When Knighthood Was in Flower

  _CHAPTER XVIII_

  _To the Tower_

  Whether or not Brandon would have found some way to deliver theprincess safely home, and still make his escape, I cannot say, as hesoon had no choice in the matter. At midnight a body of yeomen fromthe tower took possession of the Bow and String, and carried Brandonoff to London without communication with Mary. She did, not know ofhis arrest until next morning, when she was informed that she was tofollow immediately, and her heart was nearly broken.

  Here again was trouble for Mary. She felt, however, that the two greatquestions, the marriage of herself to Louis, and Brandon to any otherperson, were, as she called it, "settled"; and was almost content toendure this as a mere putting off of her desires--a meddlesome andimpertinent interference of the Fates, who would soon learn with whomthey were dealing, and amend their conduct.

  She did not understand the consequences for Brandon, nor that theFates would have to change their purpose very quickly or somethingwould happen worse, even, than his marriage to another woman.

  On the second morning after leaving Bristol, Brandon reached London,and, as he expected, was sent to the Tower. The next evening LadyMary arrived and was taken down to Greenwich.

  The girl's fair name was, of course, lost--but, fortunately, that goesfor little with a princess--since no one would believe that Brandonhad protected her against himself as valiantly and honorably as hewould against another. The princess being much more unsophisticatedthan the courtiers were ready to believe, never thought of sayinganything to establish her innocence or virtue, and her silence was putdown to shame and taken as evidence against her.

  Jane met Mary at Windsor, and, of course, there was a great flood oftears.

  Upon arriving at the palace, the girls were left to themselves, uponMary's promise not to leave her room; but, by the next afternoon, she,having been unable to learn anything concerning Brandon, broke herparole and went out to see the king.

  It never occurred to Mary that Brandon might suffer death forattempting to run away with her. She knew only too well that she alonewas to blame, not only for that, but for all that had taken placebetween them, and never for one moment thought that he might bepunished for her fault, even admitting there was fault in any one,which she was by no means ready to do.

  The trouble in her mind, growing out of a lack of news from Brandon,was of a general nature, and the possibility of his death had no placein her thoughts. Nevertheless, for the second time, Brandon had beencondemned to die for her sake. The king's seal had stamped the warrantfor the execution, and the headsman had sharpened his ax and couldalmost count the golden fee for his butchery.

  Mary found the king playing cards with de Longueville. There was aroomful of courtiers, and as she entered she was the target for everyeye; but she was on familiar ground now, and did not care for theglances nor the observers, most of whom she despised. She was theprincess again and full of self-confidence; so she went straight tothe object of her visit, the king. She had not made up her mind justwhat to say first, there was so much; but Henry saved her the trouble.He, of course, was in a great rage, and denounced Mary's conduct asunnatural and treasonable; the latter, in Henry's mind, being a crimemany times greater than the breaking of all the commandments puttogether, in one fell, composite act. All this the king hadcommunicated to Mary by the lips of Wolsey the evening before, andMary had received it with a silent scorn that would have withered anyone but the worthy bishop of York. As I said, when Mary approached herbrother, he saved her the trouble of deciding where to begin byspeaking first himself, and his words were of a part with hisnature--violent, cruel and vulgar. He abused her and called her allthe vile names in his ample vocabulary of billingsgate. The queen waspresent and aided and abetted with a word now and then, until Henry,with her help, at last succeeded in working himself into a toweringpassion, and wound up by calling Mary a vile wanton in plainer termsthan I like to write. This aroused all the antagonism in the girl, andthere was plenty of it. She feared Henry no more than she feared me.Her eyes flashed a fire that made even the king draw back as sheexclaimed: "You give me that name and expect me to remember you are mybrother? There are words that make a mother hate her first-born, andthat is one. Tell me what I have done to deserve it? I expected tohear of ingratitude and disobedience and all that, but supposed youhad at least some traces of brotherly feeling--for ties of blood arehard to break--even if you have of late lost all semblance to man orking."

  This was hitting Henry hard, for it was beginning to be the talk inevery mouth that he was leaving all the affairs of state to Wolsey andspending his time in puerile amusement. "The toward hope which at allpoyntes appeared in the younge Kynge" was beginning to look, afterall, like nothing more than the old-time royal cold fire, made toconsume but not to warm the nation.

  Henry looked at Mary with the stare of a baited bull.

  "If running off in male attire, and stopping at inns and boardingships with a common Captain of the guard doesn't justify myaccusation and stamp you what you are, I do not know what would."

  Even Henry saw her innocence in her genuine surprise. She was silentfor a little time, and I, standing close to her, could plainly seethat this phase of the question had never before presented itself.

  She hung her head for a moment and then spoke: "It may be true, as yousay, that what I have done will lose me my fair name--I had neverthought of it in that light--but it is also true that I am innocentand have done no wrong. You may not believe me, but you can ask MasterBrandon"--here the king gave a great laugh, and of course thecourtiers joined in.

