 CHAPTER 7 PART 1 OF A PRINCE OF GOOD FELLOWS This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr CHAPTER 7 PART 1 THE KING'S VISIT No, no, said the King decisively. Bring them in, bring them in. I'll have none cast into prison without at least a hearing. Have any of your men been killed? No, Your Majesty, replied Sir Donald, but some of them have wounds they will not forget in a hurry. The Highlandmen fought like tiger-cats. How many are there of them? asked the King. Something more than a score with a piper that's noisier than the other twenty, led by a breachless ruffian, although I must say he knows what to do with a sword. All armed, you say? Every one of them but the piper. About half an hour ago they came marching up the main street of Sterling, each man with his sword drawn and the pipes scurreling death and defiance. They had the whole town at their heels laughing and jeering at them and imitating the wild Highland music. At first they paid little attention to the mob that followed them, but in the square their leader gave a word in Gaelic, and at once the whole company swerved about and charged the crowd. There was instant panic among the townspeople who fled in all directions out screaming the piper in their fright. No one was hurt for the Highlandmen struck them with the flat of their swords, but several were tramped underfoot and are none the better for it. It serves them right, commented the King. I hope it will teach them manners towards strangers, at least. What followed? A whistle from their leader collected the helots again and so they marched straight from the square to the gates of the castle. The two soldiers on guard crossed pipes before them, and the leader without a word struck down their weapons and attempted to march in. Brave as you please, who but they? There was a bit of a scuffle at the gate. Then the bugle sounded and we surrounded them, trying to disarm them peaceably at first, but they fought like demons and so there are some sore heads among them. You disarmed them, of course? Certainly, Your Majesty. Very well, bring them in, and let us hear what they have to say for themselves. The door was flung open, a sharp command was given, and presently there ended the group of Highlanders, disarmed and with their elbows tied behind their backs. A strong guard of the soldiery accompanied them on either side. The Highlanders were men of magnificent physique, a quality that was enhanced by the picturesque costume they wore, in spite of the fact that in some instances this costume was in tatters, and the wearers cut and bleeding. But stalwart as his followers were, their leader far out-measured them in height and girth, a truly magnificent specimen of the human race, who strode up the long room with an imperial swagger, such as had never before been seen in sterling, in spite of the fact that his arms were pinioned. He marched on until he came before the king, and there took his stand, without any indication of bowing his bonneted head, or bending his sturdy bare knees. The moment the leader set his foot across the threshold, the anabashed piper immediately protruded his chest and struck up the wild strain of Faildemurch and Abba, or the salute to the chief. Stop it ye devil! cried the captain of the guard. How dare you set up such a squawking in the presence of the king! And as the piper paid not the slightest attention to him, he struck the mouthpiece from the lips of the performer. This, however, did not cause a cessation of the music, for the bag under the piper's elbow was filled with wind, and the fingers of the musician bravely kept up the strain on the reed-chanter with its nine holes, and thus he played until his chief came to stand before the king. The king gazed with undisguised admiration upon the foremost highlander, and said quietly to the captain of the guard, Unbind him! On finding his arms released, the mountaineer stretched them out once or twice, then folded them across his breast, making no motion, however, to remove his plumb bonnet, although everyone else in the room except himself and his men were uncovered. You have come in from the country! began the king a suspicion of a smile hovering about his lips, to enjoy the metropolitan delights of sterling. How are you satisfied with your reception? The big highland man made no reply but frowned heavily and bestowed a savage glance on several of the courtiers, among whom a light ripple of laughter had run after the king put his question. These savages suggested Sir Donald, do not understand anything but the gaily. Is it your majesty's pleasure that the interpreter be called? Yes, bring him in. When the interpreter arrived, the king said, Ask this man if his action is the forefront of a highland invasion of the lowlands, or merely a little private attempt on his own part to take the castle by assault. The interpreter put the question in gaily and was answered with gruff gravity by the marauder. The interpreter, bowing low to the king, said smoothly, This man humbly begs to inform your majesty. Speak truth, MacPherson, cautioned the king. Translate faithfully exactly what he says. Our friend here, by the look of him, does not do anything humbly or fawn or beg. Translate accurately what does he say. The polite MacPherson was taken aback by this reproof but answered. He says your majesty he will hold no communication with me because I am of an inferior clan which is untrue. The MacPhersons were a civilized clan centuries ago which the McNabs are not to this day, so please your majesty. The McNabs hand darted to his left side but finding no sword to his grasp it fell away again. You are a liar, cried the chief in very possibly English which was not to be misunderstood. The MacPhersons are no clan but an insignificant branch of the Chutton. Touch not the curt is your motto and a good one for a MacPherson can scratch but he cannot handle the broadsword. MacPherson drew himself up his face reddening with anger. His hand also sought instinctively the hilt of his sword but the presence in which he stood restricted him. It is quite safe, he said with something like the spit of a cat for heathen to insult a Christian in the presence of his king and the McNabs have ever shown a taste for the cautious course. Turt, turt, cried the king with impatience. Am I to find myself involved in a highland void in my own hall? MacPherson, it seems this man does not require your interpreting so perhaps it will further the peace of our realm if you withdraw quietly. MacPherson with a low obeisance did so. Then to McNab the king spoke. Sir, it appears you are acquainted with our language. Why did you not reply to the question I put to you? Because I would have you know it was not the proper kind of question to ask the like of me. I am a descendant of kings. Well, as far as that goes, I am a descendant of kings myself though sorry I should be to defend all their actions. Your family only began with Robert de Bruze. Mine was old ere he came to the throne. That may well be. Still you must admit what Robert lacked in ancestry if furnished forth inability. But the clan McNab defeated him at the battle of Delry. True with some assistance which you ignore from Alexander of Argel. However, if this discussion is to become a competition in history for the benefit of our ignorant courtiers I may be allowed to add that my good ancestor Robert did not forget the actions of the McNabs at Delry and later overran their country dismantled their fortresses leaving the clan in a more sane and chastened condition than that in which he found it. But what has all this to do with your coming storming into a peaceable town like Sterling? In truth, your majesty, whispered Sir David Lindsay, I think they must have come to replenish their wardrobe and in that they are not a moment too soon. I came, said the chief, who had not heard this last remark. Because of the foray you have mentioned I came because Robert de Bruze desolated our country. By my good sword, cried James, speaking as one king to another, your revenge is somewhat belated. A lapse of two centuries should have outlawed the debt. Do you expect then to take Sterling with twenty men? I expected King James the Fifth to rectify the wrong done by King Robert the First. Your expectation does honour to my reputation as a just man, but I have already disclaimed responsibility for the deeds of ancestors less remote than good King Robert. You have made proclamations in the Highlands that the chieftains must bring you proof of their right to occupy their lands. I have, and some have preferred to me their deeds of tenure. Others prepared to fight. The cases have been settled in both instances. To which of these two classes do you belong? Chief of the clan McNabb. To neither. I cannot submit to you our parchments because Robert, your ancestor, destroyed them. I cannot fight the army of the Lowlands because my clan is small. Therefore I, Finlay McNabb, Fifth of my name, as you are Fifth of yours, come to you in peace, asking you to repair the wrong done by your ancestor. Indeed, cried the King, if the present advent typifies your idea of a peaceful visit, then God forfeit that I should ever meet you in anger. I came in peace and have been shamefully used. You must not hold that against us, said James. Look you now, if I had come storming at your castle door, sword in hand, how would you have treated me, Finlay the Fifth? If you had come with only twenty men behind you, I should treat you with all the hospitality of Glendohart, which far exceeds that of sterling or any other part of your money-making Lowlands, where gold coin is valued more than a steel blade. It has all been a mistake, said the King with great cordiality. The parchment you seek shall be given you, and I trust that your generosity, Lord of Glendohart, will allow me to mend your opinion of sterling hospitality. I shall take it kindly if you will be my guest in the castle until my officers of Low repair the harshness of my ancestor Robert. Then turning to the guard, the King continued, unbind these gentlemen and return to them their arms. While the loosening of the men was rapidly being accomplished, the captain of the guard brought the chief his sword and would have presented it to him, but the King himself rose and took the weapon in his own hand, tendering it to his sonar. The chieftain accepted the sword and rested its point on the floor. Then, in dignified native courtesy, he doffed his broad-feathered bonnet. Sire, he said with slow deliberation, Scotland as a king that this good blade shall ever be proud to serve. For three days the McNabs were the guests of the King in the castle, while the legal documents were being prepared. King