Chapter the Thirty-First.
Poison'd--ill fare!--dead, forsook, cast off!-- KING JOHN.
However weary Roland Graeme might be of the Castle of Lochleven--howevermuch he might wish that the plan for Mary's escape had been perfected,I question if he ever awoke with more pleasing feelings than on themorning after George Douglas's plan for accomplishing her deliverancehad been frustrated. In the first place, he had the clearest convictionthat he had misunderstood the innuendo of the Abbot, and that theaffections of Douglas were fixed, not on Catherine Seyton, but on theQueen; and in the second place, from the sort of explanation which hadtaken place betwixt the steward and him, he felt himself at liberty,without any breach of honour towards the family of Lochleven, tocontribute his best aid to any scheme which should in future be formedfor the Queen's escape; and, independently of the good-will which hehimself had to the enterprise, he knew he could find no surer road tothe favour of Catherine Seyton. He now sought but an opportunity toinform her that he had dedicated himself to this task, and fortune waspropitious in affording him one which was unusually favourable.
At the ordinary hour of breakfast, it was introduced by the steward withhis usual forms, who, as soon as it was placed on the board in the innerapartment, said to Roland Graeme, with a glance of sarcastic import, "Ileave you, my young sir, to do the office of sewer--it has been too longrendered to the Lady Mary by one belonging to the house of Douglas."
"Were it the prime and principal who ever bore the name," said Roland,"the office were an honour to him."
The steward departed without replying to this bravade, otherwise thanby a dark look of scorn. Graeme, thus left alone, busied himself as oneengaged in a labour of love, to imitate, as well as he could, thegrace and courtesy with which George of Douglas was wont to render hisceremonial service at meals to the Queen of Scotland. There was morethan youthful vanity--there was a generous devotion in the feeling withwhich he took up the task, as a brave soldier assumes the place of acomrade who has fallen in the front of battle. "I am now," he said,"their only champion: and, come weal, come wo, I will be, to the bestof my skill and power, as faithful, as trustworthy, as brave, as anyDouglas of them all could have been."
At this moment Catherine Seyton entered alone, contrary to her custom;and not less contrary to her custom, she entered with her kerchiefat her eyes. Roland Graeme approached her with beating heart and withdown-cast eyes, and asked her, in a low and hesitating voice, whetherthe Queen were well?
"Can you suppose it?" said Catherine. "Think you her heart and body areframed of steel and iron, to endure the cruel disappointment of yestereven, and the infamous taunts of yonder puritanic hag?--Would to Godthat I were a man, to aid her more effectually!"
"If those who carry pistols, and batons, and poniards," said the page,"are not men, they are at least Amazons; and that is as formidable."
"You are welcome to the flash of your wit, sir," replied the damsel; "Iam neither in spirits to enjoy, nor to reply to it."
"Well, then," said the page, "list to me in all serious truth. And,first, let me say, that the gear last night had been smoother, had youtaken me into your counsels."
"And so we meant; but who could have guessed that Master Page shouldchoose to pass all night in the garden, like some moon-stricken knightin a Spanish romance--instead of being in his bed-room, when Douglascame to hold communication with him on our project."
"And why," said the page, "defer to so late a moment so important aconfidence?"
"Because your communications with Henderson, and--with pardon--thenatural impetuosity and fickleness of your disposition, made us dread toentrust you with a secret of such consequence, till the last moment."
"And why at the last moment?" said the page, offended at this frankavowal; "why at that, or any other moment, since I had the misfortune toincur so much suspicion?"
"Nay--now you are angry again," said Catherine; "and to serve you arightI should break off this talk; but I will be magnanimous, and answer yourquestion. Know, then, our reason for trusting you was twofold. In thefirst place, we could scarce avoid it, since you slept in the roomthrough which we had to pass. In the second place----"
"Nay," said the page, "you may dispense with a second reason, when thefirst makes your confidence in me a case of necessity."
"Good now, hold thy peace," said Catherine. "In the second place, asI said before, there is one foolish person among us, who believes thatRoland Graeme's heart is warm, though his head is giddy--that his bloodis pure, though it boils too hastily--and that his faith and honourare true as the load-star, though his tongue sometimes is far less thandiscreet."
This avowal Catherine repeated in a low tone, with her eye fixed on thefloor, as if she shunned the glance of Roland while she suffered itto escape her lips--"And this single friend," exclaimed the youth inrapture; "this only one who would do justice to the poor Roland Graeme,and whose own generous heart taught her to distinguish between folliesof the brain and faults of the heart--Will you not tell me, dearestCatherine, to whom I owe my most grateful, my most heartfelt thanks?"
