THE QUEEN TAKES OFFENSE
The queen at length reached the great hall of the castle, gorgeously hung
with tapestries for her reception, and resounding to the strains of soft
and delicious music. At the upper end of the chamber was a throne and
beside it a door which opened into a suite of apartments for the queen
whenever it should be her pleasure to be private. The hall was thronged
with spectators, for a masque was to be given, and menials as well as
courtiers were interested in the pageant.
Francis mingled with the crowd purposing to retire very soon to her bower
to don habit more befitting her sex, but enjoying for the nonce the
freedom which her garb gave her. Presently she felt her cloak twitched as
some one said:
"Where is your sister, sir? I see her not among those who attend the
queen."
"My sister?" The girl wheeled about, and uttered an exclamation of
amazement as she recognized the speaker. "What dost thou here?" she
demanded sternly. "And why art thou in that attire?"
The boy, for it was the lad who had shot the deer in the chase, gave vent
to a low laugh.
"I came to see the queen. Why should I not? I am her leal and true
subject, which is more than thou canst say even if thou didst rattle off
her welcome so glibly in Latin. As for my dress, it is my own. Why should
I not wear it, Master Stafford?"
"I am as true a subject to the queen as thou art," retorted Francis. "Why
art thou here? Thou shouldst be in durance for the deer which thou didst
shoot in the forest," and a sneer curled her lips.
"So she told you of it," exclaimed the lad.
"She? Whom mean you?" queried Francis in bewilderment.
"Thy sister, stupid. How else couldst thou have known of the deer? Truly,
thou art as much like her as one pea is to another. Should you but don
her frock there would be none that could tell ye apart. Where is she?"
Francis laughed outright as the lad's mistake dawned upon her, and a
merry twinkle came into her eyes.
"My sister is occupied," she answered mischievously. "Marry! it were well
for thee that it was she with whom thou didst dispute over the deer. But
thou hast been punished enough, else I would not let thee leave this hall
before thou wouldst feel the weight of my whip."
"Beshrew me, I like not thy brag," cried the other angrily. "Know, Master
Stafford, that I was not punished. So soon as the keepers found who and
what I was they made apology for treating me in such an unmannerly
fashion, and brought me the horns of the deer as trophy of my skill. They
now repose in mine own abode."
"Brought thee the horns in trophy of thy skill?" repeated the girl in
wrathful incredulity. "Brought them to thee, forsooth! Why, minion, thou
didst not kill the deer. I slew it myself."
"Marry! dost thou take thy sister's quarrel upon thee," cried the boy.
"Know then that I slew it, and I am ready to maintain the matter by force
of arms."
"Francis," Greville came up opportunely at this moment, "thou art
forgetting thyself. Thy mother wishes thy presence. Why doth thou show
choler toward this lad? Why, it is the lad who shot the deer!"
"You too, Greville," exclaimed Francis bitterly. "I think the sight of
Elizabeth hath addled thy wits. As for you, young sir, 'tis well that my
duty to my mother calls me hence else thou shouldst not get off so
easily."
"At another time then," replied the boy, "thou wilt find me at thy
service. We can settle our difference then."
"Now heaven forfend!" ejaculated the tutor urging Francis away. "This
comes of donning male habit. I will report the matter to my lady,
Francis. She will see to't that thou dost conduct thyself in more seemly
manner. 'Twould but amuse my lord."
"Keep a still tongue in thy head, cousin," said the girl sharply. "Meddle
not with that that doth not concern thee. Couldst thou not see that the
fellow did but laud himself? The varlet dare not meet me."
"Methought he spoke not without courage," observed Greville. "I should
judge by his dress that his rank was equal to thine."
"His dress, forsooth! What doth hinder any hind from appearing in rich
attire?"
"The law of the queen. It regulates dress according to rank, and works
with severity against those who dare transgress it," returned Greville.
"There stands thy lady mother. I entreat thee, girl, abide close by her
side during the queen's visit else thy sharp tongue may work mischief for
all of us. My lady, here is the child."
Lady Stafford who stood near the queen and her ladies looked
reproachfully at her daughter.
"Hast thou not changed thy garb yet, my child?" she asked. "It behooves
thee to do so at once for it savors of disrespect to the queen not to
appear in other array."
"Nay;" said Elizabeth who had overheard her words. "The lad is well
enough as he is. We warrant that he wished not to miss any of this
pageant which hath been prepared in our honor. He shall attend us in our
own chamber to which we and our ladies will now retire for some privacy.
