Then followed a note. It read thus:—
"If thy friend, Sir Walter, doth desire to save the Lady Hazel Woodville from one which now resides within the walls of this place, and who is as bitter an enemy of Sir Walter as he is ardent lover of the aforesaid lady, he had best tarry in his flight for a sufficient time to allow him to take the lady with him along. However, let him not abide there; but hasten along upon his journey until he cometh unto the second road turning unto his right after leaving Westminster. Let him follow this for the distance of about three miles, and he shall then come unto a house, from the window of which a flag shall hang. The aforesaid house is not occupied, and may be used by the refugees for their hiding-place. Let them there remain all day to-morrow; for the aforesaid enemy of Sir Walter doth intend to take the aforesaid lady from the Sanctuary, by force if necessary, to-morrow, ere he doth leave to join the King's army at Leicester.
"Praying with my heart's full strength that this warning may not be too late to save the gallant knight from the disgraceful death of a traitor to his country, I am, dear and respected sir,
(Signed) "A FRIEND."
"A friend? Now what friend can he be who hath access to my room when the door is locked?" mused Harleston.
"Besides, he must be one in favour to have such an order as is this," and he picked up the enclosed paper and read as follows:—
"Unto the bearer of this order grant admittance to the Tower of London, or to any part thereof. And further, likewise permit the aforesaid bearer to have conference with any prisoner or prisoners within the Tower. And further, permit the aforesaid bearer to have entrance or exit at whatever hour of day or night best conveniencing him.
(Signed) "RICARDUS REX."
My friend stood bent in thought for some time after reading this strange order. Then he raised his head quickly, as though a sudden solution of the problem had occurred to him.
"Can it be possible that this is a plot, laid with great cunning by Catesby, that I may be lured into the Tower, that there I may be kept? But then, this order doth command that the bearer shall also have exit. But it may be that the keepers know to whom it doth belong; and were I to present it they may have orders to arrest me for its theft. That should be a clever plan for removing me from his way. Then he might use force to gain admittance to the Sanctuary." These were the thoughts that now kept running through his mind, causing him great anxiety.
He then read the letter and order to Michael, and then told him of his doubts, and asked him for his opinion.
"Sure, sor," said Michael, "methinks the chances are that it were dangerous for thee, sor, to go thoysilf into that houle o' Hill. But, yer honour, it moight have come from Lord Stanley, and it may be the truth he sez. How'd it be, sor, if Oi moysilf wint in yer honour's place? Sure, Sor Walter must be saved, if Oi lose a scoure o' loives in the doin' o' it. Sure, sor, 'twould matter little if they did chop off moy head; but if thou wert wance shut up in that damned Tower what moight not happen to that swate lady in the Sanctuary?" And Michael's lips closed into a straight line that bespoke no good unto those which attempted to keep him in the Tower.
"'Tis good, Michael, that I follow thine advice; for whilst thou art aiding Sir Walter in his escape, myself will unto the Sanctuary, and there acquaint the Lady Hazel with our plans, and have her in readiness for the flight. Besides," he continued, "thy presence with Sir Walter will give me assurance that the keeper and the soldier guarding the breach shall make no noise.
"But come, we must make haste; for the night is already far spent, and Sir Walter and his dear lady must have left the Sanctuary by the dawn of day.
"Thou must go well armed, and take with thee a horse for Sir Walter."
"Oi will, sor."
"Do thou make ready the horses, that the grooms may know not who took them from the stable."
"Hadn't Oi bist take with me anither sword for Sor Walter? Thim spalpeens took his own from him, bad luck to thim fer it."
"Yes, Michael; 'twas thoughtful of thee to remember this necessity.
"And now, Michael, for thy directions:—
"Tether your horses in some quiet, and not too light, spot. Then proceed unto the western entrance, and to the officer in charge thereof present this order, being sure, however, to have him return it unto thee. In the same manner, providing that this order be not a trap, shalt thou pass the other gates. Inform these officers that thou dost desire to be taken unto the prison of Sir Walter Bradley, in the square tower. When thou dost see Sir Walter do not appear friendly with him if there be more than the one keeper present, lest it doth cause them to watch ye too closely. Thou knowest best how to silence the keeper.
"When this is accomplished give the letter unto Sir Walter. He will then know how to follow its directions.
"When ye are once out (if Heaven doth so far favour ye) come with all haste unto the Sanctuary, where the Lady Hazel shall be in readiness."
Whilst Harleston had been thus giving Michael his instructions they both had been arming each other in haste. They were now fully ready; so Michael went to prepare the horses. Frederick then followed Michael to the stables, and in a short time they were ready to set out.
"Do thou go first, Michael, and have a great care that thou dost follow closely the instructions that I gave thee. Pray God that thou dost succeed," and he gripped Michael's giant hand with a force that assured him, had he not already been aware of it, of his sincerity.
