“Troth, after they had all trotted over her, the wind just came back again into her bodys,” replied MacErchar; “and so she got up till her legs, and shook hersel, and scratched her lugs, that were singing as loud as twenty throstle-birds; when back came the villains, running like furies before our men, and whirled her away wi’ them, or ever she kend, into the town. There she lay prisoners for mony a days, till she broke their jails, and made her way to the Highlands. But troth, she took her spulzie wi’ her, for she had hidden that afore, and kend whare to find it again.”
“Of a truth, the deed was one of the most desperate I did ever behold,” said Sir Patrick the elder, recurring to MacErchar’s action to which he had alluded. “He planted himself against a host, and seemed doomed to certain destruction. ’Tis a marvel that he is alive.”
Whilst Sir Patrick Hepborne and the Earl of Moray, who also remembered him, were holding some further conference with MacErchar, Sir Patrick the younger approached the King, and privately begged a boon of his Majesty, the particulars of which he specified to him.
“’Tis granted, Sir Patrick,” whispered the King; “but let it be asked of us aloud, that such part of the populace who may have been listening to what hath passed, may have their minds filled also with the wholesome ensample of their King rewarding virtue.”
In obedience to Robert’s command, Hepborne knelt before him, and addressed him in a loud and distinct voice.
“My liege, I do humbly beg a boon at thy Royal hands.”
“Speak forth thy volunde, Sir Patrick Hepborne,” replied the King; “there are few names in our kingdom the which may call for more ready attention from King Robert than that the which hath ever been heard shouted in the front of his armies, and in the midst of the ranks of his discomfited enemies.”
“The boon I do earnestly crave of your Majesty is, that you will be graciously pleased to bestow upon this gallant soldier, Duncan MacErchar, a commission in thy Royal Guard.” [[366]]
“He hath it,” replied the King, “he hath it cheerfully at thy request, Sir Patrick; and by the faith of a King, it doth right well pleasure us thus to exercise the happiest part of our Royal power—I do mean that of rewarding loyal bravery such as this man hath so proved himself to possess; yea, and no time so fitting, methinks, for the exercise of this power; for when war is beginning, we should show our people that we do know to reward those who do well and truly serve us.”
“Kneel down, kneel down, I say, before Robert King of Scotland,” said the Earl of Moray, slapping the astonished MacErchar upon the back, as he stood bereft of all sensation on discovering in whose presence he had been standing and prating so much. He obeyed mechanically, whilst a shout arose from that part of the crowd who had heard all that had passed, and was caught up gradually by those farther off, who cheered upon trust long ere the story could spread among them. The King moved away; but still Duncan remained petrified upon his knees, with his hands clasped, his eyes thrown up, and his mouth open, until Sir Patrick the younger showed himself his best friend by awaking him from his trance and leading him away, amidst the ceaseless shouts of the mob.