Book 1 — Chapter X

In which I bargain successfully for that which is as dear to me as the Life of my Father

I had succeeded in saving my father's life. It was incredible, but none the less true. Yet my task was but half achieved. All my joy would be turned into bitterness, if, through my action my good friend, Sir Hugh Richmond, were to suffer.

"Make out a pardon," continued the King, "for the traitorous Earl of Clanranald. Let it be conditioned upon his instant departure from our realm of Scotland. If he be found alive therein four days after he hath been enlarged from prison, his head shall be forfeit. Make out also a safe-conduct for this brave young lady back to Scotland."

The King spoke directly neither to the Bishop nor to the Justice. It was Jeffreys who broke the silence.

"Do it thou, Lord Bishop," he said roughly. "Thy hand is more used than mine to the writing of pardons."

"Thank God for that!" said the good Bishop, drawing writing materials toward him and at once beginning.

"Art satisfied with our royal clemency, madam?" said the King, smiling.

"Sire," I replied, "it fills me with joy, but 'tis only what I might have expected from your royal mercy."

May God forgive me for that atrocious lie! I whispered the instant I had uttered it, as I continued:

"I have yet another petition to lay before Your Majesty."

"What's that, girl?" said the King. "Hast another father?"

"Not a father this time. A lover, as I live!" roared Jeffreys triumphantly. "Said I not so, Your Majesty?"

"Not a lover," said I to the King, "but Sir Hugh Richmond lieth charged with treason under close arrest. I would also have a full pardon for him."

"Pardon for a traitor?"

"He is not so guilty as he seems, Your Majesty. I robbed him of the warrant fairly and burned it. It was not until after it had gone that he retook me, and then his treason consisted in letting me go free that I might appeal with confidence to Your Majesty's tender heart."

The King swelled visibly.

"Ay," he said, "tenderhearted should be the King. My lord Jeffreys, did any one ever attribute tender heart to you?"

"Not in the service of Your Majesty," bellowed the Justice. "I have no heart to pity treason to Your Majesty."

"'Blessed are the merciful,' interposed Ken softly, "'for they shall obtain mercy.'"

"Mercy," said the King, who was in a tender mood apparently, "'tis a pleasant word."

Indeed he might well think it so, since by common report it was one he was but little accustomed to use.

"Out upon both word and thing!" cried Jeffreys. "I plead for justice on the traitorous soldier. Your Majesty's power hath been limited already by the mercy you have shown the false Clanranald."

"'And earthly power doth then show likest God's when mercy seasons justice,'" quoted the Bishop still softly, looking kindly at me.

I recognised Master William Shakespeare's words as I had recognised them before on Master Dunner's lips.

The King hesitated as before between these two differing counsellors. And once more I threw the golden weights in the balance, hoping to incline it my way.

"If it please you, Sire, I have yet another five thousand pounds...."

The King started.

"For charity, Your Majesty," I added quickly, "if Sir Hugh Richmond be enlarged."

"By the Mass," said the King, betraying himself, at which Ken started, "methinks the lady rains gold pieces."

"Sir Hugh Richmond's whole estate will be confiscate, Your Majesty," said Jeffreys. "'Tis worth much more."

"Why, so it will," replied the King, "yet five thousand pounds more for charity, 'tis a goodly sum, hey, my Lord Bishop?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty, well expended it will relieve the suffering of many of God's poor," returned the Bishop.

"Quite so," said the King.

He stopped again. I had played my last card. I could do no more if it failed. Jeffreys opened his mouth to speak. As he did so, my heart sank, but the King stopped him.

"My Lord Chief Justice," he said, "we will decide this matter ourselves. Madam," he said at last, "your plea for mercy hath been heard again. Sir Hugh Richmond's life shall be spared. His estates shall be confiscate. He is broke from his rank, dismissed from our guards, and must leave our realm at once. My Lord Bishop, since you have already tried your hand, will you draw up the writing for that?"

"With alacrity, Your Majesty," said the Bishop, busying himself writing once more.

"Now, madam, I believe that all is completed except..."

The King paused.

I thrust my hand into the bosom of my dress and drew forth the bills of exchange. I very well knew what he wanted; the mean King, not content with confiscating my friend's estate, would have the bribe as well. He was more avaricious even than the base and contemptible Jeffreys if it were possible for any one to go lower than this unjust judge.

"They are here, Your Majesty, ten thousand pounds in bills of exchange upon London," I said, lifting them up.

"You may present them yourself, madam," said the King with a manner he meant to be gracious, as I made as if to hand them to General Feversham.

