“Verily, I shall at least do for thee what I can,” replied Hepborne, heartily shaking his hand; “albeit so honourable a gift from thy King may not be lightly rejected. Yet will I do what I may for thee. Let me find thee with mine esquire to-morrow morning; thou shalt then hear the result of mine application to the King.”
Hepborne was as good as his word. He craved an audience of the King, and, being admitted to his couchee, the good monarch was pleased with the singularly disinterested wish of the Highlander, and immediately signified his gracious pleasure that MacErchar should retain the commission in his Guards, whilst [[368]]he should be permitted to follow the banner of Sir Patrick Hepborne to the wars. The old knight, who happened to be present, was much touched by Duncan’s devotion to him, and very gladly admitted him among his followers, so that every wish of MacErchar’s heart was more than gratified.
As Sir Patrick Hepborne was quitting the Royal apartments, and as he was passing through a small vestibule feebly illumined by a single lamp, he was almost jostled by a tall figure, who, enveloped in an ample mantle, was striding hastily forward towards the door of the room whence he had issued, the metal of his harness clanging as he moved.
“Ha! Sir Patrick Hepborne,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch, for it was he—“by the blessed bones of my grandfather, but thou art right far ben already in the old man’s favour, that I do thus meet thee ishing forth from his chamber at an hour like this; but thou art more welcome, peraunter, than his son the Earl of Buchan—Is the King alone?”
“By this time I do ween that he is, my Lord; for, as I left him, the Earl of Fife, the Earl of Moray, and my father, who had been in conference with him, were preparing to take their leave by another door, and the King was about to retire into his bed-chamber, with the gentlemen in waiting on his person.”
“Ha!” said the Wolfe—“John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, saidst thou?—By my word, but he seemeth to be eternally buzzing about the King, ay, and he doth buzz in his ear too, I warrant me. Hast thou seen or heard aught of the Bishop of Moray being here?”
“The Bishop of Moray had an audience of His Majesty this very day, on his arrival,” replied Hepborne; “and if I mistake not, he did take his leave, and hath already departed on his homeward journey.”
“Ha! ’tis well,” replied the Wolfe hoarsely, and gnashing his teeth as he said so. “Good night, Sir Patrick, I may, or I may not, see thee in Aberdeen at this time, for I know not whether I may, or may not, ride hence again anon.” So saying, he passed hastily towards the door leading to the King’s private chamber, to reach which he had several apartments to pass through.
The aged Robert, tired by the unusual fatigue he had that day undergone, was alike glad to get rid of business and of his privy councillors. Retiring into his bed-chamber, and laying aside the dignity of his high estate, his two attendants assisted him to put on his robe-de-chambre, and he immediately descended to the more humble level of a mere man, to which even [[369]]the greatest and most heroic potentate is reduced by the operations of his valet. His legs had been already relieved from those rolls of woollen which had been employed to cherish and to support them during the day; and being seated in an easy chair of large dimensions, among ample crimson cushions, his pale countenance showed yet more wan and withered under the dark purple velvet cap he wore, from beneath which his white hair curled over his shoulders. Though his eyes were weak and bleared, their full and undimmed pupils beamed mildly, like the stars of a summer twilight. He had just inserted his limbs knee-deep into a warm foot-bath, which one of his people had placed before his chair, when a loud tap was heard at the door.
“Ha!” said the King, starting, “get thee to the door, Vallance, and see who may knock so late. By the sound, we should opine that either rudeness or haste were there.”