"Indeed, sir," I broke in, hoping by a little boldness to cover my confusion the better, "there was no surprise but this same gad-about daughter of yours. It was through no fault of his, for none but I did wring from Captain Royston that offer of alliance he now seems minded to repent."
"Be silent, child," said my father; "Captain Royston stands in need of no champion with me." Whereat I was abashed to a blushing hotter than before. "My lad," said Sir Michael, "I have twofold reason to be glad. It would go hard with me to refuse the man who has done for my name what you have done, even were he not the husband I have this many a day desired for my child. And, if we cannot put you right with the Prince, we must together endure. But I hope for better things." And with these words my father drew me to him, and put my hand in that of Captain Royston.
There is no need to rehearse all that was said and felt on this occasion of my betrothal. There was among us regard so reverent, friendship so strong, and acquaintance so well tested of time, that the dark shadow hanging over could not, even while it chastened, in any way jar with nor distort the joy of the two who saw the future each in the other's countenance; nor of him that saw in the faces of us both a vision of the past that was ever green and poignant in the young heart of the old man.
And as I left them to visit Lady Mary, now too long neglected, my father told me that I had gained a husband such as is not had every day.
So I went to my lady's door, and there, very proud in the thought that out of all the world Captain Royston had chosen me, I loitered a little; for I hoped that my cheeks would presently lose something of the telltale color that still seemed to burn in them. And after I entered her chamber the time for a while went so exceedingly heavily that I think it but charity to take my reader elsewhere.
Sir Michael and Captain Royston were now for a space engaged in discussion of the future. But, as they neither knew that Philip, in the obstinacy of his opinion, had escaped them, nor that events now in preparation should very shortly change the complexion of the whole matter, their animadversions and reflections upon this occasion are become of little moment.
Now my father, on his coming which did so mightily abash me, was carrying under his arm in its sheath the sword which, in its day and his, had been so terrible to many a man of the Parliament's forces. It was indeed many years that he had not worn steel at his side; but it was ever a custom with him, upon any occasion of state, danger, or solemnity, to fetch with him in the morning this sword from his chamber. More than once or twice, when I was a little maid with a conscience not seldom ill at ease, has the sight of that honorable blade, tucked slantwise beneath his arm as he painfully descended the great stair of a morning, driven me to hasty repentance and confession of yesterday's prank or peccadillo.
My father, then proposing that they should take the air a little, since the sun continued bravely to shine, remarked, as he laid this sword upon his chair by the hearth, that his companion had but an empty scabbard dangling at his sword-belt. To Sir Michael's civil offer of his own good weapon to replace that so unhappily lost, Ned replied that he thanked him, but would make shift for a while with the scabbard, having a mind to fill it again with the only blade that fitted it, if haply it might be done. And as he spoke his face was suffused with a flush of deep crimson; the only blush, my father said, that he had ever seen on the lad's goodly countenance.
And so they walked a turn in the park, amongst the trees and the deer, Sir Michael supported, until a pleasant bench was reached, by an arm that is, I have found, very good and comfortable to lean upon; where I, having from my lady's window seen them pass, made shift after a little to join them. Ned rose to meet me, and I was glad to see the shadow driven from his face by the smile of his welcome.
"My lady is very instant and pressing that you should go to her," I said, as I seized in both mine the hand he stretched to me.
"What, what!" says my father merrily. "Was all this bird-like haste of swooping down upon us but to drive the man again from your side? 'T is early days, little Phil—early days!"
"Indeed, sir," I replied, panting a little yet for the speed I had used, "I would not have the man leave me, and so ran to husband the minutes with him. Nor I would not have him go to Madam Royston, who will, without doubt, very quickly draw from him our morning's doings."
"And wherefore should she not know them?" said Ned, smiling gently on me the while he still clung to my hand, as finding comfort in the touch of it.
"Because," said I, "we have trouble enough, and she will surely make more when she knows. 'T is now three years past that she told me I must look for no such greatness as to be your—" and there my boldness had an end.
"Is it indeed as you say?" cried poor Ned; and his eyes went in question from mine to Sir Michael's.
And then that little devil of mischief was in me again.
"I vow 't is very true," I said. "Nor I do not quarrel at that. But in this same matter she had a promise of me, that—that——"
"What promise was it?" he asked, in some distress. "I do hope it was nothing foolish, nor hard to keep."
