Chapter Thirty.
Bearding a lion.
The King walked swiftly on in the direction of that portion of the castle where he had lodged his guest, the polished oak boards of the floor resounding beneath his heavy tread, while the chamberlain heard him keep muttering to himself as he went, till he reached a portion where a couple of officers stood on duty by a heavy door, ready to challenge them; but seeing in the half darkness who their visitors were, they drew back saluting, and opened the doors to allow them to pass.
“Your Majesty,” said the chamberlain, in a low tone, as they began passing down an inner passage, and Henry read in his voice a protest against the action he was taking.
“Have done with your scruples,” he said. “I am not going to assassinate Francis, or even do him ill, only to make sure.” And he proceeded on his way, motioning to another officer, who came forward and saluted, to resume his post.
Turning at right angles, and going some distance further on, the King stopped again.
“It should be here,” he said quietly, and he moved towards a wide arched door, but drew back suddenly, for a figure emerged from the shadow into the full light, naked sword in hand.
“You cannot pass,” said the sentry.