H. C. Bailey

“ You may pardon Bedingfield for swearing at him. There was long argument, while the steward laboured magnificently, and the fire was quenched. At the end, Bedingfield, with Chrysostom at his elbow, made an angry oration to the weary, dripping mob and master steward, its leader. He would hold strict search into the cause of the fire and when he found it he would spare no man, no, not one. They slunk grumbling to rest, and over the sodden courtyard and the charred wall broke a pale dawn. ”

“ Bedingfield laughed. “Madam only wants to make you a present for hauling her out of the fire.”
“I want none of her presents,” Nell muttered, and the butter suffered.
Chrysostom took his cousin by the arm. “The truth is, Harry, you have no soul, nor madam either. I will go tell her so.”
When he appeared before Elizabeth he found her again in artistic disarray; but now her glorious hair was half bound up, and the loose dress that betrayed her was of silver grey. “Ah, sir, how shall I thank you now?” she cried. “For generous daring sacrifice, for knightly prowess, for lithe mastery of wit. ”

“ Elizabeth, according to the regular order of the place, was locked in her apartments by the gatehouse. Chrysostom arrived in the courtyard and saw the flames leaping out from the rooms below hers. Through the lurid tongues of fire he saw her face white. She was at her window waving her arms, and her voice rang clear. Bedingfield ran off shouting for ladders. The mob of servants screamed folly and swayed without purpose to and fro. Only the steward had kept his head. He stood as near the flames as he dared, shouting: “Jump, madam, I pray you; jump down! 'Tis your one safety!” ”

“ Through the rest of that night and all the next day three men rode hard for London to bear these damning papers and a letter in Bedingfield's hand from Chrysostom's brain to my Lord Admiral. That honest gentleman read and was aghast. The Italian methods of politics were not yet familiar in England. He had the wit to see that the matter needed more wit than his. He sought a friend, Paget, an old diplomatist, suspected by no one of friendship for Elizabeth or any other human soul, but bred in the tradition of Henry VIII. that England must admit no foreign rule. He expected sane help. ”

“ Pity it is, for there's wit and goodwill in him; but he is properly mad.”
A scurry of hoofs and the plump piebald horse thrust in between them as its rider shouted: “You'll have need of a madman at Woodstock.”
Sir Henry lifted a humorous eyebrow at Elizabeth. “Two of a trade will never agree. But look you, Chrys, there must be strict rule at Woodstock, and no mercy for any follies. Go your ways, and leave us to ours.”
“Mercy! I defy any man to be merciful to me.” Chrysostom turned to Elizabeth. ”

“ Cannot a woman die unless she is executed?”
“The devil has furnished Madam Elizabeth with excellent good health,” quoth Renard.
Philip smoothed down his yellow moustache and beard. “It is our duty to combat the devil,” he said, and looked hard at Renard, “with all the weapons that God has given us.”
But Renard was diplomatically dull. “For my part, sir, I know no weapon but prayer. On your Majesty's order I will pray for her death zealously.”
Philip's prominent, cold, grey eyes dilated. “Prayer shall not suffice. Prayer without works is null.” ”

“ Yet the more I look at you, the less I like you. There's what every man ought to give a woman—a riddle; being tit for her everlasting tat. Now I'll ride on, to enjoy the new taste of a woman riding after me.” He shot ahead, lank and long on his plump piebald with huge saddle-bags pounding its flanks.
Elizabeth turned to Bedingfield to laugh. “I think, sir, we are not like to be dull at Woodstock.” ”

“ Wotton is a priest, who did not care to own himself a priest because he came to ask you if you would kindly get Madam Elizabeth murdered. Whereat, like a poor sane fool, you bade him to the devil and he is gone.”
Bedingfield, who recognised nothing in this lucid explanation, demanded another and heard it, and yet another and was unconvinced.
Chrysostom yawned at him. “You are impossibly and incredibly sane. Therefore I think life will be amusing at Woodstock. ”

