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IN DOUBLET AND HOSE
_A STORY FOR GIRLS_
_By_ LUCY FOSTER MADISON
_Author of_
"A Colonial Maid" etc.
_Illustrated by_
CLYDE O. DELAND
The Penn Publishing Company
PHILADELPHIA MCMIV
COPYRIGHT 1904 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
In Doublet and Hose
[Illustration: "_METHINKS THE MAID WILL SERVE OUR PURPOSE WELL_"]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A QUESTION OF SKILL 7
II THE SOLDIER GUEST 17
III THE PAGE'S DRESS 27
IV ANTHONY BABINGTON 37
V ON THE ROAD TO STAFFORD 48
VI A GLIMPSE OF MARY 56
VII FRANCIS TO THE FRONT 66
VIII THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS 75
IX THE COMING OF ELIZABETH 90
X THE QUEEN TAKES OFFENSE 101
XI AT THE QUEEN'S COMMAND 111
XII THE FAVOR OF PRINCES 121
XIII A FAMILIAR FACE AND A CHALLENGE 137
XIV A STRANGE DUEL 149
XV THE STRANGE WEAKNESS OF FRANCIS STAFFORD 160
XVI WHAT CAME OF AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP 171
XVII WHAT FRANCIS OVERHEARD 182
XVIII AN ADVENTURE 192
XIX A SHELTER FROM THE STORM 203
XX FRANCIS FINDS A HELPER 213
XXI AN UNLOOKED FOR RECEPTION 223
XXII AS IT FELL OUT 229
XXIII IN THE TOWER OF LONDON 238
XXIV A FRIEND IN NEED 250
XXV A GREAT SORROW BEFALLS FRANCIS 260
XXVI A FELLOW PRISONER 272
XXVII THE ESCAPE 284
XXVIII THE THREE VOLUNTEERS 297
XXIX A BRITOMARTE OF THE ARMADA 304
XXX PARDON AND HAPPINESS 321
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"METHINKS THE MAID WILL SERVE OUR PURPOSE WELL!" frontispiece
QUEEN MARY'S WIT GRASPED THE SITUATION 77
ELIZABETH EXTENDED HER HAND GRACIOUSLY 107
THE TWO WERE DEEP IN THE MYSTERIES OF FENCING 156
SHE GAVE A FAINT GASP 190
"I WILL NOT TELL, SIR FRANCIS" 248
"PULL, PULL FOR YOUR LIFE!" 318
IN DOUBLET AND HOSE
CHAPTER I
A QUESTION OF SKILL
It was June, and the peaceful stillness of a summer's day hung over an
ancient wood which lay in the heart of the New Forest near the village of
Lyndhurst. The wood was a part of a large demesne which had at one time
been bordered by hedges of yew and holly, but these, having been
untrimmed for years, had grown into great bushes which in many places
were choked up by underwood and brambles.
The forest stretched in every direction. Wood after wood rose before the
eye, masses of color, the birches hung with softest green, the oak boughs
breaking into amber and olive made doubly bright by the dark gloom of the
firs. Wide-branched oaks were intermingled with beeches and copsewood of
various descriptions so closely in some places as to intercept the
sunshine. In others the trees receded from each other, forming wide
vistas that gave glimpses of other recesses of sylvan solitude.
Down the long sunlit glades the gold belted bees sounded their humming
horns through every flowery town of the weald. Gauze-winged dragon-flies
darted hither and thither while butterflies of every hue sailed by on
wings of sheeny bronze. In the bracken wild roses rioted in the richest
profusion; the foxglove blazed like pillars of fire through the shadowy
underwood and the woodbine flaunted its tall head proudly among the
leaves. A gentle breeze rustled the fern, and breathed upon the quaking
grass, setting its beautiful spikelets in motion until they seemed like
fairy bells rung by elfin fingers. The flutter and hum of the wild things
served but to intensify the stillness of the wood.
