“Aweel,” he replied, “an’ the enterprise is so safe and lawful show me the warrant for it, my lords.” The Master of Stair turned impatiently in his chair.
“I will be your warrant, my lord,” he said. “I am the first minister in Scotland. I take the responsibility.”
“Ay?” answered Argyll. “But you are not so high, Sir John, that you cannot fall. And I’ll no’ mix in this without other safeguard.”
“What?” demanded the Master haughtily.
“The King’s command.”
“The King’s command is in his proclamation that all clans not taking the oaths are to be dealt with by the law,” answered the Master.
“Aweel,” said Argyll shrewdly, “then it should be no trouble to ye, Sir John, to obtain a warrant from His Majesty for the destruction o’ the Macdonalds o’ Glencoe.”
“It is not needful,” frowned Sir John.
But the Viscount leaned forward across the table.
“I think the King’s consent is needful,” he said; he glanced at Breadalbane, whose light eyes rested very disdainfully on his cousin. “What do you think, my lord?”