Malise stood at his head till the Douglas swung himself into the
saddle with a motion light as the first upward flight of a bird.

He put his hand into a pocket in the lining of his "soubreveste" and
took out a golden "Lion" of the King's recent mintage. He spun it in
the air off his thumb and then looked at it somewhat contemptuously as
he caught it.

"I think you and I, Master-Armourer, could send out a better coinage
than that with the old Groat press over there at Thrieve!" he said.

Malise smiled his quiet smile.

"If the Earl of Douglas deigns to make me the master of his mint, I
promise him plenty of good, sound, broad pieces of a noble
design--that is, till Chancellor Crichton hangs me for coining in the
Grassmarket of Edinburgh."

"That would he never, with the Douglas lances to prick you a way out
and the Douglas gold to buy the good-will of traitorous judges!"

Half unconsciously the Earl sighed as he looked at the fair lake
growing rosy in the light of the sunset. His boyish face was
overspread with care, and for the moment seemed all too young to have
inherited so great a burden. But the next moment he was himself again.

"I know, Malise," he said, "that I cannot offer you gold in return for
your admirable handicraft. But 'tis nigh to Keltonhill Fair, do you
divide this gold Lion betwixt those two brave boys of yours. Faith,
right glad was I to be Earl of Douglas and not a son of his master