Thereupon, I approached the King, taking care that my access to him should be on the side of Bishop Ken, who drew back courteously as I came near. I knelt before the King and extended the papers. His Majesty took them, examined them cannily, laid them on the table before him, and extended his hand. I had just bought his favour in the most barefaced and open way, yet such as it was I had received mercy, although I knew that without the money, all my pleas would have been of no avail. There was no help for it; although I could rather have bitten it, I had to kiss the royal hand.

"Here are the writings, Your Majesty," said Bishop Ken.

The King signed them; they were sealed with the royal seal which lay upon the table, folded, tied, waxed by the Bishop's own hand, and then were handed to me. I had triumphed in all points. I could not resist a look at Jeffreys as I took them. And if looks could kill, he had been a dead man. Indeed, for that matter, my lord repaid my envenomed glance with interest. I little knew what was brewing behind his malevolent aspect.

"Here, too," said the King, "is your safe-conduct."

"I thank Your Majesty once more," said I, "with all the gratitude in a daughter's heart, and now I crave leave to withdraw."

"Wait!" cried Jeffreys hatefully. "Your Majesty, you have pardoned two notorious criminals, one an atrocious rebel, the other a traitor against your person. You have not, however, disposed of this woman."

"What mean ye, Jeffreys?"

"By her own confession she, too, is a traitor to Your Majesty. She robbed Sir Hugh Richmond on the King's Highway. She burned the warrant for her father."

"Shame!" protested the Bishop, rising. "This passeth all bounds, Your Majesty. I have kept silent while this bloodthirsty Man of Belial hath raved and blasphemed. Were I not a man of peace..."

"I wear a sword as I have said, Your Majesty," interposed Feversham, "and I will most gladly make this lady's cause my own if you will but give permission."

"Peace, gentlemen all! No brawling in our presence. My Lord Chief Justice hath spoken true. This woman is a traitor, and we have not yet disposed of her personal affairs."

I would have given the world at that moment for another five thousand pounds.

"Perchance," sneered Jeffreys, almost, as it were, reading my thoughts, "she hath come prepared with another offer to Your Majesty's needy charities. Is it so, madam?"

"Alas, sir," said I, lifting my hands, "you have my all. My only hope is in your clemency."

"You shall not hope in vain," said the King promptly and to the great surprise of everybody, I am sure.

"Thank God that I hear Your Majesty speak those words," cried the Bishop.

There was a muffled roar from Jeffreys.

"Is she to go scot-free, Your Majesty?"

"No," said the King. "Her punishment shall be suited to her crime."

What could that be, I thought, but death? Well, if I had saved my father and Sir Hugh, I could well die.

"I will confer," said the King, "with the Bishop here upon it."

At that my hopes took an upward bound.

"But first," he turned to me again, "I would have you return to your abiding place and after supper present yourself to me as the highwayman you have declared yourself to be. Meanwhile leave here the papers."

"Sire!" cried I imploringly.

"Enough," said the King. "My mind is made up as to that. Feversham, do you escort this lady. I hold you responsible for her custody. She must be produced here after supper, and mark ye that she come in manly fashion else she shall feel the weight of our displeasure."

"May I not have my father's and the soldier's pardons to take with me?"

"They shall be delivered to you to-night," was the unsatisfactory reply.

My heart sank. Perhaps some of my disappointment appeared in my face.

"On the word," said His Majesty, "of a king." He paused as if there were some doubt as to the value of that attestation, as indeed there was. "On the word of a gentleman, I promise you shall have them," he added.

He bowed not ungracefully. He had some of the Stewart charm, for all his meanness, when he chose to display it. He picked the pardons up and handed them to the Bishop.

"Here, my lord, do you be the custodian of them until the lady returns."

"I would Your Majesty had given them to me!" cried Jeffreys.

"I know you too well for that," laughed the King.

"You have played at mercy, Sire," said the Justice, frowning.

"It was my fancy," said the King haughtily, "for the first time; it may be for the last time, but whatever it be, I will not have it questioned. Go, Feversham. Until to-night, madam. And you, my lords, attend me."

The Earl of Feversham, who had evidently been deeply moved by my story, was kindness itself to me. His own carriage, a much more luxurious equipage with much better horses than the public conveyance I had hired, which he dismissed forthwith, was placed at my disposal. Together we rode back to the inn, and taking my word of honour that I would present myself in the parlour thereof in due time to enable us to keep the appointment with the King, he most obligingly left me to my own devices.

