When Knighthood Was in Flower

by Charles Major

  _CHAPTER XVI_

  _A Hawking Party_

  A few days after Brandon's departure, Mary, with the king's consent,organized a small party to go over to Windsor for a few weeks duringthe warm weather.

  There were ten or twelve of us, including two chaperons, the old Earlof Hertford and the dowager Duchess of Kent. Henry might as well havesent along a pair of spaniels to act as chaperons--it would have takenan army to guard Mary alone--and to tell you the truth our oldchaperons needed watching more than any of us. It was scandalous. Eachof them had a touch of gout, and when they made wry faces it was astanding inquiry among us whether they were leering at each other orfelt a twinge--whether it was their feet or their hearts, thattroubled them.

  Mary led them a pretty life at all times, even at home in the palace,and I know they would rather have gone off with a pack of imps thanwith us. The inducement was that it gave them better opportunities tobe together--an arrangement connived at by the queen, I think--andthey were satisfied. The earl had a wife, but he fancied the olddowager and she fancied him, and probably the wife fancied somebodyelse, so they were all happy. It greatly amused the young people, youmay be sure, and Mary said, probably without telling the exact truth,that every night she prayed God to pity and forgive their ugliness.One day the princess said she was becoming alarmed; their ugliness wasso intense she feared it might be contagious and spread. Then, with amost comical seriousness, she added:

  "Mon Dieu! Sir Edwin, what if I should catch it? Master Charles wouldnot take me."

  "No danger of that, my lady; he is too devoted to see anything butbeauty in you, no matter how much you might change."

  "Do you really think so? He says so little about it that sometimes Ialmost doubt."

  Therein she spoke the secret of Brandon's success with her, at leastin the beginning; for there is wonderful potency in the stimulus of ahealthy little doubt.

  We had a delightful canter over to Windsor, I riding with Mary most ofthe way. I was not averse to this arrangement, as I not only relishedMary's mirth and joyousness, which was at its height, but hoped Imight give my little Lady Jane a twinge or two of jealousy perchanceto fertilize her sentiments toward me.

  Mary talked, and laughed, and sang, for her soul was a fountain ofgladness that bubbled up the instant pressure was removed. She spokeof little but our last trip over this same road, and, as we passedobjects on the way, told me of what Brandon had said at this placeand that. She laughed and dimpled exquisitely in relating how she haddeliberately made opportunities for him to flatter her, until, atlast, he smiled in her face and told her she was the most beautifulcreature living, but that "after all, 'beauty was as beauty did!'"

  "That made me angry," said she. "I pouted for a while, and, two orthree times, was on the point of dismissing him, but thought better ofit and asked him plainly wherein I did so much amiss. Then what do youthink the impudent fellow said?"

  "I cannot guess."

  "He said: 'Oh, there is so much it would take a lifetime to tell it.'

  "This made me furious, but I could not answer, and a moment later hesaid: 'Nevertheless I should be only too glad to undertake the task.'

  "The thought never occurred to either of us then that he would betaken at his word. Bold? I should think he was; I never saw anythinglike it! I have not told you a tenth part of what he said to me thatday; he said anything he wished, and it seemed that I could neitherstop him nor retaliate. Half the time I was angry and half the timeamused, but by the time we reached Windsor there never was a girl morehopelessly and desperately in love than Mary Tudor." And she laughedas if it were a huge joke on Mary.

  She continued: "That day settled matters with me for all time. I don'tknow how he did it. Yes I do...." and she launched forth into anaccount of Brandon's perfections, which I found somewhat dull, and sowould you.

  We remained a day or two at Windsor, and then, over the objections ofour chaperons, moved on to Berkeley Castle, where Margaret of Scotlandwas spending the summer.

  We had another beautiful ride up the dear old Thames to Berkeley, butMary had grown serious and saw none of it.

  On the afternoon of the appointed day, the princess suggested ahawking party, and we set out in the direction of the rendezvous. Ourparty consisted of myself, three other gentlemen and three ladiesbesides Mary. Jane did not go; I was afraid to trust her. She wept,and, with difficulty, forced herself to say something about aheadache, but the rest of the inmates of the castle of course had nothought that possibly they were taking their last look upon MaryTudor.

  Think who this girl was we were running away with! What reckless foolswe were not to have seen the utter hopelessness, certain failure, anddeadly peril of our act; treason black as Plutonian midnight. ButProvidence seems to have an especial care for fools, while wise menare left to care for themselves, and it does look as if safety lies infolly.

