The traitor gazed complacently at his handiwork, and then concealing it under his scarlet mantle, he returned to the tapestried room, where Kyneff was still drinking, and Sir James Shaw was now lying prostrate on the matted floor, and completely intoxicated.
CHAPTER XVI.
ANOTHER SON-IN-LAW!
But state-craft, mainly, was his pride and boast
'The golden medium' was his guiding star,
Which means 'Move on until you're uppermost,
And then things can't be hotter than they are!'
Brief in two rules, he summed the ends of man—
Keep all you have, and try for all you can!
KING ARTHUR.
Next day was Sunday, and, as usual in that age, the people of Dundee, after mass, were shooting at the butts with arquebus and bow; for, by the same act of the Scottish legislature which abolished the games of football and golf, targets were ordained to be set up by the sheriffs near every parish kirk, where, busked as archers, all the young men repaired to shoot at least six arrows, each a clothyard long, under fine of twopence; and thus in every town, however small, there was an arrow-maker who drove a thriving trade, though firearms were rapidly superseding the more ancient weapon, in the use of which the Lowland Scots never equalled the English or the Highlanders.
The Duke of Rothesay, with Lord Lindesay and other young courtiers, mingled with the burgesses, and took shot about in their turn among the sailcloth-wabsters, bonnet-makers, and baxters at the butts; for it was one of the greatest charms, and the leading wish of the Stuart princes while in Scotland, to be considered a part of the people, rather than as jewelled demi-gods enthroned on pedestals, and placed above the lot of common humanity. On this morning, it was remarked that the young prince did not shoot as was his wont, that his arrows fell wide of the mark; that he was abstracted, careless, and fretful; for overnight a trooper had arrived from the captain of the king's band in Annan, stating that there was a rumour of the old Bishop of Dunblane having been wantonly seized on the high seas by Sir Stephen Bull, an English captain, who had carried the reverend lord a prisoner, with all his papers, to Henry VII., at London.
Tidings like these spread like wildfire among the people, aggravating the angry bitterness occasioned by the assault on Barton's ships in time of peace; the English faction, and those who, for their own infamous ends, were anxious to further Rothesay's marriage with Margaret Tudor, hung their heads; while the national party, whose eyes were always turned towards the continent for royal alliances, openly exulted, and expressed the utmost resentment at an insult which yet required confirmation.
The first thought of the young prince was his Margaret, and of what her emotions would be; for on that kind bishop's return she had garnered up the inmost hopes of her heart. Oh! how he longed for evening, and cursed the lagging hours!
Evening came at last, and then more sombre night.
Masked, muffled in his cloak, and armed with his sword and poniard, Rothesay again left the little provincial palace of St. Margaret by the private door, and proceeded to the house of Lord Drummond. As he traversed the dark and narrow Fish-street, he did not perceive three watchers, who were also disguised, for they wore short black cloaks and iron salades, which completely concealed their faces, having only a horizontal slit for the eyes; they wore boots with felt soles, and had long swords at their girdles.