“Ay, surely,” replied Anne, with forced gayety, for the aspect of the place disturbed her; “we did not come so far to turn back like frightened children. My Lady Rochford, if you are afraid, you may even stay without with my two grooms.”
“I thank you, madam,” her sister-in-law retorted tartly; “I appreciate the company to which you assign me, but I am brave enough to follow where my sovereign leads.”
“Good lack!” said Anne, laughing bitterly; “how hapless should I be to lose so brave an attendant! Come, Francis,” she added, turning to her cousin, “you and Master Raby lead the way and we five women will follow, and remember that here I am not a queen, but only Mistress Anne.”
“Madam, your will is law,” replied Bryan; but although he had smiled at the fears of the women, he loosened his sword in the scabbard before he led the way up the narrow stairs, followed closely by the queen, who was assisted by Master Raby, and behind these three came the four maids of honor, while the two yeomen remained at the door.
The tedious ascent of the long staircase was made slowly, the queen stopping once or twice to complain that she was short of breath, being really discouraged from her plan but too wilful to surrender her whim. The stairs went straight up between two blank walls, having no landings or doors opening upon them. The steps were imperfectly lighted with tapers set in iron brackets at intervals all the way up.
“I marvel if Jacob’s ladder was any longer,” said the queen, laughing, as they came at last to the top.
At the head of the stairs a heavy curtain of black velvet hung before them, shutting off the rooms beyond. Sir Francis Bryan, lifting it, held the folds aside that the queen’s party might enter, and thus revealed a brightly lighted room decorated with dark tapestries and carpeted with ray-cloth. It was richly furnished, and on the table in the center stood a great crystal ball. From this room a short flight of stairs went up to the upper story, a narrow pointed door at the top cutting off the view.
“We must conjure the wizard, it seems,” Simon Raby said, as they looked about them at the empty room; and taking a few steps up the narrow stair, he struck the little door with his fist, after trying in vain to open it.
It was instantly unfastened, and the wizard himself stood on the threshold. Taken by surprise, Raby recoiled a step at the startling vision. The little man was arrayed in blood red from head to foot, his velvet doublet heavily embroidered in black, and on his breast, sparkling like an evil eye, was a splendid opal. He viewed his uninvited guests calmly, his keen glance instantly singling out the queen, though she had drawn back behind the others. Sanders smiled, coming down the steps to meet them.
“Sir Francis Bryan and Master Raby, you are welcome,” he said quietly; “these ladies, I see, would not be called by their names, but, even unknown, they are also welcome.”