"
"Why, man," another said, "what qualms are these? Isn't Scot always
fighting against Scot? Ay, and has been so, as far back as one has ever
heard. It does not take much for a Douglas or a Dunbar to get to
loggerheads; and as to the wild clans of the north, they are always
fighting among themselves."
"Yes, that is all very well," the other said, "and there is no reason
why neighbours should not quarrel, here; but I would rather that they
each summoned their friends, and met in fair fight and had it out, than
that one should pounce upon the other when not expected, and slay and
burn unopposed."
"Ay, ay," two or three others of the men agreed. "It were doubtless
better so, when it is Scot against Scot."
"'Tis border fashion," another put in. "There is no law on the border,
and we fight in our own fashion. Today it is our turn, tomorrow it may
be someone else's. We follow our chiefs, just as the northern clansmen
do; and whether it is a Musgrave or a Baird, a Fenwick or an Armstrong,
he is chief in his own hold, and cares neither for king nor earl, but
fights out his quarrel as it may please him. I am one of William
Baird's men, and his quarrel is mine; and whether we ride against the
King of Scotland or the King of England, against a Douglas or a Percy,
an Armstrong or a Musgrave, it matters not the value of a stoup of
ale.
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