University of Virginia Library

4. IV.
THE FATE OF A QUEEN.

The result of my mission showed that her majesty
could expect no favor from Lord Essex; and preparations
were begun with a view to her escape.

There was no choice but to leave the babe behind;
and it was long before her majesty could be brought to
this cruel resolution.

“My poor child!” she sobbed, with tears streaming
from her eyes, “how can I leave you,—perhaps for
months,—perhaps for years? Oh, I cannot, cannot!”

She hugged the baby to her bosom, with passionate
sobs, and covered its small face with kisses.

“It breaks my heart to leave you!” she sobbed; and
then she began to prattle baby-talk to it, holding it
tightly to her bosom, and looking at the little round
face through her tears.

There was no alternative, however. The child could
not possibly accompany her on the arduous journey
she must make. And that attempt to escape was a dire
necessity. Once captured and taken to London, her
fate would decide the fate of the whole conflict. With
his queen in the hands of her relentless enemies, the
king would yield his crown rather than see her blood
flow. She must escape,—leaving her child, against
whom no order of seizure had been issued. Perhaps a
kind Providence would soon enable her to secure possession

again of the infant; and meanwhile the ladies
of her suite left with the princess would tenderly care
for her.

Night came, and the queen had formed her resolution.
She would take one cavalier, one lady of her
suite, and her confessor, and steal forth on foot. All
her preparations were rapidly made. Her money and
jewels were placed in a casket; the whole party were
disguised in plain clothes; and, remembering Lord
Essex's intimation that the place would be invested
before midnight, I hurried the arrangements for the
escape. In spite of everything, however, it was nearly
daylight before the party left Bedford House. I was
witness of the parting between her majesty and her
child. I cannot dwell upon it!—'twas agonizing. With
a burst of tears, she at length tore herself away, leaving
the baby in charge of Lady Morton and Frances Villiers,
and, leaning upon my arm, for I had been selected
to accompany her majesty, went forth, a lonely fugitive,
—worse still, a poor mother without her babe.

We passed the city gates, which were guarded by a
sentinel. He permitted us to pass, regarding us, in
our plain clothes, as country-people. Already in the
east a faint streak of dawn was seen; and at every
moment, as we hurried on, I expected to encounter
some part of the hostile force. As yet none appeared.
Had Lord Essex delayed his advance for many hours
after the time announced by him,—“before midnight”?
I like to think so.

We pressed on. The light in the east grew brighter.
All at once a dull sound issued from beyond a clump of
woods which we were traversing, and I said, quickly,—

“That is the enemy, your majesty! We must seek
some place of concealment.”

“Oh, very gladly!” the queen murmured; “my
strength is wellnigh exhausted.”

I saw a hut in the wood, not far from the road. The
windows had been torn from their hinges, and the
desolate appearance of the place indicated that it was
uninhabited.

“Here is a hiding-place, your majesty,” I said;
“lean your full weight upon my arm, and endeavor to
hasten.”

The queen panted, and I could feel her leaning
heavily upon my arm. She clung to me, almost exhausted,
and her head half fell upon my shoulder.

“Oh, I cannot go farther!” she murmured; “my
strength is quite exhausted. Save yourself!—go, leave
me! I will die here.”

I drew her on rapidly.

“Come, your majesty!” I said; “here is the hut.”

“I can go no farther.”

“Then I at least will die with you.”

“No, no! I will try—”

And she tottered on. The gleam of arms was already
visible through the woods, and I heard the close tramp
of the soldiery.

“A few more steps, and we are saved!” I said.

The queen went on with faltering steps, leaning
heavily upon me, and we all reached the hut. As we
entered it, the head of the enemy's column emerged
from a bend in the woods. Had they discovered us?
I knew not; but there was the chance of having eluded
their observation. The hut was empty, save that a pile

of straw lay in one corner. In this I speedily made
an opening, begged her majesty to lie down, and covered
her with the straw. The maid of honor and father
confessor rapidly concealed themselves in the same
manner; and, lastly, I made myself a burrow beside
her majesty, and hastily covered my person, leaving
only a loophole to look through: then we lay still.

