Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower

by G. A. Henty

  Chapter 12: A Dangerous Mission.

  Half an hour later, Adam Armstrong came out of the cottage where hisson was lying. His mood had changed. He had gathered hope from MegMargetson's confident assurances that there was ground for it.

  "Now, let us talk of what had best be done, Oswald," he said, as he ledthe way into the next cottage, where the woman at once turned herchildren out, and cleared a room for him.

  "What force could you gather, Uncle?"

  "In my grandfather's time," he said, "two hundred Armstrongs, and theirfollowers, could gather in case of need; but the family was grievouslythinned, in the days when Edward carried fire and sword throughScotland; and for the last fifty years Roxburgh and these parts havebeen mostly under English rule, and in that time we have never gatheredas a family. Still, all my kin would, I know, take up this quarrel; andI should say that, in twelve hours, we could gather fifty or sixtystout fighting men.

  "But the Bairds would be expecting us, and can put, with the familiesallied to them and their retainers, nigh three hundred men under arms.Their hold is so strong a one that it took fifteen hundred Englishmen,under Umfraville, three weeks to capture it. It was destroyed then, butit is stronger now than ever.

  "Could we get aid from Roxburgh, think you?"

  "I fear not, Uncle. I know that the governor has strict orders not togive Douglas any pretext for invading us, and to hold his garrisontogether; since the earl may, at any moment, endeavour to capture thetown before help could arrive. And even were he to send four or fivehundred men, the Bairds could hold out for a fortnight, at least; andlong before this Douglas would be down, with an army, to his rescue.

  "I have been talking it over with my trusty companion, here, and heagrees with me that, unless a body of men-at-arms that would avail tocapture the fortalice by a sudden assault can be raised, we must trustto guile rather than force; and I propose that he and I shall, at once,start for the hold and see how matters stand, and where the prisonersare confined, and what hope there is of getting them free. I propose tosend my other man to Yardhope, to tell my father what has happened, andto ask him to warn his friends to be ready to cross the border, and tojoin any force you can gather for an attack on the Bairds. It is truethat stringent orders have been issued that there is to be no raidingin Scotland, but my father would not heed that for a moment. The attackthat has been made upon you, the killing of his wife's sister, thewounding of Allan, and carrying off of his nieces would be deemed, byhim, a grievance sufficient to justify his disregarding all orders.Besides which, he has the old grievance against the Bairds, which isall the more bitter since they led the Scots to attack Yardhope. I canguarantee that, when he gets word from you as to the day and place, hewill meet you there with at least a hundred spears. It is true that,with this force and that which you can bring, he could not hope tocapture the Bairds' hold; but together you could carry sword and firethrough his district, before he could gather a force to meet you in thefield."

  "I fear that would not do, Oswald. William Baird would be capable ofhanging the girls from the battlements, when the first fire was lit."

  Oswald was silent. From the tales he had heard of the ferocity of thesedreaded marauders, he felt that it was more than probable that hisuncle was right.

  "It seems to me," he said, after a pause, "that it were best for you tosend two men to Parton; which is, as I have heard, though I have neverbeen there, ten miles south of the Bairds'. Let them give the name ofJohnstone; and, at the tavern where they put up, say they expect arelative of the same name. As soon as I can find out how the affair hadbest be managed, I will give them instructions as to the plans Ipropose. One will carry them to you, and the other to my father. WillParton be a good place for you to join forces?"

  "As well as any other, Oswald. Your plan seems to me a good one. At anyrate, I can think of nothing better. My brain is deadened by thisterrible misfortune. Had I my own will, I would ride straight to theBairds' hold and challenge him and his brothers and sons to meet me,one after another, in fair combat; and should be well contented if Icould slay one or two of them, before being myself killed."

  "I can quite understand that, Uncle. But your death would be, in noway, an advantage to the girls; nay, would rather render them morehelpless, therefore I pray you to let me carry things out as I haveplanned."

  His uncle nodded.

