AN ADVENTURE
"I must see thee, my lord, alone," she cried in such tones that her
friend arose without a word and conducted her into his own withdrawing
room.
"How now, Francis? What mishap hath attended thy enterprise? Gramercy,
girl! what is it? Thou art disheveled and as excited as though some
untoward accident had befallen thee. What said the queen? Say what hath
happened?"
"My lord," gasped the girl scarcely able to articulate, "once thou didst
love my father. For the sake of that love, I pray you, grant me aid to
reach him."
"Child, what is it?" cried he in alarm "Tell me what hath occurred? Hath
Elizabeth sent thee from her?"
"I have not seen the queen," said Francis trying to speak with calmness.
"After I had hidden myself as you bade me, the queen in company with
Hatton, Lord Burleigh, Sir Francis Walsingham and Lord Leicester entered
the chamber. They discovered to her a plot to slay her, and to elevate
Mary of Scotland to the throne, furthered by Anthony Babington, and
others, among whom they named my father. My lord, I must go to him. Aid
me I beseech you."
Lord Shrope's face turned white, and he withdrew himself from the girl's
clinging hands.
"A plot to slay the queen? The saints defend us! Girl, I cannot, I dare
not aid thee. It would be as much as my life is worth."
"You must, my lord. I must reach my father. I must and will, my lord."
"If William Stafford be concerned in conspiracy against Elizabeth he must
abide the consequences. I will aid no traitor to the queen."
"My lord, he is no traitor," cried the girl in despair. "He did wish to
release Mary from bondage, for he had compassion on her misery as who
hath not? But that he is party to the design to murder the queen, I deny.
I know, my lord, I know."
"What do you know? Are you too engaged in conspiracies? I thought thee as
innocent as the daisy that grows in thy father's field."
"I am in no plots nor conspiracies, sir," declared Francis. "But we lose
time in idle words. Give me thine aid to reach my father, I implore
thee."
"Never, girl! And thou,--thou must be restrained of thy liberty, for I
see that thou knowest much of this matter."
He turned toward the door as he spoke, but Francis was before him.
"My lord," she said, and there was determination in her manner, "thou
shalt not touch me, nor cause others to touch me. Heaven be my witness
that I speak truth when I say that my father is innocent of design to
murder the queen. I must have means to reach him, and thou must give them
to me."
"Must? Thou useth strange terms, girl! Not only will I not give thee aid,
but I will take thee into custody."
He sprang toward her, but the girl turned upon him fiercely with uplifted
dagger.
"Lay but one finger upon me, and I will slay thee," she said in a low
intense voice.
"Francis Stafford, this from you?"
"Ay, sir, from me. I would kill thee, or any who sought to hold me from
my father. The queen herself should not keep me from him."
"Seditious girl! those are words of treason."
"I care not," cried Francis recklessly. "I care not, my lord. And if thou
wilt not give me aid thy life shall pay the forfeit."
"Dost threaten me, girl?"
"Ay! if you deny me. I will slay thee and take thy signet ring."
"If I aid thee, what then?"
"I will tell no word of it to any man," declared she earnestly. "No word,
my lord. Thou shalt not be implicated in any manner, as indeed, why
should you? I am determined to reach my father, and if to do so I must
kill thee, I will do so."
"I believe in thee, Francis. Thy love for him is great. For the sake of
that love, and also for that which once I bore him, I will aid thee. Not
because of thy threats, girl. They are but talk of an excited brain."
"Nay, my lord; you do me wrong. I would carry them out if it were
necessary, albeit I am glad to have gained the end without bloodshed."
"Here is my signet ring, Francis. By that token the boatmen will take
thee to London. By that token also thou mayest obtain horses at my house.
Go, girl! Even now thou mayest be too late. As for me, with that ring on
thee, 'twill be my undoing, but--take it."
"Say that I stole it, my lord. Say that I forced it from thee," cried
Francis, receiving it from him joyfully.
"That thou forced it from me?" echoed Lord Shrope with a laugh. "Why,
girl, I had rather be beheaded."
"Then will I leave it at thy house in London when I shall have obtained a
horse," said the girl dropping upon one knee by his side. "Forgive me, my
lord, for my words," and she kissed his hand with fervor. "Thou hast
always been kind to me, but my father, sir. There is naught that I would
not do for him."
"Thou art forgiven. But hasten! Time is precious."
Without further parley Francis bounded from the room, and hurried
through the palace yard, out of the great gate and down to the steps that
led to the river.
