convents to receive
them on this the great road to the North, and to its many shrines for
pilgrimage.

Perhaps Sir Patrick relaxed a little of his vigilance, since the good
behaviour of his troop had won his confidence, and they were less likely
to be regarded as invaders than by the inhabitants of the district
nearer their own frontier.

Hawking and coursing within bounds had been permitted by both the Knight
of Berwick and the Canon of Durham on the wide northern moors; but Sir
Patrick, on starting in the morning of the day when they were entering
Northamptonshire, had given a caution that sport was not free in the
more frequented parts of England, and that hound must not be loosed nor
hawk flown without special permission from the lord of the manor.

He was, however, riding in the rear of the rest, up a narrow lane
leading uphill, anxiously discussing with Father Romuald the expediency
of seeking hospitality from any of the great lords whose castles might
be within reach before he had full information of the present state of
factions at the Court, when suddenly his son Malcolm came riding back,
pushing up hastily.

'Sir! father!' he cried, 'there's wud wark ahead, there's a flight of
unco big birds on before, and Lady Jean's hawk is awa' after them, and
Jeanie's awa' after the hawk, and Geordie Red Peel is awa' after Jean,
and Davie's awa' after Geordie; and there's the blast of an English
bugle, and my mither sent me for you to redd the fray!'

'Time, indeed!' said Sir Patrick with a sigh, and, setting spurs to his
horse, he soon was beyond the end of the lane, on an open heath, where
some of his troop were drawn up round his banner, almost forcibly
kept back by Dame Lilias and the elder Andrew. He could not stop for
explanation from them, indeed his wife only waved him forward towards
a confused group some hundred yards farther off, where he could see a
number of his own men, and, too plainly, long bows and coats of Lincoln
green, and he only hoped, as he galloped onward, that they belonged
to outlaws and not to rangers. Too soon he saw that his hope was vain;
there were ten or twelve stout archers with the white rosette of York
in their bonnets, the falcon and fetterlock on their sleeves, and
the Plantagenet quarterings on their breasts. In the midst was a dead
bustard, also an Englishman sitting up, with his head bleeding; Jean
was on foot, with her dagger-knife in one hand, and holding fast to her
breast h