  "I shall send out a dozen runners to my friends," he said, "and begthem to be here tomorrow morning, early. Then, when I have talkedmatters over with them, I shall ride to Roxburgh and lay the matterbefore the governor. I know that I shall get no help from him; but atleast, when he hears of a gathering here, he will know that 'tis withno evil intention against the English."

  Ten minutes later, Oswald's messenger started for Yardhope, with a fullaccount of the step he was taking, and of the arrangements that hadbeen made. This done, he had a long talk with Roger.

  "Now, Roger," he said, "this will be the most dangerous business inwhich we have been concerned; and I should not venture to undertake it,did I not know that I could rely, absolutely, upon you."

  "I will do my best, master, and will adventure my life all the morewillingly, since it is in the service of Allan and Janet Armstrong.They were always pleasant and friendly with me, at Yardhope, and I likethem for themselves, as well as because they are your cousins. Now,master, what is to be done?"

  "Have you your gown with you, Roger?"

  "No, master. I know you always told me to take it with me, thinkingthat it might come in useful, and I carried it under my saddle all thetime we were in Wales; but, seeing that this was but a ride to Jedburghand back, I thought that there would be no occasion for it."

  "That is unfortunate, Roger, for it is upon this that we must depend toget an entry into the Bairds' hold."

  "Well, master, I can doubtless get some rough cloth of the colour, atJedburgh; and indeed, there is a small monastery about three mileshence on the road, and it may be that, if Adam Armstrong will go withus and say wherefore it is wanted, the prior will let him have one."

  "I will see him at once. No time must be lost. While he is away, youmust shave your head again."

  Roger's face fell.

  "'Tis hard, master, after it has grown so well to match the rest.Still, for so good a purpose I must even give in."

  On hearing what was wanted, Armstrong mounted and rode off at once and,while he was away, one of the villagers shaved the top of Roger's headagain. In an hour, Armstrong brought back a monk's gown.

  "He was loath to let me have it even, for such a purpose, though I toldhim that you were once a monk of the order. Finally he said that hisconscience would not allow him to lend it, but that he would sell it tome for six pennies, which I gladly gave him."

  "It is dark now," Oswald said, "and I know not the road. Can you giveme some man to put me on the way? We will not make straight for theBairds', but will strike the road from Glasgow, some ten or twelvemiles north of his place, so that we can come down from that direction.Then our guide, after taking us on to the road, had best take charge ofthe horses and lead them to Parton, there to remain with them untilyour messenger, and the one from Yardhope, arrive. It would be as wellto have the horses there, for we cannot know what need we may have ofthem."

  "That I will arrange at once, Oswald. Is there aught else?"

  "Yes, Uncle, I must leave my armour and clothes here, and borrow othersthat will pass as a disguise."

  "How would you go, Oswald?"

  "In truth, it is a difficult matter. That of a minstrel would be thebest passport, but I know nought of harp or other instrument. I mightgo as a vendor of philters and charms, a sort of half-witted chap,whose mother concocted such things."

  "They would never let you into the Bairds' castle, Oswald."

  "Then I must be a rough man-at-arms, one who had been in the service ofthe Earl of March; and who, when he turned traitor and went over to theEnglish, found himself without employment; and asked nothing betterthan to enter the serv
ice of someone who will give him bread and meat,in return for any services that he can render, whether in hunting upany cattle among the hills, or striking a shrewd blow in the service ofhis employer, if needs be."

  "That must do, if we can think of nothing better, Oswald. I willspeedily bring you the things you require, as they will be found inevery house in the village; and some, alas! will be needed no more bythose who wore them."

  "They must be of good size, Uncle."

  "Ay, ay, lad. There must have been some tall fellows, among those theyslew today."

  Half an hour later, Roger and Oswald mounted. His uncle sent two of hismen with them, saying that it would look strange were one man to come,with two horses, to Parton; but that two, saying that their masterswould follow, would seem a more probable tale.

  "They will, if they can, find some quiet farmhouse a mile out of thevillage, and there get lodgings for themselves and beasts. You canarrange with them to take up their station on the road, so that youcan, if needs be, find them."

