Chapter 36 - Page 2

tidings."

"Sir John Foster," said Morton, "is about to send a party into Scotland
to waste the Halidome."

"How! without waiting my presence and permission?" said Murray--"he is
mad--will he come as an enemy into the Queen's country?"

"He has Elizabeth's express orders," answered Morton, "and they are
not to be trifled with. Indeed, his march has been more than once
projected and laid aside during the time we have been here, and has
caused much alarm at Kennaquhair. Boniface, the old Abbot, has
resigned, and whom think you they have chosen in his place?"

"No one surely," said Murray; "they would presume to hold no election
until the Queen's pleasure and mine were known?"

Morton shrugged his shoulders--"They have chosen the pupil of old
Cardinal Beatoun, that wily determined champion of Rome, the
bosom-friend of our busy Primate of Saint Andrews. Eustace, late the
Sub-Prior of Kennaquhair, is now its Abbot, and, like a second Pope
Julius, is levying men and making musters to fight with Foster if he
comes forward."

"We must prevent that meeting," said Murray, hastily; "whichever
party wins the day, it were a fatal encounter for us--Who commands the
troop of the Abbot?"

"Our faithful old friend, Julian Avenel, nothing less," answered Morton.

"Glendinning," said Murray, "sound trumpets to horse directly, and let
all who love us get on horseback without delay--Yes, my lord, this
were indeed a fatal dilemma. If we take part with our English friends,
the country will cry shame on us--the very old wives will attack us
with their rocks and spindles--the very stones of the street will rise
up against us--we cannot set our face to such a deed of infamy. And my
sister, whose confidence I already have such difficulty in preserving,
will altogether withdraw it from me. Then, were we to oppose the
English Warden, Elizabeth would call it a protecting of her enemies
and what not, and we should lose her."

"The she-dragon," said Morton, "is the best card in our pack; and yet
I would not willingly stand still and see English blades carve Scots
flesh--What say you to loitering by the way, marching far and easy for
fear of spoiling our horses? They might then fight dog fight bull,
fight Abbot fight archer, and no one could blame us for what chanced
when we were not present."

"All would blame us, James Douglas," replied Murray; "we should lose
both sides--we had better advance with the utmost celerity, and do
what we can to keep the peace betwixt them.--I would the nag that
brought Piercie Shafton hither had