God's
cause."

"Since when have you found a politic judgment in raw soldiers? Consider,
my friend. If you set the King on his trial it can have but the one end.
You have no written law by which to judge him, so your canon will be
your view of the public weal, against which he has most grievously
offended. It is conceded your verdict must be guilty and your sentence
death. Once put him on trial and you unloose a great stone in a
hill-side which will gather speed with every yard it journeys. You will
put your King to death, and in whose name?"

Cromwell raised his head which he had sunk between his hands. "In the
name of the Commons of Parliament and all the good people of England."

"Folly, man. Your Commons are a disconsidered rump of which already you
have made a laughingstock. As for your good people of England, you know
well that ten out of any dozen are against you. The deed will be done in
your own name and that of the hoteads of the Army. 'Twill be an act of
war. Think you that by making an end of the King you will end the Kings
party? Nay, you will give it a martyr. You will create for every woman
in England a new saint. You will outrage all sober folk that love order
and at the very moment when you seek to lay down the sword you make it
the sole arbitrament. Whatsay you to that?"

"There is no need to speak of his death. What if the Court depose him
only?"

"You deceive yourself. Once put him on trial and you must go through
with it to the end. A deposed king will be like a keg of gunpowder set
by your hearth. You cannot hide him so that he ceases to be a peril. You
cannot bind him to terms."

"That is naked truth," said Cromwell grimly. "The man is filled with a
devil of pride. When Denbigh and the other lords went to him he shut
the door in their face. I will have no more of ruining hypocritical
agreements. If God's poor people are to be secure we must draw his fangs
and destroy his power for ill. But how to do it?" And he made a gesture
of despair.

"A way must be found. And let it not be that easy way which will most
utterly defeat your honest purpose. The knots of the State are to be
unravelled, not cut with the sword."

Cromwell smiled sadly, and his long face had for the moment a curious
look of a puzzled child.

"I believe you to be a godly man, friend Nicholas. But I fear your soul
is much overlaid with worldlythings, and you lean too much on frail
understanding. I, too, am without clearness