  It was with a sigh that Roger flung himself into the saddle. It was notthe horse on which he had ridden there, but a strong, shaggy pony.

  "He does not look much," one of the men said, "but there is no betterhorse, of the sort, in the country. He has both speed and bottom, andcan carry you up or down hill, and is as sure-footed as a goat."

  Roger had assented to the change, for his own horse was as unlike onethat a monk would have bestrode as could be well imagined. He hadobtained a stout staff, to which the village smith had added two orthree iron rings at each end, rendering it a formidable weapon, indeed,in such hands.

  "It reminds me of our start for Dunbar, master," he said. "One mighthave a worse weapon than this;" and he swung it round his head, inquarterstaff fashion; "still, I prefer a mace."

  "That staff will do just as well, Roger. A man would need a hard skull,indeed, to require more than one blow from such a weapon."

  Now that Adam Armstrong had done all that there was to do, he wentagain to the cottage where Allan lay. He had paid several visits there,in the afternoon; but there was nought for him to do, and no comfort tobe gained from the white face of the insensible lad. Meg assured him,however, that he was going on as well as could be expected.

  "He is in a torpor, at present," she said; "and may so lie for two orthree days; but so long as there is no fever he will, I hope, know youwhen he opens his eyes. There is nought to do but to keep wet clothsround his head, and to put on a fresh poultice over the wound, everyhour."

  Now Armstrong took his place by his son's pallet. For a time, the workof making preparations for Oswald's departure, and of sending offmessages to his friends, had prevented his thoughts from dwelling uponhis loss. Throughout the night, the picture of his home, as he had leftit when he rode out that morning; and the thought that it was now anempty shell, his wife dead, his daughters carried off, and his sonlying between life and death, came to him with full force, and wellnigh broke him down.

  In the meantime, the little party were making across the hills, andbefore morning they came upon the northern road, fifteen miles from theBairds' hold. Here Oswald and Roger dismounted. It was arranged thatthe men should return with the horses into the hills, and should thererest until late in the afternoon, and then mount and ride for Parton.One or other of them was to come down, at seven o'clock each evening,to the road half a mile from the village; and was there to watch tillnine. If no one came along, they were then to return to their lodging.

  "I feel stiff in the legs, master," Roger said; "a fifty-mile ride, upand down the hills, is no joke after a hard day's work."

  "They will soon come right again, Roger. I feel stiff, myself, thoughpretty well accustomed to horse exercise. However, when we presentourselves at the hold, dusty and footsore, we shall look our charactersthoroughly."

  Neither were sorry when they arrived at a small village, a quarter of amile from the Bairds' hold. They went in together to the little alehouse, and vigorously attacked the rough fare set before them.

  "Hast thou travelled far?" their host asked, as he watched them eating.

  "Indifferently far," the monk said: "'tis five-and-twenty miles henceto Moffat, and it would have seemed farther to me, had not this goodfellow overtaken me, and fell in with my pace. He is good company,though monkish gowns have but little in common with steel pot andbroadsword; but his talk, and his songs, lightened the way."

  "Whither are you going, father?"

  "I am making my way to Carlisle," he said. "I have a brother who isprior in a small monastery, there, and it is long since I have seenhim. Who lives at the stronghold I saw on the hills, but a shortdistance away?"

  "It is the hold of William Baird, the head of that family; of whom,doubtless, you may have heard."

  "I have heard his name, as that of a noted raider across the border,"the monk said; "a fierce man, and a bold one. Has he regard for thechurch? If so, I would gladly take up my abode there, for a day or two;for in truth I am wearied out, it being some years since my feet havecarried me so long a journey."

  "As to that, I say nothing," the host said. "It would depend on hishumour whether he took you in, or shut the gates in your face withoutceremony; but methinks, at present, the latter were more likely thanthe former; for his hold is full of armed men, and I should say it werewisest to leave him alone, even if you had but the bare moor to sleepupon."

