CHAPTER XXXVI.
A VENTURE.
"Mother, dear mother, do but listen to me."
"I must listen, child, when thou callest me so from your heart; but itis of no use, my poor little one. They have referred the matter to theStar Chamber, that they may settle it there with closed doors and noforms of law. Thou couldst do nothing! And could I trust thee to gowandering to London, like a maiden in a ballad, all alone?"
"Nay, madam, I should not go alone. My father, I mean Mr. Talbot,would take me."
"Come, bairnie, that is presuming overmuch on the good man's kindness."
"I do not speak without warrant, madam. I told him what I longed todo, and he said it might be my duty, and if it were so, he would notgainsay me; but that he could not let me go alone, and would go withme. And he can get access for me to the Queen. He has seen herhimself, and so has Humfrey; and Diccon is a gentleman pensioner."
"There have been ventures enough for me already," said Mary. "I willbring no more faithful heads into peril."
"Then will you not consent, mother? He will quit the castle to-morrow,and I am to see him in the morning and give him an answer. If you wouldlet me go, he would crave license to take me home, saying that I lookpaler than my wont."
"And so thou dost, child. If I could be sure of ever seeing theeagain, I should have proposed thy going home to good Mistress Susan'stendance for a little space. But it is not to be thought of. I couldnot risk thee, or any honest loving heart, on so desperate a stake asmine! I love thee, mine ain, true, leal lassie, all the more, and Ihonour him; but it may not be! Ask me no more."
Mary was here interrupted by a request from Sir Christopher Hatton forone of the many harassing interviews that beset her during the daysfollowing the trial, when judgment was withheld, according to theexpress command of the vacillating Elizabeth, and the case remitted tothe Star Chamber. Lord Burghley considered this hesitation to be theeffect of judicial blindness--so utterly had hatred and fear of thefuture shut his eyes to all sense of justice and fair play.
Cicely felt all youth's disappointment in the rejection of its grandschemes. But to her surprise at night Mary addressed her again, "Mydaughter, did that true-hearted foster-father of thine speak in sooth?"
"He never doth otherwise," returned Cicely.
"For," said her mother, "I have thought of a way of gaining thee accessto the Queen, far less perilous to him, and less likely to fail. Iwill give thee letters to M. De Chateauneuf, the French Ambassador,whom I have known in old times, with full credentials. It might be wellto have with thee those that I left with Mistress Talbot. Then he willgain thee admittance, and work for thee as one sent from France, andprotected by the rights of the Embassy. Thus, Master Richard neednever appear in the matter at all, and at any rate thou wouldst besecure. Chateauneuf would find means of sending thee abroad ifneedful."
"Oh! I would return to you, madam my mother, or wait for you in London."
"That must be as the wills above decree," said Mary sadly. "It isfolly in me, but I cannot help grasping at the one hope held out to me.There is that within me that will hope and strive to the end, though Iam using my one precious jewel to weight the line I am casting acrossthe gulf. At least they cannot do thee great harm, my good child."
The Queen sat up half the night writing letters, one to Elizabeth, oneto Chateauneuf, and another to the Duchess of Lorraine, which Cis wasto deliver in case of her being sent over to the Continent. But theQueen committed the conduct of the whole affair to M. De Chateauneuf,since she could completely trust his discretion and regard for her;and, moreover, it was possible that the face of affairs might undergosome great alteration before Cicely could reach London. Mr. Talbotmust necessarily go home first, being bound to do so by his commissionto the Earl. "And, hark thee," said the Queen, "what becomes of theyoung gallant?"
"I have not heard, madam," said Cicely, not liking the tone.
"If my desires still have any effect," said Mary, "he will stay here. Iwill not have my damosel errant squired by a youth underfive-and-twenty."
"I promised you, madam, and he wots it," said Cicely, with spirit.
"He wots it, doth he?" said the Queen, in rather a provoking voice."No, no, mignonne; with all respect to their honour and discretion, wedo not put flint and steel together, when we do not wish to kindle afire. Nay, little one, I meant not to vex thee, when thou art doingone of the noblest deeds daughter ever did for mother, and for a motherwho sent thee away from her, and whom thou hast scarce known for morethan two years!"
Cicely was sure to see her foster-father after morning prayers on theway from the chapel across the inner court. Here she was able to tellhim of the Queen's consent, over which he looked grave, having secretlypersuaded himself that Mary would think the venture too great, and nothopeful enough to be made. He could not, however, wonder that theunfortunate lady should catch at the least hope of preserving her life;and she had dragged too many down in the whirlpool to leave room forwonder that she should consent to peril her own daughter therein.Moreover, he would have the present pleasure of taking her home withhim to his Susan, and who could say what would happen in the meantime?
"Thou hast counted the cost?" he said.
"Yea, sir," Cis answered, as the young always do; adding, "the Queensaith that if we commit all to the French Ambassador, M. DeChateauneuf, who is her very good friend, he will save you from anyperil."
"Hm! I had rather be beholden to no Frenchman," muttered Richard, "butwe will see, we will see. I must now to Paulett to obtain consent totake thee with me. Thou art pale and changed enough indeed to need ablast of Hallamshire air, my poor maid."
So Master Richard betook him to the knight, a man of many charges, andmade known that finding his daughter somewhat puling and sickly, hewished having, as she told him, the consent of the Queen of Scots, totake her home with him for a time.
"You do well, Mr. Talbot," said Sir Amias. "In sooth, I have onlymarvelled that a pious and godly man like you should have consented tolet her abide so long, at her tender age, among these papistical,idolatrous, and bloodthirsty women."
"I think not that she hath taken harm," said Richard.