  We rode on and on, and although I took two occasions, in the presenceof others, to urge Mary to return, owing to the approach of night andthreatened rain, she took her own head, as everybody knew she alwayswould, and continued the hunt.

  Just before dark, as we neared the rendezvous, Mary and I managed toride ahead of the party quite a distance. At last we saw a heron rise,and the princess uncapped her hawk.

  "This is my chance," she said; "I will run away from you now and losemyself; keep them off my track for five minutes and I shall be safe.Good-bye, Edwin; you and Jane are the only persons I regret to leave.I love you as my brother and sister. When we are settled in New Spainwe will have you both come to us. Now, Edwin, I shall tell yousomething: don't let Jane put you off any longer. She loves you; shetold me so. There! Good-bye, my friend; kiss her a thousand times forme." And she flew her bird and galloped after it at headlong speed.

  As I saw the beautiful young form receding from me, perhaps forever,the tears stood in my eyes, while I thought of the strong heart thatso unfalteringly braved such dangers and was so loyal to itself anddaring for its love. She had shown a little feverish excitement for aday or two, but it was the fever of anticipation, not of fear orhesitancy.

  Soon the princess was out of sight, and I waited for the others toovertake me. When they came up I was greeted in chorus: "Where is theprincess?" I said she had gone off with her hawk, and had left me tobring them after her. I held them talking while I could, and when westarted to follow took up the wrong scent. A short ride made thisapparent, when I came in for my full share of abuse and ridicule, forI had led them against their judgment. I was credited with being ablockhead, when in fact they were the dupes.

  We rode hurriedly back to the point of Mary's departure and wound ourhorns lustily, but my object had been accomplished, and I knew thatwithin twenty minutes from the time I last saw her, she would be withBrandon, on the road to Bristol, gaining on any pursuit we could makeat the rate of three miles for two. We scoured the forest far andnear, but of course found no trace. After a time rain set in and oneof the gentlemen escorted the ladies home, while three of us remainedto prowl about the woods and roads all night in a soaking drizzle. Thetask was tiresome enough for me, as it lacked motive; and when we rodeinto Berkeley Castle next day, a sorrier set of bedraggled,rain-stained, mud-covered knights you never saw. You may know thecastle was wild with excitement. There were all sorts of conjectures,but soon we unanimously concluded it had been the work of highwaymen,of whom the country was full, and by whom the princess had certainlybeen abducted.

  The chaperons forgot their gout and each other, and Jane, who was themost affected of all, had a genuine excuse for giving vent to hergrief and went to bed--by far the safest place for her.

  What was to be done? First we sent a message to the king, who wouldprobably have us all flayed alive--a fear which the chaperons sharedto the fullest extent. Next, an armed party rode back to look againfor Mary, and, if possible, rescue her.

  The fact that I had been out the entire night before, together withthe small repute in which I was held for deeds of arms, excused mefro
m taking part in this bootless errand, so again I profited by thesmall esteem in which I was held. I say I profited, for I stayed atthe castle with Jane, hoping to find my opportunity in the absence ofeverybody else. All the ladies but Jane had ridden out, and theknights who had been with me scouring the forest were sleeping, sincethey had not my incentive to remain awake. They had no message todeliver; no duty to perform for an absent friend. A thousand! Onlythink of it! I wished it had been a million, and so faithful was I tomy trust that I swore in my soul I would deliver them, every one.

  And Jane loved me! No more walking on the hard, prosaic earth now;from this time forth I would fly; that was the only sensible method oflocomotion. Mary had said: "She told me so." Could it really be true?You will at once see what an advantage this bit of information was tome.

  I hoped that Jane would wish to see me to talk over Mary's escape--soI sent word to her that I was waiting, and she quickly enoughrecovered her health and came down. I suggested that we walk out to asecluded little summer-house by the river, and Jane was willing. Ah!my opportunity was here at last.

  She found her bonnet, and out we went. What an enchanting walk wasthat, and how rich is a man who has laid up such treasures of memoryto grow the sweeter as he feeds upon them. A rich memory is betterthan hope, for it lasts after fruition, and serves us at a time whenhope has failed and fruition is but--a memory. Ah! how we cherish itin our hearts, and how it comes at our beck and call to thrill usthrough and through and make us thank God that we have lived, andwonder in our hearts why he has given poor undeserving us so much.

  After we arrived at the summer-house, Jane listened, half the time intears, while I told her all about Mary's flight.

