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of Toronto
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Estate of the late
Mary Sinclair
When Knighthood Was In Flower
"COULD YOU MAKE HIM
DUKE OF SUFFOLK?" p. 247
WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS
IN FLOWER
OR
THE LOVE STORY OF
Cbarles JSranfcon an&
THE KING'S SISTER, AND HAPPENING IN THE REIGN OF
HIS AUGUST MAJESTY, KING HENRY VIII
REWRITTEN AND RENDERED INTO MODERN ENGLISH PROM
SIR EDWIN CASKODEN'S MEMOIR
BY EDWIN CASKODEN
[CHARLES MAJOR]
FIFTY-SEVENTH THOUSAND
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA, U. S. A.
THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY
if?
Copyright, 1898
By
The Bowen-Merrill Company
1057059
Published September, 1898. Reprinted in October, twice
in November, three times in December, 1898, three times in
January, 1899, twice in February, five times in March, three
times in April, and three times in May,
TO MY WIFE
CONTENTS
The Caskodens \
I* The Duel 5
II. How Brandon Came to Court JO
HI* The Princess Mary 17
IV, A Lesson in Dancing 32
V* An Honor and an Enemy 52
VL A Ride to Windsor 62
VIL Love's Fierce Sweetness 7*
VEL The Trouble in Billingsgate "Ward 89
IX* Put Not Your Trust in Princesses JOJ
X, Justice, O King! \\1
XL Louis XII a Suitor 126
XIL Atonement 140
XIIL A Girl's Consent J48
XIV* In the Siren Country J57
XV* To Make a Man of Her J70
XVL A Hawking Party J78
XVIL The Elopement J87
XVIIL To the Tower 20*
XIX* Proserpina 210
XX* Down into France 222
XXL Letters from a Queen 234
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FAGS
1 COULD YOU MAKE HIM DUKE OF SUFFOLK?" . . . . Frontispiece
. . A DISCOVERY THAT HE CHEATED." 6
1 HAVE I THE HONOR TO FIND THE PRINCESS?" 25
: MY LORD HAS DROPPED HIS SWORD." 55
1 WHEN WE CAME UP ... MARY SAID, ' I FEAR MY GIRTH IS
LOOSE.'" 64
'BRANDON THRUST HIS SWORD INTO THE HORSE'S THROAT." . . 99
' I RODE UP TO THE KING AND WITH UNCOVERED HEAD
ADDRESSED HIM. ..." 120
' IT IS MY TURN TO ASK FORGIVENESS. ..." 144
"SHE WENT ALONE, ONE AFTERNOON, TO SEE BRANDON." . . . 163
"( GOOD-BYE, MY FRIEND,' . . . AND SHE FLEW HER BIRD . . ." 181
"... I DELIVERED THE REST OF MARY'S MESSAGE." . . . 185
" . . . ONE OF THOSE BLACK NIGHTS FIT FOR WITCH TRAVEL-
ING." 188
" THESE FELLOWS . . . GATHERED ABOUT MARY TO INSPECT
HER." 195
"AT MIDNIGHT A BODY OF YEOMEN . . . TOOK POSSESSION OF
THE BOW AND STRING." 201
"l . , . WAS PERMITTED TO SEE BRANDON." 211
"MARY . . . SAID, ' IT WAS LIKE A PLAY WIDDHCG.' " . . 226
*" Cloth of gold do not despise,
Though thou be match'd with cloth of frize;
Cloth of frize, be not too bold,
Though thou be match'd with cloth of gold."
* Inscription on a label affixed to Brandon's lance undar a pictnrs
of Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon, at Strawberry Hill.
There lived a Knight, when Knighthood was in flow'r,
Who charmed alike the tilt-yard and the bow'r."
When Knighthood Was In Flower
THE CASKODENS
WE Caskodens take great pride in our ancestry. Some
persons, I know, hold all that to be totally un-Solomon-
like and the height of vanity, but they, usually, have no
ancestors of whom to be proud. The man who does not
know who his great-grandfather was, naturally enough
would not care what he was. The Caskodens have pride
of ancestry because they know both who and what.
Even admitting that it is vanity at all, it is an impersonal
sort of failing, which, like the excessive love of country,
leans virtueward ; for the man who fears to disgrace his
ancestors is certainly less likely to disgrace himself. Of
course there are a great many excellent persons who can
go no further back than papa and mamma, who, doubt-
less, eat and drink and sleep as well, and love as happily,
as if they could trace an unbroken lineage clear back to
Adam or Noah, or somebody of that sort. Nevertheless,
we Caskodens are proud of our ancestry, and expect to re-
main so to the end of the chapter, regardless of whom it
pleases or displeases.
We have a right to be proud, for there is an unbroken
male line from William the Conqueror down to the pres-
ent time. In this lineal list are fourteen Barons — the title
lapsed when Charles I fell — twelve Knights of the Garter
and forty-seven Knights of Bath and other orders. A
Caskoden distinguished himself by gallant service under
the Great Norman and was given rich English lands and
2 When Knighthood Was In Flower
a fair Saxon bride, albeit an unwilling one, as his reward.
With this fair, unwilling Saxon bride and her long plait
of yellow hair goes a very pretty, pathetic story, which I
may tell you at some future time if you take kindly to this.
A Caskoden was seneschal to William Rufus, and sat
at the rich, half barbaric banquets in the first Great Hall.
Still another was one of the doughty barons who wrested
from John the Great Charter, England's declaration of in-
dependence ; another was high in the councils of Henry V.
I have omitted one whom I should not fail to mention :
Adjodika Caskoden, who was a member of the Dunce Par-
liament of Henry IV, so called because there were no law-
yers in it.
It is true that in the time of Edward IV a Caskoden did
stoop to trade, but it was trade of the most dignified, hon-
orable sort; he was a goldsmith, and his guild, as you
know, were the bankers and international clearance house
for people, king and nobles. Besides, it is stated on good
authority that there was a great scandal wherein the gold-
smith's wife was mixed up in an intrigue with the noble
King Edward ; so we learn that even in trade the Casko-
dens were of honorable position and basked in the smile of
their prince. As for myself, I am not one of those who
object so much to trade ; and I think it contemptible in a
man to screw his nose all out of place sneering at it, while
enjoying every luxury of life from its profits.
This goldsmith was shrewd enough to turn what some
persons might call his ill fortune, in one way, into gain in
another. He was one of those happily constituted, thrifty
philosophers who hold that even misfortune should not be
wasted, and that no evil is so great but the alchemy of
common sense can transmute some part of it into good.
So he coined the smiles which the king shed upon his wife
—he being powerless to prevent, for Edward smiled where
he listed, and listed nearly everywhere — into nobles,
crowns and pounds sterling, and left a glorious fortune to
his son and to his son's son, unto about the fourth genera-
tion, which was a ripe old age for a fortune, I think.
How few of them live beyond the second, and fewer still
beyond the third. It was during the third generation of
i
The Caskodcns 3
this fortune that the events of the following history oc-
curred.
Now, it has been the custom of the Caskodens for centu-
ries to keep a record of events, as they have happened,
both private and public. Some are in the form of diaries
and journals like those of Pepys and Evelyn ; others in let-
ters like the Pastons ; others again in verse and song like
Chaucer and the Water Poet ; and still others in the more
pretentious line of memoir and chronicle. These records
we always have kept jealously within our family, thinking
it vulgar, like the Pastons, to submit our private affairs to
public gaze.
There can, however, be no reason why those parts
treating solely of outside matters should be so carefully
guarded, and I have determined to choose for publication
such portions as do not divulge family secrets nor skele-
tons, and which really redound to family honor.
For this occasion I have selected from the memoir of
my worthy ancestor and namesake, Sir Edwin Caskoden—
grandson of the goldsmith, and Master of the Dance to
Henry VIII — the story of Charles Brandon and Mary Tu-
dor, sister to the king.
This story is so well known to the student of English
history that I fear its repetition will lack that zest which at-
tends the development of an unforeseen denouement. But
it is of so great interest, and is so full, in its sweet, fierce
manifestation, of the one thing insoluble by time, Love,
that I will nevertheless rewrite it from old Sir Edwin's
memoir. Not so much as an historical narrative, although
I fear a little history will creep in, despite me, but simply
as a picture of that olden long ago, which, try as we will
to put aside the hazy, many-folded curtain of time, still re-
tains its shadowy lack of sharp detail, toning down and
mellowing the hard aspect of real life — harder and more
unromantic even than our own — into the blending softness
of an exquisite mirage.
I might give you the exact words in which Sir Edwin
wrote, and shall now and then quote from contemporane-
ous chronicles in the language of his time, but should I so
write it all, I fear the pleasure of perusal would but poorly
4 "When Knighthood "Was In Flowef
pay for the trouble, as the English of the Bluff King is
almost a foreign tongue to us. I shall, therefore, with a
few exceptions, give Sir Edwin's memoir in words, spell-
ing and idiom which his rollicking little old shade will
probably repudiate as none of his whatsoever. So, if you
happen to find sixteenth century thought hobnobing in the
same sentence with nineteenth century English, be not
disturbed ; I did it : If the little old fellow grows grandil-
oquent or garrulous at the time — he did that. If you find
him growing super-sentimental, remember that sentiment-
alism was the life-breath of chivalry just then approaching
its absurdest climax in the bombastic conscientiousness of
Bayard and the whole mental atmosphere laden with its
pompous nonsense.
CHAPTER I
The Duel
IT sometimes happens, Sir Edwin says, that when a
woman will she won't, and when she won't she will ; but
usually in the end the adage holds good. That sentence
may not be luminous with meaning, but I will give you an
illustration.
I think it was in the spring of 1509, at any rate soon
after the death of the "Modern Solomon," as Queen Cath-
erine called her old father-in-law, the late King Henry
VII, that his august majesty Henry VIII, " The Vndubi-
tate Flower and very Heire of both the sayd Linages,"
came to the throne of England, and tendered me the hon-
orable position of Master of the Dance at his sumptuous
court.
As to "worldly goods," as some of the new religionists
call wealth, I was very comfortably off; having inherited
from my father, one of the counselors of Henry VII, a
very competent fortune indeed. How my worthy father
contrived to save from the greedy hand of that rich old
miser so great a fortune, I am sure I can not tell. He was
the only man of my knowledge who did it ; for the old
king had a reach as long as the kingdom, and, upon one
pretext or another, appropriated to himself everything on
which he could lay his hands. My father, however, was
himself pretty shrewd at money matters, having inherited
along with his fortune a rare knack for keeping it. His
father was a goldsmith in the time of King Edward, and
enjoyed the marked favor of that puissant prince.
Being thus in a position of affluence, I cared nothing for
(5)
6 When Knighthood Was In Flower
the fact that little or no emolument went with the office v
it was the honor which delighted me. Besides, I was
thereby an inmate of the king's palace, and brought into
intimate relations with the court, and, above all, with the
finest ladies of the land — the best company a man can
keep, since it ennobles his mind with better thoughts, pur-
ifies his heart with cleaner motives, and makes him gentle
without detracting from his strength. It was an office any
lord of the kingdom might have been proud to hold.
Now, some four or five years after my induction to said
honorable office, there came to court news of a terrible
duel fought down in Suffolk, out of which only one of the
four combatants had come alive — two, rather, but one of
them was in a condition worse than death. The first sur-
vivor was a son of Sir William Brandon, and the second was
a man called Sir Adam Judson. The story went that
young Brandon and his elder brother, both just home from
the continental wars, had met Judson at an Ipswich inn,
where there had been considerable gambling among
them. Judson had won from the brothers quite a large
sum of money which they had brought home ; for, not-
withstanding their youth, the elder being but twenty-six
and the younger about twenty-four years of age, they had
gained great honor and considerable profit in the wars, es-
pecially the younger, whose name was Charles.
It is a little hard to fight for money and then lose it by
a single spot upon the die, but such is the fate of him who
plays, and a philosopher will swallow his ill luck and take
to fighting for more. The Brandons could have done
this easily enough, especially Charles, who was an offhand
philosopher, rather fond of a good-humored fight, had it
not been that in the course of play one evening the secret
of Judson's winning had been disclosed by a discovery
that he cheated. The Brandons waited until they were
sure, and then trouble began, which resulted in a duel on
the second morning following.
This Judson was a Scotch gentleman of whom very lit-
tle was known, except that he was counted the most dead-
ly and most cruel duelist of the time. He was called the
44 Walking Death," and it is said took pride in the ap«
'. . . A DISCOVERY THAT
HE CHEATED." p. 6
The
pellation. He claimed to have fought eighty-seven duels,
in which he had killed seventy-five men, and it was consid-
ered certain death to meet him. I got the story of the
duel afterwards from Brandon as I give it here. >
John was the elder brother, and when the challenge
came was entitled to fight first ; a birthright out of which
Charles tried in vain to talk him. The brothers told their
father, Sir William Brandon, and at the appointed time
father and sons repaired to the place of meeting, where
they found Judson and his two seconds ready for the fight.
Sir William was still a vigorous man, with few equals in
sword play, and the sons, especially the younger, were
better men and more skillful than their father had ever
been, yet they felt that this duel meant certain death, so
great was Judson's fame for skill and cruelty. Notwith-
standing they were so handicapped with this feeling of im-
pending evil, they met their duty without a tremor ; for
the motto of their house was, ^^Malo Mori £>uam Fed"
rai."
It was a misty morning in March. Brandon has told me
since, that when his elder brother took his stand, it was at
once manifest that he was Judson's superior, both in
strength and skill, but after a few strokes the brother's
blade bent double and broke off short at the hilt when it
should have gone home. Thereupon, Judson, with a ma-
lignant smile of triumph, deliberately selected his oppo-
nent's heart and pierced it with his sword, giving the blade
a twist as he drew it out in order to cut and mutilate the
more.
In an instant Sir William's doublet was off, and he was
in his dead son's tracks, ready to avenge him or die. Again
the thrust which should have killed broke the sword, and
the father died as the son had died.
After this, came young Charles, expecting, but, so great
was his strong heart, not one whit fearing, to lie beside his
dead father and brother. He knew he was the superior of
both in strength and skill, and his knowledge of men and
the Noble Art told him they had each been the superior of
Judson ; but the fellow's hand seemed to be the hand of
death. An opening came through Judson's unskillful
S When Knighthood Was In Flower
play, which gave young Brandon an opportunity for a
thrust to kill, but his blade, like his father's and broth-
er's, bent double without penetrating. Unlike the others,
however, it did not break, and the thrust revealed the
fact that Judson's skill as a duelist lay in a shirt of mail
which it was useless to try to pierce. Aware of this,
Brandon knew that victory was his, and that soon he would
have avenged the murders that had gone before. He saw
that his adversary was strong neither in wind nor arm, and
had not the skill to penetrate his guard in a week's trying,
so he determined to fight on the defensive until Judson's
strength should wane, and then kill him when and how he
chose.
After a time Judson began to breathe hard and his
thrusts to lack force.
"Boy, I would spare you," he said; *4I have killed
enough of your tribe ; put up your sword and call it quits."
Young Brandon replied: "Stand your ground, you
coward ; you will be a dead man as soon as you grow a
little weaker ; if you try to run I will thrust you through
the neck as I would a cur. Listen how you snort. I shall
soon have you ; you are almost gone. You would spare
me, would you? I could preach a sermon or dance a
hornpipe while I am killing you. I will not break my
sword against your coat of mail, but will wait until you
fall from weakness and then .... Fight, you bloodhound!"
Judson was pale from exhaustion, and his breath was
coming in gasps as he tried to keep the merciless sword
from his throat. At last, by a dexterous twist of his blade,
Brandon sent Judson's sword flying thirty feet away. The
fellow started to run, but turned and fell upon his knees to
beg for life. Brandon's reply was a flashing circle of steel,
and his sword point cut lengthwise through Judson's eyes
and the bridge of his nose, leaving him sightless and hide-
ous for life. A revenge compared to which death would
have been merciful.
The duel created quite a sensation throughout the king-
dom, for although little was known as to who Judson was,
his fame as a duelist was as broad as the land. He had
been at court upon several occasions, and, at one time,
The Duel 9
upon the king's birthday, had fought in the royal lists. So
the matter came in for its share of consideration by king
and courtiers, and young Brandon became a person of inter-
est. He became still more so when some gentlemen who
had served with him in the continental wars told the court
of his daring and bravery, and related stories of deeds at
arms worthy of the best knight in Christendom.
He had an uncle at the court, Sir Thomas Brandon, the
king's Master of Horse, who thought it a good opportunity
to put his nephew forward and let him take his chance at
winning royal favor. The uncle broached the subject to
the king, with favorable issue, and Charles Brandon, led
by the hand of fate, came to London Court, where that
same fate had in keeping for him events such as seldom
fall to the lot of man.
CHAPTERH
How Brandon Came to Court
WHEN we learned that Brandon was coming to court,
every one believed he would soon gain the king's favor.
How much that would amount to none could tell, as the
king's favorites were of many sorts and taken from all con-
ditions of men. There was Master Wolsey, a butcher's
son, whom he had first made almoner, then chief counse-
lor and Bishop of Lincoln, soon to be Bishop of York, and
Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church.
From the other extreme of life came young Thomas,
Lord Howard, heir to the Earl of Surrey, and my Lord of
Buckingham, premier peer of the realm. Then sometimes
would the king take a yeoman of the guard and make him
his companion in jousts and tournaments, solely because of
his brawn and bone. There were others whom he kept
close by him in the palace because of their wit and the en-
tertainment they furnished ; of which class was I, and, I
flatter myself, no mean member.
To begin with, being in no way dependent on the king
for money, I never drew a farthing from the royal treasury.
This, you may be sure, did me no harm, for although the
king sometimes delighted to give, he always hated to pay.
There were other good reasons, too, why I should be a fa-
vorite with the king. Without meaning to be vain, I think
I may presume to say, writh perfect truth, that my conversa-
tion and manners were far more pleasing and polished than
were usual at that day in England, for I made it a point to
spend several weeks each year in the noble French capital,
the home and center of good-breeding and politeness.
(10)
How Brandon Came to Court n
My appointment as Master of the Dance, I am sure, was
owing entirely to my manner. My brother, the baron,
who stood high with the king, was not friendly toward me
because my father had seen fit to bequeath me so good a
competency in place of giving it all to the first-born and
leaving me dependent upon the tender mercies of an elder
brother. So I had no help from him nor from any one else.
I was quite small of stature — that is lengthwise — and, there-
fore, unable to compete, with lance and mace, with bulkier
men ; but I would bet with any man, of any size, on any
game, at any place and time, in any amount; and, if I do
say it, who perhaps should not, basked in the light of many
a fair smile which larger men had sighed for in vain.
I did not know when Brandon first came to London.
We had all remained at Greenwich while the king went
up to Westminster to waste his time with matters of state
and quarrel with the parliament, then sitting, over the
amount of certain subsidies.
Mary, the king's sister, then some eighteen or nineteen
years of age, a perfect bud, just blossoming into a perfect
flower, had gone over to Windsor on a visit to her elder sis-
ter, Margaret of Scotland, and the palace was dull enough.
