Henry’s look of amusement brightened him into his old self, as he said, ‘Honester guards could I scarce have, good friend.’

At that moment, after a nudge or two from Trenton, Kitson and he came suddenly down on their knees, with an impetus that must have tried the boards of the bottom of the barge.  ‘Sir,’ said Kitson, always the spokesman, ‘we have a grace to ask of you.’

‘Say on,’ said Henry.  ’Any boon, save the letting you cut one another’s throats.’

’No, Sir.  Will Trenton’s scarce my match now, more’s the pity; and, moreover, we’ve lost the good will to it we once had.  No, Sir; ’twas license to go a pilgrimage.’

‘On pilgrimage!’

’Ay, Sir; to yon shrine at Breuil—­St. Fiacre’s, as they call him.  Some of our rogues pillaged his shrine, as you know, Sir; and those that know these parts best, say he was a Scottish hermit, and bears malice like a Scot, saint though he be; and that your sickness, my lord, is all along of that.  So we two have vowed to go barefoot there for your healing, my liege, if so be we have your license.’

‘And welcome, with my best thanks, good friends,’ said Henry, exerting himself to lean forward and give his hand to their kiss.  Then, as they fell back into their places, with a few inarticulate blessings and assurances that they only wished they could go to Rome, or to Jerusalem, if it would restore their king, Henry said, smiling, as he looked at James, ’Scotsmen here, there, and everywhere—­in Heaven as well as earth!  What was it last night about a Scot that moved thine ire, Jamie?  Didst not tender me thy sword?  By my faith, thou hast it not!  What was the rub?’

James now told the story in its fulness.  How he had met Sir Patrick Drummond at Glenuskie; how, afterwards, the knight had stood by him in the encounter at Meaux; and how it had been impossible to leave him senseless to the flames; and how he had trusted that a capture made thus, accidentally, of a helpless man, would not fall under Henry’s strict rules against accepting Scottish prisoners.

‘Hm!’ said Henry; ’it must be as you will; only I trust to you not to let him loose on us, either here or on the Border.  Take back your sword, Jamie.  If I spoke over hotly last night—­a man hardly knows what he says when he has a goad in the side—­you forgive it, Jamie.’  And as the Scots king, with the dew in his eyes, wrung his hand, he added anxiously, ’Your sword!  What, not here!  Here’s mine.  Which is it?’ Then, as James handed it to him:  ’Ay, I would fain you wore it!  ’Tis the sword of my knighthood, when poor King Richard dubbed me in Ireland; and many a brave scheme came with it!’

The soft movement of the barge upon the water had a soothing influence; and he was certainly in a less suffering state, though silent and dreamy, as he lay half raised on cushions under an awning, James anxiously watching over him, and Malcolm with a few other attendants near at hand; stout bargemen propelling the craft, and the guard keeping along the bank of the river.