Book 1 — Chapter IX

My Interview with the King of England and the good and bad Angels that attended him

I pass over the adventures of my journey albeit they were sufficiently thrilling to furnish pages for a romance. On second thoughts I went via Galashiels, Hawick, Norham, Warwick, and Shields to Durham. The distance as the crow flies was not much more than a hundred miles; by the road it was perhaps half again as long. I accomplished it in four days and a half at the expense of a foundered horse which I left at Norham. A man as hard pressed as I could have done it in less time, I know, but for a woman it was a fine ride, I have been told by those whose judgment I value, and certainly it was hard upon me.

Early in the afternoon of the fifth day my horse and I staggered into Durham. Which was the more tired I cannot say. For myself I was utterly weary. What little good looks I might have boasted in the beginning had been entirely worn away.

Had my errand been completed, I doubt not I should have collapsed utterly, but the hardest part was yet to come. I ascertained from the landlord of the hotel where I drew rein that His Majesty was still in Durham, or rather he was at Bishop-Auckland, the residence of the Lord Bishop of Durham. Rumour had it that His Majesty was to move on the morrow. I had no time to lose, therefore, and it was well that by hard riding, without sparing myself, I had arrived as soon as I had.

I was shown to a private chamber and there summoned the landlady and took her into my confidence. She was an honest, motherly sort of a woman. There was no reason for concealment. I told her who I was, and for what I had come, and asked her aid. She was blithe to assist me. I was well provided with ready money, not merely the bills of exchange for the greater sum, but sufficient for all the expenses of my journey, and it was an easy matter, therefore, for the worthy woman to procure me dress suited to my sex and station.

I lacked the freedom of my man's attire when I was again stayed within my woman's garments, and yet there was a certain satisfaction in being once more a girl as Nature had designed me. I forced myself to partake of food and wine. The landlady and her daughter acted as my tire-women. Somewhat refreshed by my meal and a bath, I called a carriage, and accompanied by the young girl, set out in more comfort than at any other period in my journey for Bishop-Auckland.

I went just as I was, pale, haggard, drawn, and worn. With my short crop of curly hair I must have looked strangely out of mode. The landlady was for touching my cheeks with rouge and for supplementing my lack of long locks with false ones which she declared could easily be procured at the nearest wig-maker's, but I would have none of it.

It was quite late when we reached the castle, and some demur was made as to my admittance. It was not until I had declared my name and rank to the gentleman-in-waiting that I effected entrance. When I told him that I was my father's daughter, he looked at me curiously, but after a momentary hesitation bowed before me and led me into the palace, leaving the maid without.

I had never seen King James. The mean and treacherous qualities he afterward showed, indeed, which were first displayed in his conduct after Monmouth's rebellion, had not yet become widely known, but we in Scotland had our suspicions of his character. I looked for no royal magnanimity or generosity from His Majesty.

It was with a dubious and a sinking heart, therefore, that I followed my guide. We presently stopped before a great door. The officer knocked thereon, and after a moment was bidden to enter. Directing me to remain where I was until further notice, he at once opened the door, and passed within, leaving it slightly ajar.

I had so much at stake that I did that from which under other circumstances I would have recoiled. I stepped closer to the door where I could hear what transpired, if I could neither see nor be seen.

"Well, sir," I heard a voice from within saying, high, thin, imperious notes, "what means this interruption?"

"May it please Your Majesty," was the reply, "there is a young woman without who seeks audience."

"Woman! What woman?" the first voice ran on.

"She says that her name is Clanranald, Your Majesty."

"What!" came in violent suddenness from the one whom I judged to be the King.

"Yes, Your Majesty. She professes to be Lady Katharine Clanranald, daughter of the earl of that ilk."

"What would she with us? We will not see her."

"A woman," broke in a third voice, harsh, cold, infinitely brutal and cruel, "Your Majesty, should ever be welcome to a king, especially if she have no natural protector."