"I had almost forgot it," I answered, lingering over my words, "but now I do perceive I have to the letter kept it. Yet indeed, dear Ned, it was for some hours hard to observe that pledge, for I did promise her that I would wait until I was asked." And, if my jest was of more boldness than wit, the laughter that greeted it, being compounded of love, merriment, and confidence, lacked nothing of the finest quality.
Conversation more sober ensuing, it appeared that Ned, who already, before he broke his fast, had visited her, was neither now willing to leave me, nor, with the present load of care upon him, to submit again so soon to the searching scrutiny of his mother's eyes a countenance that was, he well knew, of a very treacherous honesty. For, if he saw little need to conceal our betrothal from her, he had no mind she should get wind of his disfavor with His Highness of Orange. Whereupon my father, who seemed, indeed, to preside at the feast of our joy with a tenderness almost feminine, undertook an embassage to my Lady Mary, hoping, he said, by discovery of the betrothal, to close her eyes for a while to all other troubles.
He stoutly refused every offer of assistance to his walking, saying it were best with all the pains of a penitent to approach so awful a shrine; and so, cheerily waving one hand and leaning with the other upon his stick, made his way limping to the house.
It was not long after his leaving us that, although deep in discussion of matters vastly entertaining at least to those engaged, I heard the rapid approach of a horse, of which, with his rider, I very soon had a glimpse as they passed the open space between the last trees of the avenue and the southeastern corner of the house.
Now, while Ned spoke many things most sweet to hear, and I, though finding my power of words strangely contracted since my father's leaving us, now and again made shift to answer him; and while he was about opening that question, to this day not with conclusion to be answered, of when first each did begin to love the other, some part of me was all the time with secret clamor asking who this mounted visitor should be. What if he were from the Prince? And so, though I heard most of his words, and held them all dear, I was at length in such a fever of desire to know more of what was toward within doors, that I told Ned my presence was needed in the house, as much in his own interest as of the visitor, and my father that must entertain him. And I would not let him conduct me, for I wished (though to him I said nothing of this), in case of news, ill or good, in the matter of his standing with His Highness, to know it first myself; so begged him where he was to await me a while, and left him, I doubt not, in much amaze at the contradictions of the feminine nature. At least it was so that I was fain to hope he explained a behavior that may well have appeared whimsical in me; having not infrequently observed that this is with some of our masters a means much favored to avoid the pains of understanding our vagaries even the most reasonable.
Sir Michael, being admitted to Lady Mary's presence, had come no nearer his purpose than some prefatory compliments and good wishes, when he was hastily called away to meet a gentleman that was come on urgent business from His Highness of Orange. Repairing at once to the great hall, he found before him M. de Rondiniacque, just dismounted and entered, looking with a wryness of countenance ill-concealed upon the tankard of ale held out to him by little Prue.
Perceiving his host, the French officer politely waved aside the refreshment, and bowed to Sir Michael with great reverence and all the grace of the Paris manner. Now his name, as was but natural, when it reached my father's ears, was become twisted out of all shape.
"You are welcome," says Sir Michael, returning his obeisance. "I address, I believe, M. le Lieutenant—" and there stuck.
"Jean-Marie Godemar de Rondiniacque, at your service," replied that gentleman. "My poor name, Sir Michael, has great terror for unwonted tongues!"
"'T is then a fit companion to your sword, M. de Rondiniacque," says Sir Michael, in the older fashion of courtly compliment.
M. de Rondiniacque bowed again. "It is well if they agree, sir," he said, "for they are my whole estate."
"I can wish you, M. de Rondiniacque, no better," replied my father. "You come, I believe, from His Highness of Orange."
And M. de Rondiniacque, saying that he had indeed that honor, presented a letter from the Prince, in which it was set forth that His Highness, being in the neighborhood, was fain to do himself the pleasure of a visit, of necessity short, to so distinguished a soldier and gentleman, and so stanch a supporter of that cause which the Prince had made his own, as Sir Michael Drayton; and would not in his coming lag far behind the bearer of the letter.
Having read, Sir Michael was at once for calling out his little company of armed men and putting himself at their head, in order to meeting His Highness in the village, and escorting him to the house, but M. de Rondiniacque very respectfully opposed this course, saying that His Highness was particular in his instructions that Sir Michael's age and infirmities should be disturbed by no pomp nor ceremony of reception.
"His Highness does me great honor," said Sir Michael.