  "It is all very well for you to laugh, but Master Brandon would nottell you a lie for your crown--" Gods! I could have fallen on my kneesto a faith like that--"What I tell you is true. I trusted him socompletely that the fear of dishonor at his hands never suggesteditself to me. I knew he would care for and respect me. I trusted him,and my trust was not misplaced. Of how many of these creatures wholaugh when the king laughs could I say as much?" And Henry knew shespoke the truth, both concerning herself and the courtiers.

  With downcast eyes she continued: "I suppose, after all, you arepartly right in regard to me; for it was his honor that saved me, notmy own; and if I am not what you called me I have Master Brandon tothank--not myself."

  "We will thank him publicly on Tower Hill, day after to-morrow, atnoon," said the king, with his accustomed delicacy, breaking the newsof Brandon's sentence as abruptly as possible.

  With a look of terror in her eyes, Mary screamed: "What! CharlesBrandon.... Tower Hill?... You are going to kill him?"

  "I think we will," responded Henry; "it usually has that effect, toseparate the head from the body and quarter the remains to decoratethe four gates. We will take you up to London in a day or two and letyou see his beautiful head on the bridge."

  "Behead--quarter--bridge! Lord Jesu!" She could not grasp the thought;she tried to speak, but the words would not come. In a moment shebecame more coherent, and the words rolled from her lips as a mightyflood tide pours back through the arches of London Bridge.

  "You shall not kill him; he is blameless; you do not know. Drive thesegawking fools out of the room, and I will tell you all." The kingordered the room cleared of everybody but Wolsey, Jane and myself, whoremained at Mary's request. When all were gone, the princesscontinued: "Brother, this man is in no way to blame; it is all myfault--my fault that he loves me; my fault that he tried to run awayto New Spain with me. It may be that I have done wrong and that myconduct has been unmaidenly, but I could not help it. From the firsttime I ever saw him in the lists with you at Windsor there was agnawing hunger in my heart beyond my control. I supposed, of course,that day he would contrive some way to be presented to me...."

  "You did?"

  "Yes, but he made no effort at all, and when we met he treated me asif I were an ordinary girl."

  "He did?"

  "Yes."

  "Horrible."

  Mary was too intent on her story to heed the sarcasm, and
continued:"That made me all the more interested in him since it showed that hewas different from the wretches who beset you and me with theirflattery, and I soon began to seek him on every occasion. This is anunmaidenly history I am giving, I know, but it is the truth, and mustbe told. I was satisfied at first if I could only be in the same roomwith him, and see his face, and hear his voice. The very air hebreathed was like an elixir for me. I made every excuse to have himnear me; I asked him to my parlor--you know about that--and--and didall I could to be with him. At first he was gentle and kind, but soon,I think, he saw the dawning danger in both our hearts, as I too sawit, and he avoided me in every way he could, knowing the trouble itheld for us both. Oh! he was the wiser--and to think to what I havebrought him. Brother, let me die for him--I who alone am to blame;take my life and spare him--spare him! He was the wiser, but I doubtif all the wisdom in the world could have saved us. He almost insultedme once in the park--told me to leave him--when it hurt him more thanme, I am now sure; but he did it to keep matters from growing worsebetween us. I tried to remember the affront, but could not, and had hestruck me I believe I should have gone back to him sooner or later.Oh! it was all my fault; I would not let him save himself. So strongwas my feeling that I could bear his silence no longer, and one day Iwent to him in your bed-chamber ante-room and fairly thrust myself andmy love upon him. Then, after he was liberated from Newgate, I couldnot induce him to come to me, so I went to him and begged for hislove. Then I coaxed him into taking me to New Spain, and would listento no excuse and hear no reason. Now lives there another man who wouldhave taken so much coaxing?"

  "No! by heaven! your majesty," said Wolsey, who really had a kindlyfeeling for Brandon and would gladly save his life, if, by so doing,he would not interfere with any of his own plans and interests.Wolsey's heart was naturally kind when it cost him nothing, and muchhas been related of him, which, to say the least, tells a great dealmore than the truth. Ingratitude always recoils upon the ingrate, andHenry's loss was greater than Wolsey's when Wolsey fell.

  Henry really liked, or, rather, admired, Brandon, as had often beenshown, but his nature was incapable of real affection. The highestpoint he ever reached was admiration, often quite extravagant for atime, but usually short-lived, as naked admiration is apt to be. If hehad affection for any one it was for Mary. He could not but see thejustice of his sister's position, but he had no intention of allowingjustice, in the sense of right, to interfere with justice in the senseof the king's will.

