“Mother, it is the Earl and young David too.  They are dead, betrayed into the hands of their enemies, cruelly and treacherously slain!”

Then the keening cry smote the air as Barbara MacKim sank on her knees and lifted up her hands to heaven.

“Oh, the bonny laddies—­the twa bonny, bonny laddies!  Mair than my ain bairns I loved them.  When their ain mother wasna able for mortal weakness to rear him, William Douglas drew his life frae me.  What for, Sholto, are ye standin’ there to tell the tale?  What for couldna ye have died wi’ him?  Ae mither’s milk slockened ye baith.  The same arms cradled ye.  I bade ye keep your lord safe wi’ your body and your soul.  And there ye daur to stand, skin-hale and bane unbroken, before your mither.  Get hence—­ye are nae son o’ Barbara MacKim.  Let me never look on your face again, gin ye bringna back the pride o’ the warld, the gladness o’ the auld withered heart o’ her ye ca’ your mither!”

“Mother,” said Sholto, “my lord was not dead when I left him—­he sent me to raise the country to his rescue.”

“And what for then are ye standin’ there clavering, and your lord in danger among his foes?” cried his mother, angrily.

“Dear mother, I have something more to tell ye—­”

“Aye, I ken, ye needna break the news.  It is that Malise, my man, is dead—­that Laurence, wha ran frae the Abbey to gang wi’ him to the wars, is nae mair.  Aweel they are worthily spent, since they died for their chief!  Ye say that ye were sent to raise the clan—­then what seek ye at the Carlinwark?  To Thrieve, man, to Thrieve; as hard as ye can ride!  To Castle Thrieve!”

“Mother,” said Sholto, still more gently, “hearken but a moment.  Thirty thousand men are on their way to Edinburgh.  Three days and nights have I ridden without sleep.  Douglasdale is awake.  The Upper Ward is already at the gates of the city.  To a man, Galloway is on the march.  The border is aflame.  But it is all too late already, I have had news of the end.  Before ever a man could reach within miles, the fatal axe had fallen, and my lords, for whom each one of us would gladly have died with smiles upon our faces, lay headless in the courtyard of Edinburgh Castle.”

“And if the laddies were alive when ye rode awa’, wha brocht the news faster than my Sholto could ride—­tell me that?”

“I came not directly to Galloway, mother.  First I raised the west from Strathaven to Ayr.  Thence I carried the news to Dumfries and along the border side.  But to-day I have seen the Lady Sybilla on her way to take ship for France.  From her I heard the news that all I had done was too late.”

“That foreigneerin’ randy!  Wad ye believe the like o’ her?  Yon woman that they named ‘Queen o’ Beauty’ at the tournay by the Fords o’ Lochar!—­Certes, I wadna believe her on oath, no if she swore on the blessed banes o’ Saint Andro himsel’.  To the castle, man, or I’ll kilt my coats and be there afore you to shame ye!”