“My lord,” replied Roland, willing rather to evade this question than to answer it directly, for the prudence of being silent with respect to Lord Seyton's adventure immediately struck him, “I have been in Edinburgh scarce an hour, and that for the first time in my life.”
“What! and thou Sir Halbert Glendinning's page?” said the Regent.
“I was brought up as my Lady's page,” said the youth, “and left Avenel Castle for the first time in my life—at least since my childhood—only three days since.”
“My Lady's page!” repeated the Earl of Murray, as if speaking to himself; “it was strange to send his Lady's page on a matter of such deep concernment—Morton will say it is of a piece with the nomination of his brother to be Abbot; and yet in some sort an inexperienced youth will best serve the turn.—What hast thou been taught, young man, in thy doughty apprenticeship?”
“To hunt, my lord, and to hawk,” said Roland Graeme.
“To hunt coneys, and to hawk at ouzels!” said the Regent, smiling; “for such are the sports of ladies and their followers.”
Graeme's cheek reddened deeply as he replied, not without some emphasis, “To hunt red-deer of the first head, and to strike down herons of the highest soar, my lord, which, in Lothian speech, may be termed, for aught I know, coneys and ouzels;-also I can wield a brand and couch a lance, according to our Border meaning; in inland speech these may be termed water-flags and bulrushes.”
“Thy speech rings like metal,” said the Regent, “and I pardon the sharpness of it for the truth.—Thou knowest, then, what belongs to the duty of a man-at-arms?”
“So far as exercise can teach—it without real service in the field,” answered Roland Graeme; “but our Knight permitted none of his household to make raids, and I never had the good fortune to see a stricken field.”
“The good fortune!” repeated the Regent, smiling somewhat sorrowfully, “take my word, young man, war is the only game from which both parties rise losers.”