CHAPTER LVIII.
Combat between Douglas and Hotspur—The Fight for the Pennon.
As the Earl of Douglas was sitting in his pavilion, in conversation with his chaplain, Richard Lundie, on the second day of his being before Newcastle, a squire in waiting announced to him that one of Lord Moray’s men wished to have a private interview with him.
“Give him entrance speedily,” said the Douglas, “his business may be of moment. He seeth me in private when he seeth me alone with him who knoweth mine inmost soul.”
The squire bowed and retired, and immediately returned to introduce—Rory Spears.
“Rory Spears!” exclaimed the Douglas; “what hath brought thee hither, and what hath my brother of Moray to tell my private ear through thy mouth? Thou art not the messenger he is used to send between us for such affairs. Were it a matter of wood or river craft, indeed, we might both recognize thee as a right trusty and merry ambassador; but at this time we have other game upon our hands. What hath Lord Moray to say?”
“My Lord Yearl o’ Douglas, naebody kens whaur gowd lies till it be howkit out,” replied Rory, with an obeisance. “Albeit that thou and the Yearl o’ Moray, my noble master, have never [[427]]yet discovered my talents that way, it proveth not that I do lack them. He who is stranger to the soil may chance to divine that, the which he who owneth it hath never dreamt of; and he——”
“What doth all this tend to, Rory Spears?” demanded the Earl of Douglas, interrupting him rather impatiently. “Trust me, though I may have trifled with thee at Tarnawa, this is no time for such idlesse.”
“Bide a wee, my Lord Yearl, bide a wee,” said Rory, with great composure; “call it not trifling till thou art possessed of the value of what I have to effunde unto thee. I was going to tell thee that he who doth own a man like me, ay, or a horse beast, for instance, may ken less o’ his qualifications than he who doth see him but for a gliff.”