Brandon, it seems, had been presented to Henry during
this time, at Westminster, and had, to some extent at least,
become a favorite before I met him. The first time I saw
him was at a joust given by the king at Westminster, in
celebration of the fact that he had coaxed a good round
subsidy out of parliament.
The queen and her ladies had been invited over, and it
was known that Mary would be down from Windsor and
come home with the king and the court to Greenwich when
we should return. So we all went over to Westminster
the night before the jousts, and were up bright and early
next morning to see all that was to be seen.
[Here the editor sees fit to substitute a description of this
tournament taken from the quaint old chronicler, Hall.]
The morow beyng after dynner, at tyme conuenenient, the Quene
with her Ladyes repaired to see the lustes, the trompettes blewe vp,
and in came many a noble man and Gentlema, rychely appeareiled,
takynge vp thir horses, aftei; whome folowed certayne lordea ap-
13 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
pareiled, they and thir horses, in cloth of Golde and russet and
tynsell; Knyghtes in cloth of Golde, and russet Veluet. And a
greate nomber of Gentlemen on fote, in russet satyn and yealow,
and yomen in russet Damaske and jealow, all the nether parte of
euery mans hosen Skarlet, and yealow cappes.
Then came the kynge vnder a Pauilion of golde, and purpul Vel-
uet embroudered, the compass of the Pauilion about, and valenced
with a flat, gold beaten in wyre, with an Imperiall croune in the
top, of fyne Golde, his bases and trapper of cloth of Golde, fretted
with Damask Golde, the trapper pedant to the tail. A crane and
chafron of stele, in the front of the chafrO was a goodly plume set
full of musers or trimbling spangles of golde. After folowed his
three aydes, euery of them vnder a Pauilion of Crymosyn Dam-
aske & purple. The nomber of Gentlemen and yomen a fote, ap-
pareiled in russet andyealow was CLXVIII. Then next these Pauil-
ions came xn chyldren of honor, sitting euery one of them on a
greate courser, rychely trapped, and embroudered in seuerall deuises
and facions, where lacked neither brouderie nor goldsmythes work,
so that euery chyld and horse in deuice and fascion was contrary to
the other, which was goodly to beholde.
Then on the counter parte, entered a Straunger, fyrst on horse-
backe in a long robe of Russet satyne, like a recluse or a religious,
and his horse trapped in the same sewte, without dromme or noyse
of mynstrelsye, puttinge a byll of peticion to the Quene, the effect
whereof was, that if it would please her to license hym to runne in
her presence, he would do it gladly, and if not, then he would de-
parte as he came. After his request was graunted, then he put off
hys sayd habyte and was armed at all peces with ryche bases &
horse, also rychely trapped, and so did runne his horse to the tylte
end, where dieurs men on fote appareiled in Russet satyn awaited
on him. Thereupon the Heraulds cryed an Oyez! and the grownd
shoke with the trompe of rushynge stedes. Wonder it were to
write of the dedes of Armes which that day toke place, where a
man might haue seen many a horse raysed on highe with galop,
turne and stoppe, maruaylous to behold. C.xiv staves were broke
and the kynge being lusty, he and the straunger toke the prices.
When the queen had given the stranger permission to
run, and as he moved away, there was a great clapping of
hands and waving of trophies among the ladies, for he was
of such noble mien and comely face as to attract the gaze
of every one away from even the glittering person of his
Majesty the King.
His hair, worn in its natural length, fell in brown curls
back from his forehead almost to the shoulder, a style just
then new, even in France. His eyes were a deep blue,
and his complexion, though browned by exposure, held 9
How Brandon Came to Co art 13
tinge of beauty which the sun could not mar and a girl
might envy. He wore neither mustachio nor beard, as
men now disfigure their faces — since Francis I took a scar
on his chin — and his clear cut profile, dilating nostrils and
mobile, though firm-set mouth, gave pleasing assurance of
tenderness, gentleness, daring and strength.
I was standing near the queen, who called to me : u Who
is the handsome stranger that so gracefully asked our license
to run?"
"I can not inform your majesty. I never saw him until
now. He is the goodliest knight I have ever beheld."
"That he is," replied the queen; "and we should like
very much to know him. Should we not, ladies?" There
was a chorus of assent from a dozen voices, and I promised,
after the running, to learn all about him and report.
It was at this point the heralds cried their "Oyes," and
our conversation was at an end for the time.
As to height, the stranger was full six feet, with ample
evidence of muscle, though no great bulk. He was grace
itself, and the king afterwards said he had never seen
such strength of arm and skill in the use of the lance — a
sure harbinger of favor, if not of fortune, for the posses-
sor.
After the jousting the Princess Mary asked me if I could
yet give her an account of the stranger ; and as I could not,
she went to the king.
I heard her inquire :
" Who was your companion, brother?"
" That is a secret, sister. You will find out soon
enough, and will be falling in love with him, no doubt. I
have always looked upon you as full of trouble for me in
that line; you will not so much as glance at anyone I
choose for you, but I suppose would be ready enough with
your smiles for some one I should not want."
" Is the stranger one whom you would not want?" asked
Mary, with a dimpling smile and a flash of her brown eyes.
" He most certainly is," returned the king.
" Then I will fall in love with him at once. In fact, I
don't know but I have already."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that; if I wanted him, he
r4 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
might be Apollo himself and you would have none of
him." King Henry had been compelled to refuse several
very advantageous alliances because this fair, coaxing, self-
willed sister would not consent to be a part of the moving
consideration.
" But can you not tell me who he is, and what his de-
gree?" went on Mary in a bantering tone.
u He has no degree; he is a plain, untitled soldier, not
even a knight; that is, not an English knight. I think he
has a German or Spanish order of some sort."
11 Not a duke ; not an earl ; not even a baron or knight?
Now he has become interesting."
" Yes, I suppose so; but don't bother me."
" Will he be at the dance and banquet to-night?"
" No! No! Now I must go; don't bother me, I say."
And the king moved away.
That night we had a grand banquet and dance at West-
minster, and the next day we all, excepting Lady Mary, went
back to Greenwich by boat, paying a farthing a head for
our fare. This was just after the law fixing the boat fare,
and the watermen were a quarreling lot, you may be sure.
One farthing from Westminster to Greenwich! Eight
miles. No wonder they were angry.
The next day I went back to London on an errand, and
over to Wolsey's house to borrow a book. While there
Master Cavendish, Wolsey's secretary, presented me to
the handsome stranger, and he proved to be no other
than Charles Brandon, who had fought the terrible duel
down in Suffolk. I could hardly believe that so mild-
mannered and boyish a person could have taken the leading
part in such a tragedy. But with all his gentleness there
was an underlying dash of cool daring which intimated
plainly enough that he was not all mildness.
We became friends at once, drawn together by that subtle
human quality which makes one nature fit into another, re-
sulting in friendship between men, and love between men
and women. We soon found that we had many tastes in
common, chief among which was the strongest of all con-
genial bonds, the love of books. In fact we had come to
know each other through our common love of reading, for
How Brandon Came to Court 15
he also had gone to Master Cavendish, who had a fine li-
brary, to borrow some volumes to take with him down to
Greenwich.
Brandon informed me he was to go to Greenwich that
day, so we determined to see a little of London, which was
new to him, and then take boat in time to be at the palace
before dark.
That evening, upon arriving at Greenwich, we hunted
up Brandon's uncle, the Master of Horse, who invited his
nephew to stay with him for the night. He refused, how-
ever, and accepted an invitation to take a bed in my room.
The next day Brandon was installed as one of the cap-
tains of the king's guard, under his uncle, but with no
particular duties, except such as should be assigned him
from time to time. He was offered a good room on one
of the lower floors, but asked, instead, to be lodged in the
attic next to me. So we arranged that each had a room
opening into a third, that served us alike for drawing-room
and armory.
Here we sat and talked, and now and then one would
read aloud some favorite passage, while the other kept his
own place with finger between the leaves. Here we dis-
cussed everything from court scandal to religion, and set-
tled to our own satisfaction, at least, many a great prob-
lem with which the foolish world is still wrestling.
We told each other all our secrets, too, for all the world
like a pair of girls. Although Brandon had seen so much
of life, having fought on the continent ever since he was a
boy, and for all he was so much a man of the world, yet
had he as fresh and boyish a heart as if he had just come
from the clover fields and daisies. He seemed almost dif-
fident, but I soon learned that his manner was but the cool
gentleness of strength.
Of what use, let me ask, is a friend unless you can un-
load your heart upon him ? It matters not whether the
load be joy or sorrow ; if the former, the need is all the
greater, for joy has an expansive power, as some persons
claim steam has, and must escape from the heart upon
some one else.
So Brandon told me of his hopes and aspirations, chief
16 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
among which was his desire to earn, and save, enough
money to pay the debt against his father's estate, which
he had turned over to his younger brother and sisters. He,
as the eldest, could have taken it all, for his father had
died without a will, but he said there was not enough to
divide, so he had given it to them and hoped to leave it
clear of debt ; then for New Spain, glory and fortune,
conquest and yellow gold. He had read of the voyage of
the great Columbus, the Cabots, and a host of others, and
the future was as rosy as a Cornish girPs cheek. Fortune
held up her lips to him, but — there's often a sting in a kiss.
CHAPTER m
The Princess Mary
Now, at - that time Mary, the king's sister, was just
ripening into her greatest womanly perfection. Her skin
was like velvet; a rich, clear, rosy snow, with the hot
young blood glowing through it like the faint red tinge we
sometimes see on the inner side of a white rose leaf. Her
hair was a very light brown, almost golden, and fluffy,
soft, and fine as a skein of Arras silk. She was of medium
height, with a figure that Venus might have envied. Her
feet and hands were small, and apparently made for the
sole purpose of driving mankind distracted. In fact, that
seemed to be the paramount object in her creation, for she
had the world of men at her feet. Her greatest beauty
was her glowing dark brown eyes, which shone with an
ever-changing luster from beneath the shade of the longest,
blackest upcurving lashes ever seen.
Her voice was soft and full, and, except when angry,
which, alas, was not infrequent, had a low and coaxing
little note that made it irresistible; she was a most adroit
coaxer, and knew her power full well, although she did
not always plead, having the Tudor temper and preferring
to command — when she could. As before hinted, she had
coaxed her royal brother out of several proposed marriages
for her, which would have been greatly to his advantage ;
and if you had only known Henry Tudor, with his vain,
boisterous, stubborn violence, you could form some idea
of Mary's powers by that achievement alone.
Will Sommers, the fool, one day spread through court
an announcement that there would be a public exhibition
1 8 When Knighthood Was In Flower
in the main hall of the palace that evening, when the
Princess Mary would perform the somewhat alarming, but,
in fact, harmless, operation of wheedling the king out of
his ears. This was just after she had coaxed him to annul
a marriage contract which her father had made for her
with Charles of Germany, then heir to the greatest inher-
itance that ever fell to the lot of one man: Spain, the
Netherlands, Austria, and heaven only knows what else.
She had been made love to by so many men, who had
lost their senses in the dazzling rays of her thousand per-
fections— of whom, I am ashamed to say, that I, for a time,
had been insane enough to be one — that love had grown to
be a sort of joke with her, and man, a poor, contemptible
creature, made to grovel at her feet. Not that she liked
or encouraged it ; for, never having been moved herself,
she held love and its sufferings in utter scorn. Man's love
was so cheap and plentiful that it had no value in her eyes,
and it looked as if she would lose the best thing in life by
having too much of it.
Such was the royal maid to whose tender mercies, I now
tell you frankly, my friend Brandon was soon to be turned
over. He, however, was a blade of very different temper
from any she had known ; and when I first saw signs of a
growing intimacy between them I felt, from what little I
had seen of Brandon, that the tables were very likely to
be turned upon her ladyship. Then thought I, 4 * God
help her/' for in a nature like hers, charged with latent
force, strong and hot and fiery as the sun's stored rays, it
needed but a flash to make it patent, when damage was
sure to follow for somebody — probably Brandon.
Mary did not come home with us from Westminster the
morning after the joustings, as we had expected, but fol-
lowed some four or five days later, and Brandon had fairly
settled himself at court before her arrival. As neither his
duties nor mine were onerous, we had a great deal of time
on our hands, which we employed walking and riding, or
sitting in our common room reading and talking. Of
course, as with most young men, that very attractive branch
of natural history, feminology, was a favorite topic, and
we accordingly discussed it a great deal ; that is, to tell the
The Princess Mary 19
exact truth, /did. Although Brandon had seen many an
adventure during his life on the continent, which would not
do to write down here, he was as little of a boaster as any
man I ever met, and, while I am in the truth-telling busi-
ness, I was as great a braggart of my inches as ever drew
the long-bow — in that line, I mean. Gods! I flush up
hot, even now, when I think of it. So I talked a great
deal and found myself infinitely pleased with Brandon's
conversational powers, which were rare; being no less
than the capacity for saying nothing, and listening politely
to an infinite deal of the same thing, in another form, from
me.
I remember that I told him I had known the Princess
Mary from a time when she was twelve years old, and how
I had made a fool of myself about her. I fear I tried to
convey the impression that it was her exalted rank only
which made her look unfavorably upon my passion, and
suppressed the fact that she had laughed at me good hum-
oredly, and put me off as she would have thrust a poodle
from her lap. The truth is, she had always been kind and
courteous to me, and had admitted me to a degree of inti-
macy much greater than I deserved. This, partly at least,
grew out of the fact that I helped her along the thorny path
to knowledge ; a road she traveled at an eager gallop, for
she dearly loved to learn — from curiosity perhaps.
I am sure she held me in her light, gentle heart as a dear
friend, but while her heart was filled with this mild warmth
for me, mine began to burn with the flame that discolors
everything, and I saw her friendliness in a very distorting
light. She was much kinder to me than to most men, but
I did not see that it was by reason of my absolute harm-
lessness ; and, I suppose, because I was a vain fool, I grad-
ually began to gather hope — which goes with every vain
man's love — and what is more, actually climbed to the very
apex of idiocy and declared myself. I well knew the infi-
nite distance between us, but like every other man who
came within the circle of this charming loadstone I lost my
head, and, in short, made a greater fool of myself than I
naturally was — which is saying a good deal for that time in
my life, God knows!
20 When Knighthood Was In Flower
I knew vaguely but did not fairly realize how utterly be-
yond my reach in every way she was until I opened the
flood-gates of my passion — as I thought it — and saw her
smile, and try to check the coming laugh. Then came a
look of offended dignity, followed by a quick softening
glance.
"Leave me one friend, I pray you, Edwin. I value you
too highly to lose, and esteem you too much to torment.
Do not make of yourself one of those fools who feel, or
pretend to feel, I care not which, such preference for me.
You can not know in what contempt a woman holds a man
who follows her though she despises him. No man can
beg a woman's love; he must command it; do not join
their ranks, but let us be good friends. I will tell you the
plain truth ; it would be no different were we both of the
same degree ; even then I could not feel toward you as
you think you wish, but I can be your friend, and will
promise to be that always, if you will promise never again
to speak of this to me."
I promised solemnly and have always kept my word, as
this true, gracious woman, so full of faults and beauties,
virtues and failings, has, ever since that day and moment,
kept hers. It seemed that my love, or what I supposed
was love, left my heart at once, frozen in the cold glint
of her eyes as she smiled upon my first avowal ; somewhat
as disease may leave the sickened body upon a great shock.
And in its place came the restful flame of a friend's love,
which so softly warms without burning. But the burning !
There is nothing in life worth having compared with it for
all its pains and agonies. Is there ?
44 Now if you must love somebody," continued the prin-
cess, "there is Lady Jane Bolingbroke, who is beautiful
and good, and admires you, and, I think, could learn to
— " but here the lady in question ran out from behind
the draperies, where, I believe, she had been listening to
it all, and put her hand over her mistress* mouth to si-
lence her.
"Don't believe one word she says, Sir Edwin," cried
Lady Jane ; "if you do I never will like you." The em-
phasis on the "will" held out such involuntary promise in
The Princess Mary 21
case I did not believe the princess, that I at once protested
total want of faith in a single syllable she had said about
her, and vowed that I knew it could not be true ; that I
dared not hope for such happiness.
You see, I had begun to make love to Jane almost be-
fore I was off my knees to Mary, and, therefore, I had not
been much hurt in Mary's case. I had suffered merely a
touch of the general epidemic, not the lingering, chronic
disease that kills.
Then I knew that the best cure for the sting which lies
in a luckless love is to love elsewhere, and Jane, as she
stood there, so petite, so blushing and so fair, struck me
as quite the most pleasing antidote I could possibly find,
so I began at once to administer to myself the delightful
counter-irritant. It was a happy thought for me ; one of
those which come to a man now and then, and for which
he thanks his wits in every hour of his after life.
But the winning of Jane was not so easy a matter as my
vanity had prompted me to thinko I started with a hand-
icap, since Jane had heard my declaration to Mary, and I
had to undo all that before I could do anything else. Try
the same thing yourself with a spirited girl, naturally
laughter-loving and coy, if you think it a simple, easy
undertaking. I began to fear I should need another anti-
dote long before I heard her sweet soul-satisfying "yes."
I do not believe, however, I could have found in the whole
world an antidote to my love for Jane. You see I tell you
frankly that I won her, and conceal nothing, so far as Jane
and I are concerned, for the purpose of holding you in
suspense. I have started out to tell you the history of two
other persons — if I can ever come to it — but find a contin-
ual tendency on the part of my own story to intrude, for
every man is a very important personage to himself. I
shall, however, try to keep it out.
In the course of my talk with Brandon I had, as I have
said, told him the story of Mary, with some slight varia-
tions and coloring, or rather discoloring, to make it appear
a little less to my discredit than the barefaced truth would
have been. I told him also about Jane ; and, I grieve and
23 "When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
blush to say, expressed a confidence in that direction I lit-
tle felt.
It had been perhaps a year since my adventure with
Mary, and I had taken all that time trying to convince
Jane that I did not mean a word I had said to her mistress,
and that I was very earnest in everything I said to her.
But Jane's ears would have heard just as much had they
been the pair of beautiful little shells they so much resem-
bled. This troubled me a great deal, and the best I could
hope was that she held me on probation.
On the evening of the day Mary came home to Green-
wich, Brandon asked: u Who and what on earth is this
wonderful Mary I hear so much about ? They say she is
coming home to-day, and the court seems to have gone
mad about it ; I hear nothing but 'Mary is coming ! Mary
is coming! Mary! Mary!' from morning until night*
They say Buckingham is beside himself for love of her.
He has a wife at home, if I am right, and is old enough to
be her father. Is he not?" I assented; and Brandon
continued: UA man who will make such a fool of him-
self about a woman is woefully weak. The men of the
court must be poor creatures."
He had much to learn about the power of womanhood.
There is nothing on earth — but you know as much about
it as I do.
44 Wait until you see her," I answered, "and you will
be one of them, also. I flatter you by giving you one
hour with her to be heels over head in love. With an or-
dinary man it takes one-sixtieth of that time ; so you see
I pay a compliment to your strength of mind."
