Accepting this as dismissal, those there congregated withdrew, save
only Sir David Lyndsay, the king having made a sign for him to
remain. "Well, Davie," he said, when they were alone, "what do you
think of it all?"

"To tell truth, your majesty," answered the poet, "it's a knotty
problem, not to be solved by rhyming brain. When the first spokesman
finished I was entirely of his opinion, but, after that, the Earl of
Bothwell's plea seemed equally weighty, and between the two I don't
know what to think."

"That is the disadvantage of an unbiased mind, Davie. Now, with good,
strong prejudices, one side or the other, the way would be clear, and
yet I despise a man who doesn't know his own mind."

"Scott and Cockburn seemed to know their minds very well," ventured
the poet, with a smile.

"Yes, and if one or two more of them had spoken as decidedly, I would
have been off to the Border to-night at the head of my troops. It is a
weakness of mine, but I can't put up with a threat very well."

"Kings are rarely called upon to thole a threat," said Sir David, with
a laugh.

"I'm not so sure of that, Davie. Kings have to thole many things if
they are to rule justly. Now, Davie, if you'll but tell me just what
to do, it will be a great help, for then I can take the opposite
direction with confidence."

But the poet shook his head.

"I cannot tell you," he said. "There seems much to be said for both
sides."

"Then, Davie, send down to the town for the cobbler; send for
Flemming, he is a common-sense, canny body; he shall be the Solomon of
the occasion. That broad-faced hammer of his seems to rap out wisdom
as well as drive pegs. Bring him up with you, and we'll place the case
before him."

As the rhymster left the room, Sir Donald Sinclair came clanking in,
seemingly in something of a hurry.

"Was it your majesty's pleasure," began Sir Donald, "to have detained
Adam Scott and Cockburn?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because they have mounted their horses and are off to the Border as
fast as two good steeds can carry them."

"And where are Bothwell, Home, and Maxwell, and the Lairds of
Fairniherst, Johnston and Buccleuch?"

"They are all closeted in the Earl of Bothwell's room, your majesty.
Shall I take any action regarding them?"

"Oh no; do not meddle with them. You heard the opinions given a while
since, Donald? What conclusion did you arrive at?"

"I am scarcely an impartial judge, your majesty. A soldier