“Oh, that’s soon said,” cried the cobbler with some impatience. “‘Keep out of the fire and ye’ll not be burnt,’ says the branch on the tree to the faggot on the woodman’s back. You see, Ballengeich, in this matter I’m between the cart-wheel and the hard road. My head’s off if this ploy miscarries, as you’ve just told me, and my throat’s cut if I withdraw from the secret conclave. It’s but a choice between two hashings. There’s a dead cobbler in any event.”
“I see your difficulty,” said the laird; “do you want to be helped out of it?”
“Does the toad want to get from under the harrow?”
“When is your next meeting, and where?”
“The meetings are held in this room, and the next will be on Wednesday night at eleven o’clock.”
“Bless my soul!” cried Ballengeich. “Would nothing content you but to drink the whole bucketful? The rendezvous in your shop! Then whoever escapes, your head’s on a pike.”
“Aye,” murmured the shoemaker dismally.
“It isn’t taking very many of you to overturn the House of Stuart,” said the laird, looking about the room, which was small.
“There’s just one less than a dozen,” replied the cobbler.
“Then we’ll make up the number to the even twelve, hoping good luck will attend us, for we will be as many as the Apostles. Between now and Wednesday you might confer with your leaders, Flemming. Tell them you know a young man you can trust, who owns exactly the kind of house that James can be kept fast in, if he is captured. Say that your new conspirator will take the oath, or anything else they like to give, and add, what is more to the purpose, that he has a plot of his own which differs from theirs, in giving at least as much chance of success, and possesses the additional advantage of being safe. Whether his plan miscarries or not, there will be no need to fear a reprisal, and that is much to say in its favour.”
“It is everything in its favour,” said the shoemaker with a sigh of relief.
“Very well, then, I will meet you here on Wednesday night at this time, and learn whether or no they agree to have me as one of their number. If they refuse, there’s no harm done; I shall say nothing, and the king will know no more about the matter than he does now.”
“I could not ask better assurance than that,” said the host cordially as his guest rose.
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,”