"Oi'll remimber, sor, and do as thou hast said. And be sure of this, yer honour; if the order be but a trap, moure than wan man now aloive and will shall see Gawd, or the divil, afore they take Moichael a prisoner." With this he was off, and Harleston stood for some moments gazing after the gigantic monument of honesty as he gradually faded from view and was swallowed up in the darkness. Then he himself mounted and started on his mission.
He had not, however, left the courtyard when he met a horseman, which called out to him as they passed each other:—"'Tis late for thee to be riding forth upon a journey, Sir Frederick. And besides, the road is dark to travel thus, alone." It was Catesby.
"Thanks for thy kindly warning," returned Frederick; "but I have but a short distance to travel, and the way, methinks, is safe." He then rode on; but for a few rods only; for here his horse stopped of its own accord.
As the noise of the horse's hoofs ceased suddenly, Frederick distinctly heard a low laugh come from out of the darkness, and in the direction where last he had seen Catesby.
"I fear Michael shall not return," thought Frederick, as he again proceeded on his way.
[1] Rous, the historian, states that these lines were written by Lord Rivers, during that unfortunate nobleman's imprisonment at Pomfret. K.M.
The key rattled in the lock, and I heard my jailer's voice:—
"This is the place. Best let me go in first; for he's as ugly as the devil, and may guzzle thee, a stranger, unless I tell him you're coming. Though methinks he'd soon drop thee, when he found the kind of game he had caught."
Then the door opened cautiously, and the straw-like head peeped fearfully around the corner. He had learned this lesson by my almost breaking his head one day when he happened to enter at a moment when my rage knew no bounds, as I thought of my wrongs, and imagined all kinds of fates for Hazel.
"Come in, and fear not, thou fool!" I said, for I liked not to behold such cowardice.
"Ha! thou hadst best keep quiet now; for here's one can master thee, big and all as thou art." And he shook his ring of enormous keys in mockery at me; however, from a safe distance.
I heard a rattle of armour, and, to my great surprise and delight, in walked Michael. I sprang to my feet and started to rush toward him; but he put his finger to his lip in warning.
The keeper who was busy with the locking of the door, turned in haste as he heard me start to my feet. Then, seeing me halt suddenly, he burst into a loud laugh.
"Ha, ha, ha!" bubbled from his frog-like throat. "Methinks that thou hast done well to stop and consider ere thou dost spring against a wall of stone. Well, upon my soul, sir, this is now my turn to laugh! Ha, ha, ha! Why dost thou stop? Why dost thou not break his head, as thou didst mine? Ha, ha, ha! Well, upon my—"
The place of the missing word was taken up in a gurgle, different however from his disgusting, coarse laugh. Michael had changed from his statue-like stolidity and, in the twinkling of an eye, the astounded keeper was dangling in the air, held at arm's length by the mighty Irishman, to whom it was no more exertion than it is to a female servant to shake, and then hurl from the door, a mischief-making cat.
"Kape still, ye varmint," growled Michael, as the struggling keeper kicked in every direction, some of his blows striking Michael on the legs.
Out flew the dagger from the keeper's belt, and with it he struck wildly at my squire's arm.
"Ha! thou scratchin' divil; why dost thou not be quoite? 'Twill do thee no good to stroike: mine arm is armoured. Uh! thou baste," he growled, as the dagger struck his bare hand. "Oi must thin finish thee." And releasing the hand that he had held at the back of the swine-like neck, and still holding the struggling keeper from the floor with the other, he struck him a blow upon the head with his clenched fist. There was a sound like that made by an egg when it is let fall upon a stone. A trembling from head to foot. The knees drew partly up, and then the legs stretched out full length, and stiff, and the keeper which had flung at me his taunts had died by the hand of my Herculean squire.
"Oh! my poor Michael, what hast thou done?" I cried. "Now thy honest life must pay for this."
"Beg pardon, sor, but playze don't spake so loud; some wan may hear us," said he, as he carried the dead jailer by the neck and laid him tenderly upon the bed.
"Oi had not mint to kill thee, thou poor fool; but Sor Fridrick tould me to make thee quoite, and, as thou wouldst scratch, I saw no other way." This to the body.
"But what means all this, Michael?" I asked, when I had done embracing him, (I could have kissed him; so glad was I to again see his honest face) at which he blushed like a maiden.
"Sure, sor, this same mysterious litter 'll till ye all, sor. Ser Fridrick found it on his table whin he returned to-noight." And then he told me, shortly, all that had happened since mine arrest.
"And hath Richmond yet landed?" I asked eagerly.
"Yis sor, Sor Fridrick tould me that he was now on his way to London. The King laves the city to-morrow, with an army, to take up his place at Leicester, as Oi think."
"Why Leicester?"
"Sor Fridrick said 'twas that he moight be near the cintre o' the country, so that his min can rache him without havin' to march far."
