CHAPTER XL.
High o'er the eastern steep the sun is beaming, And darkness flies with her deceitful shadows;-- So truth prevails o'er falsehood. --OLD PLAY.
As Tressilian rode along the bridge, lately the scene of so much riotoussport, he could not but observe that men's countenances had singularlychanged during the space of his brief absence. The mock fight was over,but the men, still habited in their masking suits, stood together ingroups, like the inhabitants of a city who have been just startled bysome strange and alarming news.
When he reached the base-court, appearances were the same--domestics,retainers, and under-officers stood together and whispered, bendingtheir eyes towards the windows of the Great Hall, with looks whichseemed at once alarmed and mysterious.
Sir Nicholas Blount was the first person of his own particularacquaintance Tressilian saw, who left him no time to make inquiries, butgreeted him with, "God help thy heart, Tressilian! thou art fitter for aclown than a courtier thou canst not attend, as becomes one who followsher Majesty. Here you are called for, wished for, waited for--no man butyou will serve the turn; and hither you come with a misbegotten brat onthy horse's neck, as if thou wert dry nurse to some sucking devil, andwert just returned from airing."
"Why, what is the matter?" said Tressilian, letting go the boy, whosprung to ground like a feather, and himself dismounting at the sametime.
"Why, no one knows the matter," replied Blount; "I cannot smell it outmyself, though I have a nose like other courtiers. Only, my Lord ofLeicester has galloped along the bridge as if he would have rode overall in his passage, demanded an audience of the Queen, and is closetedeven now with her, and Burleigh and Walsingham--and you are called for;but whether the matter be treason or worse, no one knows."
"He speaks true, by Heaven!" said Raleigh, who that instant appeared;"you must immediately to the Queen's presence."
"Be not rash, Raleigh," said Blount, "remember his boots.--For Heaven'ssake, go to my chamber, dear Tressilian, and don my new bloom-colouredsilken hose; I have worn them but twice."
"Pshaw!" answered Tressilian; "do thou take care of this boy, Blount; bekind to him, and look he escapes you not--much depends on him."
So saying, he followed Raleigh hastily, leaving honest Blount with thebridle of his horse in one hand, and the boy in the other. Blount gave along look after him.
"Nobody," he said, "calls me to these mysteries--and he leaves me hereto play horse-keeper and child-keeper at once. I could excuse the one,for I love a good horse naturally; but to be plagued with a bratchetwhelp.--Whence come ye, my fair-favoured little gossip?"
"From the Fens," answered the boy.
"And what didst thou learn there, forward imp?"
"To catch gulls, with their webbed feet and yellow stockings," said theboy.
"Umph!" said Blount, looking down on his own immense roses. "Nay, then,the devil take him asks thee more questions."
Meantime Tressilian traversed the full length of the Great Hall,in which the astonished courtiers formed various groups, and werewhispering mysteriously together, while all kept their eyes fixed onthe door which led from the upper end of the hall into the Queen'swithdrawing apartment. Raleigh pointed to the door. Tressilian knocked,and was instantly admitted. Many a neck was stretched to gain a viewinto the interior of the apartment; but the tapestry which coveredthe door on the inside was dropped too suddenly to admit the slightestgratification of curiosity.
Upon entrance, Tressilian found himself, not without a strongpalpitation of heart, in the presence of Elizabeth, who was walking toand fro in a violent agitation, which she seemed to scorn to conceal,while two or three of her most sage and confidential counsellorsexchanged anxious looks with each other, but delayed speaking till herwrath abated. Before the empty chair of state in which she had beenseated, and which was half pushed aside by the violence with which shehad started from it, knelt Leicester, his arms crossed, and hisbrows bent on the ground, still and motionless as the effigies upon asepulchre. Beside him stood the Lord Shrewsbury, then Earl Marshal ofEngland, holding his baton of office. The Earl's sword was unbuckled,and lay before him on the floor.
"Ho, sir!" said the Queen, coming close up to Tressilian, and stampingon the floor with the action and manner of Henry himself; "you knew ofthis fair work--you are an accomplice in this deception which has beenpractised on us--you have been a main cause of our doing injustice?"Tressilian dropped on his knee before the Queen, his good sense showinghim the risk of attempting any defence at that moment of irritation."Art dumb, sirrah?" she continued; "thou knowest of this affair dostthou not?"
"Not, gracious madam, that this poor lady was Countess of Leicester."
"Nor shall any one know her for such," said Elizabeth. "Death of mylife! Countess of Leicester!--I say Dame Amy Dudley; and well if shehave not cause to write herself widow of the traitor Robert Dudley."