  "You have been playing the devil at a great rate," he said, "You havedisobeyed your brother and your king; have disgraced yourself; haveprobably made trouble between us and France, for if Louis refuses totake you now I will cram you down his throat; and by your own storyhave led a good man to the block. Quite a budget of evils for onewoman to open. But I have noticed that the trouble a woman can make isin proportion to her beauty, and no wonder my little sister has madeso much disturbance. It is strange, though, that he should so affectyou. Master Wolsey, surely there has been witchery here. He must haveused it abundantly to cast such a spell over my sister." Then turningto the princess: "Was it at any time possible for him to have givenyou a love powder; or did he ever make any signs or passes over you?"

  "Oh, no! nothing of that sort. I never ate or drank anything which hecould possibly have touched. And as to signs and passes, I know henever made any. Sir Edwin, you were always present when I was with himuntil after we left for Bristol; did you ever see anything of thesort?"

  I answered "No," and she went on. "Besides, I do not believe much insigns and passes. No one can affect others unless he can induce themto eat or drink something in which he has placed a love powder orpotion. Then again, Master Brandon did not want me to love him, andsurely would not have used such a method to gain what he could havehad freely without it."

  I noticed that Henry's mind had wandered from what Mary was saying,and that his eyes were fixed upon me with a thoughtful, half vicious,inquiring stare that I did not like. I wondered what was coming next,but my curiosity was more than satisfied when the king asked: "SoCaskoden was present at all your interviews?"

  Ah! Holy Mother! I knew what was coming now, and actually began toshrivel with fright. The king continued: "I suppose he helped you toescape?"

  I thought my day had come, but Mary's wit was equal to the occasion.With an expression on her face of the most dove-like innocence, shequickly said:

  "Oh! no! neither he nor Jane knew anything of it. We were afraid theymight divulge it."

  Shade of Sapphira!

  A lie is a pretty good thing, too, now and then, and the man who saysthat word of Mary's was not a blessed lie, must fight me with lance,battle-ax, sword and dagger till one or the other of us bites the dustin death, be he great or small.

  "I am glad to learn that you knew nothing of it," said Henry,addressing me; and I was glad, too, for him to learn it, you may besure.

  Then spoke Wolsey: "If your majesty will permit, I would say that Iquite agree with you; there has been witchery here--witchery of themost potent kind; the witchery of lustrous eyes, of fair skin and rosylips; the witchery of all that is sweet and intoxicating in womanhood,but Master Brandon has been the victim of this potent spell, not theuser of it. One look upon your sister standing there, and I know yourmajesty will agree that Brandon had no choice against her."

  "Perhaps you are right," returned Henry.

  Then spoke Mary, all unconscious of her girlish egotism: "Of course hehad not. Master Brandon could not help it." Which was true beyond alldoubt.

  Henry laughed at her naivete, and Wolsey's lips wore a smile, as heplucked the king by the sleeve and took him over to the window, out ofour hearing.

  Mary began to weep and show signs of increasing agitation.

  After a short whispered conversation, the king and Wolsey came backand the former said: "Sister, if I promise to give Brandon his life,will you consent decently and like a good girl to marry Louis ofFrance?"

  Mary almost screamed, "Yes, yes; gladly; I will do anything you ask,"and fell at his feet hysterically embracing his knees.

  As the king stooped and lifted her to her feet, he kissed her, saying:"His life shall be spared, my sweet sister." After this, Henry feltthat he had done a wonderfully gracious act and was thekindest-hearted prince in all Christendom.

  Poor Mary! Two mighty kings and their great ministers of state had atlast conquered you, but they had to strike you through your love--thevulnerable spot in every woman.

  Jane and I led Mary away through a side door and the king called forde Longueville to finish the interrupted game of cards.

  Before the play was resumed Wolsey stepped softly around to the kingand asked: "Shall I affix your majesty's seal to Brandon's pardon?"

  "Yes, but keep him in the Tower until Mary is off for France."

  Wolsey had certainly been a friend to Brandon in time of need, but, asusual, he had value received for his friendliness. He was an ardentadvocate of the French marriage, notwithstanding the fact he had toldMary he was not; having no doubt been bribed thereto by the Frenchking.

  The good bishop had, with the help of de Longueville, secretly sentMary's miniature to the French court in order that it might, as if byaccident, fall into the hands of Louis, and that worthy's little, old,shriveled heart began to flutter, just as if there could be kindled init a genuine flame.

  Louis had sent to de Longueville, who was then in England, forconfirmation of Mary's beauty, and de Longueville grew so eloquent onthe theme that his French majesty at once authorized negotiations.

  As reports came in Louis grew more and more impatient. This did not,however, stand in the way of his driving a hard bargain in the matterof dower, for "The Father of the People" had the characteristics ofhis race, and was intensely practical as well as inflammable. Theynever lose sight of the _dot_--but I do not find fault.

  Louis little knew what thorns this lovely rose had underneath hervelvet leaves, and what a veritable Tartar she would be, link
ed to theman she did not love; or he would have given Henry four hundredthousand crowns to keep her at home.