majesty was capable of, in its impoverished irregular state.
Hosts of rough lawless warriors, men-at-arms, squires and knights, lived
at free quarters, in a sort of rude plenty, in and about the Castle;
eating and drinking at the Regent's expense, sleeping where they could,
in hall or stable, and for clothing and armour trusting to 'spulzie';
always ready for violence, without much caring on whom
exercised--otherwise hunting, or lounging, or swelling their master's
disorderly train.

This retinue was almost at its largest at this time, being swelled by the
following of the two younger sons of Murdoch, Robert and Alexander; and
the courts of the Castle were filled with rude, savage-looking men, some
few grooming horses, others with nothing to do but to shout forth their
jeers at the pale, black-gowned student, who timidly limped into their
lair.

Timidly--yes; for the awful chances heavily oppressed him; and the
horrible scurrility and savagery that greeted him on all sides made his
heart faint at the thought of his Lily in this cage of foul animals. He
did not fear for himself, and never paused until a shouting circle of
idle ruffians set themselves full in his way, to badger and bait the poor
scholar with taunts and insults--hemming him in, bawling out ribald
mirth, as a pack of hounds fall on some stray dog, or, as Malcolm
thought, in a moment half of sick horror, half of resolute resignation,
like wild cattle--fat bulls of Bashan closing in on every side. So
horrible a moment of distress he had never known; but suddenly, as he
stood summoning all his strength, panting with dismay, inwardly praying,
and trying to close his ears and commend himself to One who knew what
mockery is, there was an opening of the crowd, a youth darted down among
them, with a loud cry of 'Shame! Out on you! A poor scholar!' and
taking Malcolm's hand, led him forward; while a laugh of mockery rose in
the distance--'Like to like.'

'Ay, my friend and brother, I am Baccalaureus, even as you are,' eagerly
said the young gentleman, in whom Malcolm, somewhat to his alarm,
recognized his cousin, James Kennedy, the King's nephew, a real Parisian
'_bejanus_,' or _bec jaune_, {2} when they last had met in the Hotel de
St. Pol; and thus not only qualified to confute and expose him, should he
show any ignorance of details, but also much more likely to know him than
those who had not seen him for many months before he had left Scotland.

But Jam