  "Nevertheless, I can but try," the monk said. "He may be in one ofthose good tempers you spoke of. And I suppose he has also a priest, inhis fortalice?"

  "Ay, the Bairds are not--but I would rather not talk of them. They arenear neighbours, and among my very best customers."

  As he spoke, four armed men came in at the door.

  "Good day, Wilson! Whom have you here? An ill-assorted couple, surely.A monk, though a somewhat rough one, and a man-at-arms."

  "Fellow travellers of a day," Roger said calmly. "We met on the road,and as I love not solitude, having enough and to spare of it, Iaccosted him. He turned out a good companion."

  "You are a man of sinew yourself, monk, and methinks that you wouldhave made a better soldier than a shaveling."

  "I thought so sometime, myself," the monk said; "but my parents thoughtotherwise, and it is too late to take up another vocation, now."

  "Is that staff yours?" the soldier asked, taking it up, and handlingit.

  "Yes, my son. In these days even a quiet religious man, like myself,may meet with rough fellows by the way; and while that staff givessupport to my feet, it is an aid to command decent behaviour from thoseI fall in with. I have not much to lose, having with me but sufficientto buy me victuals for my journey to Carlisle; where, as I have justtold our host, I am journeying to see a brother, who is prior at aconvent there."

  "This fellow--where did you fall in with him?"

  "He overtook me some twenty miles north, on the road to Glasgow."

  "And are you travelling to Carlisle, too?" the man said to Oswald.

  "Nay," he said, "I purpose not going beyond the border. I have lost myemployment, and have tried, in vain, to find another as much to myliking. I have come south to seek service, with one who will welcome astrong arm to wield a sword."

  "Hast tried the Douglas?"

  "No," he said, "the Douglas has men enough of his own, and methinks Ishould not care to be mewed up in one of his castles. I have had enoughof that already, seeing that I was a man-at-arms with George Dunbar,till he turned traitor and went over to the English."

  "You look a likely fellow; but, you know, we do not pay men, here, todo our fighting for us. 'Tis all very well for great nobles, likeDunbar and Douglas, to keep men always in arms, and ready to ride, at amoment's notice, to carry fire and sword where they will. War is notour business, save when there is trouble in the air, or mayhap we runshort of cattle or horses, and have to go and fetch them from acrossthe border. It is true that there are always a score or two of us upthere, for somehow the Bairds have enemies, but most of the followersof the h
ouse live on their holdings, raise cattle and mountain sheep,grow oats, and live as best they can."

  "For myself, I would rather live with others," Oswald said. "I am usedto it, and to live in a hut on the moors would in no way be to myfancy; and if I cannot get a place where I have comrades to talk to,and crack a joke with, I would rather cross the seas, take service withan Irish chieftain, or travel to Wales, where I hear men say there isfighting."

  "You need not go very far, if it is fighting that you want," the mansaid. "Those who ride with the Bairds have their share, and more, ofit. If you like to stop here a day or two, I will take an opportunityto talk to William Baird, or to one of his sons, if I find a chance;but I cannot take you up there, now. At the best of times they are notfond of visitors, and would be less so than usual, now."

  Other armed men had come in, while the conversation was going on. Nofurther attention was paid to the travellers. The others, sitting downat a table across the room, talked among themselves.

  "I care not for the work," one said presently, raising his voice to ahigher pitch than that in which the others had spoken. "Across theborder, I am as ready for work as another; but when it comes to Scotagainst Scot, I like it not."

  "Why, man," another said, "what qualms are these? Isn't Scot alwaysfighting against Scot? Ay, and has been so, as far back as one has everheard. It does not take much for a Douglas or a Dunbar to get tologgerheads; and as to the wild clans of the north, they are alwaysfighting among themselves."

  "Yes, that is all very well," the other said, "and there is no reasonwhy neighbours should not quarrel, here; but I would rather that theyeach summoned their friends, and met in fair fight and had it out, thanthat one should pounce upon the other when not expected, and slay andburn unopposed."

  "Ay, ay," two or three others of the men agreed. "It were doubtlessbetter so, when it is Scot against Scot."

