“I’ll empty one with pleasure if the drawer will charge it.”
“We have no drawer, Armstrong, but wait on ourselves, trusting the lugs of a cogie rather than the ears of a scullion. So I’ll be your cup-bearer, Will.”
“Thank you kindly, my lord, but I’ll help myself, as my ancestor said to the Duke of Northumberland when he drove away the English cattle. The man who will not stretch an arm to slake a thirst deserves a dusty road all day with no bothy at the end of it.” And, saying this, the young man drank long and well.
The sentinel had by this time got on his feet and was staring at the company like one dazed. “Where’s your pike?” demanded Traquair.
“On the stanes ootside, ma lord.”
“Very well, go out and lift it, and see that you hold a better grip of it when the next man comes along. Attend to Armstrong’s horse, and keep an eye up and down the road.”
“I’ll look after my own beast, Traquair.”
“No need for that, Will. We have matters of importance to discuss, and Angus here will feed the horse as well as you can do it.”
“I’ll eat and drink whatever’s set before me, and never ask who is the cook, but I trust no man to wait on my horse. You bide by your sentry march, Angus, and I’ll see to the beast.”
With this Armstrong strode out of the house, the ill-used sentinel following him. As the door closed, the interrupted hum of conversation rose again.