"That is like the tyrant, ever on the alert to take any advantage. A clever man is Richard. Such a King as he might have made, had he not been born a blood-supper."
Then I remembered the letter, and hastily I read it.
"What! is it to assist me to escape from this accursed place that thou hast come?"
"Sure, sor, fer divil a thing ilse."
The idea of such a chance had not even dawned upon my dazed brain. Remember, my dears, I had been for many long days and nights confined within a narrow room within the Tower. Ye cannot understand what that means, unless ye do go yourselves through it, the which pray God ye never may.
"But how?" I asked, as I drew the back of my hand across my brow in an effort to assist my comprehension. "It surely cannot be possible!"
"Possible or not, sor, we can do no worse than fail. But if what that strange litter sez be true we shan't fail, sor."
Then he told me where Harleston had gone to make all ready, in case we should succeed.
"What thinks Sir Frederick of this same letter?"
"Sure, sor, he knows not what to make out o' it. But sure, yer honour, so far the order hath bin all that we could wish, and if the rist o' what the writer sez be as good as has been the furst, uh! sure we'll have a good swim, and lave this damned place that gives wan the shivers to be on the insoide o'."
"It shall be difficult to swim in our armour."
"Sure it's not far, yer honour."
"Then assist me to make haste, that no time may be lost. But first tie up that scratch upon thy hand."
"Uh! sure, yer honour 'tis nothin'."
However, I bound my scarf about the hand of him I now loved so dearly, and then he assisted me to arm.
We were soon ready to start on this perilous attempt for freedom, that meant so much to me, if I should succeed, and such a calamity unto myself and another which I loved better a thousand times than I did my life, if I should fail.
I then went to the poor corpse upon the bed and detached the chain by which the ring that held his keys was suspended from his belt. I then crossed to the smoky lamp and re-read the letter with great care and attention, that its contents might be fully engraven upon my memory. I then carefully placed it within my gauntlet, and, warning Michael to leave his hands bare, that he might use them freely in quieting the soldier at the breach—in case we ever reached it—I cautiously unlocked the door. Then I opened it for a sufficient space to allow my head an exit, and fearfully I looked both ways along the corridor to make sure that no one was about. The hall was clear. I opened the door wider, and motioning Michael to follow, I stepped, as quietly as mine armour would permit, into the hall. With the quietness of a thief I re-locked the door and started on tip-toe down the passage. I had taken but a few steps, however, when Michael's hand was laid upon mine arm. I started, turned in fear, and then remembering Michael, I blushed in the darkness at my foolish, girl-like action.
"Beg pardon, sor, but dount ye think 'twould be bitter if we was to walk along as though we had the roight and didn't give a damn fer a soul o' thim?" whispered my companion.
"Well thought on, Michael," I returned, and we strode along with the apparent confidence of two keepers. Then Michael started whistling a gay Irish tune. This was more than my o'er-strained and assumed confidence could bear; so I placed my hand over his mouth and his whistling came to an abrupt end.
Then down the stairs we went until we reached the heavy door opening into the great archway through this tower. Here we paused for a moment whilst I asked Michael concerning the portcullis.
"It was up, sor, whin Oi intered."
"Then all is well. Now be careful, Michael, and watch me for any signal I may give thee; for on thee now depend our chances of success."
Then, with hands trembling with excitement, I at last found the proper key and inserted it in the lock. Then, with apparent carelessness, I flung the door wide open and strode forth, Michael following. At this very moment a soldier, as though on guard, marched with measured step along the arch-topped way. As he heard the door swing open he halted and, turning, watched us in the dim light cast by the flickering torch overhead. To hesitate for but an instant meant failure and certain death. Adopting Michael's plan I whistled softly an air that came by inspiration to my mind, and at the same time closed the door again and locked it with a great show of care. Then taking Michael by the arm I walked leisurely along, swinging the great ring of keys and whistling as I went.
Ah! my children, ye know not how trying was that indifferent walk. How sore was I tempted to break into a run, in a mad effort to leave that awful place behind me. But then, had I done so, I had not lived to see the setting of another sun. As we passed beneath the great portcullis I glanced back to where we had left the sentry. He was still standing beneath the light and gazing after us. No doubt he wondered who we were; but my apparent confidence and ease of manner re-assured him; for as we turned to our left to pass the round tower which adjoins the one in which I had been confined, he shouldered his pole-axe and resumed his lonely tramp.
"Two difficulties safely past," I whispered. "Now, Michael, have a great care and let not the soldier at the breach make the faintest sound."
"Oi'll do moy bist, sor," and I felt sure he would. Then we came to the short inner wall that runneth from the tower of St. Thomas back unto the square tower that we had just left.