and chieftain walked the town together, and all that sterling had to show McNab beheld. The King was desirous of costuming, at his own expense, the portion of the clan that was now in his castle, whose disarray was largely due to his own soldiers, but he feared the proposal might offend the pride of Finlay the Fifth. James tacked, however, overcame the difficulty. When I visit you, McNab, over by Lochte, there is one favour I must ask. I want your tailors to make for me and the men of my following, suits of kilts in the McNab tartan. Surely, surely, replied the Chief, and a better weaving you will get nowhere in the Highlands. I like the colour of it, continued the King. There is a royal red in it that pleases me. Now there is a good deal of red in the steward tartan, and I should be greatly gratified if you would permit your men to wear my colours, as my men shall wear yours. My tailors here will be proud to boast that they have made costumes for the clan McNab. You know what tradesmen bodies are. They are pleased when we take a little notice of them. Surely, again, replied McNab, more dubiously, and I shall send them the money for it when I get home. Indeed, said the King, if you think I am going to have a full purse when I am in the McNab country, you are mistaken. I never suggested such a thing, replied the Chief indignantly. You will can't name of your Ain Bobis when you are with me. Ah, well, rejoined the King. That's right, and so you will just leave me to settle with my own tailors here. End of chapter 7 part 1, read by Lars Rolander. Chapter 7 part 2 of A Prince of Good Fellows This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Lars Rolander A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr Chapter 7 part 2 Thus the recostuming came about, and all in all it was just as well that McNab did not insist on his own tartan, for there was none of it in sterling, while of the steward played there was a sufficiency to clothe a regiment. On the last night there was a banquet given, which was the best the sterling could bestow in honour of the clan McNab. The great hall was decorated with the colours of the clan, and at the further end had been painted the arms of the McNab, the open boat with its oars on the sea proper, the head of the savage, the two supporting figures, and the Latin motor underneath, Timor Obnis Abseto. Five pipers of the king's court had learned the salute to the chief, and now headed by McNab's own, they paced up and down the long room, making it ring with their warlike music. The king and the chieftain came in together, and as the latter took his place at his host's right hand, his impassive face betrayed no surprise at the splendid preparations which had been made for his reception. Indeed the Highlanders all acted as if they had been accustomed to sit down to such a banquet every night. Many dainties were placed on the ample board, countingly prepared by foreign cooks, the like which the Highlanders had never before tasted. But the mountaineers ate stolidly whatever was set in front of them, and if unusual flavours saluted their palates, the strangers made no sign of approval or the reverse. The red wine of Burgundy grown old in the king's cellars was new to most of them, and they drank it like water, emptying their tankards as fast as the attendant could refill them. Soon the ruddy fluid whose potency had been underestimated began to have its effect, and the dinner table became noisy as the meal progressed. Songs bursting forth now and then with strange shouts and cries more familiar to the hills of Lochtai than to the rafters of Sterling. The chief himself lost the solemn dignity which had at first characterised him, and as he emptied flag on after flag on, he boasted loudly of the prowess of his clan, foretold what he would do in future fields now that he was allied with the king of Scotland. Often forgetting himself, he fell into the Gaelic, roaring forth a torrent of words that had no meaning for many their present. Then remembering the king did not understand the language, he expressed his pity for a man in such condition, saying the Gaelic was the oldest tongue in existence, and the first spoken by human lips upon this earth. It was much more expressive, he said, than the dialect of the Lowlands, and the only language that could fittingly describe war and battle, just as the piproch was the only music suitable to strive, to all of which the smiling king nodded approval. At last McNab sprang to his feet, holding aloft his priming flag on, which literally rained burgundy down upon him, he called for cheers for the king of Scotland, a worthy prince who knew well how to entertain a brother prince. Repeating this in Gaelic, his men who had also risen with their chief now sprang upon the benches, where, standing unsteadily, they raised a series of gels so wild that a shudder of fear passed through many of the courters their present. The chief calling to his piper commanded him instantly to compose a piproch for the king, and that ready musician, swelling with pride, marched up and down and round and round the great hall pouring forth a triumphal quick-step, with many wonderful flourishes and variations. Then, at a word from the chief, each man placed his flag on on the table, whipped out his sword, swang it overhead to the amazement of the courters, for it is not in accord with etiquette to show cold steel to the eyes of the king. Down came the blades instantly, and together each man splitting into the goblet he had drunk from. You must all come to Lochte, cried the chief, and I will show you a banqueting hall in honour of James V, such as you have never before seen. Then, to the horror of the courters, he suddenly smote the king on the back with his open palm and cried, Jamie, my lad, you all come and visit me at Lochte. The smitten king laughed heartily and replied, Yes, Finlay, I will. The next day the McNabs marched from the castle and down through the town of Sterling with much pomp and circumstance. They were escorted by the king's own guard, and this time the populace made no sneering remarks, but thronged the windows and the roofs, cheering heartily, while the highlanders kept proud steps to the shrill music of the pipes. And thus the clansmen set faces towards the north on their long tramp home. What proud devils they are, said Sir David Lindsay to the king after the northern company had departed. I have been through the McNab country from one end of it to the other, and there is not a decent hut on the hillside, let alone a castle fit to entertain a king. Yet the chief gives an imitation in the heat of wine, and when he is sobered, he is too proud to admit that he cannot make good the words he has uttered. That very thing is troubling me, replied the king, but it's a long time till July, and between now and then we will make him some excuse for not returning his visit, and thus avoid putting the old man to shame. But that too will offend him beyond repair, objected the poet. Well, we must just lay our heads together, David, answered the king, and think of some way that will neither be an insult nor a humiliation. It might not be a bad plan for me to put on disguise and visit Finlay alone. Would you trust yourself unaccompanied among those wild caterants? One doesn't know what they might do. I wish I were as safe in Sterling as I should be among the McNabs, replied the king. However affairs of state did not permit the carrying out the king's intention. Embassies came from various countries, and the king must entertain the foreigners in a manner becoming their importance. This, however, game games the valid excuse he required, and so he sent a commission to the chief of the McNabs. His majesty, said the head commissioner, is entertaining the ambassadors from Spain and from France and likewise a legate from the Pope. If he came from north, he must at least bring with him these great noblemen with the retinues, and while he would have been glad to visit you with some of his own men, he could not impose upon the hospitality thus generously tendered by bringing also a large number of strangers and foreigners. Tell his majesty, replied McNab with dignity, that whether he bring with him the king of Spain, the emperor of France, or even the pope himself, none of these princesses in the estimation of a McNab superior to James the Fifth of Scotland. The entertainment therefore which the king graciously condescends to accept is certainly good enough for any foreigners that may accompany him, be their nobility ever so high. When this reply was reported to the king, he first smiled and then sighed. I can do nothing further, he said. Return to McNab and tell him that the pope's legate desires to visit the priory on Lochte. Tell the chief that we will take the boat along the lake on the day arranged. Say that the foreigners are anxious to taste the venison of the hills, and that nothing could be better than to give us a dinner under the trees. Tell him that he need not be at any trouble to provide us lodging, for we shall return to the island priory and their sleep. In the early morning the king and his followers, the ambassadors, and their train embarked on boats that had been brought over land for their accommodation, and sailed from the island priory the length of the beautiful lake, the numerous craft being driven through the water by strong northern oarsmen. Their wild shunting choruses echoing back from the picturesque mountains as they bent to their work. The evening before horses for the party had been led through forests over the hills and along the strand to the meeting place at the other end of the lake. Here they were greeted by the McNabs, pipers and all, and mounting the horses the gay cavalcade was led up the valley. The king had warned the foreign highnessness that they were not to expect in this wilderness the niceties of Rome, Paris or Madrid, and each of the ambassadors expressed his delight at the prospect of an outing certain to contain so much that was novel and unusual to them. A summer haze hung in the valley, and when the king came in sight of the stronghold of the McNabs, he rubbed his eyes in wonder, thinking the misty uncertainty of the atmosphere was playing with a trick with his vision. There before them stood the most bulky edifice, the most extraordinary pile he had ever beheld. Tremendous in extent it seemed to have embodied every marked feature of a medieval castle. At one end a great square keep arose. Its amazing height looming gigantically in the gauss-like magic of the mist. A high wall massaculated at the top connected this keep with a small octagonal tower, whose twin was placed some distance to the left, leaving an opening