Chapter VII: Book II: The Keeping of a Wife (2)

"Don't jest that way again or I might indulge my own humour, which, I assure you, hath a more biting point than yours;" and, as that point was plainly visible to him, he could not have missed my meaning. "I know perfectly well that you and that pander Stenwold are as much responsible as the cowardly King, whom I have served long enough to estimate at his true worth, or worthlessness. He hath exiled me, he hath stolen my wife; I am no longer his man, but Prince William's, across the water, and, when we come back, God help King James and you!"

"I am sure," protested Jeffreys, "that I wish you well and..."

"No more of that," I said curtly.

"I'll e'en help you to get your wife," he ran on, "if..."

"I intend that you shall do so without conditions."

"But I am helpless here," continued my lord. "Release me and I will go to the King..."

"I know a better way than that," I said.

"What way?"

"I will bring my wife from his Majesty's hand with an order from you, my lord."

"From me? I don't understand you. I cannot issue orders to the King, sir. You rave."

"Nay, I was never soberer. I shall tell the King that I have you in safe ward; it will be her life or your life. If a hair of her head is harmed, you shall pay."

"My God, man!"

"The King loves you, you say."

"Yes, but..."

"Have you no confidence in the reality of his affection?"

"Ay, surely, but..." he began, more feverishly.

"Enough," said I. "I have decided, and from my decision there is no appeal to any court. On yonder table are writing materials; go to it; write as I dictate."

"Nay, good Sir Hugh, I..."

"Hesitate but a moment and I will make your life pay before I have ascertained that she has suffered. You know, Lord Jeffreys, that I have nothing to lose."

"I'll write, I'll write, but be not so hasty with thy point, Richmond."

"No more," said I. "Take the quill."

"What shall I write?" he asked, seizing the pen.

And thus I dictated to him:

"For God's love, Your Most Gracious and Royal Majesty, I am held prisoner by Sir Hugh Richmond, who threatens me with instant death should his wife suffer any mistreatment at Your Majesty's hands. I have served you well, Sire; leave me not now defenceless in mine enemy's hand. Sir Hugh is desperate; he will kill me. I fear me for my life. Your most faithful humble servant."

He wrote it all down at my dictation.

"Hast finished?" I asked.

He nodded his head.

"Sign it."

He scrawled beneath it, "Jeffreys, Lord Chief Justice of England."

"Seal it," said I.

His hands trembled so he could scarcely drop the wax, his mouth was so dry it was difficult to moisten the seal, but he managed somehow or other.

"You never wrote truer words in your life," I said, taking the paper, and the seal as well, and examining both of them carefully, keeping him well covered the while, to see that he had played me no tricks in his writing.

"What next?" he asked.

"Go into yonder room." I pointed to the bedchamber.

"I have done what you asked, you would not murder me now? The laws of war require that a hostage be kindly entreated and..."

"I intend to lock you there until I have seen the King. Go!"

Seeing no help for it, he rose to his feet and entered the room, followed by me and Macleod. Jeffreys continued to protest, but I silenced him with that wonderfully bright persuader in my hand.

"Now that I have the letter," said I, "I care little whether you are alive or dead, and, for the toss of a coin, I would rid the world of you. But I am not a judge; being only a poor soldier, I'll keep faith with you. Your life depends entirely upon your absolute obedience; I must bind you securely."

He said no more, but suffered himself to be bound without resistance. Macleod had brought plenty of rope; we lashed him until he was as immobile as an iron bar; then we picked him up and laid him on the bed and, with what remained of the rope, secured him so that he could not move about or roll off to the floor.

"You will be enlarged, doubtless, in the morning," said I. "I wish some of Monmouth's friends and followers whom you hounded to death could see you now."

"For God's sake," he gasped, "if you must leave me this way, give me a draught of wine!"

"Nay," I replied smilingly. "Here is something that will suit your thirst and dry humour much better."

I crammed into his huge mouth, which he had opened gaspingly to protest, a soiled towel which I took from the wash-stand. I rammed it in hard and, with a piece torn from the sheet, I bound it down around his head and neck. I thought my lord's veins would burst in his forehead, he grew so purple.

