After leaving Edinburgh, Hepborne travelled by St. Johnstoun, and presented himself before King Robert the Second at Scone, where he then happened to be holding his court. The venerable monarch received him in the most gracious and flattering manner.
“Thy renommie hath outrun thy tardy homeward step, Sir Knight,” said His Majesty, “for we have already heard of thy gallant deeds abroad. Perdie, we did much envy our faithful ally and brother of France, and did grudge him the possession of one of the most precious jewels of our court, and one of the stoutest defences of our throne. We rejoice, therefore, to have recovered what of so good right belongeth to us, and we hope thou wilt readily yield to our command that thou shouldst remain about our royal person. Since old age hath come heavily upon us, marry, we the more lack such staunch and trusty props.”
“My Most Gracious Liege,” said Hepborne, “I shall not be wanting in my duty of obedience to your royal and gratifying [[176]]mandate. At present I go to attend this tourney of my Lord of Moray’s, and I go the more gladly, that I may have an opportunity of meeting with my peers of the baronage, of Scottish chivauncie, whom my absence in France hath hitherto prevented my knowing. Having your royal leave to follow out mine intent, I shall straightway render myself in your grace’s presence, to bow to your royal pleasure.”
“By doing so, Sir Patrick,” said the King, “thou wilt much affect us to thee. We have of late had less of thy worthy father’s attendance on our person than we could have wished. Mansuete as he is in manners, sage in council, and lion-hearted in the field, we should wish to see him always in our train. But we grieve for the sad cause of his retirement. Thy virtuous mother’s sudden death hath weighed heavily on him, yet must he forget his grief. Let a trental of masses be said for her soul;—he must bestir himself anon, and restore to us and to his country the use of those talents, of that virtue and bravery with which he hath been so eminently blessed, and which were given him for our glory and Scotland’s defence. If thou goest by the most curt and direct way into Moray Land, thou wilt pass by our son Alexander Earl of Buchan’s Castle of Lochyndorbe. Him must thou visit, and tell him that we ourselves did urge thee to claim his hospitality.”
Hepborne readily promised that he would obey His Majesty’s injunctions in that respect, and took his leave, being charged with a letter for the Earl, from the King, under his private signet.
His route lay northwards, through the centre of Scotland. As he journeyed onwards, through deep valleys and endless forests, and over high, wide, and barren wastes, he compared in his own mind the face of the country with the fertile regions of France, which he had so lately left. But still, these were the mountains of his fatherland that rose before his eye, and that name allied them to his heart by ties infinitely stronger than the tame surface of cultivation could have imposed. His soul soared aloft to the summits of the snow-topt Grampians, where the hardy and untameable spirit of Scotland seemed to sit enthroned among their mists, and to bid him welcome as a son.
He made each day’s journey so easy, on account of the tender page, that a week had nearly elapsed ere he found himself in the upper part of the valley of the Dee. It was about sunset when he reached a miserable-looking house, which had been described to him as one accustomed to give entertainment to travellers. It was situated under some lofty pines on the edge of the forest. The owner of this mansion was a Celt; a tall, [[177]]stout, athletic man of middle age, clad in the garb of the mountaineers. Having served in the wars against the English, he had acquired enough of the Southron tongue to enable Hepborne to hold converse with him. The knight and the page (whom, notwithstanding his injunction to Mortimer Sang, he had yet kept always within his own eye) were ushered together into a large sod-built apartment, where a cheerful fire of wood burned in the middle of the floor. The squire and the rest of the party were bestowed in a long narrow building of the same materials, attached to one end of it. The night had been chilly on the high grounds they had crossed, and the fire was agreeable. They sat them down, therefore, on wooden settles close to it, and the rude servants of their host hastened to put green boughs across the fire, and to lay down steaks of the flesh of the red-deer to be cooked on them.
Meanwhile the host entered with a wooden stoup in his hand, and poured out for them to drink, into a small two-eared vessel of the same material. The liquor was a sort of spirit, made partly from certain roots and partly from grain; and was harsh and potent, but rather invigorating. Hepborne partook of it, but the page would on no account taste it.
“Fu?” said Duncan MacErchar, for that was their host’s name, “fu! fat for will she no drink?”
“He is right,” said Hepborne; “at his age, water should be his only beverage.”