CHAPTER XV
THE DEVIL AT COURT
It was half-past two of the clock when Cicely, who carried her boy in her arms, accompanied by Emlyn, Thomas Bolle and Jacob Smith, found herself in the great courtyard of the Palace of Whitehall. The place was full of people waiting there upon one business or another, through whom messengers and armed men thrust their way continually, crying, “Way! In the King’s name, way!” So great was the press, indeed, that for some time even Jacob could command no attention, till at length he caught sight of the herald who had visited his house in the morning, and beckoned to him.
“I was looking for you, Master Smith, and for the Lady Harflete,” the man said, bowing to her. “You have an appointment with his Grace, have you not? but God knows if it can be kept. The ante-chambers are full of folk bringing news about the rebellion in the north, and of great lords and councillors who wait for commands or money, most of them for money. In short the King has given order that all appointments are cancelled; he can see no one to-day. The Lord Cromwell told me so himself.”
Jacob took a golden angel from his pouch and began to play with it between his fingers.
“I understand, noble herald,” he said. “Still, do you think that you could find me a messenger to the Lord Cromwell? If so, this trifle——”
“I’ll try, Master Smith,” he answered, stretching out his hand for the piece of money. “But what is the message?”
“Oh, say that Pink Pearl would learn from his Lordship where he can lay hands upon £1000 without interest.”
“A strange message, to which I will hazard an answer—nowhere,” said the herald, “yet I’ll find some one to deliver it. Step within this archway and wait out of the rain. Fear not, I will be back presently.”
They did as he bid them, gladly enough, for it had begun to drizzle and Cicely was afraid lest her boy, with whom London did not agree too well, should take cold. Here, then, they stood amusing themselves in watching the motley throng that came and went. Bolle, to whom the scene was strange, gaped at them with his mouth open; Emlyn took note of every one with her quick eyes, while old Jacob Smith whispered tales concerning individuals as they passed, most of which were little to their credit.