THE SOLDIER GUEST
Passing out of the park, Francis and her tutor came into the forest
proper. One vast sea of woods rolled, a flood of green, over hill and
valley onward and ever on till lost among the moors. Presently they
ascended Stoney Cross Hill and there opened out one long view. On the
northeast rose the hills of Winchester but the city was hidden in their
valley. To the east lay Southampton by the waterside; and to the north,
gleamed the green Wiltshire downs lit up by the sunlight.
Among the beeches but a short distance away lay Castle Malwood with its
single trench and Forest lodge, where tradition says that William Rufus
feasted before his death, and down in the valley was the spot where he is
said to have fallen. The road now became a long avenue of trees--beeches
with their smooth trunks, oaks growing in groups, with here and there
long lawns stretching far away into distant woods. All at once the manor
burst upon the view.
Situated in the midst of a noble park which crowned the summit of one of
the hills that fringed the borders of the weald, Stafford Hall, in this
year of grace 1586, the twenty-eighth of Elizabeth, was graceful and
stately in the extreme. The general design of the castle was a
parallelogram defended by a round tower at each of the angles with an
Anglo-Saxon keep. The entrance through a vaulted passageway was its most
striking feature. Of the time of the first Edward, there were signs of
decay in tower and still more ancient keep. Crevices bare of mortar gave
rare holding ground for moss and wall flower, and ivy and clematis
mantled chapel and turrets with a dank shroud that added to the
picturesqueness of the building.
The park, full of ferny depths, glorious old oaks and deep glades,
stretched away on one side toward the soft recesses of the forest. On the
other its wooded declivities sloped down to an idle brook now stopped up
by water-lilies and white crowfoot. The fair corn lands sloping to the
southeast so as to miss no gleam of morning or noonday sun; the fat
meadows where the herbage hid the hocks of the browsing kine, and the
hanging woods holding so many oaks and beeches ripe for the felling,
formed an appanage that was almost royal.
The views of the castle, the winding declivity of hill, the trees, the
fields, the exquisite landscape in the distance made an assemblage of
nature's beauties that was at once inspiring and noble.
But Francis Stafford was too angry to heed either beauty of scene or sky,
and she hurried toward the Hall with so quick a step that the tutor could
scarcely keep pace with her.
"I cry you mercy, Francis," he panted querulously as the girl paused
reluctantly in answer to his pleading. "Age hath stolen my vigor and I
cannot walk as thou canst. Already thou hast made me plod many a weary
step beyond my strength; and now thou wouldst have me run as though I
were a lad. Thou art too unheeding."
"A truce to thy chiding, cousin," rebuked the girl sharply. "I marvel
that thou dost appeal to my compassion. Thou knowest my skill with the
bow, and thou didst see the deer fall under my shaft; yet thou didst say
with the boy that 'twas he who did the deed. Catiff! How dared he claim
the stag? And 'twas a hart royal!"
"Yet had he not done so thou wouldst have had to suffer fine and
imprisonment. Dost know the law? It says----"
"I care not what it says," declared Francis haughtily. "If I offend
against the law then 'twere meet that I should bear the penalty. My
father shall right the matter."
Master Greville knowing full well the futility of contradicting his
charge when she was in such a wilful mood said no more, but meekly
followed her as she started once more on her way. Through the great
doors, which were of weathered oak thickly studded with nails, over which
hung the family coat of arms, a shield, azure, three quatrefoils, argent,
the girl and the old man passed across the paved courtyard, up a flight
of steps to the terrace which led to the porch and from thence to the
ante-hall passage.
Serving men clothed in blue with the family arms upon the left sleeve,
and retainers clothed also in blue but without the heraldic device
thronged courtyard, terrace and hall. Francis hastened through the
ante-hall passage to the great hall which lay beyond. The floors were
freshly strewn with rushes, the walls were hung with rich tapestries
representing stories from the classics. The upper end contained an oriel
window under which was a fringed dais. On one side of the apartment was a
huge fireplace over which the ancestral arms hung with the arms of
England over them. On the other side towered lofty windows. A screen
gallery, an organ and a high table completed the hall which was the
principal room of the castle and the place where all of the feasts,
mummeries and masques were held.
Ushers were hurrying through the great hall for it was "covering time,"
and the household was mustering for the midday meal. Francis threaded her
way through the crowd of yeomen to the door of the presence chamber, and
drawing aside the arras that hid the entrance, opened it and entered.
"My father," she began abruptly, and then paused for she saw that her
father was not alone.
