“More than I love myself,” replied the page.
“And are you willing to risk everything for me?”
“My life, if needs be,” replied the youth.
The King then made him acquainted with his plan, and hastily putting on a servant’s livery, went to the stables with him, as though to prepare for the next day’s hunt. The guards, failing to recognise him in this disguise, suffered him to pass without hindrance. The King had previously taken another of his servants into his confidence, so that when he and the page reached the stable they found three good horses, ready saddled and bridled, awaiting them.
James mounted at once with his two faithful servants and galloped all night, light as a bird just escaped from its cage. At break of day he passed the bridge of Stirling, and as there was no other means of crossing the Forth than by this bridge or by a boat, he ordered the gates which barred the passage to be closed against all comers, without exception. He was very tired when he reached Stirling Castle, where he was received with joy by the governor, whom, as we have seen, he had himself been the means of placing in that fortress. The drawbridge was raised, the portcullis lowered, the guards were doubled—in fact, every possible precaution was taken that prudence could dictate. But the King was so much afraid of again falling into the power of the Douglas, that in spite of his fatigue, he refused to go to bed until he had himself placed the keys of the castle under his pillow.
There was great alarm at Falkland on the following morning. George Douglas had returned on the very night of the King’s flight at about eleven o’clock, and had at once asked for his prisoner. He was told that James had gone to bed early, wishing to rise in good time for the hunt; and he himself retired, perfectly satisfied that all was safe. But in the morning he was destined to hear very different news, for a certain Peter Carmichael, baillie of Abernethy, came rapping at his door, to ask him if he knew where the King was at that moment.
“He is asleep in his bedchamber,” said Sir George.
“You are deceived,” replied Carmichael; “he passed over Stirling Bridge last night.”
Douglas, jumping out of bed, ran to the King’s room, knocked loudly, and receiving no answer, broke open the door. Finding the apartment empty, he cried, “Treason! the King is gone!” dispatched couriers to his brothers, and sent out in every direction to call his partisans together for the recapture of James. But the King had by this time proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would declare traitor every person bearing the name of Douglas who should approach within twelve miles of his person, or take any part in the administration of the kingdom. The Douglases were obliged to submit, and from that time commenced the decay of their house, for James could not be brought to pardon them. (Sir Walter Scott’s History of Scotland, ch. xxiii.)