I had scarce concealed myself, when the enemy's
column began to pass within a few yards of the hut.
They were burly, begrimed, close-cropped pikemen,
who uttered rough jests to each other as they tramped
on by the hut; and many of them turned their heads
and looked in, as they passed.

Suddenly the talk of some of the men attracted my
attention; and I listened with a sinking heart.

“We are going to catch the Canaanitess at last!”
said one, with a laugh.

“The Jezebel!” said another. “It was she who
brought arms and money from over seas to help the
malignants!”

“We will have her before night,” said a third.
“Parliament has offered fifty thousand crowns for her
head. She'll be in London soon, to be tried for
treason; and then hey for the fine sight on Tower
Hill! The axe is sharpened already, and Gregory
Brandon will make short work of her, the painted
French —!”

Oaths, imprecations, and ribald jests finished the
sentence, which was only a specimen of their talk.
The queen lay perfectly still. The column tramped
on. The day broadened; the hours passed on. Still
the army continued to defile by, no doubt slowly investing

the city, in order to shut in the hoped-for
prey.

It was not until night that the troops ceased to pass.
I then cautiously emerged from my place of concealment,
and, in a low voice, inquired of her majesty how
she felt.

“Oh, so weary!” she murmured; “but, thank God,
we have not been discovered.”

“The enemy have passed on, your majesty.”

“Doubtless Exeter is invested.”

“Yes, madam.”

I could hear the queen weeping quietly; then there
came in a murmur, interrupted by a sob, “My poor
babe!”

“Do not grieve for the princess, your majesty,” I
said: “she is quite safe, and will not be molested.
And now I will go reconnoitre.”

The result was discouraging. The vicinity was filled
with rabble followers of the army, whose bivouac-fires
sparkled in wood and field. More than once dusky
figures passed near the hut; and finally I was compelled
to hastily re-enter my place of concealment.
There, in the pile of straw, the queen and all of us lay
until the next evening,—without food, surrounded by
the enemy,—not daring to move. I have often thought
since of that terrible time, vainly asking myself how
this poor mother, just risen from her sick-bed, sustained
that ordeal of fasting. It remains incomprehensible.
Was it the fever of excitement which bore her up?

At length the welcome shades of night came, and the
vicinity of the hut seemed free at last of enemies. I
assisted the queen from her place of concealment, and

summoned the rest of the party. Their appearance
was almost comic. The worthy priest was covered
with straw, and the fair maid of honor looked utterly
woe-begone.

There was no time now to lose. The queen's destination
was Plymouth, where she hoped to find a
harbor of refuge; and, tottering on, she managed to
proceed, with the support of my arm, over the road
trampled to a quagmire by the horses of the army-wagons.
At an humble house I managed to secure
some food for the party; we then hastened on as
rapidly as the queen's exhausted condition would permit;
and thus passed the long hours of the night. Towards
morning we found ourselves in Dartmoor Forest;
here another deserted hut gave us shelter, and, to our
great satisfaction, several ladies and gentlemen of the
queen's suite, who had escaped in disguise by different
gates of Exeter, joined her, and cheered her by intelligence
of her babe's well-doing.

Towards evening we ventured forth again, determining
to run the risk of encountering scouting-parties.
We had scarce started, however, when the tramp of
hoofs was heard behind us, and through the twilight a
horseman was seen coming on at full gallop.

I drew my rapier, and turned to meet the new-comer,
resolved to supply her majesty with a horse.

“Halt!” I ordered, as he drew near; but the rider
came on at full speed. I presented my weapon at the
animal's throat and prepared to seize the bridle, when
suddenly I recognized the dwarf Geoffrey Hudson.

“Ho! ho!” I said; “'tis you, then!”

“With a horse for her majesty,” said the pigmy,

leaping to the ground. “I dismounted a six-footer
with a bullet to procure it.”

