The Black Douglas | Page 5

ready me for the
morrow. Do you come to see the sport? So buxom a dame as the
mistress of Carlinwark should not be absent to encourage the lads to do
their best at the sword-play and the rivalry of the butts."
And as the dame came forth courtesying and bowing her delighted
thanks, Earl William, setting a forefinger under her triple chin, stooped
and kissed her in his gayest and most debonair manner.
"Eh, only to think on't," cried the dame, clapping her hands together as
she did at mass, "that I, Barbara MacKim, that am marriet to a donnert
auld carle like Malise there, should hae the privileege o' a salute frae
the bonny mou' o' Yerl William--(Thank ye kindly, my lord!)--and be
inveeted to the weepen-shawing to sit amang the leddies and view the
sport. Malise, my man, caa' ye no that an honour, a privileege? Is that
no owing to me being the sister--on my faither's side--o' Ninian
Halliburton, merchant and indweller in Dumfries?"
"Nay, nay, good dame," laughed the Earl, "'tis all for the sake of your
own very sufficient charms! I trust that your good man here is not
jealous, for beauty, you well do ken, ever sends the wits of a Douglas
woolgathering. Nevertheless, let us have a draught of your
home-brewed ale, for kissing is but dry work, after all, and little do I
think of it save" (he set his cap on his head with a gallant wave of his
hand) "in the case of a lady so fair and tempting as Dame Barbara
MacKim!"
At this the dame cast up her hands and her eyes again. "Eh, what will
Marget Ahanny o' the Shankfit say noo--this frae the Yerl William. Eh,
sirce, this is better than an Abbot's absolution. I declare 'tis mair
sustainin' than a' the consolations o' religion. Malise, do you hear, great
dour cuif that ye are, what says my lord? And you to think so little of

your married wife as ye do! Think shame, you being what ye are, and
me the ain sister to that master o' merchandise and Bailie o' Dumfries,
Maister Ninian Halliburton o' the Vennel!"
And with that she vanished into the black oblong of the door opposite
the smithy.
CHAPTER II
MY FAIR LADY
The strong man of Carlinwark made no long job of the horseshoeing.
For, as he hammered and filed, he marked the eye of the young Earl
restlessly straying this way and that along the green riverside paths, and
his fingers nervously tapping the ashen casing of the smithy
window-sill. Malise MacKim smiled to himself, for he had not served a
Douglas for thirty years without knowing by these signs that there was
the swing of a kirtle in the case somewhere.
Presently the last nail was made firm, and Black Darnaway was led,
passaging and tossing his bridle reins, out upon the green sward. Malise
stood at his head till the Douglas swung himself into the saddle with a
motion light as the first upward flight of a bird.
He put his hand into a pocket in the lining of his "soubreveste" and
took out a golden "Lion" of the King's recent mintage. He spun it in the
air off his thumb and then looked at it somewhat contemptuously as he
caught it.
"I think you and I, Master-Armourer, could send out a better coinage
than that with the old Groat press over there at Thrieve!" he said.
Malise smiled his quiet smile.
"If the Earl of Douglas deigns to make me the master of his mint, I
promise him plenty of good, sound, broad pieces of a noble
design--that is, till Chancellor Crichton hangs me for coining in the
Grassmarket of Edinburgh."

"That would he never, with the Douglas lances to prick you a way out
and the Douglas gold to buy the good-will of traitorous judges!"
Half unconsciously the Earl sighed as he looked at the fair lake
growing rosy in the light of the sunset. His boyish face was overspread
with care, and for the moment seemed all too young to have inherited
so great a burden. But the next moment he was himself again.
"I know, Malise," he said, "that I cannot offer you gold in return for
your admirable handicraft. But 'tis nigh to Keltonhill Fair, do you
divide this gold Lion betwixt those two brave boys of yours. Faith,
right glad was I to be Earl of Douglas and not a son of his master
armourer when I saw you disciplining for their souls' good Messires
Sholto and Laurence there!"
The smith smiled grimly.
"They are good enough lads, Sholto and Laurence both, but they will be
for ever gnarring and grappling at each other like messan dogs round a
kirk door."