having outstripped his comrades in their hunt of the deer. Evening was falling and James being some miles from Stirling Castle, raised his bugle to his lips to call together his scattered followers, but before a blast broke the stillness, his majesty was accosted by a woman who emerged suddenly and unnoticed from the forest on his left hand.
“My lord, the king;” she said, and her voice, like the sound of silver bells, thrilled with a note of inquiry.
“Yes, my lassie,” answered the young man, peering down at his questioner, lowering his bugle, and reining in his frightened horse, which was startled by the sudden apparition before him. The dusk had not yet so far thickened but the king could see that his interlocutor was young and strikingly beautiful. Although dressed in the garb of the lower orders, there was a quiet and imposing dignity in her demeanour as she stood there by the side of the road. Her head was uncovered, the shawl she wore over it having slipped down to her shoulders, and her abundant hair, unknotted and unribboned, was ruddy as spun gold. Her complexion was dazzlingly fair, her eyes of the deepest blue, and her features perfection, except that her small mouth showed a trifle too much firmness, a quality which her strong but finely moulded chin corroborated and emphasised. The king, ever a connoisseur of womanly loveliness, almost held his breath as he gazed down upon the comely face upturned to him.
“They told me at Stirling,” she said, “that you were hunting through this district, and I have been searching for you in the forest.”
“Good heavens, girl!” cried the king; “have you walked all the way from Stirling?”
“Aye, and much further. It is nothing, for I am accustomed to it. And now I crave a word with your majesty.”
“Surely, surely!” replied the king with enthusiasm, no thought of danger in this unconventional encounter even occurring to him. The natural prudence of James invariably deserted him where a pretty woman was concerned. Now, instead of summoning his train, he looked anxiously up and down the road listening for any sound of his men, but the stillness seemed to increase with the darkness, and the silence was profound, not even the rustle of a leaf disturbing it.
“And who, my girl, are you?” continued the king, noticing that her eyes followed his glance up and down the road with some trace of apprehension in them, and that she hesitated to speak.
“May it please your gracious majesty, I am humble tirewoman to that noble lady, Margaret Stuart, your honoured mother.”
The king gave a whistle of astonishment.
“My mother!” he exclaimed. “Then what in the name of Heaven are you doing here and alone, so far from Methven?”
“We came from Methven yesterday to her ladyship’s castle of Doune.”
“Then her ladyship must have come to a very sudden resolution to travel, for the constable of Doune is in my hunting-party, and I’ll swear he expected no visitors.”
“My gracious lady did not wish Stuart the constable to expect her, nor does she now desire his knowledge of her presence in the castle. She commanded me to ask your majesty to request the constable to remain in Stirling, where, she understands, he spends most of his time. She begs your majesty to come to her with all speed and secrecy.”
“I wonder what is wrong now?” mused the king. “I have not heard from her for nearly a year. She has quarrelled with her third husband, I suppose, for the Tudors are all daft where matrimony is concerned.”
“What does your majesty say?” asked the girl.
“I was speaking to myself rather than to you, but I may add that I am ready to go anywhere if you are to be my guide. Lend me your hand and spring up here behind me. We will gallop to Doune at once.”
The young woman drew back a step or two.
“No, no,” she said. “The Lady Margaret is most anxious that your visit should be unknown to any but herself, so she begs you to dismiss your followers and lay your commands upon Constable Stuart of Doune.”
“But my followers are all of them old enough to look after themselves,” objected the king, “and the constable is not likely to leave Stirling where he has remained these many months.”
“The Lady Margaret thought,” persisted the girl, “that if your retinue returned to Stirling and learned of your continued absence, anxiety would ensue, and a search might be undertaken that would extend to Doune.”
“How did my lady mother know I was hunting when you could not have learned of my excursion until you reached Stirling?” asked the king, with a glimmer of that caution which appeared to have deserted him.
The girl seemed somewhat nonplussed by the question, but she answered presently with quiet deliberation, —
“Her ladyship was much perturbed and feared I should not find you at the castle. She gave me various instructions, which she trusted I could accommodate to varying contingencies.”
“My girl,” said the king leaning towards her, “you do not speak like a serving-maid. What is your name?”
“I have been a gentlewoman, sire,” she answered simply, “but women, alas, cannot control their fortunes. My name is Catherine. I will now forward to Doune, and wait for you at the further side of the new bridge the tailor has built over the Teith. If you will secure your horse somewhere before coming to the river, and meet me there on foot, I will conduct you to the castle. Will you come?”
“Of a surety,” cried the king, in a tone that left no doubt of his intentions. “I shall overtake you long before you are at the bridge!” As he said this the girl fled away in the darkness, and then he raised his bugle to his lips and blew a blast that speedily brought answering calls.
James’s unexplained absences were so frequent that his announcement of an intention not to return home that night caused no surprise among his company; so, bidding him good-night, they cantered off towards Stirling, while he, unaccompanied, set his face to the north-west, and his spurs to the horse’s flanks, but his steed was already tired out and could not now keep pace with his impatience. To his disappointment, he did not overtake the girl, but found her waiting for him at the new bridge, and together they walked the short half mile to the castle. The young man was inclined to be conversational, but the girl made brief replies and finally besought his silence.
The night had proved exceedingly dark, and they were almost at the castle before its huge bulk loomed blackly before them. There was something so sinister in its dim, grim contour that for the first time since he set out on this night adventure, a suspicion that he was acting unwisely crossed the king’s mind.
Still, he meditated, it was his mother’s own castle, the constable of which was a warm friend of his – almost, as one might say, a relative, for Stuart was the younger brother of his mother’s husband, so what could be amiss with this visit?
“You are not taking me to the main entrance,” he whispered.
“No, to the postern door.”
“But the postern door is situated in the wall high above my reach; it is intended for the exit of a possible messenger during a siege and not for the entrance of a guest.”
“I am acting in accordance with my instructions,” replied the girl. “A rope ladder descends from the postern door.”
“A rope ladder! that sounds promising; will you ascend it?”
“Yes,
