AT THE SANCTUARY
That night my sleep was troubled with strange and fantastic dreams. I
know not how many different forms these delusions took; but through all
these tormenting and hideous scenes, in which I seemed to be playing a
troubled part, there was one person present which ever prevented the
final calamity from falling upon my head. No sooner was I saved from
certain destruction in one form than the dream was changed, gradually,
and, after passing through a cloudy stage, again was I struggling
against some fearful monster. Then would this friend, the face of whom
I could not see, stretch forth a mighty arm and brush the awful
creature from my chest, where he was perched, crushing out my life.
At last even the cords of sleep, with which I had been so securely
bound, could bear the strain no longer; so I awoke to find myself
completely worn out, from my struggles with these phantom foes.
It was still too early for the inmates of the Palace to be stirring.
"'Tis well that I awoke when I did," thought I; "for a double reason.
First, had I slept much longer I had surely been strangled by those
accursed monsters; and second, I now may leave the Palace, and proceed
to the Sanctuary, without fear of arousing suspicion, and therefore, of
being followed." For truly, my dears, I began to fear that I might
soon find myself in the Tower, were I to be seen having any relations
with the Queen; and I felt sure that Catesby would give his right hand
to see my headless corpse.
I hastily dressed myself and repaired unto my friend's quarters. I had
some difficulty in arousing him without disturbing those in the
adjoining apartments; for Harleston admitted that naught but the sound
of the last trump could ever awaken him until he had finished basking
in the sunny smiles of the Goddess of Sleep. As this speech of his
came to my mind I could not help but shudder as I thought of the
treatment that faithfully-worshipped Goddess had bestowed upon me.
Instead of smiling, how cruelly had she frowned.
At length I succeeded in drawing forth a lazy enquiry as to who I was
and what was my business.
"Come, Harleston, bestir thyself, for the love of Heaven. Sleeping at
this time of the day? 'Tis absurd," called I, gently, through the
keyhole.
"Ah! Walter, it is thou," said Harleston, as he opened the door.
"Heigh-ho! why, art thou completely dressed already? What hour is it?"
he asked, as he made a frantic effort to dislocate his shoulders, neck
and jaw, all at one and the same time.
"'Tis almost sun up, and we must be stirring and proceed unto the
Sanctuary before the others do arise, that we may not be observed."
"Ah! a good idea, Bradley. One moment and I will be with thee," he
said, as he began hastily to dress. He was soon ready, so we crossed
over.
The Queen, her family, and the girls, were at matins when we asked to
be permitted to enter; so we were compelled to walk up and down before
the door, and bide our time as best we could until her Majesty had
finished her devotions; for at that time it was even more difficult to
obtain admittance to the Sanctuary than it had been at any other, on
account of her Majesty being within its sacred walls.
At the end of what seemed to us an age, but what in reality must have
been but a very short space, for anxious love makes the moments into
hours, the slide in the door was pushed back and a not unpleasant voice
asked what names we might wish to send unto the Queen.
"Sir Frederick Harleston and Sir Walter Bradley, but late returned from
Ludlow with the King, pray to be admitted to the presence of the Queen,
as we have information that is of importance to her Majesty," said I.
Again the sliding panel was closed, and again were we compelled to
struggle with our impatient spirits. But this time it was not for
long. Presently the slide was opened to the width of a lady's hand.
To this opening was applied an eye, beautifully draped with long and
curling, dark brown lashes, through which that orb--the true
transmitter of the workings of the soul--sparkled with expectancy and
love, like a precious jewel held in a gentle shadow. And indeed what
jewel could equal it in preciousness? For it belonged to Hazel. Then
the door flew open, and we were locked in each other's arms in a
shorter space of time than one might draw a breath in.
Seldom, if ever, had that holy house been the scene of such a meeting.
Verily, it is a wonder that we were not struck dead for daring to thus
demonstrate our love in that cold, consecrated edifice, where one is
scarce expected to draw a breath, except for the purpose of praying.
But mayhap this house had become used to unholy men, during the wars of
the white rose with the red. Be this as it may, nothing of harm befell
us for our conduct.
"Oh! my dear, fair flower," I cried, as my lips touched her on the
forehead; "great is my joy at seeing thee, as is my sorrow that thou
shouldst be compelled to thus seek safety from those accursed
scoundrels which now surround our King."
