“The Lady Arabella has escaped from Barnet.”
“Aye, lad. Escaped and on the high seas. I’ve ordered that a boat be sent after her from Dover. But if she reaches France and hides there, how can we guess what black mischief she’ll be at … she and that traitor of hers, Will Seymour?”
“Your Majesty, I feel sure that she will not be allowed to reach France. We shall capture her and bring her back.”
“Ye’re a great comforter, boy. But this is how the plots begin. I dream about them, Robbie. I dream they’re stacking gunpowder in the cellars again; and that those who wish me out of the way, as the Ruthvens once did, will be putting their heads together. I’ve had luck so far, Rob. It wouldn’t be logical to expect it to go on.”
James was thinking of the ministers of his own Parliament who had recently spoken against him. What were they planning? Wouldn’t they seize an opportunity to rally to Arabella; even if the girl did not wish to start a war, they’d make her; she would be a good figurehead. And who could say how ambitious Will Seymour was?
It was a mistake perhaps to have taken her from Sir Thomas Parry with whom he had lodged her when she had disobeyed him by her marriage. She must have been desperate when she heard that she was to go to Durham to be in the care of the Bishop there. She had fretted and her health had suffered so that on the way north she had seemed to become seriously ill and had had to rest at Barnet. Now James saw that that was very likely a trick.
She must have had friends who helped her; she could never have escaped if she had not. Where would she have found French-fashioned hose, and a man’s doublet? They must have been found for her; and she, while he believed her to be sick, had dressed herself in these, added a man’s peruke, a black hat and cloak—not forgetting a sword—and had, in the company of some of her friends, slipped away. She had reached the Thames, where she boarded a waiting vessel and was taken to a French ship which was lying in readiness for her.
This was not all. At the same time William Seymour, also wearing a peruke and a false beard, had walked out of his prison in the Tower down to the river where a boat was waiting for him.
How could this have been done, demanded James, if the pair of them had not possessed friends to help them?
“But mark ye this,” added the King. “Luck has not gone with them all the way, for I am informed that by the time Will Seymour made his escape, the French ship had already left with the Lady Arabella, fearing to wait longer. Where Seymour is we do not know, but we’ll find him. And when these birds are once more my captives, there shall be such a cage made for them that they will never fly away again.”
James’s fears were soon diminished. Before her ship touched the shores of France it was overtaken by its swift pursuer, and Lady Arabella was brought back to England.
“Take the Lady to the Tower,” said James. “And this time make sure that she is well guarded. And what of Will Seymour?”
There was no news of Will Seymour for some weeks; and then the rumor came to the Court that he had safely reached France and was sheltering there.
James was uneasy. He would have many a nightmare about that young man. It was good that Arabella was in safe custody, but plots would go on doubtless while Seymour was free.
In her cell Lady Arabella wept bitterly for the ill fortune which was hers. She did not wish to wear the crown of England; she only wanted to live in peace with her husband.
She prayed that he might stay safe in France and that at some time she would be able to join him.
Ready to catch at every hope, she thought of Robert Carr who had seemed to her a kindly man, and had so great an influence with the King.
She took up her pen and wrote to him, imploring him to plead her cause with the King; she begged him to consider her sorry plight, and signed herself the most sorrowful creature living.
Robert was distressed when he read the letter. He had only a casual acquaintance with the Lady Arabella but he had always believed her to be a gentle, harmless lady.
He wanted to plead for her with the King, but first he discussed the matter with Tom Overbury.
“There is nothing you can do,” his friend told him. “Why even I, to whom the King has scarcely spoken, know how he fears plots. He is in terror of the assassin’s knife or the hidden gunpowder. No, Robert, don’t be a fool. Your strength lies in your ability to make the King feel comfortable. He wouldn’t if you pleaded for Arabella. You may think you can risk offending James. Don’t be too sure of that, Robert. Always remember that there are other handsome men waiting to spring into your place. Say nothing of this.”
As usual Robert took his friend’s advice. So Lady Arabella continued to languish in the Tower—a melancholy prisoner who had committed no crime—except of course that of belonging to a branch of the royal family. All she asked was to be able to live quietly with her husband, somewhere in the country if need be, well away from Court intrigue.
Alas, for Arabella.
Rarely had Henry seen Raleigh looking so well; and he thought: If he could only regain his freedom he would be as full of vigor as he ever was.
“Do you know,” he was saying, “I really believe this time I shall not be disappointed. I said: Let me serve as a guide in this expedition and if I do not lead the way to a mountain of gold and silver, let the commander have commission, to cut off my head there and then.”
“You seem very sure of finding treasure, Walter.”
Raleigh laughed. “Ah, my Prince. It will be a gamble.”
“You’d gamble your head!”
“And day, for my freedom.”