"His Highness is little likely to forget," replied M. de Rondiniacque, "that, in an hour when he almost despaired of that help and countenance he was led to look for on his coming into England from gentlemen of condition, Sir Michael Drayton was the first to come forward and set a noble pattern to the rest. There are, moreover, other matters, I believe, in which the Prince holds himself your debtor, sir. But of these, being most curiously entangled with some of another sort, I am not to speak; being straitly enjoined to leave them for your meeting with His Highness."
Now these words did mightily please my father, filling him with hope by his own influence and arguments of setting all things right between Captain Royston and the Prince of Orange. So, most courteously praying M. de Rondiniacque that until His Highness's arrival he would consider the house his own, begging excuse of his absence on the ground of fit preparation to be made for the Prince, and bidding Prudence attend the gentleman's wants, he took himself off to find Philip, and with him concert a plan of action.
Alone with Prue, M. de Rondiniacque was not long in marking, according to his habit, the dainty person and pretty face of her that waited upon him. Now Prudence was never slow to observe when she had made a conquest, however slight, and soon responded to his flattery by bringing him in a flagon something better than the ale she had observed him to look upon so sourly.
"Perhaps, sir," says Prue, "being out of France, you will have more thirst for good Burgundy than for our ale."
"Pour it to me yourself, fair Hebe," cried De Rondiniacque; and as she obeyed he smiled upon her freely, and twisted in very gallant fashion the little black mustachios that adorned his lip. "Nay," he continued: "but you must put those pretty lips to the cup before I drink."
"Oh! la, no, sir!" cries Prue; "indeed I could n't," and straightway sipped, making, I doubt not, as she cried "I' fecks, 't is good!" a little grimace of satisfaction, with lips pursed up, as I have seen her often, like a bird uplifting his bill in dumb thanksgiving to the clouds for water in a thirsty land. Indeed, M. de Rondiniacque has told me, in these days of nearer acquaintance, that things had fallen far otherwise than they did but for the pretty coquetry of Prudence and his own too inflammable temper.
If the wine was red, he remarked, her lips were no less rich in color; which led him incontinently to swear the wine was but the second refreshment for his tasting; and if her coyness persuaded him to change the order of succession, a great draught of that generous wine of Burgundy did by no means lessen his desire to taste the red velvet of her now pouting lips.
And so it was that I, nearing the door, was by a scream from my handmaid drawn with such haste into the hall that I found her in the arms of M. de Rondiniacque, whose mouth was pressed with much force and no little enjoyment to the lips he had of late compared with the wine.
At once recognizing the gallant officer for my friend of yesterday, I wished indeed that I had stayed with Ned; but in the brief time spent by Prudence in freeing herself (for she had immediately seen me), and by M. de Rondiniacque in perceiving me, and letting her free, I had called to my assistance all that dignity and state of bearing which is seldom far to seek by the woman, however young and unversed in the world, who has faith in her gown and her cause.
"Prudence!" I cried, standing half-way between them and the door, and speaking with great severity, while she, red as fire, fumbled piteously with her apron, and the gentleman sought to cover the foolishness of his face with the hand that pulled at the hair upon his upper lip; "Prudence, what means this noise and outcry? Who are you, sir?"
"A poor gentleman of France, mistress," he replied, "but now arrived with word of the coming of His Highness of Orange."
"And does that good news fetch cries for help from my serving-woman?" I demanded, bending my brows in a frown that I would have had very awful.
"Nay, be not so moved, fair mistress," said M. de Rondiniacque, in a voice very gentle and soothing. "The outcry was for another matter, and, foi de gentilhomme! the fault was mine alone. It was but for—for a kiss that I did give the maid in jest."
"Such jests, good sir, are fitter for the camp," I answered, a little relaxing my sternness. Then, observing that he began with more intentness to regard me, I sent Prudence at once from the hall. When she was gone, I prayed him, with a courtesy very frigid, to let me know, ere I left him, if there were aught in which I could serve him, or provide for his comfort, ending, as I thought very artfully, with, "M. de—de—" as if I knew not his name.
"My name is De Rondiniacque," he said, smiling on me with an expression of much cunning. "I do perceive that you are at least aware of my claim to noble family. One thing, madam, there is, in which you can oblige me,—to tell me, I mean, where I have before encountered you."
"I cry you mercy, sir," I said, "for I know not what you mean." For somehow I had little mind to discuss with him the affair of last night, and was abashed, moreover, at the thought of how I had then appeared. So I spoke with a great haughtiness and disdain, and made to leave him.