4 'Nonsense!" broke in Brandon. "Do you think I
left all my wits down in Suffolk? Why, man, she is the
sister of the king, and is sought by kings and emperors. I
might as well fall in love with a twinkling star. Then,
besides, my heart is not on my sleeve. You must think
me a fool ; a poor, enervated, simpering fool like — like —
well, like one of these nobles of England. Don't put me
down with them, Caskoden, if you would remain my
friend."
j_ We koth laughed at this^sort of talk, which was a little
The Princess Mary 23
in advance of the time, for a noble, though an idiot, to the
most of England was a noble still, God-created and to be
adored.
Another great bond of sympathy between Brandon and
myself was a community of opinion concerning certain the-
ories as to the equality of men and tolerance of religious
thought. We believed that these things would yet come,
in spite of kingcraft and priestcraft, but wisely kept our
pet theories to ourselves ; that is, between ourselves.
Of what use is it to argue the equality of human kind to
a man who honestly thinks he is better than any one else,
or to one who really believes that some one else is better
than he; and why dispute about the various ways of
saving one's soul, when you are not even sure you have a
soul to save ? When I open my mouth for public utterance,
the king is the best man in Christendom, and his premier
peer of the realm the next best. When the king is a Cath-
olic I go to Mass ; since, praised be the Lord, I have brains
enough not to let my head interfere with the set ways of a
stone wall.
Now, when Mary returned the whole court rejoiced, and
I was anxious for Brandon to meet her and that they should
become friends. There would be no trouble in bringing
this meeting about, since, as you know, I was upon terms
of intimate friendship with Mary, and was the avowed,
and, as I thought, at least hoped, all but accepted lover of
her first lady in waiting and dearest friend, Lady Jane
Bolingbroke. Brandon, it is true, was not noble; not
even an English knight, while I was both knighted and
noble; but he was of as old a family as England boasted,
and near of kin to some of the best blood of the land. The
meeting came about sooner than I expected, and was very
near a failure. It was on the second morning after Mary's
arrival at Greenwich. Brandon and I were walking in the
palace park when we met Jane, and I took the opportunity
to make these, my two best-loved friends, acquainted.
" How do you do, Master Brandon?" said Lady Jane,
holding out her plump little hand, so white and soft, and
dear to me. " I have heard something of you the last day
or so from Sir Edwin, but had begun to fear he was not going
»4 When Knighthood Was In Flower
to give me the pleasure of knowing you. I hope I may
see you often now. and that I may present you to my mis-
tress."
With this, her eyes, bright as overgrown dewdrops,
twinkled with a mischievous little smile, as if to say: "Ah,
another large handsome fellow to make a fool of him-
self."
Brandon acquiesced in the wish she had made, and, after
the interchange of a few words, Jane said her mistress was
waiting at the other side of the grounds, and that she must
go. She then ran off with a laugh and a courtesy, and
was soon lost to sight behind the shrubbery at the turning
of the walk.
In a short time we came to a summer house near the
marble boat-landing, where we found the queen and some
of her ladies awaiting the rest of their party for a trip down
the river, which had been planned the day before. Bran-
don was known to the queen and several of the ladies, al-
though he had not been formally presented at an audience.
Many of the king's friends enjoyed a considerable intimacy
with the whole court without ever receiving the public
stamp of recognition, socially, which goes with a formal
presentation.
The queen, seeing us, sent me off to bring the king.
After I had gone, she asked if any one had seen the Prin-
cess Mary, and Brandon told her Lady Jane had said she
was at the other side of the grounds. Thereupon her
Majesty asked Brandon to find the princess and to say that
she was wanted.
Brandon started off and soon found a bevy of girls sit-
ting on some benches under a spreading oak, weaving spring
flowers. He had never seen the princess, so could not pos-
itively know her. As a matter of fact, he did know her,
as soon as his eyes rested on her, for she could not be mis-
taken among a thousand — there was no one like her or any-
thing near it. Some stubborn spirit of opposition, how-
ever, prompted him to pretend ignorance. All that he had
heard of her wonderful power over men, and the servile
manner in which they fell before her, had aroused in him
a spirit of antagonism, and had begotten a kind of distaste
'HAVE I THE HONOR TO
FIND THE PRINCESS?" p. 25
The Princess Mary 25
beforehand. He was wrong in this, because Mary was not
a coquette in any sense of the word, and did absolutely
nothing to attract men, except to be so beautiful, sweet and
winning that they could not let her alone ; for all of which
surely the prince of fault-finders himself could in no way
blame her.
She could not help it that God had seen fit to make her
the fairest being on earth, and the responsibility would have
to lie where it belonged — with God; Mary would have
none of it. Her attractiveness was not a matter of volition
or intention on her part. She was too young for deliberate
snare-setting — though it often begins very early in life —
and made no effort to attract men. Man's love was too
cheap a thing for her to strive for, and I am sure, in her
heart, she would infinitely have preferred to live without
it — that is, until the right one should come. The right one
is always on his way, and, first or last, is sure to come to
every woman— sometimes, alas! too late — and when he
comes, be it late or early, she crowns him, even though he
be a long-eared ass. Blessed crown! and thrice-blessed
blindness — else there were fewer coronations.
So Brandon stirred this antagonism and determined not
to see her manifold perfections, which he felt sure were
exaggerated ; but to treat her as he would the queen — who
was black and leathery enough to frighten a satyr — with all
respect due to her rank, but with his own opinion of her
nevertheless, safely stored away in the back of his head.
Coming up to the group Brandon took off his hat, and,
with a graceful little bow that let the curls fall around his
face, asked : " Have I the honor to find the Princess Mary
among these ladies?"
Mary, whom I know you will at once say was thor-
oughly spoiled, without turning her face toward him, re-
plied :
uls the Princess Mary a person of so little consequence
about the court that she is not known to a mighty captain
of the guard?"
He wore his guardsman's doublet, and she knew his
rank by his uniform. She had not noticed his face.
k Quick as a flash came the answer: u I can not say of
26 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
what consequence the Princess Mary is about the court ; it
is not my place to determine such matters. I am sure,
however, she is not here, for I doubt not she would have
given a gentle answer to a message from the queen. 1
shall continue my search." With this, he turned to leave,
and the ladies, including Jane, who was there and saw it
all and told me of it, awaited the bolt they knew would
come, for they saw the lightning gathering in Mary's eyes.
Mary sprang to her feet with an angry flush in her face,
exclaiming, " Insolent fellow, I am the Princess Mary; if
you have a message, deliver it and be gone." You may
be sure this sort of treatment was such as the cool-headed,
daring Brandon would repay with usury ; so, turning upon
his heel, and almost presenting his back to Mary, he spoke
to Lady Jane :
"Will your ladyship say to her highness that her majesty,
the queen, awaits her coming at the marble landing?"
"No need to repeat the message, Jane," cried Mary;
"I have ears and can hear for myself." Then turning to
Brandon: " If your insolence will permit you to receive
a message from so insignificant a person as the king's
sister, I beg you to say to the queen that I shall be with
her presently."
He did not turn his face toward Mary, but bowed again
to Jane.
4 ' May I ask your ladyship further to say for me that if
I have been guilty of any discourtesy I greatly regret it.
My failure to recognize the Princess Mary grew out of my
misfortune in never having been allowed to bask in the
light of her countenance. I can not believe the fault lies
at my door, and hope for her own sake that her highness,
upon second thought, will realize how ungentle and unkind
some one else has been." And with a sweeping courtesy
he walked quickly down the path.
"The insolent wretch! " cried one.
" He ought to hold papers on the pillory," said another.
"Nothing of the sort," broke in sensible, fearless, little
Jane ; "I think the Lady Mary was wrong. He could not
have known her by inspiration. "
"Jane is right," exclaimed Mary, whose temper, if short,
The Princess Mary 27
was also short-lived, and whose kindly heart always set her
right if she but gave it a little time. Her faults were
rather those of education than of nature. "Jane is right;
it was what I deserved. I did not think when I spoke, and
did not really mean it as it sounded. He acted like a man,
and looked like one, too, when he defended himself. I
warrant the pope at Rome could not run over him with
impunity. For once I have found a real live man, full
of manliness. I saw him in the lists at Windsor a week
ago, but the king said his name was a secret, and I could
not learn it. He seemed to know you, Jane. Who is he?
Now tell us all you know. The queen can wait."
And her majesty waited on a girl's curiosity.
I had told Jane all I knew about Brandon, so she was
prepared, with full information, and gave it. She told the
princess who he was ; of his terrible duel with Judson ;
his bravery and adventures in the wars ; his generous gift
to his brother and sisters, and lastly, "Sir Edwin says he
is the best-read man in the court, and the bravest, truest
heart in Christendom."
After Jane's account of Brandon, they all started by
a roundabout way for the marble landing. In a few mo-
ments whom did they see, coming toward them down the
path, but Brandon, who had delivered his message and con-
tinued his walk. When he saw whom he was about to
meet, he quietly turned in another direction. The Lady
Mary had seen him, however, and told Jane to run forward
and bring him to her. She soon overtook him and said :
u Master Brandon, the princess wishes to see you."
Then, maliciously, "You will suffer this time. I assure
you she is not used to such treatment. It was glorious,
though, to see you resent such an affront. Men usually
smirk and smile foolishly and thank her when she smites
them."
Brandon was disinclined to return.
"I am not in her highness's command," he answered,
•* and do not care to go back for a reprimand when I am in
no way to blame."
u Oh, but you must come; perhaps she will not scold
this time," and she put her hand upon his arm, and laugh-
28 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
ingly drew him along. Brandon, of course, had to sub-
mit when led by so sweet a captor— anybody would. So
fresh, and fair, and lovable was Jane, that I am sure any-
thing masculine must have given way.
Coming up to the princess and her ladies, who were
waiting, Jane said, "Lady Mary, let me present Master
Brandon, who, if he has offended in any way, humbly sues
for pardon." That was the one thing Brandon had no
notion on earth of doing, but he let it go as Jane had put
it, and this was his reward :
" It is not Master Brandon who should sue for pardon/"
responded the princess, " it is I who was wrong. I blush
for what I did and said. Forgive me, sir, and let us start
anew." At this she stepped up to Brandon and offered
him her hand, which he, dropping to his knee, kissed
most gallantly.
44 Your highness, you can well afford to offend when you
have so sweet and gracious a talent for making amends ;
*A wrong acknowledged,' as some one has said, 'becomes
an obligation.' " He looked straight into the girl's eyes
as he said this, and his gaze was altogether too strong for
her, so the lashes fell. She flushed and said with a smile
that brought the dimples :
"I thank you; that is a real compliment." Then laugh-
ingly: "Much better than extravagant comments on one's
skin, and eyes, and hair. We are going to the queen at
the marble landing; will you walk with us, sir?" And
they strolled away together, while the other girls followed
in a whispering, laughing group.
Was there ever so glorious a calm after such a storm ?
"Then those mythological compliments," continued
Mary, "don't you dislike them?"
" I can't say that I have ever received many — none that
I recall," replied Brandon, with a perfectly straight face,
but with a smile trying its best to break out.
"Oh! you have not? Well! how would you like to
have somebody always telling you that Apollo was hump-
backed and misshapen compared with you ; that Endymion
would have covered his face had he but seen yours, and
soon?"
The Princess Mary 29
*' i don't know, but I think I should like it— from some
persons," he replied, looking ever so innocent.
This savored of familiarity after so brief an acquaintance,
and caused the princess to glance up in slight surprise ; but
only for the instant, for his innocent look disarmed her.
"I have a mind to see," she returned, laughing and
throwing her head back, as she looked up at him out of the
comer of her lustrous eyes. But I will pay you a bettei
compliment. I positively thank you for the rebuke. I do
many things like that, for which I am always sorry. Oh!
you don't know how difficult it is to be a good princess."
And she shook her head, with a gathering of little trouble-
wrinkles in her forehead, as much as to say, ** There is no
getting away from it, though." Then she breathed a soft
little sigh of tribulation as they walked on.
" I know it must be a task to be good when everybody
flatters even one's shortcomings," said Brandon, and then
continued in a way that, I am free to confess, was some-
thing priggish. "It is almost impossible for us to see our
own faults, even when others are kind enough to point
them out, for they are right ugly things and unpleasant
to look upon. But lacking those outside monitors, one
must all the more cultivate the habit of constant inlooking
and self-examination. If we are only brave enough to con-
front our faults and look them in the face, ugly as they are,
we shall be sure to overcome the worst of them. A
striving toward good will achieve at least a part of it."
"Oh I" retumed the princess, " but what is good and
what is wrong? So often we can not tell them apart un-
til we look back at what we have done, and then it is all
too late. I truly wish to be good more than 1 desire any-
thing else in the world. I am so ignorant and helpless,
and have such strong inclinations to do wrong that some-
times I seem to be almost all wrong. The priests say so
much, but tell us so little. They talk about St. Peter and
St. Paul, and a host of other saints and holy fathers and
what nots, but fail to tell us what we need every
moment of our lives; that is, how to know the right
when we see it, and how to do it ; and how to know the
wrong and how avoid it. They ask us to believe so
3® When Knighthood Was In Flower
much, and insist that faith is the sum of virtue, and the
lack of it the sum of sin ; that to faith all things are added ;
but we might believe every syllable of their whole disturb-
ing creed, and then spoil it all through blind ignorance of
what is right and what is wrong."
"As to knowing right and wrong," replied Brandon, UI
think I can give you a rule which, although it may not
cover the whole ground, is excellent for every-day use. It
is this : Whatever makes others unhappy is wrong ; what-
ever makes the world happier is good. As to how we are
always to do this, I can not tell you. One has to learn
that by trying. We can but try, and if we fail altogether,
there is still virtue in even futile effort toward the right."
Mary bent her head as she walked along in thought.
u What you have said is the only approach to a rule for
knowing and doing the right, I have ever heard. (Now
what do you think of me as a flatterer?) But it will do no
good ; the bad is in me too strong ; it always does itself
before I can apply any rule, or even realize what is com-
ing." And again she shook her head with a bewitching
little look of trouble.
"Pardon me, your highness ; but there is no bad in you.
It has been put on you by others, and is all on the outside ;
there is none of it in your heart at all. That evil which you
think comes out of you, simply falls off you ; your heart
is all right, or I have greatly misjudged you." He was
treating her almost as if she were a child.
"I fear, Master Brandon, you are the most adroit flat-
terer of all," said Mary, shaking her head and looking up
at him with a side glance, "people have deluged me with
all kinds of flattery — I have the different sorts listed and
labeled — but no one has ever gone to the extravagant length
of calling me good. Perhaps they think I do not care for
that; but I like it best. I don't like the others at all. If
I am beautiful or not, it is as God made me, and I have
nothing to do with it, and desire no credit, but if I could
only be good it might be my own doing, perhaps, and I
ought to have praise. I wonder if there is really and truly
any good in me, and if you have read me aright." Then
The Princess Mary 31
ooking up at him with a touch of consternation : ** Or
ire you laughing at me?"
Brandon wisely let the last suggestion pass unnoticed.
44 1 am sure that I am right; you have glorious capacities
or good, but alas ! corresponding possibilities for evil. It
will eventually all depend upon the man you marry. He
can make out of you a perfect woman, or the reverse/'
Again there was the surprised expression in Mary's face,
but Brandon's serious look disarmed her.
44 1 fear you are right, as to the reverse, at any rate;
i and the worst of it is, I shall never be able to choose a
man to help me, but shall sooner or later be compelled to
marry the creature who will pay the greatest price."
44 God forbid!" said Brandon reverently.
They were growing rather serious, so Mary turned the
conversation again into the laughing mood, and said, with
a half sigh: 4t Oh! I hope your are right about the pos-
sibilities for good, but you do not know. Wait until you
have seen more of me."
"I certainly hope I shall not have long to wait."
The surprised eyes again glanced quickly up to the se*
rious face, but the answer came : 4l That you shall not;—
but here is the queen, and I suppose we must have the
benediction." Brandon understood her hint — that the
preaching was over, — and taking it for his dismissal, play-
fully lifted his hands in imitation of the old Bishop of
Canterbury, and murmured the first line of the Latin bene-
diction. Then they both laughed and courtesied, and
Brandon walked away.
CHAPTER IV
A Lesson In Dancing
I LAUGHED heartily when Jane told me of the tilt be-
tween Brandon and Princess Mary, the latter of whom
was in the habit of saying unkind things and being
thanked for them.
Brandon was the wrong man to say them to, as Mary
learned. He was not hot-tempered ; in fact, just the re-
verse, but he was the last man to brook an affront, and the
quickest to resent, in a cool-headed, dangerous way, an in-
tentional offense.
He respected himself and made others do the same, or
seem to do so, at least. He had no vanity — which is but
an inordinate desire for those qualities that bring self-re-
spect, and often the result of conscious demerit — but he
knew himself, and knew that he was entitled to his own
good opinion. He was every inch a man, strong, intelli-
gent and brave to temerity, with a reckless disregard of con-
sequences, which might have been dangerous had it not
been tempered by a dash of prudence and caution that
gave him ballast.
I was not surprised when I heard of the encounter ; for
I knew enough of him to be sure that Mary's high-handed-
ness would meet its counterpart in my cool friend Brandon.
It was, however, an unfortunate victory, and what all
Mary's beauty and brightness would have failed to do, her
honest, open acknowledgment of wrong, following so
quickly upon the heels of her fault, accomplished easily.
It drew him within the circle of her fatal attractions, and
when Jane told me of it, I knew his fate was sealed, and
(3*)
A Lesson In Dancing 33
that, sooner or later, his untouched heart and cool head
would fall victim to the shafts that so surely winged all
others.
It might, and probably would be, " later," since, as Bran-
don had said, he was not one of those who wore his heart
upon his sleeve. Then he had that strong vein of pru-
dence and caution, which, in view of Mary's unattaina-
bleness, would probably come to his help. But never was
man's heart strong enough to resist Mary Tudor 's smile for
long-
There was this difference between Brandon and most
others ; he would be slow to love, but when love should
once fairly take root in his intense nature, he would not do
to trifle with.
The night after the meeting, Mary cuddled up to Jane,
who slept with her, and whispered, half bashfully:
" Tell me all about Brandon ; I am interested in him. I
believe if I knew more persons like him I should be a bet-
ter girl, notwithstanding he is one of the boldest men I
ever knew. He says anything he wishes, and, with all his
modest manner, is as cool with me as if I were a burgher's
daughter. His modesty is all on the outside, but it is
pretty, and pretty things must be on the outside to be
useful. I wonder if Judson thought him modest?"
Jane talked of Brandon to Mary, who was in an excel-
lent humor, until the girls fell asleep.
When Jane told me of this I became frightened ; for the
surest way to any woman's heart is to convince her that
you make her better, and arouse in her breast purer im-
pulses and higher aspirations. It would be bad enough
should Brandon fall in love with the princess, which was
almost sure to happen, but for them to fall in love with
each other meant Brandon's head upon the block, and
Mary's heart bruised, broken and empty for life. Her
strong nature, filled to the brim with latent passion, was
the stuff of which love makes a conflagration that burns to
destruction; and should she learn to love Brandon, she
would move heaven and earth to possess him.
