CHAPTER XXIII
THE JOURNEY TO WINDSOR
A great crowd gathered around the gaol at Bedford to see MistressConstance Leslie and myself start for London. This was but littlewonder, for the revelation made in the Chapel of Herne had spread likewildfire, and people had come from the whole country side to see usdepart. I noticed too that we were not regarded with anger, nor treatedwith contumely. Rather I judged that Mistress Constance was looked uponwith great favour, and I verily believe that had they been encouraged,the people would have cheered her with great gusto, for they looked uponher, not as one who had done aught to be ashamed of, but as one who hadbravely suffered much for another's sake. As for myself they knew noughtof me except my name, for this I had made known in the Court House, andthat I had succeeded in helping Mistress Constance out of prison.Neither was this regarded as a great sin. Indeed it was believed that Iknew of the truth of what Master Leslie had told, and therefore it wasnatural for me to render what help I was able. Concerning our formermeeting I had of course been silent, and although I had been questionedclosely I had given no answer which made any one the wiser.
One thing pleased me beyond measure, and this was the fact that BlackBen was returned to me, and that I was allowed to ride him to London.This I suspect was owing to the kindness of Sir William Franklin, whohad known my father and had fought by his side during the first civilwar.
We were, however, carefully guarded, so carefully that quite a companyof armed men rode out of Bedford, making as I thought a good show thatbright summer morning.
We must have travelled at least six miles before I had a chance ofspeaking to Mistress Constance, for although we rode side by side in themidst of those who guarded us, we had no chance of speaking a word toeach other. For that matter I do not think she desired speech, foreither she looked straight forward, or else looked away to the right,which was in the opposite direction from where I was.
When we had travelled a few miles, however, we were less closelywatched. The constables talked with each other, now and then passing ajest, and again telling of the fine times they hoped to have when theyreached London. Indeed I saw that while they took care there was nochance of escape, they paid us less and less heed.
Therefore as I had opportunity, I drew my horse so close to hers that myright foot almost touched her riding habit.
"I trust I have done nought to offend you," I said, looking into herface.
But she did not reply for several moments, but rather turned away herhead from me.
"When you speak to me look straight on," she said.
I saw the wisdom of her words, for although the guard was more lax thanwhen we left Bedford, I knew that watchful eyes were constantly upon us.I therefore obeyed her, and waited for her answer.
"How can I be offended, when you have tried to be my friend?" she asked;"but did you not tell me that you spoke the French tongue?"
"Yes," I replied in that language. "I do not speak freely, but perhapsenough to make you understand."
"Then speak to me in that tongue. You can understand now why I couldtell you nothing when we first met."
"Yes," I replied, "I understand. It has made me very happy."
She gave me a searching glance. It was only for a moment that shelooked, but I felt the beat of my heart quicken.
"There is much that you do not know--cannot know."
"I know enough to make me very happy," I repeated. "Almost ever since Isaw you first I have felt a great burden upon my heart. Now it is gone."
"You believed I was guilty of--of----" here she stammered, and seemed ata loss how to finish her sentence, but I noticed the bitterness of hervoice.
"No," I interrupted eagerly. "Never for one moment."
I thought her eyes grew softer, for I could not help looking at her as Ispoke.
"Why then have you been made happy?"
"Because I know you are not the wife of that man."
The blood mounted to her cheeks, and the moment I saw this I turned awaymy head.
"You have been very good to try and help me," she said, "but it does notavail, it will not avail."
"I have done nothing," I replied, "nothing to what I would do if Icould."
"Yes, you have done much. You have helped me to save my sister."
"Unconsciously," I replied. "I know nothing of her. If I had known Ishould not have cared. It was only you I wanted to help."
"It does not matter about me. She must be saved whatever may happen. Iwill see to that."
"Then you do not fear what the king may do?"
"No, I do not fear. But do not speak again, the men are beginning towatch us."
I pretended to be examining Black Ben's saddle, and to attend to one ofthe buckles which kept up the left stirrup.