"A pleasant night to you," said I. "And may the love of your King secure your release in the morning."

We extinguished the candles, went out into the large room, and closed the door. In a voice that Jeffreys within could easily hear, I said to my man:

"You will stay here on this side of the door until I send for you in the morning. If the prisoner by chance should get free of his bonds, or should fall from his bed, or should make any outcry, go in and kill him without further delay. You understand?"

"I do, sir, and it shall be as you wish," he answered loudly.

Macleod ostentatiously drew a chair up in front of the door and then, as I had need of him and could not leave him there, he rose from the chair and noiselessly followed me down the room. We extinguished the lights in the outer chamber, and, having locked all doors, took the keys with us. We had but little fear, unless some alarm was given, but that the Lord Chief Justice would be quite safe for the night, and that he was going to pass such night as he had never passed before. We waited to see the landlord, and I bestowed upon him some more of King James' his guineas. I showed him the letter sealed with Lord Jeffreys' seal. He could not read it, but he recognised the signet.

"I know that seal full well," he said, entirely satisfied by it.

"My Lord Jeffreys hath retired for the night, and upon no chance is he to be disturbed until morning, unless I should come back or send. He doth not wish the lady you know to be sent for."

"I understand," he said knowingly. He was a wise and understanding landlord indeed!

"The door is locked behind us," I added, "and, if you value your life, keep away from it and keep others away as well."

"Your excellency shall be obeyed."

By this time Macleod and the hostler of the Inn had brought around the horses again. We mounted them once more and cantered down the street until we struck the river road. So far everything had gone without a hitch. The King lay at Stenwold House; my wife had been recently brought there. Access to him would be difficult, doubtless, but I now had means to open the gate and pass the guard. Once inside it would go hard if I did not effect Katharine's release.

If Clanranald had succeeded in his part of the plan all would be well. He ought not to be more than five hours behind the brigantine, I thought. As we got away from the houses, we eagerly searched the sea, and sure enough, between the far-away lighthouses on either side of the river-mouth, there was a vessel. It was so dark we could not have seen her had she not carried three lights set in a triangle, a red one at the top! Clanranald was on time. The tide now approaching full flood, he ought to be abreast Stenwold House in a few hours. We set spurs to our horses and dashed on rapidly.

_Chapter_
XVI

_How My Lord Stenwold settled his Account and
paid his Debt in full_

Stenwold House stood on the bank of the river, about half-way between Monkwearmouth town and the lighthouse on the point that jutted out seaward far beyond. It was some distance from the outskirts of the village, and I noted, as we galloped along, that the surrounding country was lonesome and desolate.

I had at first intended to take Macleod into the castle with me, but a better thought came to me as we rode. Long before we reached the house I drew rein and, to Macleod's great and overwhelming disappointment, I outlined exactly what I wished him to do.

"Upon second thoughts," I said, "I will not take you with me further. Do you go back to the village and get a boat, a wherry that two of us can row and yet one that you can manage yourself on a pinch, and bring it to the river-bank under the walls of the castle yonder."

"But Lord Stenwold, sir," protested the worthy Scotsman, who evidently would fain play a bolder part.

"I'll take care of him," I replied.

"I would like it well," persisted my attendant stoutly, "if I could take the payment for that kiss myself."

"Do not fear, man," said I, "I'll take payment for us both, and, unless I blunder strangely, he will never live to kiss another woman after this night. You could not do any special good with me in the castle. The two of us could not take the place by force, and, for strategy, one is as good as two or a thousand--ay, better. You can serve us all, and your revenge, best by providing the means of escape. I am like to need it both sorely and quickly to-night."

"Yonder's our ship, sir," he said, silenced by my emphasis.

"Yes, I have marked her."

We both stared seaward at the lights. I was sorry that I had not arranged some method of signalling the Earl, but none that I could have thought of would have been practicable and, indeed, any attempt at it would infallibly have betrayed us.

"Am I to rent, borrow, or steal a boat, your honour?" asked Macleod, appreciating the fact that my decision, which was only common-sense, was unalterable.

