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

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XL.

  THE SENTENCE.

  The tragedies of the stage compress themselves into a few hours, butthe tragedies of real life are of slow and heavy march, and theheart-sickness of delay and hope and dread alike deferred is one oftheir chief trials.

  Humfrey's hurt was quite well, but as he was at once trusted by hissuperiors, and acceptable to the captive, he was employed in many ofthose lesser communications between her and her keepers, for which thetwo knights did not feel it necessary to harass her with theirpresence. His post, for half the twenty-four hours, was on guard inthe gallery outside her anteroom door; but he often knocked and wasadmitted as bearer of some message to her or her household; and equallyoften was called in to hear her requests, and sometimes he could nothelp believing because it pleased her to see him, even if there werenothing to tell her.

  Nor was there anything known until the 19th of November, when the soundof horses' feet in large numbers, and the blast of bugles, announcedthe arrival of a numerous party. When marshalled into the ordinarydining-hall, they proved to be Lord Buckhurst, a dignified-lookingnobleman, who bore a sad and grave countenance full of presage, withMr. Beale, the Clerk of the Council, and two or three other officialsand secretaries, among whom Humfrey perceived the inevitable WillCavendish.

  The two old comrades quickly sought each other out, Will observing, "Sohere you are still, Humfrey. We are like to see the end of a longstory."

  "How so?" asked Humfrey, with a thrill of horror, "is she sentenced?"

  "By the Commissioners, all excepting my Lord Zouch, and by both housesof Parliament! We are come down to announce it to her. I'll have youinto the presence-chamber if I can prevail. It will be a noteworthything to see how the daughter of a hundred kings brooks such asentence."

  "Hath no one spoken for her?" asked Humfrey, thinking at least as muchof Cicely as of the victim.

  "The King of Scots hath sent an ambassage," returned Cavendish, "butwhen I say 'tis the Master of Gray, you know what that means. KingJames may be urgent to save his mother--nay, he hath written moresharply and shrewishly than ever he did before; but as for this Gray,whatever he may say openly, we know that he has whispered to the Queen,'The dead don't bite.'"

  "The villain!"

  "That may be, so far as he himself is concerned, but the counsel iscanny, like the false Scot himself. What's this I hear, Humfrey, thatyou have been playing the champion, and getting wounded in the defence?"

  "A mere nothing," said Humfrey, opening his hand, however, to show themark. "I did but get my palm scored in hindering a villainousman-at-arms from slaying the poor lady."

  "Yea, well are thy race named Talbot!" said Cavendish. "Sturdywatch-dogs are ye all, with never a notion that sometimes it may be forthe good of all parties to look the other way."

  "If you mean that I am to stand by and see a helpless woman--"

  "Hush! my good friend," said Will, holding up his hand. "I know thybreed far too well to mean any such thing. Moreover, thy precisiangovernor, old Paulett there, hath repelled, like instigations of Satan,more hints than one that pain might be saved to one queen and publicityto the other, if he would have taken a leaf from Don Philip's book, andpermitted the lady to be dealt with secretly. Had he given an ear tothe matter six months back, it would have spared poor Antony."

  "Speak not thus, Will," said Humfrey, "or thou wilt make me believethee a worse man than thou art, only for the sake of showing me howthou art versed in state policy. Tell me, instead, if thou hast seenmy father."

  "Thy father? yea, verily, and I have a packet for thee from him. It isin my mails, and I will give it thee anon. He is come on a bootlesserrand! As long as my mother and my sister Mall are both living, hemight as well try to bring two catamounts together without hisses andscratches."

  "Where is he lying?" asked Humfrey.

  "In Shrewsbury House, after the family wont, and Gilbert makes himwelcome enough, but Mall is angered with him for not lodging hisdaughter there likewise! I tell her he is afraid lest she should gethold of the wench, and work up a fresh web of tales against this lady,like those which did so much damage before. 'Twould be rare if shemade out that Gravity himself, in the person of old Paulett, had beenentranced by her."

  "Peace with thy gibes," said Humfrey impatiently, "and tell me where mysister is."

  "Where thinkest thou? Of all strange places in the world, he hathbestowed her with Madame de Salmonnet, the wife of one of the FrenchAmbassador's following, to perfect her French, as he saith. Canst thouconceive wherefore he doth it? Hath he any marriage in view for her?Mall tried to find out, but he is secret. Tell me, Numps, what is it?"