"I have done my poor best; I have removed the priest of Baal," said theknight; "I have caused godly ministers constantly to preach sounddoctrine in the ears of all who would hearken; and I have uplifted mytestimony whensoever it was possible. But it is not well to expose theyoung to touching the accursed thing, and this lady hath shown herselfgreatly affected to your daughter, so that she might easily be seducedfrom the truth. Yet, sir, bethink you is it well to remove the maidenfrom witnessing that which will be a warning for ever of the judgmentthat falleth on conspiracy and idolatry?"
"You deem the matter so certain?" said Richard.
"Beyond a doubt, sir. This lady will never leave these walls alive.There can be no peace for England nor safety for our blessed andgracious Queen while she lives. Her guilt is certain; and as Mr.Secretary said to me last night, he and the Lord Treasurer aredetermined that for no legal quibbles, nor scruples of mercy from ourever-pitiful Queen, shall she now escape. Her Majesty, however herwomanish heart may doubt now, will rejoice when the deed is done.Methinks I showed you the letter she did me the honour to write,thanking me for the part I took in conveying the lady suddenly toTixall."
Richard had already read that letter three times, so he avowed hisknowledge of it.
"You will not remove your son likewise?" added Sir Amias. "He hath anacquaintance with this lady's people, which is useful in one sothoroughly to be trusted; and moreover, he will not be tampered with.For, sir, I am never without dread of some attempt being made to dealwith this lady privily, in which case I should be the one to bear allthe blame. Wherefore I have made request to have another honourablegentleman joined with me in this painful wardship."
Richard had no desire to remove his son. He shared Queen Mary'sfeelings on the inexpediency of Humfrey forming part of the escort
ofthe young lady, and thought it was better for both to see as little ofone another as possible.
Sir Amias accordingly, on his morning visit of inspection, intimated tothe Queen that Mr. Talbot wished his daughter to return home with himfor the recovery of her health. He spoke as if the whole suite were athis own disposal, and Mary resented it in her dignified manner.
"The young lady hath already requested license from us," she said, "andwe have granted it. She will return when her health is fully restored."
Sir Amias had forbearance enough not to hint that unless the returnwere speedy, she would scarcely find the Queen there, and the matterwas settled. Master Richard would not depart until after dinner, whenother gentlemen were going, and this would enable Cicely to make up hermails, and there would still be time to ride a stage before dark. Herown horse was in the stables, and her goods would be bestowed in cloakbags on the saddles of the grooms who had accompanied Mr. Talbot; for,small as was the estate of Bridgefield, for safety's sake he could nothave gone on so long an expedition without a sufficient guard.
The intervening time was spent by the Queen in instructing her daughterhow to act in various contingencies. If it were possible to the FrenchAmbassador to present her as freshly come from the Soissons convent,where she was to have been reared, it would save Mr. Talbot from allrisk; but the Queen doubted whether she could support the character, soEnglish was her air, though there were Scottish and English nuns atSoissons, and still more at Louvaine and Douay, who _might_ havebrought her up.
"I cannot feign, madam," said Cicely, alarmed. "Oh, I hope I need onlyspeak truth!" and her tone sounded much more like a confession ofincapacity than a moral objection, and so it was received: "Poor child,I know thou canst not act a part, and thy return to the honest mastiffswill not further thee in it; but I have bidden Chateauneuf to do whathe can for thee--and after all the eyes will not be very critical."
If there still was time, Cicely was to endeavour first of all to obtainof Elizabeth that Mary might be brought to London to see her, and bejudged before Parliament with full means of defence. If this were nolonger possible, Cicely might attempt to expose Walsingham'scontrivance; but this would probably be too dangerous. Chateauneufmust judge. Or, as another alternative, Queen Mary gave Cicely thering already shown at the trial, and with that as her pledge, a solemnoffer was to be made on her behalf to retire into a convent in Austria,or in one of the Roman Catholic cantons of Switzerland, out of thereach of Spain and France, and there take the veil, resigning all herrights to her son. All her money had been taken away, but she toldCicely she had given orders to Chateauneuf to supply from her Frenchdowry all that might be needed for the expenses that must be incurred.
Now that the matter was becoming so real, Cicely's heart quailed alittle. Castles in the air that look heroic at the first glance wouldnot so remain did not they show themselves terrible at a nearerapproach, and the maiden wondered, whether Queen Elizabeth would bemuch more formidable than my Lady Countess in a rage!
And what would become of herself? Would she be detained in the bondagein which the poor sisters of the Grey blood had been kept? Or would hermother carry her off to these strange lands?.... It was all strange,and the very boldness of her offer, since it had been thus accepted,made her feel helpless and passive in the grasp of the powers that hersimple wish had set moving.
The letters were sewn up in the most ingenious manner in her dress byMary Seaton, in case any search should be made; but the only woman SirAmias would be able to employ in such a matter was purblind andhelpless, and they trusted much to his implicit faith in the Talbots.
There was only just time to complete her preparations before she wassummoned; and with an almost convulsive embrace from her mother, andwhispered benedictions from Jean Kennedy, she left the dreary walls ofFotheringhay.
Humfrey rode with them through the Chase. Both he and Cicely were verysilent. When the time came for parting, Cicely said, as she laid herhand in his, "Dear brother, for my sake do all thou canst for her withhonour."
"That will I," said Humfrey. "Would that I were going with thee,Cicely!"
"So would not I," she returned; "for then there would be one true heartthe less to watch over her."
"Come, daughter!" said Richard, who had engaged one of the gentlemen inconversation so as to leave them to themselves. "We must be jogging.Fare thee well, my son, till such time as thy duties permit thee tofollow us."
Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland Page 36
