And now, when he knew that Pym, the inspiration and leader of these unruly gentlemen, was daring to strike at his own especial friend—minister and favourite, the man who was at once his guide and mouthpiece—he was bewildered by his intense inner fury, and pride as well as justice made him regret that he had summoned the Earl to London.
He gazed at the Queen where she stood in golden shadow, and these thoughts tormented him bitterly.
He knew her mind; her temper was even more despotic than his, and armed force was the first and only weapon she would have ever used in dealing with the people; her counsels were ever for the high hand, the haughty command, the merciless sword, and always the King hearkened to her. But his nature was more subtle, involved, and secretive than hers, and he knew better than she did the growing strength of the forces opposed to him; therefore he had often endeavoured to cope with his difficulties after a fashion she called irresolute and unstable.
The Queen broke the heavy silence.
"Strafford will come and we will protect him," she said; "that is enough."
"Nay, not enough," replied Charles, "for I must be avenged on these men who seek to touch my lord."
"Hadst thou hearkened to me," she murmured in a melancholy voice, "thou hadst been avenged on all these long since."
"Ay, Mary," cried the King earnestly, "we are not in a realm as loyal and steadfast as France, but rule a country that hath become a very hive of sedition, discontent, and treason, and it is well to tread cautiously."
"Caution is not a kingly virtue," said Henriette Marie, with that same sad sweetness of demeanour that was so exquisite a cloak for reproof.