'Sir Quentin and I came by the way of London, for we had both to cross the borders with greater speed than was quite to our taste.'
'How so, sirs?' asked the Marechal de Logis, looking up from the muster-roll.
Lord Dundrennan coloured, but did not reply.
'You must know, sir,' said the Laird of Redden, 'that our friend the Viscount, to the great scandal of the kirk session and whole community of Dundrennan, conceived a vehement regard for the buxom wife of the abbey miller; and, with a dozen of Maxwells, all armed to the teeth, in back, breast, and pot, with partizan and pistol, he laid siege to the mill one night, when the moon was yet below the waves of the Solway. The dame, nothing loth, sprang into his arms from a back-window; but her devil of a husband, who resented this exceedingly, after permitting himself to bawl in a most unseemly manner, had recourse to an arquebuse, and from an eyelet-hole shot one of the Viscount's men through the jaws. A general riot ensued, and somehow, in the confusion, the mill was burned, and the poor miller was found drowned in his dam. My lord of Kirkcudbright, the steward of the stewartry, raised his vassals to punish these proceedings; and to avoid the Commissioners of Justiciary, my friend mounted a horse one night, crossed the borders, and went to London. There he met me in the Scots' Walk one day, looking out for a passage hither, for I too had become involved in an unpleasant scrape.'
'And had to leave Scotland hastily?'
'Yes, Marechal de Logis—it happened thus. One night, when riding near Berwick Bounds, with a few of my friends and kinsmen, all well horsed and armed with jack and spear, we found a herd of fine fat cattle grazing on the Debatable Land; and mistaking them for our own, we very naturally drove them homeward at a smart trot, ever and anon striking them with the flat of our swords, or administering a goad with the lance. Instead of being ours, however, they proved to be, unfortunately, the property of the English Governor of Berwick, who sent after us a party of horse, commanded by one of the King's captains. Now everybody knows that English troops dare not enter Scotland without violating the rights of the nation; thus a conflict ensued—the captain was a very troublesome fellow, so I ran him through the body; but we were defeated, and the cattle retaken. The English Governor complained to Sir Archibald Acheson, of Glencairn, the Secretary of State for Scotland, and warrants were issued against me; so one evening I marched off without beat of drum; but being without a passport, was taken at Carlisle, and sent back to Scotland. Our Secretary was disposed to be vindictive, and placed me in the castle of Lochmaben, charged with riot and felony; but my keeper, the Javellour, fell and broke his arm one day, while speaking to me; so I took care not to miss the opportunity, and wrenching away his keys, locked him up in my place. I then left the castle, and taking with me the best horse I could find, rode to Dumfries, where I sold my nag and a valuable ring, got shipping for England, and reached London with a few crowns in my pouch, bent on seeking foreign service. At the King's Head, in Southwark, I lived with the Viscount Dundrennan, who was on the same errand. The Rye carrier furnished us with saddle-horses, at twelve shillings a man. We reached Rye, one of the Cinque Ports, about sixty miles from the English capital, and put up at the Mermaid, outside the ramparts. The bully host was saucy to us, because we were Scots—so I stuffed his wig down his throat, while the Viscount flung all the furniture out of the windows. The churlish townsmen betook them to staves and bills; but we fought our way to a French lugger—one of those craft that are generally engaged in the conveyance of chalk from the cliffs near the East Bourne—and got clear off, with a few bruises. Landing at Dieppe, we lodged at the house of an Englishman, near the church of St. James. On the very day we arrived, I became, embroiled in an affair of honour. On the ramparts, which are the public promenade, a gentleman jostled me somewhat rudely, and passed on; but I twitched the end of his mantle, saying,
'"Monsieur will, of course, apologise?"
'"That, I think should rather be your task," said he.
'"A task it would be—but it shall be my pleasure to teach you politeness; follow me."
'We reached a retired place near the old castle of Dieppe—threw our hats and cloaks on the ground, and drew our rapiers.