"Be sure, then, I will not keep all these grey-beard sorners about
me," he said, lowering his voice cautiously; "I will only have young
gallant men like you and David there. But what comes here?"

There was a stir among the servitors at the upper end of the room.
Sholto, who stood behind his master's chair, heard the skirl of the
war-pipes approach nearer. It grew louder, more insistent, finally
almost oppressive. The doors at either end were filled with armed
men. They filed silently into the hall in dark armour, all carrying
shining Lochaber axes.

Douglas leaned back in his chair, and looked nonchalantly on like a
spectator of a pageant. He continued to talk to the King easily and
calmly, as if he were in his own Castle of Thrieve. But Sholto saw the
white and ghastly look on the face of the Chancellor, and noted his
hands nervously grip the table. He observed him also lean across and
confer with Livingston, who nodded like one that agrees that the
moment of action has come.

At the upper end of the hall were wide folding doors which till now
had been shut. These were opened swiftly, either half falling back to
the wall. And through the archway came two servitors in black habits,
carrying between them on a huge platter of silver a black bull's head,
ghastly and ominous even in death, with staring eyeballs and matted
frontlet of ensanguined hair.

"Treachery!" instantly cried Sholto, and ere the men could approach he
had drawn his sword and stood ready to do battle for his lord. For
throughout all Scotland a bull's head served at table is the symbol of
death.

The Earl did not move or speak. He watched the progress of the men in
black, who staggered under their heavy burden. David also had risen to
his feet with his hand on his sword, but William Douglas sat still.
Alarm, wonder, and anxiety chased each other across the face of the
young King.

"What is this, Chancellor--why is the room filled with armed men?" he
cried.

But Crichton had withdrawn himself behind the partisans of his
soldiers, and down the long table there was not a man but had risen
and bared his sword. Every eye was turned upon the young Earl. A score
of men-at-arms came forward to seize him.

"Stand back on your lives!" cried Sholto, sweeping his blade about him
to keep a space clear about his youthful master.

But still the Earl William sat calm and unmoved, though all others had
risen to their feet and held arms in their hands.

"W