Sir Patrick Hepborne’s Journey North—Passes through Edinburgh—King Robert II.—The Wilds of the Highlands—The Celtic Host.
Our history now returns to the younger Sir Patrick Hepborne, whom we left about to commence his journey towards the North. He had no sooner parted from his sister, the Lady Isabelle, and joined his esquire and cortege, under the trees by the side of the Tyne, than he espied a handsome youth, clad in the attire of a page, who came riding through the grove towards a ford of the river. He was mounted on a sorry hackney, carrying his valise behind him, and was guided by a clown, who walked by his bridle. The boy showed symptoms of much [[172]]amazement and dismay on finding himself thus so unexpectedly surrounded by a body of armed men; and he would have dropped from his horse, from sheer apprehension, had not Sir Patrick’s kind and courteous salutation gradually banished his alarm.
“Who art thou, and whither goest thou, young man?” demanded the knight, in a gentle tone and manner.
“I am a truant boy, Sir Knight,” replied the youth, in a trembling voice; “I have fled from home that I might see somewhat of the world.”
“And where may be thy home?” demanded Sir Patrick.
“On the English bank of the Tweed,” replied the boy.
“Ha!” exclaimed Sir Patrick, “and why hast thou chosen to travel into Scotland, rather than to explore the Southern parts of thine own country?”
“Verily, because I judged that there was less chance of my being looked for on this side the Border,” replied the boy. “Moreover, the peace that now prevails hath made either side safe enow, I hope, for travel.”
“Nay, that as it may happen,” said the knight. “But why didst thou run away from thy friends, young man? Was it that thou wert evil-treated.”
“Nay, rather, Sir Knight, that I was over charily cockered and cared for,” replied the boy; “more especially by my mother, at home, who, for dread of hurt befalling me, would give me no license to disport myself at liberty with other youths. I was, as it were, but a page of dames. But, sooth to say, I have been long tired of dames and damosels, and knitting, and broidery, and all the little silly services of women.”