We must now accompany George Brooke on his way, not, indeed, stopping to trace all his proceedings, but merely stating that the time thrown away in consequence of his meeting with Ida Mara, and the loss of his horse's shoe, was not altogether less than five hours. At the end of that period, however, he once more found himself riding rapidly on towards London, and, as is usual in such cases, cursing the folly which induced him to forget great and important objects in pursuit of petty gratifications.
By six o'clock his horse was quite knocked up; and leaving it at an inn to be sent after him, he procured another, with which, at the end of about four hours more, he approached the metropolis. His thoughts had been in a wild and hurried state, and he had more than once asked himself, "With whom shall I take counsel? If Clarke be come back from Brussels," he continued, in the same train of thought, "he would be the man, but of that I am not sure.--Cobham is such a fool, I cannot trust to him; and Raleigh's coldness in the business has shaken his constancy. It must be with Markham; he is bold and decided, though a slippery knave, I fear.--We can go on to Cobham House afterwards. Ho boy!" he continued, speaking to the post-boy who rode with him to take back the horse, "which is the shortest cut to the village of Chelsea?"
"Down to the right, sir," replied the man; "the first turning, and then the second to the left."
George Brooke accordingly rode on, and in a few minutes caught a glimpse of the Thames, shining in the rising moon.
"Ay, now I know my way," he said, and rode straight on to the gates of an old brick house, with a garden and orchard, looking towards the river on one side, and on the other towards the road.
Ringing the great bell at the door, with his usual impetuous haste, George Brooke speedily brought a porter to answer his summons, and asked eagerly if Sir Griffin Markham were within.
"He is somewhat sick," replied the man, "and cannot see any one."
"Nay, were he sick to the death, I must see him," cried George Brooke; "methinks, however, Master Porter, that there is somewhat loud talking in the place for a sick man's house. Go, tell Sir Griffin that Master George Brooke wishes to see him, and must too, immediately."
"Oh, sir, if you be Master Brooke, you may come in," said the man; and the young gentleman sprang to the ground, giving the horse to the post-boy, and bidding him wait. Then following the porter across an old stone hall, he was admitted to a room on the other side, which he found occupied by some twelve or fourteen persons, bearing the appearance of gentlemen. A large table was in the midst, round which some were sitting, and some were standing, while one or two were looking out of the windows upon the silver Thames, as it glided along in the moonlight, calm and tranquil, the image of a bright and a peaceful life, offering a strange contrast to all the scenes of contention and turbulence that daily take place on its banks. Seated close together, so that they could whisper to each other from time to time, were two Romish priests, named Watson and Clarke; and at the head of the table, not far from them, with his cheek resting on his hand, was the master of the house, whom the reader, if he could have seen him, would instantly have recognised as no other than the Baron de Mardyke. The moment the name of George Brooke was announced by the porter, Father Clarke started up, and advancing towards him, took his hand, whispering rapidly at the same time, "Not a word of our plans, till you hear what is going on."
"Let it go off then as quickly as possible," answered George Brooke, in the same tone, "for I have intelligence of deep importance, affecting our lives."
Thus saying, he advanced into the room, shaking hands with one or two persons whom he knew, and being welcomed by Sir Griffin Markham with great cordiality.
"We are here, my dear Brooke," said Sir Griffin, aloud, after a significant nod from the priest, "to discuss a petition to be presented to the King for toleration in our religion, and equal privileges with our fellow-subjects. We have just determined to set forth our claims in the strongest possible language, to represent the injustice that we have suffered, and to point out that, at least, two millions of Englishmen are deprived of religious liberty, and straitened in their conscience. Now, I know, that although your family have unhappily given in to what we consider heresy, yet you are ready and willing to join in obtaining for us that toleration which you would fight for in your own case were it needful; and we shall be glad of the signature of any Protestant gentlemen, who regard liberty of conscience as the right of all men."
George Brooke was too shrewd not to smile at the assurance with which zealous Roman Catholics, notwithstanding their utter intolerance of every religion but their own, can assert the great principle of that liberty of conscience which they deny to others, when they themselves may benefit by it; but as he was very indifferent to religion of any kind, he was quite ready to support the views of Sir Griffin Markham, as he would have supported those of a puritan, for any object he had in view.
"I perfectly agree with you, my good friend," he replied, "as to religious toleration, and am quite ready to sign the paper, though, remember, I am not quite so heretically disposed as you imagine, and am quite ready to receive instruction in the Catholic faith on the first convenient opportunity."
An exclamation of satisfaction broke from several of the gentlemen around; and George Brooke, eager to have the business over as soon as possible, took a pen and dipped it in the ink, saying, "Where shall I sign?"
But one or two of the more bigoted of the party exclaimed, "Stay, stay, there are some changes to be made;" and then a discussion commenced regarding several paragraphs in the petition, some wishing them stronger and more violent, others more moderate and mild.
George Brooke sat upon thorns; minute after minute passed by in vain and often frivolous disquisitions, while he knew that the avenging sword was suspended over his head but by a hair. The two priests endeavoured to cut short the dispute, but without success. What was too strong for one party, was too weak for the other; and at length Lord Cobham's brother whispered to the master of the house, "On my life, Markham, if you do not put a stop to this, I must ride on to town. The petition is all nonsense, and can never be presented; and I have life and death under my doublet."
"I know it can never be presented," said the shrewd knight, in the same low tone; "but it has been agreed to get the petition drawn up, and signed by everybody that we can, throughout the realm, as a sort of muster-roll, that we may know those whom we can call upon in case of need. That is why it is necessary to make it as violent as possible: but what do you mean by having life and death under your doublet?"
