St. George and St. Michael

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER XLV.

  THE SECRET INTERVIEW.

  Between the third of July, when he first came, and the fifteenth ofSeptember, when he last departed, the king went and came several times.During his last visit a remarkable interview took place between him andhis host, the particulars of which are circumstantially given by Dr.Bayly in the little book he calls Certamen Religiosum: to me it falls torecount after him some of the said particulars, because, althoughDorothy was brought but one little step within the sphere of theinterview, certain results were which bore a large influence upon herhistory.

  'Though money came from him,' that is, the marquis, 'like drops ofblood,' says Dr. Bayly, 'yet was he contented that every drop within hisbody should be let out,' if only he might be the instrument of bringinghis majesty back to the bosom of the catholic church--a bosom which nodoubt the marquis found as soft as it was capacious, but which the kingregarded as a good deal resembling that of a careless nurse rather thanmother--frized with pins, and here and there a cruel needle. Therefore,expecting every hour that the king would apply to him for more money,the marquis had resolved that, at such time as he should do so, he wouldmake an attempt to lead the stray sheep within the fold--for the marquiswas not one of those who regarded a protestant as necessarily a goat.

  But the king shrank from making the request in person, and havinglearned that the marquis had been at one point in his history under thedeepest obligation to Dr. Bayly, who having then preserved both hislordship's life and a large sum of money he carried with him, by'concealing both for the space that the moon useth to be twice in ridingof her circuit,' had thereafter become a member of his family and asharer in his deepest confidence, greatly desired that the doctor shouldtake the office of mediator between him and the marquis.

  The king's will having been already conveyed to the doctor, in theking's presence colonel Lingen came up to him and said,

  'Dr. Bayly, the king, much wishing your aid in this matter, saith hedelights not to be a beggar, and yet is constrained thereunto.'

  'I am at his majesty's disposal,' returned the doctor, 'although Iconfess myself somewhat loath to be the beetle-head that must drive thiswedge.'

  'Nay,' said the colonel, 'they tell me that no man can make a divorcebetween the Babylonish garment and the wedge of gold sooner thanthyself, good doctor.'

  The end was that he undertook the business, though withreluctance--unwilling to be 'made an instrument to let the same horsebleed whom the king himself had found so free'--and sought the marquisin his study.

  'My lord,' he said, 'the thing that I feared is now fallen upon me. I ammade the unwelcome messenger of bad news: the king wants money.'

  'Hold, sir! that's no news,' interrupted the marquis. 'Go on with yourbusiness.'

  'My lord,' said the doctor, 'there is one comfort yet, that, as the kingis brought low, so are his demands, and, like his army, are come downfrom thousands to hundreds, and from paying the soldiers of his army tobuying bread for himself and his followers. My lord, it is the king'sown expression, and his desire is but three hundred pound.'

  Lord Worcester remained a long time silent, and Dr. Bayly waited,'knowing by experience that in such cases it was best leaving him tohimself, and to let that nature that was so good work itself into an actof the highest charity, like the diamond which is only polished with itsown dust.'

  'Come hither--come nearer, my good doctor,' said his lordship at length:'hath the king himself spoken unto thee concerning any such business?'

  'The king himself hath not, my lord, but others did, in the king'shearing.'

  'Might I but speak unto him--,' said the marquis. 'But I was neverthought worthy to be consulted with, though in matters merely concerningthe affairs of my own country!--I would supply his wants, were theynever so great, or whatsoever they were.'

  'If the king knew as much, my lord, you might quickly speak with him,'remarked the doctor.

  'The way to have him know so much is to have somebody to tell him ofit,' said the marquis testily.

  'Will your lordship give me leave to be the informer?' asked the doctor.

  'Truly I spake it to the purpose,' answered the marquis.

  Away ran the little doctor, ambling through the picture-gallery, 'halfgoing and half running,' like some short-winged bird--his hearttrembling lest the marquis should change his mind and call him back, andso his pride in his successful mediation be mortified--to the king'schamber, where he told his majesty with diplomatic reserve, andsomething of diplomatic cunning, enhancing the difficulties, that he hadperceived his lordship desired some conference with him, and that hebelieved, if the king granted such conference, he would find a moregenerous response to his necessities than perhaps he expected. The kingreadily consenting, the doctor went on to say that his lordship muchwished the interview that very night. The king asked how it could bemanaged, and the doctor told him the marquis had contrived it before hismajesty came to the castle, having for that reason appointed the placewhere they were for his bed-chamber, and not that in the great tower,which the marquis himself liked the best in the castle.

