The Midnight Queen

by May Agnes Fleming

  THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN By May Agnes Fleming

  Contents

  THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN

  CHAPTER I. THE SORCERESS. CHAPTER II. THE DEAD BRIDE CHAPTER III. THE COURT PAGE CHAPTER IV. THE STRANGER. CHAPTER V. THE DWARF AND THE RUIN. CHAPTER VI. LA MASQUE CHAPTER VII. THE EARL'S BARGE. CHAPTER VIII. THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN. CHAPTER IX. LEOLINE. CHAPTER X. THE PAGE, THE FIRES, AND THE FALL. CHAPTER XI. THE EXECUTION. CHAPTER XII. DOOM. CHAPTER XIII. ESCAPED. CHAPTER XIV. IN THE DUNGEON. CHAPTER XV. LEOLINE'S VISITORS. CHAPTER XVI. THE THIRD VISION. CHAPTER XVII. THE HIDDEN FACE CHAPTER XVIII. THE INTERVIEW. CHAPTER XIX. HUBERT'S WHISPER. CHAPTER XX. AT THE PLAGUE-PIT. CHAPTER XXI. WHAT WAS BEHIND THE MASK. CHAPTER XXII. DAY-DAWN. CHAPTER XXIII. FINIS

  THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN,

  CHAPTER I. THE SORCERESS

  The plague raged in the city of London. The destroying angel had goneforth, and kindled with its fiery breath the awful pestilence, until allLondon became one mighty lazar-house. Thousands were swept away daily;grass grew in the streets, and the living were scarce able to burythe dead. Business of all kinds was at an end, except that of thecoffin-makers and drivers of the pest-cart. Whole streets were shut up,and almost every other house in the city bore the fatal red cross, andthe ominous inscription, "Lord have mercy on us". Few people, save thewatchmen, armed with halberts, keeping guard over the stricken houses,appeared in the streets; and those who ventured there, shrank from eachother, and passed rapidly on with averted faces. Many even fell dead onthe sidewalk, and lay with their ghastly, discolored faces, upturned tothe mocking sunlight, until the dead-cart came rattling along, andthe drivers hoisted the body with their pitchforks on the top of theirdreadful load. Few other vehicles besides those same dead-carts appearedin the city now; and they plied their trade busily, day and night; andthe cry of the drivers echoed dismally through the deserted streets:"Bring out your dead! bring out your dead!" All who could do so had longago fled from the devoted city; and London lay under the burning heatof the June sunshine, stricken for its sins by the hand of God. Thepest-houses were full, so were the plague-pits, where the dead werehurled in cartfuls; and no one knew who rose up in health in the morningbut that they might be lying stark and dead in a few hours. The verychurches were forsaken; their pastors fled or lying in the plague-pits;and it was even resolved to convert the great cathedral of St. Paul intoa vast plague-hospital. Cries and lamentations echoed from one endof the city to the other, and Death and Charles reigned over Londontogether.

  Yet in the midst of all this, many scenes of wild orgies and debaucherystill went on within its gates--as, in our own day, when the choleraravaged Paris, the inhabitants of that facetious city made it acarnival, so now, in London, they were many who, feeling they had but afew days to live at the most, resolved to defy death, and indulge in therevelry while they yet existed. "Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrowyou die!" was their motto; and if in the midst of the frantic dance ordebauched revel one of them dropped dead, the others only shrieked withlaughter, hurled the livid body out to the street, and the demoniacmirth grew twice as fast and furious as before. Robbers and cut-pursesparaded the streets at noonday, entered boldly closed and desertedhouses, and bore off with impunity, whatever they pleased. Highwaymeninfested Hounslow Heath, and all the roads leading from the city,levying a toll on all who passed, and plundering fearlessly the flyingcitizens. In fact, far-famed London town, in the year of grace 1665,would have given one a good idea of Pandemonium broke loose.

  It was drawing to the close of an almost tropical June day, that thecrowd who had thronged the precincts of St. Paul's since early morning,began to disperse. The sun, that had throbbed the livelong day like agreat heart of fire in a sea of brass, was sinking from sight in cloudsof crimson, purple and gold, yet Paul's Walk was crowded. There werecourt-gallants in ruffles and plumes; ballad-singers chanting the notover-delicate ditties of the Earl of Rochester; usurers exchanginggold for bonds worth three times what they gave for them; quack-doctorsreading in dolorous tones the bills of mortality of the preceding day,and selling plague-waters and anti-pestilential abominations, whosemerit they loudly extolled; ladies too, richly dressed, and many of themmasked; and booksellers who always made St. Paul's a favorite haunt, andeven to this day patronize its precincts, and flourish in the regions ofPaternoster Row and Ave Maria Lane; court pages in rich liveries, pertand flippant; serving-men out of place, and pickpockets with a keen eyeto business; all clashed and jostled together, raising a din to whichthe Plain of Shinar, with its confusion of tongues and Babylonishworkmen, were as nothing.

