said than done. When you once shut a spring door on yourself, it isn’t by saying ‘I will’ that you get out. You’ll not have forgotten the first night we met, when you jumped down on my back from the wall of the Grey Friars’ Church?”
“I remember it very distinctly, but which was the more surprised, you or I, I have never yet been able to settle. I know I was very much taken aback.”
“Not so much as I,” interrupted the cobbler dryly, “when you came plump on my shoulders.”
“I was going to say,” went on Ballengeich, “that I’m afraid my explanation about taking a short cut was rather incoherent.”
“Oh, no more than mine, that I was there to catch a thief. It was none of my business to learn why you were in the kirkyard.”
“By the way, did you ever hear any more of the thief you were after?”
“That’s just the point I am coming to. The man we were after was his youthful majesty, James the Fifth, of Scotland.”
“What, the king!” exclaimed the amazed laird.
“Just him, and no other,” replied the cobbler, “and very glad I am that the ploy miscarried, although I fear it’s to come on again.”
“I never heard the like of this!”
“You may well say that. You see it is known that the king in disguise visits a certain house, for what purpose his majesty will be able to tell you better than I. He goes unattended and secretly, and this gives us our chance.”
“But what in the name of the god of fools whoever he happens to be, would you do with Jamie once you got him?”
“’Deed there’s many things that might be mended in this country, as you very well know, and the king can mend them if he likes, with a word. Now rather than have his throat cut, our leader thinks he will agree to reasonable reform.”
“And supposing he doesn’t agree, are you going to cut his throat?”
“I don’t know what would happen if he proved stubborn. The moderate section is just for locking him by somewhere until he listens to wisdom.”
“And it is in your mind that my house should become a prison for the king?”
“It seems to me worth considering.”
“There seems to me very little worth considering in the matter. It is a mad scheme. Supposing the king promised under compulsion, what would be his first action the moment he returned to Stirling Castle? He would scour the country for you, and your heads would come off one by one like buttons from an old coat.”
“That’s what I said. ‘Trust the word of a Stuart,’ says I, ‘it’s pure nonsense!’”
“Oh I’m not sure but the word of a Stuart is as good as the word of any other man,” replied Ballengeich with a ring of anger in his voice, at which the cobbler looked up surprised.
“You’re not such an enemy of the king as you let on at first,” commented the mender of shoes. “I doubt if I should have told you all this.”
“Have no fear. I can pledge you that my word is as good as a Stuart’s at least.”
“I hope it’s a good deal better.”
“Your plan is not only useless, but dangerous, my friend. I told you I would give you my advice, and now you have it. Do you think James is a lad that you can tie to your bench stool here, lock your door, and expect to find him when you came back? You must remember that James has been in captivity before, when the Earl of Angus thought he had him secure in the stronghold of Falkland, and yet, Jamie, who was then but a lad of sixteen, managed to escape. Man Flemming, I must tell you about that some day.”
“Tell me about what?” inquired the shoemaker.
“Oh well, it may not be true after all,” said young Ballengeich in confusion, “but a friend of mine was gardener at Falkland and knew the whole story about James’s escape. Never mind that; my advice to you is to shake hands with all such schemes, and turn your back on them.”
“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
