Two. Of the many numbers in existence, Two is one of the Three Significant Numbers. The other two are Three and Seven. Three is everywhere, it seems. Three portions to the Christian Trinity, Three witches in the coven, three elements in Qabbalah, Three Kingdoms in the isle of Britain.
There were three horses in this hunting party.
The Laird of Roxbrugh sounded his horn, Blaw, Blaw, Blaw, Blaw. The horses cantered furiously through the wood, in pursuit of the fox. The hounds had been riled up into a frenzy, baying loudly with a deep lust for the fox's blood.
With the Laird was his grandson Tam Lin, and his butler Malcolm, who the Laird had decided to give the day off, as the previous day had been incredibly busy for him.
"Tam!" Yelled the Laird.
"Grandfather?"
"Aw see the fox o'er there!" He pointed to a nearby thicket of hawthorn bushes. The path was too narrow for any dog, but low enough for a horse to step through easily.
"Go after it!"
"But grandfather, what aboot me hawse?"
"Dinnae mind the bloody hawse, just get the damn fox For Bride's Sake!"
"Aalreet, aalreet, Aw'll get the fox, just dinnae harass me aboot it!"
Tam Lin turned his horse around, and let it bolt. It thundered into the thicket, its legs and hooves getting violently scratched by the thorns, but it wasn't long before the fox escaped down a nearby hole. Tam swiftly dismounted, and crawled under the bush to get to the fox. He plunged his hand down the hole, a dagger gripped in his hand.
The fox was nowhere to be found. Something else gripped Tam's hand by the wrist, and tugged; and pulled, and WRENCHED until his whole arm was pulled down the hole. Then something miraculous happened. The hole widened by three feet. Soon Tam's head was in the hole. The hole widened again by another foot. Then another. Then another. And then another five feet, before Tam Lin's whole body was falling freely down the hole, now a shaft, into the dark abyss below.