THE AMBASSADOR OF FRANCE
The Earl had almost arrived at the pavilion erected at the southern
end of the jousting meadow, when a gust of cheering borne along the
lines announced the arrival of a belated company. The young man
glanced northward with intent to discover, by their pennons, who his
visitors might be. But the distance was too great, and identification
was made more difficult by the swarming of the populace round the
newcomers. So, being unable to make the matter out, Earl William
despatched his brother David to bring him word of their quality.
Presently, however, and before David Douglas' return, shouts of
"Avondale, Avondale!" from the men of Lanarkshire informed the young
Earl of the name of one at least of those who had arrived. A frown so
quick and angry darkened his brow that it showed the consideration in
which the Douglas held his granduncle James the Gross, Earl of
Avondale.
"I hope, at least," he said in a low voice to Malise, who stood half a
step behind him, "that my cousins Will and James have come with him.
They are good metal for a tourney, and worth breaking a lance with."
By this time the banners of the visitors were discernible crossing the
fords of Lochar, while high advanced above all private pennons two
standards could be seen, the banner royal of Scotland, and close
beside the rampant lion the white lilies of France.
"Saint Bride!" cried the Earl, "have they brought the King of Scots to
visit me? His Majesty had been better at his horn-book, or playing
ball in the tennis court of Stirling."
Then came David back, riding swiftly on his fine dark chestnut, which,
being free from the mantle wherein the horses of knights were swathed,
and having its mane and tail left long, made a gallant show as the lad
threw it almost on its haunches in his boyish pride of horsemanship.
"William," said David Douglas, "a word in your ear, brother. The whole
tribe are here,--fat Jamie and all his clan."
The brothers conferred a little apart, for in those troubled times men
learned caution early, and though the Douglas was the greatest lord in
Scotland, yet, surrounded by meaner men as he was, it behoved him to
be jealous and careful of his life and honour.
Earl Douglas came out of the sparred enclosure of the tilt-ring in
order to receive his guests.
First, as an escort to the ambassador royal of France and Scotland who
came behind, rode the Earl of Avondale and his five sons, noble young
men, and most unlikely to have sprung from such a stock. James the
Gross rode a broad Clydesdale mare, a short, soft unwieldy man,
sitting squat on the saddle like a toad astride a roof, and glancing
slily sideways out of the pursy recesses of his eyes.
Behind him came his eldest son William, a man of a true Douglas
countenance, quick, high, and stern. Then followed James, whose lithe
body and wonderful dexterity in arms were already winning him repute
as one of the bravest knights in all Christendom in every military and
manly exercise.
Behind the Avondale Douglases rode two men abreast, with a lady on a
palfrey between them.
The first to take the eye, both by his stature and his remarkable
appearance, rode upon a charger covered from head to tail in the
gorgeous red-and-gold diamonded trappings pertaining to a marshal of
France. He was in complete armour, and wore his visor down. A long
blue feather floated from his helmet, falling almost upon the flank of
his horse; a truncheon of gold and black was at his side. A pace
behind him the lilies of France were displayed, floating out languidly
from a black and white banner staff held in the hands of a young
squire.
The knight behind whom the banner royal of Scotland fluttered was a
man of different mould. His spare frame seemed buried in the suit of
armour that he wore somewhat awkwardly. His pale ascetic countenance
looked more in place in a monkish cloister than on a knightly tilting
ground, and he glanced this way and that with the swift and furtive
suspicion of one who, while setting one trap, fears to be taken in
another.
But the lady who rode on a white palfrey between these two took all
men's regard, even in the presence of a marshal of France and a herald
extraordinary of the King of Scots.
The Earl Douglas, having let his eyes once rest upon her, could not
again remove them, being, as it were, fixed by the very greatness of
the wonder which he saw.
It was the lady of the pavilion underneath the pines, the lady of the
evening light and of the midnight storm.
She was no longer clothed in simple white, but arrayed like a king's
daughter. On her head was a high-peaked coiffure, from which there
flowed down a graceful cloud of finest lace. This, even as the Earl
looked at her, she caught at with a bewitching gesture, and brought
down over her shoulder with her gloved hand. A close-fitting robe of
palest blue outlined the perfections of her body. A single
fleur-de-lys in gold was embroidered on the breast of her white
bodice, and the same device appeared again and again on the white
housing of her palfrey.
