WHAT CAME OF AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP
One thing had puzzled Francis upon her first arrival at the court. That was the number of those who had red hair. She soon came to know, however, that most of the ladies wore wigs of false hair over their own tresses out of compliment to the queen. The demand for hair was therefore great, and frequently the supply was not equal to it. Divers means were employed to obtain such locks, as the girl soon found to her sorrow.
“Where art thou from, my pretty page?” asked a lady one day pausing before her.
“Hampshire, an it please your ladyship,” answered Francis grateful for the attention. She thought the lady must have recently arrived else she would not stop to bandy words with one who was without the pale of the queen’s good will.
“Hampshire? Ah, yes! I passed through the shire once with Her Majesty on one of her 172 progresses,” remarked she. “My lad, know you that you are a pretty boy? But certes! of course you do. Nathless, hear it again from me.”
“I thank your ladyship,” returned Francis with blushing cheeks. “’Tis only your kindness that bids you so to speak.”
“Hear the boy!” laughed the lady, shaking her finger archly. “Nay; I shall not give thee more compliments, but I would have thee know that I am thy friend. I am aware that the queen regards thee with disfavor, and I would aid thee. If thou carest to know more come to the Round Tower which is the dormitory of the maids of honor this night. There is my bower. I am the Lady Priscilla Rutland. Know you the place?”
“Yes, my lady; but why, why?——” began Francis, but the lady interrupted her.
“Fie, fie, naughty boy! art thou so curious? Ask no more until to-night.” With a quizzical look she went on her way leaving the girl staring after her.
“What said the Lady Priscilla to thee?” demanded Edward Devereaux drawing near. 173 “Beware of her, Francis Stafford. She is full of wiles and deceit. ’Tis unseemly to speak ill of a woman, but I would fain warn thee. When Mistress Priscilla is most gracious she is bent on mischief. Therefore do I bid thee to beware of her.”
“Am I so rich in friends that I can cast from me one who proffers amity?” inquired the girl bitterly. “Who art thou, Master Devereaux, that thou sayst do this, or do that, and expect me to obey? Thou art mine foe, the son of my father’s foe. What hast thou to do with me?”
“The son of thy father’s foe, ’tis true,” answered Devereaux, “but not thine, Francis. I make no war on women though I did unwittingly strike thee once. I repent me that ever I claimed to have slain that deer. Yet hear me, mistress. Had the foresters not come as they did, I would have given thee the horns. I came to thy father’s castle to offer them to thee, but dost thou remember how didst greet me with scorn? And I, thinking thee to be thy brother, did answer in like manner.”
“Thou hast been long in the telling, master,” 174 remarked the girl scornfully. “Dost expect me to believe thee?”
“Upon mine honor it is the truth. But to the matter in hand. Believe me, ’tis for thy good to have naught to do with the Lady Priscilla Rutland. I have been longer at the court than thou and therefore know of that of which I speak.”
“I am tired of thy watching and prating,” declared Francis with spirit. “I am no child to be chidden. Leave me, and know that Francis Stafford will do as seemeth best to her.”
“As you will, mistress. But if you come to grief blame me not,” and the lad walked away.
“I hate him,” ejaculated the girl, her eyes filling with angry tears. “I hate him with his trite speeches and his sage advice! Why doth he not leave me in peace? I will go to the Lady Priscilla were it only to show him that I regard not his words.”
Nevertheless she could not but wonder why any lady should take such a sudden interest in her, and a slight misgiving lurked in her heart as she approached the Round 175 Tower, entered its portals, and made her way to the Lady Priscilla’s bower.
The lady was lying on a couch surrounded by her tire women.
“So, my pretty lad,” she said with a careless glance, “thou hast come. Didst thou not have enough of flattery? Gramercy! hath it not always been true that sugar would catch more flies than vinegar?”
“What mean you?” stammered Francis, her sensitive nature becoming aware of the change in the lady’s manner from the caressing sweetness of the morning to the mocking air of the moment.
“Didst think thy beauty had ensnared me?” queried the lady quizzically. “It hath. As the yellow metal of the earth hath always thrown a spell over men so the red gold of thy hair hath fascinated me. I dote on thy locks, my fair page. Ay! so much so that they and I shall ne’er be parted more. Celeste! Annabelle! have at him!”
“Why, why,” cried the girl, struggling to rise as the maids set upon her. “My lady! My lady!”
But strong as her outdoor life had made 176 her, she was no match for the damsels of the Lady Priscilla. Soon she lay back in her chair bound hand and foot.
“No harm is meant thee, master page,” remarked the lady as, armed with a huge pair of shears, she approached the maiden. “’Tis only that thy silken tresses have tangled my heart in their meshes until sleep hath fled my pillow. I think on their lustre day and night. And so do I take them to adorn mine own pate. Thinkest thou that they could cover a fairer head?”
