“How fareth thine excellent mother, Assueton?” demanded Hepborne jocularly; “thou hast doubtless ere this had enough of her good society, as well as of thy home.”
“Nay, of a truth, my dearest bel ami,” replied his friend, “parfay my conscience doth sorely smite me in that quarter. Verily, I have not yet seen mine excellent mother. Day after day have I been about to hie me to her, to receive her blessing; but something untoward hath ever arisen to detain me; and just as I was about to accomplish mine intent, I was hurried away hither by the King’s command. Perdie, I did never before think that I could have complained of the sudden outbreak of war; yet do I confess that I did in good earnest begrudge this unlooked-for call most bitterly.”
“And hath love or filial affection the most to do in exciting thy complaint, thinkest thou?” demanded Hepborne.
“Um! somewhat of both, perhaps,” replied Assueton gravely. “By St. Andrew, but I am an altered man, Hepborne. Nay, smile not; or rather, if it so pleaseth thee, smile as thou mayest list, for certes I am now case-hardened against thy raillery.”
CHAPTER LI.
King Robert at Aberdeen—Duncan MacErchar again.
The evening was beautiful, when the loyal inhabitants of Aberdeen, who, by their King’s temporary residence among them, were rendered eagerly alive to every little movement regarding him, began to be aware that something was in contemplation, from observing a slender guard of spearmen marching forth from the Castle, and forming in single files at about a yard between each, so as to enclose an extended oblong space on the upper part of the street. The populace began to crowd towards the barrier of spears, in expectation of something interesting, and soon formed a dense mass everywhere behind it. The houses overlooking the spot began to be filled with guests, too, who were glad to claim acquaintance with their inmates, for the sake of procuring places at the windows, which were all of them quickly occupied, as well as every one of those antique and [[357]]curiously applied outer stairs and whimsical projections that characterized the city architecture of the period.
Idle speculation became rapidly busy among the anxious gazers. All hoped they were to see the King, yet few thought the hope well founded; for the infirmities of age had so beset His Majesty that he was but little equal to undergo the labour of the parade attendant on his elevated rank, far less to endure public exhibitions of his person.
All doubt was soon put to an end, however. A distant flourish of trumpets was heard, and martial music followed, swelling and growing upon the ear as it slowly approached from the innermost recesses of the Castle. It burst forth with shriller clangour, and the performers presently issued from the Castle, preceding a grand procession of nobles, knights, and ladies, habited in the most magnificent dresses, followed by a small body of guards, in the midst of whom there was a splendid litter, having the Royal Arms, surmounted by the Crown of Scotland, placed over its velvet canopy. It was borne by twelve esquires, in the richest Royal liveries. Murmurs of self-congratulation and joyful greeting began to run around the assemblage of people; but when the litter was set down in the middle of the open space, and Robert II., their beloved monarch, the observer of justice, whose ears were ever open to the complaints of his meanest subjects, and of whom it was even commonly said that he never spoke word that he performed not—when the good King of Scotland was assisted forth from his conveyance, deafening shouts rent the air, and were prolonged unceasingly, till the lungs of the shouters waxed weary from their exertions.