All this makes Guy in desperate haste to give her warning of her danger at the hands of Ridolfi, Alva’s agent in London.
So, taking horse again, though thoroughly tired by his long ride from Sandwich, the young Englishman finds himself in the early evening at the palace of Hampton Court. There getting quick audience with Cecil, Lord Burleigh, he gives him the cipher letters from Vitelli to Ridolfi, and also the key furnished by Oliver.
Upon Guy’s hastily mentioning the purport of these letters, his lordship, with a very serious face, says: “You have done a great service to the State. But I imagine you have been riding all day. I will see that you have supper and refreshment,” and summoning a lackey, gives order to this effect. “By the time you have finished making yourself comfortable, I and my under-secretary will have translated and transcribed these letters for the Queen’s private eye. These you shall present in person to your sovereign, as is your right.”
This arrangement is very satisfactory to the young man, who has been in the saddle twelve hours and has partaken of but hasty refreshment on the road.
So an hour afterward Guy, his body made comfortable with food and his spirits heightened by wine, accompanies Lord Burleigh, who now holds England in his grasp, having the favor and confidence of his sovereign, to Queen Elizabeth’s waiting room, where they are received in rather off-hand style by Her Majesty of England, who is in great fashion of jeweled stomacher, above which her white shoulders glitter with necklace of pearls and diamonds. Very vain, as she has a right to be, as daughter of Anne Boleyn, the beauty of her father’s court, she stands in kirtle and long train covered with aglets inlaid with precious stones and high-heeled Spanish shoes, making a great show of vanity, sprightliness, dignity and domination. In short, she is good Queen Bess, at her best and bravest—at thirty-five—at her zenith—before age gets the better of her beauty and her temper.
“My good Burleigh,” she says, “what a hasty man you are. I have but just received your communication [[114]]saying time was important, and have omitted five courses of my supper and sent my tiring women where their prying ears will not catch private conference. And you, Master Chester, my robber of the sea, have you discovered another eight hundred thousand crowns of Alva’s money within my jurisdiction and government?”
“No,” answers Burleigh, as the two bow before her, “Master Chester has simply discovered a plot of my Lord of Alva against your life. These letters from Vitelli, his maréchal de camp and confidant to Ridolfi, the Italian banker of London, prove it.”
“Oho! in cipher,” says the Queen, looking at them.
“Yes, but thanks to Master Chester’s being willing to risk his life for Your Majesty again, he has obtained the cipher in Antwerp. These letters are now transcribed into English.”
“Quick—let me see!” And Elizabeth, sitting down and hastily glancing them through, cries out: “So they would poison me, and put that traitor Norfolk on the throne as consort to the lady whom I hold in my hand. That settles Norfolk! He was yesterday condemned for high treason by the Lords. These letters, my Burleigh, are his death warrant. With the lady I’ll reckon afterwards, and as for Ridolfi—”