Within the yard and at the landing-place there was a great deal of
confusion. Servitors were running to and fro, courtiers were grouped
together talking excitedly, while numerous officials and dignitaries were
taking boat for London. Among these latter the girl discerned the form of
Walsingham, the queen's secretary of state. Her heart sank at sight of
him.
"He goes to send pursuivants for my father," was her thought, and her
conclusion was correct. The secretary was indeed on his way to cause the
arrest of the conspirators.
Seeing her among the followers of Walsingham, the watermen permitted her
to enter one of the wherries and she found herself being carried to
London more expeditiously than would otherwise have been the case. There
was no indulgence on the part of the boatmen in song. Stern and silent
they bent to their oars, responding with all their mights to Walsingham's
"Faster, my men, faster!"
It seemed to Francis that they no sooner reached London than the whole
city was ablaze with the news. Traffic was suspended, and citizens
discussed in hushed accents the plot to kill the queen.
Francis made haste to Lord Shrope's house in Broad Street, and by means
of the ring, procured an excellent horse. Mounting him she urged the
animal to great speed and was soon outside the city.
"Heaven grant that I may reach my father before Walsingham's men," she
murmured. "I have gotten the start of them somehow. Let me make the most
of it."
Now the reason for her advantage was this: several of the conspirators,
notably the six who had associated together to assassinate the queen,
were in London awaiting their opportunity. Anthony Babington lodged at
Walsingham's own house, lured there by the wily secretary under pretense
of taking him into his confidence; while Babington, to further his own
ends, seemingly acquiesced in the minister's plans. It was a case of
duplicity against duplicity, craft matched against craft, with the odds
on the side of Elizabeth's brainy secretary. For the reason that the
chief conspirators were in London, Walsingham tarried there to apprehend
them before sending forth to arrest the other gentlemen concerned in the
plot who lived somewhat remotely from the city. But the conspirators had
gotten wind of his intentions, and when he reached the city they had
fled.
All this the girl did not know until long afterward. Now she pushed
forward with the utmost expedition, hoping to reach the Hall before the
pursuivants started. The weather was warm, it being the last of July, and
the Hall was two days' journey from London by hard riding. Therefore
whatever distance she might gain in the first stage of the trip would be
of incalculable advantage.
Toward the end of the day, her horse showing great signs of fatigue,
Francis was of necessity forced to allow the animal to settle into a
walk. As the steed slackened pace the girl relapsed into thought. So
absorbed did she become that she was startled into something closely akin
to fright when a man sprang from behind some trees, ran into the road,
and seized her horse by the bridle.
At this time the woods and forests of England were infested by
highwaymen, gipsies, or Egyptians as they were called, and wandering
vagrants whose depredations had been the cause of severe legislation to
rid the country of its pests. It had not occurred to Francis that she
might be molested by any of these, and she could not forbear a slight
scream at the appearance of the man.
His clothing, though of rich material, was torn and ragged as though it
had been caught by thorns in the unfrequented paths of the forest. His
head was bare of covering, his locks disheveled; his face and hands were
of an uneven dark color as though stained with some decoction unskilfully
applied. His whole manner was so distraught that Francis trembled
excessively.
"Boy," cried the man wildly, "dismount, and give me thy horse."
At the first sound of his voice the girl started violently, leaned
forward and scanned his face keenly.
"Anthony Babington," she cried as she recognized the unhappy man, "how
came you here?"
"You know me?" cried Babington in dismay. "Who in the fiend's name are
you that know me?"
"One that knows all of your nefarious purpose," said Francis accusingly,
her girl nature imputing to this man her father's trouble. "Wretched man,
knowest thou that the queen's men search for thee even now?"
"Ha!" cried Babington peering into her face, "'tis the page that was with
Stafford at Salisbury. Boy, where is thy master?"
"At Stafford Hall."
"And thou! Thou art not with him. Hast thou been at court?" Babington
peered suspiciously into her countenance.
"Yes;" answered the unsuspecting girl. "I have been at court, Anthony
Babington, where all thy deed is known. The whole palace, ay! the whole
city of London is in an uproar because of the discovery of thy intention
to kill the queen. I was present when the matter was discovered to the
queen. Death will be thy portion if thou art apprehended. Why stand you
here? If you would save yourself, fly!"
"Thou present when it was discovered? Then it is thou who hast betrayed
us? Varlet! Base brawler of men's secrets! die, ere thou canst betray
others."
His dagger flashed in the air as he spoke, but ere it could descend
Francis gave him a sharp, stinging cut across the face with her whip.
With a cry of rage Babington let fall the poniard, and before he could
regain the weapon the girl dashed away. On she rode, never stopping until
at length the night fell, and she knew that she was far from the wretched
Babington.