Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE CLASH OF SWORDS.

  Festivals in the middle ages were conducted by day rather than bynight, and it was a bright noonday sun that shone upon the great hallat Sheffield, bedecked with rich tapestry around the dais, where thefloor was further spread with Eastern carpets. Below, the garniture ofthe walls was of green boughs, interspersed between stag's antlers, andthe floor was strewn, in ancient fashion, with the fragrant rush.

  All the tables, however, were spread with pure white napery, thedifference being only in texture, but the higher table rejoiced in thewonderful extravagance of silver plates, while the lower had onlytrenchers. As to knives, each guest brought his or her own, and forkswere not yet, but bread, in long fingers of crust, was provided to alarge amount to supply the want. Splendid salt-cellars, towering aslandmarks to the various degrees of guests, tankards, gilt and parcelgilt or shining with silver, perfectly swarmed along the board, and themeanest of the guests present drank from silver-rimmed cups of horn,while for the very greatest were reserved the tall, slender, opalVenice glasses, recently purchased by the Countess in London.

  The pies, the glory of Yorkshire, surpassed themselves. The youngbride and bridegroom had the felicity of contemplating one whose crustwas elevated into the altar of Hymen, with their own selves unitedthereat, attended by numerous Cupids, made chiefly in paste and sugar,and with little wings from the feathers of the many slaughtered fowlwithin. As to the jellies, the devices and the subtilties, the penrefuses to describe them! It will be enough to say that the weddingitself was the least part of the entertainment. It was gone throughwith very few spectators in the early morning, and the guests onlyassembled afterwards to this mighty dinner at a somewhat earlier hourthan they would now to a wedding breakfast. The sewer marshalled allthe guests in pairs according to their rank, having gone through theroll with his mistress, just as the lady of the house or heraide-de-camp pairs the guests and puts cards in their plates in moderntimes. Every one was there who had any connection with the Earl; andCis, though flashes of recollection of her true claims would comeacross her now and then, was unable to keep from being eager about herfirst gaiety. Perhaps the strange life she had led at Buxton, as itreceded in the distance, became more and more unreal and shadowy, andshe was growing back into the simple Cicely she had always believedherself. It was with perfectly girlish natural pleasure that shedonned the delicate sky-blue farthingale, embroidered with white liliesby the skilful hands of the captive Queen, and the daintily-fashionedlittle cap of Flanders lace, and practised the pretty dancing stepswhich the Queen had amused herself with teaching her long ere they knewthey were mother and daughter.

  As Talbots, the Bridgefield family were spectators of the wedding,after which, one by one, the seneschal paired them off. Richard wascalled away first, then a huge old Yorkshire knight came and bore awayMrs. Susan, and after an interval, during which the young peopleentertained hopes of keeping together in enviable obscurity, thefollowing summons to the board was heard in a loud voice--

  "Master Antony Babington, Esquire, of Dethick; Mistress Cicely Talbot,of Bridgefield."

  Humfrey's brow grew dark with disappointment, but cleared into afriendly greeting, as there advanced a tall, slender gentleman, of thewell-known fair, pink and white colouring, and yellow hair, apparelledpoint device in dark green velvet, with a full delicately crimped ruff,bowing low as he extended his hand to take that of the young lady,exchanging at the same time a friendly greeting with his old comrade,before leading Cis to her place.

  On the whole, she was pleased. Tete-a-tetes with Humfrey weredreadfully embarrassing, and she felt life so flat without hernocturnal romance that she was very glad to have some one who wouldcare to talk to her of the Queen. In point of fact, such conversationwas prohibited. In the former days, when there had been much moreintercourse between the Earl's household and the neighbourhood, regularcautions had been given to every member of it not to discuss theprisoner or make any communication about her habits. The youngergeneration who had grown up in the time of the closer captivity hadnever been instructed in these laws, for the simple reason that theyhardly saw any one. Antony and Cicely were likewise most comfortablyisolated, for she was flanked by a young esquire, who had no eyes norears save for the fair widow of sixteen whom he had just led in, andAntony, by a fat and deaf lady, whose only interest was in tasting asmany varieties of good cheer as she could, and trying to discover howand of what they were compounded. Knowing Mistress Cicely to be amember of the family, she once or twice referred the question to heracross Antony, but getting very little satisfaction, she gave up theyoung lady as a bad specimen of housewifery, and was forced to becontent with her own inductions.