She sat in the saddle, gently smiling, and looking down with a
sweetness which was either the perfection of finished coquetry or the
expression of the finest natural modesty.
Strangely enough, the first thought which came to the Earl Douglas
after his surprise was one in which triumph was blended with mirth.
"What will the Abbot and Malise think of this?" he said, half aloud.
And he turned him about in order to look upon the face of his master
armourer.
He found Malise MacKim ashen-pale and drawn of countenance, his mouth
open and squared with wonder. His jaw was fallen slack, and his hands
gripped one upon the other like those of a suppliant praying to the
saints.
The Earl smiled, and bidding Malise unlace his helmet in compliment to
his guests, he stood presently bareheaded before them, his head
appearing above the blackness of his armour, bright as a flower with
youth and instinct with all the fiery beauty of his race.
It was James the Gross who came forward to act as herald. "My
well-beloved nephew," he began in somewhat whining tones, "I bring you
two royal embassies, one from the King of France and the other from
the King of Scotland. I have the honour to present to you the Marshal
Gilles de Retz, ambassador of the most Christian King, Charles the
Seventh, who will presently deliver his master's message to you."
The marshal, who till now had kept his visor down, slowly raised it,
and revealed a face which, being once seen, could never afterwards be
banished from the memory.
It was a large grey-white countenance, with high cheek-bones and
colourless lips, which were continually working one upon the other.
Black eyes were set close together under heavy brows, and a long thin
nose curved between them like the beak of an unclean bird.
"Earl William," said the marshal, "I give you greeting in the name of
our common liege lord, Charles, King of France, and also in that of
his son, the Dauphin Louis. I bring you also a further token of their
good-will, in that I hail you heir to the great estates and dignities
of your father and grandfather, sometime Dukes of Touraine and vassals
premier of the King of France."
The young man bowed, but in spite of the interest of his message, the
marshal caught his eyes resting upon the face of the lady who rode
beside him.
"To this I add that which, save for the message of the King, my
master, ought fitly to have come first. I present you to this fair
lady, my sister-in-law, the Damosel Sybilla de Thouars, maid of honour
to your high princess Margaret of Scotland, who of late hath expanded
into a yet fairer flower under the sun of our land of France."
The Earl dismounted and threw the reins of his horse to Malise, whose
face wore an expression of bitterest disappointment and instinctive
hatred. Then he went to the side of the Lady Sybilla, and taking her
hand he bowed his head over it, touching the glove to his lips with
every token of respect. Still bareheaded, he took the reins of her
palfrey and led her to the stand reserved for the Queen of Beauty.
Here the Earl invited her to dismount and occupy the central seat.
"Till your arrival it lacked an occupant, saving my little sister; but
to-day the gods have been good to the house of Douglas, and for the
first time since the death of my father I see it filled."
Smilingly the lady consented, and with a wave of his hand the Earl
William invited the Marshal de Retz to take the place on the other
side of the Lady Sybilla.
Then turning haughtily to the herald of the King of Scots, who had
been standing alone, he said:--
"And now, sir, what would you with the Earl Douglas?"
The ascetic, monkish man found his words with little loss of time,
showing, however, no resentment for Earl William's neglect of any
reverence to the banner under whose protection he came.
"I am Sir James Irving of Drum," he said, "and I stand here on behalf
of Sir Alexander Livingston, tutor and guardian of the King of Scots,
to invite your friendship and aid. The Lord Crichton, sometime
Chancellor of this realm, hath rebelled against the royal authority
and fortified him in Edinburgh Castle. So both Sir Alexander
Livingston and the most noble lady, the Queen Mother, desire the
assistance of the great power of the Earl of Douglas to suppress this
revolt."
Scarcely had these words been uttered when another knight stepped
forward out of the train which had followed the Earl of Avondale.
"I am here on behalf of the Chancellor of Scotland, who is no rebel
against any right authority, but who wishes only to bring this
distracted realm back into some assured peace, and to deliver the
young King out of the hands of flatterers and lechers. I have the
honour, therefore, of requesting on behalf of the Chancellor of
Scotland, Sir William Crichton, the true representative of royal
authority, the aid and alliance of my Lord of Douglas."
A smile of haughty contempt passed over the face of the Earl, and he
dismissed both heralds, uttering in the hearing of all those words
which afterwards became so famous over Scotland:
"Let dog eat dog! Wherefore should the lion care?"