s there sprang a wild, weird
woman, who with waving arms and frantic shouts motioned them to go back.
In an instant the whole cavalcade was in confusion. The horses reared
and plunged, the men shouted and demanded who was there, and all the
while the weird figure, whose tattered garments fluttered fantastically
in the wind, waved her skinny arms wildly, and shouted, "Go back!"

Thinking that the woman might have some news of importance to the king,
some of the retainers spurred forward and interrogated her; but she
would say them nothing but "Go back"; adding at last "For the king
alone--for the king alone!" Judging that she might desire to warn him of
some treachery, even among his followers, the king rode forward and
spoke to her, when, waving her hands towards the water, she screamed,
"If once you cross that water, you will never return alive!" The king
asked for news, but the old witch was not a chronicler but a prophetess,
and catching at the king's rein she sought to turn him back.

By this time the retinue had closed in upon the singular pair, and the
queen's anxiety doubtless stimulated the king's action. Shaking from his
rein the woman's hand, he cried, "Forward!" and in a few moments the
party had left the stormy land for the scarce more stormy sea.

After crossing the Firth of Forth the party made rapid progress, and in
due course were safely and comfortably housed in the old monastery of
the Dominicans of Perth. The gaieties of Court and Carnival soon
obliterated, for a time at least, the memory of the discomforts of the
journey; and the warning of the old witch, if remembered at all, was
thought of with pity or dismissed with mirth. The festivities, which
were maintained with vigour and brilliance for a considerable time,
surrounded the king with both friends and foes. Sir Robert Stuart, who
had been promised the kingdom by Sir Richard Graeme, was actually acting
as chamberlain to the king he was plotting to dethrone; and the Earl of
Athole and other conspirators were among the guests who, with loyal
protestations, pledged the king's health and prosperity. Towards the
close of the Carnival, when the month of February 1437 had almost waned
to a close, while the rain beat upon the windows and the wind whistled
wildly around the roof of the old monastery, in grim contrast with the
scene of merriment that graced the halls within, the guests were
startled by a loud knocking at the outer door. The king, gayest a