“ She must needs know all about it, and when I tell her there is nought to tell she racks me with questions.”
“Nay, when a poor soul hath all but died, she may well desire to know why she hath not. Tell her plain truth—that master steward was a knave who planned her murder—and for the rest bid her trust God and me.”
“Faith she asks for you all the time,” Bedingfield admitted.
“Tell her”—Chrysostom turned back to his dairymaid—“tell her that I am at my devotions.” But he found the big woman more resolutely impregnable than ever. ”

“ Philip, who was coward enough by nature, and in a land where everyone but his wife hated him had much excuse for being a coward, showed agitation.
“We come to advise your Majesty of action on the part of your ambassador, Master Simon Renard, which must expose you to instant daily peril.”
“You are very loyal, gentlemen. Speak out, I pray you.” Philip's loose under-lip was twitching.
“It hath been noised abroad that the ambassador of Spain was hiring men to murder Madam Elizabeth. This the common people bear so hard that they talk traitorous threats against your Majesty's life.” ”

“ Her face changed and grew hard and scornful. “Want nothing—is that a man's creed? Bethink you, sir, there will come a time when nothing in England of honour or power will be too much for me to give such a man as you.”
“I will remember to pity you, madam, as I sit beside my fire with my onion. Have I leave to go?”
“Back to the dairy?” she sneered.
Chrysostom bowed low, and back to the dairy he went. There Nell was busy still; she looked up an instant as he came in, and then made herself busier. ”

“ Bedingfield pulled his horse across the road. “You can tire yourself behind the hedge,” he growled.
“Do you take me for a gipsy girl, sir?” she said fiercely.
“Get a woman to a mirror and the fiend knows when you may get her away; and we must get to Woodstock to-night. So, madam, behind the hedge or ride on. It's no matter. You are more than comely enough for a man's undoing with your hair undone.”
“'For whom do you bind your tawny tresses, my Pyrrha, jewelled with simplicity?'” ”

“ Bedingfield nodded. Chrysostom broke in, “By my advice, Sir Henry, you'll give Madam Elizabeth no love tokens from France. Let the peaches go to the serving men. Here, good fellow”; he tossed one to the steward, whose offended dignity let it fall and smash on the floor. “Nay, no matter, here is another;” he thrust it upon the steward, who recoiled. ”

“ You will also remark, my lord, that there is no enemy less dangerous than a very careful man. If Master Renard had not made so many plans for his rascals they might have succeeded. It's the worst thing in the world to see too far.”
The Admiral, who was in no danger of that kind, admired him excessively.
But at Woodstock the affair was not so smoothly finished. On the day after the steward met his end Chrysostom was in the dairy labouring to make terms with an obdurate and very busy maid, when he was surprised by Bedingfield, who was harassed and hot. ”

“ With the men-at-arms close about her she was borne to the palace in the park. There she found some few of her servants waiting her. If she were permitted servants again it was a good omen. But when she saw them she hid her face and made her bosom heave. “Good friends, farewell,” she sobbed out, “farewell. Pray for me. I feel I am borne here to be slain.” ”

“ A prey to such apprehensions, he could not feel much love for the haggard woman who flung herself upon him. He had neither the brains nor the kindliness to pretend love. The man who was to redeem all the years of her hungry misery proved himself nothing better than an animal of callous craft. ”

“ The good man is innocent as death,” said Chrysostom.
“Ay, he'll always be innocent. That is what makes me rage,” Bedingfield growled.
Chrysostom wrestled with him again. “To drive the varlet out is nought. We should have all our trouble again. I want to strike the palsy into them that sent him, the most high and mighty Prince Philip of Spain”—such was the burden of his speech, and Bedingfield knew his world enough to see reason in it. So they waited still.
In the afternoon Elizabeth sent a woman to pray Mr. ”

“ The man resisted, when up came Bedingfield's brisk step, and he cried: “What, Chrysostom! Well met, man! Here's Mr. Wotton, of Norfolk, an old friend of Sir Gilbert Trench, to dine with us. He is a great traveller, so you may make a match with him. My cousin Chrysostom Bagpuize, Mr. Wotton.”
They came into the light of the hall and bowed to each other. Mr. Wotton, a little dark man, was all smiles. “Forgive a shy man's surprise, sir. ”