He paused, and thought for an instant, and then added, "No! I will make no promises for to-morrow. God, and God only, knows what may be to-morrow. Do not alarm them, Austin, more than needful. But still," he added, solemnly, "do not buoy them up with hopes that may prove false. Tell them the king comes--tell them I know not why he comes; and let their own judgment speak the rest. But of all things, let my mother be upon her guard, and see to the safety of my young brothers. There's my purse, good fellow, to defray your expenses on the road. Would there were more in it, for your sake. And now away with all speed! Here, take my sword; lay it somewhere in the house. The king shall not say that I wore arms of any kind."
Austin Jute caught the earl's hand and kissed it, as if he felt that it was the last time he should ever see him. Then, without a word of reply, but with a glistening eye, he turned from him, sped back to the Great House, took the horse he usually rode from the stable, and without farther preparation rode away.
In the meantime, Gowrie rejoined his friends and walked on, the party every moment being increased by some accession from amongst the magistrates of the town, or the gentry of the place and neighbourhood. It had thus been swelled to the number of five or six-and-thirty persons when it reached the side of the large fine piece of meadow ground in the Tay, called the South Inch, and in a minute or two after, the royal cavalcade was seen approaching at a slow and stately pace. It was remarked, however, aloud, not by the Earl of Gowrie or any of his friends, but by one of the bailies of the town, that although they had met many of the Murrays in the streets as they went along, not one of them had joined the party going to receive and welcome the king.
"They do not show their loyalty, methinks," said Bailie Roy.
No reply was made aloud, but Hugh Moncrief, a warm-tempered, plain-spoken man, who had been watching Gowrie's countenance attentively, muttered between his teeth, "They may show it by and by with a vengeance, perchance. I know not what they do here; the town is full of them!"
Neither Gowrie nor his brother Alexander made any observation whatever, but waited in grave silence till James's horse was within some fifty yards; and then the young earl advanced with his head uncovered, saying, "Your majesty is welcome to your good and loyal town of St. Johnstone; and I only regret that I did not earlier know of your coming, that a better reception might have been prepared for your royal grace."
"Oh, we come in no state, my good lord," replied the king. "We love to take our friends by surprise; and we know that no man in all the realm will be more willing or better prepared to receive the king than the Earl of Gowrie. Deed, our poor beasties are very tired, so that our train has gone spilling itself on the road like an o'erfilled luggie; but they'll come in by sixes and sevens, no doubt. And now, my lord, by your good leave, we'll go on and repose ourselves."
Gowrie gave a glance over the king's train at this intimation of its numbers being likely to increase before night. It consisted of more than forty persons already; but, without any observation, he merely bowed his head and walked by the side of the monarch's horse, James continuing to speak with him in a gay and jocular tone all the way to the gates of Gowrie House.
As soon as the monarch had entered the court, where some eight or ten of the earl's servants were drawn up, Alexander Ruthven sprang to hold the horse's head, while Gowrie himself assisted the king to dismount. The magistrates of the town were then presented to the monarch in form, having pressed somewhat closely around; but James, treating the worthy bailies with somewhat scanty courtesy, cut their compliments short, and was led by the earl through the great hall into the lesser dining room, which had been hastily prepared for his reception.
"He's no like a king either in face or tongue," said Bailie Graham, in a low tone, as he walked away.