"I mean," replied George Brooke, still in a whisper, "that your head and mine, and some dozen others, may depend upon my speaking to you, without all your Popish rabble, ere five minutes be over. I do not mind the two priests, they are men of sense, and had better hear what I have to say; but our safety depends upon your getting rid of these long-tongued gentry as fast as possible."
Markham mused for a minute or two, and then rose, saying, "Gentlemen, as there seems a good deal of difference of opinion to-night, and as Father Watson here has heard all your views, I should propose that he make a fresh draught of the petition, and have it ready against to-morrow night at nine. I dare say he can embody all your ideas; and, for my part, whatsoever so reverend and devout a priest thinks fit for the occasion, I am ready to sign."
"So am I," cried one; "and so are we all, I dare say; but--" and, as usual on such occasions, there were half-a-dozen "buts" to be spoken and commented upon, before it was finally settled that Sir Griffin Markham's proposal should be agreed to, and the company had left the house.
At length, however, the room was cleared, the door closed, and with looks in which the full anxiety of their hearts was for the first time fully displayed, the knight and the two priests surrounded George Brooke, and eagerly inquired what was the intelligence he had to communicate. In reply, he informed them that his brother, Lord Cobham, had ventured to write to the Lady Arabella Stuart, giving her intimation of the plans formed for raising her to the throne, and requiring her consent to the conditions proposed by Count Aremberg. He told them also, that as soon as he had heard of this rash step, he had set off post haste to see the lady himself, and to ascertain her feelings, in order to act immediately as the circumstances might require. He then gave an account of the reception he had met with, and ended by saying, "Now, gentlemen, you know the whole affair; what is your judgment regarding it?"
"That we are ruined," replied Clarke.
"That she will communicate the whole to the King," said Sir Griffin Markham; "she did so before regarding some overtures I made to her while James was on his way to Scotland. Luckily, she neither knew me nor Watson, who was with me; and I took the name of the Baron de Mardyke, which put them upon the wrong scent, for Mardyke, who was over just at the time, quitted England for Nieuport the day after I saw her. Slingsby and Winter, who were sent to watch her messenger, were caught; but Slingsby was hanged for endeavouring to filch the letter, and died silent, knowing that it would do him no good, but rather harm, to confess his object. Winter, as you all know, was thrown into prison as a Catholic priest, but no other charge was made against him. I fear this is a worse affair."
"Well--now, having heard your opinions," said George Brooke, "I will tell you mine. It is that this sweet lady sent Cobham's letter to the King as soon as ever she received it, some of James's people were with her when even I was there, doubtless sent over to inquire farther. We shall hear more of it ere long; and the only question is, have we any chance of success by going forward, striking a bold stroke at once, hurrying down with what men we can raise, this very night, to Wilton, seizing James's person, Cecil's, Pembroke's, the Howards', and conveying them all prisoners to the Tower? If you judge so, I am ready to draw the sword and throw away the scabbard. I am even willing to put all the Scotch vermin to death, if need should be.--It is timidity alone that ruins great enterprises. If not, the sooner we begin our travels the better, for we shall be much improved by a continental tour."
"I am for flight," cried Watson; "if the matter have gone as far as you think, depend upon it all precautions are already taken at the Court."
"So say I!" exclaimed Clarke; "the case is hopeless."
"I do not know," said Sir Griffin Markham, thoughtfully; and laying his finger on his forehead, he paused for a moment or two in consideration. Ere his reflections came to an end, however, there was a gentle ring at the great bell, and all the conspirators started and looked towards the door. The next instant there was a sound of scuffling, and voices speaking in the hall. George Brooke threw up the window, and jumped out into the garden upon the banks of the Thames; but he had not taken two steps when his collar was seized on either side, and he was thrown down upon the turf.
"In the King's name!" said a loud voice; and without making the slightest resistance, he was led back into the house.
He there found the two priests and Sir Griffin Markham in the hands of the officers, with terror and dismay in the countenances of all. Brooke, however, had by this time recovered from his first consternation and surprise, and turning to one of the men who held him, he said, "May I request, sir, if not inconvenient to you, that you would take your hand from my collar? It is, as you will remark, a Spanish cut, delicately laced, ingenious collar,--most likely to suffer from rough fingers. I would not for the world put you to any inconvenience, but still it would be more convenient to me to have my throat at my own command."
"May it long be so, sir," said the man, bluffly, taking off his hand: "I have some doubts of its being so, though."
"I am sorry to hear that," replied George Brooke; "it is a part of my property which, being the great channel of communication between the custom-house and the receiver-general, I shall be sorry to see stopped or cut off."
"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed the sergeant, who had some turn for the dry and far-fetched jests of the day; "I suppose you mean your stomach and your mouth--God send that they may not have a long separation. However, I must do my duty, and carry you to London. We must tie your hands, gentlemen,--there's no help for it."
"Nay," said George Brooke; "what there's no help for, must be submitted to.--Did you ever see a pig killed on a scouring table?"
"No, sir," answered the man.
"I am sorry for it," said George Brooke; "it is an instructive sight. This fat gentleman submits with all patience, because, as you say, there is no help for it; but he has his squeak, notwithstanding. Nevertheless, you will let us have a cup of wine before we go. On my faith, I am both hungry and thirsty; and if you look at the countenances of those three fair gentlemen opposite, you will see that they are somewhat incommoded at the stomach."
"Come, come, I can't stay," replied the officer. "You may have some wine when you get to the Tower."
"Oh, the Tower!" said George Brooke: "we are to be taken there first, are we?"
"No, sir--first to Cobham House," answered their captor.