"You are to be here within the hour with the boat. I care not how you get it. That's your own lookout, but get it. Don't fail me; remember your wife is on that ship; and it might be convenient for you to bear in mind that Lord Jeffreys has had ample opportunity to familiarise himself with your face and figure as well as with mine, and I would not give a penny for your life if you are in England when he gets loose."

"I shall be there within an hour," answered the Scotsman stoutly. "This horse, sir?"

"You can't take him aboard ship," I replied; "you must leave him behind."

"Very good, sir." He half-wheeled his horse and then stopped. "You are going on a desperate venture for your wife," said he; "if a poor man might be so bold..."

His hand went out toward me rather tentatively in the darkness. I waived the difference in rank at once--for that matter, I have ever been willing to shake hands with honest men, even those of low degree.

"Good luck and God bless you, sir," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," said I. "Don't fail me," I repeated again.

"I will meet your honour in an hour, yonder," he replied.

With that he put spurs to his horse and galloped away. Now what was I to do? It was evident that it might be difficult to get entrance to Stenwold House, and more difficult to get access to the King. I did not want to play my trump card, Lord Jeffreys' note, until the last moment. Yet, what could I do without it?

If I had time, I might perhaps have managed to scale the walls in some way and effect an entrance by stealth, but I had no time. Too much had been wasted as it was. I judged it to be about eight o'clock. I was morally certain that I would be in good time, but I did not dare to tempt Fortune too long and too much.

I knew that King James would at first try cajolery and persuasion--that was his usual method; not until they failed would he try bribery, being a niggardly monarch, and only in the last instance would he resort to force. I could picture accurately what was about to happen, the course of affairs was clear to me, but to effect anything I must get in the castle, and boldness was my only resource.

It was fortunate for me that the King had chosen to lie at Stenwold House instead of the Castle at Sunderland, across the river. It would have been difficult, if not impossible, to have effected my purpose had he been there. Here it was easier. At most he would be surrounded by but few of his guards; perhaps he would be depending entirely upon Stenwold's retainers for protection. The King was not more bold in his debaucheries and abductions than he was on the field of battle or anywhere else, and it may be that some lingering sense of shame might cause him to conduct his disgraceful amour in secret when he could do it.

I did not stand still in the road making these reflections; on the contrary, they came to me as I galloped swiftly toward the house.

The castle was an old one, built God knows how many centuries before and added to from time to time. The rambling walls were surrounded by a moat now gone dry, which was crossed by a drawbridge never raised. I thundered up to the gate at full speed, flung myself from my horse, knowing full well he was tired and would stand until doomsday, unless driven away, in case I needed him again. And, with the hilt of my sword, I knocked heavily upon the panel of the great door.

A wicket-gate at the side was instantly opened and a man in the uniform of the King's Guards peered through. Light was shed upon us from a flaming cresset hanging over the arch of the main door; by it I saw him plainly and recognised him, too. His name was Harkins; he was a sergeant, an old comrade and friend who had been in my own company of the Royal Guards. The recognition was mutual, but, before he could speak, I interrupted him.

"Sergeant," said I, "you don't know me, you have never seen me before, understand?"

"N-n-no, sir," was the astonished answer.

"Well, these are facts; get them in your mind," I insisted sharply.

"Very good, sir," he answered slowly, beginning to comprehend, "I don't know your honour, I have never seen you before."

"That's it; you will be glad you did not recognise me to-morrow."

The sergeant nodded, he was not a stupid man. and he began to see the reason for my strange course.

"And now," said I, "I am a messenger from my Lord Chief Justice, a private messenger, who must see the King instantly. Lord Jeffreys is now at the point of death, his life's in the greatest danger."

"But, your honour," stammered the sergeant, "it will be impossible to see the King to-night. He's got a woman with him, and Lord Stenwold himself keeps everybody from him."

"That woman is my wife," said I grimly,

"Good God, sir!" exclaimed the sergeant. "What do you want me to do?"

"First of all, admit me; then take me to the Officer of the Guard--who is he? Do I know him?"