"Madam," said Leicester, "do with me what it may be your will to do, butwork no injury on this gentleman; he hath in no way deserved it."
"And will he be the better for thy intercession," said the Queen,leaving Tressilian, who slowly arose, and rushing to Leicester, whocontinued kneeling--"the better for thy intercession, thou doublyfalse--thou doubly forsworn;--of thy intercession, whose villainy hathmade me ridiculous to my subjects and odious to myself? I could tear outmine eyes for their blindness!"
Burleigh here ventured to interpose.
"Madam," he said, "remember that you are a Queen--Queen ofEngland--mother of your people. Give not way to this wild storm ofpassion."
Elizabeth turned round to him, while a tear actually twinkled in herproud and angry eye. "Burleigh," she said, "thou art a statesman--thoudost not, thou canst not, comprehend half the scorn, half the misery,that man has poured on me!"
With the utmost caution--with the deepest reverence--Burleigh took herhand at the moment he saw her heart was at the fullest, and led heraside to an oriel window, apart from the others.
"Madam," he said, "I am a statesman, but I am also a man--a man alreadygrown old in your councils--who have not and cannot have a wish on earthbut your glory and happiness; I pray you to be composed."
"Ah! Burleigh," said Elizabeth, "thou little knowest--" here her tearsfell over her cheeks in despite of her.
"I do--I do know, my honoured sovereign. Oh, beware that you lead notothers to guess that which they know not!"
"Ha!" said Elizabeth, pausing as if a new train of thought hadsuddenly shot across her brain. "Burleigh, thou art right--thouart right--anything but disgrace--anything but a confession ofweakness--anything rather than seem the cheated, slighted--'sdeath! tothink on it is distraction!"
"Be but yourself, my Queen," said Burleigh; "and soar far above aweakness which no Englishman will ever believe his Elizabeth could haveentertained, unless the violence of her disappointment carries a sadconviction to his bosom."
"What weakness, my lord?" said Elizabeth haughtily; "would you tooinsinuate that the favour in which I held yonder proud traitor derivedits source from aught--" But here she could no longer sustain the proudtone which she had assumed, and again softened as she said, "But whyshould I strive to deceive even thee, my good and wise servant?"
Burleigh stooped to kiss her hand with affection, and--rare in theannals of courts--a tear of true sympathy dropped from the eye of theminister on the hand of his Sovereign.
It is probable that the consciousness of possessing this sympathy aidedElizabeth in supporting her mortification, and suppressing her extremeresentment; but she was still more moved by fear that her passion shouldbetray to the public the affront and the disappointment, which, alikeas a woman and a Queen, she was so anxious to conceal. She turned fromBurleigh, and sternly paced the hall till her features had recoveredtheir usual dignity, and her mien its wonted stateliness of regularmotion.
"Our Sovereign is her noble self once more," whispered Burleigh toWalsingham; "mark what she does, and take heed you thwart her not."
She then approached Leicester, and said with calmness, "My LordShrewsbury, we discharge you of your prisoner.--My Lord of Leicester,rise and take up your sword; a quarter of an hour's restraint underthe custody of our Marshal, my lord, is, we think, no high penance formonths of falsehood practised upon us. We will now hear the progressof this affair." She then seated herself in her chair, and said, "You,Tressilian, step forward, and say what you know."
Tressilian told his story generously, suppressing as much as he couldwhat affected Leicester, and saying nothing of their having twiceactually fought together. It is very probable that, in doing so, he didthe Earl good service; for had the Queen at that instant found anythingon account of which she could vent her wrath upon him, without layingopen sentiments of which she was ashamed, it might have fared hard withhim. She paused when Tressilian had finished his tale.
"We will take that Wayland," she said, "into our own service, and placethe boy in our Secretary office for instruction, that he may in futureuse discretion towards letters. For you, Tressilian, you did wrong innot communicating the whole truth to us, and your promise not to do sowas both imprudent and undutiful. Yet, having given your word to thisunhappy lady, it was the part of a man and a gentleman to keep it; andon the whole, we esteem you for the character you have sustained in thismatter.--My Lord of Leicester, it is now your turn to tell us the truth,an exercise to which you seem of late to have been too much a stranger."
Accordingly, she extorted, by successive questions, the whole historyof his first acquaintance with Amy Robsart--their marriage--hisjealousy--the causes on which it was founded, and many particularsbesides. Leicester's confession, for such it might be called, waswrenched from him piecemeal, yet was upon the whole accurate, exceptingthat he totally omitted to mention that he had, by implication orotherwise, assented to Varney's designs upon the life of his Countess.Yet the consciousness of this was what at that moment lay nearest tohis heart; and although he trusted in great measure to the very positivecounter-orders which he had sent by Lambourne, it was his purpose to setout for Cumnor Place in person as soon as he should be dismissed fromthe presence of the Queen, who, he concluded, would presently leaveKenilworth.
