“No. That would be advertising the importance of my journey. If I can get through at all, it must be by dawnering along as a cannie drover body, anxious to buy up cattle and turn an honest penny by selling them to those who want them worse than I do; a perfectly legitimate trade even during these exciting times. They all know the desire of a humble Scotsman to make a little money, though the Heavens and Kings be falling.”
“That’s an admirable idea, and you know the country well?”
“No one better. Indeed I’ll trade my way to the very gates of Oxford if time is not too great an object with you.”
“Time is an object, Armstrong, but you will have to do the best you can, and we shall await your return with what patience we may. You will tackle the job then?”
“It’s just the kind of splore I like. Can you allow me three weeks or a month?”
“If you ’re back inside of a month, Will, you ’ll have done what I believe no other man in all Scotland could do. Well, that’s settled then.”
“Oh, bide a wee, bide a wee,” cautioned Henderson, who during this colloquy had been visibly fuming under the contemptuous reference Armstrong had uttered regarding him. “This man may be brave enough, but I doubt his judgment. He may have all the wisdom he traitorously denies to the King, but it’s by no means proven.”
“I did not deny wisdom to the King, Mr. Pulpiteer. I said Solomon was the wisest of men, except that he was a little daft on the marrying, and in that I’m wiser than he, for whether Cromwell catch me or no, none of the lassies have caught me yet.”
“You are ribald,” shouted the minister angrily, “and would add blasphemy to disloyalty. I was speaking of King Charles.”
“And I was speaking of King Solomon, and speaking in a lower tone of voice as well. But while we are discussing wisdom, why are you all met here in this bothy, instead of in your own castle, Traquair? This innkeeper is a treacherous, canting dog. I know him of old.”