But he came quickly between me and the door, and—"Mon Dieu!" he cried, "'t is the pretty boy of yesterday!"
"You grow in mystery, M. de Rondiniacque," I said. "Prithee, let me pass!"
"Nay, nay," he answered, "this loftiness shall not bugbear me, pretty one. Thou dost know thy way to a camp and out again as well as another. Faith, I did ponder wherefore those bright eyes did draw me so."
"If you continue these matters with me, sir, I must leave you," I cried, and so made attempt to pass him.
But he seized me gently by the arm. "You shall not so," he exclaimed. "Nay, do not fear I will hurt you. I do not handle a woman as I grasped that ruffling youth. How fare the pretty wrists?"
My anger here prevailing over my prudence, I declared roundly that I would take these injuries to those that should exact account of them. Whereupon he seized me very firmly by the hand, so that I could not withdraw it.
"And tell them, too," he said, "of last night's masquerade. I will not be denied. Your secret is safe with me. Do I not know? Have I not many such in keeping? But none, I swear, for so lovely a partner in guilt. But it must be a bargain between us." And as I struggled to free my hand he wound his arm about my waist, holding me with a wonderful gentleness of strength. "Nay, do not fret," he went on, "I will not hurt you, and the bargain is soon struck. A tender glance of your eye will pay for much, as I doubt not you have been told before. Come, strife is folly with those that love us; and verily you are so beautiful that I love you already. What! still stubborn?"
"Loose me," I panted, now mad with rage and struggling.
"I vow," said he, "I am beside myself with love of you. Oh, why so easy but one day past, and now so proud?"
"I will call," said I, drawing breath for a loud cry.
"And not twice," said a harsh voice from the door, whither turning my eyes I beheld Edward Royston. He had followed me as I my father, and, even as I, was arrived in a moment for M. de Rondiniacque most unhappy. To prove this, the mere sight of his countenance was enough; I had often seen it stern, but never before so terrible.
Now, upon my entrance some few minutes before, M. de Rondiniacque had very promptly and civilly loosed his hold of little Prue; but, whether because he considered he now held a nobler prey, or because he would grant to the presence of a woman what he must refuse to the dictation of a man, certain it is that this time intrusion brought no release. With his eyes fixed upon my captor Captain Royston strode slowly up the hall till close upon us; then, pointing with his finger to M. de Rondiniacque's hand that was still about my waist: "You will need that hand for your sword, Lieutenant de Rondiniacque," he said. "Do you not take my meaning? This, at least, is as French as it is English." And with that he struck him across the face with the glove he carried in his hand.
And then at length I was free, and quickly out of reach of my persecutor. The Frenchman stepped back, and drew slowly and with seeming reluctance; astonished no more by the blow than by this new complexion put upon the matter. I marked, moreover, with a great pain of compassion in me, how poor Ned's hand went also to his side, to find but the scabbard; and to me that watched his face the while it was plain the emptiness of that sheath did not a little exacerbate the bitterness of his spirits; so that I fell into a great fear of what he should do.
Finding, then, that he had no sword, Ned went, still with the same awful and deliberate calmness, to Sir Michael's great chair by the hearth, and brought thence naked the sword my father had offered a while since for his use. But, as the two men faced each other, M. de Rondiniacque lowered his point to the floor.
"Royston," he said with much gentleness, "I would not hurt you."
"You had best try," replied his opponent, "for I shall kill you else."
"I will explain the matter," said De Rondiniacque, still patient.
"You may do so," Ned replied unmoved, "afterwards—in hell."
"I do think, indeed, Ned," I here interrupted, "he did not know me for what I am, but did mistake me for some runagate hussy."
"Then for that I will kill him!" said Ned, never turning my way, nor taking his baleful eye from the other's face. "If you would not see it done, go, bid your father come to see it is no murder."
And somehow I could not altogether disobey his word; yet I made my passage to the door as slow as foot can go.
"And now, sir," my champion continued, "I will show you how in England we do serve him that affronts the daughter of his host."
"Sir Michael's daughter!" exclaimed the poor man, so wholly careless of covering himself that Ned's intended attack upon him was perforce again delayed. "I knew her but for a pretty piece that did ride the country as a lad, and that passed yesterday many hours among us. Meeting her now in female attire, I did think——"
"For that thought alone I will kill you!" said Ned, and their swords crossed.