She whose every desire from childhood up had been
3
34 "When Knighthood Was In Flower
gratified, whose every whim seemed to her a paramount
necessity, would stop at nothing when the dearest wish a
woman's heart can coin was to be gained or lost. Bran-
don's element of prudence might help him, and might
forestall any effort on his part to win her, but Mary had
never heard of prudence, and man's caution avails but lit-
tle when set against woman's daring. In case they both
should love, they were sure to try for each other, and in
trying were equally sure to find ruin and desolation.
A few evenings after this I met the princess in the
queen's drawing-room. She beckoned me to her, and
resting her elbows on the top of a cabinet, her chin in her
hands, said: "I met your friend, Captain Brandon, a day
or two ago. Did he tell you?"
11 No, I answered; "Jane told me, but he has not
mentioned it."
It was true Brandon had not said a word of the mat-
ter, and I had not spoken of it, either. I wanted to see
how long he would remain silent concerning an adven-
ture that would have set most men of the court boasting
away at a great rate. To have a tilt with the ever-vic-
torious Mary, and to come off victor, was enough, I think,
to loosen any tongue less given to bragging than Brandon's.
"So," continued Mary, evidently somewhat piqued,
u he did not think his presentation to me a thing worth
mentioning? We had a little passage-at-arms, and, to
tell you the truth, I came off second best, and had to
acknowledge it, too. Now what do you think of this new
friend of yours ? And he did not boast about having the
better of me ? After all there is more virtue in his silence
than I at first thought." And she threw back her head,
and clapped her hands and laughed with the most conta-
gious little ripple you ever heard. She seemed not to
grieve over her defeat, but dimpled as though it were a huge
joke, the thought of which rather pleased her than other-
wise. Victory had grown stale for her, although so young.
" What do I think of my new friend?" I repeated after
her; and that gave me a theme upon which I could en-
large eloquently. I told her of his learning, notwithstand-
A Lesson In Dancing 35
ing the fact that he had been in the continental wars ever
since he was a boy. I repeated to her stories of his dar-
ing and bravery, that had been told to me by his uncle,
the Master of the Horse, and others, and then I added
what I knew Lady Jane had already said. I had expected
to be brief, but to my surprise found a close and interested
listener, even to the twice-told parts, and drew my story
out a little, to the liking of us both.
"Your friend has an earnest advocate in you, Sir Ed-
win," said the princess.
" That he has," I replied. " There is nothing too good
to say of him."
I knew that Mary, with her better, clearer brain, held
the king almost in the palm of her hand, so I thought to
advance Brandon's fortune by a timely word.
"I trust the king will see fit to favor him, and hope that
you will speak a word in his behalf should the opportunity
occur."
" What in the name of heaven have we to give him?"
cried Mary, impatiently, for she kept an eye on things po-
litical, even if she were only a girl — " the king has given
away everything that can be given, already, and now that
the war is over, and men are coming home, there are hun-
dreds waiting for more. My father's great treasure is
squandered, to say nothing of the money collected from
Empson, Dudley and the other commissioners. There
is nothing to give unless it be the titles and estate of the
late Duke of Suffolk. Perhaps the king will give these to
your paragon, if you will paint him in as fair a light as
you have drawn him for me." Then throwing back her
head with a laugh, "Ask him."
** It would be none too much for his deserts," I replied,
falling in with her humor.
"We will so arrange it then," went on Mary banter-
ingly; " Captain Brandon no longer, but Charles Bran-
don, Duke of Suffolk. How sounds it Master Caskoden ?"
"Sweet in my ears," I replied.
"I really believe you would have the king's crown for
him, you absurd man, if you could get it. We must have
*o interesting a person at court ; I shall at least see that he
3$ When Knighthood Was In Flower
is presented to the queen at once. I wonder if he dances.
I suppose not. He has probably been too busy cutting and
thrusting." And she laughed again at her own pleasantry.
When the mirth began to gather in her face and the
dimples came responsive to her smiles ; when she threw
back her perfectly poised head, stretching her soft, white
throat, so full and round and beautiful, half closing her
big brown eyes till they shone again from beneath the
shade of those long, black sweeping lashes ; when her red
lips parted, showing her teeth of pearl, and she gave the
Sittle clap of her hands — a sort of climax to the soft, low,
tippling laugh — she made a picture of such exquisite love-
liness that it is no wonder men were fools about her, and
caught love as one catches a contagion. I had it once, as
you already know, and had recovered. All that prevented
a daily relapse was my fair sweet antidote, Jane, whose
image rested in my heart, a lasting safeguard.
" I wonder if your prodigy plays cards; that is, such as
we ladies play?" asked Mary. "You say he has lived
much in France where the game was invented, but I have
no doubt he would scorn to waste his time at so frivolous a
pursuit, when he might be slaughtering armies single-
handed and alone."
u I do not know as to his dancing and card-playing, but
I dare venture a wager he does both," I replied, not liking
her tone of sarcasm. She had yet to learn who Brandon
was.
" 1 will hazard ten crowns," said Mary quickly, for she
loved a wager and was a born gambler.
4 * Taken," said I.
" We will try him on both to-morrow night in my draw-
ing-room," she continued. " You bring him up, but tell
no one. I will have Jane there with her lute, which will
not frighten you away I know, and we will try his step. I
will have cards, too, and we shall see what he can do at
triumph. Just we four — no one else at all. You and
Jane, the new Duke of Suffolk and I. Oh ! I can hardly
wait," and she fairly danced with joyous anticipation.
The thing had enough irregularity to give it zest, for
while Mary often had a few young people in her drawing-
A Lesson In Dancing 37
room the companies were never so small as two couples
only, and the king and queen, to make up for greater
faults, were wonderful sticklers in the matter of little pro-
prieties.
The ten-crown wager, too, gave spice to it, but to do
her justice she cared very little for that. The princess
loved gambling purely for gambling's sake, and with her,
the next best thing to winning was losing.
When I went to my room that night, I awakened Bran-
don and told him of the distinguished honor that awaited
him.
"Well! I'll be" — but he did not say what he would
" be." He always halted before an oath, unless angry,
which was seldom, but then beware ! — he had learned to
swear in Flanders. u How she did fly at me the other
morning; I never was more surprised in all my life. For
once I was almost caught with my guard down, and did
not know how to parry the thrust. I mumbled over some
sort of a lame retaliation and beat a retreat. It was so
unjust and uncalled for that it made me angry ; but she was
so gracious in her amends that I was almost glad it hap-
pened. I like a woman who can be as savage as the very
devil when it pleases her ; she usually has in store an as*
sortment of possibilities for the other extreme."
"She told me of your encounter," I returned, ubut
said she had come 06 second best, and seemed to think
her overthrow a huge joke."
11 The man who learns to know what a woman thinks
and feels will have a great deal of valuable information,"
he replied ; and then turned over for sleep, greatly pleased
that one woman thought as she did.
1 was not sure he would be so highly flattered if he
knew that he ha4 been invited to settle a wager, and to
help Mary to a little sport.
As to the former, I had an interest there myself, although
I dared not settle the question by asking Brandon if he
played cards and danced ; and, as to the matter of Mary's
sport, I felt there was but little, if any, danger, of her hav-
ing too much of it at his expense, Brandon being well able
to care for himself in that respect
38 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
The next evening, at the appointed time, we wended our
way, by an unfrequented route, and presented ourselves,
as secretly as possible, at the drawing-room of the prin-
cess.
The door was opened by Lady Jane, and we met the two
girls almost at the threshold. I had told Brandon of the
bantering conversation about the title and estates of the
late Duke of Suffolk, and he had laughed over it in the best
of humor. If quick to retaliate for an intentional offense,
he was not thin-skinned at a piece of pleasantry, and had
none of that stiff, sensitive dignity, so troublesome to one's
self and friends.
Now, Jane and Mary were always bantering me be-
cause I was short, and inclined to be — in fact — round, but
I did not care. It made them laugh, and their laughing
was so contagious, it made me laugh too, and we all en-
joyed it. I would give a pound sterling any time for a
good laugh ; and that, I think, is why I have always been—*
round.
So, upon entering, I said:
"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, ladies."
They each made a sweeping courtesy, with hand on
breast, and gravely saluted him :
" Your Grace! Good even'."
Brandon's bow was as deep and graceful, if that were
possible, as theirs, and when he moved on into the room it
was with a little halt in his step, and a big blowing out of
the cheeks, in ludicrous imitation of his late lamented pred-
ecessor, that sent the girls into peals of soft laughter and
put us all at our ease immediately.
Ah ! what a thing it is to look back upon ; that time of
life when one finds his heaven in a ready laugh !
1 'Be seated all," said the princess. "This is to be
without ceremony, and only we four. No one knows a
word of it. Did you tell anyone, Sir Edwin?"
"Perish the thought," I exclaimed.
She turned her face toward Brandon, " — but I know
you did not. I've heard how discreet you were about an-
other matter. Well, no one knows it then, and we can
have a famous evening. You did not expect this, Master
A Lesson In Dancing 39
Brandon, after my reception of you the other morning?
Were you not surprised when Sir Edwin told you? "
" I think I can safely say that I was prepared not to be
surprised at anything your highness might graciously con-
clude to do— after my first experience," he answered, smil-
ing.
4 'Indeed?" returned Mary with elevated eyebrows,
and a rising inflection on the last syllable of the word.
It was now her turn for a little surprise. " Well, we'll
try to find some way to surprise you one of these
days;" and the time came when she was full of surprises
for him. Mary continued : "But let us not talk about
the other day. Of what use are * other days ' any-
way? Before the evening is over Master Brandon, we
want you to give us another sermon," and she laughed,
setting off three other laughs as hearty and sincere as if
she had uttered the rarest witticism on earth.
The princess had told Jane and Jane had told me of the
" Sermon in the Park," as Mary called it.
"Jane needs it as much as I," said the princess.
"I can't believe that," responded Brandon, looking at
Jane with a softening glance quite too admiring and com-
mendatory to suit me ; for I was a jealous little devil.
The eyebrows went up again.
"Oh! you think she doesn't? Well! in truth, Mas-
ter Brandon, there is one failing that can not be laid
at your door; you are no flatterer." For answer Brandon
laughed and that gave us the cue, and away we went
in a rippling chorus, all about nothing. Some persons
may call our laughter foolish, but there are others who
consider it the height of all wisdom. St. George! I'd
give my Garter for just one other laugh like that ; for just
one other hour of youth's dancing blood and glowing
soul- warmth ; of sweet, unconscious, happy heart-beat and
paradise-creating joy in everything.
After a few minutes of gay conversation, in which we
all joined, Mary asked: " What shall we do? Will one
of you suggest something?"
Jane sat there looking so demure you would have thought
mischief could not live within a league of her, but those
40 When Knighthood "Was In Rower
very demure girls are nearly always dangerous. She said,
ohl so innocently:
" Would you like to dance? If so, I will play." And
she reached for her lute which was by her side.
" Yes, that will be delightful. Master Brandon, will
you dance with me?" asked the princess, with a saucy lit-
tle laugh, her invitation meaning so much more to three of
us than to Brandon. Jane and I joined in the laugh, and
when Mary clapped her hands that set Brandon off too,
for he thought it the quaintest, prettiest little gesture in
the world, and was all unconscious that our laugh was at
his expense.
Brandon did not answer Mary's invitation — the fit of
laughter had probably put it out of his mind — so she, evi-
dently anxious to win or lose her wager at once, again asked
him if he danced.
44 Oh, pardon me. Of course. Thank you." And he
was on his feet beside her chair in an instant ready for the
dance. This time the girl's laugh, though equally merry,
had another tone, for she knew she had lost.
Out they stepped upon the polished floor, he holding
her hand in his, awaiting the pause in the music to take
the step. I shall never forget the sight of those two
standing there together — Mary, dark-eyed and glowing;
Brandon, almost rosy, with eyes that held the color of a
deep spring sky, and a wealth of flowing curls crowning
his six feet of perfect manhood, strong and vigorous as a
young lion. Mary, full of beauty-curves and graces, a
veritable Venus in her teens, and Brandon, an Apollo,
with a touch of Hercules, were a complement each to the
other that would surely make a perfect one.
When the music started, off they went, heel and toe,
bow and courtesy, a step forward and a step back, in per-
fect time and rhythm — a poem of human motion. Could
Brandon dance ? The princess had her answer in the first
ten steps. Nothing could be more graceful than Brandon's
dancing, unless it were Mary's. Her slightest movement
was grace itself. When she would throw herself back-
ward in thrusting out her toe, and then swing forward
wlch her head a little to one side, her uplifted arm undu-
A Lesson In Dancing: 41
lating like the white neck of a swan, — for her sleeve,
which was slit to the shoulder, fell back and left it bare,—
she was a sight worth a long journey to see. And when
she looked up to Brandon with a laugh in her brown eyes,
and a curving smile just parting her full, red lips, that a
man would give his very luck to— but I had better stop.
"Was there ever a goodlier couple?" I asked of Jane,
by whose side I sat.
1 'Never/' she responded as she played, and, strange to
say, I was jealous because she agreed with me. I was
jealous because I feared it was Brandon's beauty to which
she referred. That I thought would naturally appeal to
her. Had he been less handsome, I should perhaps have
thought nothing of it, but I knew what my feelings were
toward Mary, and I judged, or rather misjudged, Jane by
myself. I supposed she would think of Brandon as I
could not help thinking of Mary. Was anything in heav-
en or earth ever so beautiful as that royal creature, dancing
there, daintily holding up her skirts with thumb and first
finger just far enough to show a distracting little foot and
ankle, and make one wish he had been born a sheep rather
than a sentient man who had to live without Mary Tudor ?
Yet, strange as it may seem, I was really and wholly in
love with Jane; in fact, I loved no one but Jane, and my
feeling of intense admiration for Mary was but a part of
man's composite inconstancy.
A woman — God bless her — if she really loves a man,
has no thought of any other ; one at a time is all-sufficient ;
but a man may love one woman with the warmth of a
simoon, and at the same time feel like a good healthy
south wind toward a dozen others. That is the difference
between a man and a woman — the difference between the
good and the bad. One average woman has enough good-
ness in her to supply an army of men.
Mary and Brandon went on dancing long after Jane was
tired of playing. It was plain to see that the girl was thor-
oughly enjoying it. They kept up a running fire of small
talk, and laughed, and smiled, and bowed, and courtesied,
all in perfect time and grace.
It is more difficult than you may think, if you have never
43 When Knighthood Was In Flower
tried, to keep up a conversation and dance La Galliard, at
the same time— one is apt to balk the other — but Brandon's
dancing was as easy to him as walking, and, although so
small a matter, I could see it raised him vastly in the esti-
mation of both girls.
44 Do you play triumph?" I heard Mary ask in the
midst of the dancing.
44 Oh! yes," replied Brandon, much to my delight, as
the princess threw a mischievous, knowing glance over her
shoulder to see if I had heard. She at once saw I had,
and this, of course, settled the wager.
44 And," continued Brandon, *' I also play the new game,
4 honor and ruff,' which is more interesting than triumph."
4 4 Oh I do you ?' ' cried Mary. 4 4 That will more than com-
pensate for the loss of my ten crowns. Let us sit down at
once ; I have been wishing to learn, but no one here seems
to know it. In France, they say, it is the only game. I
suppose there is where you learned it ? Perhaps you know
their new dances too! I have heard they are delightful."
44 Yes, I know them," replied Brandon.
44 Why, you are a perfect treasure; teach me at once.
How now, Master of the Dance ? Here is your friend out-
doing you in your own line."
44 1 am glad to hear it," I returned.
44 If Lady Jane will kindly play some lively air, written
in the time of 4 The Sailor Lass,' I will teach the Lady
Mary the new dance," said Brandon.
Jane threw one plump little knee over the other and
struck up 4t The Sailor Lass." After she had adjusted the
playing to Brandon's suggestion, he stepped deliberately
in front of Mary, and, taking her right hand in his left, en-
circled her waist with his right arm. The girl was startled
at first and drew away. This nettled Brandon a little, and
he showed it plainly.
44 1 thought you wished me to teach you the new dance?"
he said.
44 1 do, but — but I did not know it was danced that way,"
she replied with a fluttering little laugh, looking up into
his face with a half shy, half apologetic manner, and then
dropping her lashes before his gaze.
A Lesson In Dancing; 43
"Oh, well!" said Brandon, with a Frenchman's shrug
of the shoulders, and then moved off as if about to leave
the floor.
"But is that really the way you — they dance it? With
your — their arm around my — a lady's waist? "
"I should not have dared venture upon such a familiarity
otherwise," answered Brandon, with a glimmer of a smile
playing around his lips and hiding in his eyes.
Mary saw this shadowy smile, and said: "Oh! I fear
your modesty will cause you hurt ; I am beginning to be-
lieve you would dare do anything you wish. I more than
half suspect you are a very bold man, notwithstanding
your smooth, modest manner."
" You do me foul wrong, I assure you. I am the soul
of modesty, and grieve that you should think me bold,"
said Brandon, with a broadening smile.
Mary interrupted him. "Now, I do believe you are
laughing at me — at my prudery, I suppose you think it."
Mary would rather have been called a fool than a prude,
and I think she was right. Prudery is no more a sign of
virtue than a wig is of hair. It is usually put on to hide a
bald place.
The princess stood irresolute for a moment in evident
hesitation and annoyance.
",You are grieving because I think you bold! And yet
you stand there laughing at me to my face. I think so
more than ever now. I know it. Oh, you make me an-
gry I Don't! I do not like persons who anger me and
then laugh at me." This turned Brandon's smile into a
laugh which he could not hold back.
Mary's eyes shot fire, and she stamped her foot, exclaim-
ing: "Sir, this goes beyond all bounds; I will not tol-
erate your boldness another moment." I thought she was
going to dismiss him, but she did not. The time had come
when he or she must be the master.
It was a battle royal between the forces on the floor, and
I enjoyed it and felt that Brandon would come out all right.
He said good-humoredly : "What, shall you have all
the laugh in your sleeve at my expense ? Do you expect
to bring me here to win a wager for you, made on the as-
44 When Knighthood Was In Flower
sumption o£ my stupidity and lack of social accomplish-
ments, and then complain when it comes my turn to
laugh ? I think I am the one who should be offended, but
you see I am not."
"Caskoden, did you tell him?" demanded Mary, evi-
dently referring to the wager.
" He said not a word of it," broke in Brandon, answer-
ing for me ; u I should have been a dullard, indeed, not to
have seen it myself after what you said about the loss of
your ten crowns ; so let us cry quits and begin again."
Mary reluctantly struck her flag.
" Very well, I am willing," she said laughingly; "but
as to your boldness, I still insist upon that; I forgive you,
however, this time." Then, half apologetically) "After
all, it is not such a grievous charge to make. I believe it
never yet injured any man with a woman ; they rather like
it, I am afraid, however angry it makes them. Don't they,
Jane?"
Jane, of course, " did not know," so we all laughed, as
usual, upon the slightest pretext, and Mary, that fair bundle
of contradictions and quick transitions, stepped boldly up
to Brandon, with her colors flying in her cheeks, ready for
the first lesson in the new dance.
