Two Penniless Princesses by Charlotte M. Yonge (the two towers ebook TXT) 📖

Suffolk sat on his horse, tall, upright, and angry. ‘What is this I hear, Sir Patrick Drummond,’ said he, ‘that your miscreants of wild Scots have been thieving from the peaceful peasant-folk, and then beating them and murdering them? I deemed you were a better man than to stand by such deeds and not give up the fellows to justice.’

‘It were shame to hang a man for one goose,’ said Sir Patrick.

‘All plunder is worthy of death,’ returned the Englishman. ‘Your Border law may be otherwise, but ‘tis not our English rule of honest men. And here’s this other great lurdane knave been striking the poor rogues down right and left! A halter fits both.’

‘My Lord, they are no subjects of England. I deny your rights over them.’

‘Whoever rides in my train is under me, I would have you to know, sir.’

‘Hark ye, my Lord of Suffolk,’ said Sir Patrick, coming near enough to speak in an undertone, ‘that lurdane, as you call him, is heir of a noble house in Scotland, come here on a young man’s freak of chivalry. You will do no service to the peace of the realms if you give him up to these churls, for making in to save his servant.’

Before Sir Patrick had done speaking, while Suffolk was frowning grimly in perplexity, a wild figure, with blood on the face, rushed forth with a limping run, crying ‘Let the loons hang me and welcome, if they set such store by their lean old gander, but they shanna lay a finger on the Master.’

And he had nearly precipitated himself into the hands of the sturdy rustics, who shouted with exultation, but with two strides Geordie caught him up. ‘Peace, Ringan! They shall no more hang thee than me,’ and he stood with one hand on Ringan’s shoulder and his sword in the other, looking defiant.

‘If he be a young gentleman masking, I am not bound to know it,’ said Suffolk impatiently to Drummond; ‘but if he will give up that rascal, and make compensation, I will overlook it.’

‘Who touches my fellow does so at his peril,’ shouted George, menacing with his sword.

‘Peace, young man!’ said Sir Patrick. ‘Look here, my Lord of Suffolk, we Scots are none of your men. We need no favour of you English with our allies. There be enough of us to make our way through these peasants to the French border, so unless you let us settle the matter with a few crowns to these rascallions, we part company.’

‘The ladies were entrusted to my charge,’ began Lord Suffolk.

At that instant, however, both Jean and Eleanor came on the scene, riding fast, having in truth been summoned by Malcolm, who shrewdly suspected that thus an outbreak might be best averted.

It was Eleanor who spoke first. In spite of all her shyness, when her blood was up, she was all the princess.

What is this, my Lord of Suffolk?’ she said. ‘If one of our following have transgressed, it is the part of ourselves and of Sir Patrick Drummond to see to it, as representing the King my brother.’

‘Lady,’ replied Suffolk, bowing low and doffing his cap, ‘yonder ill-nurtured knave hath been robbing the country-folk, and the—the man-at-arms there not only refuses to give him up to justice, but has hurt, well-nigh slain, some of them in violently taking him from them. They ride in my train and I am responsible.’

Jean broke in: ‘He only served the cowardly loons right. A whole crowd of the rogues to hang one poor laddie for one goose! Shame on a gentleman for hearkening to the foul-mouthed villains one moment. Come here, Ringan. King Jamie’s sister will never see them harm thee.’

Perhaps Suffolk was not sorry to see a way out of the perplexity. ‘Far be it from a knight to refuse a boon to a fair lady in her selle, farther still to two royal damsels. The lives are granted, so satisfaction in coin be made to yon clamorous hinds.’

‘I do not call it a boon but a right, said Eleanor gravely; ‘nevertheless I thank you, my Lord Marquis.’

George would have thrown himself at their feet, but Jean coldly said, ‘Spare thanks, sir. It was for my brother’s right,’ and she turned her horse away, and rode off at speed, while Eleanor could not help pausing to say, ‘She is more blithe than she lists to own! Sir Patrick, what the fellows claim must come from my uncle’s travelling purse.’

George’s face was red. This was very bitter to him, but he could only say, ‘It shall be repaid so soon as I have the power.’

The peasants meanwhile were trying to make the best bargain they could by representing that they were tenants of an abbey, so that the death of the gander was sacrilegious on that account as well as because it was in Lent. To this, however, Sir Patrick turned a deaf ear: he threw them a couple of gold pieces, with which, as he told them, they were much better off than with either the live goose or the dead Ringan.

Suffolk had halted for the mid-day rest and was waiting for him till this matter was disposed of. ‘Sir Patrick Drummond,’ he said with some ceremony, ‘this company of yours may be Scottish subjects, but while they are riding with me I am answerable for them. It may be the wont in Scotland, but it is not with us English, to let unnamed adventurers ride under our banner.’

‘The young man is not unnamed,’ said Sir Patrick, on his mettle.

‘You know him?’

‘I’ll no say, but I have an inkling. My son David kenn’d him and answered for him when he joined himself to my following; nor has he hitherto done aught to discredit himself.’

‘What is his name, or the name he goes by?’

‘George Douglas.’

‘H’m! Your Scottish names may belong to any one, from your earls down to your herdboys; and they, forsooth, are as like as not to call themselves gentlemen.’

‘And wherefore not, if theirs is gentle blood?’ said Sir Patrick.

‘Nay, now, Sir Patrick, stand not on your Scotch pride. Gentlemen all, if you will, but you gave me to understand that this was none of your barefoot gentlemen, and I ask if you can tell who he truly is?’

‘I have never been told, my Lord, and I had rather you put the question to himself than to me.’

‘Call him then, an’ so please you.’

Sir Patrick saw no alternative save compliance; and he found Ringan undergoing a severe rating, not unaccompanied by blows from the wood of his master’s lance. The perfect willingness to die for one another was a mere natural incident, but the having transgressed, and caused such a serious scrape, made George very indignant and inflict condign punishment. ‘Better fed than he had ever been in his life, the rogue’ (and he looked it, though he muttered, ‘A bannock and a sup of barley brose were worth