And, walking gravely with the bridle of the tall animal
thrown over his arm, the pigmy approached the
queen, made her a formal salute, and said,—

“I beg your majesty to accept my horse: my cloak
will serve your majesty for a cushion.”

He threw the right-hand stirrup over the saddle,
spread his velvet cloak—a mere baby garment—over
all, and, holding the bridle for the queen to mount,
made another low salute.

“You are a faithful friend, Geoffrey,” said the
queen, smiling sadly; “and indeed I am exhausted.”

I hastened to assist her majesty to mount, and she
uttered a sigh of relief. The poor weary foot in its
half-worn slipper was thrust into the stirrup, I took
my place beside her majesty's rein, and then the whole
party advanced rapidly through the gloomy Dartmoor
Forest towards Plymouth.

It was a strange and silent march, and a strange
party. A queen and a bevy of noble young ladies, in
rough clothing, worn and dusty; gentlemen, once
ornaments of the court, in the garb of plowmen;
and in front of all, striding on with grave dignity, a
pigmy being,—the dwarf,—whose appearance was that
of a babe, save that at his side he wore a good sharp
sword.

We reached the vicinity of Plymouth, but there discovered
that the place was dangerously favorable to
parliament. It was necessary to proceed still farther,
in the direction of Falmouth; and, emerging from a
wood, we perceived a large castle crowning a promontory.

A countryman passed at the moment, gazing
curiously at our party.

“What castle is that?” I said.

“Pendennis,” was the brief response. A second question
drew forth the information that a gentleman of
the royal party commanded at the castle. We hastened
on joyfully, were received with enthusiasm upon announcing
ourselves, and at last her majesty was in a
place of refuge.

“The news from Exeter, sir?” she said hastily to
the officer commanding.

“It is regularly invested by Lord Essex, your majesty;
but his majesty the king is said to be advancing
by forced marches to relieve the place.”

As he spoke, the officer looked curiously forth.

“What is the matter?” the queen inquired, with
sudden agitation.

“A courier, your majesty, from the way he rides.”

And, soliciting permission to leave the apartment, the
officer went to meet the man. In fifteen minutes he
returned, bearing a dispatch.

“For your majesty,” he said, presenting it with a
bow.

“Is it possible? How was my presence here discovered?”

“The courier entered Exeter just as the enemy approached
the place, and, discovering from some one of
your majesty's suite that you had left the city to go
westward, followed you, heard of you by the way, and
has reached you with his majesty's missive.”

“His majesty!” cried the queen; and she hastened
to open the letter.

As she read it, her pale face flushed with happiness;
then she turned pale, and let the letter fall in her lap.

“Oh, I cannot! I cannot!” she exclaimed.

As she uttered these words, her eyes encountered my
own.

“He commands me to sail for France!—to leave
England!—him!—my babe! Oh, no! no! I cannot!
I will not!”

And the queen began to tremble, her eyes filling
with tears. Brushing them away with one of her
thin hands, she rose and went to the chamber prepared
for her. An hour afterwards she summoned me to her
presence, and said, in a broken voice,—

“I sail for France to-morrow,—there is a ship in
Falmouth harbor, sent by my son, the Prince of
Orange.—His majesty orders me to go,—mark me,
orders me to go! I dare not disobey him!—My heart
is breaking!—Oh, my child! my child! my poor,
poor little deserted babe! I will not! Oh, no! no!
I cannot! Who would ever think me aught but a
wretched, heartless mother! But my husband—he
commands me, saying in that letter there that my capture
loses him his crown.”

The poor queen rose, wildly clasping her hands.

“But to leave my child! my little one but a few
days old!—my little babe that looks at me already
laughing from her eyes, as though she loved me even
now! Oh, what can I do?—My heart is broken!—I
can never leave her;—but the king,—his crown—I
will—obey my husband!”

The queen tottered, and I caught her in my arms as
she was falling.