But the Earl reckoned without his host. It is true his presence and hiscommunications were gall and wormwood to his once partial mistress.But barred from every other and more direct mode of revenge, the Queenperceived that she gave her false suitor torture by these inquiries,and dwelt on them for that reason, no more regarding the pain which sheherself experienced, than the savage cares for the searing of his ownhands by grasping the hot pincers with which he tears the flesh of hiscaptive enemy.
At length, however, the haughty lord, like a deer that turns to bay,gave intimation that his patience was failing. "Madam," he said, "I havebeen much to blame--more than even your just resentment has expressed.Yet, madam, let me say that my guilt, if it be unpardonable, was notunprovoked, and that if beauty and condescending dignity could seducethe frail heart of a human being, I might plead both as the causes of myconcealing this secret from your Majesty."
The Queen was so much struck with this reply, which Leicester tookcare should be heard by no one but herself, that she was for the momentsilenced, and the Earl had the temerity to pursue his advantage. "YourGrace, who has pardoned so much, will excuse my throwing myself on yourroyal mercy for those expressions which were yester-morning accountedbut a light offence."
The Queen fixed her eyes on him while she replied, "Now, by Heaven, mylord, thy effrontery passes the bounds of belief, as well as patience!But it shall avail thee nothing.--What ho! my lords, come all and hearthe news-my Lord of Leicester's stolen marriage has cost me a husband,and England a king. His lordship is patriarchal in his tastes--one wifeat a time was insufficient, and he designed US the honour of his lefthand. Now, is not this too insolent--that I could not grace him witha few marks of court-favour, but he must presume to think my hand andcrown at his disposal? You, however, think better of me; and I can pitythis ambitious man, as I could a child, whose bubble of soap has burstbetween his hands. We go to the presence-chamber.--My Lord of Leicester,we command your close attendance on us."
All was eager expectation in the hall, and what was the universalastonishment when the Queen said to those next her, "The revels ofKenilworth are not yet exhausted, my lords and ladies--we are tosolemnize the noble owner's marriage."
There was an universal expression of surprise.
"It is true, on our royal word," said the Queen; "he hath kept thisa secret even from us, that he might surprise us with it at this veryplace and time. I see you are dying of curiosity to know the happybride. It is Amy Robsart, the same who, to make up the May-gameyesterday, figured in the pageant as the wife of his servant Varney."
"For God's sake, madam," said the Earl, approaching her with a mixtureof humility, vexation, and shame in his countenance, and speaking so lowas to be heard by no one else, "take my head, as you threatened in youranger, and spare me these taunts! Urge not a falling man--tread not on acrushed worm."
"A worm, my lord?" said the Queen, in the same tone; "nay, a snake isthe nobler reptile, and the more exact similitude--the frozen snake youwot of, which was warmed in a certain bosom--"
"For your own sake--for mine, madam," said the Earl--"while there is yetsome reason left in me--"
"Speak aloud, my lord," said Elizabeth, "and at farther distance, soplease you--your breath thaws our ruff. What have you to ask of us?"
"Permission," said the unfortunate Earl humbly, "to travel to CumnorPlace."
"To fetch home your bride belike?--Why, ay--that is but right, for, aswe have heard, she is indifferently cared for there. But, my lord, yougo not in person; we have counted upon passing certain days in thisCastle of Kenilworth, and it were slight courtesy to leave us without alandlord during our residence here. Under your favour, we cannot thinkto incur such disgrace in the eyes of our subjects. Tressilian shallgo to Cumnor Place instead of you, and with him some gentleman who hathbeen sworn of our chamber, lest my Lord of Leicester should be againjealous of his old rival.--Whom wouldst thou have to be in commissionwith thee, Tressilian?"
Tressilian, with humble deference, suggested the name of Raleigh.
"Why, ay," said the Queen; "so God ha' me, thou hast made a good choice.He is a young knight besides, and to deliver a lady from prison isan appropriate first adventure.--Cumnor Place is little better than aprison, you are to know, my lords and ladies. Besides, there are certainfaitours there whom we would willingly have in safe keeping. You willfurnish them, Master Secretary, with the warrant necessary to secure thebodies of Richard Varney and the foreign Alasco, dead or alive. Takea sufficient force with you, gentlemen--bring the lady here in allhonour--lose no time, and God be with you!"
