Prince of Good Fellows — 02 - THE KING INTERVENES Pt 2

They shook hands, and the guidman of Ballengeich, after peering out into the darkness to see that the way was clear, took his leave.

The laird was prompt in keeping his appointment on the following Wednesday, and learned that the conspirators were glad of his assistance.

The cobbler's tool-box had been pushed out of the way, and a makeshift table, composed of three boards and two trestles, occupied the centre of the room.

A bench made up in similar fashion ran along the back wall, and there were besides, half a dozen stools.

A hospitable pitcher of strong drink stood on the rude table, with a few small measures, cups and horns.

As if the weight of conspiracy had lain heavy on his shoulders, the young Laird of Ballengeich seemed older than he had ever looked before.

Lines of care marked his brow, and his distraught manner proclaimed the plot-monger new to a dangerous business.

The lights, however, were dim, and Ballengeich doubted if any there present would recognise him should they meet him in broad day, and this, in a measure, was comforting.

The cobbler sat very quiet on his accustomed bench, the others occupying the stools and the board along the wall.

"We have been told," began the leader, who filled the chair at the head of the table, where he had administered the oath with much solemnity to their new member, "we have been told that you own a house which you will place at our disposal should the purpose for which we are gathered here together, succeed."

"I have such a house," said the laird, "and it is of course, placed freely at your service.

But the plan you propose is so full of danger that I wondered if you have given the project the deep consideration it deserves.

It will be a hazardous undertaking to get the king safely into my house, but let us suppose that done.

How are you going to keep him there?"

"We will set a guard over him."

"Very good.

Which of you are to be the guardsmen, and how many?"

The conspirators looked one at another, but none replied.

At last the leader said,-- "It will be time to settle that when we have him safely under bolt."

"Pardon me, not so.

The time to arrange all things is now.

Everything must be cut and dried, or failure is certain.

The moment the king is missing the country will be scoured for him.

There will be no possible place of refuge for miles round that will not be searched for the missing monarch.

We will suppose that four of you are guarding the king, two and two, turn about.

What are the four, and myself, to say to the king's soldiers when they demand entrance to my house?"

"The king is but a boy, and when he sees death or compliance before him he will accede to our demands."

"He is a boy, it is true," agreed the laird, "but he is a boy, as I pointed out to my friend Flemming, who escaped from the clutches of the Earl of Angus, out of the stronghold of Falkland Palace, and who afterwards drove the earl and many of the Douglas leaders into English exile.

That is the kind of boy you have to deal with.

Suppose then, he gives consent to all you place before him?

Do you think he will keep his word?"

"I doubt it," said the cobbler, speaking for the first time.

"The word of a Stuart is not worth the snap of my finger."

"On the other hand, if he does not accede," continued Ballengeich, "what are we to do with him?"

"Cut his throat," replied the leader decisively.

"No, no," cried several others, and for a moment there was a clamour of discussion, all speaking at once, while the laird stood silently regarding the vociferous disputants.

Finally their leader said,-- "What better plan have you to propose?"

"The king is a boy," spoke up Ballengeich, "as you have said."

At the sound of his voice instant silence reigned.

"But he is a boy, as I have told you, extremely difficult to handle with violence.

I propose then to approach him peaceably.

The fact that he is a boy, or a very young man at least, implies that his mind will be more impressionable than that of an older person whose ideas are set.

I propose then that a deputation wait upon his majesty and place before him the evils that require remedying, being prepared to answer any question he may ask regarding the method of their amendment.

If peaceable means fail, then try violence, say I, but it is hardly fair to the young man to approach him at the beginning of his reign with a dirk in the hand.

His answer would likely be a reference to his headsman; that is a favourite Stuart mode of argument.

I have some friends about the castle," continued the laird.

"I supply them with various necessaries from the farm; and if I do say it myself, I am well thought of by some in authority.

I can guarantee you, I am sure, a safe conduct for your mission."

"But if safe conduct be refused?"

said the leader.

"In that case, no harm's done.

