Lord Murray was tired and wet, like the rest of the army; and, to add to his evil plight, he was consumed by the jealousy and self-importance that were his besetting luxuries. “The church bells, your Highness,” he said, glancing up the street—“I trust it’s no ill omen that they ring so desperately out of tune.”
Sir Jasper saw the Prince move impatiently in saddle, saw him struggle with some irritation that was not of yesterday. And he felt, rather than framed the clear thought, that there were hot-and-cold folk among the Scots, as here in Lancashire.
Then the Prince’s face cleared. “My lord Murray,” he said suavely, “all bells ring in tune when loyal hands are at the ropes. Your ear, I think, is not trained to harmony. And now, gentlemen, what food is in your town? Enough to give a mouthful to us all? Good! We can spare an hour in Langton, and after that we must be jogging forward.”
The hour was one of surprise to Sir Jasper and his friends. Here was an army strong enough to raid the town, to break into the taverns, to commit licence and excess; yet there was no licence, nor thought of it. A Stuart, his fair hair muddied and unkempt, had charge of this march south; and his will was paramount, because his army loved him. No fear, no usual soldier’s obedience to discipline, could have hindered these Scots from rapine when they found the town’s resources scanty for their hunger; but the fearlessness, the comradeship of their leader had put honour, sharp as a sword, between temptation and themselves.
“We must foot our bill here, Sir Jasper,” said the Prince as they were preparing to ride out again.
“Oh, that can wait——”
“No, by your leave! Theft is the trade of men who steal thrones. I will not have it said that any town in England was poorer because a Stuart came that way. Lochiel, you carry our royal purse,” he broke off, with a quick, impulsive laugh. “Peep into it and see how much is left.”
“Enough to pay our score, your Highness.”
“Then we’re rich, Lochiel! We may be poor to-morrow, but to-day we’re rich enough to pay our debts.”
A half-hour later they rode out into the wintry, ill-found roads, into the open country, wet and desolate, that was guarded by sleet-covered uplands. And Sir Jasper, who had the countryman’s superstitious outlook on the weather, remembered Lord Murray, his cold, easy smile, as he said that the Langton bells were ringing out of tune.