  'I know my lord's drift well enough,' said the king, smiling: 'either hemeans to chide me, or else to convert me to his religion.'

  'I doubt not, sire,' returned the doctor, 'but your majesty istemptation-proof as well as correction-free, and will return the sameman you go, having made a profitable exchange of gold and silver forwords and sleep.'

  Upon Dr. Bayly's report of his success, the marquis sent him back totell the king that at eleven o'clock he would be waiting his majesty ina certain room to which the doctor would conduct him.

  This was the room the marquis's father had occupied and in which hedied, called therefore 'my lord Privy-seal's chamber.' Since then themarquis had never allowed any one to sleep in it, hardly any one to gointo it; whence it came that although all the rest of the castle wascrowded, this one room remained empty and fit for their purpose.

  To understand the precautions taken to keep their interview a secret, wemust remember that, although he had not a better friend in all England,such reason had the king to fear losing his protestant friends fromtheir jealousy of catholic influence, that he had never invited themarquis of Worcester to sit with him in council; and that the marquis onhis part was afraid both of injuring the cause of the king, and of beinghimself impeached for treason. Should any of the king's attendant lordsdiscover that they were closeted together, he dreaded the suspicion andaccusation of another Gowry conspiracy even. His lordship thereforeinstructed Dr. Bayly to go, as the time drew nigh, to the drawing-room,which was next the marquis's chamber, and the dining parlour, throughboth of which he must pass to reach the appointed place, and clear themof the company which might be in them. The chaplain desiring to know howhe was to manage it, so that it should not look strange and arousesuspicion, and what he should do if any were unwilling to go,--

  'I will tell you what you shall do,' said the marquis hastily, 'so thatyou shall not need to fear any such thing. Go unto the yeoman of thewine-cellar, and bid him leave the keys of the wine-cellar with you, andall that you find in your way, invite them down into the cellar, andshow them the keys, and I warrant you, you shall sweep the room of them,if there were a hundred. And when you have done, leave them there.'

  But having thus arranged, the marquis grew anxious again. He rememberedthat it was not unusual to pass to the hall from the northern side ofthe fountain court, where were most of the rooms of the ladies'gentlewomen, through the picture-gallery, entering it by a passage andstair which connected the bell-tower with one of its deep windowrecesses, and leaving it by a door in the middle of the opposite side,admitting to a stair in the thickness of the wall--which led downwards,opening to the minstrels' gallery on the left hand, and a little furtherbelow, to the organ loft in the chapel on the right hand. It was not theleast likely that any of the ladies or their attendants would be passingthat way so late at night, but there was a possibility, and that wasenough, the marquis being anx
ious and nervous, to render him more so.

  There was, however, another and more threatening possibility ofencounter. He remembered that Mr. Delaware, the master of his horse, hadlately removed to that part of the house: and the fear came upon himlest his blind son, who frequently turned night into day in his love forthe organ, and was uncertain in his movements between chapel andchamber, the direct way being that just described, should by evil chanceappear at the very moment of the king's passing, and alarm him--forthrough the gallery Dr. Bayly must lead his majesty to reach my lordPrivy-seal's chamber. The marquis, therefore, although reluctant tointroduce another even to the externals of the plot, felt that theassistance of a second confidant was more than desirable, and turningthe matter over, could think of no one whom he could trust so well, andwho at the same time would, if seen, be so little liable to the sort ofsuspicion he dreaded, as Dorothy. He therefore sent for her, told her asmuch as he thought proper, gave her the key of his private passage tothe gallery, leading across the top of the hall-door, the only directcommunication from the southern side of the castle, and generally keptclosed, and directed her to be in the gallery ten minutes before eleven,to lock the door at the top of the stair leading down into the hall, andtake her stand in the window at the foot of the stair from thebell-tower, where the door was without a lock, and see that no oneentered by order of the marquis for the king's repose, enjoining uponher that, whatever she saw or heard from any other quarter, she mustkeep perfectly still, nor let any one discover that she was there. Withthese instructions, his lordship, considerably relieved, dismissed her,and went to lie down upon his bed, and have a nap if he could. He hadalready given the chaplain the key of his chamber, the door of which healways locked, that he might enter and wake him when the appointed hourwas at hand.

  As soon as he began to feel that eleven o'clock was drawing near, Dr.Bayly proceeded to reconnoitre. The marquis's plan, although he couldthink of none better, was not altogether satisfactory, and it was to hisrelief that he found nobody in the dining-room. When he entered thedrawing-room, however, there, to his equal annoyance, he saw in thelight of one expiring candle the dim figure of a lady; he could notoffer HER the keys of the wine-cellar! What was he to do? What could shebe there for? He drew nearer, and, with a positive pang of relief,discovered that it was Dorothy. A word was enough between them. But thegood doctor was just a little annoyed that a second should share in thesecret of the great ones.

