"My lord—my lord!" exclaimed Lethington and the politic Moray together, on seeing that the queen's eyes were flashing through their tears.
"He speaketh like a stout man and true," said old Lord Lindesay, starting up on the opposite side of the table, and leaning on his long and well-rusted Flemish sword. "He sayeth the truth, quhilk I will maintain against all gainsayers with this gude whinger, body for body, on foot or on horseback. For what, my lords, was the mumming of the mass but ane superstition devisit of auld by the devil, and his godson, the Bishop of Rome—callit the Paip; and I swear, and avow, and aver, that no man should, or shall, be permitted to uphold him or them, in thought, or word, or deed, from this time forward, within the realm and isles of Scotland, under pain of proscription, banishment, barratrie—yea, and death!"
"Stout Lindesay, thou sayest well!" responded Glencairn; "and a bright day was it for Scotland, when the bellygods and shavelings of Rome lay grovelling in the dust of their gilded altars and painted blasphemies."
"Gramercy! my lords," said Mary, sarcastically. "I think that few men should be more merciful to our fallen church than you. Fie! Lord Lindsay: is not thy daughter Margaret wedded to David Beatoun of Creich, a son of the great cardinal who was the very emperor of those Roman bellygods; while thou, my Lord Glencairn, brookest all the broad lands and rich livings, chapelries and altarages, of the noble Abbey of Kilwinning?"
Lindesay's swarthy cheek glowed brick-red, and Glencairn's brow was darkened by a deeper frown.
"Ah, ma bonne!" said Mary, turning to her sister, the Countess of Argyle, and whispering something in French, at which they both laughed; while the two pillars of the Reformation, who knew as much of French as they did of Choctaw or Cherokee, exchanged mutual glances expressive of unutterable ferocity. Moray and Morton also exchanged two of those deep smiles which their faces always assumed when any thing like a storm was brewing at the council board.
"My lords," said the poor Queen, in her most persuasive voice, "let us again return to the matter in debate, which is of more importance than framing acts for the further oppression of a fallen church, the prosecution of sorcerers, or enforcing sombre attire and scanty fere upon our poor lieges."
"Matter, madam!" growled Lindesay.
"I mean the bearing of the royal banner to the borders. Lord Lindesay, what sayest thou to assume the baton?"
"I thank your Majesty, but may the devil break my bones gif I will."