CHAPTER XLII.
THE LOVER AND THE SPY.
"O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps,
And now falls on her bed."—Shakespeare.
The approaching vessels had been descried already from the ships of Howard, who fired a cannon to quicken his boat; and the moment it was on board and hoisted in, with its provisions he desired all to be cleared away for battle, and ordered Borthwick to attend him in his cabin.
"Well, thou bird of ill omen," said he, while arming himself, "what evil wind hath blown thee on board the Harry to-night? Speak out, and briefly, too; try none of thy cobler tricks with me."
"I have come with a message from the Lords at Leith——"
"Ah! they are there, then; and the rumours we have heard are true: has the King of Scotland fought a battle and been defeated?"
"Yes, and hath fled, no man knows whither," said Borthwick, with a dark smile on his pale face, while he could not repress a twinge of uneasiness at the mention of the king's name, for he saw ever before him—when alone for a moment—that ghastly corpse, lying where he had flung it, in the ditch beside the Bannock.
"And so young Rothesay now is king," said Howard, sadly, and pausing while he braced his corslet.
"No—nor can be, until we ascertain that the king, his father, is dead."