"Cobham House?" exclaimed George Brooke, with an affectation of surprise. "What, is poor Cobham in the scrape too? I have sins enough to answer for, so that my only puzzle is, which I am arrested for. But Cobham, poor fellow, is as innocent as a sucking dove."
"I have a warrant against him for high treason, however," replied the officer; "and I thought to find him here. But we have been deceived, it seems."
"Heaven send you the like good fortune for the future!" replied Brooke; "but if I must ride, the sooner the better, and if you could spare me the gay bracelets you talk of, I would give you my word of honour neither to make use of my own two legs, nor the horse's four in anything less seemly than a slow and quiet procession to the Tower."
"No, no, Master Lightheart, I can't trust you," replied the officer; "come, go to business, my masters!" and, in about five minutes more, Brooke and his companions were mounted, and on their way to London, guarded by a strong party of officers and soldiers.
The streets of the great city were dull and desolate; for the plague was raging sadly in the English capital, and not a soul ventured beyond the threshold of his own door, unless driven to do so by urgent business. Passing along one of the once thronged thoroughfares, they at length reached Cobham House; and, pausing at a little distance from the door, the officer in command dismounted, with two or three of his men, and, approaching with a quiet step, rang the bell. A burly porter instantly appeared; and two other servants were seen slumbering on either side of the empty fire-place. Everything betokened feelings of security; but when the porter saw by the dresses of those without, the nature of their calling and object, he would fain have banged the door to, in the chief officer's face.
Experience, however, had taught the latter to provide against all such contingencies; and the moment that the large mass of wood rolled back, he had put his foot against it, so as to frustrate the porter's efforts at once.
"Here, Harrington," he said, "keep these good fellows under arrest, while I and the others go up to speak to my Lord Cobham."
His orders were obeyed immediately; and several of his followers entered and took possession of the hall, forbidding any one to stir on pain of death. The chief officer and three others in the meantime advanced straight up stairs to the small room where we have seen a conference held between Lord Cobham and Count Aremberg. The chamber was vacant, however, and walking on to a door that was ajar on the opposite side, the officers passed through an ante-room to another door, which they opened unceremoniously. There they found the nobleman they sought, sitting quietly reading in a dressing-gown.
"Good evening, my Lord," said the chief officer; "I am afraid you must come with us. I have a warrant to convey you to the Tower."
Cobham started up with a face as pale as death. "This is Raleigh's doing!" he cried: "the villain--the traitor--this is all Raleigh's doing! I thought he would betray me--out upon the false-hearted knave!'
"Well, my Lord," replied the man; "you and he must settle that together. He's by this time safe enough; and now you had better put on your coat, for we have no time to spare."
Cobham obeyed slowly, pausing every minute to pour forth invectives upon Raleigh, and to give way to all the wild and incoherent exclamations that rage and despair could suggest. At the end of about a quarter of an hour, however, he was conveyed into the street, and, being taken down to the bank of the river, was placed in a boat with the other prisoners, and borne rapidly onward to the dark and fatal Tower of London. Cobham would fain have spoken with his brother; and George Brooke tried more than once to give the peer a hint for his guidance; but silence was imposed upon them by the guard, and they were placed as far from each other as possible, till at length the barge was rowed slowly towards the landing-place.
"I must see the King, Master Graves," said William Seymour, on the afternoon of the day, some of the events of which we have just recorded, "and that immediately, if it be possible."
"You cannot have speech of him now, sir," replied the usher. "His Majesty is deep in consultation with Lord Essendon."
"Lord Essendon!" exclaimed William Seymour; "who may that be? Oh, Sir Robert Cecil, I suppose; but, nevertheless, Master Graves, I must beg you to inform his Majesty that I am here, and have something important to communicate to him."
After considerable hesitation, the usher quitted the antechamber and entered the King's closet. The door was partly left open behind him, and Seymour heard the monarch's voice engaged in instructing Cecil in the art and mystery of removing the dew-claws of deer-hounds. Nevertheless, he appeared not a little disturbed by the interruption of this important disquisition, said first, that the gentleman must wait, asked what need he had to be in such a hurry; and at length, being informed that his business was of importance, he bade the usher show him in, adding, with a horribly blasphemous oath, "Let him come in, then, let him come in; but if I find he interrupts my council without cause, I will have his ears slit."
The blood came up into Seymour's face as he heard those words, and he walked slowly and with a stern brow into the King's presence, as soon as the usher threw back the door to give him admission.
"Well now, man, well," cried James, shuffling himself impatiently to the other side of his chair, "what's the matter now, that you must disturb us when in deep consultation on matters of importance? What, is this all?" he continued, taking up a letter which Seymour placed before him. "The lassie's epistle might well have waited for a more convenient season. We will criticise it at our leisure. Her style is not amiss, and deserves correction. You may go, sir; but you must learn not to intrude with trifles upon a King who has more serious matters to think of."
"The lady informed me, sire," replied Seymour, "that the letter was of the utmost consequence. She bade me promise to deliver it into your Majesty's own hand, and not to lose a moment till I did so."
"That's the way with all these women," said James, throwing down the letter upon the table; "they think that the merest trifle about them--a pair of gloves, or a pot of perfume--is as much as the safety of a kingdom, or a fundamental point of doctrine."
"The Lady Arabella Stuart said, sire," answered Seymour, taking a step towards the door, "that the letter concerned your Majesty's safety, and the welfare of the state."
"Ha!--what? What's that ye say, sir!" exclaimed the King, snatching up the letter again, with a nervous twitching of the face. "Our immediate safety? Stay, man, stay," and he opened the letter in haste.
"Odds life!" he cried, when he had read it, and before he had opened the enclosure, "she's a good lassie, and has a tender regard for our sacred person, with all due humility on her part. Read what she says, my Lord, while we peruse the enclosed."