"Walter, dear, I think not of that, now that thou art again returned to
me. But come," she said suddenly, as she remembered my mission, "the
Queen awaits thee anxiously; so let us go to her at once. Afterwards
we may talk, as I have much to tell thee."
"Hast thou no word for Sir Frederick?" I asked, as we started down the
corridor.
"Ah! Sir Frederick, thou must forgive me;" said Hazel, in confusion,
"but I was so surprised and--"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Harleston, with a smile, "I quite understand.
Indeed, Lady Hazel, thine oversight carries not with it the sting of
slight; for, under the circumstances, I had been a churl indeed to have
been offended by such a pretty show of love's one-heartedness."
This brought a succession of crimson waves to Hazel's lovely face,
adding to its beauty as does the evening sunlight to the rose.
"But how knowest thou so much of these things that thou dost speak of?"
she asked, as she looked up at Harleston's face with her head held to
the one side and a smile of triumph playing about her mouth. "Surely
one could not discourse so learnedly on any subject without having had
practical experience."
Harleston was fairly taken aback; but as he attempted to stammer out
something in reply we came to her Majesty's room; so Sir Frederick was
permitted to escape Hazel's criticism of his explanation.
We were admitted to the Queen's presence by her son, the Marquis of
Dorset, who met us at the door.
"Ah! my friends," said he, pleasantly, "I am indeed pleasured that ye
have come. Her Majesty and I have been awaiting your arrival with
great anxiety; for we would hear from your lips the recital of that
unhappy and treacherous event which took place at Stony Stratford."
"Yes," said the Queen, "well would I like to hear a fuller description
of that which happened to our dear relatives and friends, than was
given in your letter to me, or rather to Hazel," she corrected.
Harleston here left me to be spokesman, whilst he, by some admirable
manoeuvring, made his way unto the other end of the room, where was
sitting Mary, apparently most busily engaged in stitching upon a piece
of tapestry. Whilst faithfully I told the story of Gloucester's
treachery, which I have already put down, and therefore need not
repeat, my friend approached Mary, who appeared not to see him until he
stood before her. I say she appeared to not see him; and yet this is
not exactly correct. I should say she tried to appear to have not seen
him. But what then caused that hand of lily whiteness so gently to
tremble, like an aspen leaf? And that bosom of Venus' mould to rise
and fall so quickly, if it were not that the heart beneath had buried
in its core the fire-pointed arrow shot by that lovely tyrant, Cupid,
with such unerring accuracy as had put Robin Hood to shame?
When at length she did look up it was with the pleasant smile with
which she would greet a friend from whom she had parted but an hour
before. Evidently Mary was becoming more timid, and using the greater
care to conceal her feeling the more hopelessly she felt herself
entangled in love's silken meshes. As is ever the case with those of
proud spirit, when they are fairly trapped, they play the indifferent,
to conceal their real feelings from the eyes of their captors, or the
curious. However, ere I had finished the telling of the tale to the
Queen, Mary had changed her manner as she would a garment, and stood
before Harleston, looking up in to his face, as though drinking in his
every word. I know not what was the tale he was unfolding; but of one
thing I am certain, and that is, it was not the same as I was telling
to the Queen. This could I see by the expression upon Mary's face,
which reflected nothing if not pleasure.
When I had finished with my story, the Queen, in her gentle look,
thanked me for the service. "But oh! Sir Walter, I have yet greater
trouble than the fate of those at Pomfret," said her Majesty, after
sitting with folded hands and gazing with fixed eyes into vacancy.
"Yes, madam, and what may be worse than the evil fate of those we
love?" I asked, though I knew full well what would be her answer.
"Yestere'en," she said, "Cardinal Bouchier, accompanied by the Bishop
of York, came here to see me. When admitted the Cardinal fawned, as is
his custom, and with oily tongue informed me that my late husband's
hump-backed brother desired my little Prince, the Duke of York, to be
permitted to attend his brother's coronation.
"'Go back to him that sent thee and say that the Queen, the little
Prince's mother, hath the Duke of York in her own keeping, where he
prefers to be, instead of with his uncle.'