Bidding the inn maid who had accompanied me to call me without fail in time for me to make ready, I slipped off my dress, threw myself upon the bed, and fell instantly to sleep. The greater anxiety had been removed from my heart. Although I do not pretend to disdain life, yet since I had secured the freedom and immunity from further punishment of my father and my soldier, naught else very greatly mattered. I did not really think that anything very serious was toward, so far as I was concerned, and whatever may be the explanation, I fell fast asleep. The short period of rest greatly refreshed me and presently I felt another woman.

When the maid summoned me, I arose, bathed and put on my faded, tarnished suit of blue and silver. Round my waist I belted my sword, freshening the clothes where I could, and then booted, spurred, wigged, hatted, coated, armed, I descended to the parlour where the Earl of Feversham awaited me. He was evidently much struck by my appearance, but had the delicacy to say nothing.

We returned to the palace a-horseback, it being quicker and suited to the changed conditions. Promptly at the appointed time we were ushered into the presence of the King in the same room in which the interview of the afternoon had taken place. Now, I had worn this suit of blue and silver after the first compunction of conscience with absolute indifference. I had become entirely accustomed to it, and my modesty took no affront because I was seen abroad in it. I had passed muster easily enough for a stripling and I had never thought of what the clothes concealed or revealed until that moment when I stood in the presence of the King.

The same gentlemen who had been with him before were with him now, Jeffreys on his right, Ken on his left. Naturally I suppose I made a striking figure. Their curiosity was, without doubt, much excited, and they were all anxious to see me. The look that the Bishop bent upon me was full of interest, but it was full of a gentle consideration, almost of pity. He might have looked at his own daughter that way, deprecating the fact while he acknowledged the necessity for her unmaidenly appearance. But the glances of the King and his minion were so brutal, so suggestive, so degrading that unconsciously, as my face flamed and my body tingled, I clapped my hand to the hilt of my sword.

"By the Mass," laughed the King, although there was a quaver of uncertainty in his cowardly voice, "never lay your hand on your sword in the royal presence in that manner. Stay, madam," he cried hastily as I made a bold step forward. "Feversham!"

The officer quietly laid a restraining hand upon my arm.

"Bethink you where you are, madam," he whispered, "and how much depends on your conduct."

"Your Majesty," said I quickly, "I did but lay my hand upon my sword to proffer it in your service,"—which was another falsehood, for I would have been glad to have driven it into Jeffreys' black heart in his very presence; ay, even into the King's heart also.

"You come of a stock, madam," said the King, "which makes us doubt such protestations of true service. Yet she can be a bold enough enemy; hey, my lord?"

He turned to the Bishop.

"She hath shown here, Your Majesty," returned the prelate, "how deeply devoted she is to the noble earl, her father."

"She shows more than that," roared Jeffreys, leering lustfully, "she shows a pretty figure, a well turned leg...."

My hand went to my sword again. Had I been a man, I could not have more fiercely resented his disgracefully insulting words and looks. Again Feversham laid his hand upon my arm.

"Sire," he burst out, "this is unendurable. Your Majesty hath made me the protector and guardian of this lady. As a man of the sword I usually have little to do with those of the robe, but on my word..."

"I shall myself protect this lady's honour," interposed the King loftily.

It seemed to me that the protection was like to be that afforded by the wolf to the lamb. Still, however, bad as he might be, he did not equal Jeffreys in baseness. There was something apparently in being a king.

"And I think you go too far, Jeffreys," His Majesty ran on.

"Why, you wanted to see for yourself," the other muttered.

"Will you be silent, sir?" cried the King, now thoroughly aroused and indignant at being thus shamed before the rest, at which Jeffreys slunk back, abashed.

"Your story, madam," continued the monarch, addressing me, "seemed so incredible to me that I wished to see for my own eyes what appearance you made, and by our Lady, what hath been disclosed of your temper makes me the more inclined to credit it. We have deliberated carefully with the Lord Bishop as to your future punishment, and..."

He stopped.

"Wouldst like to stay at our court and win our royal favour?" he asked, with a certain eager solicitation in his bearing.

At this Jeffreys' lip curled, and the Bishop looked gravely anxious. They both knew very well what he meant and so, in sooth, did I.

"Your Majesty," said I, "I must share the fortunes of my father, and I take it that his presence will not be acceptable at your court."

"Very well then," said the King, looking very much disappointed at my refusal to his sudden proposition, "we will say no more on't, save to add this, should your inclinations ever change, you will find a warm welcome here ... I mean at court."

"I thank Your Majesty," said I.

The King turned to the Bishop, who arose, bowed, and presented three sealed documents. The King took them in his hand and then extended them to me.

"Here," said he, "is the pardon of your father, that of Sir Hugh Richmond, and..." he paused as he lifted the third paper, "and your own sentence."

