laying
ball in the tennis court of Stirling."

Then came David back, riding swiftly on his fine dark chestnut, which,
being free from the mantle wherein the horses of knights were swathed,
and having its mane and tail left long, made a gallant show as the lad
threw it almost on its haunches in his boyish pride of horsemanship.

"William," said David Douglas, "a word in your ear, brother. The whole
tribe are here,--fat Jamie and all his clan."

The brothers conferred a little apart, for in those troubled times men
learned caution early, and though the Douglas was the greatest lord in
Scotland, yet, surrounded by meaner men as he was, it behoved him to
be jealous and careful of his life and honour.

Earl Douglas came out of the sparred enclosure of the tilt-ring in
order to receive his guests.

First, as an escort to the ambassador royal of France and Scotland who
came behind, rode the Earl of Avondale and his five sons, noble young
men, and most unlikely to have sprung from such a stock. James the
Gross rode a broad Clydesdale mare, a short, soft unwieldy man,
sitting squat on the saddle like a toad astride a roof, and glancing
slily sideways out of the pursy recesses of his eyes.

Behind him came his eldest son William, a man of a true Douglas
countenance, quick, high, and stern. Then followed James, whose lithe
body and wonderful dexterity in arms were already winning him repute
as one of the bravest knights in all Christendom in every military and
manly exercise.

Behind the Avondale Douglases rode two men abreast, with a lady on a
palfrey between them.

The first to take the eye, both by his stature and his remarkable
appearance, rode upon a charger covered from head to tail in the
gorgeous red-and-gold diamonded trappings pertaining to a marshal of
France. He was in complete armour, and wore his visor down. A long
blue feather floated from his helmet, falling almost upon the flank of
his horse; a truncheon of gold and black was at his side. A pace
behind him the lilies of France were displayed, floating out languidly
from a black and white banner staff held in the hands of a young
squire.

The knight behind whom the banner royal of Scotland fluttered was a
man of different mould. His spare frame seemed buried in the suit of
armour that he wore somewhat awkwardly. His pale ascetic countenance
looked more in place in a monkish cloister than on a knightly tilting
ground, and he glanced this way and that wit