And so it came about that Francis and Devereaux proceeded to the camp at Tilbury, where the queen was at this time. She was dining in the tent of Lord Leicester, the lieutenant general of the land forces, herself being the generalissimo, when they arrived. There were present, beside the queen and the earl, Sir Francis Walsingham, who had come down from London for conference with the queen; Hatton, the vice chamberlain, the young Earl of Ess.e.x who, despite his inexperience, had been made the captain-general of the cavalry, and Lord Shrope, who had hastened to return to England upon hearing of his country"s peril. Francis flashed a glance of joyful recognition at him, but was deterred from other greeting by the presence of the queen.
Elizabeth had risen at their approach, and when the girl beheld her high pale forehead furrowed by lines of care, the lofty features sharpened by anxiety, she felt her heart glow toward her sovereign and the last feeling of animosity which had lain so long in her heart faded away never to return. It was therefore with a sincere feeling of reverence that she knelt before Elizabeth, who had shown herself at this time to be a true daughter of the lion-hearted Plantagenets.
"Ye bear messages from the lord admiral," cried the queen somewhat anxiously. "Rise, Edward Devereaux, and deliver thyself of them."
"Most gracious madam," said Edward, rising gracefully, "the strength of the enemy is broken. Dispirited and distraught they fly before the lord admiral. Madam, the Armada is no more. Here are letters writ by Lord Howard, in which he gives the victory in detail."
"Now G.o.d be praised," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the queen, "but this is news indeed. My Lord of Ess.e.x, do you spread the tidings throughout the camp that my loving people may rejoice with me. Thy indulgence, Master Devereaux, while I peruse my Lord Howard"s dispatches. Retain thy place that I may confer with thee later."
Rapidly she glanced over the epistles, and then turned to the a.s.sembled lords.
"My lords," she cried, "behold these lads! They have borne themselves with signal valor during the meeting with the Spaniards. They two, in company with two others of whom more anon, set fire to the ships which brought fear and panic into the fleet of the enemy. Which same device was recommended by us to the lord admiral. Speak, Edward Devereaux! What reward dost thou wish for thy service?"
"Thy pardon, Most Gracious Lady, for breaking the bounds in which you placed me."
"Ah, Ned, Ned," said Elizabeth with that archness which, despite her fifty-five years, she continued to employ, "didst thou not know that thy queen placed thee there for thy safety?"
"True, madam;" a.s.sented Devereaux. "But not the strongest dungeon of the Tower should have held me in durance when thy person, and my country were in danger."
"Thy silvery tongue no less than thy service doth well incline me to thy will, Ned," said she graciously. "Thou art forgiven. And thou?" she added turning to the kneeling girl. "Art thou not that Francis Stafford lately concerned in plot against our person?"
"I am that most unhappy being, madam," said Francis, rising and looking the queen steadfastly in the face. "I throw myself upon your mercy, Your Majesty, and crave forgiveness. My only plea for so great a fault is, that at that time I had not been brought near your person and knew you not. Had I known you I would never have transgressed. Do with me as you will. Return me to the Tower, or use your pleasure upon me in any fashion as seemeth best to you, only forgive me."
"Hast thy father schooled thee to speak thus?" demanded the queen.
"My father? Nay; I know not where he is. I have not seen him since I entered the Tower nearly two years ago," answered the girl.
The queen said something in a low tone to Lord Shrope. That n.o.bleman immediately left the tent, and all eyes centred expectantly upon the queen. Francis looked at her with a growing anxiety as she remained silent. Was she going to remand her to the Tower? Were not her services deserving of some recognition? What was meant by that continued stillness? The queen stood regarding her with those keen, piercing eyes whose fires age had not dimmed, and Francis met her gaze with a sort of fascination, her eyes dilated, her lips parted as she waited the issue.
Presently Lord Shrope reentered the tent and with him there came one at sight of whom Francis gave a great cry.