"No, sir, it is Leftenant Brayford; he's a new officer, your honour, and he is at play with Ensign Scarlett in his quarters off the guard-room. They are drinking too, sir."

"Good," said I. "That leaves you in virtual command of the guard?"

"It does."

"Go to Mr. Brayford, and tell him that an urgent messenger from Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys desires to see Lord Stenwold on a most serious business, and contrive that you shall be the one to conduct me to him."

"I think that will be easy, sir," said the sergeant, closing the wicket and marching off.

It was fortunate that I had found old Harkins at the gate; the man had been devoted to me and was as faithful as the day was long. Whether his devotion to me would overcome his duty to the King was a thing I could not decide, and I stood there, leaning against the rough stones of the wall, a prey to the intensest agonies of apprehension I had ever experienced, lest I should be denied entrance and stopped helplessly at the very beginning of the undertaking on which so much depended. My relief was correspondingly great when the door opened and honest old Harkins appeared again.

"I am to conduct you to Lord Stenwold, by orders from Leftenant Brayford, who, with Mr. Scarlett, is well in liquor now, sir," said the old soldier.

"This will cost young Brayford his commission, mayhap his head, I fear me," said I under my breath.

"And me mine, as well it may be, Sir Hugh," answered Harkins simply, but making no pause on that account.

"Man," said I earnestly, "I am off for the Low Countries to-night with my wife, if all goes well. There is plenty of soldiering and good pay there. We have served together for many years; come with me."

"That will I gladly if you will take me, Sir Hugh," answered Harkins earnestly, and evidently pleased.

"Good; if you serve me well in my great need this night, I promise you shall never have cause to regret it."

"What do you propose to do, sir, if I may make bold to ask?"

"To take my wife from the King, even if I have to kill him."

"Good God, sir, I hope it won't need to come to that!"

"It is not likely," said I contemptuously. "The King will give way before he dies."

"Yes, sir," answered the old man thoughtfully. "He ain't the bravest King on earth."

"No, but we waste time."

"Very good; come this way, sir."

I muffled my face in my cloak and disguised my walk so that none of the men on guard or lounging in the courtyard, waiting for their tour of duty to begin, would by any chance recognise me. The sergeant made his way quickly across the courtyard and entered the main building, with me hard at his heels. We proceeded down a large hall, up a long flight of steps, and into a vast apartment, at the further end of which and before a door a soldier stood guard. We marched straight up to him.

"Is Lord Stenwold within?" asked the sergeant in a low voice as the man saluted him.

"Yes, sir," was the whispered reply, "and he hath left strict order that no one is to disturb him on any account."

"There is a messenger here from the Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys," returned Harkins quickly, "who must see the King on a matter of life and death. He must have access to Lord Stenwold; when I have turned him over to my lord my responsibility ceases."

"But, sergeant..." began the man, unwilling either to disobey Lord Stenwold's order or too obstinately to resist his sergeant.

"Enough," said old Harkins peremptorily. "You will take your orders from me; I will relieve you at this door and guard it myself; you go to the further end of the hall, station yourself outside yonder door, and keep out anybody and everybody at every hazard till you are relieved."

"Orders are orders," said the soldier resignedly, "but the responsibility will be yours."

"It is mine," assented Harkins.

The man shouldered his halbert and marched down to take the post designated--outside the entrance door, through which we had come, at the far end of the hall. It had all been cleverly thought out by the sergeant. I had not given him credit for such shrewdness. Whatever happened behind that closed door that gave entrance to my Lord Stenwold's retreat would have few auditors and all but one as far away as possible. I thanked him with word and look.

"Now, your honour," said he, "it rests with you. I will keep this door as long as I can; I will give it up to no one, unless the Leftenant or the Ensign should make their rounds. I don't think that likely, but the guards will be relieved at ten and you have but a short time at your disposal."

"I do not want much time," I replied. "No matter what you hear, keep fast by the door, unless I call you. I'll soon be back, successful, or I'll be dead, in which case remember you do not know me."

"Very good, sir, and God help us all."

"Amen," said I.

