A Ladder of Swords: A Tale of Love, Laughter and Tears

  XII

  As twilight was giving place to night Angele was roused from therevery into which she had fallen, by the Duke's Daughter, whowhispered to her that if she would have a pleasure given to but few,she would come quickly. Taking her hand, the Duke's Daughter--asbright and true and whimsical a spirit as ever lived in troubled daysand under the aegis of the sword--led her swiftly to the Queen'schamber. They did not enter, but waited in a quiet gallery.

  "The Queen is playing upon the virginals, and she playeth best whenalone; so stand you here by this tapestry, and you shall have rewardbeyond payment," said the Duke's Daughter.

  Angele had no thought that the Queen of her vanity had commandedthat she be placed there as though secretly, and she listeneddutifully at first; but presently her ears were ravished; and eventhe Duke's Daughter showed some surprise, for never had she heard theQueen play with such grace and feeling. The countenance of themusician was towards them, and, at last, as if by accident, Elizabethlooked up and saw the face of her lady.

  "Spy! spy!" she cried; "come hither--come hither, all of you!"

  When they had descended and knelt to her, she made as if she wouldpunish the Duke's Daughter by striking her with a scarf that lay ather hand, but to Angele she said:

  "How think you, then, hath that other greater skill--Darnley's wife,I mean?"

  "Not she or any other hath so delighted me," said Angele, withworship in her eyes--so doth talent to majesty become lifted beyondits measure.

  The Queen's eyes lighted. "We shall have dancing, then," she said."The dance hath charms for me. We shall not deny our youth. Theheart shall keep as young as the body."

  An instant later the room was full of dancers, and Elizabeth gave herhand to Leicester, who bent every faculty to pleasing her. His facehad darkened as he had seen Angele beside her, but the Queen'sgraciousness, whether assumed or real, had returned, and her facecarried a look of triumph and spirit and delight. Again and again sheglanced towards Angele, and what she saw evidently gave her pleasure,for she laughed and disported herself with grace and an agreeabletemper, and Leicester lent himself to her spirit with adroit wit andhumility. He had seen his mistake of the morning, and was now intentto restore himself to favor.

  He succeeded well, for the emotions roused in Elizabeth during theday, now heightened by vanity and emulation, found in him a centreupon which they could converge; and, in her mind, Angele, for thenonce, was disassociated from any thought of De la Foret. Leicester'sundoubted gifts were well and cautiously directed, and his gift ofassumed passion--his heart was facile, and his gallantry knew nobounds--was put to dexterous use, convincing for the moment. TheQueen seemed all complaisance again. Presently she had Angele broughtto her.

  "How doth her dance compare--she who hath wedded Darnley?"

  "She danceth not so high nor disposedly, with no such joyouslightness as your high Majesty, but yet she moveth withcircumspection."

  "Circumspection--circumspection--that is no gift in dancing, whichshould be wilful yet airily composed, thoughtless yet inducing.Circumspection!--in nothing else hath Mary shown it where she should.'Tis like this Queen perversely to make a psalm of dancing, and thenpirouette with sacred duty. But you have spoken the truth, and I amwell content. So get you to your rest."

  She tapped Angele's cheek. "You shall remain here to-night, 'tis toolate for you to be sent abroad."

  She was about to dismiss her, when there was a sudden stir. Cecilhad entered and was making his way to the Queen, followed by twostrangers. Elizabeth waited their approach.

  "Your gracious Majesty," said Cecil, in a voice none heard saveElizabeth, for all had fallen back at a wave of her hand, "the Queenof Scots is the mother of a fair son."

  Elizabeth's face flushed, then became pale, and she struck her kneewith her clinched hand. "Who bringeth the news?" she inquired, in asharp voice.

  "Sir Andrew Melvill here."

  "Who is with him yonder?"

  "One who hath been attached to the Queen of Scots."

  "He hath the ill look of such an one," she answered, and then saidbelow her breath, bitterly: "She hath a son--and I am but a barrenstock."

  Rising, she added, hurriedly, "We will speak to the people at the MayDay sports to-morrow. Let there be great feasting."

  She motioned to Sir Andrew Melvill to come forward, and with agesture of welcome and a promise of speech with him on the morrow shedismissed them.

  Since the two strangers had entered, Angele's eyes had been fastenedon the gentleman who accompanied Sir Andrew Melvill. Her first glanceat him had sent a chill through her, and she remained confused anddisturbed. In vain her memory strove to find where the man was set inher past. The time, the place, the event eluded her, but a sense offoreboding possessed her; and her eyes followed him with strainedanxiety as he retired from the presence.