I shall divulge the names of none here present, for indeed I know the name of none, except of my friend the cobbler."

"Will you head the delegation, and be its spokesman?"

"No. My power to serve you lies in the fact that I am well thought of in the palace.

This power would be instantly destroyed were I known as disaffected.

I would put it on this basis.

My friend, Flemming, is the spokesman of ten others who have grievances to place before his majesty.

Therefore, as a matter of friendship between Flemming and myself, I ask safe conduct for the eleven."

"Indeed," cried the cobbler, "I wish you would leave my name out of the affair, since no one else seems eager to put his own forward."

"I put mine forward in making the request," said Ballengeich.

"Aye, but not as one of the deputation."

"Very well," agreed the laird in an offhand manner, "if you make a point of it, I have no objection to saying that I shall make one of the concert.

I only proposed to keep out of it, because it is always wise to have an unbiased person to put in his word at a critical moment, and it seems to me important to have such a person on the outside.

But it shall be exactly as you please; I care little one way or the other.

I have made my proposal, and with you rests the acceptance or the rejection of it.

If you think it safer to kidnap a king than to have a friendly chat with him, amicably arranged beforehand, then all I can say is, that I don't in the least agree with you.

Please yourselves; please yourselves.

We have but one neck apiece, and surely we can risk it in the manner that brings us most content."

"There is wisdom in what the laird says," cried one of the more moderate party.

"I never liked the kidnapping idea."

"Nor I," said the cobbler.

"It was but a wild Hielan' notion."

"My project has this advantage," continued Ballengeich with nonchalant impartiality, "that if it does not succeed, you can then fall back upon abduction.

Nothing in this proposal interferes with the ultimate carrying out of your first plan."

"It is putting our heads in the lion's mouth," objected the leader, but in the discussion that followed he was outvoted.

Then came the choosing of the delegates, on which rock the enterprise was nearly wrecked, for there seemed to be no anxiety on the part of any four present to form the committee of expostulation which was to meet the monarch.

At last it was decided that all should go, if Ballengeich could produce a written safe-conduct signed by the king, which would include eleven persons.

Within three days this document was placed in the hands of the cobbler by Ballengeich, who told him that it had been signed that morning.

And he added that the king had expressed himself as well pleased to receive a deputation of his loyal subjects.

The cobbler handled the passport gingerly, as if he were not altogether assured of its potency to protect him.

"The conference is for Wednesday at midday," said Ballengeich.

"Assemble some minutes before that hour in the courtyard of the castle, and you will be conducted to the Presence."

"Wednesday!"

echoed the cobbler, his face turning pale.

"Why Wednesday, the day of our weekly meetings?

Did you suggest it?"

"It was the king's suggestion, of course," replied Ballengeich.

"It is merely a coincidence, and is, I think, a good omen."

"I wish I were sure of it," moaned the cobbler.

Before the bell rang twelve the conspirators were gathered together in the courtyard of Castle Stirling; huddled would perhaps be the more accurate word, for they were eleven very frightened men.

More than one cast longing looks towards the gate by which they had come in, but some places are easier to enter than to leave, and the portal was well guarded by stalwart soldiers.

As the bell slowly tolled twelve, an official came from the palace into the courtyard, searched the delegation for concealed weapons, and curtly commanded them to follow him.

Climbing the stone stairway they were ushered into a large room containing a long oaken table with five chairs on one side and six on the other.

At the head of the table was a high-backed seat resembling a throne.

The official left them standing there alone, and after he had closed the door they heard the ominous sound of bolts being thrust into their places.

The silence which followed seemed oppressive; almost suffocating.

No man spoke, but each stood like a statue holding his cap in his hand.

At last the tension was broken, but it would scarcely be correct to say that it was relieved.

The heavy curtains parted and the king entered the room, clad in the imposing robes of his high state.

A frown was on his brow, and he advanced straight from the doorway to the throne at the head of the table, without speaking or casting a glance at any one of the eleven.

When he had seated himself he said gruffly,-- "There is a chair for each of you; sit down."