"'But, madam,' said the Bishop, 'the little King desires to have his
brother with him, that he may not be lonely.'
"'He should be permitted to come and tell his mother so, instead of
resting as a prisoner, the which mayhap he is," I replied.
"'Nay, madam, truly,' said the Bishop, 'it is the King's own will that
doth not permit him to come and see your Majesty.'
"'And why, sir, may I ask?' Then, without waiting for his answer, I
continued:--'Ah yes, I understand. His Highness, the Protector, hath
poisoned the boy's mind against his mother. A fit act for his Royal
Highness.'
"'No, madam, I am sure that thou dost wrong the Duke, who is filled
with all respect and love for your Majesty,' put in the Cardinal.
"'Ay, my Lord Cardinal,' I replied, 'well hath he shown his love for me
and mine. Look at the prisoners at Pomfret, which never did offence to
Gloucester, except that the love they bore my late lamented husband and
his family hath stirred up anger in his savage bosom.'
"'Nay, indeed, your Majesty, thou dost abuse and misjudge the Duke of
Gloucester,' said the Cardinal. 'As I understand the matter, it is
this,' he continued; 'Lord Rivers, Sir Richard Grey and Sir Thomas
Vaughan, were suspected of some plot against the King's freedom, and
Duke Richard, when he learned of it, caused these three gentlemen to be
detained until after the King is crowned, when it shall be for his
Majesty to decide whether they shall be set at liberty or no.'
"'A pretty tale indeed is this about a plot to gain control of the
King's person,' I replied with scorn. 'My Lord Cardinal, no one knows
better than dost thou that my brother would be the last to so conspire
against my son. 'Tis but a lie, devised by that accursed Richard!' I
cried, as mine indignation began to gain ascendency over my better
reason, 'to shield his own black treason. Well do I believe, my Lord
Cardinal, that this limping villain desires but to gain control of both
my sons, that he may work his will upon them; and God, or rather the
devil, and himself do know what that may be. And be assured of this,
Master Cardinal!' I almost shrieked, to such a state of fury had this
rehearsal of my wrongs aroused me, 'I shall not permit my tender son,
the Duke of York, to fall into the hands of that traitorous cur, so
long as this Sanctuary stands to protect the gentle babe. Gloucester
hath already, through treachery, obtained control of one of my pretty
children; but so long as his mother can protect the other be thou
assured, good Cardinal, that hump-backed Gloucester shall not control
him.'"
The Queen, as she said these words, in her excitement arose from her
chair and, standing like a statue before me, her head thrown a little
aback, her nostrils slightly distended, like those of a horse that hath
just scented fresh-spilled blood, and her whole pose bespeaking
resolution and defiance, looked like some angry Goddess about to hurl
destruction upon those which had been the cause of her anger. Verily,
my children, this was indeed a Queen.
My soul was so filled with admiration for this noble and unfortunate
woman that I needs must kneel at her feet and kiss the hem of her gown.
"Arise, Sir Walter," said her Majesty, tenderly; "I do not deserve such
homage. This trouble is but God's punishment for so neglecting his
commands, when I was in a position of power. Ah, my friend, sorrow
doth tame the haughty spirit and maketh us to realize that we must live
for other purposes than the fulfilment of our ambitious dreams.
"Thou mayest think it strange in me to thus take thee into my
confidence and tell thee of my troubles. But this, I tell thee, Sir
Walter, is the reason. Thy father was ever a faithful servant and
friend of my dear husband's house; and had King Edward lived thou hadst
been raised to considerable power. Thou hast proven thy loyalty to me,
even in my trouble, when those which have received, at my hand, the
greatest honours have deserted, what seems to them, a sinking ship.
Besides all this, my soul must needs pour out its grief on some
sympathetic ear. Therefore I tell thee this story of the troubles of a
Queen which, whilst her husband lived, had scarce to express a wish,
and the policy of an empire changed as does the wind. To-day she seeks
safety for herself and family within the precincts of a Sanctuary, than
which place, where is safer? And even it is not."
"Come, madam, thou must not yet despair," said Dorset, tenderly, as he
saw tears rushing unto his mother's eyes. "Surely Gloucester dare not
do harm to the little Duke."
