John Avery did not find himself mistaken; but it was not long ere Mr Underhill did so. He allowed that his Te Deum had been too soon, when on the 18th of December Archdeacon Philpot was burned. And the burnings in Smithfield were then not half over.
On the 12th of January, at Mr Underhill’s house in Wood Street, by Mr Carter, was christened little Anne Underhill, born on Epiphany Eve (see Note in Appendix). Her sponsors were Mr Ferris, Helen Ive, and Isoult Avery.
Ere this, a few days before Christmas, Mr Rose’s first letter had reached his wife’s hands. It brought the welcome tidings that he had arrived safely at Geneva, yet through such perils that he would not advise her to follow. When Isoult had read the letter, she remarked—
“I do see Mr Rose accounteth not himself to be lawfully divorced, for he maketh account of her as his wife all through the letter, and signeth himself at the end thereof, her loving and faithful husband.”
“Doth that astonish thee?” said John, laughing.
“Well, of a truth,” she answered, “I had thought the worse of him for any other dealing.”
Annis Holland came again in March to spend a day at the Lamb. On this occasion she told the rest of her story, or, it may rather be called, the story of Queen Juana. For many months after that first accidental meeting, she told them, she never again saw her royal mistress. But Doña Leonor Gomez, who was exceedingly loquacious when she had no fear of consequences, and sometimes when she had, told her that so long as she was in her right senses, nothing would ever induce the Queen to attend mass. To persuade her to do any thing else, they would tell her they acted under command of the King her father (who had in reality been dead many years); and she, loving him dearly, and not having sufficient acuteness left to guess the deceit practised upon her, would assent readily to all they wished, except that one thing. Even that influence failed to induce her to be present at mass.
“And one day,” said Annis, “about the Christmastide, two years gone, I was sitting and sewing in my chamber, Maria being forth, and I had been chanting to myself the hymn, ‘Christe Redemptor Omnium.’ When I had ended and was silent, thinking me alone, a voice from the further end of the chamber saith, ‘Sing again, Doña Ines.’ I looked up in very terror, for here was the Queen’s Highness herself. I marvelled how she should have come forth of her chamber, and what my Lord of Denia should say. ‘Señora,’ said I, ‘I kiss the soles of your feet. But allow me to entreat your Highness to return to your chamber.’—‘I will not return till you have sung to me,’ saith she. And she sat right down on the floor, and clasped her hands around her knees. So I had no choice but to sing my hymn over again. When I ended, she saith, ‘What means it, Doña Ines? Is it somewhat of our Lord?’—‘Ay, Señora,’ I made answer, ‘it is all touching Him,’—‘I understood the Church hymns once,’ she said; ‘but that was before the cuerda. Sing some more.’ Then I sang ‘Victimae Paschali!’ ‘Miserere!’ she repeated, dreamily, as if that word had woke some old echoes in her memory. ‘Ay de mi! child, I lack the mercy very sorely.’—‘He knoweth that, Señora,’ said I gently. ‘And His time is the best time.’ And she answered, as she had aforetime,—‘I would He would come!’ I knew scarce what to answer; but I had no time to answer at all, ere the door opened, which the Queen had closed behind her, and my dread Lord of Denia stood before me. ‘What is this, Señora?’ he said to her Highness. ‘Your Highness here!’ And turning to me, ‘Doña Ines,’ quoth he, ‘explain it if you can.’ I thought the wisest thing should be to speak very truth, as well as the right, and I told him even how matters stood with me. ‘I see,’ he answered. ‘You have not been to blame, except that you should have called immediately for help, and have put her back into her chamber. Rise, Señora!’ The Queen clasped her hands closer around her knees. ‘I am at ease here,’ she said. ‘And I want Doña Ines to sing.’ The Marquis took a step nearer her. ‘Alteza,’ he said, ‘I desire your Highness to rise. You should be ashamed—you, a Queen!’ She looked up on him with a look I had not seen in her eyes aforetime. ‘Am I a Queen?’ she said. ‘If so, a Queen captive in the enemy’s hands! If I be your Queen, obey me—depart from this chamber when you hear my “Yo la Reyna.” (Note 2.) Begone, señor Marques! Leave me in peace.’ ‘Señora!’ he answered, unmoving, ‘I am surprised. You are in your own Palace, where your father detains you; and you call it captivity! Rise at once, Señora, and return to your chamber.’ He spoke sternly and determinedly. The captive lioness heard the keeper’s voice, and obeyed. ‘My father—ay Don Fernando!’ she said only. And holding out both her hands to him, as a child should do, he led her away. After that, I saw her no more for many weary months. At times the terrible screams would arouse me from sleep, and then I prayed for her, that God would strengthen her, and ease the torment to her; but, above all, that God would take her. I trust it were not sin in me, Isoult. But if thou hadst seen her as I saw her!
“Well, I saw her no more until this last April. Then there came a night when the shrieks awoke me, more terrible than I had ever heard them yet. When Doña Leonor came into my chamber on the morrow, which was Good Friday, I asked if she knew the cause. She told me ay. Her Highness lay dying, and had refused to receive (that is, to receive the sacrament). Fray Domingo de Soto would not suffer her to depart without the host. While she yet talked with me, entered Doña Ximena de Lara, that had never been in my chamber afore, and alway seemed to hold her much above me. ‘Doña Ines,’ quoth she, ‘my Lord of Denia commands you to follow me quickly. The Queen is in a fearful frenzy, and sith she hath alway much loved music, and divers times hath desired you should be fetched to sing to her, my Lord Marquis would have you try whether that will serve to abate her rage.’
“‘And they gave her the cuerda?’ said I, as I followed Doña Ximena. ‘Ay, for two hours and more,’ saith she, ‘but alas! to no end. She refuseth yet to receive His Majesty.’ Know thou, Isoult, that these strange folk call the wafer ‘His Majesty’—a title that they give at once to God and the King. ‘They gave her the premia early last night,’ saith she, ‘but it was to no good; wherefore it was found needful to repeat the same, more severely, near dawn. Her screams must have been heard all over the town. A right woeful frenzy followed, wherein (she being ignorant of what she did) they caused her to swallow His Majesty. Whereupon, in the space of some few minutes, by the power of our Lord, she calmed; but the frenzy is now returned, and they think her very near her departing.’ In her Highness’ chamber a screen was drawn afore the bed, that I could not see her; but her struggles and her cries could too well be heard. My Lord of Denia stood without the screen, and I asked what it was his pleasure I should sing. He answered, what I would, but that it should be soft and soothing. And methought the Hymn for the Dead should be the best thing to sing for the dying.