As is ever the case, when one is in great haste, I tried every key but one depending from the ring, and still the great gate remained closed, none of them mating the lock. When I came to this last key a sudden horror came over me as I thought of the possibility of the whole affair being a trap to raise my hopes in the belief that I was about to escape, and then to have them hurled to the ground with shattering force. My life depended on this key. Would it turn back the bars and give me freedom and life, or would it, like the others, mock with its silent contempt my anxiety? How I longed to know my fate, and yet dreaded the test, lest I should fail. My hand shook as with palsy, and made it well nigh impossible for me to insert the key. Then 'twas in the lock; and still I did not turn it.
Verily, I have faced the deadly cannon, oft, and yet have felt no anxiety nor fear. But now, as I stood before that heavy gate, with the key already in the lock, requiring but a turn—that is if it did work—to set me at least nearer unto liberty, my courage did forsake me, and I really feared to turn the key.
Some there are, I know, who will say it was unmanly in me to thus hesitate. Mine answer, in advance, is:—Let them but place themselves in the same position and see then how they will act. It requires but little courage to tell what one would do; but it is different when one doth face the reality and not the argument.
At length, with a mighty effort, such as a man doth make when heaving with his shoulder in an attempt to move a mighty boulder, I summoned up all my strength of spirit, and exerted pressure on the key. Thank Heaven, it turned! I would have cheered with delight had not the plain warning of the letter remained fresh in my mind. Softly we swung the gate open and passed beneath the arch. I was about to push on and leave the gate open behind, but Michael, who seemed less disturbed than was I—but then he had not been confined within the Tower for long weeks—whispered:—
"Beg pardon, sor, but dount ye think 'twould be safer to lock the gate agin? They moight follow loike."
With great care I closed and locked the gate. Then, stealing slowly, as doth the fox, along the wall, we in time reached the shadow of St. Thomas tower. It was so dark here that I could scarce see Michael; for now 'twas past the hour of midnight, and the young moon had grown weary and was sinking her head upon the lap of earth, casting long, black shadows as she sank into her sleep.
How I cursed my creaking, yet necessary, armour as I stole along.
Then my heart beat so loudly that I thought the sentry near which we were now drawing must hear it and break forth with his loud, disturbing challenge. Back and forth he paced with weary, clanking steps, unconscious of the two dark forms working their way slowly, and well nigh breathlessly, towards him. Now we were pressing against the wall, as he halted almost within arm's length before us. Verily, his eyes must have been closed in partial sleep, or he had seen us. Then he tramped round, as though he had been fastened to a cord which permitted him to go but to its length and then warned him to return.
At that moment I attempted to draw back still further. My spur struck the wall with a sharp click, and this did cause me to lose my balance, and mine armoured shoulders clanked against the stones.
The soldier turned like a flash of light, and brought his axe from shoulder unto thigh. He was about to challenge when Michael, forcing the axe's point above his head, clapped his mighty hand over the surprised sentry's mouth, permitting no sound to escape.
I seized the axe, lest it should fall and rouse the guard.
"Be quoiet, thou fool, and no harm 'll come unto thee," whispered Michael in the fellow's ear, as he held him firmly to the ground.
With haste I searched me for my scarf.
"It's here, sor, about moy hand; jist untoie it, playze sor. Sure a little blood 'll do thee no harm. Thou shouldst thank the Lord that it isn't thoine own." This to the sentry.
When he had been made fast at both hands and feet, the which we bound with his belt, after cutting the leather into two strings, and when he had been securely gagged with the scarf, we carried him and placed him close to the wall, and then I warned him.
"Now, sirrah, if thou dost lie still and make no attempt to free thyself, or to attract attention, thou shalt not be mistreated. But, by all the fiends, if thou dost make a movement thou shalt be ripped from ear to ear, and then thrown into the moat. We shall be near at hand, and any sound from thee must reach us."
Then we proceeded to the breach with less care than we had hitherto used. Here the wall was torn away until but a foot in height remained. The artisan's tools were laid upon this low wall, and were well nigh the cause of our ruin; for just as I made a move to cross the breach my foot struck upon the pile of tools and almost caused them all to fall into the moat. Carefully we removed them from our way, and then we descended into the water.
I had never before attempted to swim while dressed in a complete suit of heavy armour; and much therefore did I doubt mine ability to do so now.
"Didst thou ever swim across water, whilst dressed in thine armour?" I asked of Michael.
"Divil a toime, yer honour."
"It will be difficult, Michael, and I may be compelled to ask thee to lend me a hand."
"All roight, yer honour." And we set out.
I had not overestimated the difficulty of our task, and ere we reached the outer wall I was glad to place my hand upon Michael's great shoulder to keep from sinking.
At length we reached the other side and, still struggling to keep our heads above the surface, we commenced to feel along the wall for the ladder mentioned in the letter.
