questioner, lowering his bugle, and reining in his frightened horse,
which was startled by the sudden apparition before him. The dusk had
not yet so far thickened but the king could see that his interlocutor
was young and strikingly beautiful. Although dressed in the garb of
the lower orders, there was a quiet and imposing dignity in her
demeanour as she stood there by the side of the road. Her head was
uncovered, the shawl she wore over it having slipped down to her
shoulders, and her abundant hair, unknotted and unribboned, was ruddy
as spun gold. Her complexion was dazzlingly fair, her eyes of the
deepest blue, and her features perfection, except that her small mouth
showed a trifle too much firmness, a quality which her strong but
finely moulded chin corroborated and emphasised. The king, ever a
connoisseur of womanly loveliness, almost held his breath as he gazed
down upon the comely face upturned to him.
"They told me at Stirling," she said, "that you were hunting through
this district, and I have been searching for you in the forest."
"Good heavens, girl!" cried the king; "have you walked all the way
from Stirling?"
"Aye, and much further. It is nothing, for I am accustomed to it. And
now I crave a word with your majesty."
"Surely, surely!" replied the king with enthusiasm, no thought of
danger in this unconventional encounter even occurring to him. The
natural prudence of James invariably deserted him where a pretty woman
was concerned. Now, instead of summoning his train, he looked
anxiously up and down the road listening for any sound of his men, but
the stillness seemed to increase with the darkness, and the silence
was profound, not even the rustle of a leaf disturbing it.
"And who, my girl, are you?" continued the king, noticing that her
eyes followed his glance up and down the road with some trace of
apprehension in them, and that she hesitated to speak.
"May it please your gracious majesty, I am humble tirewoman to that
noble lady, Margaret Stuart, your honoured mother."
The king gave a whistle of astonishment.
"My mother!" he exclaimed. "Then what in the name of Heaven are you
doing here and alone, so far from Methven?"
"We came from Methven yesterday to her ladyship's castle of Doune."
"Then her ladyship must have come to a very sudden resolution to
travel, for the constable of Doune is in my hunting-party, and I'll
swear he expected no visitors."
"My gracious lady did not wish Stuart the constable to expect her, nor
does she now desire his knowledge of her presence in the castle. She
commanded me to ask your majesty to request the constable to remain in
Stirling, where, she understands, he spends most of his time. She begs
your majesty to come to her with all speed and secrecy."
"I wonder what is wrong now?" mused the king. "I have not heard from
her for nearly a year. She has quarrelled with her third husband, I
suppose, for the Tudors are all daft where matrimony is concerned."
"What does your majesty say?" asked the girl.
"I was speaking to myself rather than to you, but I may add that I am
ready to go anywhere if you are to be my guide. Lend me your hand and
spring up here behind me. We will gallop to Doune at once."
The young woman drew back a step or two.
"No, no," she said. "The Lady Margaret is most anxious that your visit
should be unknown to any but herself, so she begs you to dismiss your
followers and lay your commands upon Constable Stuart of Doune."
"But my followers are all of them old enough to look after
themselves," objected the king, "and the constable is not likely to
leave Stirling where he has remained these many months."
"The Lady Margaret thought," persisted the girl, "that if your retinue
returned to Stirling and learned of your continued absence, anxiety
would ensue, and a search might be undertaken that would extend to
Doune."
"How did my lady mother know I was hunting when you could not have
learned of my excursion until you reached Stirling?" asked the king,
with a glimmer of that caution which appeared to have deserted him.
The girl seemed somewhat nonplussed by the question, but she answered
presently with quiet deliberation,--
"Her ladyship was much perturbed and feared I should not find you at
the castle. She gave me various instructions, which she trusted I
could accommodate to varying contingencies."
"My girl," said the king leaning towards her, "you do not speak like a
serving-maid. What is your name?"
"I have been a gentlewoman, sire," she answered simply, "but women,
alas, cannot control their fortunes. My name is Catherine. I will now
forward to Doune, and wait for you at the further side of the new
bridge the tailor has built over the Teith. If you will secure your
horse somewhere before coming to the river, and meet me there on foot,
I will conduct you to the castle. Will you come?"