"My father!" And not even the presence of the queen could prevent her from running forward to embrace him. Her father gave no sign that he knew of her presence, but advancing to where the queen stood, knelt before her saying:
"You sent for me, Your Grace, and I am here."
"My Lord Stafford," said Elizabeth affably, "thou knowest that when thou didst present thyself before us, beseeching us to permit you to be of service in defending our person, that we agreed that time should prove thy worth. My lord, thou and thy son have redeemed yourselves n.o.bly in our eyes. Rise, my lord! You are restored to your right of blood and to your property. Thy son also hath our full and free forgiveness."
"Madam, thou art graciousness itself," said Lord Stafford kissing her hand. "I do repent me of all my transgression against you, but from this time forth, my queen, by the grace of G.o.d, you will have no stauncher subject than William Stafford. As for my daughter----"
"Thy daughter?" cried Elizabeth. "Thy daughter? What mean you, Stafford?"
"He means, Your Highness," cried Lord Shrope, "that his son is not a boy, but a girl."
"Hold thy tongue, Shrope!" commanded the queen sharply. "Thy wits are addled. Who is there who will read the riddle clearly? Thou, Francis Stafford?"
But Francis, utterly miserable in that her father took no notice of her, was sobbing bitterly and therefore could not reply.
"Let me read it, Your Majesty," said Lord Stafford, and receiving consent he related the whole story from the time of her coming to Stafford Hall, concluding with,
"I know not, Your Highness, why she doth continue to wear the garb unless from dire perversity----"
"Nay;" cried Francis, her spirit a.s.serting itself. ""Tis because "twas at thy bidding that I donned it, and I vowed never to remove it until thou didst bid me so to do. Oh, would that I had perished in battle ere thy hardness toward me should pierce me with such agony!" And she again gave way to her grief.
"Why, what hath she done, my lord?" asked the queen curiously.
"She betrayed my trust, Your Grace," answered Lord Stafford.
"Nay, Stafford," exclaimed both Walsingham and Lord Shrope together. "You wrong the girl."
"Wrong her?" asked Lord Stafford eagerly. "Speak, my lords! If ye can convince me of that ye shall remove all that my heart holdeth of bitterness. I long to take her to my breast again, but I would not so long as I believe that she betrayed trust."
"She would not betray thee, Stafford, even when threatened with torture,"
spoke the secretary. "My Lord Shrope can bear witness to the truth of what I speak."
With a bound Lord Stafford reached the weeping girl and caught her to him.
"My daughter! My daughter!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Say that you forgive me."
"And you do believe in me?" questioned Francis clinging to him convulsively. "Say that you do, my father."
"I do, I do, my child."
"My lord, we will permit you to retire until you are calmer," came from the queen.
"Thank her, Francis," said Lord Stafford leading the girl forward. "Thank our gracious queen who hath shown so much of kindness to us."
"There, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth as Francis with streaming eyes tried to articulate her grat.i.tude. ""Twill suffice for the present. We like thy spirit, and later will receive thee into service near us. When thou hast donned thy maiden attire we would see thee again. Though, by my faith, if all men would honor the garb as thou hast done, there would be few knaves in the kingdom."
"And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?" cried Edward Devereaux as, two days later, Francis stood on the banks of the river watching the queen as she embarked for London. "Upon my word, Francis; thy attire well becomes thee."
""Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?"" quoth the girl gaily turning a bright face toward him.
"Thine enemy, Francis?" said the youth reproachfully. "I thought that that had pa.s.sed. After all that we have been through together thou shouldst not call me so."
"And art thou not mine enemy?" asked she archly. "Nay;" as a pained look crossed his face, "I know that thou art not."
"And neither art thou mine," a.s.serted Edward. "Ah, Francis, may not we two bury that old enmity by a union of our families in us? If thy father give consent wilt thou agree also?"
"If my father consent, then so will I also, Edward," spoke the girl softly, adding saucily--""tis the only way that I"ll ever get that deer"s horns."