“Words in private!” repeated Catharine, as she stopped upon the terrace of the palace. “Well, then, fall back, my lords and ladies; we wish to receive his majesty’s mysterious message.”
The royal train silently and respectfully withdrew into the large anteroom of the palace, while the queen remained alone with John Heywood on the terrace.
“Now, speak, John.”
“Queen, heed well my words, and grave them deep on your memory! A conspiracy is forged against you, and in a few days, at the great festival, it will be ripe for execution. Guard well, therefore, every word you utter, ay, even your very thoughts. Beware of every dangerous step, for you may be certain that a listener stands behind you! And if you need a confidant, confide in no one but me! I tell you, a great danger lies before you, and only by prudence and presence of mind will you be able to avoid it.”
This time the queen did not laugh at her friend’s warning voice. She was serious; she even trembled.
She had lost her proud sense of security and her serene confidence—she was no longer guiltless—she had a dangerous secret to keep, consequently she felt a dread of discovery; and she trembled not merely for herself, but also for him whom she loved.
“And in what consists this plot?” asked she, with agitation.
“I do not yet understand it; I only know that it exists. But I will search it out, and if your enemies lurk about you with watchful eyes, well, then, I will have spying eyes to observe them.”
“And is it I alone that they threaten?”
“No, queen, your friend also.”