THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS
Will was disposed to be taciturn on the way to Chartley. Francis did not know whether he suspected her design was more than to see Mary or not, but summoning all the finesse of which she was mistress she made herself as agreeable as she could, relating stories and incidents of the chase, until long before the plain which lay between Stafford and Chartley was crossed, Will’s surliness had vanished.
The sun was an hour high when they reached their destination. Chartley, grim and gray in the morning light, rose before them. The manor was large and roomy, surrounded by such a high wall that none, unless he were endowed with the wings of a bird, could scale its heights. A moat encompassed the whole. The castle with wall and moat forming a stronghold well suited to its present use as prison. 76
As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the portals Francis was surprised to see sentinels everywhere. Her spirit sank a little and her heart quailed as she noted all of the means employed to insure Mary’s safe-keeping.
“My father was right,” she thought. “To obtain entrance is not all. There will still be difficulty, I fear, in seeing her. What if she comes not to the garden? But courage! Poor lady! I marvel not that she doth wish to gain her liberty. Methinks I should die were I to be deprived of my freedom!” Thus she mused little dreaming that not many weeks would elapse ere she would be put to the test.
“There are the gardens,” said Will breaking in upon her thoughts. “’Tis there that I have often seen the queen. See, the guard is leaving.”
“Don’t they guard her through the day, Will?”
“Ay, master. But the sentinels stand not at the doors and windows as they do at night. The walls only are guarded through the day. There she is, forsooth.”
“I see her not, good Will.”
QUEEN MARY’S WIT GRASPED THE SITUATION
“In the main garden, master. To the right.”
Francis looked in the direction indicated and soon descried the form of a woman seated in a large rolling chair which was wheeled by an attendant. Along the walks of the garden they went pausing ever and anon to pluck some flower or the cherries which were ripening in the sun. For a moment only Francis gazed and then, before Will had time to say her nay, she leaped off from the wagon and bounded swiftly in the direction of the garden.
“Uds!” growled Will his mouth agape with astonishment. “Methought there was more to ’t than appeared,” and he went on to the kitchens.
Meantime Francis, trampling over flowers and vegetables in her haste, reached the side of Mary, and thrust into her hand the package of letters. Mary’s quick wit grasped the situation instantly. Concealing the papers about her she drew back from the seeming carter, crying in a loud voice for she saw one of the guards approaching:
“Well, what meaneth this? Forgive me,” 78 she whispered hurriedly, “if I seem angry. ’Tis but for thine own safety.” So saying she drew back still further from the kneeling girl exclaiming as the guard came up, “I know thee not, boy. Why dost thou trouble me?”
“I wished to see thee,” murmured Francis rising. “Forgive me. I wished——”
“There!” said Mary. “’Tis no matter. Barbara,” to her companion, “hast thou the purse? Give the lad a groat. Marry! thou art all alike. Ye wish bounty whether ye deserve it or not. Go, and trouble me no more.”
She turned as she spoke and without another glance at the girl passed back to the house. Francis stood looking at the coin for a moment undecided what to do for she saw that Will’s cart was nowhere in sight.
“Get thee gone,” said the guard coming toward her menacingly. He had overheard Mary’s remarks and noted her demeanor, and thought that the carter lad before him was really seeking to profit by Mary’s well-known generosity. “Go, fellow! or I will take thee to my master. And if thou troublest the lady again, I will run thee through with my rapier. Go!” 79
Without a word in reply, glad to have the matter end so, Francis followed him meekly as he led her to the kitchen doors where Will and other carters were busy unloading their wagons.
“With which of you came this fellow?” demanded the guard.
“With me, master,” spoke Will sullenly.
“See that he accompanies thee no more. ’Tis a mischievous wight and like to get into trouble. Quick with thy load. I wish to see thy cart safely beyond the gates.”
“Will,” said Francis when they were once more outside the gates, “art angry with me?”
“Ay! ’twere an ill turn that thou did serve me,” growled Will. “’Twere an ill turn, master.”
“Forgive me, and you shall have this groat that the queen gave me,” and Francis handed him the coin. “My lord, I know, will give me more to give thee.”
“Well, mayhap it be all right,” said Will somewhat mollified, “but you go no more, young master.”
“No, Will; I will not ask it of thee. I 80 have both seen and spoken with the lady. What more need I?”
“No more, I’ll be bound, master,” growled Will. “There was more in’t than seeing and speaking, I’ll warrant. But I ken none of it. Here we are at Stafford, master.”
“I thank you, Will, for your courtesy,” said Francis sweetly as she left him.