  "'Tis border fashion," another put in. "There is no law on the border,and we fight in our own fashion. Today it is our turn, tomorrow it maybe someone else's. We follow our chiefs, just as the northern clansmendo; and whether it is a Musgrave or a Baird, a Fenwick or an Armstrong,he is chief in his own hold, and cares neither for king nor earl, butfights out his quarrel as it may please him. I am one of WilliamBaird's men, and his quarrel is mine; and whether we ride against theKing of Scotland or the King of England, against a Douglas or a Percy,an Armstrong or a Musgrave, it matters not the value of a stoup ofale."

  "That is so, Nigel, and so say we all. But methinks that one may have apreference for one sort of fighting over another; and I, myself, wouldrather fight a matter out, man against man, than fall suddenly on ahold, where none are ready to encounter us."

  Roger, during a pause in the conversation at the other table, got upfrom his seat and stretched himself.

  "Well, friend," he said to Oswald, "I will go up and see if they willmake me welcome, at the hold. If they do, I may see you no more. Ifnot, I shall return here to sleep. Therefore I bid you good day, andhope that you may find such service as will suit you. Benedicite!"

  And, paying for his refreshment, Roger took his staff from the corner,and went out.

  "A hearty fellow, and a stalwart one," the man who had spoken to himsaid. "I should not care to have a crack over the crown, with thatstaff of his. You met him coming down from the north, comrade?"

  "Yes, some twenty miles away. It was near Moffat that I overtook him. Iwould rather drink with him than fight with him. Seldom have I seen astronger-looking man."

  "I am of your opinion, comrade; and some of these monks are not badfighters, either. There have been bishops who have led the monks tobattle, before now, and they proved themselves stout men-at-arms."

  After the others had gone out, Oswald strolled through the village, andthen mounted an eminence whence he could take a view across the valley,and of some of the hilltops to the northeast. On one of these, twomiles away, he could make out a man standing by a horse. He watched himfor some little time, but beyond taking a few steps backwards andforwards, the man did not move.

  "He is a lookout," he said to himself, "and is no doubt watching someroad from Kelso and Jedburgh. Baird will hardly think that theArmstrongs can have so soon gathered a force sufficient to attack him,but he may have thought it as well to place one of his men on thewatch.

  "I wonder how Roger is getting on! I think they must have taken him in,or he would have been back before this."

  Roger had walked quietly up the hill on which the Bairds' hold wasperched. A man stepped forward from the gate, as he neared it.

  "None enter here," he said, "without permission from the master."

  "Will you tell him that a poor monk, of the order of Saint Benedict, onhis way from his convent at Dunbar to one near Carlisle, of which hisbrother is prior, prays hospitality for a day or two, seeing that he isworn out by long travel?"

  The sentry spoke to a man behind him, and the latter took the messageto William Baird. The latter was in a good humour. He himself had nottaken part in the raid on the Armstrongs, which had been led by ThomasBaird, a cousin; but the fact that the latter had been entirelysuccessful, and had burned down Armstrong's house, and brought back hisdaughters, had given him the greatest satisfaction. There was along-standing feud between the two families, and the fact that theArmstrongs were on good terms with their English neighbours, and stillmore that one of them had married the sister-in-law of a Forster ofYardhope, had greatly embittered the feeling, on his side. He had longmeditated striking a blow at them, and the present time had beenexceptionally favourable.

  Douglas had his hands full. He was on ill terms with Rothesay, whoseconduct to his daughter had deeply offended him. The newly-acquiredland of the Earl of March gave him much trouble. He was jealous of thegreat influence of Albany, at court; and was, moreover, makingpreparations for a serious raid into England. It was not likely, then,that he would pay any attention to the complaints the Armstrongs mightmake, of any attack upon them; especially as their aid was of small useto him, while the Bairds could, at any moment, join him, in an invasionacross the border, with three hundred good fighting men.

