CHAPTER VI
THE PRINCE OF ORANGE
In a long, low, narrow room in the palace of the stadtholder in thecity of Amersfort, sat Murdo, Lord of Barra and the Small Isles. Thehead of a great though isolated western clan, he had detached himselffrom the general sentiments of his people with regard to religion andloyalty. First his father and then he himself had taken the Covenantingside in the national struggle--his father through interest andconviction, the son from interest alone. Both, however, had carriedwith them the unquestioning loyalty of their clan, so that it becamean important consideration to any claimant for the throne of Britainwho desired quietness in the north to have on his side the McAlisters,Lords of Barra and the Small Isles.
The Prince of Orange had given to both father and son a welcome anda place of refuge when the storm of persecution shook even the wildHighlands and the government was granting to its more zealous adherentsletters of fire and sword for the extirpation of suspected clans, andespecially for the encouragement of the well-affected by the plunder ofrebels and psalm-singers.
Now, in acknowledgment of this timely succor and safe harborage, Barrahad, ever since his father's death, given his counsel to the prince onmany matters concerning Scotland. Yet, though Murdo McAlister had beenused, he had never been fully trusted by William of Orange, nor yet bythose wise and farseeing men who stood closest about him. Somethingcrafty in Barra's look, something sinister in his eye, kept those whoknew him best from placing complete confidence in him. And there werethose who made no difficulty about declaring that Murdo of Barra had afoot in either camp, and that, were it not for the importance of theinformation sent from Holland to the court of James the Second, myLord of Barra could very well return home, and enjoy his long barrenmoorlands and wave-fretted heritages in unvexed peace.
It was yet early morning when Wat and John Scarlett stood before myLord of Barra in the palace room which he occupied as provost-marshalof the city and camp. They saluted him civilly, while his cold,viperish eye took in the details of their attire with a certain chilland insolent regard, which made Wat quiver from head to foot withdesire to kill him.
To judge by the provost-marshal's reception, he might never have seeneither of them before. Yet Lochinvar was as certain as that he livedthat it was his laugh which had jarred upon him in the passage behindHaxo in the inn of Brederode, and which had been the means of bringingthe combat to a close. Yet he, too, must have ridden fast and far sincethe fight at the inn, if Wat's vivid impression had any basis in fact.
"Your business with me?" inquired Barra, haughtily, looking straightpast them into the blank wall behind.
"You know my business," said Walter, abruptly. "I carried out yourorders in collecting information with regard to the number of thetroops, the position of the regiments, and the defences of the camp andcity. This report I was ordered to deliver to an officer of the princeprivately--in order, as I was informed, not to offend those dignitariesof the city and others who hated the war and wished ill-success tothe prince's campaigns. I set out, therefore, last evening with threeof your retainers, supplied for the purpose by you, to the inn ofBrederode. There I was met, not by an accredited servant of the prince,but by an officer of the French king, who endeavored first by promisesand then by force to obtain the papers from me; and now I have broughtback the reports safely to Amersfort, to lay them before the princein person, and, at the same time, to tax you with double-dealing andtreachery."
Barra listened with an amused air.
"And pray, whom do you expect to delude with this cock-and-bull story?"he said. "Not, surely, the prince, in whose company I was till a latehour last night; and not surely myself, who never in my life eitherissued or heard of any such preposterous order."
"I demand to see the prince, to whom I shall speak my mind," reiteratedWalter, still more curtly.
"You shall see the inside of a prison in a few moments," returnedBarra, with vicious emphasis. But ere he could summon an officer theinner door opened, and there entered a dark, thin, sallow-faced man,with brilliant, hollow-set eyes, who walked with his head a littleforward, as if he had gone all his life in haste.
It was the Prince of Orange himself, dressed in his general's uniform,but without decorations or orders of any kind.
Barra rose at his entrance and remained standing.
"Pray sit down," said the prince to him, "and proceed with yourconversation with these gentlemen of your country."
"I was about," said Barra, deferentially, "to commit to prison thissoldier of the Douglas Dragoon regiment for a most insolent slanderconcerning myself, and also for collecting information as to thecondition of our forces with intent to communicate it to the enemy.There is, indeed, an officer of the King of France with the man atthis very moment, but in disguise."
The prince turned his bright keen eyes upon Wat and Scarlett in turn.
"And you, sir! what have you to say?" he asked, quietly.
Whereupon, nothing daunted, Wat told his plain tale, and showed theorder which he had received from Sergeant Davie Dunbar, signed withBarra's name.
"I never wrote the order, and never heard of it," said Barra, whostood, calmly contemptuous, at the prince's elbow.
"Call Sergeant David Dunbar!" ordered the prince.
It was a few minutes before that stanch soldier arrived. In the meantime, the prince turned his attention to Scarlett.
"You are an officer of the King of France?" he said, with an ominousgleam in his eye as he spoke of his arch-enemy.
"I had that honor," replied Scarlett, "till early this morning, when itwas my fortune to help this ancient friend of mine out of a difficultyinto which I had led him. Moreover, being a gentleman, I could notremain in such a service nor serve with subordinates who knew not thesacredness of a soldier's pledge. I am, therefore, once more a freeman, and my sword is at the disposal of any honorable prince who willaccept of it."
"You were a celebrated master-of-arms in Scotland, were you not?" askedthe prince.
"If your highness is good enough to say so," said Scarlett, bowing."And also in France, the first in estimation in the army of the Princeof Conde."
"And you understand the drilling and mustering of raw levies?" askedthe Prince of Orange, with some eagerness in his tone.
"There are a dozen regiments in the French service at this momentwho are exceedingly well aware of that, your highness," replied JohnScarlett, with a somewhat peculiar smile.
"Come to me this day week at the camp," said the prince, abruptly,after remaining a moment in deep thought.
"Sergeant David Dunbar!" announced an officer of the prince's retinue.
And in a moment that sturdy Scot stood before the stadtholderexceedingly flustered by his sudden summons, and cudgelling his brainsto think why he should be sent for so early in the day by his general.
"You took an order the night before last to this gentleman's quarters?"said the prince. "From whom did you receive that order, and what speeddid you make with your mission?"
"I received the letter from one whom I knew as a servant of my Lord ofBarra--one Haxo, a butcher in the camp. 'Make haste,' he bade me, 'thisis from my lord to the Scot who dwells in the street of Zaandpoort,the dragoon called Walter Gordon of Lochinvar, serving in Douglas'sregiment.' So I went there willingly enough, and eke with speed, themore by token that I knew Wat Gordon and his cousin well, as also WillGordon's wife, who is a wise, sober-like lass of Galloway, and can cookmost excellent suppers."
"That will serve, sergeant," said William of Orange. "There is somemistake or double-dealing here which I shall doubtless discover in goodtime. Come to me both together at the camp this day week at the hour ofnoon, and I will have further conference with you in my tent. You areat liberty to join your regiment, and take your friend with you."
Thereupon Walter went to the prince, and, bending on his knee,presented him with the despatches which, in the inn of Brederode, hehad guarded with his life.
The prince took them without a word
of thanks or commendation, andthrust them into the breast of his coat as carelessly as though theyhad been so much waste paper.
For the soldier-prince, who had never known fear in his life, tookcourage in others as a matter of course.
And so my Lord Barra was left alone in the office of theprovost-marshal, looking blackly across his table after Wat andScarlett as they followed the prince from the room.