'Hath no one spoken for her?' asked Humfrey, thinking at least as much of Cicely as of the victim.
'The King of Scots hath sent an ambassage,' returned Cavendish, 'but when I say 'tis the Master of Gray, you know what that means. King James may be urgent to save his mother-nay, he hath written more sharply and shrewishly than ever he did before; but as for this Gray, whatever he may say openly, we know that he has whispered to the Queen, 'The dead don't bite.''
'The villain!'
'That may be, so far as he himself is concerned, but the counsel is canny, like the false Scot himself. What's this I hear, Humfrey, that you have been playing the champion, and getting wounded in the defence?'
'A mere nothing,' said Humfrey, opening his hand, however, to show the mark. 'I did but get my palm scored in hindering a villainous man-at-arms from slaying the poor lady.'
'Yea, well are thy race named Talbot!' said Cavendish. 'Sturdy watch-dogs are ye all, with never a notion that sometimes it may be for the good of all parties to look the other way.'
'If you mean that I am to stand by and see a helpless woman-'
'Hush! my good friend,' said Will, holding up his hand. 'I know thy breed far too well to mean any such thing. Moreover, thy precisian governor, old Paulett there, hath repelled, like instigations of Satan, more hints than one that pain might be saved to one queen and publicity to the other, if he would have taken a leaf from Don Philip's book, and permitted the lady to be dealt with secretly. Had he given an ear to the matter six months back, it would have spared poor Antony.'
'Speak not thus, Will,' said Humfrey, 'or thou wilt make me believe thee a worse man than thou art, only for the sake of showing me how thou art versed in state policy. Tell me, instead, if thou hast seen my father.'
'Thy father? yea, verily, and I have a packet for thee from him. It is in my mails, and I will give it thee anon. He is come on a bootless errand! As long as my mother and my sister Mall are both living, he might as well try to bring two catamounts together without hisses and scratches.'
'Where is he lying?' asked Humfrey.
'In Shrewsbury House, after the family wont, and Gilbert makes him welcome enough, but Mall is angered with him for not lodging his daughter there likewise! I tell her he is afraid lest she should get hold of the wench, and work up a fresh web of tales against this lady, like those which did so much damage before. 'Twould be rare if she made out that Gravity himself, in the person of old Paulett, had been entranced by her.'
'Peace with thy gibes,' said Humfrey impatiently, 'and tell me where my sister is.'
'Where thinkest thou? Of all strange places in the world, he hath bestowed her with Madame de Salmonnet, the wife of one of the French Ambassador's following, to perfect her French, as he saith. Canst thou conceive wherefore he doth it? Hath he any marriage in view for her? Mall tried to find out, but he is secret. Tell me, Numps, what is it?'
'If he be secret, must not I be the same?' said Humfrey, laughing.
'Nay, thou owest me some return for all that I have told thee.'
'Marry, Will, that is more like a maiden than a statesman! But be content, comrade, I know no more than thou what purposes there may be anent my sister's marriage,' he added. 'Only if thou canst give me my father's letter, I should be beholden to thee.'
They were interrupted, however, by a summons to Humfrey, who was to go to the apartments of the Queen of Scots, to bear the information that in the space of half an hour the Lord Buckhurst and Master Beale would do themselves the honour of speaking with her.
'So,' muttered Cavendish to himself as Humfrey went up the stairs, 'there
Meantime Humfrey had been admitted to Queen Mary's room, where she sat as usual at her needlework. 'You bring me tidings, my friend,' she said, as he bent his knee before her. 'Methought I heard a fresh stir in the Castle; who is arrived?'
'The Lord Buckhurst, so please your Grace, and Master Beale. They crave an audience of your Grace in half an hour's time.'
'Yea, and I can well guess wherefore,' said the Queen. 'Well, Fiat voluntas tua! Buckhurst? he is kinsman of Elizabeth on the Boleyn side, methinks! She would do me grace, you see, my masters, by sending me such tidings by her cousin. They cannot hurt me! I am far past that! So let us have no tears, my lassies, but receive them right royally, as befits a message from one sovereign to another! Remember, it is not before my Lord Buckhurst and Master Beale that we sit, but before all posterities for evermore, who will hear of Mary Stewart and her wrongs. Tell them I am ready, sir. Nay but, my son,' she added, with a very different tone of the tender woman instead of the outraged sovereign, 'I see thou hast news for me. Is it of the child?'
'Even so, madam. I wot little yet, but what I know is hopeful. She is with Madame de Salmonnet, wife of one of the suite of the French Ambassador.'
'Ah! that speaketh much,' said Mary, smiling, 'more than you know, young man. Salmonnet is sprung of a Scottish archer, Jockie of the salmon net, whereof they made in France M. de Salmonnet. Chateauneuf must have owned her, and put her under the protection of the Embassy. Hast thou had a letter from thy father?'
'I am told that one is among Will Cavendish's mails, madam, and I hope to have it anon.'
'These men have all unawares brought with them that which may well bear me up through whatever may be coming.'
A second message arrived from Lord Buckhurst himself, to say how grieved he was to be the bearer of heavy tidings, and to say that he would not presume to intrude on her Majesty's presence until she would notify to him that she was ready to receive him.
'They have become courteous,' said Mary. 'But why should we dally? The sooner this is over, the better.'
The gentlemen were then admitted: Lord Buckhurst grave, sad, stately, and courteous; Sir Annas Paulett, as usual, grim and wooden in his puritanical stiffness; Sir Drew Drury keeping in the background as one grieved; and Mr. Beale, who had already often harassed the Queen before, eager, forward, and peremptory, as one whose exultation could hardly be repressed by respect for his superior, Lord Buckhurst.
Bending low before her, this nobleman craved her pardon for that which it was his duty to execute; and having kissed her hand, in token of her personal forgiveness, he bade Mr. Beale read the papers.
The Clerk of the Council stood forth almost without obeisance, till it was absolutely compelled from him by Buckhurst. He read aloud the details of the judgment, that Mary had been found guilty by the Commission, of conspiracy against the kingdom, and the life of the Queen, with the sentence from the High Court of Parliament that she was to die by being beheaded.
Mary listened with unmoved countenance, only she stood up and made solemn protest against the authority and power of the Commission either to try or condemn her. Beale was about to reply, but Lord Buckhurst checked him, telling him it was simply his business to record the protest; and then adding that he was charged to warn her to put away all hopes of mercy, and to prepare for death. This, he said, was on behalf of his Queen, who implored her to disburthen her conscience by a full confession. 'It is not her work,' added Buckhurst; 'the sentence is not hers, but this thing is required by her people, inasmuch as her life can never be safe while your Grace lives, nor can her religion remain in any security.'
Mary's demeanour had hitherto been resolute. Here a brightness and look of thankful joy came over her, as she raised her eyes to Heaven and joined her hands, saying, 'I thank you, my lord; you have made it all gladness to me, by declaring me to be an instrument in the cause of my religion, for which, unworthy as I am, I shall rejoice to shed my blood.'
'Saint and martyr, indeed!' broke out Paulett. 'That is fine! when you are dying for plotting treason and murder!'
'Nay, sir,' gently returned Mary, 'I am not so presumptuous as to call myself saint or martyr; but though you have power over my body, you have none over my soul, nor can you prevent me from hoping that by the mercy of Him who died for me, my blood and life may be accepted by Him, as offerings freely made for His Church.'
She then begged for the restoration of her Almoner De Preaux. She was told that the request would be referred to the Queen, but that she should have the attendance of an English Bishop and Dean. Paulett was so angered at the manner in which she had met the doom, that he began to threaten her that she would be denied all that could serve to her idolatries.