  William Baird had not, as yet, even considered what he should do withhis captives. He might give them in marriage to some of the younger menof his family, or he might hold them as hostages. As to injuring thempersonally, he did not think of it. Slaughter in a raid was lightlyregarded, but to ill-treat female prisoners would arouse a generalfeeling of dissatisfaction along the border. Reprisals might be made bythe Armstrongs and their friends, and in any case, there would be suchwidespread reprobation excited, as William Baird, reckless as he was,could hardly afford to despise.

  Therefore, when Roger's request was brought to him, he said at once:

  "Take him up to Father Kenelm. Tell him to look after the monk'scomfort. This evening he can bring him down to the hall, and I willquestion him as to his journey."

  Roger followed the man through the courtyard. He paid, apparently, noattention to what was going on there, but a quick glance enabled him toperceive that the hold was full of men. He followed his guide up awinding stair, to a turret on the wall, the lower story of which wasinhabited by the priest.

  The soldier knocked at the door, and on its being opened by the priest,he gave Baird's message to him. He was a tall man, spare and bony. Hehimself was a Baird, and report said that, in his youth, he had riddenon many a foray in England. But fighting men were common in the family,and it had been thought well that one should enter the church, as itwas always good to have a friend who could represent them there and,should any complaint be made, explain matters, and show that the familywere in no wise to blame. And moreover, as it was necessary to have apriest at the chief fortalice of the family, it was best that it shouldbe one who would not be too strict in his penances, and could beconveniently silent as to the doings within its walls.

  The priest had accepted the role not unwillingly. He was an ambitiousman, and saw that, as one of the fighting Bairds, there was but smallop
portunity of rising to aught beyond the command of one of the holds.Douglas regarded them with no friendly eye, for their breaches of thetruces brought upon him constant complaints from the English wardens,who might, some day or other, lead a force to punish the family, whichhad been one of the few exempted from the general pardon, at the lasttruce. As a priest he would have better opportunities, for the Bairdshad much influence along the border; and might, some day or other,exert it in his favour.

  So far, no such opportunity had occurred. It had been a disappointmentto him that Henry, in his last invasion, had kept along the easterncoast; and he hoped that the war, which assuredly would, ere long,break out violently, would give him the chance he longed for; and hemight be sent by his uncle to Douglas, with offers of service, or mighteven go north, and have an interview with Albany.

  Once fairly away from Liddesdale, he was resolved that it would be along time, indeed, before he returned. He was now some thirty years ofage, with a hard, keen face.

  "Well, brother," he said, "it is not often that any of your ordersojourn here. I am glad to have one with whom I can converse, of othermatters than arms and armour, forays and wars."

  "These matters are, indeed, too much in men's mouths," Roger said;"though I own that I, myself, in some degree am interested in them;for, had I had the choice of a vocation, I would rather have been aman-at-arms than a monk."

  "I wonder not at that," the other said, "seeing that nature has beenbountiful to you, in the matter of height and strength; and I doubt notthat you could, in case of need, use that staff you carry with goodeffect."

  "Methinks that I might do so, but happily none have molested me on myway, seeing perhaps that my wallet was not likely to be a full one; andthat, mayhap, it was hardly worthwhile to meddle with me, with so smalla prospect of plunder."

  "But come in, and sit down," the priest said. "My uncle has consignedyou to my care. We shall sup in half an hour."

  "I shall not be sorry," Roger replied, "for though I broke my fast onblack bread and small beer, down in the village, 'tis but poornourishment for a man who has travelled far, and who has a large frameto support."

  "But how come you to be here?"

  Roger again repeated his story.

  "It would have been shorter for you to have travelled down throughBerwick, brother."

  "The difference was not great," Roger replied; "and I had to carry amessage to Edinburgh, and from there it was shorter to keep west of thePentlands, and come down to Lanark, and thence through Moffat."

  "Yes, I suppose it is as short. And you had no trouble on your way?"

  Roger shook his head.

