nties; and how
intolerable it would be to leave Esclairmonde to fall into the hands of
Boemond of Burgundy.

Such a renunciation could not be made; he did not even know that
Patrick's safety depended on it; and instead of that, he promised, with
great fervency of devotion, that if St. Andrew would save Patrick
Drummond, and bring about the two marriages, a most splendid monastery
for educational purposes, such as the King so much wished to found,
should be his reward. It should be in honour of St. Andrew, and should
be endowed with Esclairmonde's wealth, which would be quite ample enough,
both for this and for a noble portion for Lily. Surely St. Andrew must
accept such a vow, and spare Patrick! So Malcolm tried to pacify an
anguish of suspense that would not be pacified.

CHAPTER XII: THE LAST PILGRIMAGE

The summer morning came; the _reveille_ sounded, Mass was sung in the
chapel tent, without which Henry never moved; and Malcolm tried to
reassure his sinking heart by there pledging his vow to St. Andrew.

The English king was not present; but the troops were drawing up in
complete array, that he might inspect them before the march. And a
glorious array they were, of steel-clad men-at-arms on horseback, in
bands around their leader's banner, and of ranks of sturdy archers, with
their long-bows in leathern cases; the orderly multitude, stretching as
far as the eye could reach, glittering in the early sun, and waiting with
bold and glad hearts to greet the much-loved king, who had always led
them to victory.

The only unarmed knight was James of Scotland. He stood in the space
beside the standard of England, in his plain suit of chamois leather, his
crimson cloak over his shoulder, but with no weapon about him, waiting
with crossed arms for the morning's decision.

Close outside the royal tent waited Henry's horse, and those of his
brother and other immediate attendants; and after a short interval the
King came forth in his brightest armour, with the coronal on his helmet,
and the beaver up; and as he mounted, not without considerable aid,
enthusiastic shouts of 'Long live King Harry!' broke forth, and came
echoing back and back from troop to troop, gathering fervour as they
rose.

The King rode forward towards the standard; but while yet the shouts were
pealing from the army, be suddenly caught at his saddle-bow, reeled
visibly, and would have fallen before Bedford could bring his horse to
his sid