A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr (best classic books of all time TXT) 📕

cobbler.

"Then what is your verdict," demanded the king.

"Well, I kind of think I should leave them alone," said Flemming cautiously.

"Do you agree with him, David?"

"I'm not sure but I do. It seems a choice of two evils."

The king laughed riotously and smote his thigh.

"Well, of all half-hearted counsellors, King James has the champion pair; and yet I had made up my mind before I asked the advice of either of you."

"And what was that?" inquired Sir David, "to attack them?"

"No."

"To leave them alone?" suggested the cobbler.

"No."

"What then?" cried both together.

"What then? Why, just to get a little surer information. Here are three men of open minds. I propose that for the next week, or thereabouts, we three shall be honest cattle merchants, who will mount our honest horses and take a quiet bit journey along the Border. The scenery, they tell me, is grand, and David here will make poems on it. It's a healthy country, and the cobbler has been bending too assiduously over broken shoes of late, so the fresh air and the exercise will do him good."

"Losh, your majesty!" cried the cobbler, in dismay, "I'm no horseman. I never rode any four-legged thing but a cobbler's bench, and that side-saddle fashion."

"Oh, you'll have learnt when we reach the Border," said the king, with a laugh. "Before two days are past you'll be riding as well as Sir David, who is at present the worst horseman in all Scotland."

"Pegasus is the steed I yearn to ride," returned the poet, with a wry face.

"Yes, and even it sometimes throws you, David. You'll never be the Psalmist your namesake was. Well, we'll look on it as agreed. Flemming shall be purse-bearer, and so our tour will be an economical one. Here is a purse well filled. You will look after the drover's costumes, make all disbursements, and take care that you do not betray us by undue lavishness."

Thus it came about that three supposed drovers took their way to the Border by a route which drovers were never known to travel before, and, besides this, they were travelling empty-handed towards England, whereas, real drovers faced the south with their herds before them, and the north with those herds sold or stolen. Not one of the three had in his vocabulary a single word pertaining to the cattle trade, and every man with whom they spoke knew at once that, whatever else they might be, they were not drovers, and so the ill-fated three went blundering through the free-booters' country, climbing hills and descending dales, and frightening honest folk with the questions they asked; questions about men whose names should be spoken in a whisper, and even then with a look of fear over the shoulder. Innkeepers who saw them approach with delight, watched them leave with relief, thanking God that no raider had happened inside to hear their innocent inquiries; yet the three themselves were enjoying an interesting and instructive journey, and the king had come to the conclusion that the devil was not so black as he was painted.

At last, they stumbled into a hostelry kept by a man whose name was Armstrong. Their horses were taken care of and the trio sat down to a hearty meal, as had been their luck all along the Border.

"Landlord, does this meat come from England?" asked the king.

The landlord caught his breath. He stood stock still for a moment and then replied,--

"I hope it is to your lordship's liking."

"Oh! I'm no lordship," said James, "but an honest drover body, trying to find new markets for my stock."

"I can see that," replied the landlord; "then you will know that this meat's raised by Scotchmen."

"Raised!" laughed the king. "Raised where? In Northumberland? Are you sure 'lift' is not the word you mean?"

"Sir," said the landlord, gravely, "there's no lifting of cattle hereabout. This is not the Highlands. All in the neighbourhood are honest farmers or foresters."

"Earning their bread by the sweat of their brow," put in Sir David Lyndsay.

"Doubtless, when the English are after them," suggested the cobbler.

The landlord did not join in their mirth, but merely said,--

"If your dinner is to your liking, my duty is done."

"Quite so," answered the king. "We were merely curious regarding the origin of your viands; but the question seems to be a ticklish one in this district."

"Oh, not at all," replied the innkeeper grimly. "If you question enough, you are sure to meet some one who will make you a suitable answer."

The landlord, seemingly not liking the turn of the conversation, disappeared, and during the rest of the meal they were waited upon by a lowering, silent woman, who scowled savagely at them, and made no reply to the raillery of the king, who was in the highest spirits. They had ridden far that morning since breakfasting, and it was well after midday when they drew away from a table that had been devoted to their satisfying. Sir David and Flemming showed little inclination to proceed with their journey.