"Ah, my son," replied the Queen, "well do I know that thou dost speak
thus to lighten my heart with hopes of safety for my little Prince.
"But Sir Walter has not yet heard all of my conversation with the
Churchmen. When I had finished my declaration that Gloucester should
not have my son, so long as Westminster would protect me," continued
the Queen, as she again took her seat, "the Cardinal, with a look of
great sorrow, which methinks was feigned--for well do I believe him to
be of Gloucester's party--again spoke:--'Then, your Majesty,' said he,
'it is only left for me to deliver the rest of the Protector's message.
Believe me, madam, I would rather have my tongue torn from my throat
than be the bearer of such a message unto your Majesty.'
"'Come, cease thy snivelling, and deliver thy message,' said I. 'Thou
art but a lackey messenger, and therefore thou art not responsible for
aught that thy master doth say, of insult though it be.' This offence
to him mayhap was not good policy, but methinks it had made but little
difference even had I spoken in more gentle tone," said the Queen,
addressing herself to me.
"'Well then, madam,' said the Cardinal, with a great show of offended
dignity; though how he came by it I know not, 'hear the complement of
the Lord Protector's message. In case thou dost still persevere in
thine obstinate refusal to deliver the young Duke into the hands of his
duly appointed guardian, his Royal Highness, the Duke of Gloucester,
his aforesaid Royal Highness, the Protector, by this act of thine, and
by no desire or willingness of his, must needs obey the wishes of the
King and take the aforesaid little Prince from this place by force;
which act, in any other case than this, shouldst be a sacrilege, and an
offence most grievous unto Heaven.'
"'What! tellest thou me that Gloucester dare to take from a Sanctuary
one that hath taken refuge there?' I cried.
"'Indeed, madam, he surely will,' replied the Cardinal.
"'And wilt thou, a Cardinal, permit such an insult to a house of God?'
I asked.
"'Ah! your Majesty, thou dost not understand the circumstance,' he
replied, with a smile that had cost him his head, before that hump-back
came to power.
"'And what strange circumstance, Master Cardinal, is my son placed
under, that so permits of armed force, without the fear of God's
indignation, to take him from a Sanctuary?' I asked.
"'It is this,' he replied. 'Your son, the Duke of York, is of too
tender years to be, and in fact is not, guilty of any offence.
Therefore he hath not the right of Sanctuary, which right, according to
the strict interpretation of the rules of Holy Church, belongs solely
to those standing in the fear of our Country's laws. This rule,' he
continued, as though he shamed to say the words, 'Duke Richard will see
fit to resort to, in case your Majesty should be obstinate.'
"'And in this hath he thine approval and help?' I cried.
"'Nay, madam,' he replied, 'I am but the lackey messenger, and
therefore am far beneath the honour of being consulted in this matter.'
"'Leave me, thou insolent cur!' I cried; 'How darest thou to stand
before my face and mock me? A pretty servant of God art thou, to side
with one who hath the position of power, against what thou knowest to
be right. Be assured, sirrah, that thou shalt be reported to thy
master, the Pope at Rome, for thy disgraceful conduct in thus seconding
a powerful villain against a defenceless woman. Now leave me, thou
knave, and tell that slave of Hell, the Lord Protector, to send to me
to-morrow, and he shall have mine answer, as to whether he shall have
my little son or no!'
"Then, sir, he left me," said her Majesty, quietly, as she heaved a
great sigh, as though even the memory of this Churchman's departure
were a relief to her. "But here's the day come around when I must give
my final answer to Gloucester's messenger;" she continued, "and which
it is to be I am not yet determined. If I do refuse to hand my dear
son over to the boar, he, verily do I believe, will carry out his
threat, and tear him rudely from me. 'Twas with the thought of getting
advice from thee--for thou hast had good opportunities for observing
the hump-back's habits lately--as to what course I had best take, that
I did so anxiously await your coming."
"Ah, madam," I replied, "thou dost honour me over much by asking advice
of one which hath had so little experience. Yet, since thou hast so
honoured me, I needs must tell the truth. Therefore do I say this:--My
natural impulse is to offer what resistance thou canst, in case the
Duke doth make use of force. Yet, what little of the cooler stream of
reason I have within my blood doth tell me how vain must be the effort
to save the little Prince from falling into the Protector's hands,
backed as that villain is by such powers as the nobles that surround
him.