How I loathed and hated that voice with its frightful insinuation! I wondered whose it might be? But I had no time to indulge my emotions, for the King spoke again.

"True," he laughed, "Clanranald must ere this have left his head by the block. Sir Hugh Richmond hath had time to go and come."

"Those," said a fourth voice, "who are fatherless should have a father in the King, Your Majesty."

It was in substance just what the other man had said, but how different was its tone and meaning? There were sweetness, gentleness, as well as force in the new voice that moved my heart. There was some kindness in that room then after all, I thought.

"Well put, my lord," said the King. "Captain Culver, you may admit the lady."

"How," said the third voice, which had made the ineffably brutal suggestion a moment before, "if she be armed and hath come to revenge her father's death?"

"Well thought on, my lord," said the King.

"I will take it upon myself to see that Your Majesty comes to no harm," broke in a fifth voice at this juncture, speaking our language brokenly with a slight French accent, by the way, which I shall not attempt to reproduce.

"'Tis well, my friend. Stand you there on guard with your sword drawn and keep the girl at a distance."

"I want no sword, Your Majesty," was the reply, "to master a woman."

"I hold you responsible for her, Louis. Now, Captain Culver."

In another moment my messenger and guide came out to the anteroom, threw open the door, and motioned me to proceed. Summoning my courage, I stepped through the doorway. The door was closed behind me immediately, and I found myself in a vast vaulted room, a library apparently. On a high chair at the head of a large table sat the King. I knew him at once. To his left there was a man in the robes of a Bishop of the Church, a man of kindly, benignant, gentle, merciful face, so different in his aspect from the man who sat on the other side of the King that his good heart, which would have been evident anywhere, was the more marked by contrast. The other man wore the dress of a cavalier, but he had thrown over it the robe of a justice. His face was handsome but marred by the most brutal, cruel, and licentious expression. His eyes stared at me and his look was an insult. On the hither side of the table an elderly but gallant soldier of foreign aspect in the rich uniform of a general officer waited. Next to the Bishop's his was the pleasantest countenance that I fronted. Pride, haughtiness, cruelty, covetousness were evidenced in the King's face, but by the side of the man next to him, he almost looked like an angel of light.

I surveyed the four with lightning-like rapidity. I was fighting for life, my father's life, Sir Hugh Richmond's life, and I almost felt in that baleful royal presence for my own honour as well, and I must take stock of my enemies or friends.

"The King, madam!" cried the soldier, inclining his head toward His Majesty as I advanced.

I sank to my knees instantly and stretched out my hands.

"Your Majesty," I pleaded, "mercy!"

"Rise, madam," said the King. "Nay, stand you there," he added quickly as I rose and made a sudden movement toward him, "by the Earl of Feversham."

I glanced rapidly at the soldier. So this was Louis de Duras, the French soldier of fortune, the favourite of the King, the commander of his armies, the hero of Sedgemoor. This was the commander who had dashed all of Monmouth's hopes. It was the Bishop who spoke.

"Your Majesty, the young woman looks weary. Will not your grace permit her the privilege of a chair?"

"Ay," said the King indifferently, "she may be seated, if she will."

"I would make the rebel stand," growled the man upon the other side under his breath while the Earl of Feversham courteously handed me a chair.

"I' faith you have made many of them stand upon nothing, Jeffreys," laughed the King uproariously.

So that was Jeffreys, he of the Bloody Assize, the greatest disgrace to justice that ever had been seen in all England. He had hanged and burned and beaten and scourged and robbed and murdered without let or hindrance after Sedgemoor, and writ his name in such gory letters upon the pages of history that not all the waters of all the oceans could ever wash him clean, or wash out his damnable record. I looked upon him and I hated him.

The fierce soldier, the unjust judge, the mean king—into what den of wild animals had I thrust myself? Well, I had played gallantly heretofore, and I would bear myself in the same way to the end.

"I thank Your Majesty," I said, declining the proffered seat. "I come as a suppliant from my father."