"What's the matter Master Rashcliffe," said one of the guards.
"Hath some one been meddling with my stirrups?" I asked. "They seem tooshort."
"They can be seen to when we stop at mid-day for food," he replied.
After that we rode on for another mile without speaking.
"I think I shall have some favour with the king," I said presently. "Ifso, you will soon be free."
"Perchance you will be free, but not I," she replied.
"If I am free you shall be free," I made answer.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because the king's prisons will be guarded too closely. London gaolsare not like Bedford Gaol."
"But why should you be put in a London gaol? You have done nothing."
"No; but then I shall tell nothing."
"Ah," I said, catching at her meaning. "Then you know where your sisteris?"
I spoke the French tongue and in a low voice, but she looked aroundnervously, and although she gave no answer I knew I had surmised thetruth.
"Do not expect the worst," I said, "God lives."
"Yes, God lives, and I do not fear. Let the king do his worst."
"He may not suspect."
"But he will. When it is told him that I have--have done these thingsfor my sister's sake, he will ask me if I know where she is."
"And you will not tell?"
"I shall not tell where she is. Then he will make me bear herpunishment."
"No, I will save you."
Again she looked at me searchingly, and I thought I saw a glad lightleap into her eyes. After that she gave a quick glance round as if to besure that no one listened.
"No, you cannot save me. I am my father's daughter. Even now I am toldthat the king is planning a terrible vengeance on those who took part inhis father's death."
"I will save you," I said quietly, and confidently. "Do not fear.Whatever happens do not fear. It may be that I shall not be able to dothis in a day, or in a year--although I think I shall, but I will doit!"
"Why should you do it?"
"Because I love you."
I saw her start in her saddle, while her hands clutched her bridle reinnervously.
"That was why I was made so happy when I knew you had not married thatman. I loved you even while I thought you were his wife. I foughtagainst it because I thought it was a sin. But I could not help it. Itnever came to me until the other night when I saw them taking you toprison. I loved you before then although I did not know it. But I knewit then. I was glad when they left me alone in prison, because I couldthink of you. I did not sleep all the night. My heart was aching withlove, all the more because I thought it was sinful, but I could not helploving you. Whatever happens now, I shall love you till I die."
"No! No!"
"Yes. I know you do not care for me; but I have my joy, the joy ofloving."
"But you must not--it is wrong."
"Why is it wrong?"
"Because it is foolishness. I have taken another's burden--I may speakof it now. I have taken it willingly--gladly, but the burden means acurse to the one who bears it."
"Then I will try and bear some of the curse. Nay, do not deny me this. Imust whether I will or not. Nothing
you may say or do will alter me. Ishall love you until I die. Besides, I am going to save you."
She did not say a word to this, but looked straight on. We were passingthrough rich loamy lands. All around the trees were in the glory oftheir summer garb, while the birds sang lustily from tree branch, andfrom hazel twig, but I do not think she either saw or heard.
I had eased my heart in speaking, and so I said no more for the time.Never perhaps had a man a more doubtful future than I, and yet I couldhave shouted for very joy. She heard not the song of the skylark as itmounted to the heavens, nor the notes of the thrushes as they pouredforth their music to God. But I did, and it seemed to me as though theywere God's messengers telling me not to be afraid to love, for it wasHis will. That she could ever love me never came into my heart. Howcould she? What was I that a maid so peerless in her beauty, so gloriousin her life of sacrifice for another, should ever think of me save asone who delighted to do her will? But I had the joy of loving, andalthough my love were full of pain, and unsatisfied yearnings, I stillloved, and rejoiced in it.
"Why? Why?" I heard her whisper presently.
"Because God would have it so," I made answer. "He brought us togetherthat I might love you, and serve you. And this I will do as long as Ihave life and thought!"
"But if I am thrown into prison?"
"I shall still love you. Prison is nothing. Love has broken the boltsfrom many a prison door before this, aye, and will again."
"But what is the use of loving me?"
"To serve you."