  Moving serenely through this discordant sea of his fellow-creatures camea young man booted and spurred, whose rich doublet of cherry coloredvelvet, edged and spangled with gold, and jaunty hat set slightly onone side of his head, with its long black plume and diamond clasp,proclaimed him to be somebody. A profusion of snowy shirt-frill rushedimpetuously out of his doublet; a black-velvet cloak, lined withamber-satin, fell picturesquely from his shoulders; a sword with ajeweled hilt clanked on the pavement as he walked. One hand was coveredwith a gauntlet of canary-colored kid, perfumed to a degree that wouldshame any belle of to-day, the other, which rested lightly on hissword-hilt, flashed with a splendid opal, splendidly set. He was ahandsome fellow too, with fair waving hair (for he had the good tasteto discard the ugly wigs then in vogue), dark, bright, handsome eyes,a thick blonde moustache, a tall and remarkably graceful figure, and anexpression of countenance wherein easy good-nature and fiery impetuosityhad a hard struggle for mastery. That he was a courtier of rank, wasapparent from his rich attire and rather aristocratic bearing anda crowd of hangers-on followed him as he went, loudly demandingspur-money. A group of timbril-girls, singing shrilly the songs of theday, called boldly to him as he passed; and one of them, more free andeasy than the rest, danced up to him striking her timbrel, and shoutingrather than singing the chorus of the then popular ditty,

  "What care I for pest or plague? We can die but once, God wot, Kiss me darling--stay with me: Love me--love me, leave me not!"

  The darling in question turned his bright blue eyes on that dashingstreet-singer with a cool glance of recognition.

  "Very sorry, Nell," he said, in a nonchalant tone, "but I'm afraid Imust. How long have you been here, may I ask?"

  "A full hour by St. Paul's; and where has Sir Norman Kingsley been, mayI ask? I thought you were dead of the plague."

  "Not exactly. Have you seen--ah! there he is. The very man I want."

  With which Sir Norman Kingsley dropped a gold piece into the girl'sextended palm, and pushed on through the crowd up Paul's Walk. A tall,dark figure was leaning moodily with folded arms, looking fixedly atthe ground, and taking no notice of the busy scene around him until SirNorman laid his ungloved and jeweled hand lightly on his shoulder.

  "Good morning, Ormiston. I had an idea I would find you here, and--butwhat's the matter with you, man? Have you got the plague? or has yourmysterious inamorata jilted you? or what other annoyance has happened tomake you look as woebegone as old King Lear, sent adrift by his tenderdaughters to take care of himself?"

  The individual addressed lifted his head, disclosing a dark and ratherhandsome face, settled now into a look of gloomy discontent. He slightlyraised his hat as he saw who his questioner was.

  "Ah! it's you, Sir Norman! I had given up all notion of your coming, andwas about to quit this confounded babel--this tumultuous den of thieves.What has detained you?"

  "I was on duty at Whitehall. Are we not in time to keep ourappointment?"

  "Oh, certainly! La Masque is at home to visitors at all hours, day andnight. I believe
in my soul she doesn't know what sleep means."

  "And you are still as much in love with her as ever, I dare swear! Ihave no doubt, now, it was of her you were thinking when I came up.Nothing else could ever have made you look so dismally woebegone as youdid, when Providence sent me to your relief."

  "I was thinking of her," said the young man moodily, and with adarkening brow.

  Sir Norman favored him with a half-amused, half-contemptuous stare for amoment; then stopped at a huckster's stall to purchase some cigarettes;lit one, and after smoking for a few minutes, pleasantly remarked, as ifthe fact had just struck him:

  "Ormiston, you're a fool!"

  "I know it!" said Ormiston, sententiously.

  "The idea," said Sir Norman, knocking the ashes daintily off the endof his cigar with the tip of his little finger--"the idea of falling inlove with a woman whose face you have never seen! I can understand a mana going to any absurd extreme when he falls in love in proper Christianfashion, with a proper Christian face; but to go stark, staring mad, asyou have done, my dear fellow, about a black loo mask, why--I considerthat a little too much of a good thing! Come, let us go."

