errand, he should be suitably furnished for the heir of Angus,
and should play his part as became him in their sports at Nanci, whither
his letter said he was bound, instead of figuring as a mere groom of
Drummond of Glenuskie, and still worse, in the train of a low-born
Englishman like De la Pole.
So he had sent off ten lances, under a stout kinsman who had campaigned
in France before--Sir Robert Douglas of Harside--with all their
followers, and full equipment, such as might befit the heir of a branch
of the great House of the Bleeding Heart. But their voyage had not been
prosperous, and after riding from Flanders they had found the wedding
over, and no one in the hostel having heard of the young Master of
Angus, nor even having distinguished Sir Patrick Drummoud, though there
was a vague idea that the Scottish king's sisters had been there.
Sir Robert Douglas had gone to have an interview with the governor left
in charge. Thus the separation of the party became known to him--how the
Drummonds had gone to Paris, and the Scottish ladies had set forth for
Chalons; but there was nothing to show with whom the Master had gone.
No sooner, then, had he come forth than half his men were round him
shouting that here was Ringan of the Raefoot, that the Master had been
foully betrayed, and that he was lying sair wounded at a Priory not far
off.
Ringan, a perfectly happy man among those who not only had Scots
tongues, but the Bleeding Heart on shield and breast, was brought up
to him and told of the attack and capture of the princesses, and of the
Master's wounds.
Sir Robert, after many imprecations, turned back to the governor, who
heard the story in a far more complete form than if it had been related
to him by Ringan and the friar.
But his hands were tied till he could communicate with King Rene, for
border warfare was strictly forbidden, and unfortunately Duke Sigismund
had left Nanci some days before for Luxembourg to meet the Duke of
Burgundy.
However, just as George Douglas had persuaded the infirmarer to let him
put on his clothes, there had been a clanging and jangling in the outer
court, and the Lion and Eagle banner was visible. Duke Sigismund had
drawn up there to water the horses, and to partake of any hospitality
the Prior might offer him.
The first civilities were passing between them, when a tall figure,
his red hair crossed by a bandage, his ruddy face paled, his steps
faltering, came stumbling for
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