“Nay, madam,” Raleigh answered quietly, “since the very clauses they excepted to were those which did declare the king’s first marriage illegal, and his present one legal. Of what profit would it be to swear allegiance to the Princess Elizabeth and, in the same breath, to refuse her legitimacy? It may not be. We must have a settled succession; if the king have not male issue, I fear me there will be war in any case. Besides the Lady Mary and the troubles that my Lady Salisbury is like to hatch in the cause of the White Rose, there is the King of Scots, and verily no English stomach can digest him and not vomit.”
“Nay, forsooth!” exclaimed Sir William; “there shall be no Scotch dressing to an English pudding while there is a sword in Devonshire. If the king could but get a boy there might be an end in peace, but as it is, one girl child set up against another, and one-half the kingdom crying ‘Mary,’ the other ‘Elizabeth,’ and so blood and fire from Land’s End to the Tweed, and, eftsoons, the King of Scots!”
“Friend Carew, let not thy posset burn, for all that,” said Master Raleigh, smiling, for in his vexation Sir William had well nigh forgotten his brewing.
“’Tis ready,” Carew answered, taking it from the fire; “Cicely, wench, hast ground the amber and sugar for it?”
As he spoke, there was a great stir without, the sound of hurrying feet and voices. The group by the fire paused in their talk to listen, and looked down toward the door at the lower end. In a moment it was opened and an attendant came swiftly across the hall and addressed Sir William, who still stirred the posset while Mistress Cicely sprinkled the amber over it.
“A messenger from London, your worship,” the servant announced hurriedly, “and he craves leave to speak with you at once.”
“From whom?” asked Carew, shortly.
“My lord privy seal,” replied the man, in an awestricken tone.
Sir William’s face showed both surprise and anxiety, but his manner changed but little.
“Where have you got him?” he asked.