  "If he be secret, must not I be the same?" said Humfrey, laughing.

  "Nay, thou owest me some return for all that I have told thee."

  "Marry, Will, that is more like a maiden than a statesman! But becontent, comrade, I know no more than thou what purposes there may beanent my sister's marriage," he added. "Only if thou canst give me myfather's letter, I should be beholden to thee."

  They were interrupted, however, by a summons to Humfrey, who was to goto the apartments of the Queen of Scots, to bear the information thatin the space of half an hour the Lord Buckhurst and Master Beale woulddo themselves the honour of speaking with her.

  "So," muttered Cavendish to himself as Humfrey went up the stairs,"there _is_ then some secret. I marvel what it bodes! Did not thatcrafty villain Langston utter some sort of warning which I spurned,knowing the Bridgefield trustiness and good faith? This wench hathbeen mightily favoured by the lady. I must see to it."

  Meantime Humfrey had been admitted to Queen Mary's room, where she satas usual at her needlework. "You bring me tidings, my friend," shesaid, as he bent his knee before her. "Methought I heard a fresh stirin the Castle; who is arrived?"

  "The Lord Buckhurst, so please your Grace, and Master Beale. Theycrave an audience of your Grace in half an hour's time."

  "Yea, and I can well guess wherefore," said the Queen. "Well, Fiatvoluntas tua! Buckhurst? he is kinsman of Elizabeth on the Boleynside, methinks! She would do me grace, you see, my masters, by sendingme such tidings by her cousin. They cannot hurt me! I am far pastthat! So let us have no tears, my lassies, but receive them rightroyally, as befits a message from one sovereign to another! Remember,it is not before my Lord Buckhurst and Master Beale that we sit, butbefore all posterities for evermore, who will hear of Mary Stewart andher wrongs. Tell them I am ready, sir. Nay but, my son," she added,with a very different tone of the tender woman instead of the outragedsovereign, "I see thou hast news for me. Is it of the child?"

  "Even so, madam. I wot little yet, but what I know is hopeful. She iswith Madame de Salmonnet, wife of one of the suite of the FrenchAmbassador."

  "Ah! that speaketh much," said Mary, smiling, "more than you know,young man. Salmonnet is sprung of a Scottish archer, Jockie of thesalmon net, whereof they made in France M. de Salmonnet. Chateauneufmust have owned her, and put her under the protection of the Embassy.Hast thou had a letter from thy father?"

  "I am told that one is among Will Cavendish's mails, madam, and I hopeto have it anon."

  "These men have all unawares brought with them that which may well bearme up through whatever may be coming."

  A second message arrived from Lord Buckhurst himself, to say howgrieved he was to be the bearer of heavy tidings, and to say that hewould not presume to intrude on her Majesty's presence until she wouldnotify to him that she was ready to receive him.

  "They have become courteous," said Mary. "But why should we dally? Thesooner this is over, the better."

  The gentlemen were then admitted: Lord Buckhurst grave, sad, stately,and courteous; Sir Annas Paulett, as usual, grim and wooden in hispuritanical stiffness; Sir Drew Drury keeping in the background as onegrieved; and Mr. Beale, who had already often harassed the Queenbefore, eager, forward, and peremptory, as one whose exultation couldhardly be repressed by respect for his s
uperior, Lord Buckhurst.

  Bending low before her, this nobleman craved her pardon for that whichit was his duty to execute; and having kissed her hand, in token of herpersonal forgiveness, he bade Mr. Beale read the papers.

  The Clerk of the Council stood forth almost without obeisance, till itwas absolutely compelled from him by Buckhurst. He read aloud thedetails of the judgment, that Mary had been found guilty by theCommission, of conspiracy against the kingdom, and the life of theQueen, with the sentence from the High Court of Parliament that she wasto die by being beheaded.

  Mary listened with unmoved countenance, only she stood up and madesolemn protest against the authority and power of the Commission eitherto try or condemn her. Beale was about to reply, but Lord Buckhurstchecked him, telling him it was simply his business to record theprotest; and then adding that he was charged to warn her to put awayall hopes of mercy, and to prepare for death. This, he said, was onbehalf of his Queen, who implored her to disburthen her conscience by afull confession. "It is not her work," added Buckhurst; "the sentenceis not hers, but this thing is required by her people, inasmuch as herlife can never be safe while your Grace lives, nor can her religionremain in any security."