The hurried conversation had been carried on in low whispers, so as to give no possible alarm. I laid my hand upon the door. Fortunately it was unlocked, and gave under my gentle pressure. What had Stenwold to fear, and why should he lock himself in? All the doors in Stenwold House were secret and noiseless, especially those in my lord's private apartments. This one opened without a sound, and, with a stealthy motion that would not attract attention, I stepped noiselessly into the room.

This apartment was smaller than the other, which had been possibly designed for a refectory in days gone by, and was evidently a library. It looked toward the sea. Heavy hangings draped the windows, a thick carpet lay on the floor. The place was richly furnished and brightly lighted from many candles in sconces and hanging lustres of candelabra. In the centre of the room, by the side of a small table, reclined Lord Stenwold, in somewhat negligent disarray, in a large and comfortable chair. On the table were bottles and glasses and the remains of a meal. Lord Stenwold had evidently just finished his repast. He was engaged in the pleasant act of leaning back in his chair and yawning, stretching out his hands the while. His back was toward the door and nothing had as yet apprised him of my presence. I slipped my sword out of the scabbard as gently as possible. I thought I made no sound, but evidently I did, for he was on his feet in a minute and facing me.

"Richmond!" he gasped, in a low, strained voice, evidently not caring or daring to arouse the King or the house. "Good God!"

His hand reached for his own sword, lying on a stool by his chair. I could have spitted him then and there without risk or trouble, but it was ever against my principles to attack an unarmed man, and I let him seize his weapon. I said in a voice low to match his own, but full of vengeance and hate:

"You vile pander, you have come to the end of your tether now."

Stenwold menaced me with his point and then sneered.

"Why, you fool," he exclaimed, "this is my house! I have but to call out and the King's Guard will be on you in a moment. To-night His Majesty would be private yonder with a lady. I would not have him disturbed. Yield you at once. If the lady be in a melting mood, as I doubt not, sweet remembrances of their pleasant love passages may incline the King to clemency in the morning when you sue."

I needed nothing more, but, if I had, that last mordant insinuation would have been enough. I advanced on him with such fury, forgetful of everything, that he opened his mouth to cry out in his alarm; ere he could do it, I whipped out a small pistol of French make, which I carried ever in my pocket, and held it toward him in my left hand.

"You know," said I, "that I am a dead shot with either hand, and I swear to God that I will put a bullet through your black heart if you make a sound, if I am to be torn to pieces the next second."

"You have an advantage over me," said Stenwold coolly. He had recovered himself and seemed a little ashamed of his lapse. "I have naught but my sword."

To do him justice, the villain was brave enough, I knew; yet, as he said, he was armed only with his sword.

"I don't intend to use the advantage," I replied, "unless you force me to it. If you will agree to stand up and fight like a man and in silence, you shall have your chance."

"Done!" said the man quickly. "My word of honour against yours, that whichever of us dies does it silently."

I laid the pistol on the table on the instant.

"There's my answer. Now, on guard!"

It was no light task I had before me. Stenwold was one of the best fencers in the King's realm; he and I had enjoyed friendly bouts many times, although I never liked him, and more often than not he had bested me, although I was counted something of a master of the white weapon myself. In a scientific engagement he was pretty certain to get the better of me, but this was _guerre à outrance_, and at that sort of a game I felt I would be his master. Neither did I intend to delay matters, nor did I desire to fill the room with noise of ringing steel.

We fell easily into position; he made the first lunge at me, as I knew he would. Contrary to the rules of fencing, I parried it with my left arm, his point grazing through the flesh between my elbow and shoulder, as I expected. Heedless of the pain, with that I closed with him to his great surprise, and, before he could disengage or divine what I would be at, I shortened my sword and drove it home, through his heart.

It was quickly done and soon over. He reeled and threw up his hands; I dropped my own blade to the carpet, which luckily prevented noise; caught him in my arms and eased him down. He was stone dead by the time I laid him on the floor.

