The house of the wizard

by Mary Imlay Taylor

“Where was the king’s grace to-day?” she asked in a low voice.

“I know not,” retorted Mary Wyatt, in a bitter tone, “but doubtless with that trollop Seymour!”

Betty asked no more questions, but went to her own room and said a prayer for the protection of Simon Raby from the man she hated; and after tossing for a while upon her pillow, fell asleep at last, as the first light of the winter morning dawned in a gray sky.

A little later, when the sun was rising, its rays shining but faintly through the heavy mist that was hanging over the scene, making the tall trees of Greenwich Park loom like spectral giants through the folds of vapor, Simon Raby set out alone to keep his engagement with Sir Barton Henge. Armed only with his rapier and muffled in a heavy cloak, he walked leisurely away from the palace, and proceeded through the more lonely portions of the park toward the river. His depression of the night before had passed with the darkness; Queen Anne’s vision concerned him too little to disturb his thoughts longer. As he passed beyond the immediate vicinity of the palace, he quickened his steps. Even at that early hour there was the stir of a great establishment awakening; he met a company of cooks and scullions running toward the royal kitchens, and several messengers rode out post-haste, for the day’s errands began early.

The spot appointed for the meeting was on the outskirts of the park near the river, and took Raby through the loneliest places. The morning fog cut off his vision beyond a short circuit as he advanced under the trees, and after a while all sounds from the palace ceased to reach his ears. His path grew narrow as he came in sight of the river and was surrounded by a low thicket where the underbrush had not been cleared away. The beautiful face and dark eyes of Mistress Betty filled his mental vision, and he walked on, careless of possible danger from a treacherous foe; it was not in his nature to take any precaution for his own safety. He was scarce twenty yards from the trysting-place when there was a crackling of dead branches on either side of him, and two masked men sprang out upon him. Unprepared as he was for the onslaught, he was too bold a soldier to be disconcerted, and his sword flew from the scabbard. Being swift of foot and agile, he evaded the heavier of his two assailants, and getting his back against a tree, made a fair defence. But it was two to one, and he had small chance to escape, and saw it. In the desperate struggle which ensued, he had no time save to parry the blows which were aimed at his throat. Then, remembering that he was near the river and boats might be passing even then, he shouted twice for help even while he fought with the courage of despair. The black masks with holes, through which shone the eyes of his assailants, their silence and their determination began to work upon him, and the cold perspiration stood out on his face. But with marvellous firmness he beat back their swords, the gleaming points of which began to dazzle his eyes. Once more, though sore spent, he shouted, and now there was an answer, a cry from the direction of the river. At the sound of it the stouter of the two villains turned and fled into the thicket, evidently having no mind to encounter a reinforcement; but the other engaged Raby the more fiercely. However, it was now an equal struggle, and Simon was giving thrust for thrust when a party of strangers broke through the thicket from the river side and the mask received so sharp a blow on the back of his head that he fell prostrate. Looking across the body of his stricken assailant, Raby recognized with amazement the manly figure of Lady Crabtree, her farthingale looped high and displaying her huge boots, while a stout staff was clasped in the great fist that had dealt the blow. Behind her were a group of her attendants and some watermen, all gaping at the scene in wide-mouthed curiosity.

“What gear is this, Raby?” she demanded, and stirred the unconscious man with her foot.

“A small matter, madam,” responded Simon; “two villains would have murdered me.”

At this, the fallen man began to move; and Lady Crabtree, bending down, tore the mask from the handsome dark face.

“Henge!” she exclaimed; “a pretty business and a pretty rogue! Now have we a chance to deliver him to the provost. Here, fellows, lend your hands and put this gentleman murderer in the barge.”

“Stay, madam,” said Raby, “this is my quarrel; let the villain go. He hath forfeited all right to meet a gentleman upon equal terms, and if you drag him into court, he will but blow abroad a matter which concerns a noble lady. Let the brute run to his kennel. He comes to himself. Is this your way to fight, Sir Barton?”