"Greville!" exclaimed Lord Stafford.
"We differ not, Master Greville," smiled the soldier. "My life, my service, my all is devoted to our queen. G.o.d bless Her Majesty!"
"G.o.d bless Her Majesty, Elizabeth," returned Greville pointedly.
"Thy mother waits thee, Francis, in her tiring-room," interposed Lord Stafford hastily. "Come to me anon. Greville, no more of this an thou lovest me."
The tutor without another word withdrew from the room accompanied by his pupil.
"Was it not strange, cousin, that I should have thought our guest a priest?" queried Francis when they were beyond the portals of the door.
"Nay; the habit doth not always proclaim the monk," quoth Greville sententiously. "You spoke truer than you knew when you called him "father.""
"Is he in sooth then a priest?" asked the girl curiously. "Why comes he then in such array? Are not priests always welcome in my father"s house?"
"Is it not within thy ken that an edict hath been pa.s.sed making it treason for priests to be found within the kingdom, and felony to harbor them? And, forsooth, there is much reason for such a law. So many have been the plots against the Queen"s Majesty that much precaution must be taken to preserve her from them."
"Would evil befall my father should it come to the ears of the queen that he had given a priest entertainment?"
"I make no doubt of it, child. Therefore it behooves us to be silent respecting the matter. But, by my life, girl! we dally too long. Away!
and set a guard upon thy lips. If thou canst carry so weighty a matter sub silentio then will I deem thee better than the most of thy s.e.x."
CHAPTER III
THE PAGE"S DRESS
The bower chamber of the Lady Penelope Stafford was both large and lofty yet there was nothing there of ponderous grandeur. The walls were covered with soft arras embroidered in bright coloring skilfully blended. The rich furniture was designed for ease and comfort rather than pomp and parade. The chamber was lighted by a large window with broad cas.e.m.e.nts between the mullions, and with flowing tracery above of arch and quatrefoil.
On a low couch sat Lady Stafford swinging gently to and fro a delicate gold handled fan of flamingo feathers which ever and anon she laid aside to direct Francis who sat on a low stool at her feet plying some embroidery work.
"So, my daughter," said the lady indicating a cross-st.i.tch. "Take heed to thy work else thou wilt not excel with the needle. Marry, I marvel that thou dost accomplish anything with such unskilful fingers. Knowest thou not that the Queen"s Majesty did fashion a shirt of cambric for her brother when she was but six years old? I trow that that is more than thou couldst do now; and thou art more than double that age."
"I crave thy forbearance, my sweet mother," pleaded Francis. "My fancy dwells not upon my task, but the rather do I wonder in what manner I may be of service to my father. Dost thou know, my mother?"
"I could make a shrewd hazard as to its nature, Francis. Content thee, child. Thou wilt soon know all." A look of anxiety crossed the lady"s face as she spoke, which the girl was quick to note.
"Thou art troubled, my mother. Prithee tell me the cause."
"Nay, girl. Thy father will open up the matter to thy ears when he deems it best. Until then neither thou nor I may speak of it. "Tis a woman"s lot to obey, and never to question the decree of either father or husband."
"But why?" asked the maiden. "Have we not minds with which to reason?
Can we not think as well as men? Wherefore then should we yield blind unreasoning obedience when mind and soul are as n.o.ble as theirs? Methinks that women"s judgments are as wise as men"s."
"Child, child," exclaimed the lady startled by the girl"s vehemence.
"Thou hast too much of thy sire in thee for a girl. I fear such spirit.
Study lowliness, for a woman should be meek. Stifle whatever of questioning may come into thy heart, and render implicit obedience to thy father."
"That I will do, mother. Have I not ever reverenced him? "Tis pleasure to obey his will. The more because I have so much of him in me. "Twas he who taught me how to string a bow, and "twas he who guided my maiden hand and eye until had I a brother he could not excel in hunting or hawking."
"I know, my daughter, yet my heart misgives me because of these very things. Hadst thou been a boy all this would not come amiss. But thou art a girl, and full of the weaknesses of women despite thy skill in men"s sports. Nature, howsoe"er disguised, will soon or late a.s.sert herself.
Thou art a woman, therefore again I say, steep thy soul in humility. I fear that haughtiness in thee which thy father doth abet. Methinks it bodes but ill both to thee and to him. But this give ear to: in all things be submissive to thy father. Heedst thou, Francis?"
"Yes, my mother."
"I have thus spoken because dire forebodings have seized me of late. Thy proud spirit ill brooks authority, and thou wilt soon be of an age when if thy will should clash with thy father"s, I trow not the consequences.
Therefore have I counseled thee. But of this no more."
For a time the two sat in silence, and then Francis broke the quiet:
"My mother, there is something that I would fain ask."
"Say on, my child."
"When I speak of it to Master Greville he calls me disloyal, but I mean it not so. "Tis only that I would know. My mother, why doth Elizabeth reign as queen if our rightful queen is Mary of Scotland? Dost thou believe her to be the true heiress to the crown?"
"Yes, child; as what true adherent of the faith doth not? Yet hath Elizabeth been a good queen save and except that she hath made severe laws against the exercise of our religion. But England hath truly prospered under her."
"But there be some that would willingly raise Mary to the throne, are there not?"
""Tis treason to say so, but there be some in very truth. "Tis because the queen fears them that she hath kept Mary so long a prisoner."
"How long hath it been, mother?"
"Near nineteen years. It is a long, long time. She was full of youth and beauty when she set foot upon English soil, but now she hath grown old before her time with disease and confinement. Truly the queen hath dealt harshly with her own kin."
"Master Greville saith that she is a cruel bad woman, and that if she could compa.s.s the death of our queen she would do so."
"Greville speaks of that of which he knows naught," said Lady Stafford sharply. "He hath let the gossip of the court fill him to repletion. It hath been said that Mary was a wicked woman, yet I believe it not. That she desireth her liberty is no crime, but rather the longing of all nature to be free. Mary is the daughter and the granddaughter of a king.
Sometime queen of France, and crowned queen of Scotland. She is cousin german to Elizabeth, and if common natures cannot brook confinement what wonder is it that she sighs for freedom? This desire hath caused her to attempt escape often by the aid of friends, and given rise to the belief that many would raise her to the throne."
"Is Elizabeth beautiful, mother? Greville says that she is the most lovely woman in the world. That none can compare with her for beauty, or for learning."
Lady Stafford laughed and then checked herself.
"Child," she said, "it is my prayer that thou wilt grow here in thine own home as a wild flower without sight of queen or court. But if it should chance, which G.o.d forfend, that thou art called to the court, then remember what thy tutor hath told thee, and count the queen the most beautiful of women."
"But is she?"
"The queen is learned, child, beyond what is usual for her s.e.x. Greville will tell thee that there never was her like for knowledge, save and except the Lady Jane Grey, the which would be treason to speak. I mind well when Elizabeth was crowned that she was fair to look upon, but that was twenty-eight years ago. The queen is now past fifty years of age.
Doth a flower retain its loveliness forever? I trow not. Yet methinks I do but ill in speaking thus to thee. Elizabeth believes that time for her hath stopped, and that age but enhances those charms which are the pride of women. Yet I have heard otherwise."
"You go not to court, my mother. Why?"
"Because of its troubles and its dangers, Francis. Better to bide afar off in this remote spot than to dwell among the jealousies of courtiers.
The favor of princes is uncertain, and even royalty is not always well disposed toward the happiness of a subject. I would fain never behold the court again, and I pray that thou mayst never be called to its treacherous pleasures."