“Yes,” the falconer resumed,—for both as a poet and actor he had his own professional share of self-conceit,—“I think I was as good a Howleglas as ever played part at a Shrovetide revelry, and not a much worse Abbot of Unreason. I defy the Old Enemy to unmask me when I choose to keep my vizard on. What the devil brought the Knight on us before we had the game out? You would have heard me hollo my own new ballad with a voice should have reached to Berwick. But I pray you, Master Roland, be less free of cold steel on slight occasions; since, but for the stuffing of my reverend doublet, I had only left the kirk to take my place in the kirkyard.”
“Nay, spare me that feud,” said Roland Graeme, “we shall have no time to fight it out; for, by our lord's command, I am bound for Edinburgh.”
“I know it,” said Adam Woodcock, “and even therefore we shall have time to solder up this rent by the way, for Sir Halbert has appointed me your companion and guide.”
“Ay? and with what purpose?” said the page.
“That,” said the falconer, “is a question I cannot answer; but I know, that be the food of the eyases washed or unwashed, and, indeed, whatever becomes of perch and mew, I am to go with you to Edinburgh, and see you safely delivered to the Regent at Holyrood.”
“How, to the Regent?” said Roland, in surprise.
“Ay, by my faith, to the Regent,” replied Woodcock; “I promise you, that if you are not to enter his service, at least you are to wait upon him in the character of a retainer of our Knight of Avenel.”
“I know no right,” said the youth, “which the Knight of Avenel hath to transfer my service, supposing that I owe it to himself.”
“Hush, hush!” said the falconer; “that is a question I advise no one to stir in until he has the mountain or the lake, or the march of another kingdom, which is better than either, betwixt him and his feudal superior.”
“But Sir Halbert Glendinning,” said the youth, “is not my feudal superior; nor has he aught of authority—”