  There was plenty of time for Antony to begin with, "Are there as manyconies as ever in the chase?" and to begin on a discussion of all thememories connected with the free days of childhood, the blackberry andbilberry gatherings, the hide-and-seek in the rocks and heather, theconsternation when little Dick was lost, the audacious comedy with theunsuspected spectators, and all the hundred and one recollections, lessmemorable perhaps, but no less delightful to both. It was only thusgradually that they approached their recent encounter in the CastletonCavern, and Antony explained how he had burnt to see his dear Queen andmistress once again, and that his friends, Tichborne and the rest, wereready to kiss every footstep she had taken, and almost worshipped himand John Eyre for contriving this mode of letting them behold thehitherto unknown object of their veneration.

  All that passionate, chivalrous devotion, which in Sidney, Spenser, andmany more attached itself to then-great Gloriana, had in these youngmen, all either secretly or openly reconciled to Rome, found its objectin that rival in whom Edmund Spenser only beheld his false Duessa orsnowy Florimel. And, indeed, romance had in her a congenial heroine,who needed little self-blinding so to appear. Her beauty needed noillusion to be credited. Even at her age, now over forty, the glimpsethey had had in the fitful torchlight of the cavern had been ravishing,and had confirmed all they had ever heard of her witching loveliness;nor did they recollect how that very obscurity might have assisted it.

  To their convictions, she was the only legitimate sovereign in theisland, a confessor for their beloved Church, a captive princess andbeauty driven from her throne, and kept in durance by a usurper. Thusevery generous feeling was enlisted in her cause, with nothing tocounterbalance them save the English hatred of the Spaniard, with whomher cause was inextricably linked; a dread of what might be inflictedon the country in the triumph of her party; and in some, a strangeinconsistent personal loyalty to Elizabeth; but all these they wereinstructed to believe mere temptations and delusions that ought to bebrushed aside as cobwebs.

  Antony's Puritan tutor at Cambridge had, as Richard Talbot hadforeboded, done little but add to his detestation of the Reformation,and he had since fallen in with several of the seminary priests whowere circulating in England. Some were devoted and pious men, who atthe utmost risk went from house to house to confirm the faith andconstancy of the old families of their own communion. The saintlymartyr spirit of one of these, whom Antony met in the house of akinsman of his mother, had so wrought on him as to bring him heart andsoul back to his mother's profession, in which he had been secretlynurtured in early childhood, and which had received additionalconfirmation at Sheffield, where Queen Mary and her ladies had alwaysshown that they regarded him as one of themselves, sure to return tothem when he was his own master. It was not, however, of this that hespoke to Cis, but whatever she ventured to tell him of the Queen waslistened to with delight as an extreme favour, which set her tongue offwith all the eager pleasure of a girl, telling what she alone can tell.

  All through the banquet they talked, for Babington had much to ask ofall the members of the household whom he had known. And after thefeast was over and the hall was cleared for dancing, Antony was still,by etiquette, her partner for the evening. The young bride andbridegroom had first to perform a stately pavi
se before the wholeassembly in the centre of the floor, in which, poor young things, theyacquitted themselves much as if they were in the dancing-master'shands. Then her father led out his mother, and vice verse. Thebridegroom had no grandparents, but the stately Earl handed forth hislittle active wiry Countess, bowing over her with a grand stiffdevotion as genuine and earnest as at their wedding twenty yearspreviously, for the reconciliation had been complete, and had restoredall her ascendency over him. Theirs, as Mistress Susan exultinglyagreed with a Hardwicke kinsman not seen for many years, was thegrandest and most featly of all the performances. All the time eachpair were performing, the others were awaiting their turn, the ladiesin rows on benches or settles, the gentlemen sometimes standing beforethem, sometimes sitting on cushions or steps at their feet, sometimeshanding them comfits of sugar or dried fruits.

  The number of gentlemen was greatly in excess, so that Humfrey had nosuch agreeable occupation, but had to stand in a herd among other youngmen, watching with no gratified eye Antony Babington, in a gracefulattitude at Cicely's feet, while she conversed with him with untiringanimation.