She was a little frightened at his arm around her waist,
for the embrace was new to her — the first touch of man—-
and was shy and coy, though willing, being determined to
learn the dance. She was an apt pupil and soon glided
softly and gracefully around the room with unfeigned de-
light ; yielding to the new situation more easily as she be-
came accustomed to it.
This dance was livelier exercise than La Galliard, and
Mary could not talk much for lack of breath. Brandon
kept the conversation going though, and she answered with
glances, smiles, nods and monosyllables — a very good vo-
cabulary in its way, and a very good way too, for that mat-
ter.
Once he said something to her, in a low voice, which
brought a flush to her cheeks and caused her to glance
quickly up into his face. By the time her answer came
they were nearer us, and I heard her say: "I am afraid
A Lesson In Dancing 45
I shall have to forgive you again if you are not careful.
Let me see an exhibition of that modesty you so much
boast." But a smile and a flash of the eyes went with the
words, and took all the sting out of them.
After a time the dancers stopped, and Mary, with flushed
face and sparkling eyes, sank into a chair, exclaiming:
"The new dance is delightful, Jane. It is like flying;
your partner helps you so. But what would the king say ?
And the queen ? She would simply swoon with horror.
It is delightful though." Then, with more confusion in
her manner than I had ever before seen: " That is, it is
delightful if one chooses her partner."
This only made matters worse, and gave Brandon an op-
portunity.
44 Dare I hope?" — he asked, with a deferential bow.
u Oh, yes ; you may hope. I tell you frankly it was de-
lightful with you. Now, are you satisfied, my modest
one? Jane, I see we have a forward body here ; no telling
what he will be at next," said Mary, with evident impa-
tience, rapidly swaying her fan. She spoke almost sharp-
ly, for Brandon's attitude was more that of an equal than
she was accustomed to, and her royal dignity, which was
the artificial part of her, rebelled against it now and then
in spite of her real inclinations. The habit of receiving
only adulation, and living on a pinnacle above everybody
else, was so strong from continued practice, that it appealed
to her as a duty to maintain that elevation. She had never
before been called upon to exert herself in that direction,
and the situation was new. The servile ones with whom
she usually associated maintained it for her; so she now
felt, whenever she thought of it, that she was in duty bound
to clamber back, at least part of the way, to her dignity,
however pleasant it was, personally, down below in the
denser atmosphere of informality.
In her heart the princess preferred upon proper occa-
sions, such as this, to abate her dignity, and often request-
ed others to dispense with ceremony, as, in fact, she had
done with us earlier in the evening. But Brandon's easy
manner, although perfectly respectful and elegantly polite,
was very different from anything she had ever known. She
46 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
enjoyed it, but every now and then the sense of her impor-
tance and dignity — for you must remember she was the first
princess of the blood royal — would supersede even her love
of enjoyment, and the girl went down and the princess came
up. Besides, she half feared that Brandon was amusing
himself at her expense, and that, in fact, this was a new sort
of masculine worm. Really, she sometimes doubted if it
were a worm at all, and did not know what to expect, nor
what she ought to do.
She was far more girl than princess, and would have pre-
ferred to remain merely girl and let events take the course
they were going, for she liked it. But there was the other
part of her which was princess, and which kept saying:
" Remember who you are," so she was plainly at a loss
between natural and artifical inclinations contending uncon-
sciously within her.
Replying to Mary's remark over Jane's shoulder, Bran-
don said:
•' Your highness asked us to lay aside ceremony for the
evening, and if I have offended I can but make for my ex-
cuse my desire to please you. Be sure I shall offend no
more." This was said so seriously that his meaning
could not be misunderstood. He did not care whether he
pleased so capricious a person or not.
Mary made no reply, and it looked as if Brandon had
the worst of it.
We sat a few minutes talking, Mary wearing an air of
dignity. Cards were proposed, and as the game progressed
she gradually unbent again and became as affable and
familiar as earlier in the evening. Brandon, however, was
frozen. He was polite, dignified and deferential to the
ladies, but the spirit of the evening was gone, since he
had furnished it all with his free, off-hand manner, full of
life and brightness.
After a short time, Mary's warming mood failing to
thaw our frozen fun-maker, and in her heart infinitely pre-
ferring pleasure to dignity, she said: " Oh, this is weari-
some. Your game is far less entertaining than your new
dance. Do something to make me laugh, Master Bran-
don."
A Lesson la Dancing 47
" I fear you must call in Will Sommers," he replied,
" if you wish to laugh. I can not please you in both ways,
so will hold to the one which seems to suit the princess."
Mary's eyes flashed and she said ironically :
" That sounds very much as though you cared to
please me in any way." Her lips parted and she evidently
had something unkind ready to say ; but she held the breath
she had taken to speak it with, and, after one or two false
starts in as many different lines, continued : " But perhaps
I deserve it. I ask you to forgive me, and hereafter de-
sire you three, upon all proper occasions, when we are by
ourselves, to treat me as one of you — as a woman — a girl,
I mean. Where is the virtue of royalty if it only means
being put upon a pinnacle above all the real pleasures of
life, like foolish old Stylites on his column ? The queen is
always preaching to me about the strict maintenance of my
1 dignity royal,' as she calls it, and perhaps she is right ; but
out upon l dignity royal ' say I ; it is a terrible nuisance. Oh,
you don't know how difficult it is to be a princess and not
a fool. There!" And she sighed in apparent relief.
Then turning to Brandon, "You have taught me an-
other good lesson, sir, and from this hour you are my
friend, if you will be, so long as you are worthy — no, I
do not mean that ; I know you will always be worthy — but
forever. Now we are at rights again. Let us try to re-
main so— that is, I will," and she laughingly gave him her
hand, which he, rising to his feet, bowed low over and
kissed, rather fervently and lingeringly, I thought.
Hand-kissing was new to us in England, excepting in
case of the king and queen at public homage. It was a
little startling to Mary, though she permitted him to hold
her hand much longer than there was any sort of need — a
fact she recognized, as I could easily see from her tell-tale
cheeks, which were rosy with the thought of it.
So it is when a woman goes on the defensive prema-
turely and without causey it makes it harder to apply the
check when the real need comes.
After a little card-playing I expressed regret to Jane
that I could not have a dance with her for lack of music.
^_ " I will play, if the ladies permit," said Brandon ; and he
48 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
took Lady Jane's lute and played and sang some very pretty
little love songs and some comic ones, too, in a style not
often heard in England, so far away from the home of the
troubadour and lute. He was full of surprises, this splen-
did fellow, with his accomplishments and graces.
When we had danced as long as we wished — that is, as
Jane wished — as for myself, I would have been dancing
yet — Mary again asked us to be seated. Jane having
rested, Brandon offered to teach her the new dance, say-
ing he could whistle an air well enough to give her the step.
I at once grew uneasy with jealous suspense, for I did not
wish Brandon to dance in that fashion with Jane, but to
my great relief she replied :
"No; thank you; not to-night." Then shyly glancing
toward me: "Perhaps Sir Edwin will teach me when he
learns. It is his business, you know."
Would I? If a month, night and day, would conquer
it, the new dance was as good as done for already. That
was the first real mark of favor I ever had from Jane.
We now had some songs from Mary and Jane; then
I gave one, and Brandon sang afgain at Mary's re-
quest. We had duets and quartets and solos, and the
songs were all sweet, for they came from the heart of
youth, and went to the soul of youth, rich in its God-given
fresh delight in everything. Then we talked, and Mary,
and Jane, too, with a sly, shy, soft little word now and
then, drew Brandon out to tell of his travels and adven-
tures. He was a pleasing talker, and had a smooth,
easy flow of words, speaking always in a low, clear voice
and with perfect composure. He had a way of looking
first one auditor and then another straight in the eyes with
a magnetic effect that gave to everything he said an added
interest. Although at that time less than twenty-five years
old, he was really a learned man, having studied at Barce-
lona, Salamanca and Paris. While, there had been no
system in his education, his mind was a sort of knowledge
junk-shop, wherein he could find almost anything he want-
ed. He spoke German, French and Spanish, and seemed
to know the literature of all these languages.
He told us he had left home at the early age of six-
A Lesson In Dancing: 49
teen as his uncle's esquire, and had fought in France, then
down in Holland with the Dutch ; had been captured by
the Spanish and had joined the Spanish army, as it mat-
tered not where he fought, so that there was a chance for
honorable achievement and a fair ransom now and then.
He told us how he had gone to Barcelona and Salamanca,
where he had studied, and thence to Granada, among the
Moors ; of his fighting against the pirates of Barbary, his
capture by them, his slavery and adventurous escape ; and
his regret that now drowsy peace kept him mewed up in a
palace.
u It is true," he said, u there is a prospect of trouble
with Scotland, but I would rather fight a pack of howling,
starving wolves than the Scotch ; they fight like very dev-
ils, which, of course, is well but you have nothing after
you have beaten them, not even a good whole wolf skin."
In an unfortunate moment Mary said: "Oh! Master
Brandon, tell us of your duel with Judson."
Thoughtful, considerate Jane frowned at the princess in
surprise, and put her finger on her lips.
u Your ladyship, I fear I can not," he answered, and left
his seat, going over to the window, where he stood, with his
back towards us, looking out into the darkness. Mary
saw what she had done, and her eyes grew moist, for, with
all her faults, she had a warm, tender heart and a quick,
responsive sympathy. After a few seconds of painful si-
lence, she went softly over to the window where Brandon
stood.
'* Sir, forgive me," she said, putting her hand prettily
upon his arm. "I should have known. Believe me, I
would not have hurt you intentionally."
* * Ah ! my lady, the word was thoughtlessly spoken, and
needs no forgiveness ; but your heart shows itself in the
asking, and I thank you ; I wanted but a moment to throw
off the thought of that terrible day." Then they came
back together, and the princess, who had tact enough when
she cared to use it, soon put matters right again.
I started to tell one of my best stories in order to cheer
Brandon, but in the midst of it, Mary, who, I had
4
50 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
noticed, was restless and uneasy, full of blushes and
hesitancy, and with a manner as new to her as the dawn
of the first day was to the awakening world, abruptly
asked Brandon to dance with her again. She had risen
and was standing by her chair, ready to be led out.
44 Gladly," answered Brandon, as he sprung to her side
and took her hand. "Which shall it be, La Galliard or the
new dance?" And Mary standing there, the picture of
waiting, willing modesty, lifted her free hand to his shoul-
der, tried to raise her eyes to his but failed, and softly said :
"The new dance."
This time the dancing was more soberly done, and when
Mary stopped it was with serious, thoughtful eyes, for she
had felt the tingling of a new strange force in Brandon's
touch. A man, not a worm, but a real man, with all the
irresistible infinite attractions that a man may have for a
woman — the subtle drawing of the loadstone for the pas-
sive iron — had come into her life. Doubly sweet it was
to her intense, young virgin soul, in that it first revealed
the dawning of that two-edged bliss which makes a heaven
or a hell of earth — of earth, which owes its very existence
to love.
I do not mean that Mary was in love, but that she had
met, and for the first time felt the touch, yes even the sub-
tle, unconscious, dominating force so sweet to woman, of
the man she could love, and had known the rarest throb
that pulses in that choicest of all God's perfect handiwork
— a woman's heart — the throb that goes before — the John,
the Baptist, as it were, of coming love.
It being after midnight, Mary filled two cups of wine,
from each of which she took a sip, and handed them to
Brandon and me. She then paid me the ten crowns,
very soberly thanked us and said we were at liberty to go.
The only words Brandon ever spoke concerning that
evening were just as we retired :
44 Jesu! she is perfect. But you were wrong, Caskoden.
I can still thank God I am not in love with her. I would
fall upon my sword if I were."
I was upon the point of telling him she had never treated
any other man as she had treated him, but I thought best
A Lesson In Dancing 51
to leave it unsaid. Trouble was apt to come of its own
accord soon enough.
In truth, I may as well tell you, that when the princess
asked me to bring Brandon to her that she might have a
little sport at his expense, she looked for a laugh, but found
a sigh.
CHAPTER V
An Honor and an Enemy
A DAY or two after this, Brandon was commanded to an
audience, and presented to the king and queen. He was now
eligible to all palace entertainments, and would probably
have many invitations, being a favorite with both their
majesties. As to his standing with Mary, who was really
the most important figure, socially, about the court, I could
not exactly say. She was such a mixture of contradictory
impulses and rapid transitions, and was so full of whims
and caprice, the inevitable outgrowth of her blood, her
rank and the adulation amid which she had always lived,
that I could not predict for a day ahead her attitude toward
any one. She had never shown so great favor to any
man as to Brandon, but just how much of her conde-
scension was a mere whim, growing out of the impulse of
the moment, and subject to reaction, I could not tell. I be-
lieved, however, that Brandon stood upon a firmer founda-
tion with this changing, shifting, quicksand of a girl than
with either of their majesties.
In fact I thought he rested upon her heart itself. But to
guess correctly what a girl of that sort will do, or think, or
feel would require inspiration.
Of course most of the entertainments given by the king
and queen included as guests nearly all the court, but Mary
often had little fetes and dancing parties which were smaller,
more select and informal. These parties were really with
the consent and encouragement of the king, to avoid the
responsibility of not inviting everybody. The larger affairs
were very dull and smaller ones might give offense to those
(5=0
An Honor and an Enemy 53
who were left out. The latter, therefore, were turned over
to Mary, who cared very little who was offended or who
was not, and invitations to them were highly valued.
One afternoon, a day or two after Brandon's presenta-
tion, a message arrived from Mary, notifying me that she
would have a little fete that evening in one of the smaller
halls and directing me to be there as Master of the Dance.
Accompanying the message was a note from no less a per-
son than the princess herself, inviting Brandon.
This was an honor indeed — an autograph invitation from
the hand of Mary ! But the masterful rascal did not seem
to consider it anything unusual, and when I handed him the
note upon his return from the hunt, he simply read it care-
lessly over once, tore it in pieces and tossed it away. I be-
lieve the Duke of Buckingham would have given ten thou-
sand crowns to receive such a note, and would doubtless
have shown it to half the court in triumphant confidence
before the middle of the night. To this great captain of
the guard it was but a scrap of paper. He was glad to
have it nevertheless, and, with all his self-restraint and sto-
icism, could not conceal his pleasure.
Brandon at once accepted the invitation in a personal
note to the princess. The boldness of this actually took
my breath, and it seems at first to have startled Mary a
little, also. As you must know by this time, her «* dignity
royal" was subject to alarms, and quite her most trouble-
some attribute — very apt to receive damage in her rela-
tions with Brandon.
Mary did not destroy Brandon's note, despite the fact that
her sense of dignity had been disturbed by it, but after she
had read it slipped off into her private room, read it again
and put it on her escritoire. Soon she picked it up, re-
read it, and, after a little hesitation, put it in her pocket.
It remained in the pocket a moment or two, when out it
came for another perusal, and then she unfastened her
bodice and put it in her bosom. Mary had been so intent
upon what she was doing that she had not seen Jane, who
was sitting quietly in the window, and, when she turned
and saw her, she was so angry she snatched the note from
54 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
her bosom and threw it upon the floor, stamping her foot
in embarrassment and rage.
4 'How dare you watch me, hussy?" she cried. "You
lurk around as still as the grave, and I have to look into
every nook and corner, wherever I go, or have you spying
on me."
" I did not spy upon you, Lady Mary," said Jane quietly.
" Don't answer me ; I know you did. I want you to
be less silent after this. Do you hear? Cough, or sing,
or stumble ; do something, anything, that I may hear you."
Jane rose, picked up the note and offered it to her mis-
tress, who snatched it with one hand, while she gave her a
sharp slap with the other. Jane ran out, and Mary, full of
anger and shame, slammed the door and locked it. The note,
being the cause of all the trouble, she impatiently threw
to the floor again, and went over to the window bench,
where she threw herself down to pout. In the course
of five minutes she turned her head for one fleeting instant
and looked at the note, and then, after a little hesita-
tion, stole over to where she had thrown it and picked it
up. Going back to the light at the window, she held it in
her hand a moment and then read it once, twice, thrice.
The third time brought the smile, and the note nestled in
the bosom again.
Jane did not come off so well, for her mistress did not
speak to her until she called her in that evening to make
her toilet. By that time Mary had forgotten about the
note in her bosom ; so when Jane began to array her for
the dance, it fell to the floor, whereupon both girls broke
into a laugh, and Jane kissed Mary's bare shoulder, and
Mary kissed the top of Jane's head, and they were friends
again.
So Brandon accepted Mary's invitation and went to
Mary's dance, but his going made for him an enemy of
the most powerful nobleman in the realm, and this was the
way of it:
These parties of Mary's had been going on once or
twice a week during the entire winter and spring, and usu-
ally included the same persons. It was a sort of a coterie,
whose members were more or less congenial, and most
'MY LORD HAS DROPPED
HIS SWORD." p. 55
An Honor and an Enemy 55
of them very jealous of interlopers. Strange as it may
seem, uninvited persons often attempted to force them-
selves in, and all sorts of schemes and maneuvers were
adopted to gain admission. To prevent this, two guards-
men with halberds were stationed at the door. Modesty,
I might say, neither thrives nor is useful at court.
When Brandon presented himself at the door his entrance
was barred, but he quickly pushed aside the halberds and
entered. The Duke of Buckingham, a proud, self-im-
portant individual, was standing near the door and saw it
all. Now Buckingham was one of those unfortunate per-
sons who never lose an opportunity to make a mistake,
and being anxious to display his zeal on behalf of the
princess stepped up to prevent Brandon's entrance,
"Sir, you will have to move out of this," he said pom-
pously. "You are not at a jousting bout. You have
made a mistake and have come to the wrong place."
" My Lord of Buckingham is pleased to make rather
more of an ass of himself than usual this evening," replied
Brandon with a smile, as he started across the room to
Mary, whose eye he had caught. She had seen and heard
it all, but in place of coming to his relief stood there laugh-
ing to herself. At this Buckingham grew furious and
ran around ahead of Brandon, valiantly drawing his sword.
" Now, by heaven! fellow, make but another step and
I will run you through," he said.
I saw it all, but could hardly realize what was going on,
it came so quickly and was over so soon. Like a flash
Brandon's sword was out of its sheath, and Buckingham's
blade was flying toward the ceiling. Brandon's sword
was sheathed again so quickly that one could hardly be-
lieve it had been out at all, and, picking up Buckingham's,
he said with a half-smothered laugh :
"My lord has dropped his sword." He then broke its
point with his heel against the hard floor, saying: "I
will dull the point, lest my lord, being unaccustomed to
its use, wound himself." This brought peals of laughter
from everybody, including the king. Mary laughed also,
but, as Brandon was handing Buckingham his blade, came
up and demanded :
5* When Knighthood "Was In Flower
" My lord, is this the way you take it upon yourself to
receive my guests? Who appointed you, let me ask, to
guard my door ? We shall have to omit your name from
our next list, unless you take a few lessons in good man-
ners." This was striking him hard, and the quality of the
man vrill at once appear plain to you when I say that he
had often received worse treatment, but clung to the girl's
skirts all the more tenaciously. Turning to Brandon the
princess said:
44 Master Brandon, I am right glad to see you, and re-
gret exceedingly that our friend of Buckingham should so
thirst for your blood." She then led him to the king and
queen, to whom he made his bow, and the pair continued
their walk about the room. Mary again alluded to the
skirmish at the door, and said laughingly:
"I would have come to your help, but I knew you were
amply able to take care of yourself. I was sure you would
worst the duke in some way. It was better than a mum-
mery, and I was glad to see it. I do not like him."