"Now, shouldst thou grant the Duke's request and hand the little Prince
over to his Highness, his position could not be worse than it now is,
granting of course, that the Duke of Gloucester dare to carry out his
threat, which, I am sad to say, I fear he would not hesitate to do.
Then, if thou dost decide to oppose force by force, the result of
which, unhappily, must be a victory for the Protector, the little
Prince might not receive the same consideration that he should were he
to go to his uncle peaceably."
"Ah, yes, Sir Walter, thou art right," replied the Queen; "yet I had
hoped to hear that my tender babe had still a chance of escaping the
tusks of the bloody boar."
"May I crave thy pardon, madam?" said Harleston, who had approached
whilst the Queen was speaking. "Methinks I have a plan which, if thou
hast time to carry it out, may yet keep the little Prince from falling
into the hands of his uncle."
"Let me hear it, for the love of Heaven!" cried the Queen, to whom any
suggestions of a chance of saving her son from Gloucester was as a
voice from Heaven.
"Well, madam, it is this," continued Harleston. "With all expediency
let thy son be conducted from this place, without the knowledge of the
Duke of Gloucester. No doubt my Lord of Dorset knows of some place,
either within the kingdom or across the channel, where the little
Prince need have no fear of falling into the Protector's hands."
"Now, by my soul, that is well thought of!" cried the Marquis, as, in
his delight, he slapped Frederick on the shoulder.
"Oh! I thank thee, sir, for those words of hope!" cried the Queen as
she started from her seat and, in her excitement, grasped my friend by
the hand, as though he were an equal.
Frederick dropped to his knee and touched her fingers gently with his
lips.
"But come, we must make haste!" said her Majesty, "and have my little
son away from here before Gloucester doth send hither for him. Do thou
go, my son," said she, speaking to the Marquis, "and assemble as many
of thy followers as thou canst, whilst I prepare young Richard for the
flight."
"Again, madam, may I crave permission to offer a suggestion?"
interrupted Harleston.
"Indeed I long to hear what thou hast to say," replied the Queen. "And
if thine advice shall be as good this time as it was last much
unquietness of spirit shall it save me."
"Then, madam," said my friend, "I would advise that thou shouldst send
no other than my Lord of Dorset, to escort the little Prince. Were he
to be surrounded by a body of armed men he needs must attract
attention, and therefore could easily be followed. But, madam, if he
goeth unattended, except for one gentleman, no curiosity will be
aroused, and then he will leave no trail behind, that may guide his
pursuers, in case the Duke of Gloucester has him searched for, which
'tis like he will."
"Again art thou right," replied the Queen. "And yet," she said, as a
troubled expression came into her face, "it likes me not to send my
little son so far, without a stronger guard."
"Still, mother, Sir Frederick's plan is safer than if we took a
regiment," put in Dorset. "Besides," he continued, "I promise thee
that no harm shall come unto my little brother so long as I can wield a
sword. And be assured, good mother, that every drop of my heart's
blood shall be spilled ere Gloucester shall wrench him from me."
"Cold comfort for a mother," said the Queen, with a sad smile. "Then,
if I lose one son, I must needs lose another. But come," she said
suddenly, "whilst we talk here precious moments, which might be used in
flight, are passing by. Go, my son, and make thee ready with all speed
for thy journey, whilst I go to prepare thy little brother."
She followed Dorset from the room, and we were left with the girls,
alone.
Then it was that Hazel told me of the happenings at court whilst I was
absent therefrom.
The Queen was not long gone. When she returned she was accompanied by
her little son, the Duke of York. He was fully dressed for the road.
"Mother, I do not like to leave thee," said he, as they entered.
"Nay, my darling, no more do I desire thee to go," returned his mother,
tenderly. "But, Richard, my pet," she continued, "thou goest with thy
brother, so thou needst not to be lonely. Besides, thou shalt not be
for long separated from us--I hope," she added.
"But wilt thou follow me shortly, mother dear?"
"I hope to soon be with thee, Richard," replied his mother. Then, as
the boy began to cry, she said:--"come, my little man, thou must show
thyself to be the true son of a King. Be brave, and do as thy mother
doth direct thee; then I shall be proud of my little son."