I will admit that I felt no remorse whatever. The last taunt about my lady had maddened me. I had killed him with as little compunction as if he had been a rat, which indeed he was. Drawing his blade from my sleeve, I laid it across his breast. Resuming my own sword, I stepped to the piece of tapestry over the door which he had pointed out to me, behind which I knew I should find the King and my wife.

_Chapter_
XVII

_In which Lady Katharine Richmond, at the Request of her Husband, tells how she and Lord Stenwold came to Stenwold House_

At the request of my dear husband, Sir Hugh Richmond, I take up the telling of this strange, yet true, tale for a little space. He did the same for me when the narration of events was in my hand, and I can do no less for him; besides, he is my true and lawful lord, and I owe him duty and I pay him love unbounded, the more especially the latter, because I so basely requited his affections by doubting him. 'Tis true it came from the suggestions of that devil Stenwold, and I can scarce bring myself to believe that I would have entertained a doubt of my lord and master if his, to me, inexplicable conduct, when I was rushed away from him on the bluffs above Cockenzie, had not somehow given colour to the suspicion. He sat his horse so quietly, outwardly so indifferent to my appeals; with King James' his purse hanging on the saddle bow, the price of my dishonour apparently; not even lifting voice, much less drawing blade or striking blow for me. What could I think?

Sir Hugh hath often assured me since that he quite forgives me the suspicion, that he pardons the anger and resentment I harboured against him, that it was thoroughly warranted. Being a woman, albeit according to him a wonder among women and the best wife a soldier ever had--such is his fond flattery!--he saith I could not be expected to know what idea was in a mere stupid man's mind.

And I could not be blamed for not seeing that a husband at large and free to effect my rescue was worth a thousand dead ones who had been cut to pieces by a band of murderous villains before my very eyes. By which he says he would have effected nothing and perhaps have plunged me into deeper grief than was mine when I was dragged away from him.

Besides all this kindness from my lord, I take some little comfort in the knowledge that my father and Master Dunner also were deceived. Still they did not love him as I, and I should have known. Especially as, if I had thought, I would have known that in no way could my lord have had any communication with the King since our meeting. But who that is mad with jealousy and fear can think clearly?

I could with more equanimity bear to see him dead rather than dishonoured, as he seemed to me that afternoon when I was ravished away. My fault, my grievous fault, lay in my failure to realise that no power on earth could dishonour my lord. The mere fact that he suffered himself in some degree to be put in this false position, and to answer nothing, ought not at all to have worried me, who, though I knew him but shortly, yet loved him and his greatness of heart so well.

Sir Hugh says, it is nonsense for me to reproach myself for an entirely natural and justifiable thought, but I do; and we Clanranalds--and, although I am only a woman, I have all the pride of race of the stoutest and best of them--have ever loved honour more than life; and my husband's rank, if less exalted than ours, he being but a simple Baronet while we are Belted Earls, is as old and honourable as any one's. After all, I am sure it was that dastardly Stenwold's persistent insinuations--if I may characterise his broad and open remarks about my husband as insinuations--that made all the trouble.

I was so torn between shame and terror and humiliation and fearful anticipation, as I sat in the boat, that I was not mistress of my mind. I was completely in the power of this creature of King James, and my interview with the King at Durham had shown me that defenceless, penniless, helpless, I had nothing good to expect from His Majesty.

I heard the sailors speak of Sunderland, and I knew, therefore, that the King had moved from Durham, perhaps to get out from under the influence of the good Bishop, who had been my champion and advocate, and, in all probability, his chief adviser now would be Lord Jeffreys. God help the man or woman or child subject to his caprice. I knew very well what the King designed for me, but I was quite resolved what to do on that score. I would die without the least hesitation before the King, or any one else, should possess me.

My husband might have been false to me, he might have taken the King's purse, and perhaps be expecting future pay from the King in exchange for me, but I was his wife still and I was a Clanranald, my noble father's daughter,--we were not of the class from whom were chosen mistresses for kings.

I was that desperate and reckless that, if I had or could come at a weapon in my hand when the time came, I was resolved that I would even kill the King myself. I had heard whispers of his courage, or his lack of it rather, and I would gladly kill him rather than submit to his desire, if there was no other way.

