arms.
'Only pinched with half an hour's frost; you see it flourishes as green as ever.'
'It is too grave a plant to flourish on so hot a soil as that headpiece of thine, Master Roland Graeme,' retorted the other, who was an old equerry of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
'If it will not flourish alone,' said Roland, 'I will mix it with the laurel and the myrtle?and I will carry them so near the sky, that it shall make amends for their stinted growth.'
Thus speaking, he dashed his spurs into his horse's sides, and, checking him at the same time, compelled him to execute a lofty caracole. Sir Halbert Glendinning looked at the demeanour of his new attendant with that sort of melancholy pleasure with which those who have long followed the pursuits of life, and are sensible of their vanity, regard the gay, young, and buoyant spirits to whom existence, as yet, is only hope and promise.
In the meanwhile, Adam Woodcock, the falconer, stripped of his masquing habit, and attired, according to his rank and calling, in a green jerkin, with a hawking-bag on the one side, and a short hanger on the other, a glove on his left hand which reached half way up his arm, and a bonnet and feather upon his head, came after the party as fast as his active little galloway-nag could trot, and immediately entered into parley with Roland Graeme.
'So, my youngster, you are once more under shadow of the holly-branch?'
'And in case to repay you, my good friend,' answered Roland, 'your ten groats of silver.'
'Which, but an hour since,' said the falconer, 'you had nearly paid me with ten inches of steel. On my faith, it is written in the book of our destiny, that I must brook your dagger after all.'
'Nay, speak not of that, my good friend,' said the youth, 'I would rather have broached my own bosom than yours; but who could have known you in the mumming dress you wore?'
'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?'
'I pray you, my son, to rein your tongue,' answered Adam Woodcock; 'my lord's displeasure, if you provoke it, will be worse to appease than my lady's. The touch of his least finger were heavier than her hardest blow. And, by my faith, he is a man of steel, as true and as pure, but as hard and as pitiless. You remember the Cock of Capperlaw, whom he hanged over his gate for a mere mistake?a poor yoke of oxen taken in Scotland, when he thought he was taking them in English land? I loved the Cock of Capperlaw; the Kerrs had not an honester man in their clan, and they have had men that might have been a pattern to the Border?men that would not have lifted under twenty cows at once, and would have held themselves dishonoured if they had taken a drift of sheep, or the like, but always managed their raids in full credit and honour.?But see, his worship halts, and we are close by the bridge. Ride up?ride up?we must have his last instructions.'
It was as Adam Woodcock said. In the hollow way descending towards the bridge, which was still in the guardianship of Peter Bridgeward, as he was called, though he was now very old, Sir Halbert Glendinning halted his retinue, and beckoned to Woodcock and Graeme to advance to the head of the train.
'Woodcock,' said he, 'thou knowest to whom thou art to conduct this youth. And thou, young man, obey discreetly and with diligence the orders that shall be given thee. Curb thy vain and peevish temper. Be just, true, and faithful; and there is in thee that which may raise thee many a degree above thy present station. Neither shalt thou?always supposing thine efforts to be fair and honest?want the protection and countenance of Avenel.'
Leaving them in front of the bridge, the centre tower of which now began to cast a prolonged shade upon the river, the Knight of Avenel turned to the left, without crossing the river, and pursued his way towards the chain of hills within whose recesses are situated the Lake and Castle of Avenel. There remained behind, the falconer, Roland Graeme, and a domestic of the Knight, of inferior rank, who was left with them to look after their horses while on the road, to carry their baggage, and to attend to their convenience.
So soon as the more numerous body of riders had turned off to pursue their journey westward, those whose route lay across the river, and was directed towards the north, summoned the Bridgeward, and demanded a free passage.
'I will not lower the bridge,' answered Peter, in a voice querulous with age and ill-humour.?'Come Papist, come Protestant, ye are all the same. The Papist threatened us with Purgatory, and fleeched us with pardons?the Protestant mints at us with his sword, and cuttles us with the liberty of conscience; but never a one of either says, 'Peter, there is your penny.' I am well tired of all this, and for no man shall the bridge fall that pays me not ready money; and I would have you know I care as little for Geneva as for Rome?as little for homilies as for pardons; and the silver pennies are the only passports I will hear of.'