"From your father?" inquired the King in great wonderment.

He looked at Jeffreys and laughed.

"You must have come from hell then," roared the Justice, emboldened by the King's look, "for the vile traitor's head hath rolled from the block four or five days since."

"Shame!" murmured the Bishop, not so low but that all could hear.

I despised Jeffreys; I loathed him; I answered him back not as a woman, I am glad to say, but as a man.

"That's a lie!" I cried impetuously. "My father lives."

"The falsehood can easily be made truth then, woman!" cried the King, leaning forward with an angry frown.

"At Your Majesty's pleasure," said I boldly. "God hath put the lives of your poor subjects into your hand, but it is to stay that royal hand that I am come."

"What mean you?"

"Give me leave, Your Majesty," interposed Jeffreys. "A royal warrant for the execution of the Earl of Clanranald was made out; I wrote it myself. It was sent to Sir Alexander Forfair, my brother of Scotland. Hath he dared to delay its execution, hussy?"

He rose as he spoke, leaned over the table and shook his fist in my face. I cannot describe the insolence, the overbearing brutality of his manner. I looked him straight in the face, and answered nothing.

"Well, madam?" cried the King.

"Your Majesty," I answered, "I will hold no converse with this man. My errand is with yourself."

"Give her to me, Your Majesty," roared Jeffreys. "I will have her stripped and whip her naked at the cart's tail like Anne Lisle and the rest of the cursed brood of rebels."

"Sire," interposed the Bishop quickly, "Your Majesty will not do this thing. The meanest subject hath the right to appeal to the Crown, and here is a defenceless woman who begs only for her father's life."

"Peace, Jeffreys!" said the King. "As for you, my lord of Bath and Wells"—so this was good Bishop Ken of whom I had heard!—"your advice for once is good. I will hear the lady. Madam, your story."

"I thank Your Majesty," I said quickly. "Sir Hugh Richmond was set on by a highwayman near Edinburgh, shot, left senseless in the road, despoiled of the royal warrant, which was burned. Therefore, there hath as yet been no execution, fortunately for my plea."

"The matter then is but postponed," said the King indifferently.

"For the present, yes, Your Majesty, but meanwhile if Your Majesty will permit me"—I took from a little bag which hung at my waist a parcel of papers—"here is an appeal for clemency. 'Tis signed by the Lord Chief Justice and the Justices of your High Court. 'Tis countersigned by many great and loyal gentlemen to Your Majesty. 'Tis attested by depositions to show my father's unwillingness to follow the Duke of Monmouth, his efforts at restraint. Upon it I base an appeal for mercy."

The King looked hard upon me, frowning as before.

"Fetch hither the paper, Feversham," he said at last.

When it was placed in his hands—it was a brief paper for all its weighty import—he glanced at it curiously and balanced it a moment, his eye turning to Jeffreys and then to Ken. What was passing through his mind? I divined instantly. He would give it to one or the other of these men for examination, and as he gave it, he would determine the fate of us all, for I do believe no human soul ever looked to Jeffreys for mercy and received it.

My hand caught my throat. I bent forward, such pleading in my looks as for the moment seemed to move even the hard heart of the King. To my relief, he turned to the left and handed the note to the Bishop.

"Do you examine this, my lord," he said, "with all speed, and let me have your best opinion of its contents."

Ken instantly opened the paper.

"Now," said the King, turning his face toward me, "while my lord of Bath and Wells reads your humble petition for mercy, I would fain question you further, madam."

"I have naught to conceal from Your Majesty," replied I.

"You say that Sir Hugh Richmond was stopped and robbed in the highway?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Was he seriously wounded?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"Why hath he not returned at once then to report the failure of his errand?"

I hesitated.

"Sire," said I at last, "rumour hath it that he is under close arrest."

"Arrest!"

"It is suspected that he connived with the highwayman."

"That's treason!" roared Jeffreys.

"But, Your Majesty...." I faltered, and then I stopped.