"Is it you, my daughter?" Lord Stafford rose to meet her. The resemblance
between them was very striking. "I had just asked for you. This is my
child, Fortescue. She of whom we were speaking. Give greeting, Francis,
to my good friend Captain Fortescue."
Francis gave a quick glance at her father's guest. He was a man of
commanding stature, with black hair and keen black eyes that held a cruel
light in them. He was arrayed in a blue velvet jerkin with hose of the
same material. A large beaver hat with a long feather in it lay on the
table. A rapier depending from his belt completed his attire which was
that of a soldier. Without heeding this fact something in his bearing
caused the girl to address him as a priest.
"I give thee welcome, good father."
"Said I not that the wench was shrewd?" asked Lord Stafford with a hearty
laugh.
"Ay, my lord; and 'twas well said," returned the guest. "My child, do you
not see that I am attired as a soldier?"
"I crave forbearance," faltered Francis in some confusion. "I did not
notice thy dress, but judged from thy manner. Nathless, priest or
soldier, I give thee greeting. Prithee heed not mine error."
"'Twas naught," smiled Captain Fortescue. "It is to my praise that thou
didst accost me as an holy man. My lord, methinks the maid will serve our
purpose well."
"I trow so," answered Lord Stafford with a proud look. "She hath spirit
and courage to a rare degree in a maid. I know no lad of her age that can
equal her in hunting or hawking. No tercelet for her, but the fiercest
goshawk that e'er seized quarry. How now, Francis?"
"My father, I knew that thou wouldst believe my skill," said Francis
eagerly. "Yet a lad did but now contend that he it was who shot a deer in
the forest," and she related the incident graphically.
"Beshrew me, I doubt not but that thine was the arrow that slew the buck,
yet it contents me well that the lad should endure the penalty of the
deed in thy stead. How now, Greville?" to the tutor. "Was the youth of
noble birth?"
"Methought there seemed something of the gentle in him, though he was
but meanly garbed. Yet the apparel doth not always make the man,"
answered Greville.
"Not always," acquiesced Lord Stafford.
"He was not noble," interjected Francis shortly. "Else he would not have
claimed the deer. I would, good my father, that you compass his release,
and let me take the consequences of my action. I killed the deer."
"Be that as it may, child, the lad must bear the penalty. There are
matters of grave import that must now be considered, and thou canst aid
me."
"I aid thee?" asked the girl in surprise. "Father, didst thou say my
aid?"
"Thine, child. Come to me anon, and I will acquaint thee with the full
import of the matter. Greville, thou standest like a hind. Give greeting
to our guest. One would think that thou hadst never been at court."
"I give thee welcome, sir," said Greville bowing. "As my lord's friend, I
welcome thee."
"Methinks thy countenance is not unfamiliar, Master Greville," and the
soldier returned his obeisance courteously.
"In London mayhap thou hast seen me. It was mine abode for a time,"
replied the tutor carelessly.
"Perchance 'twas there," mused the other with a searching look at the old
man. "But howsoe'er that may be, later will I pledge to our better
friendship."
"I drink with no enemy of the queen," said Greville coldly.
"Greville!" exclaimed Lord Stafford.
"We differ not, Master Greville," smiled the soldier. "My life, my
service, my all is devoted to our queen. God bless Her Majesty!"
"God bless Her Majesty, Elizabeth," returned Greville pointedly.
"Thy mother waits thee, Francis, in her tiring-room," interposed Lord
Stafford hastily. "Come to me anon. Greville, no more of this an thou
lovest me."
The tutor without another word withdrew from the room accompanied by his
pupil.
"Was it not strange, cousin, that I should have thought our guest a
priest?" queried Francis when they were beyond the portals of the door.
"Nay; the habit doth not always proclaim the monk," quoth Greville
sententiously. "You spoke truer than you knew when you called him
'father.'"
"Is he in sooth then a priest?" asked the girl curiously. "Why comes he
then in such array? Are not priests always welcome in my father's
house?"
"Is it not within thy ken that an edict hath been passed making it
treason for priests to be found within the kingdom, and felony to harbor
them? And, forsooth, there is much reason for such a law. So many have
been the plots against the Queen's Majesty that much precaution must be
taken to preserve her from them."
"Would evil befall my father should it come to the ears of the queen that
he had given a priest entertainment?"
"I make no doubt of it, child. Therefore it behooves us to be silent
respecting the matter. But, by my life, girl! we dally too long. Away!
and set a guard upon thy lips. If thou canst carry so weighty a matter
sub silentio then will I deem thee better than the most of thy sex."