between for a wide entrance. The two octagonal towers formed a sort of frame for a roaring waterfall in the background. From the second octagonal tower another extended lofty wall connected it with a round peel as high as the keep. This castle of a size so enormous that it made all others its beholders had ever seen shrink into comparative insignificance was surrounded by a bailey wall outside of that was a moat which proved to be a foaming river fed by the volume of water which came down to the precipice behind the castle. The lashing current and the snow-white cascade formed a striking contrast to the deep moss-green hue of the castle itself. We have many a great strongholds in Italy, said the Pope's legate, but never have I seen anything to compare with this. Oh! said McNab slightly, we are but a small clan. You should see the Highland castle's further north. They are of stone, indeed our own fortresses, which are further inland, are also of stone. This is merely our pleasure house built of pine trees. A castle of logs, exclaimed the Pope's legate, I never before heard of such a thing. They crossed the bridge past between the two octagonal towers and entered the extensive courtyard, surrounded by the castle itself. A courtyard broad enough to afford maneuvering ground for an army. The interior walls were as attractive as the outside was grim and forbidding. Balconies ran around three sides of the enclosure, tall, thin, straight pine poles, rising three stories high, supporting them, each pole fluttering a flag at the top. The balconies were all festooned with branches of living green. The air was tremulous with the thunder of the cataract, and the courtyard was cut in two by a rushing torrent, spanned by rustic bridges. The walls were peopled by cheering clansmen, and nearly a score of pipers did much to increase the din. Inside the king and his men found ample accommodation. Their rooms were carpeted with moss and with flowers, forming a variety of color and gilling a softness to the foot which the artificial piles of eastern looms would have attempted to rival in vain. Here for three days the royal party was entertained. Hunting in the forest gave them prodigious appetites, and there was no criticism of the cooking. The supply of food and drink was lavish in the extreme, fish from the river and the loch, game from the moors and venison from the hills. It was evening of the third day when the cavalcade set out again for the priory. The chief, Finlay McNabb, accompanied his guests down the valley, and when some distance from the castle of Logs, James smote him on the shoulder, copying thus his own astonishing action. Sir Finlay, he cried, a king's hand should be no less potent than a king's sword, and thus I create thee a night of my realm, for never before has a monarch been so royally entertained, and now I pause here to look once more on your castle of Pine. So they all stayed progress and turned their eyes toward the wooden palace they had left. If it were built of stone, said the pope's legate, it would be the strongest house in the world as it is the largest. A bulwark of bones is better than a castle of stones, said Sir Finlay, that is an old highland saying with us, which means that a brave following is the best word. I will show you my bulwark of bones. And with that, bowing to the king, as if to ask permission, he raised his bugle to his lips and blew a blast. Instantly from the corner of the further bastion a torch flamed forth, and that torch lighted the one next it, and this its neighbor, so that speedily a line of fire ran along the outlines of the castle, marking out the square towers and the round, lining the curtain, the smaller towers, turrets, and parapets. Then at the top of the Bailey wall a circle of highlanders lit torch of the torch, and thus was the whole castle illumined by a circle of fire. The huge edifice was etched in flame against the somber background of the high mountain. Confess legate, cried the king, that you never saw anything more beautiful even in fair Italy. I am willing to admit as much, replied the Roman. Another blast from the bugle and all the torches on the castle itself disappeared, although the fire on the Bailey wall remained intact, and the reason for this soon became apparent. From matriculated tower, keep, peel, and curtain the nimble highlanders torchless scrambled down, cheering as they came. It seemed incredible that they could have attained such speed, peaking their precarious way by grasping protruding branch or stump or limb, or by thrusting hand between the interstices of the timber without slipping, falling, and breaking their necks. For a moment the castle walls were alive with fluttering tartans, strongly illuminated by the torches from the outer Bailey. Each man held his breath while this perilous acrobatic performance was being accomplished, and silence reigned over the royal party until suddenly broken by the Italian. Highlender, he cried, your castle is on fire. I said the Highlender calmly, raising his bugle again to his lips. At the next blast those on the Bailey wall thrust their torches, still burning among the chinks of the logs, and swarmed to the ground as speedily and as safely as those on the main building had done. Now the lighted torches that had been thrown on the roof of the castle, disappearing a moment from sight, gave evidence of their existence. Here and there a long tongue of flame sprung up and died down again. Can nothing be done to save the palace? shouted the excitable Frenchman. The waterfall, the waterfall, let us go back, or the castle will be destroyed. Then where you are, said the chief, and you will see a sight worth coming north for. Now almost with the suddenness of an explosion, great sheets of flame rose, towering into a mountain of fire, as if this roaring furnace would emulate in height the wooded hills behind it. The logs themselves seemed to redden as the light glowed through every crevice between them. The bastions, the Bailey walls, were great wheels of flame, encircling a palace that had all the vivid radiance of molten gold. The valley, for miles up and down, was lighter than the sun ever made it. A chief tain, said the legate in an aid whisper, is this conflagration accident or design? It is our custom, replied McNabb, a monarch's pathway must be lighted, and it is not fitting that a residence once honoured by our king should ever again be occupied by anyone less noble. The pine tree is the badge of my clan, at my behest the pine tree sheltered the king, and now, at the blast of my bugle, it sends forth to the glen its farewell of flame. End of chapter 7, Part 2, read by Los Rolander. Chapter 8 Part 1 of A Prince of Good Fellows This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Los Rolander. A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr. Chapter 8, Part 1, The King Explores James was pleased with himself. He had finished a poem, admitted by all the court to excel anything that Sir David Lindsay ever wrote. And he had out-distance James MacDonald, son of the Laird of Sleet, in a contest for the preference of the fairest lady in Stirling. And young MacDonald was certainly the handsomest sprig about the palace. So the double victory in the art of rhythm and of love naturally induced the king to hold a great conceit of himself. Poor David, who was as modest a man regarding his own merits as could be found in the realm, quite readily and honestly hailed the king his superior in the construction of Jingling Brine. But the strapping young Highlander was proud as any schion of the royal house, and he took his defeat less diffidently. If the king, he said boldly, was playing James Stewart, as I am James MacDonald, we would soon see who was winner of the bonnest lass. And if he objected to fair play, I'd not scruple to meet him sword in hand on the heather of the hills, but not on the stones of Stirling. It is the crown that has won and not the face underneath it. Now this was ranked treason, for you must never talk of swords in relation to a king except that they be drawn in his defense. The inexperienced young man made a very poor courtier, for he spoke as his mind prompted him, a reckless habit that has brought many a head to the block. Although MacDonald had a number of friends who admired the Frank, if somewhat hot-headed nature of the youth, his highland swagger often earned him for him not a few enemies, who would have been glad of his downfall. Besides this, there are always about a court plenty of sycophanths, eager to curry favor with the ruling power, and so it was not long after these injudicious utterances had been given forth that they were brought with many exaggerations to the heirs of the king. You think then, said his majesty to one of the tail-bearers, that if Jaime had the chance he would run his iron through my royal person? There is little doubt of it, your majesty, replied the parasite. Ah well, commented James, kings must take their luck like other folk, and some day Jaime and I may meet on the heather with no other witnesses than the mountains around us, and the blue sky above us, and in that case I shall have to do the best I can. I make no doubt that MacDonald's position in sterling is less pleasant than my own. He is practically a prisoner held hostage here for the good conduct of his father, the firebrand of sleet, so we must not take too seriously the vaporing of a youth whose leg is tied. I was once a captive myself to the doglass, and I used words that would scarcely have been pleasant for my jailor to hear, had some kind friend carried them, so I have ever a soft side for the man in thrall. To the amazement of the courtiers who had shown some inclination to avoid the company of MacDonald after he had unburdened his soul, the king continued to treat the Highlander as affably as ever. But many thought his majesty was merely biding his time, which was indeed the case. The wiser heads about the court strongly proved of this diplomacy, as before they had looked to askings at the king's rivalry with the irasqual youth. They knew that affairs were not going well in the north, and so loose were the bonds restraining MacDonald, that at any moment he might very readily have escaped, ridden to the hills, and there augmented the almost constant warfare in those mountainous regions. Every clan that could be kept quiet was so much to the good, for although they fought mostly among themselves, there was ever a danger or combination which might threaten the throne of Scotland. Very often the king recklessly offended those whom he should conciliate, but even the wise-acres were compelled to admit that his jaunty kindness frequently smoothed out what looked like