  Humfrey was not the only one to remark them. Lady Shrewsbury noddedonce or twice to herself as one who had discovered what she sought, andthe next morning a mandate arrived at Bridgefield that Master Richardand his wife should come to speak with my Lady Countess.

  Richard and his son were out of reach, having joined a party of theguests who had gone out hunting. Susan had to go alone, for she wishedto keep Cicely as much as possible out of her Ladyship's sight, so sheleft the girl in charge of her keys, so that if father brought home anyof the hunters to the midday meal, tankards and glasses might not belacking.

  The Countess's summons was to her own bower, a sort of dressing-room,within her great state bed-room, and with a small glazed window lookingdown into the great hall where her ladies sat at work, whence she couldon occasion call down orders or directions or reproofs. Susan had knownwhat it was to stand in dread of such a window at Chatsworth orHardwicke, whence shrill shrieks of objurgation, followed sometimes bysuch missiles as pincushions, shoes, or combs. However the window wasnow closed, and my Lady sat in her arm-chair, as on a throne, a stoolbeing set, to which she motioned her kinswoman.

  "So! Susan Talbot," she said, "I have sent for you to do you a goodturn, for you are mine own kinswoman of the Hardwicke blood, and haveever been reasonably humble and dutiful towards me and my Lord."

  Mrs. Talbot did not by any means view this speech as the insult itwould in these days appear to a lady of her birth and position, butaccepted it as the compliment it was intended to be.

  "Thus," continued Lady Shrewsbury, "I have always cast about how tomarry that daughter of yours fitly. It would have been done ere now,had not that Scottish woman's tongue made mischief between me and myLord, but I am come home to rule my own house now, and mine own bloodhave the first claim on me."

  The alarm always excited by a summons to speak with my Lady Countessbegan to acquire definite form, and Susan made answer, "Your Ladyshipis very good, but I doubt me whether my husband desires to bestowCicely in marriage as yet."

  "He hath surely received no marriage proposals for her without myknowledge or my Lord's," said Bess of Hardwicke, who was prepared tostrain all feudal claims to the uttermost.

  "No, madam, but--"

  "Tell me not that you or he have the presumption to think that my sonWilliam Cavendish or even Edward Talbot will ever cast an eye on a mereportionless country maid, not comely, nor even like the Hardwickes orthe Talbots. If I thought so for a moment, never shouldst thou darkenthese doors again, thou ungrateful, treacherous woman."

  "Neither of us ever had the thought, far less the wish," said Susanmost sincerely.

  "Well, thou wast ever a simple woman, Susan Talbot," said the greatlady, thereby meaning truthful, "so I will e'en take thy word for it,the more readily that I made contracts for both the lads when I was atcourt. As to Dick Talbot not being fain to bestow her, I trow that isbecause ye have spent too much on your long-legged sons to be able tolay down a portion for her, though she be your only daughter. Anan?"

  For though this was quite true, Susan feeling that it was not the wholetruth, made but faint response. However, the Countess went on,expecting to overpower her with gratitude. "The gentleman I mean iswilling to take her in her smock, and moreover his wardship andmarriage were granted to my Lord by her Majesty. Thou knowest whom Imean."

  She wanted to hear a guess, and Susan actually foreboded the truth, butwas too full of dismay and perplexity to do anything but shake her headas one puzzled.

  "What think'st thou of Mr. Babington?" triumphantly exclaimed theCountess.

  "Mr. Babington!" returned Susan. "But he is no longer a ward!"

  "No. We had granted his marriage to a little niece of my LordTreasurer's, but she died ere coming to age. Then Tom Ratcliffe's wifewould have him for her daughter, a mere babe. But for that thou andthine husband have done good service while evil tongues kept me absent,and because the wench comes of our own blood, we are willing to bestowher upon him, he showing himself willing and content, as bents a ladbred in our own household."

  "Madam, we are much beholden to you and my Lord, but sure Mr. Babingtonis more inclined to the old faith."

  "Tush, woman, what of that? Thou mayst say the same of half ourNorthern youth! They think it grand to dabble with seminary priests inhiding, and talk big about their conscience and the like, but whenthey've seen a neighbour or two pay down a heavy fine for recusancy,they think better of it, and a good wife settles their brains to jog tochurch to hear the parson with the rest of them."