Lord Stafford was awaiting her return anxiously. He folded her close to his breast as she entered his chamber, saying earnestly:
“Thank Heaven, my daughter, that thou hast returned safely to me. Not for all the queens in the world would I have thee adventure such a thing again.”
“Why, ’twas naught,” laughed the girl. “Mary hath the letters now. ’Twas not hard to give them after all.” She recounted the whole affair.
“Well hast thou done, my child. There will need to be further communication with Mary, but not from us. We have done our part. No more of plots or conspiracies will I have, and never again will I subject thee to such danger. Now we will wend homeward to allay the anxiety of thy mother. Whenever 81 I have need of a quick wit and a nimble brain I will call on thee.”
“Glad am I to have pleased thee,” returned Francis. “There is naught that I would not undertake for thee, my father.”
“I believe it, Francis.”
The next morning early they set forth on the return journey. Lord Stafford seemed to have thrown aside the weight of misgiving that had oppressed him on his way thither, and was full of the gayest spirits. With laughter and story did he beguile the way, and once as he jestingly spoke of her attire, he said laughingly,
“Listen, Francis, and I will tell thee of another such an one. Hast thou ever heard how the serving man became a queen?”
“The serving man a queen?” cried the girl. “Why how could that be, father?”
“Listen, and you shall hear.” In a rich full voice he trolled the following ballad:
Francis laughed merrily when he finished.
“Poor Williame! but it ended well after all. Well, my days for man’s attire will soon be o’er.”
“’Tis to be hoped so,” answered her father. “Though the dress well becomes thee.”
At length, though they had returned by easier stages than they had performed the journey to Stafford, Lyndhurst was reached, and soon the turrets of Stafford Hall became visible.
“Home again, my child,” spoke Lord Stafford cheerily. “Right glad am I to enter 86 its gates once more. How is it with thee, Francis? Thou hast fared widely. Dost still revere thy home?”
“More than ever, my father. Never have I seen it look so beautiful. Even the stones seem to smile a welcome.”
“Marry, there stands my lady wife! Look, she sees us.”
With a cry of joy the lady ran to greet them.
“Ye are safe,” she cried embracing them. “Ah, but it hath been long, long since ye left. Methought something had befallen you.”
“No; my sweet wife. Weary we may be with the journey, and ready for the good cheer which we know awaits us, but well otherwise. How now, sweet chuck? Thou art pale, and even though thou hast us safe with thee, yet doth thy lip still quiver, and thy form tremble. What is it? Speak, madam, I beseech thee.”
“My lord, I wot not what to think of it, but to-day a messenger came from the queen saying that Elizabeth in her royal progress through Hampshire would honor us with a visit.” 87
“Elizabeth here?” cried Lord Stafford in astonishment. “Art sure?”
“Sure, my lord. What doth it portend? Is there hidden menace in the fact? Doth she suspect, think you, that Ballard hath been here? My lord, what can it mean?”
“Madam, I know not. We are her subjects. If Her Majesty chooses to visit us we can but receive her. But look not so pale. ’Tis but a matter of a few days’ entertainment, and surely we would do ill to be churlish of them. It is not the first time that royalty hath honored Stafford. Right well do I remember that Henry, Elizabeth’s bluff old father, favored us with a visit. With his own hand he brought down many a fat buck in yon forest park. Right well pleased was my father with that visit.”
“True, my lord; but he had favor with Henry, and had naught to fear.”
“And what is there to fear from his daughter? We must bestir ourselves to give the queen most royal welcome. Here she will not find the ‘princely pleasures of Kenilworth,’ but nathless! hearty welcome and good cheer are much even to a queen. 88 How now, girl! Thou dost not look displeased?”
“Neither am I, good my father,” spoke Francis quickly. With the natural instinct of youth she delighted at the prospect of the pleasures in store. “Glad will I be to see the queen even though she be old and not so beautiful as Mary.”
“Beshrew me, girl! let no such words pass thy lips,” cried her father in consternation. “’Twere treason, forsooth.”
“Have no fear. I will speak naught of that order to any save thee and my lady mother. Discreet am I and full of matter, but nothing will I disclose.”
“Thou hast need to be discreet,” replied her mother. “Be not malapert and froward, child.”
“Said the messenger when she was coming?” now asked the nobleman.
“On the third day from this, my lord.”
“’Tis but short notice for what must be done,” mused Lord Stafford. “Supplies must be obtained for the queen’s retinue, and pageants prepared to amuse her. Call Greville, my wife. Bid him hasten to the presence 89 chamber. Francis, repair to thy chamber and rest. Thou dost merit it. It will be thy part, madam, to attend to the ordering of the royal apartments. As for me there will be much to employ me during the next few days. Pray Heaven, that Ballard come not during the festivities.”