"thud" of horses'
hoofs, as if a body of men were riding quickly towards him.

"Some strangers are approaching," he said to himself, "and if I am not
mistaken they are soldiers. I will hasten home and learn their errand.
Mayhap it is a message from his Majesty the King."

He rose to his feet slowly, for his limbs were somewhat cramped with
sitting, and walked with stately dignity to the tower.

The riders had just arrived, and, as he expected, they bore a message
from the King. As he approached, a knight clad in full armour rode
forward, preceded by a man-at-arms, and, bending low over his horse's
neck, presented to him a parchment packet, sealed with the Royal Seal.

"The King of Scotland, whom God preserve, sends greetings to his loyal
cousin Sir Michael Scott," he said, "and whereas various French sailors
have committed acts of piracy on the high seas, and have attacked and
robbed divers Scottish vessels, he lays on him his Royal commands that
he will betake himself to France with all speed, and deliver this packet
into the hands of the French King. And, further, that he will demand
that an answer to the writing contained therein be given him at once,
and that he hasten back with all dispatch, and draw not rein, nor tarry,
till he deliver the answer to the King in Edinburgh."

Sir Michael took the packet from the messenger's hand and bowed gravely.
He was accustomed to receive such orders, and everyone wondered at the
marvellously quick way in which he obeyed them.

"Carry my humblest greetings to his Majesty," he answered, "and assure
him that I will lose no time, but will at once set about making my
preparations. By dawn of day I will be gone, mounted on the swiftest
steed that ever the eye of mortal man gazed upon."

"Is it swifter than the horse which his Majesty keeps for his own use at
Dunfermline?" asked the soldier curiously. "For if it is, it must indeed
be a noble animal, and 'twould fetch a good price among the barons of
the court. Ever since his Majesty has turned his mind so much to horses,
his courtiers have vied with each other to see which of them could
become the possessor of the swiftest animal."

"My horse is not for sale," said Sir Michael shortly, "not though men
offered me his weight in gold."

The young officer bowed again. There was something in Sir Michael's tone
which forbade him asking to see the horse, much as he should have liked
to do so; so, giving a signal to his men, he turn