The rougher sports for the lads and lasses took place in the Park, and here Sir Miles and his brother-in-law found scope for all their energies, in keeping order among the crowd, and preventing the whole affair from developing into a wild orgie.
When at last the games came to an end, and everybody who had taken part in them had gone home thoroughly tired out, Sir Miles and Master Marvin were at liberty to cast up the cost of the day's frolic, which they found to be rather heavier than they expected. They were bruised, and stiff, and sore from their exertions, and the kicks they had received in their efforts to keep the lads within bounds.
"There is something to be said for your reformers and their dislike of these holiday games," remarked Sir Miles when he had limped home, and given some account of the day's doings. "By my troth, we English people are a masterful race, as my master, the Cardinal, used to remark. At least it, must be so, if the way these lads of Greenwich play their games may be taken as indicating how they will act in graver matters," added the gentleman.
Sir Harry Guildford laughed. "Ah! we need taming," he said.
"Nay, leading," retorted Miles. "But who is to do it, unless we gain the mastery over ourselves, for ourselves, and for love's dear sake? I trove those who essay the mastery of this nation will receive many kicks and cuffs in the doing of it, and then achieve but a poor success."
"Miles, are you hurt," said Lady Paton, in a serious tone; but her husband would not own to it, saying he had spent a most joyous day, and learned more than one useful lesson in the course of it.
Everybody seemed to have enjoyed themselves; and it was hoped that the one shadow that had marred the sports at the Palace would soon pass away, for the King had sent for the Queen to Westminster, and so it was hoped that a reconciliation between the royal pair would now take place.
Sir Harry Guildford brought this little bit of gossip home from the Palace shortly after the Queen had started in the royal barge on her journey to Westminster the next morning. The little lady, Elizabeth, had not accompanied her mother, and one of her ladies had told a friend that the Queen seemed full of sadness when she went away. But no one paid much attention to this, for the Queen had been out of health and out of spirits ever since the disaster of February; but now all would be well, and there would be a renewal of the merry May games when the King and Queen came back together.
Alas! before sunset, the news came that the Queen had been arrested. "Arrested!" repeated one and another in blank astonishment, for the news fell like a thunder-clap upon the town. The people only knew their King as a pleasure-loving, merry-hearted monarch, and he liked them to think of him thus; and the other side of his character that was now coming into action was only known to a few of his council, or to those who had dared to cross him in any of his projects and pleasures. To the townsfolk, therefore, it was almost unbelievable that their light-hearted monarch could have ordered the Queen's arrest. "What has the poor lady done but mope a little since her illness," they asked one of the other; while some were disposed to think it was simply an idle tale of the servants who had attended her and brought back the news.
But it soon came to be known that it was too true, and that the Queen was a prisoner in the Tower on the charge of being unfaithful to the King. "They will say you have been unfaithful to me, good dame," said Sir Harry to his wife, when he brought home this news from the palace.