3. III.
LORD ESSEX.
A mile from the city I nearly ran into the column
of dragoons, whose commander, seeing me approach,
ordered a halt. He was an officer in the uniform of a
colonel, and said, coolly,—
“You bring a flag of truce, sir. Is it for the surrender
of the city?”
I shook my head. “A missive for Lord Essex.”
“From whom?”
“From her majesty the queen.”
The officer reflected a moment. “Give me the
missive.”
“I am ordered to deliver it into the hands of Lord
Essex.”
“Lord Essex is not here present.”
“Doubtless, sir, he can be found nevertheless.”
“You refuse to deliver your credentials to myself?”
“I obey my orders.”
“Right, sir. You are a soldier. Two troopers to
escort this officer to his lordship,” he added, to a staff-officer.
Five minutes afterwards, I was again on my way,—
passing a long column of cavalry. Behind these appeared
foot-soldiers. The force was heavy.
At last the men drew rein at the foot of an eminence,
upon which I saw a group of mounted officers, and the
tall figure of Lord Essex, whom I knew by sight, was
seen in the centre of the group. I rode up to him and
saluted. He gazed at me with attention, evidently
recognized my Guardsman's uniform, and said,—
“You are from her majesty, sir?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” he said, gravely.
“I have a missive from her majesty for the hands
of your lordship.”
“Give it to me.”
He extended his hand, and I presented the queen's
letter, at sight of which I saw a cloud pass over his
brow.
“This is a wretched business!” he muttered. “I
know the contents of that paper, and I do not wish to
read it.”
His chin sunk upon his breast, and his brows were
knit together.
“Her majesty has given birth to a daughter, has she
not, sir?” he said, in a low tone.
“Yes, my lord.”
“A handsome child?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“What name does she propose to give the princess,
sir?”
“Henrietta Anne, if I do not mistake, my lord.”
Lord Essex uttered a deep sigh, and slowly opened
the letter, which he perused thoughtfully, folded up,
and placed in his breast.
“I was mistaken: this paper is merely your credentials,
sir, and her majesty asks simply a verbal
response.”
I bowed, and waited.
“I am loath to give it.”
He spoke in tones of deep depression, and I gazed
at him attentively. The nobleman and the soldier
were contending in him, fiercely.
“It is not possible,” I said, “that your lordship
can refuse the request I come to make,—namely, that
her majesty may be permitted to retire with her child
from Exeter before the place is invested? She is extremely
feeble, since the princess is but a few days old,
and the privation and excitement of a siege might be
fatal to both mother and babe.”
As I spoke, an expression of great pain came to the
face of the general.
“Cursed war!” he muttered; “why did I ever embark
in it?”
“Your lordship said—”
“That I am powerless,—utterly powerless! I can do
nothing! But now came my orders from the people
in London! The crop-eared—bah! whose fault is it
that I'm here but my own?”
His teeth were set together as he spoke.
“Return to her majesty, and say,” he added, “that
Lord Essex, if he were untrammeled, would send her a
guard of honor and his own coach to convey her
whither she would go,—that
General Essex, of the
parliamentary forces, cannot grant her request to leave
Exeter.”
“Your lordship cannot possibly—”
“Act like a ruffian? Yes, sir! I am not Lord
Essex; I am a servant of these people, and these are
the orders from my masters!”
He flirted at me, rather than presented me with, an
official-looking document which he drew from his pocket.
I glanced at it, and saw that it was an order to seize
the queen and escort her to London, where she was to
be tried by parliament for treason in levying war upon
England.
The sight of the paper filled me with indignation.
“And your lordship will not disregard this outrageous
order?”
“I cannot.”
“And yet your lordship commands here: the civilians
yonder are a poor set!”
“Sir, I am a soldier: I obey orders!” he growled.
“And her majesty will be tried for treason?”
“You see,” he said, coldly, pointing to the paper.
“And his majesty, if he be captured, will he too
be tried for the same offense,—the penalty of which is
the axe of the headsman?”
Lord Essex turned pale. “Let us terminate this
interview, sir!” he said, almost hoarsely.
“As your lordship will!” I said, unable to control
my indignation. “For my part, I know the side that,
as an English gentleman, I'll adhere to!”
A fiery glance replied to this covert insult; but Lord
Essex immediately made me a ceremonious salute.
“Each gentleman decides for himself, right or
wrong, sir,” he said, austerely. “Say to her majesty
the queen that I am pained to refuse her request, in
consequence of orders which I am not at liberty to
disobey. I am ordered to convey her to London to be
tried for treason, to which is attached the death-penalty;
and I shall probably invest Exeter before midnight.”
I looked keenly at Lord Essex. Was this a notice
to the queen to escape? I could not determine, and,
bowing, turned my horse's head to ride back.
“A moment, sir,” said Lord Essex, approaching
me. “Is her majesty in bed?”
“On her couch, my lord.”
He hesitated.
“In a condition to be moved?”
“Scarcely,” I said, guardedly.
“Because—”
And Lord Essex looked at me, leaving the sentence
unfinished. Then he saluted, turned away, and with
my escort I rode back, soon entering Exeter again.