  "No; I generally join some traveller or other, and that makes thejourney pass all the quicker. I came down here today with a stout youngfellow, who overtook me this side of Moffat. He was somewhat out atelbow, and I looked askance at him at first; but he turned out a blithecompanion, and we got on well together. He could troll a good song, andmy own voice is not wanting in power. It was curious that he also wasfrom Dunbar, though not immediately; having, it would seem, wanderedfor some time, on the lookout for service."

  "What was he, a cattle drover?"

  "No, he had been a man-at-arms, of George of Dunbar--at least, so Iunderstood--and when the earl fled, and Douglas took possession ofDunbar, he lost his living. He told me that he had made his way downhere in hopes of finding employment on the border, where blows werecommon, and a good blade was of more use than it was farther north. Isaid that he might have found employment under Albany, or under someother great lord; but he said that he had seen the Earl of March afugitive, and that he cared not to enter the service of another noble,who might, in turn, be ousted from his place and lose his life; but asfor Albany, he thought, from what he heard, that he would rather servehim than any other master.

  "I said, 'Why not Rothesay, who would be King of Scotland?'

  "He laughed lightly, and said as Rothesay had managed to get upon illfriendship, not only with the Earl of March but with Douglas, and, ashe heard, with Albany, he thought that his chances of becoming King ofScotland were not worth considering."

  "He must be a bold varlet, thus to speak irreverently of great ones."

  "I think not that he was bold," Roger said, "but only a merry,thoughtless young fellow, who in such company as mine let his tongueloose, and said what first came into his head. As to the matter,methought he spoke not without warrant."

  "And he came from the north, now?"

  "I know not whence he came last, but I think that he was at Edinburgh,and had taken service there, when the English king sat down before it;but, as you know, nought came of the siege."

  At this moment a horn blew.

  "There is supper," the priest said. "We will go down."

  The meal was laid in the hall; which, however, was not large enough tocontain more than the ordinary retainers of the hold. These, and themen who had come in at the summons of Baird, were provided for in thecourtyard, the table being occupied entirely by members of the Bairdfamily, and others who always acted with them. These had not yet takentheir seats, when the priest entered with his companion, whom he atonce took up to Sir William Baird.

  "By Saint Andrew! Monk, I have seen no finer figure, for many a day. Apity that a monk's gown should clothe such limbs as yours."

  "That has always been mine own opinion," Roger said, with a heartinessthat raised a smile on the hard faces of the men standing round.

  "You look as if you had carried arms."

  "I did so, in my wild youth," Roger said, "and had no thought of everdonning monk's hood; but I was grievously wounded, in a foray inNorthumberland, and when I reached my home at Lauder, I well nigh diedof the fever of the wound; and I swore that, if my life was saved, Iwould become a monk. I got well, and I kept my vow; but methinks, had Ibut known how dull the life was, I would rather have died of thefever."

  As this story was perfectly true, save the name of his birthplace,Roger spoke so heartily that no one doubted his story.

  "And your monastery is at Dunbar?

  "You have been at Dunbar, Rotherglen. Ask him where the convent stood."

  As Roger had stayed there, when with Oswald he was at Dunbar, he wasable to answer this, and other questions, satisfactorily. The partythen took their places at table, the priest and Roger sitting at thebottom of it. The conversation at the upper end naturally turned on theforay, and a general disbelief was expressed, as to the chance of theArmstrongs retaliating.

  "'Tis out of the question," one of the Bairds said, "they could notraise fifty men. Doubtless they will send a complaint to Douglas, buthe has his hands well full; and is not likely to quarrel with us aboutsuch a trifle, when he may want our aid, at any moment, either againstAlbany or against the English."

  "What do you intend to do with the girls?"

  "I have not settled yet," William Baird said, shortly. "At any rate,for the present I shall hold them as hostages. I don't think thatanything is likely to come of the affair; but if we should hear of anyforce approaching, likely to give us trouble, we could send word tothem that, if an arrow is loosened at our walls, we will hang the girlsout as marks for their archers. I fancy that will send them troopingoff again, at once."

  As soon as the meal was over, and the carousal began, the priest roseand, accompanied by Roger, retired to his chamber.