“Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey! As your majesty knows, I am a merry and harmless woman; and I understand better how to laugh and joke than to talk much seriously. The two noble and fair ladies have accused the duke, my father; and they have done so in a very dignified and solemn manner. I wish to accuse my brother, Henry Howard; but you must exercise forbearance, if my words sound less solemn and elevated. They have told you, sire, that the Duke of Norfolk is a traitor and a criminal who denominates the Pope of Rome, and not you, my exalted king, the head of the Church. Now, the Earl of Surrey is neither a traitor nor a papist; and he has neither devised criminal plots against the throne of England, nor has he denied the supremacy of the king. No, sire, the Earl of Surrey is no traitor and no papist!”
The duchess paused, and looked with a malicious and droll smile into the astonished faces of those present.
A dark frown gathered on the king’s brow, and his eyes, which just before had looked so cheerful, were now fixed with an angry expression on the young duchess.
“Why, then, my lady, have you made your appearance here?” asked he. “Why have you come here, if you have nothing further to say than what I already know—that the Earl of Surrey is a very loyal subject, and a man without any ambition, who neither courts the favor of my people nor thinks of laying his traitorous hands on my crown?”
The young duchess shook her head with a smile. “I know not whether he does all that,” said she. “I have indeed heard that he said, with bitter scorn, that you, my king, wanted to be the protector of religion, yet you yourself were entirely without religion and without belief. Also, he of late broke out into bitter curses against you, because you had robbed him of his field-marshal’s staff, and given it to Earl Hertford, that noble Seymour. Also, he meant to see whether the throne of England were so firm and steady that it had no need of his hand and his arm to prop it. All that I have of course heard from him; but you are right, sire, it is unimportant—it is not worth mentioning, and therefore I do not even make it as an accusation against him.”
“Ah, you are always a mad little witch, Rosabella!” cried the king, who had regained his cheerfulness. “You say you will not accuse him, and yet you make his head a plaything that you poise upon your crimson lips. But take care, my little duchess—take care, that this head does not fall from your lips with your laughing, and roll down to the ground; for I will not stop it—this head of the Earl of Surrey, of whom you say that he is no traitor.”
“But is it not monotonous and tiresome, if we accuse the father and son of the same crime?” asked the duchess, laughing. “Let us have a little variation. Let the duke be a traitor; the son, my king, is by far a worse criminal!”
“Is there, then, a still worse and more execrable crime than to be a traitor to his king and master, and to speak of the anointed of the Lord without reverence and love?”
“Yes, your majesty, there is a still worse crime; and of that I accuse the Earl of Surrey. He is an adulterer!”
“An adulterer!” repeated the king, with an expression of abhorrence. “Yes, my lady, you are right; that is a more execrable and unnatural crime, and we shall judge it strictly. For it shall not be said that modesty and virtue found no protector in the king of this land, and that he will not as a judge punish and crash all those who dare sin against decency and morals. Oh, the Earl of Surrey is an adulterer, is he?”