“Let us disperse ourselves through the baggage-lines, and rouse up the wainmen and varlets, and the other camp followers,” cried Rory Spears, after taking the bugle from his mouth.
“Thou art right, Rory,” said Sang; “we may do much to support the guard. Let Riddel, and I, and some others, hasten to the entrenchments, to keep up spirit among those who may now be fighting, with the hope of speedy aid, and do thou and the rest quickly gather what force ye may, and straightway bring them thither. The point of assault is narrow. If we can keep back the foe, were it but until the main body of the army be alarmed, should our lives be the forfeit, they would be [[446]]bravely spent, for we might be the saving of Scotland’s honour this night.”
“Ralpho Proudfoot, companion of my youth,” cried Robert Lindsay, kindly, “we have striven together for many a prize; now let our struggle be for glory.”
“Away, away,” cried Sang; and he and Riddel sprang off to the trenches, followed by Lindsay and Proudfoot, whilst Rory hied him away at the head of the others, all blowing their horns, and shouting loudly through the lines, as if the whole Scottish array had been there, and ready to turn out. The huts were soon deserted. Such as they met with in their way they collected together, and armed as fast as they could with whatever weapons lay nearest to hand; and in a very short time these few intelligent and active heads had assembled a force, neither very numerous nor very well appointed, it is true, but, when headed by men so determined, amply sufficient to defend a narrow pass between marches for a considerable time, especially against assailants who were awed by the conviction, favoured by the darkness, that they were attacking the camp where the whole Scottish army were lodged.
While things were in this state in the baggage camp, the banquet in the pavilion of Lord Douglas was going on with all that quiet and elegant cheerfulness of demeanour beseeming a party chiefly composed of the very flower of Scottish chivalry. The talk was of the love of the ladies, and the glories of tilts and tournaments. Sir Patrick Hepborne was seated between Sir John Halyburton and Sir William de Dalzel. With the former of these knights he recalled some of the circumstances of their friendly meeting at Tarnawa, and the Lady Jane de Vaux was not forgotten between them. Sir William de Dalzel changed the theme to that of the challenge which had passed between the Lord Welles and Sir David Lindsay. Then Sir David Lindsay himself and several others joining in the conversation, it gradually became general around the board. Sir William de Keith, the Marischal of Scotland, displayed his consummate learning on the subject of such challenges between knights; and Sir John de Gordon, Lord of Strathbolgy; Sir John Montgomery; Sir Malcolm Drummond, brother-in-law to the Douglas, as well as to the Scottish champion, who was the person most concerned in the debate; Sir Alexander Fraser of Cowie, and many others, spoke each of them ably as to particular points. The Douglas himself then delivered his judgment with clearness and precision, and the attention with which his words were listened to showed how valuable they were esteemed by [[447]]those who heard them. After this topic was exhausted, the Earl was indefatigable in ministering to the entertainment of his guests by ingeniously drawing forth the powers of those around him; and his deportment was in every respect so much more than ordinarily felicitous, and so perfectly seasoned by graceful condescension, that all at table agreed he never had charmed them more, and that, as he was the hardiest warrior of all in the field, and the most resistless lance in the lists, so was he by far the most accomplished and witty chevalier at the festive board.
The rational happiness of the evening was approaching its height, and the Douglas was occupying universal attention by something he was saying, when, to the surprise of every one, he suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, and turned up his ear to listen.
“Methought I heard a bugle-blast from the baggage lines,” cried he, with a flash in his eye that denoted the utter extinction of every other thought but that of the enemy.
“Perdie, I did hear it also,” cried the Earl of Moray; “nor was it strange to me. Methought I did recognize it for one of Rory Spears’ hunting-mots. He doth feast his friends to-night at the sutlerage, in honour of his newly-acquired squireship; so, peraunter, he doth give them music with their ale.”
“Ha, heard ye that?” cried several of the knights at once.
“Nay, there be more performers than one there,” cried the Douglas, rising quickly to gain the outside of the pavilion, whilst the whole of the knights crowded after him.