"Of a surety," cried the king, in a tone that left no doubt of his
intentions. "I shall overtake you long before you are at the bridge!"
As he said this the girl fled away in the darkness, and then he raised
his bugle to his lips and blew a blast that speedily brought answering
calls.
James's unexplained absences were so frequent that his announcement of
an intention not to return home that night caused no surprise among
his company; so, bidding him good-night, they cantered off towards
Stirling, while he, unaccompanied, set his face to the north-west,
and his spurs to the horse's flanks, but his steed was already
tired out and could not now keep pace with his impatience. To his
disappointment, he did not overtake the girl, but found her waiting
for him at the new bridge, and together they walked the short half
mile to the castle. The young man was inclined to be conversational,
but the girl made brief replies and finally besought his silence.
The night had proved exceedingly dark, and they were almost at the
castle before its huge bulk loomed blackly before them. There was
something so sinister in its dim, grim contour that for the first time
since he set out on this night adventure, a suspicion that he was
acting unwisely crossed the king's mind.
Still, he meditated, it was his mother's own castle, the constable of
which was a warm friend of his--almost, as one might say, a relative,
for Stuart was the younger brother of his mother's husband, so what
could be amiss with this visit?
"You are not taking me to the main entrance," he whispered.
"No, to the postern door."
"But the postern door is situated in the wall high above my reach; it
is intended for the exit of a possible messenger during a siege and
not for the entrance of a guest."
"I am acting in accordance with my instructions," replied the girl. "A
rope ladder descends from the postern door."
"A rope ladder! that sounds promising; will you ascend it?"
"Yes, sire, but meanwhile, I implore your majesty to be silent."
The king said no more until the rope ladder was in his hand.
"I hope it is strong," he murmured.
Then he mounted lightly up in the darkness, until he stood on the sill
of the narrow doorway, when he reached forward his hand to assist his
slower comrade in mounting, but she sprang past him without availing
herself of his aid. In a low voice she begged pardon for preceding
him. Then walked up and up a winding stone staircase, on whose steps
there was barely room for two to pass each other. She pushed open a
door and allowed some light to stream through on the turret stair,
which disappeared in the darkness still further aloft.
The king found himself in a large square apartment either on the
first or second story. It appeared in some sort to be a lady's
boudoir, for the benches were cushioned and comfortable, and there
were evidences, about on small tables, of tapestry work and other
needle employment recently abandoned.
"Will your majesty kindly be seated," said the girl. "I must draw up
the ladder, close the postern door, and then inform my lady that you
are here."
She went out by the way they had entered and shut the door with a
force that seemed to the king unnecessary, but he caught his breath an
instant later as his quick ear seemed to tell him that a bolt had
fallen. He rose at once, tried to open the door, and discovered it was
indeed barred on the outside. One other exit remained to be tested; a
larger door evidently communicating with another room or passage; that
also he found locked. He returned to the middle of the room and stood
there for a few moments with knitted brow.
"Trapped, Jamie, my lad! Trapped!" he muttered to himself. "Now what
object can my mother have in this? Does she expect by such childish
means to resume her authority over me? Does she hope that her third
husband shall rule Scotland in my name as did her second, with me a
prisoner? By Saint Andrew, no!"
The king seized a bench, raised it over his head and crashed it in
bits against the larger door with a noise that reverberated through
the castle.
"Open!" he cried; "open instantly!"
Then he paused, awaiting the result of his fury. Presently he thought
he heard light footsteps coming along the passage and an instant later
the huge key turned slowly in the lock. The door opened, and to his
amazement he saw standing before him with wide frightened eyes, his
guide, but dressed now as a lady.
"Madam," said the king sternly, "I ask you the meaning of this
pleasantry?"
"Pleasantry," echoed the girl, staring at him with her hand upon a
huge iron key, alert to run if this handsome maniac, strewn round by
the wreckage of the bench he had broken, attempted to lay hands on
her.
"Pleasantry?" she repeated; "that is a question I may well ask you.
Who are you, sir, and what are you doing here?"
"Who I am, and what I am doing here, you know very well, because you
brought me here. A change of garb does not change a well-remembered
face," and the king bowed to his visitor with a return of his
customary courtliness, now that his suspicions were allayed, for he
knew how to deal with pretty women. "Madam, there is no queen in
Scotland, but you are queen by right of nature, and though you doff
your gown, you cannot change your golden crown."