"What if it should not be here?" I asked myself. Truly it should be a grand device for luring me unto my death; for it had been impossible for me to again cross the moat, so exhausted was I by the great exertion. Even the mighty giant by my side was breathing in great gasps, as though his Herculean strength were ebbing fast. Mine arms had now become so weak that I could scarce lift them above the surface for an instant that I might feel for the ladder.
"Here—sor," gasped my faithful squire, as he grasped me by the arm and drew me to him. "Oi—have it—at last—yer honour. The saints—be praised."
Yes, there it was, and how welcome did it feel to my trembling hand.
We remained thus, with our heads only above the water, for some moments, until we regained a part of our breaths.
I mounted the ladder first and climbed wearily to the top. Verily, never in all my life have I felt my body to be of such prodigious weight. Ah! I was on the top; and there I sat whilst Michael's enormous form came dripping out of the water below and wearily climbed the ladder.
"I climbed wearily to the top.""I climbed wearily to the top."
"I climbed wearily to the top.""I climbed wearily to the top."
"Mither-o'-Gawd! Oi fale loike a damned drowned rat." And indeed I felt as though the simile applied unto me most thoroughly.
Then we drew up the ropes and, unfastening the hooks, we reversed them and let down the ladder on the other side. Down this we went, and, thank Heaven, we were free from that great, black, menacing congregation of cold, cruel towers and walls.
I felt like a soul but new granted its release from the torturous fires of purgatory must feel as he looks back, with hunted, awe-struck eyes, at the place of his late confinement, and sighs with thankfulness for his freedom; yet shudders in fear that this liberty is but a dream from which he shall soon awaken to find himself again within the gates of agony.
Then we hastened on with soggy steps, making as wide an arch as the river would permit, that we might pass as far as possible from the Tower of St. Thomas.
We at length reached the place where Michael had left the horses. They were tethered in a shed attached to a vacant house not far from the walls of the Tower, and on the western side.
The sword that Michael had brought for my use was hanging from the lance-rest of the saddle. Hastily buckling it on I felt once more a man and knight. Then, mounting our horses, we rode forth into the night, and, at no slow pace, started by the nearest way on our journey to the Sanctuary.
We had no difficulty in passing through the city's gates. I merely called out in commanding tone:—"On the King's most urgent business," and the great gates swung back upon their mighty hinges as though there had been magic in my speech. Mayhap 'twas fortunate that the King had many messengers passing in and out of the city that night, or our exit had not been so easily accomplished. As we dashed through beneath the arch the keeper called out:—
"Is it true that Richmond hath landed?"
"Ay, ay, 'tis true indeed," I cried over my shoulder in reply, and on we went as though the fiends pursued us. Our horses were urged to their utmost, that we might leave the Sanctuary ere the day did dawn.
Already was the East casting off her dark robe of night and decking herself in brighter colours.
When we entered Westminster and drew up before the Sanctuary the door flew open and there, standing by Harleston, by whom she was restrained from rushing from the house, was my own fair darling; her body leaning forward, and her hand held above her eyes, as she peered into the darkness with a world of expectancy in her pose, as shown up right nobly by the lamp's bright light behind her.
Mary stood at Frederick's other side; her hand upon his arm, and also gazing forth.
Springing from my horse and handing the reins to Michael, I hastened towards them; taking care, however, to speak ere I did step into the rays of light, that the girls might not be startled by mine unannounced approach.
"Fear not, it is I—Walter."
"Oh, my dear, noble Walter!"
Harleston's arm no longer restrained, and we were locked in each other's arms in a shorter space of time than takes a thought to travel unto Heaven.
"Have a care, my darling, lest thou dost destroy that same handsome habit; for I am nothing if not thoroughly saturated."
Then I kissed the fair Mary as she still stood by Frederick's side, laughing and weeping both at once.
"My dear friend," said Harleston, "much am I joyed to see thee thus free from that bloody Tower. And now—though ere this I did fear to say so—I tell thee truly, I never thought to see thee here this night."
"But why?" I asked. "'Twas thou which sent the letter that did give unto me—with the noble assistance of this brave friend here—my liberty," and I slapped Michael—who had tied the horses beneath the trees by the corner of the building, and now stood near me—on his huge arm.
"Do but come in and close the door, and I will tell thee all, in as few words as possible; for the time we have is short."
"Art not afraid to flee with me, my fair one?" I asked; and I drew Hazel closer to my side, as we were passing down the hall.
"Nay, nay, Walter dear; to the end of the world would I go with thee. When love, such as is mine, is in the heart it leaveth no room for fear. Mine only desire now is that we may, with all expediency, avoid our enemies; and when the Earl of Richmond doth conquer the bloody Richard, then may we return to happiness and have our dreams of other days fulfilled."
"Mine own dear, trusting love," I murmured, as I stooped and kissed her forehead.
The ex-Queen had waited up the whole long night that she might see if I did succeed in escaping from the Tower. How worn and sorrow-stricken she did look as I knelt and kissed her hand.
