“Pardon me, General. I took service for my King, and you will be good enough to remember that Charles is King of Scotland, even if it pleases you to forget that he is King of England, and that he will be, till he dies, your King as well as mine.”
“He is King of Oxford solely.”
“Very well. Let me tell you, you’ll find that same Oxford a very hard nut to crack if you attempt to take it by assault. I went carefully around the fortifications, and would seek no better job than to hold it against you and your whole army. There would be many a cropped head low before you got mine in your clutches,” and William passed his hand sympathetically over his denuded crown, as had become a custom with him. His questioner bent forward with more of eagerness than he had hitherto shown, all thought of the indictment he was heaping up seeming to pass from his mind.
“Where is its weakest spot?” he said, as one expert might seek counsel from another who had personal experience of the subject.
“That is the beauty of it. There is no weakest spot.”
“Is there not? We shall never need to take it by assault, but if that were thought best, it might be attacked from the south.”
Armstrong raised his eyes to the ceiling and meditated for a moment.
“I think you’re right,” he said, “but it would cost a’wheen o’ men.”
“Yes; better men than are within its walls, and they shall not be sacrificed. I can wait, and the King cannot. You delivered the King’s message to Traquair?”
“Yes. That’s what I went for.”