This had the desired effect upon the proud spirit of his noble father,
that was so easily discernible in this young offshoot of the proud
house to which he belonged.
At this moment Dorset entered, fully equipped and ready for the road.
The Queen took the Marquis, Harleston and me, to the far end of the
room, leaving the little Duke with Hazel and Mary, from whom he seemed
most sad to part.
"Thou hast not yet told me where thou art taking Richard," said her
Majesty, in a low voice, to Dorset.
"Nay, mother, that have I not," replied he; "for the reason that I yet
know not what place of safety can be reached the most easily; and
besides I do think it best that no fixed place should be set. When I
have come unto some shelter, I shall leave my little brother in good
hands, and return again to thee."
"Methinks that thy plan is a good one," said his mother, after a pause;
"but what thinkest thou of it, Sir Frederick?" she asked, as she turned
to her new-found counsellor.
"In my poor opinion," replied Harleston modestly, "it is the only
course left open. However, methinks 'twere best to put the channel
betwixt the little Prince and his uncle, the Protector; for well do I
believe that he will have all England searched, so anxious is he,
madam, to obtain possession of your son."
"Fear not;" said Dorset, "Gloucester must search with great diligence,
indeed, if he be to find the little Duke. But come," he continued, "we
must take to the road at once, lest we be interrupted by foul Richard's
messenger."
'Twas a sad sight for the eye to gaze on, that parting of the Queen and
her little son. As her Majesty clasped the child in her gentle arms,
and pressed him to her heart, the strong love of the mother struggled
with the cold dignity of the Queen, that had been worn to bind down
that ruler of the world--love--and, as is ever the case, love
conquered, and the mother sobbed aloud.
"Richard, my dearest treasure, no matter what may happen to thee,
always remember thy mother and this, her advice," said the Queen, as
her tears fell fast. "Be brave, but gentle, proud, but not haughty,
firm, but not obdurate, generous, but not prodigal, and above all," she
concluded, as she released the Duke from her protecting arms, "forget
not to revenge any wrong that may be inflicted upon any of your family.
That is Heaven's especial favour to the son of a King. Yea, 'tis even
a command."
[Illustration: "Always remember thy mother and this, her advice."]
"But why, good mother, dost thou speak as though I never more might see
thee?" asked the poor child, as he struggled vainly to restrain his
tears, and show his courage.
"Nay, my dear, thou dost not understand my words. I did but mean that
thou shouldst leave me with a full store of advice to help thee through
the world; for no one can foresee what may happen to us ere thou dost
again join us. Of course we trust that all things will be well, but,
in these times, who but a prophet can foresee that which may happen
within the next revolution of the sun."
Then, after bidding their sisters and us all farewell, Dorset and young
Richard made their exit and departure from the Sanctuary, by an
unfrequented way, that they might avoid the danger of being seen by
eyes to which they might be known.
As Dorset placed the boy upon his palfrey the child gave way
completely, and, turning to his mother, with outstretched arms, a world
of sadness in his tear-dimmed eyes, he cried out, like the wail of a
soul but new-condemned to an eternity of woe:--"Oh! mother dear, send
me not from thee. Let me abide with thee and with my sisters; for now
I feel within my bosom here something that maketh me to feel that if I
leave thee now I ne'er shall see thee more!"
"Nay, nay, my dearest, God, the King of Kings, will not be so cruel.
He will again unite those which truly love him and keep his
commandments. Break not one of these by not obeying thy mother. Go
with thy brother, my dear, and thus escape the danger that here must
soon o'ertake thee, if thou dost tarry. Go, go! our prayers follow
thee, and may God protect thee and still have thee in his keeping!"
Dorset seized the palfrey's rein and started on his journey. The Queen
mother stood gazing after them, and her lips still muttered prayers.
Soon they were lost to view, as they turned a corner in the path.
As the Queen slowly re-entered the Sanctuary the bell from the chapel
began to toll for some poor soul whose body was about to be returned to
mother earth, to be the food of worms. As the bell rang out, like a
soul-rending cry of anguish, the Queen started as though she had been
stabbed. "A bad omen," I heard her mutter, as she leaned upon mine arm.