"And may I ask what that is, Sire?"

"You may ask," was the answer, "but you are not to be told what it is until you reach Edinburgh."

"Whatever it may be," said I, "I shall submit to it gladly in view of Your Majesty's clemency to those I came hither to save."

The King laughed uproariously.

"Don't be too sure of that," he said. "Now, Feversham, will you have this lady and these documents delivered to General Ramesay and Sir Alexander Forfair at Edinburgh on pain of our displeasure and without delay?"

"Your Majesty," I cried, "let me take the pardons there alone. I give you my word of honour, Sire, that I will not break the seal or look within that which concerns me personally, but I will deliver it as it stands, and the others also, to the Lord Chief Justice."

"Your word of honour as a man?"

"As a woman, Sire."

"And why do you wish to go alone?"

"Because I can make the greater speed if I be not hampered by an escort of soldiery."

"Would you take a woman's word, Your Majesty?" growled Jeffreys.

"Not that of the women with whom you consort, my lord," said the King caustically, "but of this one, yes. How if you should be stopped, madam?"

"I can defend myself," I answered, "and these papers would be of no value to any one but myself. There is not a highwayman in Scotland who would despoil me of them, or who, knowing my story, would not aid my progress."

"You shall go as you came, alone," said the King. "Feversham, take orders for the lady's departure on the morrow, escort her safely beyond the limits of the town."

"It shall be done, Your Majesty," returned the soldier.

"And now, Sire," I asked, "have I leave to retire?"

"You may go," said the King magniloquently, "and hereafter, when men speak ill of me as they often do of kings, remember that in your case at least I used you well."

"I shall not forget, Your Majesty," said I, bowing low, "your royal kindness, nor the reasons therefor," I could not help adding in spite of the danger, as I thought how I had bribed him.

The King looked at me suspiciously at this equivocal compliment, which was a great act of folly on my part, for I had not yet got away with my precious documents, but by great good-fortune for me he said nothing.

"Have I Your Majesty's leave to speak a word of farewell and acknowledgment to Your Majesty's friends?" I asked further.

The King nodded gravely.

"As for you, sir," then said I, turning to the Bishop, "you have been a father in God indeed to the afflicted and the troubled, the cast down and the weak. I shall remember it in far Scotland, and before I go, may I ask your prayers and your blessing?"

I humbly knelt before him as I had not knelt since I had knelt to the King himself when I first entered the room.

The old man, his homely face lighted with divine and tender compassion, laid his hands upon my head and prayed for my defence.

"You have said well," commented the King, somewhat touched by this tender action, "for you owe more to the cleric than you dream of. Now, 'tis your turn, Jeffreys."

He laughed viciously.

"As for you, sir," said I, rising and turning toward him,—I stood this time with my head up and my hand upon my sword,—"I would to God I were in truth instead of seeming a man, for, saving the royal presence, I would drive this weapon through your black heart, and were there any men of my race alive, they would never rest until they had struck you down."

"Treason, treason!" bellowed Jeffreys. "She would raise a weapon against the King, his Justice, Your Majesty!"

"You brought it on yourself," said the King coolly. "Faith, I like the woman's spirit. Look to it, Jeffreys! Look to it! Hast any word for me, madam?"

"No more than I have said, Sire, save to wish that I had another five thousand pounds."

The King started.

"For Your Majesty's charities."

"You have said words enough," returned James, who evidently liked ill the turn of the conversation. "Had best withdraw from our presence now."

I went out of the chamber with my colours flying, General Feversham in attendance upon me. The gallant soldier chuckled mightily when we were safely out of earshot of the King.

"Faith, madam," he said, "you made a fine end. Ride you to-morrow morning?"

"Sir," said I, "a word in your ear. You will not betray me?"

"On the faith of a soldier, no."

"I fear the King, I fear Lord Jeffreys more. He is capable of apprehending me and destroying the pardons. Therefore, I ride to-night."

"But you are road-weary."

"What of that? I will take an unfrequented road, and lie to-morrow in some quiet spot until I be recovered."

"You shall not go alone," said Feversham. "The peril that you mention is not imaginary. I myself will ride the night through with you. Nay, I have a wife and daughters older than yourself. You may trust me without fear."

"Indeed, I do," I cried, gladly extending my hand, which the brave soldier took and shook vigorously.

"I will see you safely over the frontiers. Damn that Jeffreys for a black-hearted villain. He is a man of peace, but he hath slain and tortured more in his Bloody Assize than even that most ruthless soldier Kirke himself."

Which was putting it pretty strongly, indeed, I thought!