"Nay," said Catherine, with her eyes still fixed on the ground, "if yourown heart tell you not----"
"Dearest Catherine!" said the page, seizing upon her hand, and kneelingon one knee.
"If your own heart, I say, tell you not," said Catherine, gentlydisengaging her hand, "it is very ungrateful; for since the maternalkindness of the Lady Fleming----"
The page started on his feet. "By Heaven, Catherine, your tongue wearsas many disguises as your person! But you only mock me, cruel girl.You know the Lady Fleming has no more regard for any one, than hath theforlorn princess who is wrought into yonder piece of old figured courttapestry."
"It may be so," said Catherine Seyton, "but you should not speak soloud."
"Pshaw!" answered the page, but at the same time lowering his voice,"she cares for no one but herself and the Queen. And you know, besides,there is no one of you whose opinion I value, if I have not your own.No--not that of Queen Mary herself."
"The more shame for you, if it be so," said Catherine, with greatcomposure.
"Nay, but, fair Catherine," said the page, "why will you thus damp myardour, when I am devoting myself, body and soul, to the cause of yourmistress?"
"It is because in doing so," said Catherine, "you debase a cause sonoble, by naming along with it any lower or more selfish motive. Believeme," she said, with kindling eyes, and while the blood mantled on hercheek, "they think vilely and falsely of women--I mean of those whodeserve the name--who deem that they love the gratification of theirvanity, or the mean purpose of engrossing a lover's admiration andaffection, better than they love the virtue and honour of the man theymay be brought to prefer. He that serves his religion, his prince, andhis country, with ardour and devotion, need not plead his cause with thecommonplace rant of romantic passion--the woman whom he honours with hislove becomes his debtor, and her corresponding affection is engaged torepay his glorious toil."
"You hold a glorious prize for such toil," said the youth, bending hiseyes on her with enthusiasm.
"Only a heart which knows how to value it," said Catherine. "He thatshould free this injured Princess from these dungeons, and set her atliberty among her loyal and warlike nobles, whose hearts are burningto welcome her--where is the maiden in Scotland whom the love of such ahero would not honour, were she sprung from the blood royal of the land,and he the offspring of the poorest cottager that ever held a plough?"
"I am determined," said Roland, "to take the adventure. Tell me first,however, fair Catherine, and speak it as if you were confessing to thepriest--this poor Queen, I know she is unhappy--but, Catherine, do youhold her innocent? She is accused of murder."
"Do I hold the lamb guilty, because it is assailed by the wolf?"answered Catherine; "do I hold yonder sun polluted, because anearth-damp sullies his beams?"
The page sighed and looked down. "Would my conviction were as deepas thi
ne! But one thing is clear, that in this captivity she hathwrong--She rendered herself up, on a capitulation, and the terms havebeen refused her--I will embrace her quarrel to the death!"
"Will you--will you, indeed?" said Catherine, taking his hand in herturn. "Oh, be but firm in mind, as thou art bold in deed and quick inresolution; keep but thy plighted faith, and after ages shall honourthee as the saviour of Scotland!"
"But when I have toiled successfully to win that Leah, Honour, thou wiltnot, my Catherine," said the page, "condemn me to a new term of servicefor that Rachel, Love?"
"Of that," said Catherine, again extricating her hand from his grasp,"we shall have full time to speak; but Honour is the elder sister, andmust be won the first."
"I may not win her," answered the page; "but I will venture fairly forher, and man can do no more. And know, fair Catherine,--for you shallsee the very secret thought of my heart,--that not Honour only--notonly that other and fairer sister, whom you frown on me for so much asmentioning--but the stern commands of duty also, compel me to aid theQueen's deliverance."
"Indeed!" said Catherine; "you were wont to have doubts on that matter."
"Ay, but her life was not then threatened," replied Roland.
"And is it now more endangered than heretofore?" asked Catherine Seyton,in anxious terror.
"Be not alarmed," said the page; "but you heard the terms on which yourroyal mistress parted with the Lady of Lochleven?"
"Too well--but too well," said Catherine; "alas! that she cannot ruleher princely resentment, and refrain from encounters like these!"
"That hath passed betwixt them," said Roland, "for which woman neverforgives woman. I saw the Lady's brow turn pale, and then black, when,before all the menzie, and in her moment of power, the Queen humbled herto the dust by taxing her with her shame. And I heard the oath of deadlyresentment and revenge which she muttered in the ear of one, who by hisanswer will, I judge, be but too ready an executioner of her will."