"I thank God, Sir Walter, that thou hast escaped the murderous boar," she said, in her kind and motherly way.
"So do I too, madam; for besides mine own wrongs I have yet to make a great effort and redeem mine oath made to the good King Edward, your noble husband. When my good friend here and I rode from Berwick unto the Castle at Windsor his Majesty did give unto us each a present worthy of the giver. At that time, madam, we both did swear to avenge any wrong that ever did transgress upon your royal son, our late lamented little King. Much time hath passed and still he's unavenged; but if the life within me be spared I'll yet strike a hard blow against his cruel and bloody murderer."
"Ay, ay, we will," assented Frederick.
"He'll doie fer the murtherin' o' the little darlin'," growled Michael from behind my back, where he towered like some grim monument.
I shamed to confess that I had forgot my faithful squire, until his voice recalled him to my mind.
"Madam, I beg that thou wilt permit me to make known unto thee the truest heart, as well as the strongest arm, in all England. Courage, loyalty, generosity and strength are all that do unite in this, your faithful servant." And I led Michael, who blushed like a maiden, before Elizabeth.
She spoke some kindly words unto him, and gave him her hand to kiss.
On his knee his head was still as high as hers.
Gently he kissed the dainty fingers lying in his mighty palm, and then he arose without a word.
Why, oh why, are not the kings and rulers of men born with hearts like Michael's? Thy praises, oh my faithful squire, should be sung by masters skilled in the art of playing upon the sympathetic strings of the living harp, in place of the task, so full of possibilities, being left to the feeble hand of such an one as I. But then, who knows as well as thine old master the workings of that great heart whose every throb is one of loyalty?
But come, Sir Walter, hasten along in the path where lies thy story, and tarry not, like some gossiping old wife, at every house along the way, telling some news that helps thee not unto thy destination.
"I have more ill news for thee, Sir Walter," said Elizabeth, when Michael had arisen and resumed his former place, glad to be no longer the object on which we all did gaze.
"Heaven forbid!" I exclaimed devoutly.
"Nay, Heaven doth forbid no woe to fall upon mine untimely silvering head; and it is but just that I should have my punishment."
"But what new calamity may this be, madam?"
"Word reached me a week ago that my little Richard hath disappeared from the Sanctuary in France, where my son, the Marquis of Dorset, left him.
"But comes the news from a trusty source?"
"Yes, from Dorset himself. It happened thus, he says:—
"Near-by where stands the Sanctuary there a great mount doth lift its rugged brow far above the natural level of the earth. Here did my little Prince delight to stroll and watch the sparkling waters far, far beneath his feet, rush in their tumbling haste from rock to rock along their never-ceasing course. Here last was he seen sitting, as was sometimes his wont, upon a boulder beneath a scraggling bush that there doth grow. At set of sun he came not to the house; so the good folk there went out to bring him in. Nowhere could they find him; and now 'tis thought he fell by accident, or intent, down, down into the cruel waters at his feet. From that day since he hath not been found; but his hat was by a traveller picked up and brought into the Sanctuary.
"Now my little Princes both have gone to join their father, and I—though God knows why—remain upon the earth.
"If little Richard be dead—the which must be only too true—we will make the Earl of Richmond King. Then shall my daughter, Elizabeth, be his Queen. This is all I can now hope for; but it shall be the means of ridding England of blood-supping tyrants, and shall give unto me my long-desired revenge.
"Lord Stanley is now at the head of a strong force, and is marching from the North, apparently to meet the tyrant near by Leicester.
"Richmond is now well on his way to London; and as he comes great numbers flock unto his standard.
"Stanley will, at the last moment, leave the Usurper to his fate and side with the Earl.
"Sir Frederick, here, leaves this morning to join Lord Stanley.
"This evening, when thou dost return with our dear Hazel here, I can give thee a letter to the Earl. I would send it by Sir Frederick, but I do desire to give Earl Henry full particulars of the force that Richard doth take with him along. The powers of the Usurper's friends Richmond already knoweth. Mine agents shall bring in the desired information concerning the forces of the Usurper as soon as Richard doth leave the city."
"Then everything goeth well, so far as preparations are concerned, madam.
"About what time doth Richard march?"
"Soon after sun-up he did intend to go; at least so said the order given to me," replied Harleston.
"Then we will return before the set of sun.
"But what, madam, is your opinion of this same strange letter?"
"Truly, Sir Walter, I knew not of it until Sir Frederick told me its strange contents."
I then showed it to her in the hope that she might recognize the hand.
With great care did she observe the writing; then she raised her head and said:—"It looketh not unlike the hand of my Lord Stanley; though there is a tremble here not his. Mayhap he did disguise his hand to guard him from the danger of its falling into other hands than Sir Frederick's."
"And, Frederick, what dost thou think?" I asked.