Cecil took the letter from the King's hand, and examined the contents attentively, but with his usual cool and impenetrable look, showing not the slightest emotion of any kind. In the meanwhile, the King read through from beginning to end the letter from Lord Cobham which Arabella had enclosed, without making any remark till he came to the conclusion, when he said, "Just so, just so; this is full confirmation."
"Perhaps, sire, Mr. Seymour had better retire for a little," observed Cecil.
"No need, man, no need," replied James; "he's a discreet young man, and will not divulge the King's counsel. What think ye of this affair, my Lord?"
"The lady seems to treat it very lightly, sire," replied his councillor; "she evidently looks upon the whole matter as a scurvy jest."
"Ay, does she? and rightly," said the King, "as far as she is personally concerned; but ye see when she comes to speak of our safety, she takes up a very different tone, saying, 'Whatever affects your Majesty, however, immediately grows into a matter of such importance, that although I cannot help regarding what this Lord has written to me as even more foolish than wicked, and in fact only to be laughed at, yet I will venture to send the letter to your Majesty.' She might have spared that word," observed the King, looking up to William Seymour. "You must tell her, sir, always to attend to the euphony of her sentences; and there is nothing that destroys it so much as tautology, producing a cacophony very unpleasant to the ear"--and turning to the letter again, he read on, "'trusting that you will rather forgive an over zeal, though it be troublesome, than a neglect of duty.' That's not amiss, my Lord; we have nothing to reprove in that phrase. Now, sir, what think ye ought to be done?" and he looked slily in Cecil's face, with an expression which the minister did not comprehend.
"I should suggest, your Majesty," replied Cecil, "under correction of your wisdom, that a warrant should be immediately issued for the apprehension of this Lord Cobham. Though it is usual to call the council together upon such an occasion, yet your Majesty's undoubted prerogative, and the necessity of haste, well overstep such ceremonies."
"True, my Lord, true," said James; "for if a rat-catcher lets all his dogs run on before him, he'll not gripe many of the long-tailed gentry that frequent the holes and corners of old houses."
"Assuredly, sire," replied Cecil, gravely.
"Do ye not think it's better," continued the King, "for him to go quietly and secretly to work, peering into this hole, and that, and catching a beast here, and a beast there, and baiting his traps artificially with a piece of cheese, or a piece of bacon; as the case may be, without even whispering in the cat's ear to take care where she puts her paws!"
"Beyond all doubt, sire," answered Cecil, "that is the most expedient course."
"Well, man, well," cried James, bursting into a fit of laughter; "I am the rat-catcher, and by this time, I trust, I have gotten all the brutes safe in the trap."
Practised as Cecil was in the ways of a court, powerful as was his command over his own countenance, he could not refrain from an expression of some surprise, not unmingled with curiosity, as to the monarch's meaning. As the intention of James, however, was evidently to astonish him, the courtier may have perhaps displayed even more than he felt, when he exclaimed aloud, "Your Majesty fills me with wonder--I cannot tell what you mean."
"We will tell thee, we will tell thee," cried James; "we will expound the matter, my good lord secretary. Here is a list of certain gentlemen," and he produced a paper, not the most cleanly in appearance, which he proceeded to read, saying, "The Lord Cobham, the Lord Grey de Wilton, Sir Walter Raleigh, knight, Sir Griffin Markham, Sir Edward Parham, both knights, Master George Brooke, Master Copely, Fathers Watson and Clarke. There's a goodly list, containing some of the most ill-ordered men in the kingdom. Two popish priests, a puritan, an atheist, three or four free-thinkers and libertines, and all traitors. Now, if God have any mercy left for this poor realm of ours, all these rats, man, are by this time in the Tower, by virtue of a warrant under our hand, despatched yesterday evening at four of the clock."
"I can scarcely believe my ears, sire," exclaimed Cecil. "How might your Majesty's wisdom discover this affair?"
"Ay, that's a secret, man; that's a secret," cried the King, "and by--" and he used one of his usual blasphemous oaths of a very terrible and disgusting sort, "I will never tell how I discovered it. But it is just so, Cecil; and had this girl not thought fit to let us know the treasonable practices of these men towards her, she might have brought suspicion on herself. You see, my Lord, that this letter of the Lord Cobham is dated the evening before last, at five, post meridian. Now she could not well get it till this morning."
"I found her in great tribulation, sire," said William Seymour, "and she said she was glad to find a messenger she could trust. Master George Brooke, too, whom your majesty has just named, called while I was there, but the Lady Arabella refused to see him, and sent him away with a short answer."
"Ha!" exclaimed the King, "she should not have done that, she should have admitted him to her presence, given him soft words, and lured him gently to display all his evil intentions and secret machinations."
"Perhaps, sire," said William Seymour, with more respect in his tone than he really felt in his heart, "she might think that therein she might have trenched upon your Majesty's peculiar province; for nobody I should think is so competent to carry on such a keen and subtle investigation as yourself."
Cecil gave a sharp glance at him, to see if he felt the keen satire of his own speech, or if, on the contrary, he had uttered it in simplicity. William Seymour's face, however, was perfectly calm and grave; and the King, according to his custom, took nothing but the complimentary part to himself.
"True, sir, true," he cried, "a very discreet observation, and doubtless the young lady judged rightly in leaving the matter in our hands. We are, it must be confessed, not insignificantly astute in discovering the designs of conspirators. We have had, to our sorrow, much experience in such matters, our good people of Scotland being a somewhat unruly and self-willed race, with very little reverence for anything, especially for kings, though they should know that a monarch, being anointed of the Lord, is, in fact, God's Vicegerent on earth, to whom all men owe obedience and honour."