"You terrify me," said Catherine.
"Do not so take it--call up the masculine part of your spirit--we willcounteract and defeat her plans, be they dangerous as they may. Why doyou look upon me thus, and weep?"
"Alas!" said Catherine, "because you stand there before me a living andbreathing man, in all the adventurous glow and enterprise of youth, yetstill possessing the frolic spirits of childhood--there you stand, fullalike of generous enterprise and childish recklessness; and if to-day,or to-morrow, or some such brief space, you lie a mangled and lifelesscorpse upon the floor of these hateful dungeons, who but CatherineSeyton will be the cause of your brave and gay career being broken shortas you start from the goal? Alas! she whom you have chosen to twine yourwreath, may too probably have to work your shroud!"
"And be it so, Catherine," said the page, in the full glow of youthfulenthusiasm; "and _do_ thou work my shroud! and if thou grace it withsuch tears as fall now at the thought, it will honour my remains morethan an earl's mantle would my living body. But shame on this faintnessof heart! the time craves a firmer mood--Be a woman, Catherine, orrather be a man--thou canst be a man if thou wilt."
Catherine dried her tears, and endeavoured to smile.
"You must not ask me," she said, "about that which so much disturbsyour mind; you shall know all in time--nay, you should know all now, butthat--Hush! here comes the Queen."
Mary entered from her apartment, paler than usual, and apparentlyexhausted by a sleepless night, and by the painful thoughts which hadill supplied the place of repose; yet the languor of her looks wasso far from impairing her beauty, that it only substituted the fraildelicacy of the lovely woman for the majestic grace of the Queen.Contrary to her wont, her toilette had been very hastily despatched,and her hair, which was usually dressed by Lady Fleming with great care,escaping from beneath the headtire, which had been hastily adjusted,fell in long and luxuriant tresses of Nature's own curling, over a neckand bosom which were somewhat less carefully veiled than usual.
As she stepped over the threshold of her apartment, Catherine, hastilydrying her tears, ran to meet her royal mistress, and having firstkneeled at her feet, and kissed her hand, instantly rose, and placingherself on the other side of the Queen, seemed anxious to divide withthe Lady Fleming the honour of supporting and assisting her. The page,on his part, advanced and put in order the chair of state, which sheusually occupied, and having placed the cushion and footstool for heraccommodation, stepped back, and stood ready for service in the placeusually occupied by his predecessor, the young Seneschal. Mary'seye rested an instant on him, and could not but remark the change ofpersons. Hers was not the female heart which could refuse compassion, atleast, to a gallant youth who had suffered in her cause, although hehad been guided in his enterprise by a too presumptuous passion; and thewords "Poor Douglas!" escaped from her lips, perhaps unconsciously, asshe leant herself back in her chair, and put the kerchief to her eyes.
"Yes, gracious madam," said Catherine, assuming a cheerful manner,in order to cheer her sovereign, "our gallant Knight is indeedbanished--the adventure was not reserved for him; but he has left behindhim a youthful Esquire, as much devoted to your Grace's service, andwho, by me, makes you tender of his hand and sword."
"If they may in aught avail your Grace," said Roland Graeme, bowingprofoundly.
"Alas!" said the Queen, "what needs this, Catherine?--why prepare newvictims to be involved in, and overwhelmed by, my cruel fortune?--werewe not better cease to struggle, and ourselves sink in the tide withoutfarther resistance, than thus drag into destruction with us everygenerous heart which makes an effort in our favour?--I have had but toomuch of plot and intrigue around me, since I was stretched an orphanchild in my very cradle, while contending nobles strove which shouldrule in the name of the unconscious innocent. Surely time it were thatall this busy and most dangerous coil should end. Let me call my prisona convent, and my seclusion a voluntary sequestration of myself from theworld and its ways."
"Speak not thus, madam, before your faithful servants," said Catherine,"to discourage their zeal at once, and to break their hearts. Daughterof Kings, be not in this hour so unkingly--Come, Roland, and let us, theyoungest of her followers, show ourselves worthy of her cause--let uskneel before her footstool, and implore her to be her own magnanimousself." And leading Roland Graeme to the Queen's seat, they both kneeleddown before her. Mary raised herself in her chair, and sat erect, while,extending one hand to be kissed by the page, she arranged with theother the clustering locks which shaded the bold yet lovely brow of thehigh-spirited Catherine.
