CHAPTER XVIII
JAMES, DUKE OF YORK
The clocks of Westminster were striking eight as I drew near the place I had been bidden to come in Whitehall. My heart beat fast at thought of what might happen to me, and of the commands which might be laid upon me, yet did I go on without faltering, for the more I wondered at the happening the more did I desire to know why I was commanded thither. The clock had barely ceased striking when a hand was laid upon my shoulder.
"Master Roland Rashcliffe," a voice whispered in my ear.
"You speak as if you know," I replied, and turning I saw a man of grave demeanour, and of somewhat sad countenance.
"Follow me. Ask no questions, and make no protest at aught you may see."
This he also said in a whisper, and although I obeyed him I liked not the secrecy of the business. As I passed along I noticed that many people were around, and that all seemed to be in gay humour and in gay attire. Truly the coming of the king had made a difference to London town. The whole city seemed to be given over to pleasure, and none of that solemn decorum which marked it a year before was now manifest.
We had not gone far when we left Whitehall and entered the park which lies behind. Here also were the same scenes of gaiety. Indeed, never had I seen so many gaily-dressed women in my life before. The park was in the summer of its loveliness, flowers bloomed on all sides, the trees were in wellnigh full leaf, the birds sang, while loud laughter, both among men and women, was to be heard continually. My companion paid no heed to any of these things, however. He strode quickly along, stopped at the door of one of the houses, and a minute later I stood behind him in one of the great houses. Without hesitation he led the way upstairs, and without ceremony entered a large room. As far as I could judge it had been but lately fitted up, for the things I saw were new, and shone with much splendour. Nevertheless, it did not look like a residence, but rather appeared to be a place where a man of authority might gather his friends around him. No one was in the room, and although it stood so near to Whitehall the utmost silence reigned, except that I thought that I heard whispering voices in an adjoining compartment.
"Do not dare to oppose him," said the man who accompanied me; "assent to all his commands, agree with all he saith, although your judgement will lead you otherwise. Above all be silent as death afterwards. Remember, he hath no mercy."