a dangerous quarrel. The sage-counselors, however, thought the king should keep a closer watch on those Highland chief-tains who were practically hostages in his court, but to this advice James would never listen. Having been a captive himself not so very long before, as he frequently remarked, he thus felt an intense sympathy for those in like condition, even though he himself kept them so through the necessity of internal politics. Yet he always endeavored to make the restraint sit as lightly as possible on his victims. Some weeks after the ill-considered anti-royal threats had been made, their promulgator was one of a group in the courtyard of the castle, when the captain of the guard came forward and said the king wished to see him in his private chamber. MacDonald may have been taken aback by the unexpected summons, but he carried the matter off nonchalantly enough. With the air of one who fears neither potentate nor peasant, and so accompanied the captain. But the gossips nodded their heads sagely at one another, whispering that it would be well to take good view of MacDonald's back, as they were little likely to see him soon again. And this whisper proved true. For next day MacDonald had completely disappeared. No one knew wither. When James the large son entered the presence of James the king, the latter said as soon as the captain had left them alone together. Jamie, my man, you understand the Gaelic, so it is possible you understand those who speak it. If your majesty means the Highlanders, they are easily enough understood. They are plain simple, honest bodies who speak what's on their minds, and who are always willing in an argument to exchange the wag of the tongue for a swoop of the black knife. I admit, said the king with a smile, that they are Gaelic's pastoral people, easy to get on with, if you comprehend them. But that is where I'm at loss, and I thought your head might supplement my own. I am delighted to hear you want my head for no other purpose but that of giving advice, returned the Highlander candidly. Truth to tell, Jamie, your head would be of a little use to me were it not on your shoulders. If the head were that of a winsome lassie, I might be tempted to take it on my own shoulder. But otherwise I'm well content to let heads remain where Providence places them. Whether intentional or not, the king had touched a sore spot when he referred to the laying of a winsome lassie's head on his shoulder, and MacDonald drew himself up rather stiffly. In any ploy with the ladies, he said, your majesty has the weight of an ermine cloak in your favor, and we all know how the lass is like millenary. Then Jamie, in a fair field you think you would have the advantage of me, as for example if our carpet were the heather instead of the weaving of an eastern loom. I just think that, said MacDonald stoutly. The king threw back his head and laughed the generous laugh of the all-conquering man. Eh, good Jamie, my man! We may put that to the test before long, but it is in the higher realms of statesmanship I want your advice, and not in the frivolous courts of love. You may give that advice the more freely when I tell you that I've made up my mind what to do in any case, and am not likely to be swayed one way or other by the counsel I shall receive. Then why does your majesty wish to have my opinion? Ask the Highlander. Lord, I'll want more than your opinion before this is done with, but I may tell you at once that there's troublesome news from sky. Are the MacLoads up again? Aye, they are up and down. They are up in their anger and down on their neighbours. I cannot fathom the intricacies of their disputes, but it may interest you to know that some of your clan are engaged in it. I suspect that Alexander MacLeod of Dunwiggan is behind all this, although he may not be an active participant. Ah, that is Alastair Crotach, said the young man knitting his brows. Alastair, yes, but what does Crotach mean, asked the king. It means the humpback. Yes, that's the man, and a crafty plausible old gentleman he is. He got a charter under the great seal of all his lands from my father, dated 15 June 1468. This did not satisfy him, and when I came to the throne he asked for a similar charter from me, which I signed on the thirteenth of February last. Its conditions seemed to be most advantageous to him, for all that was required of him was that he should keep for my use a galley of twenty-six oars, and likewise keep the peace. I am not aware whether the galley has been built or not, but there is certainly very little peace where a MacLeod has a claymore in his hand. Now, Jamie, the MacLeods are your neighbors in sleep, so tell me what you would do were the king's crown on your head. I should withdraw their charter, said MacDonald. That seems but just, concurred the king. Still I doubt if our friend the humpback places very much value on the writing of his august sovereign. He knows he holds his lands as he holds his sword, his grip on the one relaxing when he loses his grip on the other. You will suppose, however, the charter withdrawn and the MacLeod laughing defiance at us. What next, MacDonald? Next I would raise an army and march against him, and make him laugh on the other side of his crooked mouth. Hmm, said the king. That means traversing the country of the Greyhams, who would probably let us by. Then we next meet the stewards, and for my name's sake perhaps they might not molest us. We march out of their country into the land of the McNabs, and the chief is an old friend of mine, so we need fear no disturbance there. After that we must trust ourselves to the tender mercies of the Campos, and the outcome would depend on what they could make by attacking us or by leaving us alone. Next the clan Cameron confronts us, and are more likely than not to dispute our passage. After them, the MacDonalds, and there, of course, you stand, my friend. When at last we reached the sound of sleep, how many of us would be left, and how are we to get across to sky with the MacLeods on the mainland to the north of us? I am thinking, Jamie, there are lions in that path. The lions are imaginary, Your Majesty. The Greyhams, the Stewards, the McNabs would race not against you, but for you, delighted to be led by their king. The Campos themselves must join you if your force were large enough to do without them. Among the MacDonalds alone I could guarantee you an army. You forget that the Highland man is always anxious for warfare. Leave Sterling with a thousand men, and you will have ten thousand before you are at the shores of Sleet. The king meditated for a few moments, then he looked up at his comrade with that engaging smile of his. It may all be as you say, Jamie, perhaps the Highlands would rise with me instead of against me, but a prudent commander must not ignore the possibility of the reverse. However, apart from all this, I am desirous of quelling the military ardor of the Highlands, not of augmenting it. It's easy enough setting the heather on fire in dry weather, but he is a wise prophet who tells where the conflagration ends. I would rather carry a bucket of water than a sword, even though it may be heavier. If your majesty will tell me what you have resolved upon, then I shall very brightly give you my opinion on it. It is always easier to criticise the plans of another than to put forward sensible plans of one's own. You are right in that, Jamie, and the remark shows I have chosen a wise consular. Very well, then. They have never seen the renowned island of Skye. They tell me it is even more picturesque than sterling itself. I propose then to don a disguise, visit Skye, and find out, if I can, what the turbulent islanders want. If I am not able to grant their desire, I can at least deal the better with them for being acquainted. Your majesty does not propose going alone? cried MacDonald in amazement. Certainly not. I shall be well guarded. Ah, that is a different matter, and exactly what I advised. You advised an army which I shall not take with me. I shall be well guarded by my good right arm, and by the still more potent right arm, if I may believe his own statement, my friend Jamie MacDonald of Sleet. With Ben Brouse MacDonald pondered for a few moments, then looking upset. Will your majesty trust yourself in the wilderness with a prisoner? There is no question of any prisoner. If you refer to yourself, you have always been at liberty to come and go as pleased you. As for trusting, I trust myself to a good comrade and a highland gentleman. The king rose as he spoke and extended his hand, which the other grasped with great cordiality. You will get yourself out of sterling tonight, continue the king, as quietly as possible, and hide you to my castle of Dune, and there wait until I come, which may be in a day or maybe in a week. I will tell the court that you have gone to your own home, which will be true enough. That will keep the gossips from saying we have each made away with you other, if we both live together. You see, Jamie, I must have someone with me who speaks the Gaelic. My advice has been slighted so far, said MacDonald, yet I must give you another piece of it. We are going into kitlish country. I advise you to order your fleet into some safe cove on the west coast. It will do the West Highlanders good to see what ships you have, for they think that no one but themselves and Noah could build a boat. When we come up into my own country, we will get a ghillie or two that can be depended on to wait on us. Then, if we are nipped, one or other of these ghillies can easily steal a boat and make for the fleet with your orders to the admiral. That is not a bad plan, Jamie, said the king, and we will arrange it as you suggest. The court wondered greatly at the sudden disappearance of James MacDonald, but none dared to make inquiry, some thinking he had escaped to the north. Others, that a dungeon in Sterling Castle, might reveal his whereabouts. The king was as genial as ever, and the wise-acre surmised from his manner that he meditated going off on tramp again. The fleet was ordered to Loch Torridon, where it could keep a watchful eye on turbulent sky. The king spent three days in setting those affairs of the realm, which demanded immediate attention. Lift Sir Donald Sinclair in temporary command, and rode off to Doon Castle. From this stronghold there issued next morning before daylight two well-mounted young men, who struck in a north-westerly direction for the wild highland country. Their adventures were many and various, but MacDonald's gaelic and knowledge of the locality carried them scathless to the coast, although much of the journey was done on foot, for before half the way was accomplished, the