Book 2 — Chapter XVIII

Wherein Lady Katharine describes what took place in the Antechamber where the King made Love to her

While Stenwold was away, I swiftly examined both rooms—the antechamber and the bedroom: they had no entrance and no exit, save by that one door, which was now locked against me. I had only one resource—I could throw myself from one of the windows to the rocks below as a last resort.

The room was full of light from many candles, the windows were heavily draped; I opened the sash of one of them and fastened it back. Then I drew a chair in front of the open window and covered it with the heavy hangings. The night was fair, there was little or no breeze fortunately. Not enough wind came through the open casement to stir the candles even, or, if there did, the draperies were sufficiently close and heavy to contain it. Without examination, it could not have been known in the room that the window was open or that the chair was so placed that I could by means of it leap to the sill.

Fortunately, it was a large window, and I could throw myself through it in a moment. I did not want to go to my death yet—I was young, and loved life, even under the circumstances—and I kept on hoping against hope. I tried to persuade myself that there was some explanation of my husband's conduct that would let me love him and let me show him that love—I vow before God that I had not ceased to care for him, in spite of all—provided I could win away from the dangers I was in. I would not make the wild plunge until the last moment.

These hurried inspections and preparations were scarcely completed when the door was opened, and Lord Stenwold entered; he was followed by two lackeys, who brought me a royal repast. It was set upon a table conveniently placed by direction of the master of the house, and, when all was in readiness, he turned to me with a bow and asked me if there was anything else I wanted. A thought came to me as I watched them arrange the meal, and I answered thus:

"Will not my Lord Stenwold, after the watchful care with which he hath looked to me during our journey, do me the honour to take a glass of wine with me, and drink a toast of my making?"

"My lady, I have never refused to drink, to game, to fight, or to love with anybody on earth," said Stenwold, bowing gallantly, "and I shall not begin now."

"Allow me then."

I stepped to the table, poured out two glasses of wine, proffered him one, and took the other myself. He bowed low as he lifted it up, looking at me inquiringly.

"Your toast, madam?"

"God save the King," said I, with sinister mockery.

I think he must have felt what was in my mind, for that toast was plainly threat, not prayer, and for a moment he hesitated.

"Surely," said I, "no loyal servant of so noble a master can balk at that sentiment."

"So long as you believe in God, madam," he said at last, "you might better have phrased it, 'God save yourself,' but have it your own way; I drink."

I sipped mine; he drained his glass, to my great relief. Then he set the glass down, shrugged his shoulders, turned, and left me. The wine, at least, was not drugged or poisoned. I was not hungry, but I ate heartily for strength and I drank a little of the King's rare vintage, for the same reason.

Again the table provided me with no weapon, yet as I surveyed it disconsolately a thought came to me. I took one of the tall Venetian glasses, went over to the hearth, and deliberately broke it; fortunately, it shattered in such a way as to leave me a smooth space by which to grip it and a sharp edge below to cut or thrust with. It was a poor weapon, but it was the best I could do. I still held it in my hand when again the door was opened; the lackeys removed the table, and as they did so, Stenwold, who had entered again with them, drew aside the heavy curtain veiling the door and said:

"His Majesty the King."

It had come at last, the hour that was to decide my fate, or perchance the King's. Oh, how my heart beat then!

King James entered the room immediately he was announced. Lord Stenwold closed the door, remaining on the outside of it, and I was alone with the King. I had time to mark that the key was not turned and no bolt was shot. That did me little good, after all, for I realised at once that Stenwold would keep watch on the other side and that the whole castle, in fact, would be well guarded, yet I was glad not to be locked in with my persecutor.

King James was royally attired, stars and orders like suns blazed on the breast of his coat, he had all the outward and visible signs of Majesty, but in his clothing alone; for the rest, his face was flushed, evidently he had been drinking and was now perceptibly in his cups, his wig was slightly awry, his dress disordered—a royal spectacle, indeed! He bowed low before me, where I stood as cold as the winter's ice, as rigid as one of our mountains in bonny Scotland, and as disdainful as if he had been the cur that in truth he was.

"Madam," he said, a little thickly, but with an evident attempt at amiability, "you are very welcome to our presence. 'Fore God, having seen you once in that boy's suit, I could not rest until I had you back again at court."

As he spoke, he looked at me, and the blood stirred in me from head to foot, following his evil glances. I could wear that boy's attire before the world without a thought, but before that King, not for a second without shame. I had hated him before—I loathed him then.

"I trust," he went on, "that your voyage hither hath been a pleasant one, that your reception hath been commensurate with your beauty, and that your present entertainment is to your liking."

"Your Majesty," said I, "as I told you before in the presence of the good Bishop Ken, who was your good angel on that day..."

"Name him not," said the King resentfully; "we are well rid of the pestilent Churchman and his pious advices."

"Not so," I persisted.

"Madam, I will not have him mentioned," growled His Majesty.

