James III., King of Scotland, saw, not without misgiving, that his two brothers, the Duke of Albany and the Earl of Mar, were greatly beloved by his subjects; and this feeling was soon changed into one of positive hate, thanks to the whisperings of certain evil counsellors who were about his person. These wretches, well knowing the feeble nature they had to deal with, threw the King into a very sickness of terror with impossible stories of his brothers’ design against his crown and life.

The Earl of Mar, they told him, had obtained a positive assurance from certain sorcerers that his royal kinsman would die by the hand of a near relation, and they brought a sorcerer of their own to the palace to say that there was a lion in Scotland which would be torn in pieces by its own whelps. This was enough for the king; his cowardly spirit was frightened into energy and decision, and he ordered the arrest of his brothers. Albany was thrown into Edinburgh Castle, but the fate of Mar was determined on at once. He was suffocated in a bath, according to some historians; or, according to others, bled to the last drop of his blood.

Albany was in great danger of the same miserable lot, but he had friends both in France and in Scotland who were resolved not to let him perish without making an effort to save his life. They were not long in forming their plans. A little sloop sailed into Leith Roads with a cargo of Gascony wines, of which two small casks were sent as a present to the captive prince. The governor of the castle allowed them to be taken into the chamber in which his prisoner was confined, and when the duke came to dip into them, he found in one a ball of wax, containing a letter urging him to escape and make his way to the water-side, where he would find the little vessel waiting for him. In the other cask there was a coil of rope, which would enable him to drop from the walls of his prison to the rock on which the castle stands. His faithful chamberlain, who shared his captivity, promised to aid him in the enterprise.

The main point was to make sure of the captain of the guard. Albany, therefore, invited this officer to sup with him under the pretext of wishing to have his judgment on the wine. The invitation was accepted, and the captain, having as usual posted his men with due circumspection, led three of them into the duke’s room with him, and took his place at table.

The meal over, the duke proposed a game of trictrac, and took care while it was going on to ply his guest freely with the wine, while his chamberlain was no less attentive to the three soldiers. The drink, and the heat of a great fire, near which they had artfully placed him, soon made the officer very drowsy, and the men too began to nod their heads.

Their time was come: the duke, who was a strong man, suddenly jumped up, and with one blow of a poniard laid the captain dead at his feet. In another moment he had despatched two of the soldiers; while the chamberlain with his own dagger finished the third. Their work was the easier to do as the drink and the fire together had almost stupefied the poor wretches before a blow was struck. After they had taken the keys out of the captain’s pockets, they threw the bodies on the fire, and making their way to an out-of-the-way corner of the wails, began their perilous descent.

The chamberlain went down first to try the cord, but it was too short, and he fell and broke his leg. He uttered no cry of pain, but simply told his master the cause of the disaster. The duke went back to fetch his bed-clothes, and finally made the descent in safety. His first care was to provide for the injured man; and he did not bestow a thought on himself till he had carried his faithful dependent to a hut where he might remain in perfect security until his recovery. This done, he flew to the sea-shore, and a boat answering to the hail—at the signal agreed on—he boarded the sloop, which instantly set sail for France.

During the night, the guards, who knew that their officer had three men with him in the duke’s room, had no suspicion of what was passing. But when at daybreak they saw the cord hanging from the wall, they took the alarm, and rushed hastily into the apartment, when they stumbled over the body of one soldier lying across the doorway, and saw those of the captain and the two other men smouldering amid the dying embers in the large fireplace. The King expressed much surprise at this extraordinary escape, and he could not be brought to believe in it till he had seen the place with his own eyes. (Sir Walter Scott’s History of Scotland, vol. i., ch. xix.)