"Verily, Walter, I was about to tell thee at the door—and since it had escaped my mind—of how I did mistrust that same packet until I saw ye both arrive safe and free." Then it was that he told me of his meeting Catesby as he left the Palace.
"And dost thou think it safe to go unto this house mentioned in the writing?"
"Well, since the rest of the directions have been so trustworthy I can see no danger in following the remainder. Besides," he continued, "there seemeth to be no other way so secure."
"Well, as no more time may be spared, methinks we had better start. I shame to doubt the writer's good intent, after the great favour he hath done me.
"Say farewell, for the present, my dear. We shall be back this evening."
Tenderly the ex-Queen embraced Hazel; and as I knelt she laid her gentle hand upon my head and said:—
"God protect thee, Sir Walter, and send thee back to me, with yon fair child, which loveth thee so dearly, safe to her widowed foster mother."
"Amen," said I softly, from the bottom of my heart.
"Farewell, dearest Hazel, and may the angels guard thee from, and strike dead those which could so much as harm thee with a thought," sobbed loving little Mary, as the two dear girls embraced and kissed each other.
"Farewell, Frederick," said Hazel—for now she looked on him as her big brother, and spoke unto him as such—"I may not again see thee until the fate of us all hath been decided. May Heaven bless thee and bring thee back to this dear girl, safe and victorious. And then may our old happy days that passed like sunbeams in the park at Windsor be repeated without disturbing interruption."
This was a confirmation of my suspicion that Harleston had asked Mary that question which is the London-stone in the lives of us all, and she had made the promise that I could, long months since, have told she would.
"Farewell, dear lady," returned Frederick, whilst Mary took advantage of his speech in trying to regain her wonted complexion; "I hope to see thee again ere a fortnight be past. One great battle shall decide our fate; and what that will be I am assured of."
Then turning to me he said:—"We shall meet, no doubt, in the ranks of the conquering Richmond. Till then farewell, my dear friend."
"Farewell, Frederick, we shall meet near Leicester; that is if Richard there awaits the Earl."
I kissed Mary, and she and Harleston did bid farewell to big Michael.
Then we proceeded to where our horses waited, Michael bearing upon his arm a basket, in which was our food for the day.
The morning was now well dawned, and the red bars from the fiery sun were glancing along the floor of Heaven in beauteous ribbons, like the gay trappings of a May-pole.
Hazel's palfrey was now brought up; and as we mounted and rode off, the little group at the door still stood and waved a silent, fluttering farewell.
We rode on in silence until we came to the turning that we should take, were we to be guided by the letter.
"This is the cross road mentioned in the packet. What think ye now of the writer? Dost trust him?" I asked.
"I trust him, and yet I feel some fear. I know not why; but a nameless something doth stir up in my mind a dread of some calamity."
"Shall we then go search for some place for ourselves?"
"Oh, no! It must be but foolish maiden timidity. Let us proceed and trust the letter, after the way that it hath rescued thee."
So we turned unto our right and, as the letter had said, we came, after travelling some three miles, upon a large house set back some distance from the road. From a window in the upper story a small flag of England did hang lazily. The house looked as it had been described—unoccupied; so feeling re-assured we rode into the grounds. I then held Michael's steed whilst he went forward and tried the door. It was unlocked; so he entered. He then returned, at my call, and reported everything as well, so far as he could see, though he desired to inspect it further ere we entered. This I did consider to be unnecessary. We then tied our horses to some trees near the door, and walked in.
The room was large and square, and in the centre a round pillar arose from floor to ceiling. The furniture consisted of a long and broad, heavy oaken table and some three or four chairs, scattered carelessly around the room. Several closed and heavy doors, leading to where we knew not, were set into the walls at irregular intervals. The general appearance of the interior gave one the impression of recent occupation; though now it did seem undoubtedly to be vacant.
Michael placed the basket upon the table, and we at once proceeded to make ourselves comfortable.
"Ah! my dear, we shall have a pleasant holiday, and in the evening return. Our dear friend, Master Catesby, shall arrive at Westminster to find that the bird hath flown. Then he may curse his misfortune and proceed to join his murderous master. Pray God I do but meet him in the field. Then shall there be no truncheon to be flung down to stop our fight, as was done at the tournament."
"Yes, Walter dear, methought that thou hadst killed him when, with your great sword, you drove him senseless from his horse."
"But how didst thou see the tournament?" I asked in wonderment.
Her cheeks then flushed, and she became as confused as a child caught fairly in a trap. She glanced imploringly at Michael; but he seemed greatly occupied with the buckle of his sword belt.
"What! is it possible that thou wert one of the old ladies to whom Michael did show such attention?"
"In faith, Walter, thou hast guessed it; though I did not intend to tell thee yet."
"And was Mary the other?"
"Yes."
"Oh, ye are sly ones. And here is Michael also in the plot."
