THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS
Will was disposed to be taciturn on the way to Chartley. Francis did not
know whether he suspected her design was more than to see Mary or not,
but summoning all the finesse of which she was mistress she made herself
as agreeable as she could, relating stories and incidents of the chase,
until long before the plain which lay between Stafford and Chartley was
crossed, Will's surliness had vanished.
The sun was an hour high when they reached their destination. Chartley,
grim and gray in the morning light, rose before them. The manor was large
and roomy, surrounded by such a high wall that none, unless he were
endowed with the wings of a bird, could scale its heights. A moat
encompassed the whole. The castle with wall and moat forming a stronghold
well suited to its present use as prison.
As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the portals Francis was
surprised to see sentinels everywhere. Her spirit sank a little and her
heart quailed as she noted all of the means employed to insure Mary's
safe-keeping.
"My father was right," she thought. "To obtain entrance is not all. There
will still be difficulty, I fear, in seeing her. What if she comes not to
the garden? But courage! Poor lady! I marvel not that she doth wish to
gain her liberty. Methinks I should die were I to be deprived of my
freedom!" Thus she mused little dreaming that not many weeks would elapse
ere she would be put to the test.
"There are the gardens," said Will breaking in upon her thoughts. "'Tis
there that I have often seen the queen. See, the guard is leaving."
"Don't they guard her through the day, Will?"
"Ay, master. But the sentinels stand not at the doors and windows as they
do at night. The walls only are guarded through the day. There she is,
forsooth."
"I see her not, good Will."
[Illustration: _QUEEN MARY'S WIT GRASPED THE SITUATION_]
"In the main garden, master. To the right."
Francis looked in the direction indicated and soon descried the form of a
woman seated in a large rolling chair which was wheeled by an attendant.
Along the walks of the garden they went pausing ever and anon to pluck
some flower or the cherries which were ripening in the sun. For a moment
only Francis gazed and then, before Will had time to say her nay, she
leaped off from the wagon and bounded swiftly in the direction of the
garden.
"Uds!" growled Will his mouth agape with astonishment. "Methought there
was more to 't than appeared," and he went on to the kitchens.
Meantime Francis, trampling over flowers and vegetables in her haste,
reached the side of Mary, and thrust into her hand the package of
letters. Mary's quick wit grasped the situation instantly. Concealing the
papers about her she drew back from the seeming carter, crying in a loud
voice for she saw one of the guards approaching:
"Well, what meaneth this? Forgive me," she whispered hurriedly, "if I
seem angry. 'Tis but for thine own safety." So saying she drew back still
further from the kneeling girl exclaiming as the guard came up, "I know
thee not, boy. Why dost thou trouble me?"
"I wished to see thee," murmured Francis rising. "Forgive me. I
wished----"
"There!" said Mary. "'Tis no matter. Barbara," to her companion, "hast
thou the purse? Give the lad a groat. Marry! thou art all alike. Ye wish
bounty whether ye deserve it or not. Go, and trouble me no more."
She turned as she spoke and without another glance at the girl passed
back to the house. Francis stood looking at the coin for a moment
undecided what to do for she saw that Will's cart was nowhere in sight.
"Get thee gone," said the guard coming toward her menacingly. He had
overheard Mary's remarks and noted her demeanor, and thought that the
carter lad before him was really seeking to profit by Mary's well-known
generosity. "Go, fellow! or I will take thee to my master. And if thou
troublest the lady again, I will run thee through with my rapier. Go!"
Without a word in reply, glad to have the matter end so, Francis followed
him meekly as he led her to the kitchen doors where Will and other
carters were busy unloading their wagons.
"With which of you came this fellow?" demanded the guard.
"With me, master," spoke Will sullenly.
"See that he accompanies thee no more. 'Tis a mischievous wight and like
to get into trouble. Quick with thy load. I wish to see thy cart safely
beyond the gates."
"Will," said Francis when they were once more outside the gates, "art
angry with me?"
"Ay! 'twere an ill turn that thou did serve me," growled Will. "'Twere an
ill turn, master."
