Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded

or, The Murder of the King

“Shut the bolts,” cried the King, as the tramp of heavy-booted men was heard along the distant corridors. The ladies of the chamber hurried to the door, but found bolts and bars alike gone. The King looked round for some weapon of defence, but none could be found. His treacherous foes had laid their plans well, and he was left without a way of escape.

Then the full truth dawned upon him. Sir Robert Groeme, who had sworn to dye his best blade in the King’s blood, was at last about to carry out his threat. He had induced Sir Robert Stewart, the King’s chamberlain, to join him in the conspiracy the success of which through the King’s indifference to warning, seemed to be complete.

There stood the King with folded arms, at his feet the Queen knelt and in her terror entreated him to fly.

Then one of the ladies, Catherine Douglas by name, remembered that beneath the flooring of the room there ran some vaults which might afford a chance of escape, and, quicker than it takes to tell the story, she seized the tongs from the fireplace, and, putting them into the hand of the King, besought him to wrench up the planks and escape by way of the vaults.

The King tore away at the boards until one of them yielded, just as the shoutings of his foes reached the passage leading to the room where he was.

“Can you keep the door just for one moment,” cried the Queen to Catherine Douglas.

Could she keep the door — a weak woman, against the strength of men in mail? It seemed impossible but the danger sharpened her wits, and in her brave desire for the safety of her monarch she thrust her arm into the staples of the door from which the bolts had been torn. Then, grasping the empty staple on the doorpost, she waited with set face for what would follow.

Heavy blows came thundering at the door, but for some intense moments that bolt of woman’s flesh stood the strain. Long enough, in fact, for the ladies of the chamber to put back the plank in the floor and cover it with the rushes which served to carpet the floor.

Then snap! and that human barrier, the arm of Catherine Douglas, gave way, and a brave, true-hearted woman fell fainting to the floor.

“Where’s the King?” cried Groeme and his followers, as they crowded into the apartment. “Tell us where he hides!”

They searched, but failed to find him, and, leaving the apartment, it seemed as though the arm of Catherine Douglas had not been sacrificed in vain.

No nobler sacrifice than that does Scottish history record and how fully did Catherine Douglas prove her devotion to the King.

Foes — bitter foes — are seeking your destruction. If left to yourself you are without a way of escape, and without defence. Is there anyone to deliver you?

Yes, thank God, there is! One whose love was great enough to lead Him to stand between us and the foe, and He has given His life to save us.

Will His great sacrifice be in vain? Ah! no; for all who trust in Him are put for ever out of the reach of the foes. By dying He destroyed him that had the power of death — that is, the devil that He might deliver those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.

 

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But what of the King? He might have escaped had it not been for one sad thing. There was a hole in the wall of the vault leading to the open-air, but he had had it filled up only three days before, because, when playing tennis, the balls rolled through it and were lost. Thus his only way of escape was cut off. How he must have blamed the folly that led him, for such a trifle, to close the only way of escape.

But King James did not know the straits into which he would be brought, or he would never have closed the hole in the wall for the sake of a few tennis balls.

With you it is different. You are warned of your danger, and as plainly as possible. God has set forth Christ Jesus as the only way of escape; the only door of salvation. Are you putting anything between your soul and Him? Many are blocking their way to life by the most empty trifles. Some allow the applause of men, the prizes of the world, their friends, their pleasures, their lusts, to stand between them and the way of blessing. May such folly be far removed from you, my reader!

Those who sought the life of the King rushed to other parts of the monastery in search of him and he, hearing their footsteps die away in the distance, thought himself safe, and commanded the women to help him from the vault. While they were doing so his foes returned, and the dark tragedy closed in his death. He might have been saved if only he had heeded the timely warning which, alas! he refused to listen to.

May you, my reader, never have to say with bitter remorse, when for ever beyond the reach of mercy, “Oh, if I had only heeded the warning given me!”