After sufficient time had elapsed to allow the travellers to remove the traces of travel from their persons, they were summoned to a small room where they found a most welcome and substantial meal set out for them. A generous flagon of wine stood by each trencher; it was the first the king had had an opportunity of tasting since he left his capital, and he seized upon the measure with some eagerness.
“Here’s to the MacLeod!” he cried.
“I drink to the king, and good luck to him!” said MacDonald.
“I drink to anything, so long as the wine is sound,” rejoined his majesty, enjoying a deep draught. “E-god, Jamie,” he cried setting the flagon down again, “that’s better claret than we have in Stirling.”
“There is no reason why it shouldn’t be excellent,” replied MacDonald, “for the laird’s own ships bring it direct from the coast of France to the coast of Skye, and there’s little chance of adulteration between the two.”
When the repast was finished the aged man who had received them at the door entered and announced that MacLeod of MacLeod was ready to greet them in his study. They followed him and were ushered into an oblong room somewhat larger than the one they had left. The king was astonished to find the walls lined with numerous volumes, some of the tomes massive in heavy binding. As books were not over-plentiful even in the realms of civilisation, he had not expected to find them in a corner of the world so remote.
Allaster the Hunchback sat by the side of a huge oaken table, and he did not rise from his chair when his visitors were presented to him, either because he wished the better to conceal the deformity which gave him his nickname, or because he did not consider his guests of such importance as to deserve a more courteous reception. He addressed them in excellent English, and the king constituted himself spokesman for the occasion, MacDonald standing by taciturn, in spite of the excellence of the wine, which indeed he had consumed somewhat sparingly.
“I understand,” began MacLeod, “that you have honoured my poor rugged island of Skye with your presence for some days.”
“The honour, sir, has been ours,” replied the king with an inclination of his head. “I was visiting my friend MacDonald in Sleat and heard of the king’s barge, so we came over to see it.”
“This is your friend MacDonald of Sleat then?”