“Ha! by the ghost of my grandfather,” cried the Wolfe of Badenoch, who stood by, now restored to all his knightly splendour—“by the ghost of my grandfather, but I will not stand by to hear such names hurled without reason on my holy father confessor. As he is here to answer thee, Sir Patrick Hepborne, and as I would not willingly seem to interfere with justice, say what thou wilt of calm accusation, for I fear not that he will cleanse himself, whosoever may be foul. But, by all the holy saints, I swear that, friends though we have been, I will not hear the holy man so foully miscalled; and I am well willing to fight for him to the outrance, not only in this world, but in the next too, if chivalry be but carried thither.”
“Silence, son Alexander,” said the King; “speak not, I pray thee, with lips so irreverent. And do thou, Sir Patrick Hepborne, [[597]]proceed with thy charges, withouten these needless terms of reproach, the which are unseemly in our presence, and do but tend to inflame.”
“My liege,” said Sir Patrick, making an obeisance to the King, “I shall do my best to restrain my just indignation.—The Lady Beatrice, of whom I do now speak, did accompany me to Moray Land in the disguise of a page; and——”
“Ha!” exclaimed the King, starting with an air of surprise, and exchanging a look with the Franciscan and some others, that very much discomposed Sir Patrick; “so—dost thou confess this?”
“I do confess nothing, my liege,” replied Sir Patrick; “I do only tell the truth. When we were guests for some days to thee, my Lord of Buchan, at Lochyndorbe, this friar did enter the apartment of the Lady Beatrice armed with a dagger, and had she not fled from him to save her life, she had surely been murdered by his villainy. Already have I told that he did snatch her from the Tower of London, by means of false representations made to Friar Rushak, King Richard’s Confessor, and thence he did carry her by ship to Scotland, as I do know from Friar Rushak himself. I do therefore call on him to produce the damsel straightway, if indeed his cruelty hath not already put it beyond his power so to do.”
“Hast thou aught else to charge him withal?” demanded the King.
“Nay, my liege,” replied Hepborne, “but I require an immediate answer to these charges.”
“Before I do give a reply,” said the Franciscan, assuming a grand air, “I, on my part, do demand to know by what right Sir Patrick Hepborne doth thus question me.”
“Right, didst thou say?” exclaimed Hepborne; “I must answer thee by simply saying, that I do question thee by that right which every honourable knight hath to come forward in the cause of the unfortunate. But I will go farther, and say before all who are here present, that I do more especially appear here against thee for the unquenchable love I do bear to the Lady Beatrice.”
“Ha! so,” replied the Franciscan, with a bitter expression, “thou hast so far confessed that thou didst entertain the Lady Beatrice in thy company in male attire, and that thou dost cherish an unquenchable passion for her? Then, my liege, do I boldly accuse this pretended phœnix of virtue, this Sir Patrick Hepborne, of having stolen this damsel from the path of honour—of having plunged her in guilt—of having so bewitched her [[598]]by potent charms, that she did even follow him to London, whence, with much fatigue and stratagem, I did indeed reclaim her, yea, did bring her to Scotland in a ship. But she was not many hours on land when she so contrived as to flee from me; and no one can doubt that her flight was directed to him who hath thrown his sorcery over her, and to whom she hath made so many efforts basely to unite herself again.”