In the stairs, and about the door, some ten of Sir Hugh’s men were waiting, all countrymen of my own, and the noise they made and their speech were pleasant to me.  They gave me welcome with shouts and laughter, and clasped my hands:  “for him that called us wine-sacks, you have given him water to his wine, and the frog for his butler,” they said, making a jest of life and death.  But my own heart for the nonce was heavy enough again, I longing to take farewell of Elliot, which might not be, nor might she face that wild company.  Howbeit, thinking it good to have a friend at court, I made occasion to put in the hand of the old serving-woman all of such small coins as I had won in my life servile, deeming myself well quit of such ill-gotten gear.  And thereafter, with great mirth and noise, they set forth to climb the hill towards the castle, where I was led, through many a windy passage, to the chamber of Sir Hugh Kennedy.  There were torches lit, and the knight, a broad-shouldered, fair-haired man, with a stern, flushed face, was turning over and gazing at his new Book of Hours, like a child busy with a fresh toy.  He laid the book down when we entered, and the senior of the two archers who accompanied me told him that I was he who had been summoned.

“Your name?” he asked; and I gave it.

“You are of gentle blood?” And I answering “Yes,” he replied, “Then see that you are ready to shed it for the King.  Your life that was justly forfeit, is now, by his Royal mercy, returned to you, to be spent in his service.  Rutherford and Douglas, go take him to quarters, and see that to-morrow he is clad as beseems a man of my command.  Now good night to you—­but stay!  You, Norman Leslie, you will have quarrels on your hand.  Wait not for them, but go to meet them, if they are with the French men-at-arms, and in quarrel see that you be swift and deadly.  For the townsfolk, no brawling, marauding, or haling about of honest wenches.  Here we are strangers, and my men must be respected.”

He bowed his head:  his words had been curt, no grace or kindness had he shown me of countenance.  I felt in my heart that to him I was but a pawn in the game of battle.  Now I seemed as far off as ever I was from my foolish dream of winning my spurs; nay, perchance never had I sunk lower in my own conceit.  Till this hour I had been, as it were, the hinge on which my share of the world turned, and now I was no more than a wheel in the carriage of a couleuvrine, an unconsidered cog in the machine of war.  I was to be lost in a multitude, every one as good as myself, or better; and when I had thought of taking service, I had not foreseen the manner of it and the nature of the soldier’s trade.  My head, that I had carried high, somewhat drooped, as I saluted, imitating my companions, and we wheeled forth of the room.

“Hugh has taken the pride out of you, lad, or my name is not Randal Rutherford,” said the Border man who had guided me.  “Faith, he has a keen tongue and a short way with him, but there are worse commanders.  And now you must to your quarters, for the hour is late and the guard-room shut.”