"All courtesy, sir."
"You abandon that woman's service?"
"Otherwise, my dear father, you would have been shot in her very
presence."
"You take service with me?"
"His Grace of Ulster loses the old acumen. Was there ever a time,
sir, when a son of our honourable house failed to go over to the
winning side? Come. I must get you out of this garden. Your life
is not safe. And keep your eyes about you when we enter the Palace."
"Jim, are you playing fair with your father?"
"Time will show that."
They gained the lower terrace, and Ulster, supporting himself upon
the arm of his son, wondered why Sydney must turn to look back to the
lake, the rose garden, and the bower where Margaret sat.
"Good-bye," Sydney was muttering. "For ever and for ever, Margaret.
Come, sir, come on," he laughed. "I've news for you." They entered
the silent corridors of the Palace. "Queen Margaret has a keen scent
for explosives, and all your thoughtful arrangements have been
changed. From the Broad Sanctuary to Trafalgar Square your
Departments of State are mined with high explosives. In your own
office Gloucester's lying dead. There's conspiracy afield to take
your life to-day, or Margaret would never have named to-morrow for
surrender. Even with my help you may be dead by then. Hush! It's
not safe to talk till we gain your ship."
They crossed the throne room, traversed the State apartments, and
gained the head of the alabaster stairs.
"Guard, turn out!" cried my Lord, and the main guard paraded before
they reached the porch.
"By her Majesty's command,"--Sydney saluted the officer of the day.
"The main guard is desired to attend my Lord Duke to his ship. Pass,
sir," he said to Ulster, "I attend you."
And as the main guard formed as an escort of State, Sydney hung back
until Sergeant Dymoke passed him.
"Dymoke," he whispered, "fall out."
The Queen's Champion fell out of the ranks, and my lord held him
within the shadow of the columns.
"Dymoke, old man,"--his voice was scarcely audible--"I'm going with
Ulster in the _Golden Hind_, and I leave you a message for the Guard.
I know a little of these etheric ships. Long years ago Brand showed
me the detail of their gear. When they rise they're free from the
pull of the earth, and but for the brake would be whirled into outer
space. One blow of my sword will shatter the brake past mending.
I'm going for a long voyage, Dymoke."
"Sydney, we can't spare you! Oh, let me go myself, if it must be
done."
"Am I not to guard my own honour?" My Lord dropped his sword on the
wrist sling.
"I am the Queen's Champion."
"Live for her then," he said. He took off his helmet, and unfastened
the Queen's favour, her glove, which was bound to the brow. "This to
our Lady," he whispered. Then looking out to where the gigantic ship
lay waiting him, and the Dictator impatiently cried for his son to
come, "Tell her I go to plead for her and for England. Good-bye."
My lord drew off his gauntlet, and, with his finger, touched his
friend upon the forehead. "We shall not be long parted, you and I."
Then looking up to heaven, his face flushed by the dying sunlight, he
set the glowing helmet on his head, took up his sword and passed
slowly between the waiting ranks of the guard to where Lord Ulster
received him upon the gangway. Even as the Dictator led him, he
turned in the shadow of the port, and, lifting his sword hilt to his
brow, gave the salute.
The gangway crashed home. Nine hundred feet in length, dwarfing the
lofty Palace with her bulk, all gleaming steel aglow in the sunset
light, the _Golden Hind_ with one faint tremor spurned the ground
away. She rose from her couch upon the shattered trees, slow
lifting, while the glass of all her ports, tier upon tier, glittered
and flashed like rubies.
Dismissed from their ranks, the Guardsmen clustered about the columns
of the porch, watched the great ship go up.
Then Dymoke spoke to the officer and the rest. "Lords and gentlemen
of the Guard, I have a message to you which Sydney left me. The
Dictator threatened our Lady's life, and goes to meet his death at
the hands of his son. My friend was too knightly a man even to take
her token on such a quest." He showed them our Lady's glove. "He
dies for the Queen and for his honour."
The rising ship was already far aloft.
"He has destroyed the _Golden Hind_!"
The ship at terrific speed whirled upward into the heavens.
Then Dymoke, removing his helmet, spoke to the others for "our dear
brother departed. He asks us to pray for him."
With bared heads they waited, these, my Lord's comrades, watching the
ship, which like a blood-red star, glowed in the heights, and
vanished even as the sparks fly upward.
May we all have strength at the last to serve as you served, to die
as you died, Lord Sydney!