid than itself in
that a king was one of the visitors; for Francis had remained at
Loches, to welcome his brother sovereign at that great and sinister
stronghold, where the Court of France for the moment held its seat.
Both time and weather seemed unpropitious for joyous occasion. News
arrived at Loches that the French army had suffered defeat in its
invasion of the Duke of Savoy's territory, and these tidings exercised
a depressing influence on the welcoming delegation.
As the united escorts of France and Scotland set out on their journey
to Loches a flurry of damp snow filled the air, raw from off the
Channel, and the road proved wellnigh impassable through depth of mud.
The discontented countenance of the king, who was wont to be the life
of any party of which he was a member, lowered the spirits of his
Scottish followers to the level of those saddened by military defeat
and the horsemen made their way through the quagmires of Northern
France more like a slow funeral procession than wedding guests.
At the castle where they halted at the end of the first day's
journey, the King speedily retired to the apartment assigned to him
without a word of cheer even to the most intimate of his comrades.
The travellers had accomplished only about twelve leagues from the
sea-coast on their first day's journey, and darkness had set in before
the horsemen clattered through the narrow streets of a little town and
came to the frowning gates of a great castle, whose huge tower in the
glare of numerous torches loomed out white against the wintry sky. The
chief room of the suite reserved for the king was the only cheerful
object his majesty had seen that day. A roaring bonfire of bulky logs
shed a flickering radiance on the tapestry that hung along the wall,
almost giving animation to the knights pictured thereon, sternly
battling against foes in anger, or merrily joisting with friends for
pleasure at some forgotten tournament.
The king, probably actuated by the military instincts of his race
urging him to get his bearings, even though he was in the care of a
friendly country, strode to one of the windows and looked out. Dark
as was the night and cloudy the sky, the landscape was nevertheless
etched into tolerable distinctness by the snow that had fallen, and
he saw far beneath him the depths of a profound valley, and what
appeared to be a town much lower than the one through which he had
just ridden. The stronghold appeared to stand on a platform of rock
which was at least impregnable from this side. James turned from
the wintry scene outside to the more alluring prospect within the
apartment. A stout oaken table in the centre of the room was weighted
with a sumptuous repast; and the king, with the stalwart appetite
of youth and health augmented by a tiresome journey in keen air,
forthwith fell to, and did ample justice to the providing of his
unknown host. The choicest vintages of France did something to dispel
that depression which had settled down upon him, and the outside glow
of the great fire supplemented the inward ardour of good wine.
The king drew up his cushioned chair to the blaze, and while his
attendants speedily cleared the board, a delicious drowsiness stole
over him. He was partially aroused from this by the entrance of his
poetical friend and confidant, Sir David Lyndsay.
"Your majesty," said the rhymster, "the constable of these towers
craves permission to pay his respects to you, extending a welcome on
behalf of his master, the King of France."
"Bring him in, Davie," cried James; "for in truth he has already
extended the most cordial of welcomes, and I desire to thank him for
my reception."
Shortly after Sir David Lyndsay ushered into the room a young man of
about the same age as the king, dressed in that superb and picturesque
costume which denoted a high noble of France, and which added the
lustre of fine raiment to the distinguished court of Francis the
First. The king greeted his visitor with that affability, which
invariably drew even the most surly toward him, without relaxing the
dignity which is supposed to be the heritage of a monarch.
"I am delighted to think," said the newcomer, "that the King of
Scotland has honoured my house by making it his first halting-place in
that realm which has ever been the friend of his country."
"Sir," replied James, "the obligation rests entirely upon me. After a
stormy voyage and an inclement land journey, the hospitality of your
board is one of the most grateful encounters I have ever met with. I
plead an ignorance of geography which is deplorable; and cannot in the
least guess where I am, beyond the fact that the boundaries of France
encompass me."
"I shall not pretend," said the young man, "that my house is unworthy
even of the distinguished guest which it now holds. Your majesty
stands within historic walls, for in an adjoining apartment was born
William, the founder of a great race of English kings. Scotchmen have
defended this castle, and Scotchmen have assaulted it, so its very
stones are linked with the fortunes of your country. Brave Henry the
Fifth of England captured it, and France took it from his successor.
My own family, like the Scotch, have both stood its guard and have
been the foremost through a breach to sack it. I am but now employed
in repairing the ravages of recent turmoil."
Here the King interrupted him, as if to mend the reputation of
ignorance he had bestowed upon himself.