The reason of the monarch thus taking the air before his people, was to give confidence to the good citizens of Aberdeen, amidst the exaggerated rumours of invasion, by showing himself so surrounded by his dauntless barons.
The infirm old King, plainly habited in a purple velvet mantle, lined with fur, and purple silk nether garments, with grey woollen hose, folded amply over them, for the comfort of his frail limbs, leaning upon his son the Earl of Fife, and partly supported by his much-favoured son-in-law, the Earl of Moray, took his broad hat and plume with dignity from his head, and, showing his long snowy hair, bowed gracefully around to the people, and then began to walk slowly backwards and forwards, aiding himself partly with his son’s arm and partly with a cane, now stopping to converse familiarly with some of the ladies, or of the many nobles and knights by whom he was attended, or [[358]]halting occasionally, as if suddenly interested in some person or thing he noticed among the crowd, and then again resuming his walk with all the marks of being perfectly at home among his people. The show, if show it might be called, went not on silently, for ever and anon the enthusiasm of the vulgar getting the better of their awe for majesty, their voices again rose to heaven in one universal and startling peal. The gallant groups of nobles and knights, who, by their numerous attendance on the King, gave strength to the throne in the eyes of the people, were also hailed with gratifying applause; and even some of the more renowned leaders among them were singled out and lauded by the plaudits of the spectators. Among these the Douglas was most prominently distinguished, and the good John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, had his ample share.
How important do the smallest, the most pitifully trifling circumstances of a King’s actions appear in the eyes of his people! All those of his nobles or knights to whom Robert chanced particularly to extend his Royal attention, were it but for a minute, were noted by the shrewd observation of the Aberdonienses as among the favoured of the Court, and many a plan was hatched by individuals among the spectators for winning their patronage. Not a movement of His Majesty, not a turn, not a look, escaped remark, and the mightiest results were augured from signs the most insignificant.
It happened that Sir Patrick Hepborne was standing with his father not far from the lower extremity of the open space, when the King came up to them. He had particularly noticed both of them before; and the acclamations of the people, who knew the deeds of the elder knight, and already loved the younger for his father’s sake, showed how much their hearts beat in unison with this mark of their Sovereign’s approbation. But now the King had something more to say to Sir Patrick the elder than merely to honour him in the eyes of the people, with an appearance of familiarity. He really wanted his advice with regard to the proposed armament, and to have his private opinion of certain matters ere the council should sit. With monarchs, opportunities of private conference with those they would speak to, are difficult to be commanded without remark; their actions, and the actions of those about them, are watched too closely to permit them to be approached without begetting speculation. A politic King is therefore obliged to catch at and avail himself of moments for business which are perhaps but ill suited for it; and it is often in the most crowded assemblage that they run the smallest risk of suspicion of being engaged in [[359]]anything serious. Robert, leaning on his two attendants, stood unusually long in conference with the Hepbornes. The fatigue and pain which he suffered in his limbs, by being detained in the standing posture for so great a length of time, was sufficiently manifest from the uneasy lifting and shifting of his feet, though his countenance, full of fire and animation when he spoke himself, and earnestly fixed in attention to what Sir Patrick Hepborne said to him in return, had no expression in it that might have led the spectator to believe that it was at all connected with the frail and vexed limbs that supported it, but which it seemed to have altogether forgotten in the intensity of the interest of the subject under discussion.
While the personages of this group were thus engaged, a considerable movement in that part of the crowd near them, followed by some struggling and a good many high words, suddenly attracted their notice. A momentary expression of anxiety, if not of fear, crossed the wan features of royalty. The Earl of Moray and the two Hepbornes showed by their motions that they were determined to secure the King’s safety at the risk of their own lives; for, with resolute countenances, they laid their hands on their swords, and stepped between him and the point from which the danger, if there was any, must come, and to which their eyes were directed. The Earl of Fife acted independently. He made a wheel, which was difficult to be explained, but halted and fronted by the side of his father again, immediately in rear of the Earl of Moray and his two companions. The crowd, within a few yards of them, still continued to heave to and fro as if in labour, and at last a bulky figure appeared in the ancient Highland costume, and worming his way forward to the line of guards, immediately endeavoured to force a passage through between two of them. The two soldiers joined their spears to each other, and each of them grasped a butt and a point the more effectually to bar his progress. Undismayed by this their resolution, he in an instant put a hand on a shoulder of each of them, and raised himself up with the determined intention of hoisting himself over the obstruction. This action of his, however, was immediately met by a simultaneous and equally decisive movement on the part of the two guards. Just as he had succeeded in throwing one leg over the impediment, they, by a well-concerted effort, lifted him vigorously up, and horsed him upon the shafts of the coupled spears, amid the laughter of the surrounding populace. After some moments of rueful balancing upon his uneasy and ticklish saddle, during which he seemed to hang in dreadful doubt on which side he [[360]]was to fall, his large body at last overbalanced itself, and he rolled inwards towards the feet of the King, and those who were standing with him. The whole was the work of a moment.
A loud murmur, mingled with the shrieks of “Treason—traitorie!” arose among the anxious people; and all bodies, heads, and eyes were bent towards the scene of action, in dread lest something tragical should follow. The two guards pressed forward to transfix the unceremonious intruder with their spears as he lay on the ground.
“Back,” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne the younger, bestriding his body like a Colossus; “back, I say, this man must not be hurt; he means no evil; I will answer for him with my life.”
“Secure him at least, Sir Patrick,” cried the Earl of Fife.
“My Lord, I will be his security,” replied Sir Patrick. “He is a good and loyal subject, and nothing need be apprehended from him.”
“Is he not mad?” demanded Fife, with some anxiety. “Methinks his eye rolls somewhat wildly. By the mass, I like not his look overmuch.”