"Beg pardon, sor, but Oi tould ye the truth."
"Yea, that thou didst; but in your own peculiar way," I laughingly replied.
"Yes, Walter, Michael but did what we did ask of him, and therefore the whole blame belongs to Mary and me," said Hazel, as she came and patted me on the cheek. "Art not cross now?" she asked.
"Nay, but Frederick and I will bring ye to account when next we all do meet."
Soon we sat us down to the pleasantest meal that, methinks, ever had I partaken of. Clear of the gloomy Tower, and free, and there by my side the truest and most trusting maid upon the earth's broad face. And there was our huge Michael at the other side, eating and watching us with admiring eyes. Verily, my dears, no happier trio ever sat together, chatting like children at an outing. Hazel's dainty fingers had put each morsel in most tempting shape, and to add aught to her arrangement had been as difficult as to improve on the delicacy of soft moonlight, strained through the misty alabaster curtains of the Heavens.
"Now if Mary and Frederick were but here would it not be like our old happy days at the Palace at Windsor?" asked Hazel.
"Yea, indeed it should, but even more happy; for our troubles that are now past make us to appreciate happiness the more."
And so we talked on and were happy in our assurance that all should now be well and smooth, and after the battle we would go to mine old house that had stood waiting for its young master for many a day.
Then suddenly I heard a sound that startled me, and caused grave doubts as to our safety. It sounded not unlike a low whistle, and coming from some room within the house.
Michael's quick ear had heard it also; for he glanced anxiously first to me and then to Hazel. She too had heard it, and her face changed from its merry smile to a startled look of fear.
"Didst thou not hear that whistle, Walter dear?" she asked in alarm.
"What whistle, dearest?" I asked, that I might allay her fears. "'Twas but thine imagination playing upon thine ears; 'twas nothing."
"Nay, 'twas no imagination; 'twas real,—and hark!—there again it is."
This time there could be no mistaking the sound. Methought it came from one of the three rooms that did adjoin the large one in which we were.
"Do thou go, Michael, and with great care open yon door and see if that room be occupied," I said in a whisper to my squire.
Drawing his heavy sword he advanced cautiously, and, turning the knob, he thrust the door wide open, whilst he remained at the threshold.
This room was empty; but on the opposite side from where stood Michael was another door, and to the right of this, in the other wall, was yet another.
Then I heard a slight click at the lock of the door by which we had entered the house. I drew my sword and walked to this door and tried to open it. It was locked.
Then the whole plot flashed upon my mind. This then was Catesby's plan for getting both Hazel and me within his power. No wonder that he did laugh as Harleston left the courtyard. Well might he laugh; for never did a trap work with more success than did this clever one, laid by this most ingenious scoundrel.
I went to the window and tried to loosen some of the bars that ran across the square. Even the great Michael's strength should here be of no avail. The bars were very heavy, and firmly imbedded in the masonry, of which the lower part of the house was made.
I watched the doors leading from the room in the expectancy that they were about to fly open and a band of men rush in to do their work. Still they did remain closed. Michael still stood before the open door, awaiting mine instructions.
After waiting for a few moments with the painful feeling that one has when convinced that the eyes of a concealed foe are on him, watching his every move, I walked to the great table and, placing my sword upon it, I moved it back across one of the corners of the room; thus forming a frail barricade to protect my dear Hazel.
I then placed my dagger in her hand and said:—"Be brave my dearest, and if thou seest that thou canst not escape with honour, thou knowest the use of this little weapon. However, so long as thou seest hope, refrain from its use; for even in our position no one can tell what the result may be."
"Fear not, Walter dear, unless I may be thy spotless bride my husband shall be death."
"Mine own dear, brave, little maiden," I murmured, and placed her, with a loving kiss upon her brow, behind the—in some measure—protecting table.
I then took up my good sword and, holding it at arm's length to test its reach, I said to Michael:—
"Do thou go, good Michael, to yon door, and see if there be any one within the room behind it."
"Oi will, sor." And he crossed the inner room in three good lengthy strides.
This door was unfastened, so he opened it as he had done the other, except that this one opened towards him, and still stood he upon the threshold.
"Sure, yer honour, thare's anither door here, sor."
"Open it also, Michael;" though the next moment I had rather have cut the tongue from my throat than have uttered those words.
Michael had just disappeared into this second unexplored room when, with a crash, the door that had remained closed in the room adjoining where Hazel and I waited flew open, and several armed men rushed in.
"Beware Michael! come back! come back!" I cried in warning.
Ere he could obey, however, the door was closed and securely locked and barred behind him. At the same instant the room in which I stood was filled with soldiers, which entered by the other doors.
"Come on, ye pack of cowards! Why do ye hesitate? Do ye fear the single sword of one good knight? Come on, I say, ye pack of sneaking wolves that fear to attack, and yet stand in a circle round and growl!" I cried in defiance at them.