CHAPTER XXX
PARDON AND HAPPINESS
The final blow which sent the Armada flying northward had been given.With not a single ship taken and but one, the small bark of Cock, lost,and not more than sixty men killed, the English fleet sent up a paean ofjoy, and drew up for conference before following further the fleeingenemy.
"Ye two," said the lord admiral to Francis and Devereaux, "seeing that yelie under Her Most Sovereign Majesty's displeasure, shall bear to her thetidings of our victory. None deserve it more, and, please God, by sodoing ye shall win pardon from her. As for me I shall on after theSpaniard as long as provisions and ammunition will permit."
And so it came about that Francis and Devereaux proceeded to the camp atTilbury, where the queen was at this time. She was dining in the tent ofLord Leicester, the lieutenant general of the land forces, herself beingthe generalissimo, when they arrived. There were present, beside thequeen and the earl, Sir Francis Walsingham, who had come down from Londonfor conference with the queen; Hatton, the vice chamberlain, the youngEarl of Essex who, despite his inexperience, had been made thecaptain-general of the cavalry, and Lord Shrope, who had hastened toreturn to England upon hearing of his country's peril. Francis flashed aglance of joyful recognition at him, but was deterred from other greetingby the presence of the queen.
Elizabeth had risen at their approach, and when the girl beheld her highpale forehead furrowed by lines of care, the lofty features sharpened byanxiety, she felt her heart glow toward her sovereign and the lastfeeling of animosity which had lain so long in her heart faded away neverto return. It was therefore with a sincere feeling of reverence that sheknelt before Elizabeth, who had shown herself at this time to be a truedaughter of the lion-hearted Plantagenets.
"Ye bear messages from the lord admiral," cried the queen somewhatanxiously. "Rise, Edward Devereaux, and deliver thyself of them."
"Most gracious madam," said Edward, rising gracefully, "the strength ofthe enemy is broken. Dispirited and distraught they fly before the lordadmiral. Madam, the Armada is no more. Here are letters writ by LordHoward, in which he gives the victory in detail."
"Now God be praised," ejaculated the queen, "but this is news indeed. MyLord of Essex, do you spread the tidings throughout the camp that myloving people may rejoice with me. Thy indulgence, Master Devereaux,while I peruse my Lord Howard's dispatches. Retain thy place that I mayconfer with thee later."
Rapidly she glanced over the epistles, and then turned to the assembledlords.
"My lords," she cried, "behold these lads! They have borne themselveswith signal valor during the meeting with the Spaniards. They two, incompany with two others of whom more anon, set fire to the ships whichbrought fear and panic into the fleet of the enemy. Which same device wasrecommended by us to the lord admiral. Speak, Edward Devereaux! Whatreward dost thou wish for thy service?"
"Thy pardon, Most Gracious Lady, for breaking the bounds in which youplaced me."
"Ah, Ned, Ned," said Elizabeth with that archness which, despite herfifty-five years, she continued to employ, "didst thou not know that thyqueen placed thee there for thy safety?"
"True, madam;" assented Devereaux. "But not the strongest dungeon of theTower should have held me in durance when thy person, and my country werein danger."
"Thy silvery tongue no less than thy service doth well incline me to thywill, Ned," said she graciously. "Thou art forgiven. And thou?" she addedturning to the kneeling girl. "Art thou not that Francis Stafford latelyconcerned in plot against our person?"
"I am that most unhappy being, madam," said Francis, rising and lookingthe queen steadfastly in the face. "I throw myself upon your mercy, YourMajesty, 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 younot. Had I known you I would never have transgressed. Do with me as youwill. Return me to the Tower, or use your pleasure upon me in any fashionas 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 Ientered the Tower nearly two years ago," answered the girl.
The queen said something in a low tone to Lord Shrope. That noblemanimmediately left the tent, and all eyes centred expectantly upon thequeen. Francis looked at her with a growing anxiety as she remainedsilent. Was she going to remand her to the Tower? Were not her servicesdeserving of some recognition? What was meant by that continuedstillness? The queen stood regarding her with those keen, piercing eyeswhose fires age had not dimmed, and Francis met her gaze with a sort offascination, her eyes dilated, her lips parted as she waited the issue.
Presently Lord Shrope reentered the tent and with him there came one atsight of whom Francis gave a great cry.
"My father!" And not even the presence of the queen could prevent herfrom running forward to embrace him. Her father gave no sign that he knewof her presence, but advancing to where the queen stood, knelt before hersaying:
"You sent for me, Your Grace, and I am here."
"My Lord Stafford," said Elizabeth affably, "thou knowest that when thoudidst present thyself before us, beseeching us to permit you to be ofservice in defending our person, that we agreed that time should provethy worth. My lord, thou and thy son have redeemed yourselves nobly inour eyes. Rise, my lord! You are restored to your right of blood and toyour property. Thy son also hath our full and free forgiveness."
"Madam, thou art graciousness itself," said Lord Stafford kissing herhand. "I do repent me of all my transgression against you, but from thistime forth, my queen, by the grace of God, you will have no staunchersubject 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 areaddled. Who is there who will read the riddle clearly? Thou, FrancisStafford?"
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 consenthe 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 unlessfrom dire perversity----"
"Nay;" cried Francis, her spirit asserting itself. "'Tis because 'twas atthy bidding that I donned it, and I vowed never to remove it until thoudidst bid me so to do. Oh, would that I had perished in battle ere thyhardness toward me should pierce me with such agony!" And she again gaveway 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. "Youwrong the girl."
"Wrong her?" asked Lord Stafford eagerly. "Speak, my lords! If ye canconvince me of that ye shall remove all that my heart holdeth ofbitterness. I long to take her to my breast again, but I would not solong 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 ofwhat I speak."
With a bound Lord Stafford reached the weeping girl and caught her tohim.
"My daughter! My daughter!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Say thatyou forgive me."
"And you do believe in me?" questioned Francis clinging to himconvulsively. "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 fromthe queen.
"Thank her, Francis," said Lord Stafford leading the girl forward. "Thankour gracious queen who hath shown so much of kindness to us."
"There, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth as Francis with streaming eyes triedto articulat
e her gratitude. "'Twill suffice for the present. We like thyspirit, and later will receive thee into service near us. When thou hastdonned thy maiden attire we would see thee again. Though, by my faith, ifall men would honor the garb as thou hast done, there would be few knavesin the kingdom."
* * * * *
"And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?" cried Edward Devereaux as, twodays later, Francis stood on the banks of the river watching the queen asshe embarked for London. "Upon my word, Francis; thy attire well becomesthee."
"'Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?'" quoth the girl gaily turning abright face toward him.
"Thine enemy, Francis?" said the youth reproachfully. "I thought thatthat had passed. After all that we have been through together thoushouldst not call me so."
"And art thou not mine enemy?" asked she archly. "Nay;" as a pained lookcrossed his face, "I know that thou art not."
"And neither art thou mine," asserted Edward. "Ah, Francis, may not wetwo bury that old enmity by a union of our families in us? If thy fathergive consent wilt thou agree also?"
"If my father consent, then so will I also, Edward," spoke the girlsoftly, adding saucily--"'tis the only way that I'll ever get that deer'shorns."
In Doublet and Hose: A Story for Girls Page 30
