The words of recognition burst from both at
once. "What! Adam Woodcock at court!" and "What! Michael
Wing-the-wind--and how runs the hackit greyhound bitch now?"
"The waur for the wear, like ourselves, Adam--eight years this grass
--no four legs will carry a dog forever; but we keep her for the
breed, and so she 'scapes Border doom--But why stand you gazing there?
I promise you my lord has wished for you, and asked for you."
"My Lord of Murray asked for me, and he Regent of the kingdom too!"
said Adam. "I hunger and thirst to pay my duty to my good lord;--but I
fancy his good lordship remembers the day's sport on Carnwath-moor;
and my Drummelzier falcon, that beat the hawks from the Isle of Man,
and won his lordship a hundred crowns from the Southern baron whom
they called Stanley."
"Nay, not to flatter thee, Adam," said his court-friend, "he remembers
nought of thee, or of thy falcon either. He hath flown many a higher
flight since that, and struck his quarry too. But come, come hither
away; I trust we are to be good comrades on the old score."
"What!" said Adam, "you would have me crush a pot with you; but I must
first dispose of my eyas, where he will neither have girl to chase,
nor lad to draw sword upon."
"Is the youngster such a one?" said Michael.
"Ay, by my hood, he flies at all game," replied Woodcock.
"Then had he better come with us," said Michael Wing-the-wind; "for we
cannot have a proper carouse just now, only I would wet my lips, and
so must you.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274