Come, my boy."
Much embarrassed Lady Stafford strove to stammer forth the truth but the
queen waved her hand peremptorily.
"No more, madam. It is our wish that he attend us as he is. He shall don
other garb later."
There was nothing left for Francis to do but to follow her as she retired
with the ladies to the apartments which had been allotted to her use. For
the first time the girl was painfully conscious of the incongruousness of
her attire. That the queen might ask her attendance had not occurred to
any of them, and had it done so the affair would have seemed easy of
explanation, but it had been found exceedingly difficult to get a
hearing. She resolved, however, that should occasion present she would
tell all hoping that the queen would pardon the deception, if such it
might be called.
[Illustration: _ELIZABETH EXTENDED HER HAND GRACIOUSLY_]
For some time Elizabeth conversed with her maids, taking no notice of
Francis, but at length she said abruptly,
"Come here, my lad."
Francis approached diffidently, and, unused to the customs of the court,
remained standing.
"Kneel, boy," whispered one of the ladies whom she afterward learned was
the Duchess of Rutland. "Where are thy manners?"
"Thy pardon," murmured Francis in consternation sinking upon one knee. "I
knew not. I----"
"There! 'tis naught." Elizabeth extended her hand graciously, and the
girl retained presence of mind enough to kiss it respectfully. "My good
Rutland, expect not court manners in the midst of a forest. The youth
means well enough, I dare say, and I liked well his words of welcome.
'Tis a pretty lad! His tresses match our own for brightness."
Francis looked up somewhat indignantly. Her locks were of red in truth,
but they were glossy and lustrous becoming golden in the sun, while
Elizabeth's were a dull red and false.
"Oh, no, Your Majesty;" interposed one of the ladies. "The lad's hair is
well enough, but I should as soon think of likening a weed to a rose as
of comparing such lack-lustre locks to your liege's."
"Foolish girl!" chided Elizabeth though a smile played about her lips for
this great queen did not object to the most fulsome flattery. "To speak
such words to me who am an old woman. Now the lad, we dare affirm, doth
not think me so fair as his mother who is, in truth, a beautiful woman.
Speak, boy!" She smiled at Francis as she spoke and rearranged her
draperies coquettishly.
Francis' young nature was filled with scorn for the vanity of the woman
before her, queen though she was. Her mother's face arose before her with
its delicate complexion guiltless of the powder and the rouge affected by
the ladies of the court. Her tresses were streaked somewhat with gray,
but they were still her own. Her eyes were as blue as periwinkles and
full of tenderness and love. The girl's eyes swept the painted face above
her, and her heart grew hot within her breast at the queen's question.
Amazed at her own audacity she arose and said boldly:
"Madam, I crave pardon, but my mother is to me the fairest woman in the
world."
For an instant there was dead silence in the chamber. An expression of
fury crossed the queen's face. She half rose from her couch, and then
sank back upon it.
"We were near forgetting, Sir Malapert, that thou hadst not had benefit
of court life. Thy manners must be mended ere thou dost come into our
presence again. Go! you weary me. Come near me no more. And he is a pupil
of Greville's!" Francis heard her exclaim as she hurried away. "My life,
the boy is duller than he looks!"
Full of consternation at what she had done, angry and resentful also,
Francis sought her parents to relate the incident to them.
"Oh, child, child," moaned the mother. "What hast thou done! What hast
thou done!"
"My mother, was it not the truth? Thou art fairer; a thousand times
fairer than she. She is an ugly old woman----"
"My daughter," interrupted Lord Stafford, "say no more. Elizabeth is the
queen, and whatever may be her weaknesses and faults she is still the
queen. And mark you, child! though she hath many faults she hath also
great virtues. For this reason her people overlook her vanity and exalt
her. She is a queen, but she is also a woman. Thou art too young to
understand all that that means yet. Now, let me think how to make
amends."
"She said that I was to come near her no more while she remained. I am
sorry if I did wrong in speaking so, but still it is the truth. My mother
is the fairer."
"Hush, hush," whispered the lady drawing her close. "'Tis treason, child.
What doth it matter to us whether or no I am the fairer. It bodes us ill
to say so. Oh, child, I am afeared."
"Let us ask Greville to aid us," said Lord Stafford. "Mayhap he can
suggest a remedy, for well doth he ken Elizabeth's humors."