insurmountable difficulty of the passives compelled them to relinquish their horses. As it was unadvisable for them to enter sky in anything like state, the two travelers contented themselves with an ordinary fishing boat, which spread sail when the winds were fair, and depended on the oars of the crew when the sea was calm. They were accompanied by two gilis who were intended to be useful on any ordinary occasion, and necessary in case of emergency, for the boat and its crew were to wait in any harbor of sky that was determined upon, and carrying news to Loch Torridon if the presence of the fleet was demanded necessary. End of Chapter 8, Part 1, Read by Los Rolander Chapter 8, Part 2 of A Prince of Good Fellows This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Los Rolander A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barre, Chapter 8, Part 2 It was a beautiful evening with the sea a smoothest glass when the fishing boat, with sails folded propelled by the stalwart arms of the rowers, entered a landlocked harbor guarded by bowled headlands. The name given to the place by MacDonald was so unpronounceable in Gaelic that it completely baffled the Saxon tongue of the king. But although his majesty was not aware of the fact, his own presence was to remedy that difficulty, because the place was ever afterwards known as the Haven of the King, Portre. The scattered village climbed up the steep aclivity, and as the royal party rounded the headland and came in sight of the place, it seemed as if the inhabitants knew a distinguished visitor was about to honour them with his presence, for the whole population cheering and gesticulating was gathered along the shore. The ghillie, however, informed his master that the demonstration was probably on the occasion of the launch of the Handsome Ship, which they now saw covered with flags, riding placently on the surface of the bay. She was evidently new, for her sights were fresh from the axe, without stain of either weather or wave. It seems the boat is yours, said MacDonald to the king in English. It is the 26-ort ghillie that Alastair Crotach was bound by his agreement to build for you. My man tells me that it is to be taken tomorrow to Danvigan Castle, so it is likely to be used by Alastair Crotach himself before your majesty sets foot in it. For if it had been intended only for the king it would have been left here, so that it might be convenient to the mainland. It has been built by Malcolm MacLeod, the leader of all the people in these parts. He thinks himself the most famous boat builder in the world, so Alastair has at least fulfilled one part of his agreement, and doubtless believes this to be the finest craft afloat. It is indeed a beautiful barge, assented the king, admiring the graceful lines of the ship. But what is that long-haired bare-legged catarans screaming about with his arms going like a windmill? The crowd evidently appreciates his efforts, for they are rapturous in their applause. MacDonald held up his hand, and the oarsmen paused, while the boat gently glided towards the shore. In the still air across the water, the impassioned Gaelic words came clearly to the voyagers. He is saying, translated MacDonald, after a few moments listening, that the MacLeods are like the eternal rocks of sky, and their enemies like the waves of the sea. Their enemies dash against them, and they remain unmoved, while the wave is shattered into infinitesimal spray. So do the MacLeods defy and scorn all who come against them. The king shrugged his shoulders. The man forgets that the sea also is eternal, and that it ultimately wears away the cliff. This appears to be an incitement towards war, then? Oh, not so, replied MacDonald. The man is one of their poets, and he is reciting an epic he has written, doubtless in praise of Malcolm's boat-building. God save us, cried the king. Have we then poets in sky? The whole of the highlands is a land of poetry, Your Majesty, affirmed MacDonald, drawing himself up proudly. Although the very poor judges of the art in sterling may not be aware of the fact, the king laughed heartily at this. I must tell that to Dave Lindsay, he said. But here we have another follower of the muse who has taken the place of the first. Surely nowhere else is the goddess served by voters so unkempt. What is this one saying? He says that beautiful is the western sky when the sun sinks beneath the wave, but more beautiful still is the cheek of the rose of sky, the daughter of their chieftain. Ah, that is better and more reassuring. I think either of us, Jamie, would rather be within sight of the smiles of the rose of sky than within reach of the claymores of our kinsmen. By this time the assemblage on shore became aware that visitors were approaching and the declamation ceased. Malcolm MacLeod himself came forward on the landing to greet the newcomers. He was a huge man of about fifty, tall and well proportioned, with an honest but masterful face, all in all a magnificent specimen of the race, destined by nature to be a leader of men. He received his visitors with dignified courtesy. I am James MacDonald, explained that young man by way of introduction, son of the lord of sleet. We heard you had built a boat for the king, and so have come to see it. This is James Stewer, the friend of mine from the Lowlands, and I have brought him with me that he may learn what boat building really is. You are very welcome, said MacLeod, and just in time, for they are taking her round the headland to Dunvegan tomorrow morning. I, she is a bonny boat, if I do say it myself, for no one knows her and what she'll do better than I. The king should be proud of her, said MacDonald. MacLeod tossed his shaggy head and replied with a snare. It's little the king knows about boats. He should be playing with a shallow in a tub of water, instead of meddling with men's affairs. Alistair Crotach is our king, and if he graciously pleases to tickle the lad in sterling by saying he owns the boat, Alistair himself will have the using of her. I would not spike a plank for the king, but I'd build a fleet for Alistair if he wanted it. Has your friend the Gaelic? If he has, he may tell the king what I say when he goes back to the lowlands. No, he has no Gaelic, Malcolm, but I'll put it into the English, whatever you like to say. And so he gave to the king a free rendition of MacLeod's remarks, toning them down a little. But James was shrewd enough to suspect from the manner of the man of sky that he held his normal monarch in slight esteem. Malcolm MacLeod took the strangers to his own house, which was the best in the village. Almost the entire population of the port had been working on the king's boat. And now that it was finished and launched, the place had earned a holiday. Malcolm was delighted to have visitors who could bear witness to the skill of his designing, appreciate the genius of the poets, and listen to the scrape of the piping. The strangers were most hospitably entertained and entered thoroughly into the spirit of the festivities. The morning after their arrival, they cheered as lustily as the others when the twenty-six oars of the king's barge struck the water and the craft moved majestically out of the harbor. They seemed to have come into a land of goodwill toward all mankind, and lo, vying with each other to make their stay as pleasant as possible. Losh Diememe said the king to his friend two or three days after their arrival, I might well have ignored your advice about the ships, as I did your base counsel about the army. I need no fleet here to protect me in sky where every man is my friend. That is very true, replied MacDonald. But you must not forget that no one has any suspicion who you are. Everyone is a friend of James Stewart of the Lowlands, but I hear nobody say a good word for the king. What have they against him? Asked the gidman of Balangaysh with a frown, for it was not complementary to hear that in a part of his own dominion he was thought little of. It isn't exactly that they have anything against the king, said MacDonald, perhaps not slow to prick the self-esteem of his comrade. But they consider him merely a boy of small weight in their affairs one way or another. They neither fear him nor respect him. The real monarch of these regions is the humpback in Dunvegan castle, and even if they knew you were the king, your sternest command would have no effect against his slightest wish, unless you had irresistible force at the back of you. Ah, Jamie, you are simply trying to justify the bringing of the fleet round Scotland? Indeed, and I'm not. The only use to which you can put your fleet will be to get you away from here in case of trouble. As far as its force is concerned, these islanders would simply take to the hills and defy it. Ah, well, said the king, I'll make them think better of me before I'm done with them. The week's festivities were to end with a grand poetical contest. All the bards of the island were scribbling at any rate those who could write. The poets who had not that gift were committing their verses to memory that they might be prepared to recite them before the judges. Three famous ministers who were chosen from three districts on the island, thus giving variety and a chance of fairness to their decisions. The king resolved to enter this competition, and he employed MacDonald every evening, translating into the language of sky, the poem which had been considered so good in Stirling, MacDonald was to recite it for him at the contest. But this Homeric competition was endangered by disquieting news brought to the island by the fishermen. They reported that a powerful fleet had been seen rounding the northern coast of Scotland and was now making towards the south. This unexpected intelligence seemed to change instantaneously the attitude of the islanders towards their two guests. Suspicion electrified the air, the news of the sighting of the fleet coming so quickly on the advent of two strangers, who apparently had no particular business on the island, caused them to be looked upon as spies, and for a day or two they were in danger of being treated as such. The king's alertness of mind saved the situation. He had brought with him from Stirling in case of emergencies several sheets of blank parchment, each bearing the great seal of Scotland. Once more the useful MacDonald was his amanuensis. A proclamation in Gaelic was written and the signature of James V inscribed thereon. This document was enclosed with a communication containing directions to the admiral of the fleet, and MacDonald entrusted the packet to one of his Achilles with orders that sale should be set for Loch Torridon and the message given to the officer in