“My liege,” said the reverend father, “I know no more how this has happened than the child that is unborn. There can be no doubt but that, instigated by some of your majesty’s enemies, the wretch, Ralpho, has mixed the poison himself, and has met with the fate he justly deserved.”
“No!” replied the king, “If that had been the case, he would not have been so ready in participating of the draught. I will not believe, but that there is a combination among you to take my life.”
Every one protested his innocence more strenuously than another.
The abbot was seized; and said, in his justification, “That he would show his majesty the set of wine from which he had ordered Ralpho to bring it, and he was willing to drink a share of any bottle of it that they chose;” which he did.
But this did not convince the king. He sent off privately a messenger to assemble the Border Chiefs, and bring them to his rescue—took his two favourite hounds with him into his chamber, placed a strong guard, counted his beads, and retired to rest.
Every means were tried next day by the nobles to dispel his majesty’s fears, and regain his confidence; and as nothing decisive could be produced against any one, they succeeded in some degree. New perplexities, however, continued to way-lay him, for he was throughout his whole life the prey of witches and evil spirits; and though he wrecked due vengeance on many, they still continued to harass him the more.
After high mass he had retired to his chamber to meditate, when the nobleman in waiting came in, and said, that a stranger wanted to speak with him on some urgent business. He was introduced, and any one may judge of the king’s astonishment, when he saw that it was the identical old man who had spoken to him on the mountain, and vanished, the day before. The king’s lip grew pale, and quivered as the stranger made his obeisance.
“Thou herald of danger, treason, and confusion, what seekest thou again with me?” said the king.
“I come, my liege,” said he, “to seek redress for the injured, and justice on the offenders. Your two favourite hounds came last night to the houses of two widows in Newstead, and have carried off their two children from their bosoms, which they have doubtlessly devoured, as no traces of them can be found.”