Seymour merely bowed his head; but Cecil enlarged upon the theme, and expressed without any reservation his wish that people would a little more consider whence the authority of kings was derived.
"Wait a little, wait a little," cried James, "we will indoctrinate them, and, if there be any sense left in the world, will show them from Scripture on what the prerogative of a monarch is founded. And so, Cecil, I can see you would fain know whence came our information regarding this plot--Ye'll never divine, man. It's a secret for our own keeping. But this much I'll tell ye, that it came from neither an Englishman nor a Scot, a Frenchman nor an Italian, a Spaniard nor a Hollander. Now go to and con your riddle."
"It is beyond my capacity, sire," replied Cecil, "and it only remains for me to inquire what your Majesty would have further done."
"They must all be tried, man; they must all be tried," said King James; "but the plague being still in London, we will have them brought to Winchester. Though it may be as well to have the man called Markham and the two priests fetched hither; for we would fain ask our fair cousin Arabella whether they are the men she saw in Cambridgeshire."
"May not that be better done at the trial, sire?" asked Cecil, who would fain have prevented the King, if possible, from stepping out of the usual course of proceeding.
"No, no, man," cried James, "we will have it so. A little preliminary investigation by ourselves will save the lawyers a great deal of trouble. And you, sir," he continued, addressing William Seymour, "as you have behaved yourself very discreetly in this affair, shall go over on the Wednesday morning,--was it not Wednesday, we said?--with another gentleman, to escort the Lady Arabella to our court. What, sir, you do not look pleased!"
William Seymour, who, to say truth, was only displeased at having any one else joined with him in the commission, immediately replied, "I am here only to obey your Majesty's command, and am always well pleased to do so."
"That is right, sir, that is right," said the King; "always act as wisely as you have done in this, and you shall have advancement;--you may now retire."
Seymour gladly obeyed the monarch's commands; for though he was of a loyal race and disposition, it was very difficult to keep up a remembrance of what is always due to a monarch for his very office sake, in the presence of one whose character as well as his demeanour, whose acts as well as his person, had so little in them to secure respect. He had pleasant anticipations before him, however; and the rest of the evening was passed in thinking of the sweet task appointed for the following Wednesday, or in building airy structures, with the aid of those master architects, Hope and Imagination.
Alas! how often does it happen that the events to which we look forward with the brightest expectations, which seem to our eyes full of coming joy, are fraught with sorrow and disaster! We must not exactly say, that the day to which Seymour stretched the longing eyes of love and hope, proved the most unfortunate in his life, for such was not the case. There was a far darker and more fatal one beyond; but still the events it brought forth were amongst the most unpleasant which had yet befallen him in life.
The morning of that Wednesday dawned brightly; the sky was clear and serene; there was sufficient air to refresh the traveller as he rode along; and William Seymour, followed by his own servants, and accompanied by Sir Lewis Lewkenor, who held the office of master of the ceremonies at the King's court, proceeded at a quick pace to the temporary residence of the Lady Arabella Stuart.
They found her dressed and waiting for them, her servants all prepared, and her own horse saddled, and at the door. She could not refrain from greeting Seymour with more warmth than a mere stranger; and, to say the truth, her countenance fell a little at the sight of his companion; for she had hoped that they might enjoy, during their two hours' ride, some of that private conversation which they had now but too few opportunities of obtaining. Sir Lewis, perhaps, remarked this difference of manner towards himself and Seymour, with whom he had been giving himself some airs of importance as they came along, to which the young gentleman, occupied with his own thoughts, had paid but little attention. The knight, at all events, chose the moment of their departure for the display of his official consequence; and when Arabella, after taking leave of her aunt, approached the side of her horse, in order to mount, he advanced as of right to assist her. But Seymour took one step forward between him and the lady, and, with a light and easy hand, lifted her at once to the saddle.
"Sir, I do not understand what you mean by this!" exclaimed Sir Lewis; "you take too much upon yourself, and forget that it is my right to place the lady on her horse, as one of the chief officers of his Majesty's household."
Seymour turned towards him with a look of surprise, not unmingled with anger and scorn.
"It is you who forget yourself, Sir Lewis Lewkenor," he replied: "pray remember to whom you speak, and do not forget that you are but a petty gentleman, somewhat honoured by the King, but not fitted to put yourself upon a par with the old nobility of this realm."
"Sir," exclaimed the knight, in a fierce tone, which he strove in vain to moderate, "it is on the rights of my office that I stand; and I tell you that you have done what you ought not to have done, even had you been a much more important person than you are or ever will be."
"The question of the rights of your office, sir," answered Seymour, "will easily be settled by a reference to his Majesty. In regard to my own station, I should think I lowered it, even by bringing it into comparison with Sir Lewis Lewkenor. But to end this dispute, as you must see it is painful to the lady, let me say that to me first the King assigned the task of escorting her to Wilton; and I should be neglecting my duty to myself and her, and forgetting that the same blood runs in my veins and those of his Majesty, as well as showing myself wanting in respect to him who gave me the commission, if I yielded precedence to any simple knight.--If you think I do wrong, you can report the case to his Majesty."
While he had been speaking, he had put his foot in the stirrup; and now, springing into the saddle, he placed himself on Arabella's right. The lady paused a moment for Sir Lewis to mount, and the whole party then issued forth from the gates. For about two miles they continued in the same order, Seymour speedily forgetting the little dispute that had occurred, and talking at first gravely, but after a time more gaily with Arabella; while Sir Lewis Lewkenor, on her left, maintained a sombre and angry silence, working himself up into fury at the indignity which he supposed was put upon him.