The girl's hand unconsciously went up to her ruddy hair, while she
murmured more to herself than to him,--
"This is some of Catherine's work."
"Catherine was your name in the forest, my lady, what is your name in
the castle?"
"Isabel is my name in castle and forest alike. You have met my twin
sister, Catherine. Why has she brought you here?"
"Like an obedient son, I am here at the command of my honourable
mother; and your sister--if indeed goddesses so strangely fair, and so
strangely similar can be two persons--has gone to acquaint my mother
of my arrival."
The girl's alarm seemed to increase as the king's diminished. Trouble,
dismay, and fear marred her perfect face, and as the king scrutinised
her more minutely, he saw that the firm mouth and the resolute chin of
her sister had no place in the more softened and womanly features of
the lady before him.
"Your mother? Who is she?"
"First, Margaret Tudor, daughter of the King of England, second,
Margaret Stuart, wife of the King of Scotland, third, Margaret
Douglas, ill mate of the Earl of Angus; fourth, and let us hope
finally, Margaret Stuart again, spouse of Lord Methven, and owner of
this castle."
The girl swayed as if she would fall, all colour struck suddenly from
her face. She leaned, nearly fainting, against the stone wall, passing
her hand once or twice across her terror-filled eyes.
"Great God," she moaned, "do not tell me that you are James, King of
Scotland, here, and alone, in this den of Douglases!"
"Douglas!" cried the king roused at the hated name. "How can there be
Douglases in the Castle of Doune; my mother's house, constabled by my
friend, young Stuart."
"Your mother's house?" said the girl with an uncanny laugh. "When has
the Lady Margaret set foot in Doune? Not since she was divorced from
my uncle, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus! And the constable? Aye,
the constable is in Stirling. Doune Castle stands gloomy and alone,
but in Stirling with the young king, there are masques, and hunting
and gaiety. Young Stuart draws the revenues of his charge, but pays
slight attention to the fulfilment of his duty."
"You are then Isabel Douglas? And now, to echo your own question, how
came you here? If this is a den of Douglases, as you say, how comes my
mother's castle to be officered by the enemies of her son?"
"That you ask such a question shows little foresight or knowledge of
men. When your first step-father, and my uncle, Archibald Douglas, had
control of this castle through your mother's name, he filled it with
his own adherents."
"Naturally; nepotism was a well-known trait of my domineering
step-father, which did not add to his popularity in Scotland. Who can
get office, or justice against a Douglas? was their cry. But did not
young Stuart, when he was made constable, put in his own men?"
"The constable cares nothing for this stronghold so long as it
furnishes money which he may spend gaily in Stirling."
"I see. So you and your sister found refuge among your underlings? and
where so safe from search as within the king's mother's own fortress,
almost under the shadow of Stirling? An admirable device. Why then do
you jeopardise your safety by letting me into the secret?"
The girl sighed deeply with downcast eyes, then she flashed a glance
at him which had something in it of the old Douglas hauteur.
"I fear," she said, "that it is not our safety which is jeopardised."
"You mean that I am in danger?"
"The same stronghold which gives immunity to a family of the Red
Douglases can hardly be expected to confer security upon James the
Fifth, their persecutor."
"No. Certainly that would be too much to expect. Are you then in this
plot against me, my lady?"
"I have not heard of any plot. If there is one I know nothing of it. I
merely acquaint you with some hint of my fears."
"Then I charge you as a loyal subject of the lawful king, to guide me
from this stronghold, into which I have been cozened by treachery and
falsehood."
Catherine, who had entered silently and unnoticed through the smaller
door, now stepped forward, drew her sister into the room, took out the
huge key, closed the door and locked it, then turned fiercely to the
king. Her beautiful white right arm was bare to the elbow, the loose
sleeve rolled up, and in her hand she held a dagger. With her back
against the newly locked door, she said,--
"I'll be your majesty's guide from this castle, and your perjured soul
shall find exit through a postern gate made by my dagger!"