  Nodding easily to his numerous acquaintances as he went, Sir NormanKingsley sauntered leisurely down Paul's Walk, and out through the greatdoor of the cathedral, followed by his melancholy friend. Pausing for amoment to gaze at the gorgeous sunset with a look of languid admiration,Sir Norman passed his arm through that of his friend, and they walkedon at rather a rapid pace, in the direction of old London Bridge. Therewere few people abroad, except the watchmen walking slowly up and downbefore the plague-stricken houses; but in every street they passedthrough they noticed huge piles of wood and coal heaped down the centre.Smoking zealously they had walked on for a season in silence, whenOrmiston ceased puffing for a moment, to inquire:

  "What are all these for? This is a strange time, I should imagine, forbonfires."

  "They're not bonfires," said Sir Norman; "at least they are not intendedfor that; and if your head was not fuller of that masked Witch of Endorthan common sense (for I believe she is nothing better than a witch),you could not have helped knowing. The Lord Mayor of London has beeninspired suddenly, with a notion, that if several thousand fires arekindled at once in the streets, it will purify the air, and check thepestilence; so when St. Paul's tolls the hour of midnight, all thesepiles are to be fired. It will be a glorious illumination, no doubt; butas to its stopping the progress of the plague, I am afraid that it isaltogether too good to be true."

  "Why should you doubt it? The plague cannot last forever."

  "No. But Lilly, the astrologer, who predicted its coming, also foretoldthat it would last for many months yet; and since one prophecy has cometrue, I see no reason why the other should not."

  "Except the simple one that there would be nobody left alive to take it.All London will be lying in the plague-pits by that time."

  "A pleasant prospect; but a true one, I have no doubt. And, as I have noambition to be hurled headlong into one of those horrible holes, I shallleave town altogether in a few days. And, Ormiston, I would stronglyrecommend you to follow my example."

  "Not I!" said Ormiston, in a tone of gloomy resolution. "While La Masquestays, so will I."

  "And perhaps die of the plague in a week."

  "So be it! I don't fear the plague half as much as I do the thought oflosing her!"

  Again Sir Norman stared.

  "Oh, I see! It's a hopeless case! Faith, I begin to feel curious to seethis enchantress, who has managed so effectually to turn your brain.When did you see her last?"

  "Yesterday," said Ormiston, with a deep sigh. "And if she were made ofgranite, she could not be harder to me than she is!"

  "So she doesn't care about you, then?"

  "Not she! She has a little Blenheim lapdog, that she loves a thousandtimes more than she ever will me!"

  "Then what an idiot you are, to keep haunting her like her shadow! Whydon't you be a man, and tear out from your heart such a goddess?"

  "Ah! that's easily said; but if you were in my place, you'd act exactlyas I do."

  "I don't believe it. It's not in me to go mad about anything with amasked face and a marble heart. If I loved any woman--which, thankFortune! at this present time I do not--and she had the bad taste notto return it, I should take my hat, make her a bow, and go directly andlove somebody else made of flesh and blood, instead of cast iron! Youknow the old song, Ormiston:

  'If she be not fair for me What care I how fair she be!'"

  "Kingsley, you know nothing about it!" said Ormiston, impatiently. "Sostop talking nonsense. If you are cold-blooded, I am not; and--I loveher!"

  Sir Norman slightly shrugged his shoulders, and flung his smoked-outweed into a heap of fire-wood.

  "Are we near her house?" he asked. "Yonder is the bridge."

  "And yonder is the house," replied Ormiston, pointing to a largeancient building--ancient even for those times--with three stories, eachprojecting over the other. "See! while the houses on either side aremarked as pest-stricken, hers alone bears no cross. So it is: thosewho cling to life are stricken with death: and those who, like me, aredesperate, even death shuns."

  "Why, my dear Ormiston, you surely are not so far gone as that? Upon myhonor, I had no idea you were in such a bad way."

  "I am nothing but a miserable wretch! and I wish to Heaven I was inyonder dead-cart, with the rest of them--and she, too, if she neverintends to love me!"

  Ormiston spoke with such fierce earnestness, that there was no doubtinghis sincerity; and Sir Norman became profoundly shocked--so much so,that he did not speak again until they were almost at the door. Then heopened his lips to ask, in a subdued tone:

  "She has predicted the future for you--what did she foretell?"

  "Nothing good; no fear of there being anything in store for such anunlucky dog as I am."

  "Where did she learn this wonderful black art of hers?"