It was these desperate resolutions which enabled me to sustain, with some degree of fortitude, my terrible situation. Indeed, my grief was not so much on the score of the future as it was because of the past. The doubt of my husband's love and honour bade fair to kill me. I could take care of myself, and could throw away my life rather than be clasped in any one's arms that had not the right.

Yet I blame myself, with abiding shame; and I still think had I been given opportunity, had Stenwold kept silent, had I been left alone, I might have recovered my faith and trust in my lord, but my captor was constantly at my elbow with his infamous suggestions. Indeed, he played his part well; I knew what he would be at--he wanted to make it easy for the King--but in that effort he failed absolutely. Not even the King himself could do that.

My resentment grew and developed to such an extent that I thought grimly enough that Stenwold might as well introduce a wild animal into the King's closet as to thrust me in there. But I dissembled my feelings to some extent and took care to give my gaoler no faintest hint of my determination.

I was treated civilly enough on the voyage, although Stenwold's every look was an insult, and I felt my heart grow cold under his evil and suggestive scrutiny; yet I knew that I had naught to fear from him. In his mind I was meat for his betters. I was, therefore, under little or no apprehension while on the sea. It was a small ship and wretchedly uncomfortable, but I was a good sailor and, even if I had been a bad one, I should have had too much in mind to have spared thought to anything else, no matter what I might have suffered.

We made rather a quick passage to Sunderland. Indeed, the time seemed frightfully short to me. Anticipating I knew not what, maturing plans involving all sorts of desperate actions in my hard situation, and trying to explain to myself my husband's lack of conduct, I came at last to doubt, and I almost convinced myself that he had not been a party to the outrage. But that conclusion involved me in worse difficulty than before, for it almost forced me to think of him as a coward, afraid to risk his life for my honour, unwilling to die in my defence--God forgive me, my dear husband, that I so wronged you, for cowardice in any man, and especially in the man I honoured with my affection, seemed to me to be the unpardonable sin.

Oh, I was torn, maddened, during that voyage! Married in the morning, separated at noon-day--what was in store for me?

It was dusk when we dropped anchor off Sunderland, and my Lord Stenwold had the boat got ready. I followed him into it submissively enough; it was either that or be carried; there was no use in my making a profitless struggle then; I would save my energy and strength for the crucial moment. A leaf out of my husband's book that, had I but known it, which now makes my failure to understand him the more blameworthy in my eyes. I shall never forgive myself for it, although he hath assured me many times that he forgot it, as he forgot everything else that had gone before, in the first kiss he pressed upon my lips in Stenwold House that very night after such exciting hours as I never look for nor want to pass again.

We soon traversed the short distance from the anchorage to the castle. I marked, as we clambered up the bank and took the long walk along the moat edge to bring us to the entrance to the house, which fronted away from the water, that the brigantine got under way and moved over to the Sunderland shore, as soon as the boat rejoined her.

Stenwold House lay on the north, or Monkwearmouth side, of the river. I surmised that the King had accepted my Lord Stenwold's proffer of his seat near the village so as to be the more private and secluded in his villainy than in the more spacious castle and fort of Sunderland, across the stream.

They had taken my sword from me; my pistols, of course, had been left behind in the holsters attached to my saddle. I was absolutely unarmed and defenceless; I had not even been allowed the privilege of knife and fork on the voyage, my food having been so prepared for me that I could eat it with a spoon.

I had no money; all we possessed, which was but little, being in my husband's keeping, and I had few jewels--a wedding ring and one other. I did not wish to give up my solitaire diamond, saving it for a last resort, therefore I was without means to bribe; and indeed, in the confines of the small ship, Stenwold kept such close watch upon me that I had no opportunity for speech, even with any one else. Never did I utter such fervent prayers as I did all through that cruise, that God in some way would raise up help for me and enable me to defend that which was dearer to me than life itself--and yet I was young, too, and passionately attached to my husband, and life was sweet.

