Let never man be bold enough to say—
Thus, and no further, shall my passion stray;
The first crime past compels us into more,
And guilt grows fate, that was but choice before.
Aaron Hill.

The silence of a minute was, perhaps, the most severe comment which followed this story of more than Oriental barbarity. Indignation made the fiery young king almost speechless. He snatched from the table one of those Beauvais goblets, which were then greatly esteemed and were mounted with silver-gilt. It was full of water, and he drank it thirstily.

"My brave kinsman—so young, so faithful, and so merry!" exclaimed Sir Patrick Gray, with more of grief than anger in his tone; "I would give my life to save his; for it must be in imminent peril."

"No such sacrifice will be necessary," said the king; "we shall write to this daring lord, commanding him at once, on peril of his allegiance, to yield up Sir Thomas MacLellan of Bombie to our messenger, and set him forth of Thrave."

"But who," asked the chancellor, "will be daring enough to bear such a message into the wilds of Galloway, beyond the land of the Annandale thieves?"

"That will I, and blithely, too: MacLellan would do as much for me," replied Sir Patrick, with energy.

"Reflect, my friend; a royal herald were safer," said the king. "You are the enemy of Douglas in more ways than one."

"How, your highness? I am not wont to reflect much in time of peril."

"True, Sir Patrick; but this mission becomes doubly one of life and death, and of many perils to you; for loyalty to me is, perhaps, your smallest crime in the eyes of Douglas," said the king.

"Then I have reflected. Douglas shall release my father's sister's son, or I shall cleave him to the beard in his own hall!" exclaimed Gray, with a sudden burst of passion.

"That would not mend the matter much; and I should only be in thee but one faithful subject the less, and faithful subjects are rather scarce at present. Alas! my valiant friend, this strong traitor is likely to hang thee like a faulty hound—even as he hanged the gentle and noble Herries of Terregles."

"I have given my word to ride on this perilous errand, and, with your majesty's permission, go I shall," said Gray, resolutely.

"Good," said the chancellor, striking his long cane on the oak floor; "a soldier's word is his bond for weal or woe."

"In the cause of our king and kindred, I will do all that MacLellan would, were he free. Oh! your highness, write at once; furnish me with due credentials; time in this is precious, and the waste of it perilous!"

"When shall you depart on this mission?"

"So soon as I can get my horse and armour; within an hour, I shall have left these new walls of Edinburgh many a mile behind me."

"'Tis well—good service is ever promptly done."

"I am the subject and soldier of your majesty," replied Gray, bowing with modest confidence.

"And a faithful one!" added the king, giving his hand to his favourite, who was now in his thirty-fifth year, with a fine martial face, a clear bright eye, and a heart that was brave as it was tender and true. "But know you the language of these wild men among whom you are venturing—the fremit Scots of Galloway?"

"I know but little more than our Lowland tongue, with a smattering of Flemish and French, picked up when I had more leisure than desire to learn them—the castle of Bommel; yet I can make a shift to use others, too, that are more universally known."

"How?"

"I can make love to the women and show my purse to the men," said Gray, with a gaiety that was half assumed; "I'll warrant they will both understand me."

"I fear me, Sir Patrick, you may have to show your sword more frequently, on a king's errand though you be; but within an hour a letter shall be prepared."

"And within that time, with the permission of your highness, I shall be armed and mounted," said Gray, bowing low again and retiring in haste.

There was a momentary silence after this, for the mission on which Gray was departing was one of great peril to himself. Indeed, as Lord Glammis observed, "he was the last man in Scotland who should have undertaken it."

"Chancellor," said the king suddenly, "you spoke of a bond, or league, as a third cause for the hatred of Douglas against Sir Thomas MacLellan. What is this document?"

"A matter so formidable, so seriously affecting the welfare of the realm, and the honour of your crown, that I know not in what language to approach it; but the abbot of Tongland has sent me a copy of the actual deed."

The manner of Crichton became so grave and earnest that the king changed colour, and the master of the household and the abbot of Melrose, who remained silent and somewhat apart, exchanged glances expressive of interest and alarm.

"Say on," said James briefly, and striking the floor with his heel.

"The earl of Douglas, for the aggrandisement of his power and family, has formed a league offensive and defensive with the earls of Crawford and Rosse—a league by which he hopes to bid complete defiance to your royal authority, and to bring forty thousand men at a day's notice into the field against it; and to this compact they have bound themselves by rebellious and sacrilegious but solemn and terrible oaths, that each shall aid and assist the others and their friends against the whole world."

The chancellor then handed to James a duplicate of this remarkable bond, which was signed and sealed by Douglas; by Alexander (with the long beard), earl of Crawford, who was surnamed the Tiger, and was sheriff of Aberdeen, and bailiff of Scone; Donald, earl of Rosse and lord of the Isles; Hugh Douglas, earl of Ormond; James Dunbar, earl of Murray; Douglas, Lord Balvenie; James Hamilton, lord of Cadzow, and many others of the highest rank.

On beholding this terrible bond, James felt for a moment as if the crown which had come to him from a long line of monarchs was about to be torn from his head. He grew very pale, then perceiving that the keen and deeply-set eyes of his stern, faithful, and uncompromising chancellor were fixed upon him, he rallied his spirits and said, "This must be crushed in the bud, lest in its bloom it crush us."

"And to crush it we must first dissemble, and take these rebels in detail—break the rods separately which while in a bundle might defy our efforts."

"I must have a personal interview with this daring earl of Douglas," said the king, "even if I condescend to ride to Thrave for it. But meanwhile Gray shall bear to him three documents——"

"Three?" reiterated Crichton, looking up.

"He shall be written to intreating, rather than demanding, the release of Sir Thomas MacLellan, who refused to join this infamous league. I shall entrust Gray with a second missive containing a summons to a conference, and assuring Douglas of a restoration to favour, and forgiveness for the past, provided he break this bond, and as a guarantee——"

"Yes—yes," interrupted the old chancellor, grinding his almost toothless gums; "he will require something of that kind, while the memory of that 23rd of November, 1440, is fresh in Galloway."

"Then as a security the earl shall have a letter of safe conduct, to and from the castle of Stirling, signed by our own hand. Let this be seen to at once," and the king, as if weary of the morning, but in reality crushed and overwhelmed by its terrible revelations, retired to another room, muttering as he did so, "Oh, my poor father, who perished by the swords of regicides! how happier would I be if seated with you at the feet of God, than on this throne of Scotland?"

So thought James II. in 1450; how many of his descendants had better reason to utter the same bitter prayer, ere throne, and crown, and sceptre passed away from them.

Exactly one hour after the king retired, Sir Patrick Gray, carefully armed and splendidly mounted, departed on perilous, and—considering the state of the country, the lack of fords, roads, bridges, and hostelries—distant journey of ninety old Scottish miles. Over his suit of mail he wore a surcoat, on which the royal arms were embroidered to show that he rode on the special service of the king, and that to molest him involved the penalties of treason.

His departure was viewed with deep interest by the court and his soldiers. All expressed doubt and pity, for the unscrupulous character of Douglas inspired all men with terror, and as he rode off, the old warder at the castle gate shook his silvery head while saying, "By my faith, Foulis, ye'll come back faster than ye gang, gif ye e'er come back ava—but God speed ye the gate, man!"