“Oh, madam,” cried the girl tearfully as the shears snipped relentlessly over her head, for her hair had always been a weak point with her. “O, spare my hair, I entreat!”
“Fie, sir page! Thou dost shame thy manhood. True, thou art yet guiltless of beard, yet still thou shouldst not play the woman.”
“But, madam, I shall report this to the queen. What think you she will say when she knows that one of her ladies was guilty of this outrage?”
“She would not listen to thee, malapert. Should she do so, I would say that Priscilla Rutland knew no peace until she could emulate 177 in her own locks the regal color that crowned her august mistress’ brow. That she would stoop to do anything could she but faintly follow such beauty. But I fear not thy disclosure, sirrah. Art thou not in disgrace? Then what boots it what thou sayst?”
“True;” said Francis and opened her lips no more. Clip, clip, went the shears until at last all of her ringlets lay, a mass of ruddy gold, in a great heap among the rushes. Francis looked at them, and then at the mocking face of the lady, and her heart throbbed with wrath.
“Madam,” she said as the Lady Priscilla untied her bonds and she was once more free, “I will never forgive this.”
“Thou art rude, sirrah,” laughed the lady. “But I blame thee not. Be patient, master page. I will come to thee when thy locks have been woven into a wig and thou shalt see how well they become me.”
“Thou shalt never wear hair of mine,” cried Francis, white with anger. Before the lady or her maids could prevent she seized a lamp from one of the scones and threw it into the midst of red curls. 178
“Help! Help!” cried the lady and the maids simultaneously, for the lamp which was of the simplest manufacture, being a wick fed by oil, set fire instantly to the curls and surrounding rushes. Scattering to the right and left the maids called lustily: “Fire! Fire! Seize the boy!”
Staying only long enough to see that there was no probability of saving the hair, Francis dashed through the arras, and fled through chamber after chamber trying to find an exit.
“This way,” she heard a voice call as, bewildered and confused, she paused, not knowing which way to turn.
To her amazement, Edward Devereaux stood in a door of a chamber beckoning to her. She gave an exclamation of surprise but, enemy though she considered him, followed him without hesitation. Through a maze of rooms the boy led the way with the air of one to whom they were familiar; then down a flight of steps, through an open window and out upon a balcony that overlooked the great garden.
“We will conceal ourselves in the shrubbery,” he said vaulting lightly over the rail 179 into the garden below, followed closely by the girl. They stopped in the shadow of a clump of close clipped black yews. “Here we can remain,” he said, “until the hue and cry is over. What happened, Francis?”
Francis poured forth her story rapidly.
“I hate this vile court,” she cried with a burst of passionate tears as she concluded. “I want my home! Oh, I want to go home!”
“I blame you not, Francis Stafford,” said Edward Devereaux forbearing to taunt her with the fact that had she heeded his words this last misery would not have come upon her. “You feel as we all feel at times, yet are we constrained to bide here. Were it in truth to serve the queen, God bless her, there would be joy in staying. But to be at the beck and call of every noble; to bear the trains of the ladies or dance attendance upon them is not the life that a youth wishes. I pity thee, Francis, and thy plight is not so bad as it will be should yon tower burn to the ground.”
“Oh!” Francis looked up with startled eyes. “I did not think of that. It was not my intent to burn the tower. Think you that it is in danger, Edward?” 180
“Mayhap not,” answered the boy regarding the tower with anxious eyes. “We can but watch.”
The two stood looking at the building in silence. As the moments passed the lights disappeared from the windows, darkness settled over the tower, and all was quiet. Francis drew a long breath of relief.
“It was unthinking and unheeding in me to throw the light,” she said. “What if the building had burned? The castle might have followed and thus endangered the life of the queen. Oh, miserable girl that I am! What would my father say to me?”
“Be not so cast down,” comforted Edward. “Thou hadst great provocation, and pardon me, mistress, but thy temper is not of the gentlest.”
“I know,” said Francis with unwonted meekness. “But when I saw my hair, my pretty hair,” she paused, her utterance choked, unwilling to give way to her grief before him.
The boy touched the shorn head compassionately.
“’Twill not be long before it will grow again,” he said. “And so long as thou must 181 wear that garb it will be all the better. I have seen many longing glances cast at thy locks, Francis. ’Tis wonder that such mishap hath not occurred before. If thou dost not wear them, thou hast at least put it out of their power to grace the head of another. There is something in that.”
“Yes;” said Francis with a flash of spirit. “I would not that harm should come to the palace, yet glad am I that the tresses were consumed. Thou hast been kind to me, Master Devereaux. And yet thou art mine enemy!”
“Better an open enemy than a deceitful friend,” quoth Edward sententiously. “Say no more, Francis Stafford. If I have been of service to thee, let it in some measure atone for my churlishness in killing that deer. But we must to our several abodes else we shall bring the displeasure of my lord chamberlain upon us. We shall have enough to answer to this charge. I fear the issue to-morrow. Come!”