A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr (best thriller novels to read txt) 📖

at their abrupt entrance and remained statuesquely in her position, as motionless as they. The young woman was the first of the three to recover her composure. Relinquishing the book to the shelf, the hand came down to her side, and she said in most charming, liquid tones, but in broken English,--

"You are looking for my father perhaps?"

The king, ever gallant, swept his hat from his head and bowed low, his alertness of mind saving the situation, for he answered quickly,--

"Indeed no, my lady. We thought the room was empty, so I implore you to pardon our intrusion. We were here yesterday, and my friend and I have just had a dispute regarding the size of these gigantic tomes on the lower shelf; my friend insisting that they exceeded our sword blades in length. Pardon me madam?" and the king stepped briskly to the largest book, laying his sword down its back as if in measurement.

"There, Jamie," he cried, "I have won the wager. I knew it was not more than three quarters the length of my blade."

The glance of fear to which the young woman had treated them departed from her face, and she smiled slightly at the young man's eagerness.

"I gather from your remark," he said, "that you are Miss MacLeod of Dunvegan. May I introduce my friend, James MacDonald of Sleat. My own name is James Stuart, and for a time we are your father's guests at Dunvegan."

The young lady with inimitable grace bowed her queenly head to each of them in turn. The men slipped their swords quietly back into their scabbards.

"I give you good welcome to Dunvegan," said the girl. "I regret that I do not speak fair the English."

"Indeed, my lady," rejoined the susceptible king, "it is the most charming English I ever heard."

The fair stranger laughed in low and most melodious cadence, like a distant cathedral's chime falling on the evening air.

"I am thinking you will be flattering me," she said, "but I know my English is not good, for there are few in these parts that I can speak to in it."

"I shall be delighted to be your teacher," replied the king with his most courteous intonation. He knew from experience that any offer of tutorship from him had always proved exceedingly acceptable to the more dainty sex, and this knowledge gave him unbounded confidence while it augmented his natural self-esteem.

"It is perhaps that you already speak the Gaelic?" suggested the young woman.

"Alas! no madam. But I should be overjoyed to learn and there, it may be, you will accept me in the part of pupil. You will find me a devoted and most obedient scholar. I am in a way what you might call a poet, and I am told on every hand that Gaelic is the proper medium for that art."

A puzzled expression troubled the face of the girl as she endeavoured to follow the communication addressed to her, but MacDonald sprang somewhat eagerly to the rescue, and delivered a long harangue in her native language. Her delight was instant, the cloud on her brow disappearing as if by magic under the genial influence of the accustomed converse. The king's physiognomy also underwent a change but the transformation was not so pleasing as that which had illumined the countenance of the girl. His majesty distinctly scowled at the intrepid subject who had so impetuously intervened, but the pair paid slight attention to him, conversing amiably together, much to their mutual pleasure.

Now, it is nowhere considered polite to use a language not understood by some one person in the party. This fact MacDonald knew perfectly well, and he doubtless would have acted differently if he had taken the time to think, but he had become so engrossed by the beauty of the lady, that, for the moment, every other consideration seemed to have fled from his mind. Miss MacLeod is to be excused because she probably supposed a Stuart to be more or less acquainted with the language, in spite of his former disclaimer, which it is not likely she fully comprehended. So she talked fluently and laughed lightly, while one of her auditors was consumed by an anger he dared not show.

The tension of the situation was changed rather than relieved, by the silent opening of the door, and the pause of MacLeod himself on the threshold, gazing dubiously at the group before him. The animation of the girl fell from her the moment she beheld her father, and the young men, turning, were confronted by the gloomy features of the chieftain. The MacLeod closed the door softly, and, without a word, walked to his chair beside the table. The girl, bowing slightly, with visible restraint, quitted the room, and, as she did so, MacDonald's alertness again proved his friend, for he tip-toed quickly to the door, before the king, accustomed to be waited upon rather than waiting, recollected himself; and held it open for the lady, making a gallant sweep with his bonnet as she passed out.

When the supple young man returned to his place beside the king he said in a whisper,--

"No sword's point play with the father of such a beauty, eh?"

To this remark his majesty made no reply, but said rather gruffly and abruptly to his host,--

"Do you hold us prisoners in this castle, sir?"

"That will depend on the answers I get from you," replied the MacLeod slowly. "Are you two or either of you, emissaries of the king?"

"We are not."

"Does the king know you are here?"

"Regarding the king, his knowledge or his doings, you had better address your inquiries to him personally. We have no authority to speak for his majesty."