"But if you cannot serve me?"
"Then I shall still have the joy of loving you. This let me say: whatwill happen I know not, but you must not be afraid. I shall be alwaysthinking about you--always."
"But the king may keep me in prison for years."
"He will not; but if he does, what then? He cannot live for ever.Suppose we never meet again until we are old, I shall still love you."
Again there was a long silence between us, so long that I thought shehad forgotten all I had said, so long that my mind had begun to wander.I had begun to paint pictures of the future years when we, both grownold, had met again, and I had renewed my vows to her.
"But if I were to love another, and wed him, what then?" She said thissuddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to her.
"I don't know," I said, and my heart grew cold as I spoke. "Of courseyou can never love me, but I shall pray God that you may never loveanother."
"Love is not for me," she said presently; and I knew she was thinking ofwhat might happen to her.
"If I were only worthy it would be," I said. "I have learnt many thingssince that night before the trial in the Chapel of Herne. I have learntthat love laughs at the wisdom of the wise. Do you know that the wallsof Bedford Gaol troubled me not one whit nor did the presence of thegaolers keep me from seeing your face. We are guarded now on the righthand, and on the left. We can hear the rough laugh of those who watchover us, can hear the clanking of their spurs, and the noise of horses'hoofs, but for two hours I have never thought of them. We have our lifein our own hearts--that is why."
After that we spoke not a word to each other throughout that long day,for our keepers began to guard us more jealously, especially when theydiscovered that they could not understand the language we spoke. Myheart hungered for further speech with her, nevertheless I was happy, Ihad told her of my love and she was not angry; nay more, my promise tohelp her seemed to give her confidence.
I have thought since that never did a man tell a maid of his love understranger circumstances. We were guarded on the right hand and the left,and we were being taken to judgement for having defied the laws of theland, yet had I chosen this time to declare the passion of my heart. Afew hours hence prison doors might clank upon us again, while perchancethe anger of those in high places might be so aroused that it might bemade impossible for us ever to set eyes on each other from that day.Still I told her of my love, while my heart, in spite of pain, sang forvery gladness. After all I was only a boy, and a boy whose heart is onfire recks not of circumstances.
I noticed presently that we were not going straight to London town, butthat we took a road to the right. I asked the reason for this; but noreply was given me. For that matter, the constables on guard seemed asmuch in the dark as I, and this set me wondering all the more.
We kept up a brisk pace all the day, travelling as I should judge, withthe exception of the time we stopped at a wayside hostelry for food andrefreshment, eight miles an hour. The road, especially when we left thehighway to London, was none of the best, being, in truth, little morethan track. Still we kept up good speed, and presently, when I saw thetowers of Great Castle I judged the reason why we had turned aside fromthe high road.
"That is Windsor," I said to myself. "It is as I thought; we are to betaken to the presence of the king." I looked towards Mistress ConstanceLeslie, and I perceived that she had also seen the castle. Perchance shealso had drawn the same conclusion. But she shewed no sign of fear. Thesame steady light burnt in her eyes, while I knew from the steadycompression of her lips that although Charles Stuart might be a hundredtimes king he would not be able to bend her will.
Even although I thought much of what might befall us when we werebrought into the king's presence, I could not help comparing thefortunes of Charles Stuart with those of a few months before. Then hedared not come near the land, which he in spite of his banishment calledhis own, while now he reigned in a royal palace. Then, under the sway ofOliver Cromwell, he could have found but few to do his bidding, but noweach man vied with the other to be foremost in fawning servility. Inlike manner, moreover, had the whole tone of the country changed. ThePuritan garb, and the Puritan manner of speech which had been so common,were scarcely anywhere present. A rollicking devil-may-care attitude hadtaken the place of sober seriousness.
I paid but little heed to the happenings near Windsor town, and WindsorCastle. My eyes were too constantly fixed on the woman I loved, and myheart was too full of fear lest some discourtesy might be paid to her.But I believed then, as I believe now, that command had been given forher to be treated as became her rank, rather than as one who hadoffended the king, for during the whole journey I neither saw nor heardanything which could give her pain.