  Mary's demeanour had hitherto been resolute. Here a brightness andlook of thankful joy came over her, as she raised her eyes to Heavenand joined her hands, saying, "I thank you, my lord; you have made itall gladness to me, by declaring me to be an instrument in the cause ofmy religion, for which, unworthy as I am, I shall rejoice to shed myblood."

  "Saint and martyr, indeed!" broke out Paulett. "That is fine! when youare dying for plotting treason and murder!"

  "Nay, sir," gently returned Mary, "I am not so presumptuous as to callmyself saint or martyr; but though you have power over my body, youhave none over my soul, nor can you prevent me from hoping that by themercy of Him who died for me, my blood and life may be accepted by Him,as offerings freely made for His Church."

  She then begged for the restoration of her Almoner De Preaux. She wastold that the request would be referred to the Queen, but that sheshould have the attendance of an English Bishop and Dean. Paulett wasso angered at the manner in which she had met the doom, that he beganto threaten her that she would be denied all that could serve to heridolatries.

  "Yea, verily," said she calmly, "I am aware that the English have neverbeen noted for mercy."

  Lord Buckhurst succeeded in getting the knight away without any morebitter replies. Humfrey and Cavendish had, of course, to leave theroom in their train, and as it was the hour of guard for the former, hehad to take up his station and wait with what patience he could untilit should please Master William to carry him the packet. He opened iteagerly, standing close beneath the little lamp that illuminated hispost, to read it: but after all, it was somewhat disappointing, for Mr.Talbot did not feel that absolute confidence in the consciences ofgentlemen-in-place which would make him certain of that of MasterCavendish, supposing any notion should arise that Cicely's presence inLondon could have any purpose connected with the prisoner.

  "To my dear son Humfrey, greeting--

  "I do you to wit that we are here safely arrived in London, though wewere forced by stress of weather to tarry seven days in Hull, at thehouse of good Master Heatherthwayte, where we received good andhospitable entertainment. The voyage was a fair one, and the oldMastiff is as brave a little vessel as ever she was wont to be; but thypoor sister lay abed all the time, and was right glad when we came intosmooth water. We have presented the letters to those whom we came toseek, and so far matters have gone with us more towardly than I hadexpected. There are those who knew Cicely's mother at her years whosay there is a strange likeness between them, and who thereforereceived her the more favourably. I am lying at present at ShrewsburyHouse, where my young Lord makes me welcome, but it hath been judgedmeet that thy sister should lodge with the good Madame de Salmonnet, alady of Scottish birth, who is wife to one of the secretaries of M. deChateauneuf, the French Ambassador, but who was bred in the convent ofSoissons. She is a virtuous and honourable lady, and hath taken chargeof thy sister while we remain in London. For the purpose for which wecame, it goeth forward, and those who should know assure me that we donot lose time here. Diccon commendeth himself to thee; he is well inhealth, and hath much improved in all his exercises. Mistress Curll islodging nigh unto the Strand, in hopes of being permitted to see herhusband; but that hath not yet been granted to her, although she isassured that he is well in health, and like ere long to be set free, aswell as Monsieur Nau.

  "We came to London the day after the Parliament had pronounced sentenceupon the Lady at Fotheringhay. I promise you there was ringing ofbells and firing of cannon, and lighting of bonfires, so that we deemedthat there must have been some great defeat of the Spaniards in the LowCountries; and when we were told it was for joy that the Parliament haddeclared the Queen of Scots guilty of death, my poor Cicely hadwell-nigh swooned to think that there could be such joy for the doom ofone poor sick lady. There hath been a petition to the Queen that thesentence may be carried out, and she hath answered in a dubious anduncertain manner, which leaves ground for hope; and the King of Scotshath written pressingly and sent the Master of Gray to speak in hismother's behalf; also M. de Chateauneuf hath both urged mercy on theQueen, and so written to France that King Henry is sending anAmbassador Extraordinary, M. de Bellievre, to intercede for her.

