"Plague take thee for a ruffling bully," thought Champfleurie. "But, by the blessed pig of St. Anthony, I shall kill thee like a cur, or I am no true Livingstone!"
People thought little of risking life, and less of fighting, in those days. But as Florence remembered the young love he had just left, her sweetness, her beauty, and passionate nature; and then his stern mother, who loved and prized him as an only son, the prop of her years, the last of his line and the hope of its vengeance, the idea that he might for ever take up his abode in the burial-place of Stirling, filled him with a temporary sadness and gloom. Fortunately, however, but brief time was left him for sombre reflection, as he had barely parted from Champfleurie when the young baron of Dalserfe approached, cap in hand, to say that the regent desired to speak with him immediately.
Florence remembered the warning of Champfleurie, and believing they had been watched, his first idea suggested a rebuke, if not captivity, for drawing sword in a royal castle, as Arran was endeavouring, but in vain, to repress the lawless and tumultory spirit of the time. However, on being ushered into his presence, his smile and welcome at once relieved the young man from all apprehension on that score.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE DOUGLAS ROOM.
Wist England's king that I was ta'en,
O gin a blythe man he would be;
For once I slew his sister's son,
And on his breast have broke a tree.
Ballad.
The regent was alone, and seated at a table covered with papers, in a small chamber of the royal apartments, in the north-west corner of the castle. It was hung with tapestry, worked by the hands of Mary of Gueldres, as this closet had been a favourite study or resort of her husband, James II., whose name, "Jacobus Scotorum Rex," with the legend, I.H.S. Maria Mother of the Saviour, may still be distinctly traced in golden letters, amid the elaborate carvings of the cornice. In this closet hung two well-battered suits of armour, which had been worn in a single combat in the valley of Stirling, on a day in the Lent of 1449, by two noble Burgundians, named De Lalain, one of whom, Jacques, was esteemed as the best knight in Europe; but they were both slain, after a severe and bloody conflict, by two gentlemen of the house of Douglas, in presence of James II., who acted as umpire or judge of the lists. In this little room, the same monarch, by one stroke of his dagger, slew William, sixth Earl of Douglas, whom he knew to be in league with others against the throne, and whose bleeding body was flung over the window by the captain of the guard, into the Nether Baillerie, where his bones were found in the beginning of the present century.
From this terrible episode, which, though warranted in some respects, fixed an indelible stigma on the reign of the second James; the closet is still known by the name of The Douglas Room.
Arran looked weary and thoughtful; for after the irritating convention, he had a long interview with his brother John, who was Archbishop of St. Andrew's and lord chancellor; and with David, Bishop of Ross, the secretary of state, whom Florence passed in earnest conversation together on the staircase as he ascended.
"Fawside," said he, "after what has occurred to-day, you and every other gentleman in Scotland, may look to your harness, for we shall have war ere the next month be past."