"None, save the king of England or his representative," urged Glencairn; "and he does so by the right of a treaty for the marriage of Edward with the daughter of King James, a treaty——"
"Which we do not recognize," interrupted Arran.
"What cared Henry of England for treaties?" exclaimed Arran's brother, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's,—"he who trampled on all laws, human and divine?"
"He hath gone to the place of his reward, sir priest," replied the rude Glencairn; "and now we have to deal, not with a dead king, but with the Duke of Somerset."
"A heretic as stout," continued the incensed primate, "though perhaps less lecherous and lustful."
"Lustful enough of our Scottish blood," said the gallant Earl of Huntly, with a smile, "if we may judge of his campaign among us here in '44, when we knew him as Edward Earl of Hertford."
"The result of all this chattering will be that we shall have war," said Glencairn. "The English will come——"
"With their Spanish and German auxiliaries——"
"Well, let them come," retorted Arran. "Our hills are steep, our streams are deep and swift, our hearts, I hope, as stout, and the swords bequeathed to us by our sires from a thousand bloody fields, are sharp and sure as ever! Let Somerset come, with his English billmen, his German pikes, and Spanish arquebuses: when true to herself, Scotland is unconquerable!"
"Thou art right, my lord," added the patriarch of Venice; "her people are unconquerable. But among her nobles are men ever ready to bend their necks to any chain of gold, or sell their faith and honour to the highest bidder!"