And so I fled to find my father, having for my lover, indeed, no fear at all, but much for the gentleman who was, when all was said, our guest, and taken, as I thought, rather in a very luckless error than in any wilful offence.
Now, as I passed through the lobby of entrance, the great door stood wide to the sweet noontide air of that shining autumn day; and I, glancing forth to see if Sir Michael were abroad and within hail, beheld coming up the avenue a great number of horsemen, their steel harness gleaming in the sun beneath the leafless trees. So I knew the Prince was come, and hastened the more to advise my father of all that was toward. Him I found very soon (though my inquietude did lend great length to the search) in the stable-yard. He was angry in face and words, and vexed at soul, for he had just learned that Philip was gone. He was come to the stable to know what horse had borne his son from the house, and it was therefore upon Christopher Kidd that his wrath now fell. The poor fellow had of this sort in the past twenty hours received more than was by any means earned, and turned upon me the eager countenance of one that looks for succor.
"Dear sir," I cried to my father, "His Highness is arrived."
"What!" cried he in answer. "Why, then, was I not advised?"
"I come to tell you," I replied. "His Highness is not yet dismounted, and with haste you may yet receive him at the door."
Now, as we spoke, Christopher had been heavily searching for something in the pocket of his breeches, which found, he hurried after us, as my father with the help of my arm made painful haste to the house.
"If the Prince be indeed come, Sir Michael," said Kidd, intercepting us at the side door of the house, "I keep my word to Master Philip, and rid myself of the plaguy thing at once." And he thrust into Sir Michael's hand a twisted and crumpled paper, and beat a rapid retreat, vanishing in the stable before my father had deciphered the last words of Philip's message.
When this was done we read it again together, and my father, after a few words of the great need there was like to be of Philip's presence among us during His Highness's visit to Drayton, despatched me in hot haste to see to the hoisting of the banner, which fluttering from the turret should bring back in the nick of time, if it pleased God, him that had, through little fault of his own, been the cause of all these troubles.
Meantime, in the hall, Ned's attack had been both skilful and bitter; so fiercely indeed did he push his opponent that M. de Rondiniacque has since taken, by his own account, no little credit to himself for the swordmanship that enabled him for a while, at least, to resist the onslaught, without, in his turn, attempting the injury of his adversary. At length, what with the fury of the attack and some carelessness on the Frenchman's part in shifting his ground, Ned had him so hemmed in and penned up in that corner of the hall that is opposite to the chief door of entrance that De Rondiniacque seemed wholly at his mercy. But, even in that passion of anger with which the despite of fortune had overwhelmed the habitual temper of his spirit, it was quite foreign to Ned's nature to take his enemy thus at an advantage. Almost in the act of delivering his point in a manner that for one in De Rondiniacque's constrained and circumscribed position would have been more than difficult to parry, he checked himself, and, retreating to the middle of the floor, cried to him to come out, for he would not willingly nail him like a stoat or weasel to the wall.
"Enough, Royston! 't is enough!" he cried, coming forward. "I did never know you bloodthirsty."
So saying, he raised his eyes and saw what Ned from his position could not see, that within the doorway stood a small and silent group, spectators of the duel. These were His Highness of Orange and some four or five others. Dismounting, they had found no sign of hospitality but the openness of the great door, and all hesitation to enter unannounced was banished by the sound of the sword-play in the hall. The Prince stepped at once into the lobby; he then stood a moment listening to the ring of meeting blades, and to the tearing, striding hiss of their parting.
"This is no fencing bout," said he, and entered the hall.
"Bloodthirsty, forsooth!" cried Ned, in answer to De Rondiniacque's essay at peacemaking. "Bloodthirsty! I have borne enough of late to make me so, in all conscience. Look to yourself, man, for I would kill you, were you William and all his troops." And with that he fell upon him again with much fury, so that the other was beginning of necessity a more aggressive defence, when the Prince stepped between them, striking up their swords with his riding-whip.
"Since when, Mr. Royston," he said, "do you carry a sword? And for whom?"
But Royston, balked of his prey, and feeling the whole world in league against him, was too full of anger to show either surprise or reverence. "Captain Royston," he said, with great and bitter emphasis on the military title, "has left his sword in miserly hands, Your Highness."
"How so?" demanded William, the frown growing deeper on his face.
