A FAMILIAR FACE AND A CHALLENGE
Lady Shrope received the girl with kindness but her anxiety, when her
husband recounted the manner of his reception by the queen, was great.
"Thou hast no cause for fear," remarked Lord Shrope. "Elizabeth is the
very muster of justice and honor. When she hath suffered a few hours to
pass she will repent her of her injustice."
The nobleman was right. At an early hour the next day he was summoned to
the presence of the queen, and bade to bring his charge with him.
"I cry your pardon, my lord," said Elizabeth extending her hand to him
graciously. "Thine entrance yester e'en was ill-timed. We had received
tidings that ruffled our royal dignity and permitted us to treat thee
with undue rigor. Dost forgive thy queen, my lord?"
"There is naught I would not forgive Elizabeth," returned he with
earnestness. "Had I known I would have delayed seeking an audience but
methought it was your wish that I should come to you upon my first
arrival. Forgive me that I did misinterpret your desire."
"If thou hast forgiven me then do I forgive thee," said the queen. "Rise,
my lord, and I will speak of this boy, and then to other matters.
Business of state awaits the morning hours."
"He is here, my liege, to speak for himself," answered he, and beckoned
Francis to come forward.
She did so diffidently and kneeled before the queen.
"Nay; I wish not to speak with him, my lord," and Francis noted with
dismay that she did not extend her hand to her. "Let him take his place
with the pages. They will soon let him into the manners of the court, I
trow. When he shall have rubbed off some of the rustic mayhap I will have
something to say to him."
"My liege," ventured the nobleman, "will you listen to something
concerning the lad which 'tis best that you should know?"
"Now, by my faith, my lord! thou dost try our patience," said Elizabeth
sharply. "Said we not that affairs of state awaited us. We go at once to
the council chamber. My lord chamberlain," turning to that official whose
white staff indicated his office, "place this lad where his manners will
meet with the most improvement."
She swept out of the room followed by her ministers, while the courtiers
and ladies dispersed according to their fancy.
Francis had remained in a kneeling posture all this time scarcely able to
control her tears. A tap on the shoulder aroused her, and looking up she
saw the kindly face of Lord Hunsdon, the lord chamberlain, bending over
her.
"Be not disheartened, boy," he said compassionately. "The tide will turn,
and thou wilt soon be swept upon the flood into the sunshine of Her
Majesty's regard. Come, and I will show thee those who are to be thy
fellow companions."
"My lord chamberlain," said Lord Shrope hurriedly, "out of the goodness
of your heart, permit me one word. The lad is unacquainted with the
court, and unused to the society of pages whom as thou knowest, albeit
their outward 'havior conforms to custom, yet still are ofttimes
unmannerly in their demeanor to each other. For that reason, and for the
love which once I did bear his father, I entreat you, let the lad remain
with me. I will see to't that his deportment is all that could be
asked."
"My lord, I dare not," was the chamberlain's reply. "Thou knowest that
where the queen commands she exacts obedience to her behests. He must go
with the pages."
"My lord, a word in your ear. The lad is not as he seems." And Lord
Shrope rapidly explained the matter.
"Ha! sayst thou so?" explained Lord Hunsdon regarding Francis earnestly.
"By my halidom, my lord, there is none who would take her to be other
than she appears. Somewhat delicate looking, forsooth, but there are many
lads as maiden-like. If the matter be given to the queen in proper manner
she will regard it with lenient eyes, but if not, she may treat it as
deceit practised upon herself. That she would not forgive."
"True;" assented Lord Shrope. "'Tis that aspect of the affair that
troubles me. Thou seest that for this cause I would that the girl might
remain with my lady wife."
"It may not be," said the chamberlain. "Let the girl be in attendance
with the pages in accordance with the queen's command until she learns of
the child's sex, which, for the damsel's sake, I would discover soon."
"I thank you, my lord, for your kindness," returned Lord Shrope. "It is
my desire also that the queen should learn of the affair at an early
season. But the time must be propitious."
"Yes; the time must be propitious." The lord chamberlain turned to
Francis who had listened to the above conversation with blushing cheeks.
"It seems best, my child, to carry out the queen's command at least in
part. Canst thou so bear thyself that none will be the wiser of thy sex?
The discipline of the palace is strict and the pages observe
punctiliously the outward forms of respect. Still the minions do ofttimes
o'erstep the bounds and indulge in rare pranks. Methinks 'twould be wise
for them to know naught of thy disguise. The knaves are as full of
mischief as sprites."
"I fear them not," said Francis spiritedly. "I fear naught but the
queen's displeasure. For any other, I care not who he be, woe to him who
dares touch Francis Stafford." She touched the poniard that dangled from
her belt significantly as she spoke.
"Child," cried the old lord in delight, "thou wearest the proper garb.
Thou wast never meant for a girl. Zounds! what spirit! And so thou
fearest naught in all England but the displeasure of the queen. Gramercy!
the air of the court is beginning to tell upon thee for those are the
words of a courtier. Come! I no longer fear for thee so long as thou dost
continue to bear thyself in so fearless a manner."