  "I fear me Cis is over young to settle any one's mind," said Susan.

  "She is seventeen if she is a day," said my Lady, "and I was a weddedwife ere I saw my teens. Moreover, I will say for thee, Susan, thatthou hast bred the girl as becomes one trained in my household, andunless she have been spoiled by resort to the Scottish woman, she islike to make the lad a moderately good wife, having seen nought of theunthrifty modes of the fine court dames, who queen it with standingruffs a foot high, and coloured with turmeric, so please you, but whoknow no more how to bake a marchpane, or roll puff paste, than yondermessan dog!"

  "She is a good girl," said Susan, "but--"

  "What has the foolish wife to object now?" said the Countess. "I tellyou I marked them both last eve, and though I seldom turn my mind tosuch follies, I saw the plain tokens of love in every look and gestureof the young springald. Nay, 'twas his countenance that put it into mymind, for I am even too good-natured--over good-natured, Susan Talbot.How now," at some sound below, springing to the little window andflinging it back, "you lazy idle wenches--what are you doing there? Ismy work to stand still while you are toying with yon vile whelp? He istangling the yarn, don't you see, thou purblind Jane Dacre, with noeyes but for ogling. There! there! Round the leg of the chair, don'tyou see!" and down flew a shoe, which made the poor dog howl, and hismistress catch him up. "Put him down! put him down this instant!Thomas! Davy! Here, hang him up, I say," cried this over good-naturedlady, interspersing her commands with a volley of sixteenth centuryBillingsgate, and ending by declaring that nothing fared well withouther, and hurrying off to pounce down on the luckless damsels who hadlet their dog play with the embroidery yarn destined to emblazon thetapestry of Chatsworth with the achievements of Juno. The good naturewas so far veritable that when she found little harm done, and hadvented her wrath in strong language and boxes on the ear, she wouldforget her sentence upon the poor little greyhound, which Mrs. JaneDacre had hastily conveyed out of sight during her transit downstairs.Susan was thus, to her great relief, released for the present, forguests came in before my Lady had fully completed her objurgations onher ladies, the hour of noon was nigh at hand, sounds in the courtbetokened the return of the huntsmen, and Susan effected her escape toher own sober old palfrey--glad that she would at least be able to takecounsel with her husband on this most inconvenient proposi
tion.

  He came out to meet her at the court door, having just dismounted, andshe knew by his face that she had not to give him the firstintelligence of the difficulty in which they stood.

  My Lord had himself spoken to him, like my Lady expecting him to beenchanted at the prospect of so good a match for hisslenderly-portioned daughter, for Dethick was a fair estate, and theBabington family, though not ennobled, fully equal to a younger branchof the Talbots. However, Richard had had a less uncomfortable taskthan his wife, since the Earl was many degrees more reasonable than theCountess. He had shown himself somewhat offended at not meeting morealacrity in the acceptance of his proposal, when Richard had objectedon account of the young gentleman's Popish proclivities; but boldlydeclared that he was quite certain that the stripling had been entirelycured.

  This point of the narrative had just been reached when it wasinterrupted by a scream, and Cicely came flying into the hall, crying,"O father, father, stop them! Humfrey and Mr. Babington! They arekilling one another."

  "Where?" exclaimed Richard, catching up his sword.

  "In the Pleasance, father! Oh, stop them! They will slay one another!They had their swords!" and as the father was already gone, she threwherself into the mother's arms, hid her face and sobbed with fright asscarce became a princess for whom swords were for the first timecrossed. "Fear not! Father will stop them," said the mother, withconfidence she could only keep up outwardly by the inward cry, "Godprotect my boy. Father will come ere they can hurt one another."

  "But how came it about?" she added, as with an arm round the tremblinggirl, she moved anxiously forward to know the issue.

  "Oh! I know not. 'Twas Humfrey fell on him. Hark!"

  "'Tis father's voice," said Susan. "Thank God! I know by the sound noharm is done! But how was it, child?"

  Cis told with more coherence now, but the tears in her eyes and colourdeepening: "I was taking in Humfrey's kerchiefs from the bleaching onthe grass, when Master Babington--he had brought me a plume ofpheasant's feathers from the hunting, and he began. O mother, is itsooth? He said my Lord had sent him."

