“When I have seen thee in safety, I look to turn back to the Court.”
“Sweet welcome thou shalt find there!”
“Maybe—if I scale yet again the walls of Eltham Palace, where the King now abideth—as I sought in vain to do this last Christmas.”
“Scale the walls!—What to do, Ned?”
“What thinkest, Custance?”
“Ned! surely thou meanest not to take the King’s life? caitiff though he be!”
“Nay,” said Edward slowly; “scantly that, Custance—without I were forced thereto. It might be enough to seize him and lock him up, as he did to our Lord, King Richard.”
“I will have no hand in murder, caitiff!”
Constance spoke too sternly to be disregarded. And it was in her nature to have turned back to Windsor that moment, had she been left without reassurance that all would go right.
“Softly, fair Sister!—who spake of so horrid a thing? Most assuredly I mean no such, nor have any intent thereto.”