"And thou hast come to bid me welcome, Master Roland?"
"Yes, sire," I replied, scarce daring to look him in the face.
"Well, rise; thou hast knelt long enough. And what favour dost thou ask?"
I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and saw a quizzical look upon his face. Nay, it was more than quizzical. He seemed, as I thought, suspicious of my motives in coming, although I knew not why.
I had it on my tongue to tell him how my father had been impoverished by the Puritans, but I only said—
"Nothing, your Majesty."
"Nothing? Then is thy request easily granted. Fancy, General Monk: I have put it in the way of this youth to ask me a favour, and yet he hath demanded nothing. Will this be an augury of my reign?"
"I trust so, your Majesty," replied Monk, and I thought I saw greed in his eyes. "And yet many, although they ask not favour at your hands, will seek justice," continued Monk boldly.
"Ah, how is that? Ay, I remember now. It hath been told me that your life hath been in danger. That a fanatical Puritan woman, a daughter of John Leslie, Constance by name, and wife of Sir Charles Denman, of painful memory, sought your life when you took steps to ensure my coming back to mine own. We must inquire into into this. She must be taken prisoner and put to death."
"She hath already been taken prisoner."