CHAPTER V
ON THE ROAD TO STAFFORD
Francis was so absorbed in the thoughts engendered by the conversationthat she had just heard that she forgot all about her character as pageand her duties as such. She was recalled to herself by a sharp reprimandfrom her father:
"Thy duty, Francis. Attend to the serving."
Babington turned a startled glance upon her as she arose in obedience toher father's command.
"The page?" he cried. "Did he hear our converse, my lord?"
"Yes; but fear not, Anthony. I would stake mine honor upon his silence.Thou canst be trusted, Francis?"
With heightened color, for the blood mounted to her cheeks at the intentgaze of the young man, the girl answered earnestly:
"Yes, my lord. Naught of what I have heard shall pass my lips. Not eventhe rack should wring it from me."
"Protest not too much, boy," rebuked Babington. "Older and wiser men thanthou have succumbed to its tortures."
"You speak words of wisdom, Anthony," remarked Lord Stafford. "Let ushope that the boy will not be tried by so grievous an instrument. Yet Ido believe that he will be discreet."
"He seems a proper lad," returned the other. "A little backward,forsooth, but with none of the malapertness of some pages."
Francis, now completely at ease as she saw that the young man believedher to be what she appeared, flashed an arch look at her father. LordStafford smiled slightly, but his countenance soon became overcast withgravity. The meal over, the host withdrew, and the elder man turned oncemore to the younger one.
"Anthony," he said, "I must on my way, but let me plead with thee that ifthou dost entertain a thought of such rash emprises as thy words suggest,to forego them. Naught but disaster could follow upon such projects."
"My lord, say no more an thou lovest me," replied Babington. "Mary'ssufferings cry aloud for vengeance. Sleeping or waking her wrongs arebefore me. My lord, she is a prisoner; made to submit to privations thateven the basest criminals do not undergo. Couldst thou have seen her atTutbury or Wingfield as I have done, you would wonder no longer thatdeeds of blood suggest themselves."
"Anthony, thou art mad," exclaimed Lord Stafford compassionately.
"Mad! nay; but Mary Stuart hath languished too long in her chains. Iwould dare anything to release her from them."
"And so would we all who love and reverence her as the true heiress ofEngland's crown, Anthony. Yet I fear that thou dost meditate wrong toElizabeth, but surely thou wouldst not raise thy hand against a woman?"
"Ay, my lord! Against a woman, or what not for Mary's sake."
"But Mary would not approve such measure."
"No; therefore do we only contemplate her rescue. The softness of herheart doth prevent other aims."
"Anthony," said Lord Stafford preparing to renew his journey, "I see thatthou art ripe for some foolhardy enterprise. I misdoubt thy loyalty toElizabeth, and fear that thou wilt soon engage in mischief. Had I notpledged mine honor to take these letters to Mary I would have naught todo with the matter. Thou hast raised grave doubts as to the nature ofthis undertaking. I fear for thee, for myself and family, and most of alldo I fear for Mary Stuart. Thou knowest how eagerly Walsingham watchesfor an excuse to compass her death. Remember that, Anthony, and by thelove you bear to her, forego the thoughts that charge thy brain."
"Fear naught, my lord. Thy doubts carry thee farther than the issuewarrants," said Babington lightly.
"I bid you farewell, Anthony, but my heart is heavy with foreboding," andLord Stafford embraced him. "Would that I had known all this ere minehonor had become involved."
"Be of good cheer. You lay too much stress upon the matter," and theyoung man returned his embrace. "Farewell."
"Fare you well." Lord Stafford proceeded to the courtyard followed byFrancis. When the girl would have ridden behind him, he motioned hersilently to come beside him. Wonderingly she obeyed, for not thus werepages wont to travel with their lords.
"My child," said Lord Stafford when they had left the tavern behind andwere on the old Roman road to Bath, "I have done ill in embarking uponthis emprise, and more than ill in engaging thee in it also. There aredark days before us, Francis."
"My father," and leaning from her horse the girl kissed him. "No matterwhat befall thou hast deemed me worthy to share thy danger, and I willnot repine. But I like not to think that they wish to kill the queen."
"Think not on that, Francis," said her father hastily. "On that matter myheart is heavy, though I trow such attempt will not be made. Anthony butraves. Such thoughts are not for thy young heart. Dismiss them, I entreatthee."
"Let us rather think only that we are to carry the tidings to Mary thatan effort will be made to release her. Surely it is right to seek torelieve her suffering," said the girl sweetly.
"It is in very truth, my child. Thou and I are not concerned in aught butin bearing good news; therefore will I cheer up, sweet chuck, though I amgreatly troubled."
And by an effort he put aside the dire forebodings that filled his soul,and tried to enter into the enjoyment of his daughter who, with theelasticity of youth, had turned to the more cheerful scenes around them.
Frequently he called her attention to some historic spot, or pointed outthe beauties of the sylvan landscape. And thus, sometimes in sweetconverse in which Francis learned to know her father better than she hadever known him; at others, in long lapses of silence the more eloquentthat there was no conversation, and in stopping for rest and refreshmentat taverns did the days pass without further incident. Yet though nothingof import transpired, the journey was not without interest to Francis.
Bath, on the right bank of the river Avon, presented a great variety ofbeautiful landscape; the old city of Gloucester, city of churches andbeloved of kings; Tewkesbury, site of the battle between Lancastrians andYorkists which placed the crown upon the head of Edward the Fourth;Worcester, with its glorious cathedral, filled her with delight. Thebeauty of the diversified scenery, consisting of hill, vale, forest andriver, the numerous remains of Druid, British, Roman, Anglo-Saxon andNorman to which her father called her attention; all these thingscontributed to her pleasure, and served to banish everything from hermind save the happiness of the moment.
"And now, Francis," said Lord Stafford on the evening of the fourth day,"yonder lies Stafford, and we are near the end of our travel. Behold, onyon mount, called 'Castle Hill,' the place where stood a noble castlebuilt by William the Conqueror. He conferred it upon Robert de Torri whotook the name de Stafford from whom, as thou dost well ken, our familyhath sprung. Art thou weary, girl?"
"Yes, father, but the journey hath nevertheless been full of delight,"returned Francis brightly though her drooping body spoke of the fatigueby which she was almost overcome. "Yet right glad am I that we are cometo Stafford. And on the morrow it may be that I shall see Queen Mary."
"Mayhap, child. But now put from thee all thought save that of rest. Letthe morrow bring what it will, this night shall be devoted to quiet andrepose."
Putting spurs to his horse the tired animal renewed his speed, and theywere soon within the gates of the city.
In Doublet and Hose: A Story for Girls Page 5