At length, however, he suddenly brought round his horse, pushed it violently between that of Seymour and the lady's jennet, and exclaimed, "My post is on the right, sir; and I will not give it up to any man--though he be the grandson of a saucy Earl, who once well nigh lost his head for his presumption."
Seymour's eyes flashed fire; and he had seized the bridle of the knight's horse, when Arabella interposed. "I beseech--I entreat!" she cried. "Oh, Mr. Seymour, do not show yourself so intemperate as this person, who certainly strangely forgets himself, to do such things in my presence."
William Seymour was calm in a moment. The angry light passed away from his eyes; he let go the bridle of Sir Lewis Lewkenor's horse, and turning his own rein, rode round upon Arabella's left hand. A painful pause of a few minutes then succeeded; but, after a slight effort, the lover mastered the feelings of indignation in his heart, and resumed his conversation with her he loved, gradually returning to the easy and unconstrained tone in which he had before been speaking; so that the lady fancied he would easily forget all the offence which had been given. Women's hearts are generally forgiving, except on one or two points; and they are ever inclined to believe that those of men are equally placable with their own. It is, perhaps, a happy error, and yet it is a great one. William Seymour felt himself insulted; and he was not one to pass over an insult, though he might forget an injury.
The ride onward, on his part, passed in perfect tranquility; while, on the side of Sir Lewis Lewkenor, nought was displayed but that silent and dogged sullenness, which rarely fails to mark the conduct of one who feels that he has been both wrong and disagreeable.
They at length reached the splendid mansion of Wilton, to which their steps were directed, and Seymour, springing from his horse, lifted Arabella from the saddle. Their angry companion did not interfere, but bowed low as she turned to depart; while Seymour kissed her hand, with the admitted gallantry of the time, and followed her to the door, as if he were going to enter with her. The moment he saw her within the hall, and led forward by the royal servants, however, he turned hastily upon his steps, and approached Sir Lewis Lewkenor, who was talking to one of the grooms.
"I must have the honour of speaking to you for a moment, sir," he said, with a low inclination of the head.
The knight looked somewhat surprised, but followed him to a little distance, and then paused, demanding in a much more placable tone, "What is it, Mr. Seymour?"
"Simply, sir," replied the young gentleman, "that you must be aware such conduct as you have displayed towards me this day must be accounted for."
"I protest, sir," replied the knight, "that I have stood but upon the prerogative of my office; and of that his Majesty must decide."
"Certainly," replied Seymour; "but you have also used words with which the King can have no concern. You termed me the grandson of a saucy Earl, who had once nearly lost his head for his presumption. The man who used such terms was a liar; and the man who ventures to be insolent under the protection of a lady's presence, but shrinks from the weight of what he has said when she is gone, is a coward. I trust, sir, you are not of the latter class, and I maintain you to be of the former. It will, therefore, become you to follow me, if you have no urgent business that may detain you."
Sir Lewis Lewkenor was by no means a timid man; and though perhaps he would have given not a little to have been able with propriety to retract his words, yet the false laws of honour would not permit him to do so; and he consequently replied, "I am with you, sir; but perhaps you are unaware, that any one who draws a sword within the precincts of the royal residence, subjects himself to severe punishment."
"I am fully aware of the fact," replied William Seymour; "and I neither intend to expose you nor myself to such consequences; but a short walk after our long ride will do us no harm; and if you do not object, we will retread our steps towards a solitary oak, which you may remember we passed but now. It is beyond the limits, I think; and though I must certainly apologize for the trouble I give you, in making so long an excursion, I trust you will forgive me, seeing that I have no choice."
"Well, sir, well! I will not disappoint you," said the knight. "It is certainly beyond the precincts of the Court, and I am with you when you please."
"I will accompany you this moment," replied Seymour; "we shall be missed if we stay long,--my sword, I think, is somewhat shorter than yours; so that there is no advantage on my side."
"Nor any on mine," answered the knight. "Shall we go on foot or on horseback?"
"On foot, by all means," replied Seymour; "our beasts are too much exhausted to do good service. Will you walk? I am ready."
"Your most humble servant," answered Sir Lewis; and with these courteous words, they set out side by side, forbidding the servants to follow, and taking their way towards the oak-tree Seymour had mentioned, with every appearance of amity and good-will upon their countenances.
In the great drawing-room of Lord Pembroke's house at Wilton sat the King and Queen of England, offering a strange contrast to each other, both in person and manners; she, in the beauty, grace, and suavity, for which she was famous, and which won the hearts of her husband's people; and he, in the ungainly ugliness, awkwardness, and pride, which regal state only served to render more prominent and remarkable. They were surrounded by a brilliant court, though not a very ample one; for the fears entertained of the plague, which was then raging in England, induced the monarch to keep at a distance a great number of the principal nobles of the land. But the taste of the Queen for splendour, and the love of the King for fine clothing, not on his own person, but on his favourites, ensured that the most costly stuffs and the richest hues should be displayed around him, as if for a contrast to his own slovenly and ill-fashioned garments.
With all her popular qualities, Anne of Denmark had, as is well-known, not only a strong, but a somewhat passionate spirit; and there was a heightened spot in her fair cheek which showed to those who knew her, that something had gone wrong between her husband and herself. Nothing had, indeed, occurred in public to indicate what was the occasion of quarrel, for the Court was merely assembled to receive the address of some neighbouring town, the King having been induced to admit the deputation, not without much persuasion and argument.
His demeanour to the worthy mayor and aldermen had been cold and repulsive, while that of Anne had been full of gracious condescension and kindness. The King had made an harangue after his style, in which he set forth the rights of kings, and dwelt much more upon his own authority and dignity, than upon the loyalty of his people generally, or that of the corporation before him in particular; and the deputation retired, delighted with the manners and appearance of the Queen, but somewhat sick and disgusted with his Majesty, and utterly at a loss to know what he meant by the long disquisition into which he had entered.