The king did not open these private balls, as he was
supposed, at least, not to be their patron, and the queen,
who was considerably older than Henry, was averse to
such things. So the princess opened her own balls, danc-
ing for a few minutes with the floor entirely to herself and
partner. It was the honor of the evening to open the ball
with her, and quite curious to see how men put themselves
in her way and stood so as to be easily observed and per-
chance chosen. Brandon, after leaving Mary, had drifted
into a corner of the room back of a group of people, and
was talking to Wolsey — who was always very friendly to
him — and to Master Cavendish, a quaint, quiet, easy little
man, full of learning and kindness, and a warm friend of
the Princess Mary.
It was time to open the ball, and, from my place
in the musicians' gallery, I could see Mary moving about
among the guests, evidently looking for a partner, while
the men resorted to some very transparent and amusing
expedients to attract her attention. The princess, however,
took none of the bidders, and soon, I noticed, she espied
Brandon standing in the corner with his back toward her.
An Honor and an Enemy 57
Something told me she was going to ask him to open the
dance, and I regretted it, because I knew it would set every
nobleman in the house against him, they being very jealous
of the u low-born favorites," as they called the untitled
friends of royalty. Sure enough, I was right. Mary at
once began to make her way over to the corner, and I heard
her say: " Master Brandon, will you dance with me?"
It was done prettily. The whole girl changed as soon
as she found herself in front of him. In place of the old-
time confidence, strongly tinged with arrogance, she was
almost shy, and blushed and stammered with quick coming
breath, like a burgher maid before her new-found gallant.
At once the courtiers made way for her, and out she
walked, leading Brandon by the hand. Upon her lips and
in her eyes was a rare triumphant smile, as if to say:
4 'Look at this handsome new trophy of my bow and
spear."
I was surprised and alarmed when Mary chose Brandon,
but when I turned to the musicians to direct their play,
imagine, if you can, my surprise when the leader said :
"Master, we have our orders for the first dance from the
princess."
Imagine, also, if you can, my double surprise and alarm,
nay, almost my terror, when the band struck up Jane's
u Sailor Lass." I saw the look of surprise and inquiry
which Brandon gave Mary, standing there demurely by his
side, when he first heard the music, and I heard her nerv-
ous little laugh as she nodded her head, "Yes," and
stepped closer to him to take position for the dance. The
next moment she was in Brandon's arms, flying like a sylph
about the room. A buzz of astonishment and delight
greeted them before they were half way around, and then
a great clapping of hands, in which the king himself joined.
It was a lovely sight, although, I think, a graceful woman
5s more beautiful in La Galliard than any other dance, or,
in fact, any other situation in wThich she can place herself.
After a little time the Dowager Duchess of Kent, first
lady in waiting to the queen, presented herself at the musi-
cians' gallery and said that her majesty had ordered the
58 When Knighthood Was In Flower
music stopped, and the musicians, of course, ceased play-
ing at once. Mary thereupon turned quickly to me :
" Master, are our musicians weary that they stop before
we are through?"
The queen answered for me in a high-voiced Spanish
accent: "I ordered the music stopped; I will not permit
such an indecent exhibition to go on longer."
Fire sprang to Mary's eyes and she exclaimed: "If
your majesty does not like the way we do and dance at
my balls you can retire as soon as you see fit. Your face
is a kill-mirth anyway." It never took long to rouse her
ladyship.
The queen turned to Henry, who was laughing, and an-
grily demanded :
4 * Will your majesty permit me to be thus insulted in
your very presence ?"
" You got yourself into it; get out of it as best you can.
I have often told you to let her alone; she has sharp
claws." The king was really tired of Catherine's sour
frown before he married her. It was her dower of Span-
ish gold that brought her a second Tudor husband.
" Shall I not have what music and dances I want at my
own balls?" asked the princess.
" That you shall, sister mine ; that you shall," answered
the king. "Go on master, and if the girl likes to dance
that way, in God's name let her have her wish. It will
never hurt her ; we will learn it ourself , and will wear the
ladies out a-dancing."
After Mary had finished the opening dance there was a
great demand for instruction. The king asked Brandon to
teach him the steps, which he soon learned to perform
with a grace perhaps equaled by no living creature other
than a fat brown bear. The ladies were at first a little
shy and inclined to stand at arm's length, but Mary had
set the fashion and the others soon followed. I had taken
a fiddler to my room and had learned the dance from
Brandon ; and was able to teach it also, though I lacked
practice to make my step perfect. The princess had needed
no practice, but had danced beautifully from the first, her
strong young limbs and supple body taking as naturally
An Honor and an Enemy 59
to anything requiring grace of movement as a cygnet to
water.
This, thought I, is my opportunity to teach Jane the new
dance. I wanted to go to her first, but was afraid, or for
some reason did not, and took several other ladies as they
came. After I had shown the step to them I sought out
my sweetheart. Jane was not a prude, but I honestly be-
lieve she was the most provoking girl that ever lived. I
never had succeeded in holding her hand even the smallest
part of an instant, and yet I was sure she liked me very
much ; almost sure she loved me. She feared I might un-
hinge it and carry it away, or something of that sort, I sup-
pose. When I went up and asked her to let me teach
her the'new dance, she said:
"I thank you, Edwin; but there are others who are
more anxious to learn than I, and you had better teach
them first."
11 But I want to teach you. When I wish to teach them
I will go to them."
* c You did go to several others before you thought of
coming to me," answered Jane, pretending to be piqued.
Now that was the unkindest thing I ever knew a girl to do
—refuse me what she knew I so wanted, and then put the
refusal on the pretended ground that I did not care much
about it. I so told her, and she saw she had carried things
too far, and that I was growing angry in earnest. She
then made another false, though somewhat flattering, ex-
cuse:
44 1 could not bear to go through that dance before so
large a company. I should not object so much if no one
else could see — that is, with you — Edwin." " Edwin!"
Oh ! so soft and sweet ! The little jade ! to think that
she could hoodwink me so easily, and talk me into a good
humor with her soft, purring " Edwin." I saw through
it all quickly enough, and left her without another word.
In a few minutes she went into an adjoining room where I
knew she was alone. The door was open and the music
could be heard there, so I followed.
4 4 My lady, there is no one to see us here ; I can teach
you now, if you wish," said I.
60 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
She saw she was cornered, and replied, with a toss of
her saucy little head : u But what if I do not wish ?"
Now this was more than I could endure with patience,
so I answered : ** My young lady, you shall ask me before
I teach you."
44 There are others who can dance it much better than
you," she returned, without looking at me.
" If you allow another to teach you that dance," I re-
sponded, "you will have seen the last of me." She had
made me angry, and I did not speak to her for more than
a week. When I did — but I will tell you of that later
on. There was one thing about Jane and the new step :
so long as she did not know it, she would not dance it with
any other man, and foolish as my feeling may have been,
I could not bear the thought of her doing it. I re-
solved that if she permitted another man to teach her
that dance it would be all over between us. It was a ter*
rible thought to me, that of losing Jane, and it came like
a very stroke upon my heart. I would think of her sweet
little form, so compact and graceful; of her gray, calm
eyes, so full of purity and mischief; of her fair oval face,
almost pale, and wonder if I could live without the hope
of her. I determined, however, that if she learned the
new dance with any other man I would throw that hope to
the winds, whether I lived or died. St. George ! I believe
I should have died.
The evening was devoted to learning the new dance,
and I saw Mary busily engaged imparting information
among the ladies. As we were about to disperse I heard
her say to Brandon:
" You have greatly pleased the king by bringing him a
new amusement. He asked me where I learned it, and I
told him you had taught it to Caskoden, and that I had it
from him. I told Caskoden so that he can tell the same
story."
"Oh! but that is not true. Don't you think you
should have told him the truth, or have evaded it in some
way?" asked Brandon, who was really a great lover of the
truth, ** when possible," but who, I fear on this occasion,
wished to appear more truthful than he really was- If a
An Honor and an Enemy 61
man is to a woman's taste, and she is inclined to him, he
lays up great stores in her heart by making her think him
good ; and shameful impositions are often practiced to this
end.
Mary flushed a little and answered, u I can't help it.
You do not know. Had I told Henry that we four had
enjoyed such a famous time in my rooms he would have
been very angry, and — and — you might have been the suf-
ferer."
" But might you not have compromised matters by go-
ing around the truth some way, and leaving the impression
that others were of the party that evening?"
That was a mistake, for it gave Mary an opportunity to
retaliate: *' The best way to go around the truth, as you
call it, is by a direct lie. My lie was no worse than yours.
But I did not stop to argue about such matters. There is
something else I wish to say. I want to tell you that you
have greatly pleased the king with the new dance. Now
teach him honor and ruff and your fortune is made. He
has had some Jews and Lombards in of late to teach him
new games at cards, but yours is worth all of them."
Then, somewhat hastily and irrelevantly, u I did not dance
the new dance with any other gentleman — but I suppose
you did not notice it," and she was gone before he could
thank her.
CHAPTER VI
A Rate Ride to Windsor
THE princess knew her royal brother, A man would
receive quicker reward for inventing an amusement or a
gaudy costume for the king than by winning him a battle.
Later in life the high road to his favor was in ridding him
of his wife and helping him to a new one— a dangerous
way though, as Wolsey found to his sorrow when he sunk
his glory in poor Anne Boleyn.
Brandon took the hint and managed to let it be known
to this play-loving king that he knew the latest French
games. The French Due de Longueville had for some
time been an honored prisoner at the English court, held
as a hostage from Louis XII, but de Longueville was a
blockhead, who could not keep his little black eyes of!
our fair ladies, who hated him, long enough to tell the
deuce of spades from the ace of hearts. So Brandon was
taken from his duties, such as they were, and placed at
the card table. This was fortunate at first ; for being the
best player the king always chose him as his partner, and,
as in every other game, the king always won. If he lost
there would soon be no game, and the man who won from
him too frequently was in danger at any moment of being
rated guilty of the very highest sort of treason. I think
many a man's fall, under Henry VH[, was owing to the
fact that he did not always allow the king to win in some
trivial matter of game or joust. Under these conditions
everybody was anxious to be the king's partner. It is true
he frequently forgot to divide his winnings, but his partner
had this advantage, at least : there was no danger of losing.
A Rate Ride to Windsor 63
That being the case, Brandon's seat opposite the king was
very likely to excite envy, and the time soon came, Henry
having learned the play, when Brandon had to face someone
else, and the seat was too costly for a man without a treas-
ury. It took but a few days to put Brandon hors de com-
bat, financially, and he would have been in a bad plight
had not Wolsey come to his relief. After that, he played
and paid the king in his own coin.
This great game of " honor and ruff " occupied Henry's
mind day and night during a fortnight. He feasted upon it
to satiety, as he did with everything else; never having
learned not to cloy his appetite by over-feeding. So we saw
little of Brandon while the king's fever lasted, and Mary said
she wished she had remained silent about the cards. You see,
she could enjoy this new plaything as well as her brother ;
but the king, of course, must be satisfied first. They both
had enough eventually ; Henry in one way, Mary in another.
One day the fancy struck the king that he would rebuild
ft certain chapel at Windsor ; so he took a number of the
court, including Mary, Jane, Brandon and myself, and
went with us up to London, where we lodged over night
at Bridewell House. The next morning — as bright and
beautiful a June day as ever gladdened the heart of a rose
—we took horse for Windsor ; a delightful seven-league
ride over a fair road.
Mary and Jane traveled side by side, with an occasional
companion or two, as the road permitted. I was angry
with Jane, as you know, so did not go near the girls; and
Brandon, without any apparent intention one way or the
other, allowed events to adjust themselves, and rode with
Cavendish and me.
We were perhaps forty yards behind the girls, and I
noticed after a time that the Lady Mary kept looking back-
ward in our direction, as if fearing rain from the east. I
was in hopes that Jane, too, would fear the rain, but you
would have sworn her neck was stiff, so straight ahead did
she keep her face. We had ridden perhaps three leagues,
when the princess stopped her horse and turned in her sad-
dle. I heard her voice, but did not understand what she
said.
64 When Knighthood Was In Flowe*
In a moment some one called out: ** Master Brandon is
wanted." So that gentleman rode forward, and I followed
him. When we came up with the girls, Mary said: "I
fear my girth is loose."
Brandon at once dismounted to tighten it, and the others
of our immediate party began to cluster around.
Brandon tried the girth.
"My lady, it is as tight as the horse can well bear,"
he said.
44 It is loose, I say," insisted the princess, with a little
irritation; "the saddle feels like it. Try the other."
Then turning impatiently to the persons gathered arcund:
44 Does it require all of you, standing there like gaping
bumpkins, to tighten my girth ? Ride on ; we can manage
this without so much help." Upon this broad hint every-
body rode ahead while I held the horse for Brandon, who
went on with his search for the loose girth. While he was
looking for it Mary leaned over her horse's neck and asked :
44 Were you and Cavendish settling all the philosophical
points now in dispute, that you found him so interesting?"
44 Not all," answered Brandon, smiling.
44 You were so absorbed, I supposed it could be nothing
short of that."
44 No," replied Brandon again. *4But the girth is not
loose."
44 Perhaps I only imagined it," returned Mary carelessly,
having lost interest in the girth.
I looked toward Jane, whose eyes were bright with a
smile, and turned Brandon's horse over to him. Jane's
smile gradually broadened into a laugh and she saidt
44 Edwin, I fear my girth is loose also."
44 As the Lady Mary's was?" asked I, unable to keep a
straight face any longer.
44 Yes," answered Jane, with a vigorous little nod of her
head, and a peal of laughter.
44 Then drop back with me," I responded.
The princess looked at us with a half smile, half frown,
and remarked : 44 Now you doubtless consider yourselves
very brilliant and witty."
44 Yes," returned Jane maliciously, nodding her head in
d
(/) ^O
< =
5i5
•8
•3
3^
., >-
8 SI
A Rate Ride to Windsor 65
emphatic assent, as the princess and Brandon rode on be-
fore us.
44 1 hope she is satisfied now," said Jane sotto voce to me.
44 So you want me to ride with you?" I replied.
44 Yes," nodded Jane,
"Why?" I asked.
44 Because I want you to," was the enlightening re-
sponse.
4 'Then why did you not dance with me the other even-
ing?"
44 Because I did not want to."
44 Short but comprehensive," thought I, 44but a suffi-
cient reason for a maiden."
I said nothing, however, and after a time Jane spoke :
44 The dance was one thing and riding with you is another.
I did not wish to dance with you, but I do wish to ride
with you. You are the only gentleman to whom I would
have said what I did about my girth being loose. As to
the new dance, I do not care to learn it because I would
not dance it with any man but you, and not even with
you — yet." This made me glad, and coming from coy,
modest Jane meant a great deal. It meant that she cared
for me, and would, some day, be mine ; but it also meant
that she would take her own time and her own sweet way
in being won. This was comforting, if not satisfying, and
loosened my tongue : 44Jane, you know my heart is full
of love for you — "
"Will the universe crumble?" she cried with the most
provoking little laugh. Now that sentence was my rock
ahead, whenever I tried to give Jane some idea of the state
of my affections. It was a part of the speech which I
had prepared and delivered to Mary in Jane's hearing, as
you already know. I had said to the princess: 44The
universe will crumble and the heavens roll up as a scroll
ere my love shall alter or pale." It was a high-sounding
sentence, but it was not true, as I was forced to admit, al-
most with the same breath that spoke it. Jane had heard
it, and had stored it away in that memory of hers, so te-
nacious in holding to everything it should forget. It is
5
66 When Knighthood Was In Flower
wonderful what a fund of useless information some
persons accumulate and cling to with a persistent de-
termination worthy of a better cause. I thought Jane
never would forget that unfortunate, abominable sentence
spoken so grandiloquently to Mary. I wonder what she
would have thought had she known that I had said sub-
stantially the same thing to a dozen others. I never should
have won her in that case. She does not know it yet,
and never shall if I can prevent. Although dear Jane is
old now, and the roses on her cheeks have long since paled,
her gray eyes are still there, with their mischievous little twin-
kle upon occasion, and— in fact, Jane can be as provoking
as ever when she takes the fancy, for she is as sure of my
affection now as upon the morning of that rare ride to
Windsor. Aye, surer, since she knows that in all these
years it has changed only to grow greater and stronger and
truer in the fructifying light of her sweet face, and the
nurturing warmth of her pure soul. What a blessed
thing it is for a man to love his wife and be satisfied with
her, and to think her the fairest being in all the world ; and
how thrice happy is he who can stretch out the sweetest
season of his existence, the days of triumphant courtship,
through the flying years of all his life, and then lie down
to die in the quieted ecstasy of a first love.
So Jane halted my effort to pour out my heart, as she
always did.
"There is something that greatly troubles me," she said*
''What is it?" I asked in some concern.
"My mistress," she answered, nodding in the direction
of the two riding ahead of us. u I never saw her so much
interested in any one as she is in your friend, Master Bran-
don. Not that she is really in love with him, as yet per-
haps, but I fear it is coming, and dread to see it. She has
never been compelled to forego anything she wanted, and
her desires are absolutely imperative. They drive her,
and she is helpless against them. She would not and
could not make the smallest effort to overcome them. I
think it never occurred to her that such a thing could be
necessary ; everything she wants she naturally thinks is hers
by divine right. There has been no great need of such an
A Rare Ride to Windsor 67
effort until now, but your friend Brandon presents it. I
wish he were at the other side of the world. I think she
feels that she ought to keep away from him before it is too
late, both for his sake and her own, but she is powerless
to deny herself the pleasure of being with him, and I do
not know what is to come of it all. That incident of the
loose girth is an illustration. Did you ever know anything
so bold and transparent ? Any one could see through it,
and the worst of all is she seems not to care if every one
does see. Now look at them ahead of us 1 No girl is so
happy riding beside a man unless she is interested in him.
She was dull enough until he joined her. He seemed in
no hurry to come, so she resorted to the flimsy excuse of
the loose girth to bring him. I am surprised that she even
sought the shadow of an excuse, but did not order him for-
ward without any pretense of one. Oh! I don't know
what to do. It troubles me greatly. Do you know the
state of his feelings?"
41 No," I answered, "but I think he is heart-whole, or
nearly so. He told me he was not fool enough to fall in
love with the king's sister, and I really believe he will
keep his heart and head, even at that dizzy height. He is
a cool fellow, if there ever was one."
" He certainly is different from other men," returned
Jane. " I think he has never spoken a word of love to
her. He has said some pretty things, which she has re-
peated to me ; has moralized to some extent, and has act-
ually told her of some of her faults. I should like to see
anyone else take that liberty. She seems to like it from him,
and says he inspires her with higher, better motives and a
yearning to be good ; but I am sure he has made no love
to her."