"You are merely two private gentlemen, then, come all this distance to satisfy a love of travel and a taste for scenery?"

"You have stated the case with great accuracy, sir."

"Yesterday you spoke of my lack of manners in failing to ask you to be seated; I shall now refer to a breach of politeness on your own part. It is customary when strangers visit a province under an acknowledged ruler, that they should make a formal call upon the ruler before betaking themselves to other portions of his territory. You remained for several days in Skye without taking the trouble to inform me of your arrival."

"Sir," replied James haughtily, "I dispute your contention entirely. You are not the ruler of Skye."

"Who is then?"

"The King of Scotland, of course."

The MacLeod laughed in a fashion that somewhat resembled the snarl of an angry dog.

"Of course, as you say. No one disputes that James is king of all Scotland, and I would be the last to question his right, because I hold my lands under charter bearing his signature, carrying the Great Seal of the kingdom; nevertheless, the MacLeods held Skye long before the present royal family of Scotland were heard of, and I would have been MacLeod of MacLeod although James had never put his hand to this parchment. Meanwhile, I take the risk of detaining you until I learn more about you, and if the king makes objection, I shall apologise."

"You _will_ apologise," said James sternly.

"Oh, it is easily done, and fair words smooth many a difficulty. I shall write to him if he complain, that I asked especially if you were his men, that you denied it, and so, both for his safety and my own, I considered it well to discover whether or not you were enemies of the realm. If the father of MacDonald is offended I shall be pleased to meet him either on sea or land, in anger or in friendship, and as for you, who talk so glibly of the king, I would warn you that many things happen in Skye that the king knows nothing of, besides the making of strong drink."

The king made him a courtier-like bow for this long speech, and answered lightly,--

"The cock crows blithely on his own midden. Your midden is here, while mine is far away, therefore the contest in crowing is somewhat uneven. Nevertheless I indulge in a final flapping of my wings and an effort of the throat when I say that you will apologise, not by writing at your ease in Dunvegan Castle, but on your bended knees at Stirling."

"That's as may be," said the MacLeod indifferently, and it was quite obvious that he remained unmoved by the threat. "Gentlemen, I have the honour to wish you good morning."

"One moment. Are we then to consider ourselves prisoners?"

"You may consider yourselves whatever best pleases you. If you make another attempt like the one you indulged in this morning, I shall clap you both in the deepest dungeons I possess. Some would even go so far as to call that imprisonment, but if each gives me his word of honour that he will make no attempt at escape, and also that he will not communicate with Stirling, then you are as free of my house and my grounds as if you were the most welcome of guests. But I warn you that if, when you pass your words, you attempt to tamper with any of my men, I shall know of it very soon after, and then comes the dungeon."

The king hesitated and looked at his friend, but MacDonald, who had taken no part in this conversation, seemed in an absent dream, his eyes gazing on vacancy, or perhaps beholding a vision that entranced him.

"What do you say, MacDonald?" enquired the king sharply.

MacDonald recovered himself with a start.

"To what?" he asked.

"To the terms proposed by our gaoler."

"I did not hear them; what are they?"

"Will you give your word not to escape?"

"Oh, willingly."

"And not to communicate with Stirling?"

"I don't care if I never see Stirling again."

The king turned to the chief.

"There is little difficulty, you see," he said, "with your fellow Highlander. I however, am supposed to be a Lowlander, and therefore cautious. I give you my word not to communicate with Stirling. As for the other proviso, I amend it as follows. I shall not leave this island without your knowledge and your company. If that is satisfactory, I pledge my faith."

"Perfectly satisfactory," answered the MacLeod, and with that the two young men took their departure.

Once more in the king's room, from which, earlier in the day they had set out so confidently, MacDonald flung himself upon a bench, but the king paced up and down the apartment. The former thought the latter was ruminating on the conditions that had been wrung from him, but the first words of the king proved his mistake.

"Jamie, you hardly gave me fair play, you and your Gaelic, with that dainty offspring of so grim a sire."

"Master of Ballengeich," replied the Highlander, "a man plays for his own hand. You should have learned the Gaelic long ago."

The king stopped abruptly in his walk.

"Why do you call me by that name?"

"Merely to show that in this ploy the royal prerogative is not brought into play; it is already settled that when I meet the king, I am defeated. It remains to be seen what luck plain James MacDonald has in a contest with plain James Stuart."

"Oh, it's to be a contest then?"

"Not unless you wish it so. I am content to exchange all the fair damsels