"Hands that grasp what they do not need," replied Ned boldly. "But Master Royston takes a sword where he finds it, uses it against whom he pleases, and wields it for himself."
"The fault, Monseigneur, of this broil is wholly mine," interposed M. de Rondiniacque.
"Lieutenant de Rondiniacque," replied the Prince, "I know your generous nature, and for once mistrust it. What is the occasion of the broil, as you name it?"
With some hesitation M. de Rondiniacque answered that it was a quarrel—about a woman.
His Highness laughed drily. "I fear, Lieutenant," he said, "that to protect a man that was once your friend, you play very nobly upon our knowledge of your weakness."
"Indeed, sire," said De Rondiniacque, "it is as I say. I did wrong a lady, mistaking her for another kind."
"And did 'William and all his army' likewise wrong this lady?" asked the Prince.
"Indeed, no, Your Highness," replied De Rondiniacque.
"Then I must believe, Lieutenant," the Prince continued, "that it is for no kiss to a pretty girl, but for holding my commission, that you were even now in danger of your life. We have it from his own lips that he had as lief kill me as you." Then, as the generous fellow would again have spoken in endeavor to put the matter in a better aspect, "No more, sir," said His Highness; "stand aside." He then proceeded to address Captain Royston.
"Sir," he said, "I spared your life of late. But I did warn you that if found again in our neighborhood, or raising hand against us, were it never so little, you were like to get such treatment as we give to spies." And, turning to the officers and gentlemen that had entered the hall in his company, he added: "How think you, gentlemen?"
To this question Mr. Bentinck contented himself with replying that His Highness had indeed promised as much, and that it was for him to judge whether his conditions had been infringed; Count Schomberg, who was still of the party, said, speaking in the French language, that an example would not come amiss at this juncture, for he believed these raw English levies were proving not a little turbulent and likely to give trouble. The rest, much, I think, to their honor, kept silence, having perhaps the greatest difficulty in believing the matters alleged against Captain Royston, that his confession of the night before came to them but at second-hand.
There is little doubt in my mind that the silence of these two younger gentlemen, taking sides, as it seemed to do, with the small doubt or hesitation that still lurked in the Prince's mind, added for the moment fuel to his anger. He bade the junior of them go to the escort, and send in a file of men; this gentleman, as he went, encountering Sir Michael in the doorway, after one glance in his face, stood back, giving way to him with a natural and involuntary respect. For M. de Rondiniacque has told me that my father entered the hall with that pure and noble dignity of bearing to which age, infirmity, and even lameness can but add distinction.
"Your Highness is welcome," he said, at once singling out and approaching his chief guest. "I regret my failure to welcome his arrival, and could wish I had better entertainment to give."
"I am wholly of your mind, Sir Michael Drayton," replied the Prince. "I like it so little that I take my leave of you." And with that he turned his back upon his host, addressing some words in a low voice to Mr. Bentinck.
The insult was plain, and, although he was in a measure prepared for trouble by the few words he had heard before he entered the hall, such an attack upon himself was wholly beyond Sir Michael's expectation. He was, however, a man to resent discourtesy most readily from the highest source.
"I will ask Your Highness," said he, in a voice very clear and steady, "how we have incurred his displeasure." Then the old man drew himself to his full height, and his voice recovered for a space some of the fuller and rounder tones of earlier days. "Ay, but it is," he said very solemnly, "a matter very weighty. Since Your Highness has so spoken, and within my walls, I may ask the reason of it."
The Prince turned upon him with a great suddenness. "Then know, sir," he answered, almost fiercely, "that I was yesterday received under pretence of loyalty and friendship into the house of an English gentleman that has served me beyond the seas. But the house, sir, was a trap, and I the rat for whom the bait was set." At this point it was that two troopers, preceded by the young officer, entered the hall. His Highness regarded them for a moment, and then continued to Sir Michael his explanation, which rapidly unfolded itself as a charge against more than Edward Royston. "Well, Sir Michael, I spared that man's life, moved to clemency, I believe, in chief by the persuasion of a young fellow that did bring me warning of my danger. For this treacherous host, I dismissed him my service, and, if proof that I then erred was lacking last night, it is not far to seek this morning. For I now find the man here, with my messenger to you at his sword's point, and threats against me and mine mingling with his sword-play. How shall I know this is not yet another hotbed of false friends? In truth, I do believe it such. Therefore, I say again, sir, I do not like my entertainment."
