And now, my Lord of Berwick, an it please thee to proceed, we demand admission to thy citadel in King Edward's name.

Bring up the other prisoners." Concealing his wrath with difficulty, the Earl of Berwick and his attendants dashed forward over the drawbridge into the castle at full speed, closing the gates and lowering the portcullis after them.

After a brief space, the portcullis was again raised, the gates flung wide apart, and the men-at-arms were discerned lining either side, in all due form and homage to the officers of their sovereign.

During the wrathful words passing between the two earls, the attention of the crowd had been given alternately to them and to the Countess of Buchan, who had utterly forgotten her own precarious situation in anxiety for Nigel, and in pity for the unfortunate child, who had been hurled by the soldiers close to the spot where she stood.
"Do not leave him there, he will be trampled on," she said, imploringly, to the officers beside her.

"He can do no harm, poor child, Scotch though he be.