silver crucifix, and called upon heaven in its mercy to give peace and
strength--fierce, fierce and terrible; but the agonized cry was heard,
the stormy waves were stilled.




CHAPTER V.


Brightly and blithely dawned the 26th of March, 1306, for the loyal
inhabitants of Scone. Few who might gaze on the olden city, and marked
the flags and pennons waving gayly and proudly on every side; the rich
tapestry flung over balconies or hung from the massive windows, in every
street; the large branches of oak and laurel, festooned with gay
ribands, that stood beside the entrance of every house which boasted any
consequence; the busy citizens in goodly array, with their wives and
families, bedecked to the best of their ability, all, as inspired by one
spirit, hurrying in the direction of the abbey yard, joining the merry
clamor of eager voices to the continued peal of every bell of which the
old town could boast, sounding loud and joyously even above the roll of
the drum or the shrill trumpet call;--those who marked these things
might well believe Scotland was once again the same free land, which
had hailed in the same town the coronation of Alexander the Third, some
years before. Little would they deem that the foreign foeman still
thronged her feudal holds and cottage homes, that they waited but the
commands of their monarch, to pour down on all sides upon the daring
individual who thus boldly assumed the state and solemn honor of a king,
and, armed but by his own high heart and a handful of loyal followers,
prepared to resist, defend, and _free_, or _die_ for Scotland.