" Perhaps it would be better if he did. It might cure
her," I replied.
" Oh! no! no! not now; at first, perhaps, but not now.
What I fear is that if he remains silent much longer she
will take matters in hand and speak herself. I don't like to
say that — it doesn't sound well — but she is a princess, and
it would be different than with an ordinary girl ; she might
have to speak first, or there might be no speaking from
68 When Knighthood Was In Flower
one who thought his position too far beneath hers. She
whose smallest desires drive her so, will never forego so
great a thing as the man she loves only for the want of a
word or two."
Then it was that Jane told me of the scene with the note,
of the little whispered confidence upon their pillows, and a
hundred other straws that showed only too plainly which way
this worst of ill winds was blowing — with no good in it foi
any one. Now who could have foretold this ? It was easy
enough to prophesy that Brandon would learn to love
Mary, excite a passing interest, and come off crestfallen,
as all other men had done. But that Mary should love
Brandon, and he remain heart-whole, was an unlooked-for
event — one that would hardly have been predicted by the
shrewdest prophet.
What Lady Jane said troubled me greatly, as it was but
the confirmation of my own fears. Her opportunity to
know was far better than mine, but I had seen enough to
set me thinking.
Brandon, I believe, saw nothing of Mary's growing par-
tiality at all. He could not help but find her wonderfully
attractive and interesting, and perhaps it needed only the
thought that she might love him, to kindle a flame in his
own breast. But at the time of our ride to Windsor,
Charles Brandon was not in love with Mary Tudor, how-
ever near it he may unconsciously have been. He would
whistle and sing, and was as light-hearted as a lark — I mean
when away from the princess as well as with her — a mood
that does not go with a heart full of heavy love, of impos-
sible, fatal love, such as his would have been for the first
princess of the first blood royal of the world.
But another's trouble could not dim the sunlight in my
own heart, and that ride to Windsor was the happiest day of
my life up to that time. Even Jane threw off: the little
cloud our forebodings had gathered, and chatted and
laughed like the creature of joy and gladness she was.
Now and then her heart would well up so full of the sun-
light and the flowers, and the birds in the hedge, aye,
and of the contagious love in my heart, too, that it poured
A Rare Ride to W*n<feor 69
itself forth in a spontaneous little song which thrills me
even now.
Ahead of us were the princess and Brandon. Every
now and then her voice came back to us in a stave of a
song, and her laughter, rich and low, wafted on the wings
of the soft south wind, made the glad birds hush to catch
its silvery note. It seemed that the wild flowers had taken
on their brightest hue, the trees their richest Sabbath-day
green, and the sun his softest radiance, only to gladden the
heart of Mary that they might hear her laugh. The laugh
would have come quite as joyously had the flowers been
dead and the sun black, for flowers and sunlight, south
wind, green pastures and verdant hills, all were riding by
her side. Poor Mary ! Her days of laughter were num-
bered.
We all rode merrily on to Windsor, and when we arrived
it was curious to see the great nobles, Buckingham, both the
Howards, Seymour and a dozen others stand back for plain
Charles Brandon to dismount the fairest maiden and the
most renowned princess in Christendom. It was done
most gracefully. She was but a trifle to his strong arms,
and he lifted her to the sod as gently as if she were a child.
The nobles envied Brandon his evident favor with this unat-
tainable Mary and hated him accordingly, but they kept
their thoughts to themselves for two reasons : First, they
knew not to what degree the king's favor, already marked,
with the help of the princess might carry him ; and second,
they did not care to have a misunderstanding with the man
who had cut out Adam Judson's eyes.
We remained at Windsor four or five days, during which
time the king made several knights. Brandon would
probably have been one of them, as everybody expected,
had not Buckingham related to Henry the episode of the
loose girth, and adroitly poisoned his mind as to Mary's
partiality. At this, the king began to cast a jealous eye
on Brandon. His sister was his chief diplomatic resource,
and when she loved or married, it should be for Henry's
benefit, regardless of all else.
Brandon and the Lady Mary saw a great deal of each
other during this little stay at Windsor, as she always had
70 When Knighthood Was In Flower
some plan to bring about a meeting, and although very
delightful to him, it cost him much in royal favor. He
could not trace this effect to its proper cause and it troubled
him. I could have told him the reason in two words, but
I feared to put into his mind the thought that the princess
might learn to love him. As to the king, he would not
have cared if Brandon or every other man, for that matter,
should go stark mad for love of his sister, but when she be-
gan to show a preference he grew interested, and it was
apt sooner or later to go hard with the fortunate one.
When we went back to Greenwich Brandon was sent on a
day ahead.
CHAPTER
Love's Fierce Sweetness
AFTER we had all returned to Greenwich the princess
and Brandon were together frequently. Upon several oc.-
casions he was invited, with others, to her parlor for card
playing. But we spent two evenings, with only four of
us present, prior to the disastrous events which changed
everything, and of which I am soon to tell you. During
these two evenings the "Sailor Lass" was in constant
demand.
This pair, who should have remained apart, met con-
stantly in and about the palace, and every glance added
fuel to the flame. Part of the time it was the princess
with her troublesome dignity, and part of the time it was
Mary — simply girl. Notwithstanding these haughty moods,
anyone with half an eye could see that the princess was
gradually succumbing to the budding woman ; that Bran-
don's stronger nature had dominated her with that half
fear which every woman feels who loves a strong man —
stronger than herself.
One day the rumor spread through the court that the old
French king, Louis XII, whose wife, Anne of Brittany,
had just died, had asked Mary's hand in marriage. It was
this, probably, which opened Brandon's eyes to the fact
that he had been playing with the very worst sort of fire ;
and first made him see that in spite of himself, and almost
without his knowledge, the girl had grown wonderfully
sweet and dear to him. He now saw his danger, and
struggled to keep himself beyond the spell of her perilous
glances and siren song. This modern Ulysses made a mas-
terful effort, but alas ! had no ships to carry him away, and
(70
jrs When Knighthood Was In Flower
no wax with which to fill his ears. Wax is a good thin&y
and no one should enter the Siren country without it.
Ships, too, are good, with masts to tie one's self to, and
sails and rudder, and a gust of wind to waft one quickly
past the island. In fact, one can not take too many pre*
cautions when in those enchanted waters.
Matters began to look dark to me. Love had dawned
in Mary's breast, that was sure, and for the first time, with
all its fierce sweetness. Not that it had reached its
noon, or anything like it. In truth, it might, I hoped, die
in the dawning, for my lady was as capricious as a May
day; but it was love — love as plain as the sun at rising.
She sought Brandon upon all occasions, and made oppor-
tunities to meet him ; not openly — at any rate, not with
Brandon's knowledge, nor with any connivance on his part,
but apparently caring little what he or any one else might
see. Love lying in her heart had made her a little more
shy than formerly in seeking him, but her straightforward
way of taking whatever she wanted made her transparent
little attempts at concealment very pathetic.
As for Brandon, the shaft had entered his heart, too,
poor fellow, as surely as love had dawned in Mary's, but
there was this difference : With our princess— at least I
so thought at the time — the sun of love might dawn and
lift itself to mid-heaven and glow with the fervent ardor of
high noon — for her blood was warm with the spark of her
grandfather's fire — and then sink into the west and make
room for another sun to-morrow. But with Brandon's
stronger nature the sun would go till noon and there would
burn for life. The sun, however, had not reached its noon
with Brandon, either; since he had set his brain against
his heart, and had done what he could to stay the all-con-
suming orb at its dawning. He knew the hopeless misery
such a passion would bring him, and helped the good
Lord, in so far as he could, to answer his prayer, and lead
him not into temptation. As soon as he saw the truth,
he avoided Mary as much as possible.
As I said, we had spent several evenings with Mary
after we came home from Windsor, at all of which her
preference was shown in every movement. Some women
Lowefc fierce Sweetness 73
are s» expressive under strong emotion that every gesture,
a turn of the head, a glance of the eyes, the lifting of a
hand or poise of the body, speaks with a tongue of elo-
quence, and such was Mary. Her eyes would glow with
a soft fire when they rested upon him, and her whole per-
son told all too plainly what, in truth, it seemed she did
not care to hide. When others were present she would
restrain herself somewhat, but with only Jane and myself,
she could hardly maintain a seemly reserve. During all
this time Brandon remained cool and really seemed uncon-
scious of his wonderful attraction for her. It is hard to
understand why he did not see it, but I really believe he
did not. Although he was quite at ease in her presence,
too much so, Mary sometimes thought, and strangely
enough sometimes told him in a fit of short-lived, quickly
repented anger that always set him laughing, yet there wag
never word or gesture that could hint of undue famil-
iarity. It would probably have met a rebuff from the
princess part of her ; for with a perversity, both royal and
feminine, she wanted all the freedom for herself. In
short, like any other woman, she would rather love than
be loved, that is, until surrender day should come ; then
of course ....
After these last two meetings, although the invitations
came frequently, none was accepted. Brandon had con-
trived to have his duties, ostensibly at least, occupy his
evenings, and did honestly what his judgment told him
was the one thing to do ; that is, remained away from a fire
that could give no genial warmth, but was sure to burn him
to the quick. I saw this only too plainly, but never a word
ot it was spoken between us.
The more I saw of this man, the more I respected him,
and this curbing of his affections added to my already high
esteem. The effort was doubly wise in Brandon's case.
Should love with his intense nature reach its height, his reck-
lessness would in turn assert itself, and these two would
inevitably try to span the impassable gulf between them,
when Brandon, at least, would go down in the attempt.
His trouble, however, did not make a mope of him, and he
retained a great deal of his brightness and sparkle un-
74 When Knighthood Was In Flowe*
dimmed by what must have been an ache in his heart
Though he tried, without making it too marked, to see as
little of Mary as possible, their meeting once in a while
could not be avoided, especially when one of them was al-
ways seeking to bring it about. After a time, Mary be-
gan to suspect his attempts to avoid her, and she grew
cold and distant through pique. Her manner, however, had
no effect upon Brandon, who did not, or at least appeared
not, to notice it. This the girl could not endure, and lacking
strength to resist her heart, soon returned to the attack.
Mary had not seen Brandon for nearly two weeks, and
was growing anxious, when one day she and Jane met him
in a forest walk near the river. Brandon was sauntering
along reading when they overtook him. Jane told me
afterwards that Mary's conduct upon coming up to him
was pretty and curious beyond the naming. At first she
was inclined to be distant, and say cutting things, but
when Brandon began to grow restive under them and showed
signs of turning back, she changed front in the twinkling
of an eye and was all sweetness. She laughed and smiled
and dimpled, as only she could, and was full of bright
glances and gracious words.
She tried a hundred little schemes to get him to herself
for a moment — the hunting of a wild flower or a four-
leaved clover, or the exploration of some little nook in the
forest toward which she would lead him — but Jane did not
at first take the hint and kept close at her heels. Mary's
impulsive nature was not much given to hinting — she
usually nodded and most emphatically at that — so after a
few failures to rid herself of her waiting lady she said im-
patiently: "Jane, in the name of heaven don't keep so
close to us. You won't move out of reach of my hand,
and you know how often it inclines to box your ears."
Jane did know, I am sorry for Mary's sake to say, how
often the fair hand was given to such spasms ; so with this
emphasized hint she walked on ahead, half sulky at the
indignity put upon her, and half amused at her whimsical
mistress.
Mary lost no time, but began the attack at once.
" Now, sir, I want you to tell me the truth ; why do you
Love's Fierce Sweetness 75
refuse my invitations and so persistently keep away from
me ? I thought at first I would simply let you go your
way, and then I thought I — I would not. Don't deny it.
I know you won't. With all your faults, you don't tell
even little lies ; not even to a woman — I believe. Now
there is a fine compliment — is it not? — when I intended to
scold you! " She gave a fluttering little laugh, and, with
hanging head, continued: "Tell me, is not the king's
sister of quality sufficient to suit you ? Perhaps you must
have the queen or the Blessed Virgin? Tell me now?"
And she looked up at him, half in banter, half in doubt.
" My duties — ," began Brandon.
"Oh! bother your duties. Tell me the truth."
"I will, if you let me," returned Brandon, who had no
intention whatever of doing anything of the sort. "My
duties now occupy my time in the evening "
u That will not do," interrupted Mary, who knew enough
of a guardsman's duty to be sure it was not onerous. 4 'You
might as well come to it and tell the truth ; that you do not
like our society." And she gave him a vicious little glance
without a shadow of a smile.
"In God's name, Lady Mary, that is not it," answered
Brandon, who was on the rack. "Please do not think it.
I can not bear to have you say such a thing when it is so
far from the real truth."
"Then tell me the real truth."
"I can not; I can not. I beg of you not to ask. Leave
me! or let me leave you. I refuse to answer further."
The latter half of this sentence was uttered doggedly and
sounded sullen and ill-humored, although, of course, it was
not so intended. He had been so perilously near speaking
words which would probably have lighted, to their destruc-
tion—to his, certainly— the smoldering flames within their
breast that it frightened him, and the manner in which he
spoke was but a tone giving utterance to the pain in his
heart.
Mary took it as it sounded, and, in unfeigned surprise,
exclaimed angrily: "Leave you? Do I hear aright? I
never thought that I, the daughter and sister of a king,
would live to be dismissed by a — by a — any one."
76 When Knighthood Was In Flower
"Your highness — " began Brandon; but she was gone
before he could speak.
He did not follow her to explain, knowing how danger-
ous such an explanation would be, but felt that it was best
for them both that she should remain offended, painful as
the thought was to him.
Of course, Mary's womanly self-esteem, to say nothing
of her royal pride, was wounded to the quick, and no
wonder.
Poor Brandon sat down upon a stone, and, as he long-
ingly watched her retiring form, wished in his heart he
were dead. This was the first time he really knew how
much he loved the girl, and he saw that, with him at least,
it was a matter of bad to worse ; and at that rate would
soon be — worst.
Now that he had unintentionally offended her, and had
permitted her to go without an explanation, she was dearer
to him than ever, and, as he sat there with his face in hi?
hands, he knew that if matters went on as they were going,
the time would soon come when he would throw caution
to the dogs and would try the impossible — to win her for
his own. Caution and judgment still sat enthroned, and
they told him now what he knew full well they would not
tell him after a short time — that failure was certain to fol-
low the attempt, and disaster sure to follow failure. First,
the king would, in all probability, cutoff his head upon an
intimation of Mary's possible fondness for him ; and, second,
if he should be so fortunate as to keep his head, Mary could
not, and certainly would not, marry him, even if she loved
him with all her heart. The distance between them was
too great, and she knew too well what she owed to her
position. There was but one thing left— New Spain ; and
he determined while sitting there to sail with the next ship.
The real cause of Brandon's manner had never occurred
to Mary. Although she knew her beauty and power, as
she could not help but know it — not as a matter of vanity,
but as a matter of fact — yet love had blinded her where
Brandon was concerned, and that knowledge failed to give
her light as to his motives, however brightly it might
Love's Fierce Sweetness 77
illumine the conduct of other men toward whom she was
indifferent.
So Mary was angry this time ; angry in earnest, and
Jane felt the irritable palm more than once. I, too, came
in for my share of her ill temper, as most certainly would
Brandon, had he allowed himself to come within reach of
her tongue, which he was careful not to do. An angry
porcupine would have been pleasant company compared
with Mary during this time. There was no living with
her in peace. Even the king fought shy of her, and the
queen was almost afraid to speak. Probably so much
general disturbance was never before or since collected
within one small body as in that young Tartar- Venus,
Mary. She did not tell Jane the cause of her vexation,
but only said she " verily hated Brandon," and that, of
course, was the key to the whole situation.
After a fortnight, this ill-humor began to soften in the
glowing warmth of her heart, which was striving to reas-
sert itself, and the desire to see Brandon began to get the
better of her sense of injury.
Brandon, tired of this everlasting watchfulness to keep
himself out of temptation, and, dreading at any moment
that lapse from strength which is apt to come to the strong-
est of us, had resolved to quit his place at court and go to
New Spain at once. He had learned, upon inquiry, that
a ship would sail from Bristol in about twenty days, and
another six weeks later. So he chose the former and was
making his arrangements to leave as soon as possible.
He told me of his plans and spoke of his situation:
"You know the reason for my going," he said, " even if
I have never spoken of it. I am not much of a Joseph,
and am very little given to running away from a beautiful
woman, but in this case I am fleeing from death itself.
And to think what a heaven it would be. You are right,
Caskoden ; no man can withstand the light of that girl's
smile. I am unable to tell howl feel toward her. It some-
times seems that I can not live another hour without seeing
her; yet, thank God, I have reason enough left to know
that every sight of her only adds to an already incurable
malady. What will it be when she is the wife of the king
78 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
of France ? Does it not look as if wild life in New Spain
is my only chance ? "
I assented as we joined hands, and our eyes were moist
as I told him how I should miss him more than anyone else
in all the earth — excepting Jane, in mental reservation.
I told Jane what Brandon was about to do, knowing full
well she would tell Mary ; which she did at once.
Poor Mary! The sighs began to come now, and such
small vestiges of her ill-humor toward Brandon as still re-
mained were frightened off in a hurry by the fear that she
had seen the last of him.
She had not before fully known that she loved him. She
knew he was the most delightful companion she had ever
met, and that there was an exhilaration about his presence
which almost intoxicated her and made life an ecstasy, yet
she did not know it was love. It needed but the thought
that she was about to lose him to make her know her mal-
ady, and meet it face to face.
Upon the evening when Mary learned all this, she went
into her chamber very early and closed the door. No4one
interrupted her until Jane went in to robe her for the
night, and to retire. She then found that Mary had robed
herself and was lying in bed with her head covered, appar-
ently asleep. Jane quietly prepared to retire, and lay
down in her own bed. The girls usually shared one couch,
but during Mary's ill-temper she had forced Jane to sleep
alone.
After a short silence Jane heard a sob from the other
bed, then another, and another.
" Mary, are you weeping?" she asked.
1 'What is the matter, dear?"
"Nothing," with a sigh.
" Do you wish me to come to your bed?"
" Yes, I do." So Jane went over and lay beside Mary,
who gently put her arms about her neck.
" When will he leave?" whispered Mary, shyly confess-
ing all by her question.
"I do not know, " responded Jane, ubut he will see
you before he goes."
Love's Fierce Sweetness 79
"Do you believe he will?"
'•I know it;" and with this consolation Mary softly
wept herself to sleep.
After this, for a few days, Mary was quiet enough*
Her irritable mood had vanished, but Jane could see that
she was on the lookout for some one all the time, although
she made the most pathetic little efforts to conceal her
watchfulness.
At last a meeting came about in this way: Next to the
king's bed-chamber was a luxuriously furnished little
apartment with a well-selected library. Here Brandon
and I often went, afternoons, to read, as we were sure to
be undisturbed.
Late one day Brandon had gone over to this quiet re-
treat, and having selected a volume, took his place in a
secluded little alcove half hidden in arras draperies.
There was a cushioned seat along the wall and a small dia-
mond-shaped window to furnish light.
