THE DOGS AND THE WOLF HOLD COUNCIL
It was a week or two after the date of the great wappenshaw and
tourneying at the Castle of Thrieve, that in the midmost golden haze
of a summer's afternoon four men sat talking together about a table in
a room of the royal palace of Stirling.
No one of the four was any longer young, and one at least was
immoderately fat. This was James, Earl of Avondale, granduncle of the
present Earl of Douglas, and, save for young David, the Earl's
brother, nearest heir to the title and all the estates and honours
pertaining thereto, with the single exception of the Lordship of
Galloway.
The other three were, first, Sir Alexander Livingston, the guardian of
the King's person, a handsome man with a curled beard, who was
supposed to stand high in the immediate favours of the Queen, and who
had long been tutor to his Majesty as well as guardian of his royal
person. Opposite to Livingston, and carefully avoiding his eye, sat a
man of thin and foxy aspect, whose smooth face, small shifty mouth,
and perilous triangular eyes marked him as one infinitely more
dangerous than either of the former--Sir William Crichton, the
Chancellor of the realm of Scotland.
The fourth was speaking, and his aspect, strange and ofttimes
terrifying, is already familiar to us. But the pallid corpse-like
face, the blue-black beard, the wild-beast look, in the eyes of the
Marshal de Retz, ambassador of the King of France, were now more than
ever heightened in effect by the studied suavity of his demeanour and
the graciousness of language with which he was clothing what he had to
say.
"I have brought you together after taking counsel with my good Lord of
Avondale. I am aware, most noble seigneurs, that there have been
differences between you in the past as to the conduct of the affairs
of this great kingdom; but I am obeying both the known wishes and the
express commands of my own King in endeavouring to bring you to an
agreement. You will not forget that the Dauphin of France is wedded to
the Scottish princess nearest the throne, and that therefore he is not
unconcerned in the welfare of this realm.
"Now, messieurs, it cannot be hid from you that there is one
overriding and insistent peril which ought to put an end to all your
misunderstandings. There is a young man in this land, more powerful
than you or the King, or, indeed, all the powers legalised and
established within the bounds of Scotland.
"Who is above the law, gentlemen? I name to you the Earl of Douglas.
Who hath a retinue ten times more magnificent than that with which the
King rides forth? The Earl of Douglas! Who possesses more than half
Scotland, and that part the fairest and richest? Who holds in his
hands all the strong castles, is joined by bond of service and manrent
with the most powerful nobles of the land? Who but the Earl of
Douglas, Duke of Touraine, Warden of the Marches, hereditary
Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom?"
At this point the crafty eyes of Crichton the Chancellor were turned
full upon the speaker. His hand tugged nervously at his thin reddish
beard as if it had been combing the long goat's tuft which grew
beneath his smooth chin.
"But did not you yourself come all the way from France to endue him
with the duchy of Touraine?" he said. "Doth that look like pulling him
down from his high seat?"
The marshal moved a politic hand as if asking silence till he had
finished his explanation.
"Pardon," he said; "permit me yet a moment, most High Chancellor--but
have you heard so little of the skill and craft of Louis, our most
notable Dauphin, that you know not how he ever embraces men with the
left arm whilst he pierces them with the dagger in his right?"
The Chancellor nodded appreciation. It was a detail of statecraft well
known to him, and much practised by his house in all periods of their
history.
"Now, my lords," the ambassador continued, "you are here all
three--the men who need most to end this tyranny--you, my Lord of
Avondale, will you deign to deliver your mind upon this matter?"
The fat Earl hemmed and hawed, clearing his throat to gain time, and
knitting and unknitting his fingers over his stomach.
"Being a near kinsman," he said at last, "it is not seemly that I
should say aught against the Earl of Douglas; but this I do
know--there will be no peace in Scotland till that young man and his
brother are both cut off."
The Chancellor and de Retz exchanged glances. The anxiety of the
next-of-kin to the title of Earl of Douglas for the peace and
prosperity of the realm seemed to strike them both as exceedingly
natural in the circumstances.
"And now, Sir Alexander, what say you?" asked the Sieur de Retz,
turning to the King's guardian, who had been caressing the curls of
his beard with his white and signeted hand.
"I agree," he replied in a courtly tone, "that in the interests of the
King and of the noble lady whose care for her child hath led her to
such sacrifices, we ought to put a limit to the pride and insolence of
this youth!"
The Chancellor bent over a parchment to hide a smile at the sacrifices
which the Queen Mother had made for her son.
"It is indeed, doubtless," said Sir William Crichton, "a sacrifice
that the King and his mother should dwell so long within this Castle
of Stirling, exposed to every rude blast from off these barren
Grampians. Let her bring him to the mild and equable climate of
Edinburgh, which, as I am sure your Excellency must have observed, is
peculiarly suited to the rearing of such tender plants."
He appealed to the Sieur de Retz.
The marshal bowed and answered immediately, "Indeed, it reminds me of
the sunniest and most favoured parts of my native France."
The tutor of the King looked somewhat uncomfortable at the suggestion
and shook his head. He had no idea of putting the King of Scots
within the power of his arch enemy in the strong fortress of
Edinburgh.
But the Frenchman broke in before the ill effects of the Chancellor's
speech had time to turn the mind of the King's guardian from the
present project against the Earl of Douglas.
"But surely, gentlemen, it should not be difficult for two such
honourable men to unite in destroying this curse of the
commonweal--and afterwards to settle any differences which may in the
past have arisen between themselves."
"Good," said the Chancellor, "you speak well. But how are we to bring
the Earl within our danger? Already I have sent him offers of
alliance, and so, I doubt not, hath my honourable friend the tutor of
the King. You know well what answer the proud chief of Douglas
returned."
The lips of Sir Alexander Livingston moved. He seemed to be taking
some bitter and nauseous drug of the apothecary.
"Yes, Sir Alexander, I see you have not forgot. The words,'If dog eat
dog, what should the lion care?' made us every caitiff's scoff
throughout broad Scotland."
"For that he shall yet suffer, if God give me speed," said the tutor,
for the answer had been repeated to the Queen, who, being English,
laughed at the wit of the reply.
"I would that my boy should grow up such another as that Earl
Douglas," she had said.
The tutor stroked his beard faster than ever, and there was in his
eyes the bitter look of a handsome man whose vanity is wounded in its
weakest place.
"But, after all, who is to cage the lion?" said the Chancellor,
pertinently.
The marshal of France raised his hand from the table as if commanding
silence. His suave and courtier-like demeanour had changed into
something more natural to the man. There came the gaunt forward thrust
of a wolf on the trail into the set of his head. His long teeth
gleamed, and his eyelids closed down upon his eyes till these became
mere twinkling points.
"I have that at hand which hath already tamed the lion," he said, "and
is able to lead him into the cage with cords of silk."
He rose from the table, and, going to a curtain that concealed the
narrow door of an antechamber, he drew it aside, and there came forth,
clothed in a garment of gold and green, close-fitting and fine,
clasped about the waist with a twining belt of jewelled snakes, the
Lady Sybilla.