  "I send these presents by favour of Master Cavendish, who will tellthee more than I have here space to set down, and can assure thee thatnothing hasty is like to be done in the business on which he hath comedown with these gentlemen. And so no more at present from thy lovingfather,

  "Richard Talbot."

  Humfrey had to gather what he could from this letter, but he had noopportunity of speech with the prisoner on the remainder of that day,nor on the next, until after Lord Buckhurst and his followers had leftFotheringhay, bearing with them a long and most touching letter fromthe prisoner to Queen Elizabeth.

  On that day, Paulett worked himself up to the strange idea that it wasfor the good of the unfortunate prisoner's soul, and an act of duty tohis own sovereign, to march into the prison chamber and announce toQueen Mary that being a dead woman in the eye of the law, no royalstate could be permitted her, in token of which he commanded herservants to remove the canopy over her chair. They all flatly refusedto touch it, and the women began to cry "Out upon him," for beingcowardly enough to insult their mistress, and she calmly said, "Sir,you may do as you please. My royal state comes from God, and is notyours to give or take away. I shall die a Queen, whatever you may doby such law as robbers in a forest might use with a righteous judge."

  Intensely angered, Sir Amias came, hobbling and stumbling out to thedoor, pale with rage, and called on Talbot to come and bring his men totear down the rag of vanity in which this contumacious woman put hertrust.

  "The men are your servants, sir," said Humfrey, with a flush on hischeek and his teeth set; "I am here to guard the Queen of Scots, not toinsult her."

  "How, sirrah? Do you know to whom you speak? Have you not swornobedience to me?"

  "In all things within my commission, sir; but this is as much beyondit, as I believe it to be beyond yours."

  "Insolent, disloyal varlet! You are under ward till I can account withand discharge you. To your chamber!"

  Humfrey could but walk away, grieved that his power of bearingintelligence or alleviation to the prisoner had been forfeited, andthat he should probably not even take leave of her. Was she to be leftto all the insults that the malice of her persecutor could devise? Yetit was not exactly malice. Paulett would have guarded her life fromassassination with his own, though chiefly for his own sake, and, as hesaid, for that of "saving his poor posterity from so foul a blot;" buthe could not bear, as he told Sir Drew Drury, to see the Popish,bloodthirsty woman sit queening it so calmly; and when he tore down hercloth of state, and sat down in her presence wit
h his hat on, he didnot so much intend to pain the woman, Mary, as to express the triumphof Elizabeth and of her religion. Humfrey believed his service over,and began to occupy himself with putting his clothes together, whileconsidering whether to seek his father in London or to go home. Afterabout an hour, he was summoned to the hall, where he expected to havefound Sir Amias Paulett ready to give him his discharge. He found,however, only Sir Drew Drury, who thus accosted him--"Young man, youhad better return to your duty. Sir Amias is willing to overlook whatpassed this morning."

  "I thank you, sir, but I am not aware of having done aught to needforgiveness," said Humfrey.

  "Come, come, my fair youth, stand not on these points. 'Tis true mygood colleague hath an excess of zeal, and I could wish he could havefound it in his heart to leave the poor lady these marks of dignitythat hurt no one. I would have no hand in it, and I am glad thouwouldst not. He knoweth that he had no power to require such serviceof thee. He will say no more, and I trust that neither wilt thou; forit would not be well to change warders at this time. Another might notbe so acceptable to the poor lady, and I would fain save her all that Ican."

  Humfrey bowed, and thanked "him of milder mood," nor was any furthernotice taken of this hasty dismissal.

  When next he had to enter the Queen's apartments, the absence of allthe tokens of her royal rank was to him truly a shock, accustomed as hehad been, from his earliest childhood, to connect them with her, andknowing what their removal signified.

  Mary, who was writing, looked up as, with cap in hand, he presentedhimself on one knee, his head bowed lower than ever before, perhaps tohide the tear that had sprung to his eye at sight of her pale, patientcountenance.

  "How now, sir?" she said. "This obeisance is out of place to onealready dead in law. Don your bonnet. There is no queen here for anEnglishman."

  "Ah! madam, suffer me. My reverence cannot but be greater than ever,"faltered Humfrey from his very heart, his words lost in the kiss heprinted on the hand she granted him.