God was answering my prayers in His own way. Now I thank Him daily for what He did for me and that I enjoy my husband's entire forgiveness and continued love. He blesses me while I write now, who am Sir Hugh's wife, which I find to be so different from what I dreamed it before my marriage. These things do indeed change us more than we wot of, when we give our heart and hand and person into the keeping of some one else. I can scarcely stir without Sir Hugh at my side now; I look to him for everything; his guidance is half my life, his inspiration the rest of it; and I was once the most independent maid in Scotland!

I run on incessantly; there shall be no more in this strain. Suffice it to say that I mounted the great stairs of the castle with a steady step. I was shown through a long hall, then through a smaller room, and then into another, still small but spacious and elegant enough. This room overlooked the water.

Stenwold House was perched on the brow of the cliff, or steep bank, of the Wear. The apartment in which so much took place was in the second story, and perhaps seventy feet from the high-tide line of the river. There was, so far as I could see, but one entrance to the apartment, and that was by the door through which we had come. The room was handsomely furnished, and off to the left through another door, half-opened, I discerned a bed-chamber, at the sight of which I grew cold with fear and shame.

"Will it please you," began my Lord Stenwold, after we two entered the room, and my heart leaped to see that it was empty, "to refresh yourself after your journey?"

"Nothing that you can do or say, or any one else here, will please me in the least degree," I retorted, with what carelessness and firmness I could muster.

"Your ladyship grieves me beyond expression," was his sneering answer. "However, I shall leave the task of pleasing you to an abler and nobler being than my poor self."

"Meaner and baser would be better words, if that were possible," said I.

His face flushed, he glowered at me darkly, he even instinctively touched his sword-hilt.

"Madam, you will live to bless me for this adventure," he said.

"If I live at all, sir," I returned, "I shall curse you to the last day of my life or yours."

"If you would take a fool's advice, madam..."

"A knave's rather," I interposed.

"'Tis much the same thing. We are all of us fools or knaves--some of us both; and the only wise man is he who recognises and admits his knavery or his foolery," he ran on cynically, striving to recover his equanimity.

"You speak capably from your own experience," said I. "I doubt you have met many gentlemen and gentlewomen in your evil life and service, but, if you have, I am sure you have no personal knowledge or experience that would enable you to recognise either."

"Madam, do you know how defenceless you are?" he cried, apparently provoked beyond control by my flings at him. "Do you not know that the King will tire of you as quickly as he fancied you? Do you realise what it would mean to you then, to have a friend in me?"

He approached me threateningly as he spoke.

"I am not so defenceless as you think, Lord Stenwold, and, weak as I am, I have a Friend still who..."

"Your husband?" he interposed sneeringly.

"Almighty God," said I.

"God!"

His jaw dropped; I never met such a look of astonishment as I saw in his face, and then he laughed sardonically.

"God may be all right in His heaven, doubtless," he continued, "but we are on earth, and here the King's word rules."

"'Tis more like hell," I returned.

"And I am devil-in-chief, madam," he said, bowing. "Saving, of course, the King's royal grace and precedence," he added. "But enough of this; His Majesty, I am informed, desires to consult your pleasure in every way. He is kindness itself toward the fair."

"Let him release me then, and restore me to my father."

"In every way but that."

"I have no other pleasure, no other wish, no other will."

"What! not a thought for thy cowardly, treacherous, money-loving husband?"

There he wounded me. I am ashamed to say it, but I thrust my face into my hands and turned away, to hear again that mocking laugh. May God and my husband forgive me, I never can. It was Stenwold who broke the silence that fell between us.

"I shall have something to eat and drink brought to you here. After that, my charge of you is over; I shall deliver you to my royal master."

"May I eat alone?"

"Madam, you may; the taste of your sharp tongue that I have just had hath somewhat impaired my own appetite, I confess. When you are somewhat tamer, I shall visit you again; meanwhile, I wish you joy of your evening, and His Majesty likewise."

There was something ironic in that wish for the King that did give me a certain satisfaction. I would not give much for any pleasure His Majesty was to get out of me. I thought I was quite capable, in default of other means, of choking the King to death with my own hands, if I could muster the strength, and I believed that in the last extremity I could. I was desperate, you see.

_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.