known," he said, when she had done, "that in all the world
there was no lady more lovable. Twenty years I have loved you, my
Queen, and yet it is but to-day I perceive that in all the world there
is no lady more wise than you."

Philippa touched his cheek, maternally. "Foolish boy! You tell me the
King of Scots has an arrow-wound in his nose? I think a bread poultice
would be best." ... So then John Copeland left the tent and presently
rode away with his company.

Philippa saw that the Regent had his dinner, and afterward mounted her
white palfrey and set out for the battle-field. There the Earl of
Neville, as second in command, received her with great courtesy. God
had shown to her Majesty's servants most singular favor despite the
calculations of reasonable men--to which, she might remember, he had
that morning taken the liberty to assent--some fifteen thousand Scots
were slain. True, her gallant general was no longer extant, though
this was scarcely astounding when one considered the fact that he had
voluntarily entered the melee quite unarmed. A touch of age, perhaps;
Hastings was always an eccentric man; and in any event, as epilogue,
this Neville congratulated the Queen that--by blind luck, he was forced
to concede--her worthy secretary had made a prisoner of the Scottish
King. Doubtless, Master Copeland was an estimable scribe, and yet--
Ah, yes, he quite followed her Majesty--beyond doubt, the wardage of a
king was an honor not lightly to be conferred. Oh yes, he understood;
her Majesty desired that the office should be given some person of
rank. And pardie! her Majesty was in the right. Eh? said the Earl of
Neville.

Intently gazing into the man's shallow eyes, Philippa assented. Master
Copeland had acted unwarrantably in riding off with his captive. Let
him be sought at once. She dictated a letter to Neville's secretary,
which informed John Copeland that he had done what was not agreeable in
purloining her prisoner without leave. Let him sans delay deliver the
King to her good friend the Earl of Neville.

To Neville this was satisfactory, since he intended that once in his
possession David Bruce should escape forthwith. The letter, I repeat,
suited this smirking gentleman in its tiniest syllable, and the single
difficulty was to convey it to John Copeland, for as to his whereabouts
neither Neville nor any one else had the least notion.

This was immaterial, however, for they narrate that