"Oh, Catherine, Catherine," sobbed Isabel, weeping in fear and horror
of the situation, "you cannot contemplate so awful a deed, a murder so
foul, for however unworthy he may be, he is still the king."
"What is there foul in ridding the world of a reptile such as he? How
many innocent lives has he taken to encompass his revenge? How many
now of our name are exiled and starving because of his action? I shall
strike the blow with greater surety, for in killing him I extinguish
his treacherous race."
"No good can come from assassination, Catherine."
"What greater evil can spring from his death than from his life?"
"His killing will not bring back those whom he has slain; it will not
cause our banished kinsmen to return. It will be a murder for
revenge."
"And not the first in Scotland," said Catherine grimly.
The king had once more seated himself, and now, resting his chin on
his open palm, listened to the discussion with the interested bearing
of one who had little concern with its result. A half amused smile
wreathed his lips, and once or twice he made a motion as if he would
intervene, but on second thoughts kept silent.
"Do not attempt this fell deed, dear sister," pleaded Isabel
earnestly. "Let us away as we intended. The horses are ready and
waiting for us. Our mother is looking for our coming in her room. The
night wears on and we must pass Stirling while it is yet dark, so
there is no time to be lost. Dear sister, let us quit Scotland, as we
purposed, an accursed land to all of our name, but let us quit it with
unstained hands."
"Isabel, darling," said Catherine in a low voice that quavered with
the emotion caused by her sister's distress and appeal, "what unlucky
chance brought you to this fatal door at such a moment? Can you not
understand that I have gone too far to retreat? Who, having caged the
tiger, dare open again the gate and set him free? If for no other
reason, the king must die because he is here and because I brought him
here. Open the door behind you, Isabel, go down the circular stair,
and at the postern step you will find the rope ladder by which I
ascended. Get you to the courtyard and there wait for me, saying
nothing."
"Catherine, Catherine, the king will pardon you. He will surely
forgive what you have done in exchange for his life."
"Forgiveness!" cried Catherine, her eyes blazing again. "I want no
forgiveness from the king of Scotland. Pardon! The tiger would pardon,
till once he is free again. The king must die."
"I shall go as you have bid me, Catherine, but not to do your bidding.
I shall arouse this castle and prevent an abominable crime."
Catherine laughed harshly.
"Whom would you call to your assistance? Douglases, Douglases,
Douglases! How many of your way of thinking will you find in the
castle? You know well, one only, and that is our mother, old and
helpless. Rouse the castle, Isabel, if you will, and find a dead man,
and perhaps a dead sister, when you break in this locked door."
The helpless Isabel sank her head against the wall and burst into a
fury of weeping.
"Ladies," said the king soothingly, rising to his feet, "will you
graciously condone my intervention in this dispute? You are discussing
an important act, from the commission of which all sentiment should
be eliminated; an act which requires the hard strong mind of a man
brought to bear upon the pros and cons of its consummation. You are
dealing with it entirely from the standpoint of the heart and not of
the head, an error common with women, and one that has ever precluded
their effective dealing with matters of State. You will pardon me,
Lady Isabel, when I say that your sister takes a much more practical
view of the situation than you do. She is perfectly right in holding
that, having me prisoner here, it is impossible to allow me to go
scatheless. There is no greater folly than the folly of half doing a
thing."
"Does your majesty argue in favour of your own murder?" asked Isabel
amazed, gazing at the young man through her tears.
"Not so, but still that is a consideration which I must endeavour to
eliminate from my mind, if my advice is to be impartial, and of
service to you. May I beg of you to be seated? We have the night
before us, and may consider the various interesting points at our
leisure, and thus no irremediable mistake need be made."
Isabel, wellnigh exhausted with the intensity of her feelings, sank
upon the bench, but Catherine still stood motionless, dagger in hand,
her back against the door. The king, seeing she did not intend to
obey, went on suavely. There was a light of intense admiration in his
eye as he regarded the standing woman.
"Ladies," he said, "can you tell me when last a King of Scotland--a
James also--and a Catherine Douglas bore relation to each other in
somewhat similar circumstances?"
The king paused, but the girl, lowering at him, made no reply, and
after a few moments the young man went on.
