"Admit him," said James, advancing a step, as the old statesman, pale and thin from the effect of his recent wounds and by the advance of years, entered, propped upon a long silver-headed staff. "You look grave, my lord," added the king; "but I pray you to be seated."
"I have evil tidings," began the chancellor, hobbling forward and coughing violently.
"The very words of my Lord Glammis," said the king; "can aught else come to the ear of him who wears a Scottish crown?" he added, biting his nether lip.
"Say not so, after our late glorious victory at Sark!" exclaimed the chancellor; "but, nevertheless, I _have_ evil news," he added, taking from the velvet pouch which hung at his embroidered girdle several letters, folded square, and tied with ribbons, in the fashion of the time. "I have two grave matters to lay before your majesty. We are more than ever humbled and insulted by this overweening earl of Douglas, and, through you, the entire nation! The king of Scotland," continued the chancellor, warming and striking the floor with his cane, "is the fountain of Scottish honour, and thus I maintain, that if the king is insulted so are _we_; for if a stream be polluted at its source, every rill that flows from it becomes so too; but we must end these matters by the sword--we must wipe out our wrongs in blood, and regild our tarnished blazons in the reddest that flows in the veins of our enemies, the men of Douglas-dale and Galloway!"
"These wild men are yet untamed," said the tall thin treasurer, shaking his bald head.
"But _not_ untameable," responded the fiery old chancellor, with a spark of rage in his hollow eyes.
"To the point, my lords, under favour of the king," said Sir Patrick Gray, gnawing his moustache in his impatience.
Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loon, Nor shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken bush That grows on yon lilye lee.--OLD BALLAD.
"What more have I to hear of this false noble and his followers?" said the king, after briefly, and to Gray's great annoyance, rehearsing the whole story of the murder of his vassal, the miller of Carluke, in the sanctuary of Lesmahago.
"The earl has lawlessly seized, and ignominiously imprisoned, in his hold of Thrave, a good and loyal servant of your majesty."