  "That is true, my child, but you know we have no choice but to refusethee."

  "Ay, mother, and Antony knows."

  "Not thy true birth, child?"

  "Not that, but the other story. So he began to say that if I werefavourable--Mother, do men always do like that?" Hiding her faceagainst the trusty breast, "And when I drew back, and said I could notand would not hearken to such folly--"

  "That was well, dear child."

  "He would have it that I should have to hear him, and he went down onhis knee, and snatched at my hand. And therewith came a great howl ofrage like an angry lion, and Humfrey bounded right over the sweetbrierfence, and cried out, 'Off, fellow! No Papist traitor knave shallmeddle with her.' And then Antony gave him back the lie for callinghim traitor, and they drew their swords, and I ran away to call father,but oh! mother, I heard them clash!" and she shuddered again.

  "See," said Susan, as they had reached the corner of a thick screen ofyew-trees, "all is safe. There they stand, and father between themspeaking to them. No, we will not go nearer, since we know that it iswell with them. Men deal with each other better out of women'searshot. Ah, see, there they are giving one another their hands. Allis over now."

  "Humfrey stands tall, grave, and stiff! He is only doing it becausefather bids him," said Cicely. "Antony is much more willing."

  "Poor Humfrey! he knows better than Antony how vain any hope must be ofmy silly little princess," said Susan, with a sigh for her boy. "Comein, child, and set these locks in order. The hour of noon hath longbeen over, and father hath not yet dined."

  So they flitted out of sight as Richard and his son turned from theplace of encounter, the former saying, "Son Humfrey, I had deemed theea wiser man."

  "Sir, how could a man brook seeing that fellow on his knee to her? Isit not enough to be debarred from my sweet princess myself, but I mustsee her beset by a Papist and traitor, fostered and encouraged too?"

  "And thou couldst not rest secure in the utter impossibility of herbeing given to him? He is as much out of reach of her as thou art."

  "He has secured my Lord and my Lady on his side!" growled Humfrey.

  "My Lord is not an Amurath, nor my Lady either," said Richard, shortly."As long as I pass for her father I have power to dispose of her, and Iam not going to give another woman's daughter away without her consent."

  "Yet the fellow may have her ear," said Humfrey. "I know him to bepopishly inclined, and there is a web of those Romish priests all overthe island, whereof this Queen holds the strands in her fingers,captive though she be. I should not wonder if she had devised thisfellow's suit."

  "This is the very madness of jealousy, Humfrey," said his father. "Thewhole matter was, as thy mother and thy Lord have both told me, simplya device of my Lady Countess's own brain."

  "Babington took to it wondrous naturally," muttered Humfrey.

  "That may be; but as for the lady at Wingfield, her talk to our poormaid hath been all of archdukes and dukes. She is far too haughty tothink for a moment of giving her daughter to a mere Derbyshire esquire,not even of noble blood. You may trust her for that."

  This pacified Humfrey for a little while, especially as the bell wasclanging for the meal which had been unusually deferred, and he had tohurry away to remove certain marks, which were happily the result ofthe sweetbrier weapons instead of that of Babington.

  That a little blood had been shed was shown by the state of his swordpoint, but Antony had disclaimed being hurt when the master of thehouse came up, and in the heat of the rebuke the father and son hadhardly noticed that he had thrown a kerchief round his left hand ere hemoved away.

  Before dinner was over, word was brought in from the door that MasterWill Cavendish wanted to speak to Master Humfrey. The ladies' heartswere in their mouths, as it were, lest it should be to deliver acartel, and they looked to the father to interfere, but he sat still,contenting himself with saying, as his son craved license to quit theboard, "Use discretion as well as honour."

  They were glad that the next minute Humfrey came back to call hisfather to the door, where Will Cavendish sat on horseback. He had comeby desire of Babington, who had fully intended that the encountershould be kept secret, but some servant must have been aware of iteither from the garden or the park, and the Countess had got wind ofit. She had summoned Babington to her presence, before the castlebarber had finished dealing with the cut in his hand, and the messengerreported that "my Lady was in one of her raging fits," and talked ofthrowing young Humfrey into a dungeon, if not having him hung for hisinsolence.