  "In the East, I believe. She has been there and all over the world; andnow visits England for the first time."

  "She has chosen a sprightly season for her visit. Is she not afraid ofthe plague, I wonder?"

  "No; she fears nothing," said Ormiston, as he knocked loudly at thedoor. "I begin to believe she is made of adamant instead of what otherwomen are made of."

  "Which is a rib, I believe," observed Sir Norman, thoughtfully. "Andthat accounts, I dare say, for their being of such a crooked andcantankerous nature. They're a wonderful race women are; and for whatInscrutable reason it has pleased Providence to create them--"

  The opening of the door brought to a sudden end this little touch ofmoralizing, and a wrinkled old porter thrust out a very withered andunlovely face.

  "La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without ceremony.

  The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed in thesame style by Sir Norman.

  "You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude of thisplace," observed that young gentleman, as they passed into a room at thehead of the stairs.

  "I ought to be; I've been here often enough," said Ormiston. "This isthe common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La Masque. That oldbag of bones who let us in has gone to announce us."

  Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It wasa common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished black oak,slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old Flemish paintings onthe walls; a large, round table in the centre of the floor, on whichlay a pair of the old musical instruments called "virginals." Two large,curtainless windows, with minute diamond-shaped panes, set in leadencasements, admitted the golden and crimson light.

  "For the reception-room of a sorceress," remarked Sir Norman, with anair of disappointed criticism, "there is nothing very wonderful aboutall this. How is it she spaes fortunes any way? As Lilly does by mapsand charts; or as these old Eastern
mufti do it by magic mirrors and alleach fooleries?"

  "Neither," said Ormiston, "her style in more like that of the Indianalmechs, who show you your destiny in a well. She has a sort of magiclake in her room, and--but you will see it all for yourself presently."

  "I have always heard," said Sir Norman, in the same meditative way,"that truth lies at the bottom of a well, and I am glad some one hasturned up at last who is able to fish it out. Ah! Here comes our ancientMercury to show us to the presence of your goddess."

  The door opened, and the "old bag of bones," as Ormiston irreverentlystyled his lady-love's ancient domestic, made a sign for them to followhim. Leading the way down along a corridor, he flung open a pair ofshining folding-doors at the end, and ushered them at once into themajestic presence of the sorceress and her magic room. Both gentlemendoffed their plumed hats. Ormiston stepped forward at once; but SirNorman discreetly paused in the doorway to contemplate the scene ofaction. As he slowly did so, a look of deep displeasure settled on hisfeatures, on finding it not half so awful as he had supposed.

  In some ways it was very like the room they had left, being low, large,and square, and having floors, walls and ceiling paneled with glossyblack oak. But it had no windows--a large bronze lamp, suspended fromthe centre of the ceiling, shed a flickering, ghostly light. There wereno paintings--some grim carvings of skulls, skeletons, andserpents, pleasantly wreathed the room--neither were there seatsnor tables--nothing but a huge ebony caldron at the upper end of theapartment, over which a grinning skeleton on wires, with a scythe inone hand of bone, and an hour-glass in the other, kept watch and ward.Opposite this cheerful-looking guardian, was a tall figure in black,standing an motionless as if it, too, was carved in ebony. It was afemale figure, very tall and slight, but as beautifully symmetrical asa Venus Celestis. Her dress was of black velvet, that swept the polishedfloor, spangled all over with stars of gold and rich rubies. A profusionof shining black hair fell in waves and curls almost to her feet; buther face, from forehead to chin, was completely hidden by a black velvetmask. In one hand, exquisitely small and white, she held a gold casket,blazing (like her dress) with rubies, and with the other she toyed witha tame viper, that had twined itself round her wrist. This was doubtlessLa Masque, and becoming conscious of that fact Sir Norman made her alow and courtly bow. She returned it by a slight bend of the head, andturning toward his companion, spoke:

  "You here, again, Mr. Ormiston! To what am I indebted for the honor oftwo visits in two days?"

  Her voice, Sir Norman thought, was the sweetest he had ever heard,musical as a chime of silver bells, soft as the tones of an aeolian harpthrough which the west wind plays.

  "Madam, I am aware my visits are undesired," said Ormiston, with aflushing cheek and, slightly tremulous voice; "but I have merely comewith my friend, Sir Norman Kingsley, who wishes to know what the futurehas in store for him."

  Thus invoked, Sir Norman Kingsley stepped forward with another low bowto the masked lady.

  "Yes, madam, I have long heard that those fair fingers can withdraw thecurtain of the future, and I have come to see what Dame Destiny is goingto do for me."