The moment they were gone, James began to fidget in his seat, looked twice round to the face of Arabella Stuart, who stood on the left hand of the Queen's chair, and then gave a nod to one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber, saying, in a low voice, "Now, bring them in, bring them in."
"I wonder what nonsense is to be enacted now!" said Anne of Denmark, addressing Arabella in a whisper, and in the Italian tongue, which, notwithstanding her northern extraction, she spoke much more fluently than English. "The King has some surprise in store--he is too fond of this stage effect."
"I really do not know," replied Arabella, whose cheek was pale, and her voice faint. "I hope and trust he is not going to enter upon the affair of that unfortunate quarrel, which I mentioned to your Majesty. I fear it may be so, for he insisted upon my being present to-day, though I felt unwell, and little equal to the task. Neither do I see Sir Lewis Lewkenor nor Mr. Seymour present."
"We shall soon know," answered the Queen; "but don't be alarmed, poor child; I'll quiet the matter. But who are these they are bringing in? No, this is some other affair."
As she spoke, two officers, with several halberdiers, entered the room, escorting three men, evidently prisoners, for though their limbs were at liberty, they wore neither sword nor dagger, as was customary for all gentlemen in those days, while before and after each walked an armed soldier of the guard.
"There, there!" cried the King, "bring them not too near--that will do; let them stand there. Show your faces, sirs, so that this lady may see them. Now, Lady Arabella, look at these men well, and tell me if any of them were amongst those who accompanied the Baron de Mardyke--whom you once told me of, and who has since fled from England--when he began broaching to you treason, at a time when we had scarce crossed the border to take possession of the throne, which descended to us by hereditary right. Why, what ails the lassie? She's as white as a Holland sheet, and shaking like a man in an ague!"
"Oh, sire, I do beseech you!" exclaimed Arabella, "do not force me to become a witness against any of these misguided men. I did hope and trust that, in dealing openly with your Majesty, as in duty bound, and in concealing nothing, even when it seemed to me trifling, which affected your Majesty's sacred rights, you would spare me, and not force me to take any farther part in matters that might doom them to death. Surely, your Majesty's own wisdom and judgment are sufficient to condemn or exculpate them, without my having any share in it."
As she spoke, she held her eyes resolutely down, while Sir Griffin Markham, who stood in the front, fixed on her a keen and anxious glance, knowing how much it would aggravate his crime, if it could be proved that he was the very first to move in the treason, for which he was now a prisoner, and that he had twice put himself forward to oppose the King's title to the crown.
"Nonsense!" cried the King; "we must first know the truth, madam, before we can judge of it. Look at them this minute, I say. We have examined them ourselves this morning, and must hear whether their story be true. What are you afraid of?"
"She is afraid, to be sure," said Anne of Denmark, interposing, of "being called hereafter into a rude court of justice, questioned by brutal lawyers, exposed to the gaze of the rabble, and all those things to which a lady of her rank and age ought not to be subjected."
"If that be all," said Cecil, taking a step forward, "I know his Majesty does not propose that the Lady Arabella should be called as a witness on the trial; and, of course, to satisfy his Majesty upon the point in question, here in private, she can have no hesitation. The King will not be satisfied," he added, in a low tone, to Anne of Denmark, while James called one of the ushers to him, and made him arrange the prisoners in a line--"the King will not be satisfied without an answer; and the sooner this scene is over the better."
"Now look at the men, lady," said James, as soon as he saw that the culprits were disposed according to his pedantic notions of regularity, "and answer my question."
"I did not hear it rightly, sire," answered Arabella, still hesitating and trembling.
"Then you should make better use of your luggs," cried the monarch, sharply. "I told you to look at these three men, and say whether you saw either of them with the Baron de Mardyke, who has fled from England, what time he held some conversation with you in Cambridgeshire, for I find by faithful witnesses that they were all in those parts about that time."
Arabella raised her eyes timidly, and gazed at the three prisoners, while Sir Griffin Markham turned as pale as death, and the two priests looked sternly down upon the ground. The lady's eyes first turned upon Watson, and then upon Clarke, the latter of whom had, indeed, been at the inn on the occasion referred to. Being one of those, however, who had remained behind in the kitchen, while she had conversed with the knight in the next room, and had sat with his back towards her, as she passed out again, the glance she had had of his features was very slight. She then turned towards Markham, and her heart beat quick when she recognised the person who had assumed the name of the Baron de Mardyke. Immediately after, however, the terms of the King's question came back to her mind, and though her pure, high heart dreaded the thought of prevarication, she did not feel herself bound to do more than answer it exactly as it stood.
"I do not see any one, sire," she replied, after a moment's consideration, "who I can be sure was with the Baron de Mardyke on the occasion to which your Majesty refers. Two of their faces I have seen somewhere before, but----"
"Come, come," cried the King, interrupting her; "we must have a clearer answer, Mistress Arabel. Take them one by one. Stand forward, Father Watson--though why we should call you Father, I don't know. Now, lady, is this man one of them?"
"I never saw his face before," replied Arabella.
"Now, Father Clarke," continued the King, "it's your turn now;" and as the priest came forward, James turned his eyes to Arabella's face.
"Somewhere I have seen this gentleman," she said, after gazing at him attentively; "but I do not by any means know that it was there--it might have been anywhere else as well."
The King looked dissatisfied, and lolled his tongue about in his mouth.
"Now, Sir Griffin Markham," he cried; and at the sound of his name Arabella started with a feeling of relief, while the King turned to her, inquiring, "Well, what do you say to him?"
