And at the same moment Kitson stepped towards the King.  ’Sir, you are an honest man, and we crave your pardon if we said aught that seemed in doubt thereof.’

James laughed, shaking each honest hand, and saying, ’At least, good sirs, do not always think Scot and traitor the same word; and thank you for backing me so gallantly.’

‘I’d wish no better than to back such as you, Sir,’ said Kitson heartily; and James then turned to Ralf Percy, and asked him what he thought of the Douglas face to face.

‘A dour old block!’ said Ralf.  ’If those runaways had but stayed within us, the hoary ruffian should have had his lesson from a Percy.’

James smiled, for the grim giant was still a good deal more than a match for the slim, rosy-faced stripling of the house of Percy, who nevertheless simply deemed his nation and family made him invincible by either Scot or Frenchman.

The difficulties of their progress, however, entirely occupied them.  Having diverged from the regular track, they had to make their way through the inundated meadows; sometimes among deep pools, sometimes in quagmires, or ever hedges; while the water that drenched them was fast freezing, and darkness came down on them.  All stumbled or were bogged at different times; and Malcolm, shorter and weaker than the rest, and his lameness becoming more felt than usual, could not help impeding their progress, and at last was so spent that but for the King’s strong arm he would have spent the night in a bog-hole.

At last the lights were near, the outskirts were gained, the pass-word given to the watch, and the rough but welcome greeting was heard—­’That’s well!  More of you come in!  How got you off?’

‘The rogues got back, then?’ said Kitson.

‘Some score of them,’ was the answer; ’but ’tis thought most are drowned or stuck by the French.  The King is in a proper rage, as well he may be; but what else could come of a false Scot in the camp?’

‘Have a care, you foul tongue!’ Percy was the first to cry; and as torches were now brought out and cast their light on the well-known faces, the soldiers stood abashed; but James tarried not for their excuses; his heart was hot at the words which implied that Henry suspected him, and he strode hastily on to the convent, where the quadrangle was full of horses and men, and the windows shone with lights.  At the door of the refectory stood a figure whose armour flashed with light, and his voice sounded through the closed visor—­’I tell you, March, I cannot rest till I knew what his hap has been.  If he have done this thing—­’

‘What then?’ answered James out of the darkness, in a voice deep with wrath; but Henry started.

’You there! you safe!  Speak again!  Come here that I may see.  Where is he?’

‘Here, Sir King,’ said James, gravely.

‘Now the saints be thanked!’ cried Henry, joyously.  ’Where be the caitiffs that brought me their false tale?  They shall hang for it at once.’