The brow of the king grew dark, terrible wrath beamed from his eyes, and it seemed for the moment as if he would deliver up the murderous villain into the hands that yearned to tear him piecemeal.

There was a struggle, brief yet terrible, then he spoke, and calmly, yet with a bitter stinging scorn.
"'And this is Buchan's oath,' he said.

'Ha! doth he not bravely, my friends, to fly the battle-field, to shun us there, that hireling hands may do a deed he dares not?
For this poor fool, what shall we do with him ?' "'Death, death--torture and death! what else befits the sacrilegious traitor ?' burst from many voices, pressing forward to seize and bear him from the tent; but the king signed them to forbear, and oh, what a smile took the place of his previous scorn! "'And I say neither torture nor death, my friends,' he tried.

'What, are we sunk so low, as to revenge this insult on a mere tool, the instrument of a villainous master?
No, no! let him go free, and tell his lord how little the Bruce heeds him; that guarded as he is by a free people's love, were the race of Comyn as powerful and numerous as England's self, their oath would avail them nothing.

Let the poor fool go free!' "A deep wild murmur ran through the now crowded tent, and so mingled were the tones of applause and execration, we knew not which the most prevailed.
"'And shall there be no vengeance for this dastard deed ?' at length the deep, full voice of Lord Edward Bruce arose, distinct above the rest.
'Shall the Bruce sit tamely down to await the working of the villain oath, and bid its tools go free, filling the whole land with well-trained murderers?
Shall Buchan pass scathless, to weave yet darker, more atrocious schemes ?' "'Brother, no,' frankly rejoined the king.