"You are, or should be, the font of honour and dignity for these three kingdoms; the oppressed, the weak, the persecuted, the tempted, have only you to whom to appeal, as I, a woman, friendless, alone, bereft of all her protectors, appeal to you now."

"Appeal rather to my love for you, Lady Katharine, and I could deny you nothing," he made answer, smirking odiously at me.

"Rather do I appeal to the King's mercy, the King's honour, the King's justice...!" I cried.

"Mean you Lord Jeffreys?" he asked.

"God forbid!"

"'Twas upon his advice I brought you hither," laughed the Monarch.

"So I might have surmised."

"He told me, in his blunt, rough way, that I was more than a fool to let escape such a delicious little..."

"Spare me his vulgar words!" I exclaimed contemptuously.

"I will spare you anything, if you will just love me a little, you little vixen. Come, we have talked enough."

He moved toward me a step. Instantly—God forgive me, it is a fearful thing for a subject to do, but my blood was hot, and I was so enraged—I lifted my hand.

"Come nearer," said I, "and I strike you with this."

The King stared hard at me, and then burst into laughter as he recognised how little formidable a thing it was that I held in my hand.

"What is 't?" he asked. "A bit of broken glass? A woman's weapon."

I was quicker than he thought, for, though he was on me as he spoke and his hand caught at my wrist, I struggled viciously and managed to scratch his face; indeed, I cut it deep enough for blood to come.

"You little spit-fire!" he cried angrily, wresting the broken goblet from me. "What's the matter with you? There is scarce a woman in the realm that would not be honoured by my affection."

"Here is one," answered I, "that finds it only dishonour."

I wrenched myself free from him as he spoke and stepped back from him. He was sober enough now, and in an ugly mood, yet strove to control himself and win me if he could.

"Madam," he pleaded, "be reasonable; you are at my mercy."

"The King's mercy," I mocked. "What mean those words?"

"You don't seem to understand that I love you, Lady Katharine," he went on, "that I can do anything for you, and I will; I will give you riches, I will create you a duchess, I..."

"I have already a higher position than any you can give me," I interposed triumphantly.

"And what's that?"

"I am a true and lawful wife."

"Wife to a man who sold you unto me?"

Glad am I—I thank God for it daily; I shall continue so to do so long as I live—that I answered thus:

"That is a lie."

"It is the truth!" cried the King.

"It will take more than the word of James Stewart to make me believe it."

The King laughed.

"You called me James Stewart, Katharine Clanranald."

"Katharine Richmond," I protested.

"Katharine anything you will; I drop my royalty, I cast it aside, I am a man who loves you, who will have you; nay, shrink not back, you are helpless, your reputation is gone already, you might as well have the sweet with the bitter, the reward with the service, and there is no shame in it after all as the world sees it, kings are exalted above other men. Faith, I know not why I plead a moment with you, when I might take you out of hand, but that I..."

He stepped toward me; I sprang from him and, being fleeter of foot than he, gained the window before he divined my purpose. I tore away the hangings, I leaped upon the sill, and leaned far out, my right knee upon the sill, my left foot on the chair.

"If you come one step nearer," I cried, looking back at him, "I shall hurl myself upon the rocks below!"

"You wouldn't do that," protested the open-mouthed, astonished King, rooted to the spot where he stood.

"Would I not? If you have the least doubt of my purpose, put me to the test; approach me and I die."

"But I offer you riches, rank, power, my love, everything."

"These things spell but two words for me, James Stewart."

I was resolved that I would no longer call him King or Majesty, who was so unworthy of either title or attributes.

"And what do they spell?"

"Shame—dishonour."

"Hey, woman, would you prefer death to our affection?"

"I would prefer death to your crown, if you went with it!" I cried.

The King's back was toward the door, which was in full view from where I crouched upon the broad window-sill. As he stared at me in bafflement, and as I looked at him in triumph, the door softly opened. I did not care much who came into the room. While I maintained my position, I had my own fate in my own hands if a dozen were beside the King; therefore, I looked with little curiosity and was totally unprepared for what I saw.

Silently a splendid figure came through the slowly opened door, which he quietly closed behind him; in his hand he bore a bloodstained sword. It was my husband! He was true—that was my first thought, I swear.

My heart stopped its beating; unconsciously, I looked away from the King. He had no thought evidently but for me, for, taking advantage of my momentary inattention, in two bounds he was upon me. He laid hold of my ankle, my foot being on the chair, and laughed triumphantly.

But I did not care. I made no effort to throw myself over now, not even did I struggle to release myself; my protector was here. In one second all my trust and confidence came back, so far as he was concerned. I knew he could deal with all the kings and crowns on earth to save me. I waited, almost with a sense of amusement at what I knew would be the instant and appalling discomfiture of the King, who, as he seized me, exclaimed:

"I have you now, madam, and who shall deliver you from my hand?"

"I," said my husband, smiling at me.