  The next room was the antechamber to the marquis's bedroom: timorouslyon tiptoe he stepped through it, fearful of waking the two younggentlemen--for Scudamore's place had been easily supplied--who waitedupon his lordship. Opening the inner door as softly as he could, hecrept in, and found the marquis fast asleep. So slowly, so gently did hewake him, that his lordship insisted he had not slept at all; but whenhe told him that the time was come--

  'What time?' he asked.

  'For meeting the king,' replied the doctor.

  'What king?' rejoined the marquis, in a kind of bewildered horror.

  The more he came to himself, the more distressed he seemed, and the moreunwilling to keep the appointment he had been so eager to make, so thatat length even Dr. Bayly was tempted to doubt something evil in the'design that carried with it such a conflict within the bosom of theactor.' It soon became evident, however, that it was but the dread ofsuch possible consequences as I have already indicated that thus movedhim.

  'Fie, fie!' he said; 'I would to God I had let it alone.'

  'My lord,' said the doctor, 'you know your own heart best. If there benothing in your intentions but what is good and justifiable, you neednot fear; if otherwise, it is never too late to repent.'

  'Ah, doctor!' returned the marquis with troubled look, 'I thought I hadbeen sure of one friend, and that you would never have harboured theleast suspicion of me. God knows my heart: I have no other intentiontowards his majesty than to make him a glorious man here, and aglorified saint hereafter.'

  'Then, my lord,' said Dr. Bayly, 'shake off these fears together withthe drowsiness that begat them. Honi soit qui mal y pense.'

  'Oh, but I am not of that order!' said the marquis; 'but I thank God Iwear that motto about my heart, to as much purpose as they who wear itabout their arms.'

  'He then,' reports the doctor, 'began to be a little pleasant, and tooka pipe of tobacco, and a little glass full of aqua mirabilis, and said,"Come now, let us go in the name of God," crossing himself.'

  My love for the marquis has led me to recount this curious story withgreater minuteness than is necessary to the understanding of Dorothy'spart in what follows, but the worthy doctor's account is so graphic thateven for its own sake, had it been fitting, I would gladly have copiedit word for word from the Certamen Religiosum.

  It is indeed a strange story--king and marquis, attended by a doctor ofdivinity, of the faith of the one, but the trusted friend of the other,meeting--at midnight, although in the house of the marquis--to discusspoints of theology--both king and marquis in mortal terror of discovery.

  Meantime Dorothy had done as she had been ordered, had felt her waythrough the darkness to the picture-gallery, had locked the door at thetop of the one stair, and taken her stand in the recess at the foot ofthe other--in pitch darkness, close to the king's bedchamber, for thegallery was but thirteen feet in width, keeping watch over him! Thedarkness felt like awe around her.

  The door of the chamber opened: it gave no sound, but the glimmer of thenight-light shone out. By that she saw a figure enter the gallery. Thedoor closed softly and slowly, and all was darkness again. No sound ofmovement across the floor followed: but she heard a deep sigh, as from asorely burdened heart. Then, in an agonised whisper, as if wrung bytorture from the depths of the spirit, came the words: 'Oh Stafford,thou art avenged! I left thee to thy fate, and God hath left me to mine.Thou didst go for me to the scaffold, but thou wilt not out of mychamber. O God, deliver me from blood-guiltiness.'

  Dorothy stood in dismay, a mere vessel containing a tumult of emotions.The king re-entered his chamber, and closed the door. The same instant alight appeared at the further end of the gallery--a long way off, andDr. Bayly came, like a Will o' the wisp, gliding from afar; till, softlywalking up, he stopped within a yard or two of the king's door, andthere stood, with his candle in his hand. His round face was pale thatshould have been red, and his small keen eyes shone in the candle lightwith mingled importance and anxiety. He saw Dorothy, but the only noticehe took of her presence was to turn from her with his face towards theking's door, so that his shadow might shroud the recess where she stood.

  A minute or so passed, and the king's door re-opened. He came out, saida few words in a whisper to his guide, and walked with him down thegallery, whispering as he went.

  Dorothy hastened to her chamber, threw herself on the bed, and wept. Theking was cast from the throne of her conscience, but taken into thehospital of her heart.

  What followed between the king and the marquis belongs not to my tale.When, after a long talk, the chaplain had conducted the king to hischamber and returned to lord Worcester, he found him in the dark uponhis knees.