Unicorn Rampant by Nigel Tranter Page B

together. Was not that an excellent arrangement?
    His hearers may have seemed only moderately enthusiastic.
    Soon they were hearing the clink and thud of picks and hammers, and rounding a bend there was light ahead. Here, illuminated by three lamps, was a scene which might have come out of Dante's Inferno, with the damned working out their grim destiny. Two men, entirely unclothed, hacked and battered at the coal-face, whilst two others crouched, heads down, recovering nearby. Three half-naked women stooped behind, scooping the hewn coal back and into baskets, with wooden shovels and bare hands; and a group of children waited for the filled baskets, all panting in the heat.
    The visitors considered this scene for a while, unspeaking. Then James said, "Here, I say, is work for felons, skellums and gaol-limmers, no' for honest subjects o' mine. Man Bruce, you sell dear-won coals!"
    Astonished, Sir George protested. "Why, Sire, they are paid good siller. All are glad of the work. As I say, all the families can work together. None go hungry."
    "Aye. Let us be out o' here. I mislike it."
    Crestfallen, Bruce led the way back.
    Up at the main gallery again, James was for turning left-handed whence they had come. But their host led them to the right, saying that there was still something to see.
    They went on for a considerable distance further, passing numerous trolleys and entries, and James, who was no walker, was soon complaining, with Bruce assuring him that they would have further to go if they turned back. The monarch was becoming disenchanted.
    In the event, he hailed another hoist almost with relief— only almost, because this one was more than twice as large as the first and so capable of being twice as dangerous. As they waited, the platform came down, to disgorge two women and an empty trolley—James declaring that they were the same pair they had first encountered, he recognised them by their mammilla he added, their faces being no more distinguishable than were black Moors.
    Gingerly entrusting himself to this platform, which was of a size to take the entire company, the King remarked on the lowering temperature as they rose, contriving a parable out of this, in Latin, for the edification of at least the Scots present—only English priests and siklike apparently being taught Latin, he revealed.
    This enlightenment ended abruptly, as they emerged into daylight, bright daylight, indeed sunlight, and sunlight reflected on water. James gasped, choked, and made a grab at John Stewart.
    "Treason! Treason!" he yelled. "Wae's me—all's undone! Treason! The sea—the fell sea!"
    Sure enough, they had come up a shaft, extended with notable skill to rise from the bed of the estuary and to finish as a sort of isolated jetty or wharf, almost a mile out from the shore. The King—whose dread of the sea probably dated from his return, with his bride, from Denmark, when a storm off North Berwick and the Bass Rock, engineered by witches, had much distressed him—was appalled, instantly terror-stricken, imploring the aid of Heaven, the saints and all true and honest men, clinging to John. In vain Sir George explained that this was a device for loading coal directly on to ships, without them having to crowd the limited space of the harbour; that it was perfectly safe and in use every day. The monarch was convinced that it was all a dastardly plot. Torn between a desire to hurry back whence they had come and escape all this terrifying water, and fear of the long, black passage below to be walked, he wailed and clutched and refused to be reassured.
    The Duke pointed out that there was a handsome pinnace moored to the timbers directly below, but James cried that it was to be approached only by a more deplorable ladder down which he would by no means descend. Bruce was at a loss, declaring that this was the only way down and that there were only a dozen or so rungs anyway; but Majesty would have none of it. He was not a Barbary ape, he