The Tangled Skein

  CHAPTER XX

  DEPARTURE

  Everingham could not leave the Palace without bidding farewell toWessex. For the first time in his life he wished to avoid his friend,yet feared to arouse suspicion, mistrust--what not? in the heart of theman whom he was so unwillingly helping to deceive. He half feared nowthe frank and searching eyes which had always rested on him withpeculiar kindness and friendship; he almost dreaded having to grasp theslender, aristocratic hand, which had ever been extended to him inloyalty and truth.

  Nevertheless in his heart there was no desire to draw back. During hislengthy colloquy with His Eminence he had weighed all the consequencesof his own actions; though misguided perhaps as to the means, led awayby a stronger will than his own, his purpose was pure and his aim high;and though he had tortured his brain with conjectures and fears, hecould not see any danger to Wessex in the intrigue devised against him.

  As for Lady Ursula, he swore to himself that no harm should ultimatelycome to her. She would be a tool, a necessary pawn in this game ofcross-purposes, which had the freedom and greatness of England for itsultimate aim.

  With a firm step Everingham reached the Great Hall, where one by one thecompany was slowly dispersing. The Earl of Pembroke had gone to hisrooms to prepare for the journey; his friends were ready in theFountain Court to bid him a final farewell. Some of the younger menwere still whispering in groups in various parts of the hall, whilstothers were continuing their game of hazard.

  Everingham took a rapid look round. There, in the embrasure on the dais,Wessex was conversing with the Earl of Oxford, whilst faithful HarryPlantagenet lay calmly sleeping at his feet. The Duke's grave facelighted up at sight of his friend.

  "I thought I should have missed you," he said, grasping the young manwarmly by the hand. "My lord of Oxford was just telling me that hethought you would be starting anon."

  "Should I have gone without your God-speed?"

  "I trust not indeed. But your game of chess, meseems, must have beenvery engrossing."

  Lord Everingham felt himself changing colour. Fortunately his back wasto the light, and the Duke could not have seen the slight start of alarmwhich followed his simple remark. In a flash Everingham had realized howtrue had been His Eminence's conjecture. Wessex had already heard of theinterview in the audience chamber. The game of chess had undoubtedlyproved a useful explanation for so unusual an incident.

  "Oh! His Eminence is passionately fond of the game," rejoined Everinghamas lightly as he could, "and I could not help but accede to his requestfor a final battle of skill with him, since probably I may not see himon my return."

  But he felt His Grace's earnest eyes fixed searchingly upon him. A wildlonging seized him to throw off the mantle of diplomacy, which becamehim so ill, and to give a word of timely warning to his friend. Thesight of the beautiful boarhound, so faithful, so watchful, at the feetof his master, became almost intolerable to his overwrought mind.Perhaps he would have spoken even now, at this eleventh hour, when fromthe court outside there came the sharp sound of bugle-call.

  Harry Plantagenet, roused from his light sleep, had pricked his ears.

  "I fear me 'tis to horse, friend," said Wessex, with a light tone ofsadness, "Marry! it likes me not to see you depart. Harry Plantagenetand I will miss you sorely in this dull place, and I will miss yourloyal hand amongst so many enemies."

  "Enemies, my dear lord!" protested Everingham warmly. "Look around thisGreat Hall at this moment. Now that the foreign ambassadors havedeparted, do you see aught but friends? Nay more, adherents, partisans,faithful subjects, an you choose," he added significantly.

  "Friends to-day," mused His Grace, "enemies perhaps to-morrow."

  "Impossible."

  "Even if . . . But by the Lord Harry, this is no time to talk of myaffairs," rejoined Wessex light-heartedly. "Farewell, friends, andGod-speed. . . . Harry, make your bow to the most loyal man inEngland--you'll not see his like until he return from Scotland. In yourear, my dear lord, I pray you be not astonished if when that happyeventuality occurs, you find me no longer a free man. Come, Harry, shallwe bid him adieu at the gates?"

  He linked his arm in that of Everingham, the group of gentlemen partedto let him pass, then closed behind him, and followed him and his friendout of the hall. Every one was glad of a diversion from the oppressiveatmosphere of the last few hours. Many murmured: "God bless Your Grace!"as he passed through the brilliant assembly exchanging a word, a merryjest with his friends, a courteous bow or gracious smile with the casualacquaintances.

