“Oh ay,” said Willie, absently staring at the laundresses, who were going into the castle to collect the soiled linen which they would take away and bring back clean.
March had come and the first signs of spring were on the countryside. The winds were still strong, but now and again they would drop, and when the sun shone there was real warmth in the air.
One day Willie was helping to unload food from a boat which was moored on the shore, and his industry pleased those he was helping. When the unloading was done he leaped into the boat and sat there waiting.
“Coming back with us, young Willie?” asked one of the boatmen.
“Oh ay . . . ” answered Willie nonchalantly.
“Come on then, lads, back to Kinross.”
Willie whistled as the boat carried him across the water. When it touched ground he jumped out, saluted the boatmen and ran off.
He skirted the town, now and then breaking into a run, sometimes leaping in a rush of high spirits. When he came to a small hillock he stood for a few moments and looked about him. He could see the roofs of the Kinross houses and a quarter of a mile or so away the woods. Assuring himself that no one was following him he made quickly for these woods and was soon on the narrow path which led through them.
He began to whistle, and after a few minutes his whistle was answered.
He stood still waiting, listening. Then he heard the rustle of twigs; George was coming through the trees.
“I thought you were never coming,” said George.
“It took so long to unload the boat.”
“Are you sure no one followed you?”
Willie looked exasperated. “Who d’ye think I am, Geordie Douglas?”
George smiled. Willie was a first-class agent, because not only was he alert and nimble but it was scarcely likely that anyone would suspect him.
“Let’s sit down . . . away from the path . . . here where the trees are thickest. Then we shall hear anyone approaching. And speak low. Voices carry.”
“Ye dinna need to tell me that!”
“No, Willie, but we have to be very careful. If the plan fails how can we say what they might do to her?”
“Oh ay,” Willie agreed.
When they were seated George said: “Listen carefully; we are going to send a large box to the Queen, purporting to come from Melville. We will load it with some heavy substances—perhaps stones—and we shall say it contains articles and documents for the Queen. You must tell her that this box is to arrive shortly, and when it comes she is to take out the contents and hide them, and after a few days we must ask for the box to be returned to Melville. When the box is taken out of the castle, she will be in it.”
Willie stared at George and his light eyes suddenly crinkled with amusement. Willie held his sides and began to shake, giving a display of uncontrollable mirth.
“What is it?” said George impatiently.
“It’s just that you make me laugh, Geordie Douglas.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It was one laughing matter when you planned escape by boat and then go sniffing around till Drysdale says: ‘Now why would wee Georgie be taking such interest in the boat?’ And this box is another.”
“It is not for you to laugh at your elders . . . and betters, Willie.”
“Oh ay,” said Willie mockingly disconsolate.
“All you have to do is to tell the Queen our intentions. I cannot say when the box will arrive, but you must come and tell me when it is to be sent back. Then I shall be ready for her . . . and I shall not be alone. We shall have horses waiting for her.”
Willie sat silently nodding. “You understand?” said George impatiently.
“Oh ay,” repeated Willie. “I understand. The box goes in . . . and Lady Douglas and Sir William watch it unloaded. ‘What lovely stones!’ cries my lady. ‘What is the Queen’s new pastime to be? Throwing stones from the keep windows on the sentinels?’”
“We have to arrange that the box arrives when Sir William is not there.”
“If Sir William is not there, someone else will be. Hoch, man, dinna ye know that our Queen is a prisoner and that everything that goes into her apartments is watched and ferreted over. Talk sense, Geordie Douglas. You wouldna get farther than the castle courtyard before they’d see through your game with boxes. Nay, Geordie Douglas, think again.”
George was silent. It was true that he had put forward one or two grandiose schemes which Lords Seton and Semphill had thought impracticable. The trouble with George was that he saw himself as a knight who was ready to die for his Queen; he would have preferred to go boldly to the castle and fight his way through to her. Lord Seton had said that it was subterfuge which was needed. Those who could best help the Queen would be crafty spies rather than bold knights.
And now even Willie was scorning his latest plan, and George had to admit that there was a great deal in what the boy said.
“I thought of something,” said Willie. “’Tis a better plan than yours, because it could work. It was when I watched the laundresses bringing out the dirty linen that I thought of it. You know the shawls they wear . . . some of them . . . over the head and gripped round the shoulders . . . and they carry the bundles of linen on one shoulder. Well, I thought to myself, Who counts them that goes in? Is it four or five? Who’d know if six came out?”
“What’s this?” cried George.
“Your Queen would have to wear a laundress’s shawl; she’d have to carry her bundle. I reckon Geordie Douglas would think that was summat a Queen shouldna do . . . even if it meant she got her freedom by doing it.”
George’s eyes began to sparkle. Willie’s scheme was so simple. And yet Lord Seton had said that they needed a plan that was too simple to be suspected.
He gripped Willie’s arm. “There may be something in this.”
“May be, George Douglas? I tell you there is summat in it all right.”
“When do the laundresses come?” George asked.
“This day week.”
“We’ll arrange that two whom we can trust shall be with them. Willie, you’re a bright boy.”
“Thank ye, George Douglas.”
“I am going to make plans to carry out your idea. You go back and, at the first opportunity, tell the Queen what we hope to do. Be here the day after tomorrow and I will give you instructions. The Queen shall walk out of the castle with the laundresses. Now Willie . . . go. And for the love of God take care.”
“Oh ay,” said Willie; and whistling shrilly he went to the shores of the lake where he waited for a boat that was going to the castle to carry him back.
“OH, SETON,” whispered the Queen. “This could be successful. If I escape I shall send for you as soon as possible.”
“Do not think of that now,” said Seton; “think only of the part you must play. Do not speak, whatever happens. It must succeed, for it will all be over in fifteen minutes. Out of the castle . . . into the boat . . . and then across to the mainland. There your friends will be waiting for you with horses. You will always be grateful to these Douglas boys.”
“Give me the shawl. There! Is that right? How do I look?”
“So tall, so regal. Could you stoop a little? The bundle you carry will help. Let me pull the shawl forward so that your face is hidden. Like that . . . no one would guess.”
The two laundresses came to the door of the apartment then.
“The bundles are ready,” said Seton.
The two women came in. They were not the usual laundresses but two who had taken the place of those whose custom it was to come to the castle. They looked at the tall shawled figure with some apprehension.
“She will walk between you when you go out,” said Seton. “Go straight down through the courtyard to the boat, and do not speak to her, yet try not to give the impression that she is any different from the rest of you.”