"Alas! _ma mignone_," she said, for so in fondness she often called heryoung attendant, "that you should thus desperately mix with my unhappyfate the fortune of your young lives!--Are they not a lovely couple,my Fleming? and is it not heart-rending to think that I must be theirruin?"
"Not so," said Roland Graeme, "it is we, gracious Sovereign, who will beyour deliverers."
"_Ex oribus parvulorum!_" said the Queen, looking upward; "if it is bythe mouth of these children that Heaven calls me to resume the statelythoughts which become my birth and my rights, thou wilt grant them thyprotection, and to me the power of rewarding their zeal!"--Then turningto Fleming, she instantly added,--"Thou knowest, my friend, whetherto make those who have served me happy, was not ever Mary's favouritepastime. When I have been rebuked by the stern preachers of theCalvinistic heresy--when I have seen the fierce countenances of mynobles averted from me, has it not been because I mixed in the harmlesspleasures of the young and gay, and rather for the sake of theirhappiness than my own, have mingled in the masque, the song, or thedance, with the youth of my household? Well, I repent not of it--thoughKnox termed it sin, and Morton degradation--I was happy, because Isaw happiness around me; and woe betide the wretched jealousy that canextract guilt out of the overflowings of an unguarded gaiety!--Fleming,if we are restored to our throne, shall we not have one blithesome dayat a blithesome bridal, of which we must now name neither the bridenor the bridegroom? but that bri
degroom shall have the barony ofBlairgowrie, a fair gift even for a Queen to give, and that bride'schaplet shall be twined with the fairest pearls that ever were foundin the depths of Lochlomond; and thou thyself, Mary Fleming, the bestdresser of tires that ever busked the tresses of a Queen, and who wouldscorn to touch those of any woman of lower rank,--thou thyself shalt,for my love, twine them into the bride's tresses.--Look, my Fleming,suppose them such clustered locks as those of our Catherine, they wouldnot put shame upon thy skill."
So saying, she passed her hand fondly over the head of her youthfulfavourite, while her more aged attendant replied despondently, "Alas!madam, your thoughts stray far from home."
"They do, my Fleming," said the Queen; "but is it well or kind in you tocall them back?--God knows, they have kept the perch this night but tooclosely--Come, I will recall the gay vision, were it but to punish them.Yes, at that blithesome bridal, Mary herself shall forget the weightof sorrows, and the toil of state, and herself once more lead ameasure.--At whose wedding was it that we last danced, my Fleming?I think care has troubled my memory--yet something of it I shouldremember--canst thou not aid me?--I know thou canst."
"Alas! madam," replied the lady----
"What!" said Mary, "wilt thou not help us so far? this is a peevishadherence to thine own graver opinion, which holds our talk as folly.But thou art court-bred, and wilt well understand me when I say,the Queen _commands_ Lady Fleming to tell her where she led the last_branle_."
With a face deadly pale, and a mien as if she were about to sink intothe earth, the court-bred dame, no longer daring to refuse obedience,faltered out--"Gracious Lady--if my memory err not--it was at a masquein Holyrood--at the marriage of Sebastian."
The unhappy Queen, who had hitherto listened with a melancholy smile,provoked by the reluctance with which the Lady Fleming brought out herstory, at this ill-fated word interrupted her with a shriek so wildand loud that the vaulted apartment rang, and both Roland and Catherinesprang to their feet in the utmost terror and alarm. Meantime, Maryseemed, by the train of horrible ideas thus suddenly excited, surprisednot only beyond self-command, but for the moment beyond the verge ofreason.
"Traitress!" she said to the Lady Fleming, "thou wouldst slay thysovereign--Call my French guards--_a moi! a moi! mes Francais!_--Iam beset with traitors in mine own palace--they have murdered myhusband--Rescue! rescue for the Queen of Scotland!" She started up fromher chair--her features, late so exquisitely lovely in their paleness,now inflamed with the fury of frenzy, and resembling those of a Bellona."We will take the field ourself," she said; "warn the city--warn Lothianand Fife--saddle our Spanish barb, and bid French Paris see our petronelbe charged!--Better to die at the head of our brave Scotsmen, like ourgrandfather at Flodden, than of a broken heart, like our ill-starredfather!"
"Be patient--be composed, dearest Sovereign," said Catherine: and thenaddressing Lady Fleming angrily, she added, "How could you say aughtthat reminded her of her husband?"
The word reached the ear of the unhappy Princess, who caught it up,speaking with great rapidity. "Husband!--what husband?--Not his mostChristian Majesty--he is ill at ease--he cannot mount on horseback.--Nothim of the Lennox--but it was the Duke of Orkney thou wouldst say."