  Mary bent "her gray discrowned head," crowned in his eyes as the Queenof Sorrows, and said to Marie de Courcelles, who stood behind her, "Isit not true, ma mie, that our griefs have this make-weight, namely,that they prove to us whose are the souls whose generosity is above allprice! And what saith thy good father, my Humfrey?"

  He had not ventured on bringing the letter into the apartments, but herepeated most of the substance of it, without, however, greatly raisingthe hopes of the Queen, though she was gratified that her cause was notneglected either by her son or by her brother-in-law.

  "They, and above all my poor maid, will be comforted to have done theirutmost," she said; "but I scarcely care that they should prevail. As Ihave written to my cousin Elizabeth, I am beholden to her for ending mylong captivity, and above all for conferring on me the blessings andglories of one who dies for her faith, all unworthy as I am!" and sheclasped her hands, while a rapt expression came upon her countenance.

  Her chief desire seemed to be that neither Cicely nor her foster-fathershould run into danger on her account, and she much regretted that shehad not been able to impress upon Humfrey messages to that effectbefore he wrote in answer to his father, sending his letter byCavendish.

  "Thou wilt not write again?" she asked.

  "I doubt its being safe," said Humfrey. "I durst not speak openly evenin the scroll I sent yesterday."

  Then Mary recurred to the power which he possessed of visiting SirAndrew Melville and the Almoner, the Abbe de Preaux, who were shut upin the Fetterlock tower and court, and requested him to take a billetwhich she had written to the latter. The request came like a blow tothe young man. "With permission--" he began.

  "I tell thee," said Mary, "this concerns naught but mine own soul. Itis nothing to the State, but all and everything to me, a dying woman."

  "Ah, madam! Let me but obtain consent."

  "What! go to Paulett that he may have occasion to blaspheme my faithand insult me!" said the Queen, offended.

  "I should go to Sir Drew Drury, who is of another mould," said Humfrey--

  "But who dares not lift a finger to cross his fellow," said Mary,leaning back resignedly.

  "And this is the young gentleman's love for your Grace!" exclaimed JeanKennedy.

  "Nay, madam," said Humfrey, stung to the quick, "but I am sworn!"

  "Let him alone, Nurse Jeanie!" said Mary. "He is like the rest of theEnglish. They know not how to distinguish between the spirit and theletter! I understand it all, though I had thought for a moment that inhim there was a love for me and mine that would perceive that I couldask nothing that could damage his honour or his good faith. I--who hadalmost a mother's love and trust in him."

  "Madam," cried Humfrey, "you know I would lay down my life for you, butI cannot break my trust."

  "Your trust, fule laddie!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy. "Ane wad think theQueen speired of ye to carry a letter to Mendoza to burn and slay,instead of a bit scart of the pen to ask the good father for hisprayers, or the like! But you are all alike; ye will not stir a handto aid her poor soul."

  "Pardon me, madam," entreated Humfrey. "The matter is, not what theletter may bear, but how my oath binds me! I may not be the bearer ofaught in writing from this chamber. 'Twas the very reason I would notbring in my father's letter. Madam, say but you pardon me."

  "Of course I pardon you," returned Mary coldly. "I have so much topardon that I can well forgive the lukewarmness and precision that areso bred in your nature that you cannot help them. I pardon injuries,and I may well try to pardon disappointments. Fare you well, Mr.Talbot; may your fidelity have its reward from Sir Amias Paulett."

  Humfrey was obliged to quit the apartment, cruelly wounded, sometimeswondering whether he had really acted on a harsh selfish punctilio incutting off the dying woman from the consolations of religion, and thustaking part with the persecutors, while his heart bled for her.Sometimes it seemed to him as if he had been on the point of earningher consent to his marriage with her daughter, and had thrown it away,and at other moments a horror came over him lest he was being beguiledas poor Antony had been before him. And if he let his faith slip, howshould he meet his father again? Yet his affection for the Queenrepelled this idea like a cruel injury, while, day by day, it wasrenewed pain and grief to be treated by her with the gentlest and moststudied courtesy, but no longer as almost one of her own inner circleof friends and confidants.

  And as Sir Andrew Melville was in a few days more restored to herservice, he was far less often required to bear messages, or do littleservices in the prison apartments, and he felt himself excluded, andcut off from the intimacy that had been very sweet, and even a littlehopeful to him.