command. Three days later the ferment on the island was immeasurably increased when the guard on the headland reported that a ship of war was making direct for the harbor. A horseman was dispatched full gallop to Danevegan castle to inform the head of the clan of the mysterious visit of the two men, followed so soon by the approach of a belligerent vessel. But before the messenger was ten miles on his way the ceremony was over in Danevegan. The big ship sailed majestically through the narrows, cast anchor, and fired a salute. A wellman boat was lowered and rode to the shore. There stepped from the boat an officer in a splendid uniform followed by lieutenant and half a dozen men one of whom carried the flag of Scotland. This company marched to the cross which stood in the center of the village and the crowd sullenly followed with Malcolm McLeod at their head not knowing what the action of the naval officer might portend and in absence of definite orders from their chief hesitating to oppose this inland march. Many of those on the fleet were highlanders and the second in command was one of them. This man mounted the three steps at the foot of the cross and stood with his back against the upright stone. His chief handed him a roll of parchment and a subordinate officer in a loud voice and in excellent gaelic cry. A proclamation from his most excellent majesty yames the fifth of Scotland. God save the king! At this the chief officer raised his sword in salute and his men sent up a chair but the aggregation was not seconded by any of the large concourse there gathered together. Undaunted by this frigid reception the officer unrolled the manuscript and read its contents in a voice that reached to the furthest outskirts of the crowd. I, James of Scotland, lawful king of this realm do proclaim to all loyal subjects that the safety and liberty of my land depends on an unconquerable fleet and that the merit of the fleet consists in stout well-built ships. Therefore the man whom I, the king, delight to honour is he whose skill produces the best sea-going craft. So I hereon inscribe the name of Malcolm MacLeod master shipbuilder, a man who is designed and constructed a boat of which all Scotland has reason to be proud. The king's barge of 26 oars planned by Malcolm MacLeod and built for him by the people of sky will be used as a model for all shipbuilders in the Scottish Navy. The reader now looked up from his parchment and gazed over the assemblage. Is Malcolm MacLeod here? He asked. Let him step forward. The giant somewhat dazed walking like a man in a dream approached the foot of the cross. The officer rolled the proclamation and presented it to the shipbuilder, saying, From the hand of the king to the hand of Malcolm MacLeod Malcolm accepted it muttering half with a smile, half with a frown. Eh, good! The king knows a good boat when he gets it. Then the officer uplifted his sword and cried, God save the king! And now the hills around re-echoed with a cheering. The little company without another word retracted their steps to the small boat and made for the ship which was now facing outward. Anchor hoisted and sail spread once more, so the watching highlanders had a view of a large vessel superbly managed as the west wind which brought her into the harbor took her safely out again. The royal young man had a striking lesson on the fickleness of the populace. Here to fore, as MacDonald had truly said, no one had a good word to say for the king. Now it was evident that James the Fifth of Scotland was the greatest and wisest monarch that ever sat on a throne. Malcolm MacLeod had been always so proud of his skill that this proclamation could hardly augment his self-esteem, but it suddenly changed his views regarding his august overlord. In conversation ever after it became, I AM THE KING and he was almost willing to admit that James was very nearly as great a man as Alexander MacLeod of Dunvegan. The enthusiast was so great that several bards composed special poems in honour of the King of Scotland and next day the effusions were to be heard at the cross and the prizes awarded. The first thing done, however, after the departure of the ship was to send another mounted messenger to Dunvegan Castle so that the lord of the island might learn that no invasion was to be feared from the fleet. The parchment proclamation was sent on to the chief ostensibly in explanation of the ship's visit, but probably because Malcolm was not lot to let the head of the clan know what the head of the country thought of his workmanship. It was early next morning reading and reciting of the poems began and so lengthy were these effusions that it was well past noon before the last had been heard. To the chagrin of James he found himself fifteenth on the list when the honours were awarded. MacDonald, endeavouring to keep a straight face told the King of the judges decision, adding, It will be as well not to let David Linsay know of this. Oh, you may tell whom you please, cried the King. I was sure you would bungle it in the Gaelic. The King was pacing up and down the room in no very good humour so the young Highlander thought it best not to reply. He was saved, however, from the embarrassment of silence by the entrance of Malcolm MacLeod. You are in great good fortune, said Malcolm. The messengers have returned with a score of horsemen at their backs and MacDonald himself invites you to the castle. MacDonald seemed in a way jubilant over what his host considered the utmost honour that could be bestowed upon two strangers. What does he say? Demanded the King. He says that MacLeod of Dunvegan has invited us to his castle. Well, we will go then. I suppose we can get horses here or shall we journey round by boat? I understand, replied MacDonald, that the chief has sent horses for us and furthermore an escort of a score of men, so I'm thinking we have very little choice about the matter. Very well, returned the King with a shrug of indifference. Let us be often see our new host. I wonder if he will be as easily flattered as the one we are leaving. I doubt it, said MacDonald seriously. Chapter 9 Part 1 of A Prince of Good Fellows This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander. A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr Chapter 9 Part 1 The two young men mounted the small shaggy horses that had been provided for them by the forethought of their future host, MacLeod of Danvegan. Apparently, the King had forgotten all about his crushing defeat in the poetical contest of the day before, for he was plight and gay, the most cheerful of those assembled, adventuring now and then scraps of gaelic that he had picked up, and his pronunciation contributed much to the beauty of the occasion. MacDonald, on the other hand, was gloomy and taciturn, as if already some premonition of the fate that awaited him at Danvegan cast its shadow before. The news of the great condescension of the lad in inviting two strangers to his castle had spread through all the land, and early as was the hour the whole population of the district had gathered to wish the travellers a cordial farewell. The escort as the king called scorer men who were to act as convoy from one port to the other, or the guard as MacDonald termed them, sat on their horses in silence, awaiting the word of command to set forth. At last this word was given, and the procession began its march amidst the chairs of the people and scurreling of the pipes. The distance was little more than seven leagues over a wild, uninviting country. MacDonald sat his horse dejected and silent, for the prospect confronting him was far from alluring. The king was incognito, he was not, and he had begun to doubt the wisdom of having given his actual designation to the people of sky, for the relations between this island and the mainland were at that time far from being of the most cordial description. Danvegan castle was a grim stronghold, in which the Maclauts sat so secure that all the efforts of all the Macdonals, even if they were for once united, could not dislodge them. It was one of the most remote inhabited places in all Scotland, its next neighbor to the west being that new land of America discovered not yet fifty years. For the son of one Highland chief tain to come so completely into the power of another, his own people knowing practically nothing of his whereabouts was a situation that did not commend itself to the young man. Alester Crothach was celebrated more for craft than for violence. He had extended and consolidated his possessions with the skill of a diplomatist rather than by the arms of his soldiers, and MacDonald thought it quite likely that a slice of sleet might be the ransom for his release. If through any unconscious remark of his comrade, the Crothach became aware that he held not only MacDonald of sleet, but also the king of Scotland the fates only knew what might happen. The king, however, appeared to have no forebodings but trotted along with great complacency, commenting now and then on the bareness of the landscape. The party had accomplished little more than half the distance as they fronted a slight elevation that came to them over the hills while part music louder than anything of that kind the king had ever heard. The MacLeod is evidently about to welcome us in state," said his majesty to MacDonald. He must have the very monarch of pipers in his train. The MacRiman, admitted MacDonald, are acknowledged to be the best pipers in the Highlands and they are hereditary musicians to the MacLeod. The sounds we hear indicate that a number of pipers are playing in unison. On reaching the brow of the hill they found this was indeed the case. There were from thirty to fifty pipers but they evidently bore no greeting to the travelers for the musical party was marching in the same direction as themselves playing vigorously as they swung along. At the instance of the king MacDonald made inquirersy recording this extraordinary spectacle. The taciturn commander of the guard answered briefly that it was the college of pipers. The students were marching back to Bockreg on the other side of Loch Follart where instruction in piping was bestowed by the MacRiman. This excursion over the hills giving them training in piping and in piping at the same time. The musical regiment took its way straight across the moors and so very soon was lost sight of by the two travelers who kept to a track which was more or less of a road. In due time the cavalcade reached Dunvegan castle and even a man accustomed to so stout the fortress's stat of sterling could not but be struck by the size the strength and the situation of this frowning stronghold yet extensive as it was its proprietor evidently