"It was a year more than a century ago, when the life of James the
First was not only threatened, but extinguished, not by one brave
woman, but by a mob of cowardly assassins. Then Catherine Douglas
nearly saved the life of her king. She thrust her fair young arm into
the iron loops of a door, and had it shattered by those craven
miscreants."
Isabel wept quietly, her face in her two open hands. But Catherine
answered in anger,--
"Why did the Catherine Douglas of that day risk her life to save the
king? Because James the First was a just monarch. Why does the
Catherine Douglas of to-day wish to thrust her dagger into the false
heart of James the Fifth? Because he has turned on the hand that
nurtured him----"
"The hand that imprisoned him, Lady Catherine. Pardon my correction."
"He turned on the man who governed Scotland wisely and well."
"Again pardon me; he had no right to govern. I was the king,
not Archibald Douglas. But all that is beside the question, and
recrimination is as bad as sentiment for clouding cold reason. What I
wished to point out is, that assassination of kings or the capture
of them very rarely accomplishes its object. James the First was
assassinated and as result two Stuarts, two Grahams and two Chamberses
were tortured and executed; so his murderers profited little. My
grandfather James the Third was carried off by the Boyds, but Sir
Alexander Boyd was beheaded and his brother and nephew suffered
forfeiture. I think I have shown then that violence is usually
futile."
"Not so," answered Catherine; "your grandfather was assassinated,
and the man who killed him is not known to this day. Your
great-grandfather basely murdered the Black Douglas in Stirling,
thus breaking his word of honour for he had given Douglas safe
conduct, yet he profited by his act and crushed my kinsmen."
"I see, Lady Catherine, that you are too well versed in history for me
to contend with you successfully on that subject," said the king with
a silent laugh. "We will therefore restrict the inquiry to the present
case, as wise people should. Tell me then, so that I may be the better
able to advise you, what is your true object--revenge and my death, or
the wringing from me of concessions for your family?"
"I could not wring concessions from you, because you could not make
good those concessions unless I released you. I dare not release you,
because I dare not trust you."
"I foresaw your difficulty, and so I told your sister that, having
gone so far, you could not retreat. The issue is therefore narrowed
down to death, and how it may best be accomplished. You have made the
tactical mistake of forewarning me. I cannot understand why you did
not mount my horse beside me and stab me in the back as we rode
through the forest. Did this not occur to you, Lady Catherine?"
"It did, but there were objections. Your horse would doubtless have
escaped me, and would have galloped riderless to Stirling; your body
would have been found by break of day, and we but a few hours' march
from Stirling. Here I expect you to lie undiscovered in this locked
room till we are safe in England."
"That is clear reasoning," commented the king with impartiality, "but
have you looked beyond? Who will be the successor of the throne? I
have neither brother nor sister; my two uncles died before I was born,
and I perish childless. I think you mentioned that you wished to
extinguish our line. Very well; what follows? Who is heir to the
throne?"
"It matters nothing to me," said Catherine firmly. "Whoever rules
Scotland could not be a greater enemy to my race than you are."
"I am not so sure of that. I think your dagger-blow will bring
consequences you do not look for, and that your kin, now exiled in
England will find the stroke a savage one for them. You forget that
the stern King of England is my uncle, and on this relationship may
lay claim to the Scottish throne. Be that as it may, it will be no
secret that a Douglas committed the murder; and think you Henry VIII
will offer safe refuge to his nephew's assassins? You much misjudge
him if you do. It would have been far better to have slain me in the
forest. This castle business is but an ill-judged, ill thought-out
plan. I am sorry to appear adversely critical, but such is my opinion,
and it confirms me in the belief that women should leave steel and
State alone."
"I dare not let you go," reiterated Catherine.
"Of a surety you dare not; that is what I have said from the
beginning. On the other hand, I can make no concession, under
coercion, that would save my life. You see we are both cowardly, each
in a different way. And now having come to the absolutely logical
conclusion that the king must die, you should turn your mind to the
difficulties that confront you. I, you see, am also armed."
The king as he spoke took from his doublet a dagger almost similar to
the one held by the girl. A gentle smile graced his lips as he ran his
thumb along the edge, and then glanced up at the two in time to notice
their consternation at this new element in the situation.