Arabella gazed on him steadfastly, and then replied, "In this case I am quite sure, sire, that this gentleman, who you say is Sir Griffin Markham, was not with the Baron de Mardyke at that time."
The lips of the prisoner moved without giving utterance to any sound, but he said in his heart, "If I live, lady, I will not forget your conduct this day, and will repay it."
Arabella felt her heart sink; for though what she said was literally true, yet it was calculated to mislead; and she loved not to do so, even to save a fellow-creature's life.
"There, take them away, take them away," cried the King, disappointed; for he had fancied that his skill and dexterity had puzzled out a connexion between the schemes formerly revealed to him by his fair cousin, and those in which Lord Cobham had been lately engaged. "Away with them! away with them!--and now we will proceed to that other business."
"I beseech you, sir," said Anne of Denmark, as the prisoners were removed from the room; "to suffer me and these ladies to retire, if you have any more such matters to inquire into. They neither please nor befit us; and our fair cousin here is not so well as to endure such things with safety."
"Ay, but she must stay--she must stay," cried the King; "for this is a matter regarding which she only can speak. Call Mr. Seymour here, and Sir Lewis Lewkenor. We must hear how all this befel."
"I beseech you, sire, let me go," said Arabella. "I have been frightened and agitated already this morning, by the quarrel of these gentlemen. I have been also agitated by the questions your Majesty has asked. I have told you all that occurred."
"No, no, that wont do," cried James; "you must repeat it here in order."
"Then let me do so, sire, at once," said Arabella. "The first dispute was, which should place me on my horse, and Mr. Seymour having done so, Sir Lewis reproached him for taking what he called his place, saying that his office in your Majesty's court entitled him to it. Mr. Seymour replied, however, that your commands to escort me were first given to him: that his rank, and the fact of his bearing in his veins the same blood as your Majesty, however distantly, gave him precedence over any simple knight, and that he should think he was wanting even in duty to you if he did not take upon him the post which you had assigned him."
"Well, what more, what more?" cried the King, just as William Seymour, followed by an usher, entered the drawing-room, and approached the circle. "There were after words, I think?"
"But few, sire," replied Arabella, the warm blood coming up into her cheek; "Mr. Seymour rode for some way on my right hand, while Sir Lewis on the left seemed sullen and discontented. At length, however, he came round and insisted that Mr. Seymour should give up that place to him."
"There he was wrong," cried the King; "there he was wrong. What more, lady?"
"Really, I cannot justly tell, sire," replied Arabella; "I was much frightened, and not a little displeased; and after some sharp words between the two gentlemen, Mr. Seymour yielded, I think out of pity to me, and came to the other side."
"There he was right," said James. "But where is Sir Lewis Lewkenor! Have you called him, usher?"
"He is in bed, your Majesty," said the other, "and humbly begged your Majesty would excuse him."
"In bed?" exclaimed the King; "why, what ails him? He has not got the plague, has he?"
"No, your Majesty," replied the usher; "he's somewhat badly wounded in the shoulder."
"I found myself bound, sire," said William Seymour, taking a step forward, "to punish a personage who thought fit to use towards me words unbecoming a gentleman to give or to receive; and who had, moreover, paid no respect either to my rank or station, to my distant relationship to your Majesty, or to your own will in naming me the first to escort the Lady Arabella hither."
"And so ye have fought?" cried the King, opening his large eyes, and gaping upon him with his mouth, as if in utter astonishment; "and so ye have fought.--My truly! ye are a graceless pack; and if ye have drawn your swords within the precincts of our court, ye shall both suffer accordingly."
"No, sire," replied Seymour; "we took care not so to offend. But immediately on our return, we went beyond the park walls to a spot about a mile and a half distant, and there ended our quarrel as became us."
"Became you?" cried the King; "I'd have you to know, that nothing of the kind becomes you at all--I will have a stop put to such things, and no more bickering, and quarrelling, and taking to the strong hand in my dominions. As ye punished him, as ye call it, I'll punish you and banish you from our realm, not to return till our pleasure. Ye take much upon you, sir, on the strength of a very distant relationship to ourselves; ye set great store by a small matter."
"No small matter, sire, in my eyes, to be ever so distantly related to your Majesty," replied the young gentleman, who, though grieved and indignant, was anxious if possible to conciliate the King, and obtain a reversal of his sentence.
"That's not ill-spoken, sir," answered James; "but, nevertheless, we will have you take the air of the continent for a couple of years; the warmer climate may suit your warm blood, and when we have sure proof that it has grown cooler, we will let you come back again, but not before; for we are resolved that such strife shall no longer go on."
William Seymour stood before the King for a moment without reply. There was, indeed, an answer springing to his lips; that it was not in the power of any King, by his mere word, to banish a British subject from the land of his birth. But he recollected that by such conduct he might blast all his own dearest hopes for ever; that there were means, too, within the reach of those in authority to change the fate which seemed to await him even for a worse; and in the mood which apparently reigned throughout the whole court and kingdom, the King's will, he feared, would be taken for law.
A hope, too, might enter into his breast, that by using the influence of his family and friends he might shake the monarch's decision; and, amongst the multitude of hurrying thoughts that crossed his mind, during the single moment that he stood there silent, there came a sweet, delusive dream, full of romance and love,--for it could not be called a plan,--which made him fancy that, under some circumstances, his exile might be converted into the brightest of blessings.
After a brief pause, then, he bowed and retired, thinking that he caught upon the countenance of Cecil a slight smile, as if the minister were not altogether displeased at the course which events had taken, but unable to comprehend whence arose the enmity which that look betrayed.