They bowed, and left the presence,
Who shall describe how the rest of that day was spent at Kenilworth?The Queen, who seemed to have remained there for the sole purpose ofmortifying and taunting the Earl of Leicester, showed herself as skilfulin that female art of vengeance, as she was in the science of wiselygoverning her people. The train of state soon caught the signal, and ashe walked among his own splendid preparations, the Lord of Kenilworth,in his own Castle, already experienced the lot of a disgraced courtier,in the slight regard and cold manners of alienated friends, and theill-concealed triumph of avowed and open enemies. Sussex, from hisnatural military frankness of disposition, Burleigh and Walsingham, fromtheir penetrating and prospective sagacity, and some of the ladies, fromthe compassion of their sex, were the only persons in the crowded courtwho retained towards him the countenance they had borne in the morning.
So much had Leicester been accustomed to consider court favour as theprincipal object of his life, that all other sensations were, for thetime, lost in the agony which his haughty spirit felt at the successionof petty insults and studied neglects to which he had been subjected;but when he retired to his own chamber for the night, that long,fair tress of hair which had once secured Amy's letter
fell under hisobservation, and, with the influence of a counter-charm, awakened hisheart to nobler and more natural feelings. He kissed it a thousandtimes; and while he recollected that he had it always in his power toshun the mortifications which he had that day undergone, by retiringinto a dignified and even prince-like seclusion with the beautiful andbeloved partner of his future life, he felt that he could rise above therevenge which Elizabeth had condescended to take.
Accordingly, on the following day the whole conduct of the Earldisplayed so much dignified equanimity--he seemed so solicitous aboutthe accommodations and amusements of his guests, yet so indifferent totheir personal demeanour towards him--so respectfully distant to theQueen, yet so patient of her harassing displeasure--that Elizabethchanged her manner to him, and, though cold and distant, ceased to offerhim any direct affront. She intimated also with some sharpness to othersaround her, who thought they were consulting her pleasure in showing aneglectful conduct to the Earl, that while they remained at Kenilworththey ought to show the civility due from guests to the Lord of theCastle. In short, matters were so far changed in twenty-four hours thatsome of the more experienced and sagacious courtiers foresaw a strongpossibility of Leicester's restoration to favour, and regulated theirdemeanour towards him, as those who might one day claim merit for nothaving deserted him in adversity. It is time, however, to leave theseintrigues, and follow Tressilian and Raleigh on their journey.
The troop consisted of six persons; for, besides Wayland, they hadin company a royal pursuivant and two stout serving-men. All werewell-armed, and travelled as fast as it was possible with justice totheir horses, which had a long journey before them. They endeavouredto procure some tidings as they rode along of Varney and his party, butcould hear none, as they had travelled in the dark. At a small villageabout twelve miles from Kenilworth, where they gave some refreshment totheir horses, a poor clergyman, the curate of the place, came out of asmall cottage, and entreated any of the company who might know aught ofsurgery to look in for an instant on a dying man.
The empiric Wayland undertook to do his best, and as the curateconducted him to the spot, he learned that the man had been found onthe highroad, about a mile from the village, by labourers, as they weregoing to their work on the preceding morning, and the curate had givenhim shelter in his house. He had received a gun-shot wound, which seemedto be obviously mortal; but whether in a brawl or from robbers theycould not learn, as he was in a fever, and spoke nothing connectedly.Wayland entered the dark and lowly apartment, and no sooner had thecurate drawn aside the curtain than he knew, in the distorted featuresof the patient, the countenance of Michael Lambourne. Under pretenceof seeking something which he wanted, Wayland hastily apprisedhis fellow-travellers of this extraordinary circumstance; and bothTressilian and Raleigh, full of boding apprehensions, hastened to thecurate's house to see the dying man.
The wretch was by this time in the agonies of death, from which a muchbetter surgeon than Wayland could not have rescued him, for the bullethad passed clear through his body. He was sensible, however, at least inpart, for he knew Tressilian, and made signs that he wished him to stoopover his bed. Tressilian did so, and after some inarticulate murmurs, inwhich the names of Varney and Lady Leicester were alone distinguishable,Lambourne bade him "make haste, or he would come too late." It was invain Tressilian urged the patient for further information; he seemedto become in some degree delirious, and when he again made a signal toattract Tressilian's attention, it was only for the purpose of desiringhim to inform his uncle, Giles Gosling of the Black Bear, that "he haddied without his shoes after all." A convulsion verified his words a fewminutes after, and the travellers derived nothing from having met withhim, saving the obscure fears concerning the fate of the Countess, whichhis dying words were calculated to convey, and which induced them tourge their journey with the utmost speed, pressing horses in the Queen'sname when those which they rode became unfit for service.