"I bid you farewell, my lord," said Francis to Lord Shrope.
"Farewell for a season, my child. Return to my lady when thy duties are
ended," said her friend. "Lighter will my heart be when thou art once
more in thy father's house. Marry! I would that I had not advised
bringing thee thither. Now I know not what may befall."
"Chide not thyself, my lord," returned Francis who had recovered her
natural courage now that the interview with the queen was over. "All will
be well in a few days, I doubt not. Meantime, it suits me well that I am
to see somewhat of the court."
"Marry! it suits not me," returned his lordship bluntly. "I like not to
see a wild bird caged. The linnet is never so sweet as in its own
woodland."
"But the hawk flies as high for its keeper as when seeking its own
quarry," said Francis as she moved away. "Again, my lord, farewell until
the eventide."
"Farewell. Be discreet, child."
Francis followed Lord Hunsdon through several lofty halls and chambers.
Finally the official caught sight of a youth who stood idly by a pillar.
"Devereaux," he called. "I would speak with thee."
"I am here, my lord." The boy was at his side instantly. "Command me, I
pray you. How can I serve you?"
"Take this lad, and make him thy pupil, Edward. He hath been sent here to
be taught manners. There be none so well versed in such things as thou
art. Therefore do I give him into thy charge."
The youth raised his head and gave a keen searching glance at Francis.
The recognition was instantaneous. Francis gave a slight exclamation for
the boy was he with whom she had contested the slaying of the deer.
Beyond a slight sparkle of his eye the lad betrayed no sign of ever
having seen her before.
"And, Edward, I know the custom that prevails amongst the pages of
treating with undue harshness such as come among ye for the first time. I
charge you, as you wish to curry favor with me, that this lad shall meet
with naught but gentleness. Dost hear, Edward?"
"Ay, my lord. It shall be as thou sayst. He shall be treated with
gentleness. With exceeding great gentleness, I promise you."
The boy's manner was very deferential, but the ears of Francis caught
the sinister meaning that lurked beneath his words.
"My lord," she said boldly, "is there none other to whom I may be
consigned except this youth? I like not his appearance."
"Like not Edward?" exclaimed Lord Hunsdon in surprise. "Why, what caprice
is this? He is a proper lad, and there is no other of the pages so
trustworthy. Thou shouldst deem thyself fortunate to be put into his
hands."
"Marry, sir," remarked Edward Devereaux with a sorrowful air, "'tis pity
that my visage is so unattractive. If the boy is afeared," with a slight
emphasis on the word, "you would best place him with another. Fear makes
cowards of us all, and breeds distrust of the most worthy."
"Gramercy," cried the girl hotly, "dost thou think that I fear thee,
sirrah? Nay; my lord, I will take none other for my mentor than he.
Mayhap while he imparts to me the nice customs of the court, he will in
turn learn of me something he wots not of. Marry! we each have much to
learn."
"Tut! is this the way to begin?" said his lordship impatiently. "Edward,
I shall look to thee for a good report of thy charge."
"It shall be well, sir," returned Edward Devereaux bowing profoundly. The
chamberlain left the two, and the boy faced the girl. "So," he said, "we
are come to learn manners, are we? By my faith, 'tis time. Thou dost
discover too much heat, Master Stafford, and that, thou shouldst know, is
not permitted at court. Take that for thy first lesson."
"I will take naught for my lesson from thee," said Francis quickly. "Who
art thou to teach manners to me?"
"Hast never heard of Edward Devereaux?" queried the lad. "Much hast thou
missed for he is before you," and he bowed mockingly. "Know, Francis
Stafford, that thou and I have a feud of long standing. Hast heard thy
father speak of Sir Thomas Devereaux of Kent? I am his son, cousin german
to Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex. Surely, even if thou dost reside far
from the court, thou dost know that there hath always been enmity between
the Devereaux and the Staffords?"
"Ay! I know of it," assented Francis. "And that is why thou didst claim,
the deer which was slain by my hand in the park?"
"So thou dost still claim the deer? Mark you, Francis Stafford! We of the
court think it not honorable to claim that which doth not belong to us.
Thou hadst no shadow of hand in the deed. It lies between thy sister and
me. Yet still thou sayst,--'I slew it.' Hark ye! if ye so choose we can
settle the matter in the great park some eventide. But for the sake of
truth say no more that you slew it. It is between thy sister and
myself."
"My sister," murmured Francis, and then remembering herself: "My sister
be it."
"And thou and I will meet and decide the business once for all," went on
Devereaux. "Come! what say you to the third night from this? There are
duties that forbid the undertaking sooner."
"But, but," stammered Francis. "I----"
"Ah! thou dost fear." Edward Devereaux looked his scorn. "We will drop
the matter. But thou must fight, or concede that I slew the deer."
"I fear nothing," cried the girl. "I will meet thee when and where thou
wilt."
"Then on the third night from this, thou and I will meet in the park
close by the wicket of the western gate. I will show thee this day where
it lieth. And now we must to duty."