"The poor beasts must have a rest," said the poet, although none of the three were horsemen enough to go out and see how the animals fared at the hands of the stableman. The king was accustomed to be waited upon, and the other two knew little and cared less about horses. As they sat there in great content they heard suddenly a commotion outside and the clatter of many hoofs on the stone causeway. The door burst in, and there came, trampling, half a dozen men, who entered with scant ceremony, led by a stalwart individual who cast a quick glance from one to the other of the three who were seated. His eye rested on the king, whom, with quick intuition, he took to be the leader of the expedition and, doffing his feathered bonnet in a salutation that had more of mockery than respect in it, he said: "I hear that, like myself, you're in the cattle trade, and that you're anxious to learn the prospect of doing business in this mountainous locality."

"You are quite right," replied the king.

"I have in my byres near by," continued the man, "some of the finest stirks that ever stood on four hoofs. Would you be willing to come and give me your opinion of them, and say how much you care to pay for as many as you need?"

Again the man swept his bonnet nearly to the floor, and his six men, who stood back against the wall, as if to give the speaker the stage in the centre of the floor, glanced one at another. The king, however, was unruffled, and he replied with a twinkle in his eye,--

"My good sir, you are mistaken, we are on the other side of the market. We are sellers and not buyers."

"So was Judas," said the incomer, his politeness giving way to an expression of fierceness and cruelty which went far to terrify two of the seated men. "Are you sure, sir, that the cattle you sell have not two legs instead of four?"

"I don't understand you," replied the king.

"Is it men or stirks, you would give to the butcher?"

"Still I do not understand you," repeated the king.

"Oh, very well. How much are you asking for your cattle?"

"We are here rather to see how much may be offered."

"I can well believe you. Still, you must know something of the price of beasts on hoofs. How much would you want for a good, fat stirk? Answer me that!"

The king glanced at his two companions, and his glance said as plainly as words, "Give me a hint, in heaven's name, regarding the cost of a beast;" but in all Scotland he could not have found two men who knew less about the subject.

"Oh, well," said the king, nonchalantly, not at all liking the turn affairs had taken, "I suppose we would be satisfied with twenty pounds," and this being received with a roar of laughter, he added hastily, "twenty pounds Scots."

"Oh," said the big man, "I was afraid you were going to demand that amount in English currency. It is evident you will do well at the trade, if you can find such buyers."

"Then make us an offer," suggested the king, with the air of a man willing to listen to reason.

"Where are your cattle?"

"They're in the north."

"What part of the north?"

"My good fellow," cried the king, his temper rising, "you have asked many questions and answered none. Who are you, and what right have you to make your demands in such a tone?"

"Ah, then there's some spirit among the three of you. I am glad to see that. Who am I? I am Johnny Armstrong. Did you ever hear tell of him? And I suspect that your cattle are grown in the high town of Stirling. Am I right in that? It is in Stirling that you can sell what you may lift on the Border, and your cattle will be paid for in king's gold. You are spies, my fine gentlemen, and know as little of cattle as I know of the king and the court."

The king rejoined calmly,--

"The country is at peace. There can be no spies except in a time of war."

"Is it even so? Then what are you three doing rampaging up and down my land on the Border?"

"That the lands may be yours we do not dispute, nor have we interfered with them. The highways are the king's, and we three are peaceful subjects of his, claiming, therefore, the right to travel on them as we will, so long as we infringe not his peace or the liberty of any man."

"Stoutly spoken and bravely, considering in what king's dominion you now find yourself. You have to learn that Johnny, and not Jamie, is king of the Border. And when you're in the hands of a man named Armstrong, you'll find how little a boy named Stuart can do for you. Tie them up!"

Before one of the three could move from the stool he occupied, they were set upon by the ruffians, and each Stirling man found his ankles fastened together and his elbows tied behind his back with a speed that amazed him.

"Bless my soul," moaned the poet, "all this in broad daylight, and in the king's dominion."

They were carried outside and flung thus helpless, face downward on horses, like so many sacks of corn, each before a mounted man. Armstrong sprung upon his horse and led his men from the high road into the forest, his followers numbering something like a score. The captives, from their agonising position on the horses, could see nothing of the way they were being taken, except that they journeyed on and on through dense woodland. They lost all knowledge of direction, and, by and by, came to the margin of a brawling stream, arriving at last, much to their relief, at a stronghold of vast extent, situated on a beetling rock that overhung the river. Here the three were placed on their feet again, and chattering women and children crowded round them, but, in no case, was there a word of pity or an expression of sympathy for their plight.

The striking feature of the castle was a tall square tower, which might be anything