It is doubtful if any of the company, except the cobbler, at first recognised their ruler as the alleged Laird of Ballengeich; but at the sound of the monarch's voice several started and looked anxiously one at another.

Again the king addressed them,-- "A week ago to-night I met you in Flemming's room.

I appointed this day for the conference that the routine of your meetings might not be disturbed, as I thought it well that the last of your rebellious gatherings should be held in the Castle of Stirling, for I am resolved that this conclave shall be your final effort in treason.

One of your number has stated that the word of a Stuart is not to be trusted.

This reputation appears to have descended to me, and it is a pity I should not take advantage of it."

When the king ceased speaking he lifted a small mallet and smote a resounding bell, which was on the table before him.

A curtain parted and two men entered bearing between them a block covered with black cloth; this they placed silently in the centre of the floor and withdrew.

Again the king smote the bell and there entered a masked executioner with a gleaming axe over his shoulder.

He took his place beside the block, resting the head of his axe on the floor.

"This," continued the king, "is the entertainment I have provided for you.

Each of you shall taste of that," and he pointed to the heading block.

The cobbler rose unsteadily to his feet, drawing from his bosom with trembling fingers the parchment bearing the king's signature.

He moistened his dry lips with his tongue, then spoke in a low voice.

"Sir," he said, "we are here under safe conduct from the king."

"Safe conduct to where?"

cried James angrily, "that is the point.

I

stand by the document; read it; read it!"

"Sir, it says safe conduct for eleven men here present, under protection of your royal word."

"You do not keep to the point, cobbler," shouted the king bringing his fist down on the table.

"Safe conduct to where?

I asked.

The parchment does not say safe conduct back into Stirling again.

Safe conduct to Heaven, or elsewhere, was what I guaranteed."

"That is but an advocate's quibble, your majesty.

Safe conduct is a phrase well understood by high and low alike.

But we have placed our heads in the lion's mouth, as our leader said last Wednesday night, and we cannot complain if now his jaws are shut.

Nevertheless I would respectfully submit to your majesty that I alone of those present doubted a Stuart's word, and am like to have my doubts practically confirmed.

I would also point out to your majesty that my comrades would not have been here had I not trusted the Master of Ballengeich, and through him the king, therefore, I ask you to let me alone pay the penalty of my error, and allow my friends to go scatheless from the grim walls of Stirling."

"There is reason in what you say," replied the king.

"Are you all agreed to that?"

he asked of the others.

"No, by God," cried the leader springing to his feet and smiting the table with his fist as lustily as the king had done.

"We stand together, or fall together.

The mistake was ours as much as his, and we entered these gates with our eyes open."

"Headsman," said the king, "do your duty."

The headsman whipped off the black cloth and displayed underneath it a box containing a large jug surrounded by eleven drinking-horns.

Those present, all now on their feet, glanced with amazement from the masked man to the king.

The sternness had vanished from his majesty's face, as if a dark cloud had passed from the sun and allowed it to shine again.

There sparkled in the king's eye all the jubilant mischief of the incorrigible boy, and his laughter rang to the ceiling.

Somewhat recovering his gravity he stretched out his hand and pointed a finger at the cobbler.

"I frightened you, Flemming," he cried.

"I frightened you; don't deny it.

I'll wager my gold crown against a weaver's woollen bonnet, I frightened the whole eleven of you."

"Indeed," said the cobbler with an uneasy laugh, "I shall be the first to admit it."

[Illustration: "HEADSMAN: DO YOUR DUTY."

] "Your face was as white as a harvest moon in mid-sky, and I heard somebody's teeth chatter.

Now the drink we have had at our meetings heretofore was vile, and no more fitted for a Christian throat than is the headsman's axe; but if you ever tasted anything better than this, tell me where to get a hogshead of it."

The headsman having filled their horns, the leader raised the flagon above his head and said,-- "I give you the toast of The King!"

"No, no," proclaimed the boyish monarch, "I want to drink this myself.

I'll give you a toast.

May there never come a time when a Scotchman is afraid to risk his head for what he thinks is right."

And this toast they drank together.