"Your Highness is much abused," said Sir Michael, mighty calmly.
"Indeed," replied the Prince, with a harsh and unkindly laugh, "I do believe I am."
"For this is a matter," continued my father, loftily passing over the twisting of his word, "of which I do know the rights."
"'T is like enough, sir," said the Prince. "But I do not look to hear them from you." Then, turning to the two troopers, he bade them arrest Captain Royston, saying to them and the officer that he should hold them responsible for the prisoner's person till Exeter was reached. Now, Ned had stood all this while with my father's sword still naked in his hand, the point resting upon the floor.
"Take his sword," said His Highness.
And poor Ned, by this caring little what he did, flung the borrowed weapon on the ground.
"The sword is mine!" said Sir Michael.
"I ask your pardon, Sir Michael," cried Ned, and stooped to raise it, saying, as he reverently presented the hilt to its owner: "I did use it for your daughter, sir."
For which Sir Michael thanked him very civilly, and then addressed the future King of England in words that I think he has not to this day forgot.
"William, Prince of Orange," he said, "this sword had been raised against King Charles the Martyr himself in defence of the friend beneath my roof. But now my hand can barely fetch it from the sheath. Yet is my tongue not rusted, and the old man's voice must be heard." And then, as a silence fell heavy upon the room, he added, "Ay, and heard it shall be."
The Prince turned his aquiline gaze upon him, but the man who had met and endured unflinching the eyes of the Lord Protector Cromwell was no whit abashed. I have heard old men say that thirty years ago my father's glance could be terrible as his sword; and even now there were moments when from the dimmed azure of that deep-set eye the mist of its many years was lifted, and the color grew cerulean round the keen and glowing spark that lit up, it seemed, not only the orb, but the whole countenance of the man, while it pierced the heart of the wicked, and not seldom affected even the innocent with a great fear. The Prince, like the brave man he ever was, met the old man's eye with courage.
"Be brief, sir," said he, "and I will hear you." And although it was at this moment that without we heard the clamorous arrival of a despatch-rider who shortly after entered, with bloody spurs and bespattered to the eyes with mud, and presented a sealed packet to Mr. Bentinck, yet, throughout the little commotion thus made, His Highness never once turned his attention from Sir Michael.
"I do here solemnly declare," said my father, "that Edward Royston hath done no treason to you."
"He has refused all account of his action," replied the Prince, very coldly.
"And so doing," retorted the old man, "he intended the sacrificing his own honor to mine."
"Said I not you were in league with him?" cried the Prince.
"Indeed, I am so," answered Sir Michael; "but in no treason."
"If the truth will clear his name," said His Highness, "the truth must be said."
"And shall be, if Your Highness grant us breathing time of one short half-hour." And here Ned's valiant advocate paused a little, waiting a reply that came not, for this concession of time he was determined to win, if it were by any means to be gained; having no mind to tell Philip's story without his son's knowledge of the telling, and his presence to bear witness, if need were, to the truth of the tale. And all this while, from the coming of the courier, Mr. Bentinck had perused the papers he had taken from the packet placed in his hands. He now raised his head, and eyed keenly the two speakers, as one that had not missed a word of their talk. "How saith the great Prince," my father continued, "that is come to set free a land enslaved? Thirty little minutes on the dial's face? It is surely no great boon to ask."
And Mr. Bentinck stepped up to the Prince, saying privately, but not so low as to be unheard of all: "Grant it. I have here news that do affect the matter."
And so it came about that the Prince, with a growth of courtesy forced upon him by Sir Michael's bearing, did promise in half an hour's time to hear his story in defence of the accused, asking very civilly his host's permission to walk with his suite in the garden that he spied from the windows until the time were past. So—the Prince and his following walking abroad; my father despatching Simon and others not only with refreshment for the gentlemen, but also great tankards of ale and other good things to the soldiers of the escort; Ned with his guard, moreover, being quartered for this momentous half-hour in my father's little chamber on the ground floor; and I, like Sister Anne in the tale of Bluebeard and his many wives, being posted on the roof of the turret, and, beneath a flag that would not at all, in the light breeze that there was, spread itself to my liking, watching with an old spy-glass to my eye for the horseman that should by his coming make us all happy again—there was left in the hall none but the luckless cause of this present phase of our troubles. M. de Rondiniacque at least thought himself alone; and since he is of a nature very generous and candid, who so unhappy as he?