FRANCIS TO THE FRONT
The next morning Francis was early at the crossroads but although she
waited for several hours neither Mary nor any of her party appeared.
"It is as I thought it would be," said Lord Stafford, "but we must not be
discouraged. You must go to the same place for several days. I feel sure
that if Mary can compass it she will fare that way again. It is our only
hope of opening up communication with her."
Three more days passed without result, but on the morning of the fourth
day a cavalcade appeared. Francis was delighted to see Mary in their
midst. Not as before on a horse but in a coach. As she stood with
uncovered head the party swept by her without stopping. The queen bowed
and smiled, but when the girl would have darted to the side of the coach
she was prevented by the gentlemen of the guard who closed around it.
"Oh," cried the girl, tears of disappointment streaming from her eyes,
"what shall I do? What can I do?" But the equipage swept on bearing Mary
from her sight and Francis gave way to her grief unrestrainedly.
"And I thought to have done so much," she murmured when she had become
calm. "Ah! my father did well to say that Sir Amyas was an austere man.
Little doth it comfort Mary to be a queen when there is such an one to
control her actions. Well, I must to the inn."
She turned to go back to the town when her eye was caught by a filmy bit
of linen which was caught in a bush by the wayside.
"'Twas hers," cried Francis catching it up eagerly. "How foolish to
repine when I should have known that there would be some sign."
Examining the dainty bit of cloth carefully she found it covered over
with a lot of characters whose meaning she could not fathom.
"I must take it to my father," she said concealing the linen in her
bosom. "Mayhap he can decipher it." And she hastened to return to the
tavern joyful at having obtained at least a token.
"It is written in cipher," remarked Lord Stafford, examining the bit of
cloth attentively. "It is my good fortune to have the key to some of the
ciphers which she uses. It may be that it is the one that will unravel
the meaning of this for us."
Francis awaited the result with impatience while her father applied
himself to the task of deciphering the characters. Presently he looked up
triumphantly.
"I have it, child. Mary is in truth on the alert. She knows that we have
messages for her. Listen! she says: 'I find no security in writing by
carrier; the best recipe for secret writing is alum dissolved in a little
clear water twenty-four hours before it is required to write with. In
order to read it the paper must be wetted in a basin of water and then
held to the fire; the secret writing then appears white and may easily be
read until the paper gets dry. You may write in this manner on white
taffeta or white linen, especially lawn; and as a token when anything is
written on a piece of taffeta or linen a little snip can be cut off from
one of the corners. Friend, if so be that you have letters, transcribe
their message in the above manner. As to the manner of their delivery I
know not. I will this way as often as the disposition of my jailer will
permit. Adieu, my friend--though I know not thy name, yet thy features
are engraved upon the heart of your queen,
'MARIE, ROYNE.'"
"There!" Lord Stafford smoothed the piece of cloth complacently. "The
thing that troubles is how to give her the papers and letters. 'Tis my
belief that they would be as easy to deliver as to transcribe their
contents upon cloth to give her. She must be made aware of the plan for
her rescue."
"What is the plan, father?"
"To overwhelm her escort while she is taking the air, child. Babington is
to come with one hundred men and carry Mary off. Her escort seldom
consists of more than eighteen or twenty men, and we think she might be
easily taken from them."
"But would not other of Sir Amyas's men follow after and retake her?"
"We hope to place her in a secure spot ere they could do so, Francis.
Once across the border Elizabeth would have no power over her, and her
son, unfilial though he hath shown himself, could not for very shame
refuse her safe asylum. Then she might, if she would so choose, retire to
France where she could dwell in peace."
"She must have those letters, my father."
"Yes, Francis; but how? My mind plays me false when I would discover a
way. It is not active. We must think, think, Francis."
Francis arose and walked to the window where she stood abstractedly
looking through the lattice which overhung a large yard, surrounded by
the stables of the hostelry. Some yeomen were dressing their own or their
masters' horses, whistling, singing and laughing. Suddenly she bent
forward eagerly.
"My father," she cried, "prithee come here!"
"What is it, Francis?" asked Lord Stafford joining her.
"Dost see the boy on the cart that has just entered the yard?"
"Yes."
"What is he, think you?"
"My child, he is a carter. What doth make thee so full of interest in
him?"
"Might it not be that as a carter he would go to Chartley sometimes?"
"Gramercy! I see thy meaning. How full of wit thou art!"
Francis smiled, much gratified.
"If it can be compassed would it not be excellent to enter Chartley as a
carter? The thing is to get within the gates. Then the delivery of the
letters would be easy."
"'Tis excellently thought of, child, but there are guards within as well.
'Twould still require adroitness to accomplish the rest."
"Trust me! If I can get within, the rest shall follow," said she with
great determination. "I will enter into talk with that carter and see
what can be done with him. My father, do I bear myself in a manner
befitting my garb?"
"Thou art a very model of pagehood, Francis. Go, my child. Heavy as the
burden of this emprise is it seems to have shifted its weight to thy
shoulders. Find if the lad goes to Chartley, and if so, the way may be
opened for us to enter therein. Divers means must be employed to
accomplish our aims."
The girl left the chamber and, assuming the careless frowardness of a
page, sauntered into the yard.
"Good-morrow, my lad," she said, stopping by the side of the boy who was
busily engaged in removing sacks, baskets and other receptacles from the
cart.
"Good-morrow, young sir," returned the wight civilly. "It hath been some
days since I saw your worshipful sir. Methought that you had gone away."
"Nay; I tarry here still for there is good cheer to be found at the Red
Hand," quoth Francis with a bold swagger. "How busy thou art."
"Yes; the likes o' us have to be. What with loading the cart, delivering,
and unloading again, and caring for the nag I find the time full."
"And where doth it all go, lad?"
"To Chartley, sir."
"Chartley? Is not that where Mary of Scotland is confined?" asked
Francis, trying to speak indifferently.
"The very place."
"Didst ever see her, boy?"
"Why, yes, my young master. Many a time and oft since she hath been at
Chartley. She takes the air in the early morning in the gardens and I
have seen her there when I drove in with my cart."
"I would that I might see her. Could I--could I go with you?"
The youth stared for a moment and then answered soberly:
"It is forbid to us to carry aught besides our wares within the gates.
And Sir Amyas is that particular that I misdoubt if he would let you
enter."
"Still I would like to try. 'Tis only for a sight of the queen. And see!
here is a gold piece that thou canst have. Do let me go with thee, Will.
Thy name is Will?"
"That is my name, sir." Will's hand closed over the gold but he still
appeared reluctant. "Well, it shall be as you wish, my young master. But
you must wear other garb than that, else you cannot enter."
"What habit shall I wear, good Will?"
"I will give thee my cloak and bonnet, master. I durst not do this if
thou shouldst want else but to look at the queen. But what harm is there
in that?"
"What in truth, Will? A cat may look at a king, I trow. When do you go
again?"
"To-morrow. Wouldst go then?"
"Ay, Will."
"Then, my master, you must be up with the lark for we start early."
"I will be ready. Then farewell until then. Thou wilt not regret thy
favor to me, Will, I promise thee."
"I hope not, master."
"Thou wilt not. Farewell till the morrow."
And Francis ran lightly back to her father to report the result of the
interview.