How could I say that it was not true, for it was. The King looked puzzled.

"Hath search been made for this highwayman?"

"I suppose so," was my answer.

"Your Majesty," interposed Feversham, "I know General Ramesay well. He would leave no stone unturned to apprehend the villain who affected this bold despoilment."

"Evidently," said the King to me, "it was some one interested in the welfare of your house who thus robbed my messenger on the highway. Do you know his name?"

What I did from one point of view was wild, foolish, reckless, and yet I believe that my action was the result of one of those sudden inspirations which sometimes govern people to their weal or woe in critical moments.

"Your Majesty," said I boldly, "I myself despoiled your messenger."

"Good God!" exclaimed the King, "you, a woman, to overmaster a tried soldier like Sir Hugh Richmond?"

"It was not as a woman that I did it."

"What mean you?"

"In man's attire I won his friendship, Sire, and then unsuspecting shot him. My bullet fortunately, however, glanced across his forehead and merely stunned him. His bullet tore its way through my shoulder."

"Here is no collusion between ye then," said the King.

"Nay, Your Majesty. But afterward when I had burned the warrant, Sir Hugh overtook me, discovered me to be a woman, had compassion on me, failed to report my assault, did not deliver me to the authorities, and now languishes in the Tolbooth in my place."

"That accounts for your short hair," said the King irrelevantly. "I had wondered why you came thus out of the mode. You cut it off to pass for boy?"

"Your Majesty's penetration does you high honour," said I, passing him the sweet compliment deftly.

"I should like to see thee as lad," laughed the King. "What think ye, Jeffreys?"

"Saving your grace," cried the Justice, "I think her an impudent, traitorous wench who deserveth nothing whatever from Your Majesty's hands but a place on the block beside her father and her paramour."

"You coward!" I cried. "You low, base, ineffable cur!"

"Did ye not pay a price to Sir Hugh for his complacence, answer me that, you little baggage?" he roared.

"Your Majesty," cried I, flaming, "I appeal to you as the first gentleman of your kingdom to protect me from the insults of this man. Naught, I declare upon my word of honour as my father's daughter, hath passed between Sir Hugh Richmond and myself that the whole world might not know."

"You go too far, Jeffreys," said the King, turning upon the Chief Justice. "This passeth even my easy permission."

"I shall be pleased, madam, with the King's gracious permission," said Feversham with the chivalric gallantry of his race and ancestry, "to make your cause my own."

He touched his sword and looked threateningly at Jeffreys. There was kindly blood in this courteous soldier. I thanked him by a grateful look. It was the good Bishop who interposed in the angry scene.

"Your Majesty," he said, "I have read here the papers. 'Tis as the maiden declares. The petition is signed by the most noble and most loyal gentlemen of Scotland. The affidavits indicate the Earl of Clanranald's reluctance, his endeavour to restrain his fellow-conspirators. Here is surely a case for clemency."

"Did you ever see a case that was not for clemency?" roared Jeffreys.

"Few indeed, sir," said the Bishop, confronting him without blenching.

The King took the papers and stood looking at me thoughtfully. He was hesitating. With a prayer I played my last card.

"Your Majesty," I said, "out of the wreck of my father's fortune I have here some five thousand pounds, which should Your Majesty incline to mercy, I will gladly place in Your Majesty's hands."

"Bribery, woman!" cried the King.

But I had wit enough to see the answer.

"God forbid, Your Majesty, but there must be some worthy friend, some needy charity which Your Majesty would be glad to relieve with this benefaction and evidence of our gratitude."

"What would you do, Jeffreys? The maid speaks fair."

"Were I the King," growled the Justice, "I would have the head of the Earl, the five thousand pounds, and the woman as well."

"And your advice, Lord Bishop?"

"I would give the maid her father's life, her own liberty, and return her the five thousand pounds."

The King paused.

"I choose the middle course. She shall have her liberty and her father's life, and we will keep the five thousand pounds ... for charity, my lords."