"Forgive me, and you shall have this groat that the queen gave me," and
Francis handed him the coin. "My lord, I know, will give me more to give
thee."
"Well, mayhap it be all right," said Will somewhat mollified, "but you go
no more, young master."
"No, Will; I will not ask it of thee. I have both seen and spoken with
the lady. What more need I?"
"No more, I'll be bound, master," growled Will. "There was more in't than
seeing and speaking, I'll warrant. But I ken none of it. Here we are at
Stafford, master."
"I thank you, Will, for your courtesy," said Francis sweetly as she left
him.
Lord Stafford was awaiting her return anxiously. He folded her close to
his breast as she entered his chamber, saying earnestly:
"Thank Heaven, my daughter, that thou hast returned safely to me. Not for
all the queens in the world would I have thee adventure such a thing
again."
"Why, 'twas naught," laughed the girl. "Mary hath the letters now. 'Twas
not hard to give them after all." She recounted the whole affair.
"Well hast thou done, my child. There will need to be further
communication with Mary, but not from us. We have done our part. No more
of plots or conspiracies will I have, and never again will I subject thee
to such danger. Now we will wend homeward to allay the anxiety of thy
mother. Whenever I have need of a quick wit and a nimble brain I will
call on thee."
"Glad am I to have pleased thee," returned Francis. "There is naught that
I would not undertake for thee, my father."
"I believe it, Francis."
The next morning early they set forth on the return journey. Lord
Stafford seemed to have thrown aside the weight of misgiving that had
oppressed him on his way thither, and was full of the gayest spirits.
With laughter and story did he beguile the way, and once as he jestingly
spoke of her attire, he said laughingly,
"Listen, Francis, and I will tell thee of another such an one. Hast thou
ever heard how the serving man became a queen?"
"The serving man a queen?" cried the girl. "Why how could that be,
father?"
"Listen, and you shall hear." In a rich full voice he trolled the
following ballad:
THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING MEN
"You beauteous ladyes, great and small,
I write unto you one and all,
Whereby that you may understand
What I have suffered in the land.
"I was by birth a lady faire,
An ancient baron's only heire,
And when my goode old father died
Then I became a young knight's bride.
"And then my love built me a bower,
Bedecked with many a fragrant flower;
A braver bower you ne'er did see
Than my true love did build for me.
"And there I lived a lady gay
Till fortune wrought my love's decay;
For there came foes so fierce a band,
That soon they overran the land.
"They came upon us in the night,
And rent my bower and slew my knight;
And trembling hid in man's array,
I scarce with life escaped away.
"Yet though my heart was full of care,
Heaven would not suffer me to despair;
Wherefore in haste I changed my name
From fair Elise to Sweet Williame.
"And then withal I cut my hair,
Resolv'd my man's attire to wear;
And in my beaver, hose and band,
I travel'd far through many a land.
"At length all wearied with my toil,
I sate me down to rest awhile;
My heart it was so filled with woe,
That down my cheeks the tears did flow.
"It chanced the king of that same place,
With all his lords a hunting was,
And seeing me weep, upon the same
Askt who I was, and whence I came.
"Then to His Grace I did reply,
'I am a poor and friendless boy,
Though nobly born, now forc'd to be
A serving man of low degree.'
"'Stand up, fair youth,' the king reply'd,
For thee a service I'll provide;
But tell me first what thou canst do
Thou shall be fitted thereunto.
"'Chuse, gentle youth,' said he, 'thy place,'
Then I reply'd, 'If it please Your Grace,
To show such favor unto me,
Your chamberlain I fain would be.'
"Now mark what fortune did provide;
The king he would a hunting ride
With all his lords and noble train,
Sweet Williame must at home remain.
"And meeting with a ladye's vest,
Within the same myself I drest;
With silken robes and jewels rare,
I deckt me as a lady faire.
"And taking up a lute straitway,
Upon the same I strove to play;
And sweetly to the same did sing,
As made both hall and chamber ring:
"'My father was as brave a lord,
As ever Europe might afford;
My mother was a lady bright:
My husband was a valiant knight.
"'But now, alas! my husband's dead,
And all my friends are from me fled,
My former days are past and gone,
And I am now a serving man.'