All at once the deep bass notes of a hound broke upon the air. Louder and
louder grew the baying, and soon from out of the purplish shade of the
trees there dashed a large greyhound followed by a laughing, panting
maiden.
"Content thee, Echo," she cried flinging herself upon the sward under a
wide-spreading oak. "I have breath to follow thee no more. Rest until our
good cousin joins us."
The dog obediently stretched himself by her side, and once more quiet
reigned in the wold. Presently the maiden sat up with an impatient
movement.
"He tarries long," she said throwing a mass of auburn curls from a broad,
low brow. "Marry! I fear that we have done but an ill turn to the good
Hugh."
As she spoke the form of an elderly man emerged from the trees and
approached her slowly. He was withered and thin and though but fifty
years of age seemed much older. His doublet and hose were of some dark
stuff and his short cloak was surmounted by a huge ruff, the edges of
which almost joined the brim of the small, high, cone-shaped hat which
partly concealed his gray hair.
"By the mass, Francis! methinks that thou dost grow more unmannerly each
day. Thou art as unthinking as the butterfly, else thou wouldst not have
burdened my fore-wearied flesh with thy bow."
"In sooth, it was but a poor return for thy kindness to leave thee my
bow," observed the girl as she hastened to relieve him of the crossbow
that he held. "Thy pardon, Master Hugh. I was intent upon the race and
thought not of it. It was a good dash, I promise you."
"Ay! I make no doubt of it," grumbled the old man seating himself. "But
'twere meeter for a maiden to embroider, or to play the virginals than to
shoot the bow or run with the hounds as thou dost."
"Said I not my Latin well this morning, cousin?" queried Francis. "Doth
not my lady mother instruct me in the tent and cross-stitch each day?
Besides doth not even the Queen's Majesty disport herself with the bow?
'Tis the fashion, good my master."
"Ay! 'Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt,'"[A] spoke the old
man sharply.
"Be not angry, cousin, I did but ill in running from thee."
"Marry! let it pass, but I mislike such sturdiness, Francis. Thou hast
led me a sorry chase and we are far from the Hall. If I mistake not, we
are even now in Sanborne Park and that, thou knowest, is trespass."
"Nay, cousin; not unless we kill some of the red deer with which it
abounds, and that we have not done--yet," spoke the maiden demurely.
"The thought of such a thing should not be entertained by the daughter of
Lord William Stafford. Thou durst not think it, Francis."
"Durst not?" laughed Francis teasingly. "Should one stray in our path I
will show thee what I durst."
"Boast not, girl. It bespeaks ill for thy breeding. Thou art too prone to
vaunt thy skill in shooting. Not so was that flower of womanhood, the
Lady Jane Grey. Once," and the tutor spoke warmly for this was a favorite
theme, "once it was my good hap to pass some time at Broadgate, her
father's seat in Leicestershire, and never have I seen her like for love
of learning. Greek, Latin, French and Italian spoke she as well as her
own tongue. Some knowledge had she also of Hebrew, Chaldee and Arabic.
She loved not such idle sport as the chase. Would that thou wert like
her."
"Out upon thee for so evil a wish," chided Francis, but there was a merry
twinkle in her eye that softened the harshness of her tone. "Wouldst have
me beheaded? Yet it may be that I am such a dullard that thou dost wish
that I should meet with a like fate."
"Nay, child! Thou knowest better." The face of the old man softened
involuntarily as he gazed into the laughing countenance of the girl
before him.
Her head was crowned by a mass of red gold hair which, guiltless of
crisping or curling pins, fell in ringlets over her shoulders; her
complexion was of creamy fairness; her features regular, her eyes dark
and luminous; her whole expression full of winsomeness; but there was a
sparkle in the dark eyes now so full of mischief, and a set to the rich
red lips that spoke volumes for the spirit of Mistress Francis Stafford.
