“Regarding the king, his knowledge or his doings, you had better address your inquiries to him personally. We have no authority to speak for his majesty.”
“You are merely two private gentlemen, then, come all this distance to satisfy a love of travel and a taste for scenery?”
“You have stated the case with great accuracy, sir.”
“Yesterday you spoke of my lack of manners in failing to ask you to be seated; I shall now refer to a breach of politeness on your own part. It is customary when strangers visit a province under an acknowledged ruler, that they should make a formal call upon the ruler before betaking themselves to other portions of his territory. You remained for several days in Skye without taking the trouble to inform me of your arrival.”
“Sir,” replied James haughtily, “I dispute your contention entirely. You are not the ruler of Skye.”
“Who is then?”
“The King of Scotland, of course.”
The MacLeod laughed in a fashion that somewhat resembled the snarl of an angry dog.
“Of course, as you say. No one disputes that James is king of all Scotland, and I would be the last to question his right, because I hold my lands under charter bearing his signature, carrying the Great Seal of the kingdom; nevertheless, the MacLeods held Skye long before the present royal family of Scotland were heard of, and I would have been MacLeod of MacLeod although James had never put his hand to this parchment. Meanwhile, I take the risk of detaining you until I learn more about you, and if the king makes objection, I shall apologise.”
“You will apologise,” said James sternly.