We went straight to the Royal Palace, the beauty of which impressed megreatly as I drew near to it. Nought, I think, could be fairer than thebroad park lands, studded with stately oaks, amongst which deerfrolicked and gambolled. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the air wasladen with their perfume.
As we rode along I heard gay laughter, and I could have sworn I saw theking with a company of ladies standing by a broad sketch of water,throwing food to the birds which swam gracefully around.
A few minutes later we were in the Castle itself. This surprised megreatly, for I fancied we should be taken to one of the houses near, andlodged there until it was the king's pleasure to see us; but as I saidwe were taken straight to the Castle, although not to one of its mainentrances.
Directly I had entered, however, I lost sight of Mistress Constance.This distressed me sorely, but I comforted myself with the thought thatas she had been treated with such kindness throughout the journey shewould not now receive aught but civility. I noted that I was receivedwith some consideration. Food was placed before me, and a comfortableseat at a table. As may be imagined, I was thankful for this, for I wasboth weary and hungry. Half an hour later, however, my weariness hadgone. I had been able to appease my hunger, to brush my clothes and tosouse my head in cool pure water, so that instead of desiring rest Ilooked and listened eagerly for aught I might be able to see and hear.
As I said I was not treated as a prisoner, although two men remainednear me. I was, however, allowed to move around and take note of whatmight happen.
Many persons came and went. Mostly they were gay young gallants,although now and then I saw gray heads and sober faces. I saw that manylooked at me curiously, and then whispered to each other.
> "I hear that when his Majesty hath supped, he hath willed to have thisyoung couple before him."
This I heard plainly, and I thought the man who spoke looked towards meas he spoke.
"Ay," replied the man who was by his side, "his Majesty hath been atWindsor only two days, and yet he is already weary of the place. Afterall, eating and drinking, although it be in a king's palace, palls onone."
"And yet his Majesty is a good trencherman, and loves his wine."
"As to that, yes. That is true of all the Stuarts until their digestionis gone. But there is not a play to be seen here. In truth, for thatmatter the theatres of London, in spite of all that is being done, be ina shocking condition. As you know the king loves the drama, and alreadyseveral are being written for his special delectation. I warrant youthere will be no Puritanism in them save that it will be laughed at. Asfor morality--well the saints know we have had enough of that during OldNoll's time. Faith, I am fairly longing to see and hear one which I hearMaster Tom Killigrew is preparing. It is to be strong meat I hear."
After this they fell to talking about things with which I will notsully this history, for although the thing soon became common enough, Ihave no wish to write of the infidelity of wives, the faithlessness ofhusbands, and the duelling and brawling which followed in their train.It was revealed to me with great quickness, however, that alreadylooseness of living had not only become the order of the day, but thatit was talked about as though it was something to be boasted of.
Presently they again came back, as I thought, to the king's willconcerning Mistress Constance and myself.
"I hear the king was mightily disappointed when he heard that thePuritan's daughter did not try to kill Monk."
"Ay, but she did."
"No, not the one that is brought here. Still it is said he is greatlyinterested in the beauteous maid who has tried to save her sister. Ihear that both she and the young springald who sought to set her atliberty are to be brought before him directly after supper. It will bebetter than play-acting, he saith, and will give diversion to thecompany."
"Are they to be brought before the king's guests?"
"Ay, so I hear. It should be rare sport."
"But a curious way of administering justice."
"Tush, man. Charles Stuart cares nought for Monk, although he hath madehim the Duke of Albermarle, but he doth love diversion. The maid is fairtoo, fair as an angel I have been told. Old Leslie hath hidden her fromsight all her life, and this will only make her of more interest toCharles."
After this they went away, while I tried to understand what it allmeant. Nought happened for wellnigh two hours, however, and then twolackeys in gaily coloured livery came to me, and bid me follow them.
The Coming of the King Page 23