  Babington, who had talked to his friends of a slip with hishunting-knife while disembowelling a deer, was forced to tell the factin haste to Cavendish, the nearest at hand, begging him to hurry downand advise Humfrey to set forth at once if he did not wish his journeyto be unpleasantly delayed.

  "My Lord is unwilling to cross my mother at the present," said youngCavendish with half a smile; "and though it be not likely that muchharm should come of the matter, yet if she laid hands on Humfrey at thepresent moment, there might be hindrance and vexation, so it may bewell for him to set forth, in case Tony be unable to persuade my Ladythat it is nought."

  Will Cavendish had been a friendly comrade of both Humfrey and Antonyin their boyish days, and his warning was fully to be trusted.

  "I know not why I should creep off as though I had done aught that wasevil," said Humfrey, drawing himself up.

  "Well," said Will, "my Lord is always wroth at brawling with swordsamongst us, and he might--my mother egging him on--lay you by the heelsin the strong room for a week or so. Nay, for my part, methinks 'twasa strange requital of poor Babington's suit to your sister! Had shebeen your love instead of your sister there might have been plainerexcuse, but sure you wot not of aught against Tony to warrant suchheat."

  "He was importuning her when she would have
none of him," said Humfrey,feeling the perplexity he had drawn on himself.

  "Will says well," added the father, feeling that it by all meansbehoved them all to avert inquiry into the cause of Humfrey's passion,since neither Cicely's birth nor Antony's perilous inclinations couldbe pleaded. "To be detained a week or two might hinder thy voyage. Sowe will speed thee on thy way instantly."

  "Tell me not where he halts for the night," said Cavendishsignificantly. "Fare thee well, Humfrey. I would return ere I ammissed. I trust thou wilt have made the Spaniard's ships smoke, andweighted thy pouch with his dollars, before we see thee again."

  "Fare thee well, Will, and thank thee kindly," returned Humfrey, asthey wrung each other's hands. "And tell Antony that I thank himheartily for his thought, and owe him a good turn."

  "That is well, my son," said Richard, as Cavendish rode out of thecourt. "Babington is both hot and weak-headed, and I fear me is in thetoils of the Scottish lady; but he would never do aught that he held asdisloyal by a comrade. I wish I could say the same of him anent theQueen."

  "And you will guard her from him, sir?" earnestly said Humfrey.

  "As I would from--I would have said Frenchman or Spaniard, but, poormaid, that may only be her hap, if her mother should come to her throneagain;" and as Humfrey shrugged his shoulders at the improbability,"But we must see thee off, my boy. Poor mother! this hurries theparting for her. So best, mayhap."

  It was hastily arranged that Humfrey should ride off at once, and tryto overtake a squire who had been at the festival, and had invited himto turn a little out of his road and spend a day or two at his housewhen leaving home. Humfrey had then declined, but hospitality in thosedays was elastic, and he had no doubt of a welcome. His father wouldbring Diccon and his baggage to join him there the next day.

  Thus there were only a very few minutes for adieux, and, as Richard hadfelt, this was best for all, even the anxious mother. Cicely ran aboutwith the rest in the stress of preparation, until Humfrey, hurryingupstairs, met her coming down with a packet of his lace cuffs in herhands.

  He caught the hand on the balusters, and cried, "My princess, myprincess, and art thou doing this for me?"

  "Thou hast learnt fine compliments, Humfrey," said Cis, trying to doher part with quivering lips.

  "Ah, Cis! thou knowest but too well what hath taught me no fine wordsbut plain truth. Fear me not, I know what is due to thee. Cis, wenever used to believe the tales and ballads that told of knightsworshipping princesses beyond their reach, without a hope of more thana look--not even daring to wish for more; Cis, it is very truth. Bethou where thou wilt, with whom thou wilt, there will be one ready toserve thee to the uttermost, and never ask aught--aught but suchremembrance as may befit the brother of thy childhood--"

  "Mistress Cis," screamed one of the maids, "madam is waiting for thosecuffs."

  Cis ran down, but the squeeze and kiss on the hand remained, as itwere, imprinted on it, far more than the last kiss of all, which hegave, as both knew and felt, to support his character as a brotherbefore the assembled household.