  "Sir Norman Kingsley is welcome," said the sweet voice, "and shall seewhat he desires. There is but one condition, that he will keep perfectlysilent; for if he speaks, the scene he beholds will vanish. Comeforward!"

  Sir Norman compressed his lips as closely as if they were foreverhermetically sealed, and came forward accordingly. Leaning over the edgeof the ebony caldron, he found that it contained nothing more dreadfulthan water, for he labored under a vague and unpleasant idea that, likethe witches' caldron in Macbeth, it might be filled with serpents' bloodand childrens' brains. La Masque opened her golden casket, and took fromit a portion of red powder, with which it was filled. Casting it intothe caldron, she murmured an invocation in Sanscrit, or Coptic, or someother unknown tongue, and slowly there arose a dense cloud of dark-redsmoke, that nearly filled the room. Had Sir Norman ever read the storyof Aladdin, he would probably have thought of it then; but the youngcourtier did not greatly affect literature of any kind, and thought ofnothing now but of seeing something when the smoke cleared away. It wasrather long in doing so, and when it did, he saw nothing at first buthis own handsome, half-serious, half-incredulous face; but gradually apicture, distinct and clear, formed itself at the bottom, and Sir Normangazed with bewildered eyes. He saw a large room filled with a sparklingcrowd, many of them ladies, splendidly arrayed and flashing in jewels,and foremost among them stood one whose beauty surpassed anything hehad ever before dreamed of. She wore the robes of a queen, purple andermine--diamonds blazed on the beautiful neck, arms, and fingers, anda tiara of the same brilliants crowned her regal head. In one hand sheheld a sceptre; what seemed to be a throne was behind her, but somethingthat surprised Sir Norton most of all was, to find himself standingbeside her, the cynosure of all eyes. While he yet gazed in mingledastonishment and incredulity, the scene faded away, and another took itsplace. This time a dungeon-cell, damp and dismal; walls, and floor, andceiling covered with green and hideous slime. A small lamp stood on thefloor, and by its sickly, watery gleam, he saw himself again standing,pale and dejected, near the wall. But he was not alone; the sameglittering vision in purple and diamonds stood before him, and suddenlyhe drew his sword and plunged it up to the hilt in her heart! Thebeautiful vision fell like a stone at his feet, and the sword was drawnout reeking with her life-blood. This was a little too much for the realSir Norman, and with an expression of indignant consternation, he sprangupright. Instantly it all faded away and the reflection of his ownexcited face looked up at him from the caldron.

  "I told you not to speak," said La Masque, quietly, "but you must lookon still another scene."

  Again she threw a portion of the contents of the casket into thecaldron, and "spake aloud the words of power." Another cloud of smokearose and filled the room, and when it cleared away, Sir Norman behelda third and less startling sight. The scene and place he could notdiscover, but it seemed to him like night and a storm. Two men werelying on the ground, and bound fast together, it appeared to him. As helooked, it faded away, and once more his own face seemed to mock him inthe clear water.

  "Do you know those two last figures!" asked the lady.

  "I do," said Sir Norman, promptly; "it was Ormiston and myself."

  "Right! and one of them was dead."

  "Dead!" exclaimed Sir Norman, with a perceptible start. "Which one,madam?"

  "If you cannot tell that, neither can I. If there is anything furtheryou wish to see, I am quite willing to show it to you."

  "I'm obliged to you," said Sir Norman, stepping back; "but no more atpresent, thank you. Do you mean to say, madam, that I'm some day tomurder a lady, especially one so beautiful as she I just now saw?"

  "I have said nothing--all you've seen will come to pass, and whetheryour destiny be for good or evil, I have nothing to do with it, except,"said the sweet voice, earnestly, "that if La Masque could strew SirNorman Kingsley's pathway with roses, she would most assuredly do so."

  "Madam, you are too kind," said that young gentleman, laying his hand onhis heart, while Ormiston scowled darkly--"more especially as I've themisfortune to be a perfect stranger to you."

  "Not so, Sir Norman. I have known you this many a day; and before longwe shall be better acquainted. Permit me to wish you good evening!"

  At this gentle hint, both gentlemen bowed themselves out, and soonfound themselves in the street, with very different expressions ofcountenance. Sir Norman looking considerably pleased and decidedlypuzzled, and Mr. Ormiston looking savagely and uncompromisingly jealous.The animated skeleton who had admitted them closed the door after them;and the two friends stood in the twilight on London Bridge.