"For God's love, madam, be patient!" said the Lady Fleming.
But the Queen's excited imagination could by no entreaty be divertedfrom its course. "Bid him come hither to our aid," she said, "andbring with him his lambs, as he calls them--Bowton, Hay of Talla, BlackOrmiston, and his kinsman Hob--Fie! how swart they are, and how theysmell of sulphur! What! closeted with Morton? Nay, if the Douglas andthe Hepburn hatch the complot together, the bird, when it breaks theshell, will scare Scotland. Will it not, my Fleming?"
"She grows wilder and wilder," said Fleming; "we have too many hearersfor these strange words."
"Roland," said Catherine, "in the name of God, begone! You cannot aid ushere--Leave us to deal with her alone--Away--away!"
She thrust him to the door of the anteroom; yet even when he had enteredthat apartment, and shut the door, he could still hear the Queen talk ina loud and determined tone, as if giving forth orders, until at lengththe voice died away in a feeble and continued lamentation.
At this crisis Catherine entered the anteroom. "Be not too anxious," shesaid, "the crisis is now over; but keep the door fast--let no one enteruntil she is more composed."
"In the name of God, what does this mean?" said the page; "or what wasthere in the Lady Fleming's words to excite so wild a transport?"
"Oh, the Lady Fleming, the Lady Fleming," said Catherine, repeating thewords impatiently; "the Lady Fleming is a fool--she loves her mistress,yet knows so little how to express her love, that were the Queen to askher for very poison, she would deem it a point of duty not to resisther commands. I could have torn her starched head-tire from her formalhead--The Queen should have as soon had the heart out of my body, as theword Sebastian out of my lips--That that piece of weaved tapestry shouldbe a woman, and yet not have wit enough to tell a lie!"
"And what was this story of Sebastian?" said the page. "By Heaven,Catherine, you are all riddles alike!"
"You are as great a fool as Fleming," returned the impatient maiden;"know ye not, that on the night of Henry Darnley's murder, and at theblowing up of the Kirk of Field, the Queen's absence was owing to herattending on a masque at Holyrood, given by her to grace the marriage ofthis same Sebastian, who, himself a favoured servant, married one of herfemale attendants, who was near to her person?"
"By Saint Giles," said the page, "I wonder not at her passion, but onlymarvel by what forgetfulness it was that she could urge the Lady Flemingwith such a question."
"I cannot account for it," said Catherine; "but it seems as if greatand violent grief and horror sometimes obscure the memory, and spreada cloud like that of an exploding cannon, over the circumstances withwhich they are accompanied. But I may not stay here, where I came not tomoralize with your wisdom, but simply to cool my resentment against thatunwise Lady Fleming, which I think hath now somewhat abated, so that Ishall endure her presence without any desire to damage either her curchor vasquine. Meanwhile, keep fast that door--I would not for my lifethat any of these heretics saw her in the unhappy state, which, broughton her as it has been by the success of their own diabolical plottings,they would not stick to call, in their snuffling cant, the judgment ofProvidence."
She left the apartment just as the latch of the outward door wasraised from without. But the bolt which Roland had drawn on the inside,resisted the efforts of the person desirous to enter. "Who is there?"said Graeme aloud.
"It is I," replied the harsh and yet slow voice of the stewardDryfesdale.
"You cannot enter now," returned the youth.
"And wherefore?" demanded Dryfesdale, "seeing I come but to do my duty,and inquire what mean the shrieks from the apartment of the Moabitishwoman. Wherefore, I say, since such is mine errand, can I not enter?"
"Simply," replied the youth, "because the bolt is drawn, and I have nofancy to undo it. I have the right side of the door to-day, as you hadlast night."
"Thou art ill-advised, thou malapert boy," replied the steward, "tospeak to me in such fashion; but I shall inform my Lady of thineinsolence."
"The insolence," said the page, "is meant for thee only, in fair guerdonof thy discourtesy to me. For thy Lady's information, I have answer morecourteous--you may say that the Queen is ill at ease, and desires to bedisturbed neither by visits nor messages."
"I conjure you, in the name of God," said the old man, with moresolemnity in his tone than he had hitherto used, "to let me know if hermalady really gains power on her!"
"She will have no aid at your hand, or at your Lady's--wherefore,begone, and trouble us no more--we neither want, nor will accept of, aidat your hands."
With this positive reply, the steward, grumbling and dissatisfied,returned down stairs.