  His popularity at this moment was at its height. Nothing would havecaused greater joy in England than the announcement of his plightedtroth to the Queen. Yet if these gentlemen, who so eagerly pressed roundhim as he escorted his dearest friend through the hall, had been giftedwith the knowledge of their fellow-creatures' innermost thoughts, theymight have read in His Grace's heart the opening chapters of a romancewhich would have changed their enthusiasm into bitter disappointment.They would have seen that in that heart, wherein they hoped to see theirQueen enthroned, there now reigned a dainty image, that of a young girldressed in shimmering white, with ruddy golden hair falling looselyabout her shoulders, and deep, dark eyes, now blue, now grey, nowinscrutably black, the mirrors of a pure, innocent, joyous soul within.

  As for Everingham, all his desire to warn Wessex had vanished with thelatter's lightly spoken allusion to the incident of this afternoon. Hewas now only conscious of a desire to get away, and thus leave events toshape their course according to the dictates of my lord Cardinal.

  Everything was ready for the departure. The gentlemen who composed themission sent by Mary Tudor to the Queen Regent of Scotland wereproceeding to Edinburgh by water. They would ride to Greenwich to-night,then embark in the early dawn.

  The horses were pawing the ground impatiently; every one had assembledin the Fountain Court, which presented an animated and picturesquespectacle, with the crowd of servants and the numerous retinue which wasto accompany the Earl of Pembroke to Scotland. A number of torch-bearerslent fantastic aspect to the scene, for a lively breeze had sprung up,blowing the fitful flames hither and thither, bringing into bold reliefnow the richly caparisoned steed of one of the noblemen, now the steelhelmets of the military escort, anon throwing everything into deep,impenetrable shadow whilst touching with weird, red light somegrotesque vane or leaden waterspout on the walls of the Palace.

  The Earl of Pembroke took a long farewell from His Grace of Wessex.Himself one of the most fervent adherents of the Duke, he was longingfor a word, a promise however vague, that the much-desired alliancewould indeed soon take place.

  Wessex lingered some time beside Everingham. He seemed strangely loathto part from his fondest friend just now. The crowd around him werechattering merrily, the young men feeling the usual, naturalexhilaration of manhood at sight of this goodly cavalcade, and the soundof clattering arms, the champing of bits, and quick, sharp calls toassemble.

  Then, at a given moment, one of the bays of King Henry's presencechamber was thrown open, and the Queen herself appeared at the window. Ashout of welcome was raised, such as could only come from faithful andloyal hearts.

  Mary was surrounded by some of her ladies. The strong light of the roomwas behind her, so that she appeared as a silhouette, dignified, ratherstiff in her corseted panier of rich brocade, her head slightly bentforward as if in anxious search of some one in the crowd.

  "God bless our Queen," said the Duke of Wessex loudly, and the wordswere taken up again and again by two hundred lusty throats, gentlemenand servants all alike, and the cry echoed against the massive walls ofold Hampton Court like a solemn prayer.

  Not a few voices then added: "God bless His Grace of Wessex!" The Queenhad recognized the Duke's voice. When she heard this second cry, everyone noticed that she pressed her hand to her heart, as if overcome withemotion. Then she waved an adieu from the window and hastily retiredwithin.

  The signal for departure was given. A few belated g
entlemen quicklysprang to the stirrup--Everingham being among the last. With a deafeningnoise of clattering steel the military escort led the way, the halberdsgleaming like tongues of flame in the torchlight as the men-at-armslowered them in order to pass through the gates.

  Then followed the Earl of Pembroke with Lord Everingham by his side, andthe other gentlemen of the mission in close proximity. The retinue ofservants and another detachment of men-at-arms completed the cortege.

  Some of the younger men followed the cavalcade on foot through the gateand thence across the Base Court, even as far as the bridge and beyond.The older ones, however, began to disperse. With a sigh, the Duke ofWessex called to his dog, who had followed the exciting proceedings withthe keenest canine enthusiasm.

  "Ah, Harry, old friend!" he said with a tinge of sadness. "Why did notProvidence fashion my Grace into some humbler personality? You and Iwould have been the happier, methinks."

  Harry Plantagenet yawned ostentatiously in acquiescence, then heblinked, and seemed to say, as if in echo of his master's thoughts--

  "Marry! but there are compensations, you know!"

  "Only since this afternoon!" commented His Grace under his breath, as hefinally turned his steps in the direction of his own apartments.