  Shall I ever forget that summer day? A sweet briar entwined ourenchanted bower, and, when I catch its scent even now, time-vaultingmemory carries me back, making years seem as days, and I see it all asI saw the light of noon that moment--and all was Jane. The softlylapping river, as it gently sought the sea, sang in soothing cadenceof naught but Jane; the south wind from his flowery home breathedzephyr-voiced her name again, and, as it stirred the rustling leaveson bush and tree, they whispered back the same sweet strain; andevery fairy voice found its echo in my soul; for there it was as 'twaswith me, "Jane! Jane! Jane!" I have heard men say they would not livetheir lives over and take its meager grains of happiness, in suchinfinite disproportion to its grief and pain, but, as for me, thanksto one woman, I almost have the minutes numbered all along the way,and know them one from the other; and when I sit alone to dream, andlive again some portion of the happy past, I hardly know what time tochoose or incident to dwell upon, my life is so much crowded with themall. Would I live again my life? Aye, every moment except perhaps whenJane was ill--and therein even was happiness, for what a joy there wasat her recovery. I do not even regret that it is closing; it would beungrateful; I have had so much more than my share that I simply fallupon my knees and thank God for what He has given.

  Jane's whole attitude toward me was changed, and she seemed to clingto me in a shy, unconscious manner, that was sweet beyond the naming,as the one solace for all her grief.

  After I had answered all her questions, and had told her over and overagain every detail of Mary's flight, and had assured her that theprincess was, at that hour, breasting the waves with Brandon, on theirhigh road to paradise, I thought it time to start myself in the samedirection and to say a word in my own behalf. So I spoke very freelyand told Jane what I felt and what I wanted.

  "Oh! Sir Edwin," she responded, "let us not think of anything but mymistress. Think of the trouble she is in."

  "No! no! Jane; Lady Mary is out of her trouble by now, and is as happyas a lark, you may be sure. Has she not won everything her heartlonged for? Then let us make our own paradise, since we have helpedthem make theirs. You have it, Jane, just within your lips; speak theword and it will change everything--if you love me, and I know youdo."

  Jane's head was bowed and she remained silent.

  Then I told her of Lady Mary's message, and begged, if she would notspeak in words what I so longed to hear, she would at least tell it byallowing me to deliver only one little thousandth part of the messageMary had sent; but she drew away and said she would return to thecastle if I continued to behave in that manner. I begged hard, andtried to argue the point, but logic seems to lose its force in such asituation, and all I said availed nothing. Jane was obdurate, and wasfor going back at once. Her persistence was beginning to look likeobstinacy, and I soon grew so angry that I asked no permission, butdelivered Mary's message, or a good part of it, at least, whether shewould or no, and then sat back and asked her what she was going to doabout it.

  Poor little Jane thought she was undone for life. She sat there halfpouting, half weeping, and said she could do nothing about it; thatshe was alone now, and if I, her only friend, would treat her thatway, she did not know where to look.

  "Where to look?" I demanded. "Look _here_, Jane, here; you might aswell understand, first as last, that I will not be trifled withlonger, and that I intend to continue treating you that way as long aswe both live. I have determined not to permit you to behave as youhave for so long; for I know you love me. You have half told me so adozen times, and even your half words are whole truths; there is not afraction of a lie in you. Besides, Mary told me that you told her so."

  "She did not tell you that?"

  "Yes; upon my knightly honor." Of course there was but one answer tothis--tears. I then brought the battle to close quarters at once, and,with my arm uninterrupted at my lady's waist, asked:

  "Did you not tell her so? I know you will speak nothing but the truth.Did you not tell her? Answer me, Jane." The fair head nodded as shewhispered between the hands that covered her face:

  "Yes; I--I--d-did;" and I--well, I delivered the rest of Mary'smessage, and that, too, without a protest from Jane.

  Truthfulness is a pretty good thing after all.

  So Jane was conquered at last, and I heaved a sigh as the battleended, for it had been a long, hard struggle.

  I asked Jane when we should be married, but she said she could notthink of that now--not until she knew that Mary was safe; but shewould promise to be my wife sometime. I told her that her word was asgood as gold to me; and so it was and always has been; as good as finegold thrice refined. I then told her I would bother her no more aboutit, now that I was sure of her, but when she was ready she should tellme of her own accord and make my happiness complete. She said shewould, and I told her I believed her and was satisfied. I did,however, suggest that the intervening time would be worse thanwasted--happiness thrown right in the face of Providence, as itwere--and begged her not to waste any more than necessary; to whichshe seriously and honestly answered that she would not.

  We went back to the castle, and as we parted Jane said timidly: "I amglad I told you, Edwin; glad it is over."

  She had evidently dreaded it; but--I was glad, too; very glad. Then Iwent to bed.