ercy, and almost all
on whom his eyes fell. The bleeding relieved him; he breathed less
tightly, but became deadly pale, and sank into a doze of extreme
exhaustion.

'Who is here?' he said, awakening. 'Some drink! What you, Jamie! You
that were on fire to see a stricken field!'

'Not so much as to see you better at ease,' said James.

'I am better,' said Henry. 'I could move now; and I must. This tent
will stifle me by noon.'

'You will not go forward?'

'No; I'll go back. A sick man is best with his wife. And I can battle
it no further, nor grudge the glory of the day to John. He deserves it.'

The irascible sharpness had passed from his voice and manner, and given
place to a certain languid cheerfulness, as arrangements were made for
his return to Vincennes.

There proved to be a large and commodious barge, in which the transit
could be effected on the river, with less of discomfort than in the
springless horse litter by which he had travelled the day before; and
this was at once prepared.

Malcolm had meanwhile remained, as in duty bound, in attendance on his
king. James had found time to enjoin him to stay, being, to say the
truth, unwilling to trust one so inexperienced and fragile in the _melee_
without himself; nor indeed would this have been a becoming moment for
him to put himself forward to win his spurs in the English cause.

Nothing had passed about Patrick Drummond, nor the high words of last
night. Henry seemed to have forgotten them, between his bodily suffering
and the anxiety of being forced to relinquish the command just before a
battle; and James would have felt it ungenerous to harass him at such a
moment, when absolutely committed to his charge. For the present, there
was no fear of the prisoner being summarily executed by any lawful
authority, since the King had promised to take cognizance of the case;
and the chief danger was from his chance discovery by some lawless man-at-
arms, who would think himself doing good service by killing a concealed
Scot under any circumstances.

Drummond himself, after his delirious night, had sunk into a heavy sleep;
and the King thought the best hope for him would be to remain under the
care of Sir Nigel Baird for the present, until he could obtain favour for
him from Henry, and could send back orders from Vincennes. He would not
leave Malcolm to share the care of him, declaring that the canny Sir
Nigel would have quite enough to do in aver