"The king who had a hunting gone,
Grew weary of his sport anon,
And leaving all his gallant train,
Turn'd on the sudden home again.
"And when he reached his statlye tower,
Hearing one sing within his bower,
He stopt to listen and to see
Who sang there so melodiouslie.
"A crimson dye my face orespred,
I blush'd for shame and hung my head,
To find my sex and story known,
When as I thought I was alone.
"'Faire ladye, pardon me,' says he,
'Thy virtue shall rewarded be.
And since it is so fairly tryde,
Thou shall become my royal bride.'
"Then strait to end his loving strife
He took Sweet Williame for his wife.
The like before was never seen,
A serving man become a queen."
Francis laughed merrily when he finished.
"Poor Williame! but it ended well after all. Well, my days for man's
attire will soon be o'er."
"'Tis to be hoped so," answered her father. "Though the dress well
becomes thee."
At length, though they had returned by easier stages than they had
performed the journey to Stafford, Lyndhurst was reached, and soon the
turrets of Stafford Hall became visible.
"Home again, my child," spoke Lord Stafford cheerily. "Right glad am I to
enter its gates once more. How is it with thee, Francis? Thou hast fared
widely. Dost still revere thy home?"
"More than ever, my father. Never have I seen it look so beautiful. Even
the stones seem to smile a welcome."
"Marry, there stands my lady wife! Look, she sees us."
With a cry of joy the lady ran to greet them.
"Ye are safe," she cried embracing them. "Ah, but it hath been long, long
since ye left. Methought something had befallen you."
"No; my sweet wife. Weary we may be with the journey, and ready for the
good cheer which we know awaits us, but well otherwise. How now, sweet
chuck? Thou art pale, and even though thou hast us safe with thee, yet
doth thy lip still quiver, and thy form tremble. What is it? Speak,
madam, I beseech thee."
"My lord, I wot not what to think of it, but to-day a messenger came from
the queen saying that Elizabeth in her royal progress through Hampshire
would honor us with a visit."
"Elizabeth here?" cried Lord Stafford in astonishment. "Art sure?"
"Sure, my lord. What doth it portend? Is there hidden menace in the fact?
Doth she suspect, think you, that Ballard hath been here? My lord, what
can it mean?"
"Madam, I know not. We are her subjects. If Her Majesty chooses to visit
us we can but receive her. But look not so pale. 'Tis but a matter of a
few days' entertainment, and surely we would do ill to be churlish of
them. It is not the first time that royalty hath honored Stafford. Right
well do I remember that Henry, Elizabeth's bluff old father, favored us
with a visit. With his own hand he brought down many a fat buck in yon
forest park. Right well pleased was my father with that visit."
"True, my lord; but he had favor with Henry, and had naught to fear."
"And what is there to fear from his daughter? We must bestir ourselves to
give the queen most royal welcome. Here she will not find the 'princely
pleasures of Kenilworth,' but nathless! hearty welcome and good cheer are
much even to a queen. How now, girl! Thou dost not look displeased?"
"Neither am I, good my father," spoke Francis quickly. With the natural
instinct of youth she delighted at the prospect of the pleasures in
store. "Glad will I be to see the queen even though she be old and not so
beautiful as Mary."
"Beshrew me, girl! let no such words pass thy lips," cried her father in
consternation. "'Twere treason, forsooth."
"Have no fear. I will speak naught of that order to any save thee and my
lady mother. Discreet am I and full of matter, but nothing will I
disclose."
"Thou hast need to be discreet," replied her mother. "Be not malapert and
froward, child."
"Said the messenger when she was coming?" now asked the nobleman.
"On the third day from this, my lord."
"'Tis but short notice for what must be done," mused Lord Stafford.
"Supplies must be obtained for the queen's retinue, and pageants prepared
to amuse her. Call Greville, my wife. Bid him hasten to the presence
chamber. Francis, repair to thy chamber and rest. Thou dost merit it. It
will be thy part, madam, to attend to the ordering of the royal
apartments. As for me there will be much to employ me during the next few
days. Pray Heaven, that Ballard come not during the festivities."