found it inadequate for his ambitions as he was now building a massive tower which added a further dignity to the structure. The king and his companion were received at the front entrance by an old man whom each at once knew could not be their host for his back had already nearly been straight enough though now slightly stooped through age. He led them within and up a stair direct to the apartments reserved for them. Their age conductor spoke no English so the burden of conversation fell on McDonald as soon as the latter perceived that he and his friend were to be separated the king lodged at one end of the castle and himself at the other he protested against this arrangement demanding two adjoining rooms. The old man replied that he was following instructions given and if the rooms assigned were not satisfactory his master would doubtless change them on the morrow. But my good man expostulated McDonald we expect to be leaving the castle tomorrow. In that case replied their Cicero with a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulders it makes but little difference for one night. The king inquiring into the purport of the discussion quite agreed with the elderly guide that the matter was of small moment. If our genial innkeeper intends to murder us he said we shall be quite as helpless together as separate for he has irresistible force at his command. If we are in a trap there is little use in snarling at the bars. By all accounts Danvegan is a shrewd man and I can see no object which he can attain by doing harm to either of us. If he had a son who was next heir to the position I hold I confess I might sleep uneasily tonight. But as he must know that the king's fleet is hovering about his coast and that his castle would make a most excellent target for it as he cannot transport his house to the hills should the ship sail up the loch. I don't see what he can gain by maltreating two men whom he must suspect of having some connection with the advent of the fleet. Oh, I have not thought replied MacDonald that the eagle of Danvegan would fly so high as you suggest but there are lowly repurchase on which he may like to fix his talons. He has long cast covetious eyes across the sound of sleet to the mainland and whatever he knows or suspects he is sure of one thing which is that he has the son of the earth of sleet safely landed in his own house. How distrustful you Highlanders are of each other tried the young monarch laughing bless me Jamie no bargain made endurance will hold. Then you must remember you have me behind you and I have all the power in Scotland behind me. That is very true but the power of nothing is behind either of us if we cannot get word to the world. Last night on learning we were invited to this place I search for my ghillies but without success. My boat and his crew have been taken elsewhere so you see there is at least a design to cut our communications. I am thinking we will see more luckful art from this window for a while than of the field of banner burn from sterling towers. I quite agree with you Jamie that we are fairly nabbed the old gentleman who has us in thrill can make nothing by illusing us. Sooner or later he must divulge his plan whatever it is before he can benefit from it and when he does that it will be time enough to consider what course we are to pursue. Then turning suddenly towards the guide who had been standing motionless during this conversation the king said sharply in English is your master at home the old man made no reply but looked at McDonald as if for translation. The latter repeated the question in Gaelic and received an affirmative answer. He says the lord is at home he has no English. I wasn't just sure of that so I tested it by an abrupt question thus locking the door after the horse was stolen for we have spoken rather plainly before him and so have proved ourselves in the beginning very poor conspirators. However I care little what the next movie is so long as it brings us something to eat. Clear your gloomy brow Jamie and tell them in the most culinary Gaelic that this is not a fast day with us and the ride across the moors has increased our appetites. McDonald followed his custodian down the long corridor and the king entered the apartment assigned to him. After sufficient time and elapsed to allow the travelers to remove the traces of travel from their persons they were summoned to a small room where they found a most welcome and substantial means set out for them. A generous flag on a wine stood by each trencher. It was the first the king had had an opportunity of tasting since he left his capital and he seized upon the measure with some eagerness. Here's to the McLeod he cried. I drink to the king and good luck to him said McDonald. I drink to anything so long as the wine is sound. Rejoined his majesty enjoying a deep draught. Hey, good Jamie! he cried setting the flag on down again. That's better clurry than we have been sterling. There is no reason why it shouldn't be excellent, replied McDonald for the Larry's own ships bring it direct from the coast of France to the coast of Skye and there's little chance of odd alteration between the two. When the repost was finished the aged man who had received them at the door entered and announced that McLeod of McLeod was ready to greet them in his study. They followed him and were ushered into a noblon room somewhat larger than the one they had left. The king was astonished to find the walls lined with numerous volumes some of the tombs massive in heavy binding. As books were not overplentiful even in the realms of civilization he had not expected to find them in a corner of the world so remote. Alistair the hunchback sat by the side of a huge oaken table and he did not rise from his chair when his visitors were presented to him either because he wished the better to conceal the deformity which gave him his nickname or because he did not consider his guests of such importance as to deserve a more courteous reception. He addressed them in excellent English and the king constituted himself spokesman for the occasion, McDonald standing by taciturn in spite of the excellence of the wine which indeed he had consumed somewhat sparingly. I understand, began McLeod, that you have honoured my poor rugged island of sky with your presence for some days. The honourser has been ours, replied the king with an inclination of his head. I was visiting my friend McDonald in sleet and heard of the king's porch so he came over to see it. This is your friend McDonald of sleet then? May I have the pleasure of presenting Mr. James McDonald to the McLeod? The two Highlanders, one sitting, one standing, bowed somewhat distantly to each other as the king, with the flourish of his hand, made the introduction. Perhaps, continued McLeod suavely, your friend from sleet will do a like obligement for yourself. I shall not put into that trouble, said the king early. I am of such small account that it would be pity to put upon a Highland chief tain the task of pronouncing my name. I am called the Gidman of Balangayish, very much at your service, sir. Gidman, meaning farmer of course, asked Danvegan. Meaning small farmer, said the king with a graceful inclination of the head. The tones of the McLeod had not been too cordial from first, but they became less so at this confession of low quality on the part of his visitor. You will forgive my ignorance, but where is Balangayish? It is a little standing near sterling, but of more value than its size would indicate, for I am fortunate in possessing the custom of the court. You catered for the castle, then, asked McLeod frigidly. Yes, in various ways. McLeod turned from his loquacious guest, as if he decide to hold no further converse with him, and thus, however crafty he might be, he convinced the king that the castle had no suspicion whom it held. McLeod said abruptly to his other visitor fastening his piercing eyes upon him. I heard you were a prisoner at sterling. Prisoner, sir! cried McDonnell angrily, the red color mounting to the roots of his hair, but before he could speak further, his garellius companion struck him. What an absurd rumor! McDonnell, the prisoner! I assure you he was no more a prisoner at sterling castle than he has at this moment in Dunvegan Castle. Ah, said McLeod, turning again to the farmer, his eyes partially closing, examining the other with more severe scrutiny than had previously been the case. He was at liberty to come and go as he pleased then, as free as air, sir, otherwise how could he have visited my slight holding, and thus become acquainted with me? I thought perhaps he had met you in the courtyard of sterling with a sack of corn on your shoulder. The king laughed heartily at this. I said a small farmer certainly, but I'm not quite so unimportant as to imply. I have a better horse to carry my corn than the one that today carried me to Dunvegan. The lad ignored this disparagement of his cattle. You came to sky then to see the king's boat of which you had heard favorable report. The news of her seems to have traveled very quickly. Indeed, and that's true, said the king complacently. Information spreads rapidly in the highlands. It seems to spread to the lowlands as well. You heard the king's proclamation perhaps? Yes, we heard the pronouncement. It's possible you came from the fleet? No, we came over land. Had you heard of the fame of Malcolm's boat before you left sterling? End of chapter nine, part one, read by Lars Rolander. Chapter nine, part two of A Prince of Good Fellows. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Lars Rolander. A Prince of Good Fellows by Robert Barr, chapter nine, part two. I did not say we left sterling. As a matter of fact we left the small village of Dune some miles to the north of it, and at that time had heard nothing either of Malcolm or his boat. Hmm! Ejaculated the lad rummaging among his papers on the table. The king, lancing in the direction of Macleod's hand, saw spread out the charter which he himself had signed, giving Macleod tenure of his land. And beside it, as if this island magnet had been comparing the signatures, was the recent draft of the proclamation commending Malcolm Macleod's boat. This document done began passed to the Gidman of Balangaysh. You know the king's writing perhaps. Will you tell me whether this is, as I suspect, a forgery? James wrinkled his brows and examined the signature with minute care. I have seen the writing of his majesty, he said at last. But Macdonald here knows it better than I. What do you think of it, Jamie? He continued passing on the parchment to his friend. Is this the real Mackay or is it not? It is, said Macdonald shortly and definitely. You say that is the actual signature of the king? Inquired Macleod. I could swear it is as genuineness the one on your charter, replied Macdonald. Well now, said Macleod, leaning back in his chair, will you resolve a mystery for me? How is it likely that James Fifth ever heard of Malcolm Macleod's boat? And if he did, do you consider it probable that an august monarch would compliment a highland Catherine's skill with the axe? James is a doos body, said the king, and knows more of what is going on in Israel than folk who think themselves wiser might imagine. You hint then, said Macleod, drawing down his black brows, that his Majesty may have spice in sky. Truth to tell, lared of Danvegan. It is more than likely, admitted the king with the air of great candor. The frown of Macleod's countenance deepened, and he said harshly, You two gentlemen probably know the fate of Spice when they are captured. Their fate is a short thrift and a long rope, and quite properly so redeemed the king promptly. I am glad that you are so well informed and need no instruction from me," commented the crottach with menace in his tone. Suddenly the king's manner changed, and the air of authority which was natural to him asserted itself. Macleod of sky, he cried, this discussion and beating about the bush is interesting, but nothing at all to the purpose. You are hinting that we two are Spice, and I tell you there are no Spice and can be no Spice on this island. I have only your word to set against my own doubts," said the Macleod. My word and your doubts are both aside from the purpose. Your mind has become confused. Unless you are at war with James of Scotland, there can be Spice neither in the domain you hold under his hand, nor in the kingdom over which he rules. Are you a rebel against your king, Macleod of sky? That I am not," answered Alistair hastily and with evident discomposure. Very well, then, you see the absurdity of an argument on espionage. Macdonald and I have as much right on the island of sky as you have, because it is part of the kingdom of Scotland, and we are loyal if humble subjects of his majesty. You have not come here to then report on the condition of sky? We came here of our own free will, the messengers of no man, and we are to report to no man. If the king should ask me any question regarding my visit to sky, I would answer him that I had met with the utmost courtesy except from its chief. And that Macleod of Macleod was so ignorant regarding the usages of good society that he received us sitting down and never asked us to be seated, an error in politeness which I was myself forced to amend. Macdonald, plant yourself on that chair beside you. I will take this one. Macdonald promptly obeyed the command, and the king seated himself throwing one leg over the other and leaning back in comfort. Now my lord of sky, he said, have you any further questions to ask or any additional hints to bestow upon your guests, at present in your sullen presence upon your own invitation? The chieftain regarded the king in silence for a few moments, then said with a change of countenance, by God you may be a small farmer but you are a brave man. You are the first who has questioned the authority of the Macdonald on his own ground. So the case being without precedent one has to be made and that will require some thought. We will postpone the question until later. I trust you will both honor me with your presence at dinner this evening. But if you prefer it, you may sup alone in your own apartments. We are sociable travelers said the king rising for the lads words had in them an inflection of dismissal and we will have great pleasure in accepting seats at your table. Then with a bow to the man who still remained in his chair the king and his comrade withdrew. They consulted together for a time in the room of the former but reached no definite decision. Macdonald urged that they should come to an understanding with their host at once and learn for free men. But the king held that Alistair should have the time for thinking over the situation which had been practically agreed on. There is no hurry, he said. Each of us is younger than Alistair and so there is time to bide. On being summoned to the great dining hall that night they found a company awaiting dinner, numbering perhaps a score all men. A piper was marching up down the room making the timbers ring with his martial music. The Macdonald stood at the head of his table a stalwart man whose massive head seemed sunk rather deep between his broad shoulders but otherwise perhaps because his costume was cunningly arranged there was slight indication of the deformity with which he was afflicted. He greeted his guests with no great show of affability and indicated the bench at his right hand as the seat of Macdonald. The young highlander hesitated to take the place of preference and glanced uneasily at his comrade. I am slightly deaf in my right ear said the king good-naturedly and as I should be grieved to miss any observations you may make I will with your permission occupy the place you would bestow upon my friend. Macloud looked sternly at the speaker for a moment but seeing that Macdonald without protest moved speedily round to the left he said at last Settle it as pleases you but I should have thought a highland chief taint to precedence over a lowland huckster. Not a huckster exactly explained the king with a smine My patrimony of Balangaysh may be small but such as it is I am the undisputed lard of it while at best Macdonald is but the son of a lard so because of my deaf ear and according to your own rules of precedence I think I may claim the place of honor at your right and as the Macloud with an angry growl sat down the king and Macdonald followed his example the others took their places in some haste and with more or less of disorder it was plain that Macloud preferred the silent highlander to the more loquacious farmer of Balangaysh for during the meal he addressed most of his remarks to the man on his left although his advances were not as cordially received as perhaps they might have been the king showed no resentment at this neglect but concentrated his attention on the business at hand when the eating was done with the servants placed three large flagons before their master and the two who sat on either side of him these they filled to the brim with wine gentlemen said Macloud it is a custom in this castle that our guests to show they are good men and true each empty one of these flagons at a draught and without drawing breath will you then accompany me to any toast you may care to name the wine I have already consumed at your hospitable board said the king is the best that ever ran down a thirsty man's throat but if I supplement it with so generous and instant an addition I fear my legs will refuse their service even if my head retains sense enough to give the command that need not trouble you said Macloud for in the last hundred years no man has insulted this vintage by leaving the hall on his own feet there stand your legs against the wall the king glancing over his shoulder saw standing against the wall a row of brawned gillies each two of whom supported a stretcher whose use was at once apparent very well cried the king to his host give you a suitable toast Macloud and I will enter with you the rosy realms of the red wine Macloud then stood up I give you he said the king of Scotland may he be blessed with more wisdom than were some of his ancestors this he repeated in Gaelic and the sentiment was received uproariously for the wine was already making itself felt in the great hall if Macloud had any design in offering this toast it did not appear on the surface and if he expected a hesitancy on the part of his guests to do honour to it he was disappointed for each young man rose with the rest he rose to the king cried the one on his right and may he be by wisdom as I am by wine then racing the flag on to his lips he drained it dry and set it with a crash on the table again Macloud and Macdonald drank more slowly and ultimately achieved the same end then all seated themselves once more and the drinking continued without the useless intervention of further talk one by one the revelers sank under the table unnoticed by their noisy comrades to be quickly pounced upon by the watchful stretcher bearers with a deafness evidently the result of much practice placed the helpless individual and marched off with him this continuous disappearance of the fallen rapidly thin the ranks of the combatants struggling with a giant backers the king had been reluctant to enter this contest fearing the red wine would loosen his tongue but as the evening wore on he found all his resolution concentrated in a determination to walk to his bed Macdonald proved no protection early in the boat his uncustomed head descended gently upon the table and he was promptly carried off to rest at last Macloud and the king sat alone in the hall that looked larger now was so nearly empty and James as a test of what sense remained to him set himself to count the torches burning more and more dimly in the haze of their own smoke Macdonald gave up the attempt when he saw that they had increased by hundreds and thousands and were engaged in a while pyrotechnic dance to the rick of the last march that had been played on the pipes he swayed over towards his host and smote him uncertainly on the shoulder Macdonald he cried I challenge you to stand and I'll wager you I can walk further down the corridor more than any man in the sky with difficulty the king rose to his feet and as he did so the stool on which he sat because of a lurch against it fell clattering to the floor the very benches are drunk Macloud and the table sways like a ship at sea that stool is as insecure as a throne rise up if you can and see if yours is any better but the Macloud sat helpless glaring at him from under his shaggy eyebrows seeing him stationary the king laughed so heartily that he nearly unbalanced himself and was forced to cling for support to the edge of the table then straightening himself to excessive rigidity he muttered good night Macloud sit there and see the rule of your house broken by your if the next word were monarch or king it was never uttered Horace James made his uncertain way towards the door the expert Gillies who knew their business came up behind him swooped the stretcher against his unreliant legs and they failing instantly he fell backward on the stoutly booban web between the two poles there was a guttural laugh from Macloud and the prone man helplessly waving his hands shouted unfair by saint Andrew unfair curse the foe who attacks a man from the rear end of chapter 9 part 2 read by Loche Rolander