'We have heard that he hath found you a faithful servant,' said the Queen, 'yea, so well affected as even to have refused your daughter in marriage to this same Babington. Is this true?'
'It is, so please your Majesty.'
'And it was because you already perceived his villainy?'
'There were many causes, Madam,' said Richard, catching at the chance of saying a word for the unhappy lad, 'but it was not so much villainy that I perceived in him as a nature that might be easily practised upon by worse men than himself.'
'Not so much a villain ready made as the stuff villains are made of,' said the Queen, satisfied with her own repartee.
'So please your Majesty, the metal that in good hands becomes a brave sword, in evil ones becomes a treacherous dagger.'
'Well said, Master Captain, and therefore, we must destroy alike the dagger and the hands that perverted it.'
'Yet,' ventured Richard, 'the dagger attempered by your Majesty's clemency might yet do noble service.'
Elizabeth, however, broke out fiercely with one of her wonted oaths.
'How now? Thou wouldst not plead for the rascal! I would have you to know that to crave pardon for such a fellow is well-nigh treason in itself. You have license to leave us, sir.'
'I should scarce have brought you, Richard,' said Lord Talbot, as soon as they had left the presence chamber, 'had I known you would venture on such folly. Know you not how incensed she is? Naught but your proved loyalty and my father's could have borne you off this time, and it would be small marvel to me if the lad's appointment were forgotten.'
'I could not choose but run the risk,' said Richard. 'What else came I to London for?'
'Well,' said his cousin, 'you are a brave man, Richard Talbot. I know those who had rather scale a Spanish fortress than face Queen Elizabeth in her wrath. Her tongue is sharper than even my stepdame's, though it doth not run on so long.'
Lord Talbot was not quite easy when that evening a gentleman, clad in rich scarlet and gold, and armed to the teeth, presented himself at Shrewsbury House and inquired for Mr. Talbot of Bridgefield. However, it proved to be the officer of the troop of gentlemen pensioners come to enroll Diccon, tell him the requirements, and arrange when he should join in a capacity something like that of an esquire to one of the seniors of the troop. Humfrey was likewise inquired for, but it was thought better on all accounts that he should continue in his present situation, since it was especially needful to have trustworthy persons at Chartley in the existing crisis. Master Richard was well satisfied to find that his son's immediate superior would be a gentleman of a good Yorkshire family, whose father was known to him, and who promised to have a care of Master Richard the younger, and preserve him, as far as possible, from the perils of dicing, drinking, and running into bad company.
Launching a son in this manner and equipping him for service was an anxious task for a father, while day after day the trial was deferred, the examinations being secretly carried on before the Council till, as Cavendish explained, what was important should be disclosed.
Of course this implied what should be fatal to Queen Mary. The priest Ballard was racked, but he was a man of great determination, and nothing was elicited from him. The other prisoners, and Nau and Curll, were questioned again and again under threats and promises before the Council, and the letters that had been copied on their transit through the beer barrels were read and made the subject of cross-examination-still all in private, for, as Cavendish said, 'perilous stuff to the Queen's Majesty might come out.'
He allowed, however, day after day, that though there was quite enough to be fatal to Ballard, Babington, Savage, and Barnwell, whatever else was wanting was not forthcoming. At last, however, Cavendish returned full of a certain exultation: 'We have it,' he said,-'a most undoubted treasonable letter, which will catch her between the shoulders and the head.'
He spoke to Lord Talbot and Richard, who were standing together in a window, and who knew only too well who was referred to, and what the expression signified. On a further query from his step-brother, Cavendish explained that it was a long letter, dated July 16, arranging in detail the plan for 'the Lady's' own rescue from Chartley at the moment of the landing of the Spaniards, and likewise showing her privy to the design of the six gentlemen against the life of the Queen, and desiring to know their names. Nau had, he said, verified the cipher as one used in the correspondence, and Babington, when it was shown to him, had declared that it had been given to him in the street by a stranger serving-man in a blue coat, and that it had removed all doubt from his mind, as it was an answer to a letter of his, a copy of which had been produced, but not the letter itself.
'Which we have not found,' said Cavendish.
'Not for all that search of yours at Chartley?' said Richard. 'Methought it was thorough enough!'
'The Lady must have been marvellously prudent as to the keeping of letters,' said Will, 'or else she must have received some warning; for there is absolutely naught to be found in her repositories that will serve our purpose.'
'Our purpose!' repeated Richard, as he recollected many little kindnesses that William Cavendish when a boy had received from the prisoner at Sheffield.
'Yea, Master Richard,' he returned, unabashed. 'It is absolutely needful that we should openly prove this woman to be what we know her to be in secret. Her Majesty's life will never be safe for a moment while she lives; and what would become of us all did she overlive the Queen!'
'Well, Will, for all your mighty word
The speech considerably nettled Master William, especially as it made Lord Talbot laugh.
'Father!' said Diccon afterwards, 'Humfrey tried to warn Mr. Babington that we had seen this Langston, who hath as many metamorphoses as there be in Ovidius Naso, coming privily forth from Sir Francis Walsingham's closet, but he would not listen, and declared that Langston was holding Mr. Secretary in play.'
'Deceiving and being deceived,' sighed his father. 'That is ever the way, my son! Remember that if thou playest false, other men will play falser with thee and bring thee to thy ruin. I would not leave thee here save that the gentlemen pensioners are a more honest and manly sort of folk than yonder gentlemen with their state craft, wherein they throw over all truth and honour as well as mercy.'
This conversation took place as the father and son were making their way to a house in Westminster, where Antony Babington's wife was with her mother, Lady Ratcliffe. It had been a match made by Lady Shrewsbury, and it was part of Richard's commission to see and confer with the family. It was not a satisfactory interview. The wife was a dull childish little thing, not yet sixteen; and though she cried, she had plainly never lived in any real sympathy or companionship with her husband, who had left her with her parents, while leading the life of mingled amusement and intrigue which had brought him to his present state; and the mother, a hard-featured woman, evidently thought herself cheated and ill used. She railed at Babington and at my Lady Countess by turns; at the one for his ruinous courses and neglect of her daughter, at the other for having cozened her into giving her poor child to a treacherous Papist, who would be attainted in blood, and thus bring her poor daughter and grandchild to poverty. The old lady really seemed to have lost all pity for her son-in-law in indignation on her daughter's account, and to care infinitely less for the saving of his life than for the saving of his estate. Nor did the young wife herself appear to possess much real affection for poor Antony, of whom she had seen very little. There must have been great faults on his side; yet certainly Richard felt that there was some excuse for him in the mother-in-law, and that if the unfortunate young man could have married Cicely his lot might have been different. Yet the good Captain felt all the more that if Cis had been his own he still would never have given her to Babington.
CHAPTER XXXII. WESTMINSTER HALL.
Beneath the noble roof of Westminster Hall, with the morning sun streaming in high aloft, at seven in the morning of the 14th of September, the Court met for the trial of Antony Babington and his confederates. The Talbot name and recommendation obtained ready admission, and Lord Talbot, Richard, and his son formed one small party together with William Cavendish, who had his tablets, on which to take notes for the use of his superior, Walsingham, who was, however, one of the Commissioners.
There they sat, those supreme judges, the three Chief-Justices in their scarlet robes of office forming the centre of the group, which also numbered Lords Cobham and Buckhurst, Sir Francis Knollys, Sir Christopher Hatton,
