‘Speak of such things seated, my good friend,’ said James, trying to raise him; but Drummond still did not second his efforts.
‘I have not given my parole of honour as the captive whose life is again due to you.’
‘You must give that to the Duke of Bedford, Sir Patrick,’ said James. ‘I know not if I am to be put into ward myself. In any case you are safe, by the good King’s grace, so you pledge yourself to draw no sword against England in Scotland or France till ransom be accepted for you.’
‘Alack!’ said Patrick, ‘I have neither sword nor ransom. I would I knew what was to be done with the life you have given me, my lord.’
‘I will find a use for it, never fear,’ said James, sadly, but kindly. ‘Be my knight for the present, till better days come for us both.’
‘With my whole heart!’ said Patrick, fervently. ‘Yours am I for ever, my liege.’
‘Then my first command is that you should rise, and rest,’ said James, assisting the knight to regain his feet, and placing him in the only chair in the room. ‘You must become a whole man as soon as may be.’
For Patrick’s arm was in a sling, and evidently still painful and useless, and he sank back, breathless and unresisting, like one who had by no means regained perfect health, while his handsome features looked worn and pale. ‘I fear me,’ said James, as the two cousins silently shook hands, ‘that you have moved over soon.—You surely had my message, Bairdsbrae?’
‘Oh yes, my lord,’ replied Baird; ‘but the lad was the harder to hold; and after the fever was gone, we deemed he could well brook the journey by water. ’Twas time I was here to guide ye too, my lord; you and the callant baith look sair forfaughten.’
‘We have had a sad time of it, Nigel,’ said James, with trembling lip.