"I would only that thy desire for learning was like to that of the Lady
Jane's," went on the tutor. "Yet I do not dislike thy courage, and thou
art a good wench, surely."
"Hark!" cried Francis springing to her feet. "I hear the hounds. Look
ware, Echo! Look ware! Ware, ware!"
The greyhound, answering with short sharp yelps, rushed forward
frantically, and then stood at gaze as a tall red deer bounded from the
covert into the open glade. The noble animal's strength was almost spent.
His mouth was embossed with foam and large round tears were dropping from
his eyes. With a motion that was at once despairing and majestic he
turned to face his pursuers as a pack of hounds dashed from the trees and
surrounded him, making the air hideous with their clamor.
Instantly the maiden fitted a shaft to her bow and let fly a bolt as the
tutor uttered a shrill cry of remonstrance:
"Stay thy hand, girl! Knowest thou not the danger?"
Before the wounded animal could turn to charge this new assailant an
answering twang sounded from among the trees and a second arrow, sent
with unerring precision, imbedded itself in the deer's body. As the stag
fell, a lad of some sixteen years, clad in the dress of a forester, ran
hastily forward and reached the animal at the same moment that Francis
did.
"Behold, cousin," cried the girl triumphantly, "I have slain the deer.
Could thy Lady Jane Grey have done so well, thinkest thou?"
"Nay, fair maid," and the boy turned quickly, "'twas mine own bolt that
did the deed. Behold for thyself that thy shaft struck too far to the
left."
"'Tis false," cried Francis angrily. "'Twas mine arrow that slew him.
This one is mine, and thou seest that it alone hath entered the vital
part. 'Tis thine that is too far to the left."
"Nay; not mine, but thine," retorted the lad. "What? Would I, who lack
but little of man's estate be excelled by a girl? See for thyself,
mistress. The two are not an inch apart. The point is only which did the
deed. On mine honor, I tell thee, that it was mine own arrow. Thou seest
that it hath penetrated deeper than thine."
"I see naught of the kind," answered Francis with passion. "It was mine
that did it."
"Good master," said the boy appealing to the tutor, "didst mark that the
stag fell not until he received my shot?"
"Ay! I noted it, lad, and 'tis a point well taken," quoth Master Hugh.
"But a truce to thy quibbling. Here are the huntsmen."
The noise of the horns had been growing louder and louder as the hunting
party drew near, but the boy and girl were so absorbed in their
controversy that they had not heeded it.
"Fair maiden, there is a penalty," began the lad, but one of the hunters
called out:
"Beshrew me! if the quarry be not slain! What varlet hath done this?"
As Francis started forward the lad spoke,
"I, good my master. Give me thy knife, I pray thee, that I may make the
essay."
"What, ho, boy? Thou? Then instead of breaking the stag, thou shalt break
the jail. Knowest thou not that it is trespass to kill deer upon the land
of another?"
"He did it not," cried Francis. "'Twas I. What is the penalty? My father,
Lord William Stafford, will requite the loss; but permit me, I pray, to
take trophy of my skill."
"Thou?" The foresters who had surrounded the youth looked with amusement
at the girl, and then broke into loud guffaws.
"Heed her not, masters. Could a maiden do such a thing? She knows not of
what she speaks."
"Nay; give heed to me, I beseech you," cried Francis, but the lad
interrupted her.
"Permit it to be as I have said, mistress. If there be penalty, 'twere
meeter for me to suffer it than for thee. Withdraw, I beseech you."
"The boy is right," said Hugh Greville. "It is no place for thee,
Francis. I will speak to thy father concerning the matter. Meantime we
can serve no good purpose here. Come!"
"No, no," cried the girl trying vainly to make the foresters attend her.
"'Twas I who killed the deer. It was not this lad."
But the verderers paying no further attention to her words busied
themselves about the cutting up of the deer. With a burst of angry tears
Francis reluctantly permitted the tutor to lead her away.
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[A] While fools avoid one error they fall into the opposite
one.