woodlander!” cried the king, his stern voice ringing down again from the lofty rafters of the great hall. “Are there no deer in my forests of the north?”
“Deer in plenty, your majesty,” answered the fellow with a mixture of deference and disrespect, which in truth seemed to tinge the manners of all present. “There are deer in the king’s forest, and yet a lack of venison in the king’s larder!”
“What mean you by that, you scoundrel?” exclaimed the king, a flush overspreading his face, ruddy as his beard. “Have your marksmen lost their skill with bow and arrow, that you return destitute to the castle?”
“The marksmen are expert as ever, your majesty, and their arrows fly as unerringly to their billet, but in these rude times, your majesty, the sting of an arrow may not be followed by the whetting of a butcher’s knife.”
The king took an impatient step forward, then checked himself. One or two among the group of noblemen near the door laughed, and there was a ripple of suppressed merriment over the whole company. At first the frown on the king’s brow deepened, and then as suddenly it cleared away, as a puff of wind scatters the mist from the heights of Stirling. When the king spoke again it was in a calm, even voice. “As I understand you, there was no difficulty in capturing the deer, but you encountered some obstacle between the forest and Stirling which caused you to return empty-handed. I hope you have not added the occupation of itinerant flesher to the noble calling of forest huntsman?”
“Indeed, your majesty,” replied the unabashed hunter, “the profession of flesher was forced upon me. The deer we had slaughtered found it impossible to win by the gates of Arnprior.”
“Ah! John Buchanan then happened to need venison as you passed?”
“Your majesty has hit the gold there. Buchanan not only needed it but took it from us.”
“Did you inform him that your cargo was intended for the larder of the king?”
“I told him that in so many words, your majesty; and he replied that if James was king in Stirling, John was king in Kippen, and having the shorter name, he took the shorter method of supplying his kitchen.”
“Made you any effort to defend your gear?”
“Truth to say, your majesty, that were a useless trial. The huntsman who will face the deer thinks no shame to turn his back on the wild boar, and Buchanan, when he demanded your majesty’s venison, was well supported by a number of mad caterans with drawn swords in their hands, who had made up for a lack of good meat with a plentitude of strong drink. Resistance was futile, and we were fain to take the bannock that was handed to us, even though the ashes were upon it. Ronald of the Hills, a daft Heilan’man who knew no better, drew an arrow to his ear and would have pinned Buchanan to his own gate, resulting in the destruction of us all, had I not, with my stave, smote the weapon from his hand. Then the mad youth made such to-do that we had just to tie him up and bring him to Stirling on the horse’s back like a sack of fodder.”
“Your caution does credit to your Lowland breeding, Master huntsman, and the conduct of Ronald cannot be too severely condemned. Bring him here, I beg of you, that he may receive the king’s censure.”
Ronald was brought in, a wild, unkempt figure, his scanty dress disordered, bearing witness to the struggle in which he had but lately been engaged. His elbows were pinioned behind him, and his shock of red hair stood out like a heather broom. He scowled fiercely at the huntsman, and that cautious individual edged away from him, bound as he was.
“By my beard! as the men of the heathen East swear,” said the king, “his hair somewhat matches my own in hue. Ronald, what is the first duty of a huntsman?”
“He speaks only the Gaelic, your majesty,” explained the royal ranger.
“You have the Gaelic, MacNeish,” continued the king, addressing one of his train. “Expound to him, I beg of you, my question. What is the first duty of a huntsman?”
MacNeish, stepping forward, put the question in Gaelic and received Ronald’s reply.
“He says, your majesty, that a huntsman’s first duty is to kill the game he is sent for.”
“Quite right,” and the king nodded approval. “Ask him if he knows as well the second duty of a huntsman.”
Ronald’s eye flashed as he gave his answer with a vehemence that caused the chief huntsman to move still farther away from him.
“He says, your majesty,” translated MacNeish, “that the second duty of a huntsman is to cut the throat of any cateran who presumes to interfere with the progress of the provender from the forest to his master’s kitchen.”
“Right again,” cried the king, smiting his thigh, “and an answer worthy of all commendation. Tell him this, MacNeish, that hereafter he is the chief huntsman to the Castle of Stirling. We will place this cowardly hellion in the kitchen where he will be safe from the hungry frenzy of a Buchanan, drunk or sober.”
“But, your majesty—” protested the deposed ranger.
“To the kitchen with him!” sternly commanded the king. “Strip off the woodlander’s jacket he has disgraced and tie round him the strings of a scullion’s apron, which will suit his middle better than the belt of a sword.” Then the king, flashing forth his own weapon and stepping aside, swung it over the head of the Highlander, who stood like a statue in spite of the menace, and the sword came down with a deft accuracy which severed the binding cords without touching the person of the prisoner, freeing him at a stroke. A murmur of admiration at the dexterity of the king went up from the assemblage, every member of which was himself an expert with the weapon. The freed Highlander raised his brawny arms above his head and gave startling vent to the war-cry of his clan, “Loch Sloy! Loch Sloy!” unmindful of the presence in which he stood. Then he knelt swiftly and brought his lips to the buckle of the king’s shoe.
“Gratitude in a MacFarlane!” sneered MacNeish.
“Aye,” said the king, “and bravery too, for he never winked an eyelash when the sword swung above him; an admirable combination of qualities whether in a MacFarlane or a MacNeish. And now, gentlemen,” continued his majesty, “although the affair of the huntsman is settled, it brings us no nearer our venison. If the cook will not to the king, then must the king to the cook. Gentlemen, to your arms and your horses! They say a Scotsman fights well when he is hungry; let us put the proverb to the test. We ride and dine with his majesty of Kippen.”
A spontaneous cheer burst from every man in the great hall to the accompaniment of a rattle of swords. Most of those present were more anxious to follow the king to a contest than into a council chamber. When silence ensued, the mild voice of the archbishop, perhaps because it was due to his profession, put in a seasonable word; and the nobles scowled for they knew he had great influence with the king.
“Your majesty, if the Buchanans are drunk——”
“If they are drunk, my lord archbishop,” interrupted James, “we will sober them. ’Tis a duty even the Church owes to the inebriate.” And with that he led the way out of the hall, his reply clearing the brows of his followers.
A few minutes later a clattering cavalcade rode forth from the Castle of Stirling, through the town and down the path of Ballengeich, a score of soldiers bringing up the tail of the procession; and in due time the company came to the entrance
