“Then wouldst thou depart the Court, Jack?” said I.
“I? Nay, sweet heart. The young King hath about him no more true men than he needeth. And as I wait at his coucher, betimes I can drop a word in his ear that may, an’ it please God, be to his profit. He is yet tender ground, and the seed may take root and thrive: and I am tough gnarled old root, that can thole a blow or twain, and a rough wind by now and then.”
“Jack!” cried I, laughing. “‘A tough gnarled old root,’ belike! Thou art not yet of seven-and-thirty years, though I grant thee wisdom enough for seventy.”
“I thank you heartily, Dame Cicely, for that your courtesy,” quoth he, and made me a low reverence. “Ay, dear heart, a gnarled root of cross-grained elm, fit for a Yule log. I ’bide with the King, Sissot. But thou wist, that sentence (argument) toucheth not thee, if thou desire to depart with Dame Alice. And maybe it should be the best for thee.”
“I depart from the Court, Jack, on a pillion behind thee,” said I, “and no otherwise. I say not I might not choose to dwell elsewhere the rather, if place were all that were in question; but to win out of ill company at the cost of thy company, were to be at heavier charge than my purse can compass. And seeing I am in my duty therein, I trust God shall keep me from evil and out of temptation.”
“Amen!” saith Jack, and kissed me. “We will both pray, my dear heart, to be kept out of temptation; but let us watch likewise that we slip not therein. They be safe kept that God keepeth; and seeing that not our self-will nor folly, but His providence, brought us to this place, I reckon we have a right to ask His protection.”
Thus it came that I tarried yet in the Queen’s household. And verily, they that did so, those four next years, had cause to seek God’s protection.
On the first of February was—but, wala wa! my pen runneth too fast. I must back nearhand a month.
It was the seventh of January, being the morrow of the Epiphany, and three days after we reached Westminster, that the Queen met the King’s Great Council, the which she had called together on the eve of Saint Barbara (December 3rd), the Duke sitting therein in state as keeper of the kingdom. Having opened the said Parliament, the Duke, by his spokesmen, my Lords of Hereford and Lincoln, laid before them all that had taken place since they last met, and bade them deliberate on what was now to be done for the safety of the realm and Church of England. (Note 7). Who at once adjudged the throne void, and the King to be put down and accounted such no longer: appointing certain nobles to go with the Duke to show these things unto the Queen.
Well do I mind that morrow of the Epiphany. The Queen sat in the Painted Chamber, spinning amongst us, when the nobles waited upon her. She had that morrow been full furnish, sharply chiding Joan de Vilers but a moment ere the Duke entered the presence: but no sooner came he in than she was all honey.