He had not been there long when in came Mary. I can
not say whether she knew Brandon was there or not, but
she was there and he was there, which is the only thing to
the point, and rinding him, she stepped into the alcove be-
fore he was aware of her presence.
Brandon was on his feet in an instant, and with a low
bow W93 backing himself out most deferentially, to leave
her in sole possession if she wished to rest.
1 1 Master Brandon, you need not go. I will not hurt
you. Besides, if this place is not large enough for us both,
I will go. I would not disturb you." She spoke with a
tremulous voice and a quick, uneasy glance, and started to
move backward out of the alcove.
" Lady Mary, how can you speak so ? You know — you
must know — oh ! I beg you — " But she interrupted him
by taking his arm and drawing him to a seat beside her on
the cushion. She could have drawn down the Colossus of
Rhodes with the look she gave Brandon, so full was it of
command, entreaty and promise.
" That's it; I don't know, but I want to know; and I
Want you to sit here beside me and tell me. I am going
to be reconciled with you, despite the way you treated me
8o
Knighthood Was In Flower
when last we met. I am going td be friends with you
whether you will or not. Now what do you say to that,
sir?" She spoke with a fluttering little laugh of uneasy
non-assurance, which showed that her heart was not nearly
so confident nor so bold as her words would make believe.
Poor Brandon, usually so ready, had nothing " to say to
that," but sat in helpless silence.
Was this the sum total of all his wise determinations
made at the cost of so much pain and effort? Was this
the answer to all his prayers, 4t Lead me not into tempta-
tion " ? He had done his part, for he had done all he
could. Heaven had not helped him, since here was temp-
tation thrust upon him when least expected, and when the
way was so narrow he could not escape, but must meet it
face to face.
Mary soon recovered her self-possession — women are
better skilled in this art than men — and continued :
44 1 am not intending to say one word about your treat-
ment of me that day over in the forest, although it was
very bad, and you have acted abominably ever since.
Now is not that kind in me?" And she softly laughed
as she peeped up at the poor fellow from beneath those
sweeping lashes, with the premeditated purpose of tanta-
lizing him, I suppose. She was beginning to know her
power over him, and it was never greater than at this mo-
ment. Her beauty had its sweetest quality, for the prin-
cess was sunk and the woman was dominant, with flushed
face and flashing eyes that caught a double luster from the
glowing love that made her heart beat so fast. Her gown,
too, was the best she could have worn to show her charms.
She must have known Brandon was there, and must have
dressed especially to go to him. She wore her favorite
long flowing outer sleeve, without the close fitting inner
one. It was slit to the shoulder, and gave entrancing
glimpses of her arms with every movement, leaving them
almost bare when she lifted her hands, which was often,
for she was full of gestures as a Frenchwoman. Her bod-
ice was cut low, both back and front, showing her large
perfectly molded throat and neck, like an alabaster pillar
Love's Fierce Sweetness Si
of beauty and strength, and disclosing her bosom just to
its shadowy incurving, white and billowy as drifted snow.
Her hair was thrown back in an attempt at a coil, though,
like her own rebellious nature, it could not brook restraint,
and persistently escaped in a hundred little curls that fringed
her face and lay upon the soft white nape of her neck
like fluffy shreds of sun-lit floss on new cut ivory.
With the mood that was upon her, I wonder Brandon
maintained his self-restraint even for a moment. He felt
that his only hope lay in silence, so he sat beside her and
said nothing. He told me long afterwards that while sit-
ting there in the intervals between her speech, the oddest,
wildest thoughts ran through his brain. He wondered how
he could escape. He thought of the window, and that pos-
sibly he might break away through it, and then he thought
of feigning illness, and a hundred other absurd schemes,
but they all came to nothing, and he sat there to let events
take their own course as they seemed determined to do in
spite of him.
After a short silence Mary continued, half banteringly :
'* Answer me, sir! I will have no more of this. You
shall treat me at least with the courtesy you would show a
bourgeoise girl."
44 Oh, that you were only a burgher's daughter."
4 4 Yes, I know all that ; but I am not. It can't be helped,
and you shall answer me."
44 There is no answer, dear lady — I beg you— oh, do you
not see — "
44 Yes, yes; but answer my question; am I not kind-
more than you deserve?"
44 Indeed, yes; a thousand times. You have always
been so kind, so gracious and so condescending to me that
I can only thank you, thank you, thank you," answered
Brandon, almost shyly; not daring to lift his eyes to hers.
Mary saw the manner quickly enough — what woman
ever missed it, much less so keen-eyed a girl as she— and
it gave her confidence, and brought back the easy banter
of her old time manner.
44 How modest we have become I Where is the bold*
6
83 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
ness of which we used to have so much ? Kind ? Have
always been so ? How about the first time I met you ?
Was I kind then? And as to condescension, don't — don't
use that word between us."
"No," returned Brandon, who, in his turn, was recov-
ering himself, "no, I can't say that you were very kind at
first. How you did fly out at me and surprise me. It
was so unexpected it almost took me off my feet," and
they both laughed in remembering the scene of their first
meeting. "No, I can't say your kindness showed itself
very strongly in that first interview, but it was there nev-
ertheless, and when Lady Jane led me back, your real na-
ture asserted itself, as it always does, and you were kind
to me; kind as only you can be."
That was getting very near to the sentimental ; danger-
ously near, he thought; and he said to himself: " If this
does not end quickly I shall have to escape."
"You are easily satisfied if you call that good," laugh-
ingly returned Mary. " I can be ever so much better than
that if I try."
" Let me see you try," said Brandon.
"Why, I'm trying now," answered Mary with a dis-
tracting little pout. " Don't you know genuine out-and-
out goodness when you see it? I'm doing my very best
right now. Can't you tell?"
"Yes, I think I recognize it; but — but — be bad again."
" No, I won't! I will not be bad even to please you ;
I have determined not to be bad and I will not — not even
to be good. This," placing her hand over her heart, " is
just full of *good* to-day," and her lips parted as she
laughed at her own pleasantry.
" I am afraid you had better be bad — I give you fair
warning," said Brandon huskily. He felt her eyes upon
him all the time, and his strength and good resolves were
oozing out like wine from an ill-coopered cask. After a
short silence Mary continued, regardless of the warning:
" But the position is reversed with us ; at first I was un-
kind to you, and you were kind to me, but now I am kind
to you and you are unkind to me."
"I can come back at you with your own words," re-
,
Love's Fierce Sweetness 83
sponded Brandon. "You don't know when I am kind to
you. I should be kinder to myself, at least, were I to
leave you and take myself to the other side of the world."
" Oh I that is one thing I wanted to ask you about. Jane
tells me you are going to New Spain?"
She was anxious to know, but asked the question partly
to turn the conversation which was fast becoming perilous.
As a girl, she loved Brandon, and knew it only too well,
but she knew also that she was a princess, standing next to
the throne of the greatest kingdom on earth ; in fact, at
that time, the heir apparent — Henry having no children —
for the people would not have the Scotch king's imp — and
the possibility of such a thing as a union with Brandon had
never entered her head, however passionate her feelings to-
ward him. She also knew that speaking a thought vital-
izes it and gives it force ; so, although she could not deny
herself the pleasure of being near him, of seeing him, and
hearing the tones of his voice, and now and then feeling
the thrill of an accidental touch, she had enough good
sense to know that a mutual confession, that is, taking it
for granted Brandon loved her, as she felt almost sure he
did, must be avoided at all hazards. It was not to be
thought of between people so far apart as they. The brink
was a delightful place, full of all the sweet ecstasies and
thrilling joys of a seventh heaven, but over the brink —
well! there should be no "over," for who was she?
And who was he ? Those two dreadfully stubborn facts
could not be forgotten, and the gulf between them could
not be spanned ; she knew that only too well. No one
better.
Brandon answered her question: "I do not know about
going ; I think I shall. I have volunteered with a ship
that sails in two or three weeks from Bristol, and I suppose
I shall go."
" Oh, no! do you really mean it?" It gave her a pang
to hear that he was actually going, and her love pulsed
higher ; but she also felt a sense of relief, somewhat as a
conscientious house-breaker might feel upon finding the
door securely locked against him. It would take away a
84 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
temptation which she could not resist, and yet dared not
yield to much longer.
u I think there is no doubt that I mean it," replied Bran-
don. "I should like to remain in England until I can
save enough money out of the king's allowance to pay the
debt against my father's estate, so that I maybe able to go
away and feel that my brother and sisters are secure in
their home — my brother is not strong — but I know it is bet-
ter for me to go now, and hope to find the money out there.
I could have paid it with what I lost to Judson before I
discovered him cheating." This was the first time he had
ever alluded to the duel, and the thought of it, in Mary's
mind, added a faint touch of fear to her feeling toward
him.
She looked up with a light in her eyes and asked:
" What is the debt? How much? Let me give you the
money. I have so much more than I need. Let me pay
it. Please tell me how much it is and I will hand it to
you. You can come to my rooms and get it or I will send
it to you. Now tell me that I may. Quickly." And she
was alive with enthusiastic interest.
1 ' There now ! you are kind again ; as kind as even you
can be. Be sure, I thank you, though I say it only once,"
and he looked into her eyes with a gaze she could not stand
even for an instant. This was growing dangerous again,
so, catching himself, he turned the conversation back into
the bantering vein.
"Ah! you want to pay the debt that I may have no ex-
cuse to remain? Is that it? Perhaps you are not so kind
after all."
"No! no! you know better. But let me pay the debt.
How much is it and to whom is it owing? Tell me at
once, I command you."
"No! no! Lady Mary, I can not."
"Please do. I beg — if I can not command. Now,
I know you will ; you would not make me beg twice for
any thing?" She drew closer to him as she spoke and put
her hand coaxingly upon his arm. With an irresistible im-
pulse he took the hand in his and lifted it to his lips in a
Love's Fierce Sweetness 85
lingering caress that could not be mistaken. It was all so
quick and so full of fire and meaning that Mary took fright,
and the princess, for the moment, came uppermost.
1 'Master Brandon! " she exclaimed sharply, and drew
away her hand. Brandon dropped the hand and moved
over on the seat. He did not speak, but turned his face
from her and looked out of the window toward the river.
Thus they sat in silence, Brandon's hand resting listlessly
upon the cushion between them. Mary saw the eloquent
movement away from her and his speaking attitude, with
averted face ; then the princess went into eclipse, and the
imperial woman was ascendant once more. She looked at
him for a brief space with softening eyes, and, lifting her
hand, put it back in his, saying:
" There it is again — if you want it."
Want it? Ah! this was too much! The hand would
not satisfy now; it must be all, all! And he caught her
to his arms with a violence that frightened her.
"Please don't, please! Not this time. Ah! have
mercy, Charl — Well ! There ! . . . . There !
Mary mother, forgive me." Then her woman spirit fell
before the whirlwind of his passion, and she was on his
breast with her white arms around his neck, paying the
same tribute to the little blind god that he would have ex-
acted from the lowliest maiden of the land. Just as
though it were not the blood of fifty kings and queens that
made so red and sweet, aye, sweet as nectar thrice distilled,
those lips which now so freely paid their dues in coined
bliss.
Brandon held the girl for a moment or two, then fell
upon his knees and buried his face in her lap.
" Heaven help me!" he cried.
She pushed the hair back from his forehead with her
hand, and as she fondled the curls, leaned over him and
softly whispered :
" Heaven help us both ; for I love you!"
He sprang to his feet. "Don't! don't! I pray you,"
he said wildly, and almost ran from her.
Mary followed him nearly to the door of the room, but
86 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
when he turned he saw that she had stopped, and was
standing with her hands over her face, as if in tears.
He went back to her and said: " I tried to avoid this,
and if you had helped me, it would never — " But he re-
membered how he had always despised Adam for throw-
ing the blame upon Eve, no matter how much she may
have deserved it, and continued: "No; I do not mean
that. It is all my fault. I should have gone away long
ago. I could not help it; I tried. Oh! I tried."
Mary's eyes were bent upon the floor, and tears were
falling over her flushed cheeks unheeded and unchecked.
" There is no fault in any one ; neither could I help it,"
she murmured.
" No, no ; it is not that there is any fault in the ordinary
sense ; it is like suicide or any other great, self-inflicted in-
jury with me. I am different from other men. I shall
never recover."
"I know only too well that you are different from other
men, and — and I, too, am different from other women —
am I not?"
11 Ah, different! There is no other woman in all this
wide, long world," and they were in each other's arms
again. She turned her shoulder to him and rested with the
support of his arms about her. Her eyes were cast down
in silence, and she was evidently thinking as she toyed
with the lace of his doublet. Brandon knew her varying
expressions so well that he saw there was something want-
ing, so he asked :
"Is there something you wish to say?"
" Not I," she responded with emphasis on the pronoun.
"Then is it something you wish me to say? "
She nodded her head slowly: " Yes."
" What is it? Tell me and I will say it."
She shook her head slowly: "No."
" What is it? I can not guess."
" Did you not like to hear me say that — that I — loved
you?"
"Ah, yes; you know it. But — oh! — do you wish to
hear me say it?"
The head nodded rapidly two or three times: " Yes."
Love's Fierce Sweetness $7
And the black curving lashes were lifted for a fleeting,
luminous instant.
4 1 It is surely not necessary; you have known it so long
already, but I am only too glad to say it. I love you."
She nestled closer to him and hid her face on his breast.
"Now that I have said it, what is my reward?" he
asked — and the fair face came up, red and rosy, with
4/ rewards," any one of which was worth a king's ransom.
" But this is worse than insanity," cried Brandon, as he
almost pushed her from him. " We can never belong to
each other; never."
" No," said Mary, with a despairing shake of the head,
as the tears began to flow again; " no! never." And fall-
ing upon his knees, he caught both her hands in his, sprang
to his feet and ran from the room.
Her words showed him the chasm anew. She saw the
distance between them even better than he. Evidently it
seemed further looking down than looking up. There was
nothing left now but flight.
He sought refuge in his own apartments and wildly
walked the floor, exclaiming, "P'ool! fool that I am to
lay up this store of agony to last me all my days. Why
did 1 ever come to this court? God pity me — pity me!"
And he fell upon his knees at the bed, burying his face in
his arms, his mighty man's frame shaking as with a palsy.
That same night Brandon told me how he had commit-
ted suicide, as he put it, and of his intention to go to Bris-
tol and there await the sailing of the ship, and perhaps find
a partial resurrection in New Spain.
Unfortunately, he could not start to Bristol at once, as he
had given some challenges for a tournament at Richmond,
and could furnish no good excuse to withdraw them ; but
he would not leave his room, nor again see " that girl who
was driving him mad."
It was better, he thought, and wisely too, that there be
no leave-taking, but that he should go without meeting
her.
"If I see her again," he said, "I shall have to kill some
one, even if it is only myself."
I heard him tossing in his bed all night, and when morn-
88 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
ing came he arose looking haggard enough, but with his
determination to run away and see Mary no more, stronger
than ever upon him.
But providence, or fate, or some one, ordered it differ-
ently, and there was plenty of trouble ahead.
CHAPTER
The Trouble in Billingsgate "Ward
ABOUT a week after Brandon's memorable interview
with Mary an incident occurred which changed everything
and came very near terminating his career in the flower of
youth. It also brought about a situation of affairs that
showed the difference in the quality of these two persons
thrown so marvelously together from their far distant sta-
tions at each end of the ladder of fortune, in a way that
reflected very little credit upon the one from the upper
end. But before I tell you of that I will relate briefly one
or two other matters that had a bearing upon what was
done, and the motives prompting it.
To begin with, Brandon had kept himself entirely away
from the princess ever since the afternoon at the king's
ante-chamber. The first day or so she sighed, but thought
little of his absence ; then she wept, and as usual began to
grow piqued and irritable.
What was left of her judgment told her it was better for
them to remain apart, but her longing to see Brandon grew
stronger as the prospect of it grew less, and she became
angry that it could not be gratified. Jane was right ; an
unsatisfied desire with Mary was torture. Even her sense
of the great distance between them had begun to fade, and
when she so wished for him and he did not come, their
positions seemed to be reversed. At the end ot the third
day she sent for him to come to her rooms, but he, by a
mighty effort, sent back a brief note saying that he could
not and ought not to go. This, of course, threw Mary into
a great passion, for she judged him by herself — a very
(89)
90 When Knighthood Was In Flowcf
common but dangerous method of judgment — and thought
that if he felt at all as she did, he would throw prudence
to the winds and come to her, as she knew she would go
to him if she could. It did not occur to her that Bran-
don knew himself well enough to be sure he would never
go to New Spain if he allowed another grain of temptation
to fall into the balance against him, but would remain in
London to love hopelessly, to try to win a hopeless cause,
and end it all by placing his head upon the block.
It required all his strength, even now, to hold in line his
determination to go to New Spain. He had reached his
limit. He had a fund of that most useful of all wisdom,
knowledge of self, and knew his limitations ; a little mat-
ter concerning which nine men out of ten go all their lives
in blissless ignorance.
Mary, who was no more given to self-analysis than her
pet linnet, did not appreciate Brandon's potent reasons,
and was in a flaming passion when she received his answer.
Rage and humiliation completely smothered, for the time,
her affection, and she said to herself, over and over again :
44 1 hate the low-born wretch. Oh! to think what I have
permitted!" And tears of shame and repentance came in
a flood, as they have come from yielding woman's eyes
since the world was born. Then she began to doubt his
motives. As long as she thought she had given her gift
to one who offered a responsive passion, she was glad
and proud of what she had done, but she had heard of
man's pretense in order to cozen woman out of her favors,
and she began to think she had been deceived. To her the
logic seemed irresistible ; that if the same motive lived in
his heart, and prompted him, that burned in her breast,
and induced her, who was virgin to her very heart-core,
and whose hand had hardly before been touched by the
hand of man, to give so much, no power of prudence could
keep him away from her. So she concluded she had given
her gold for his dross. This conclusion was more easily
arrived at owing to the fact that she had never been entire-
ly sure of the state of his heart. There had always been
a love-exciting grain of doubt ; and when the thought came
to her that she had been obliged to ask him to tell her of
The Trouble in Billingsgate Ward 91
his affection, and that the advances had really all been
made by her, that confirmed her suspicion. It seemed
only too clear that she had been too quick to give — no very
comforting thought to a proud girl, even though a mistaken
one.
As the days went by and Brandon did not come, her
anger cooled, as usual, and again her heart began to
ache ; but her sense of injury grew stronger day by day,
and she thought she was, beyond a doubt, the most ill-
used of women.
The other matter I wish to tell you is, that the negotia-
tions for Mary's marriage with old Louis XII of France
were beginning to be an open secret about the court. The
Due de Longueville, who had been held by Henry for
some time as a sort of a hostage from the French king,
had opened negotiations by inflaming the flickering pas-
sions of old Louis with descriptions of Mary's beauty. As
there was a prospect for a' new emperor soon, and as the
imperial bee had of late been making a most vehement
buzzing in Henry's bonnet, he encouraged De Longueville,
and thought it would be a good time to purchase the help
of France at the cost of his beautiful sister and a handsome
dower. Mary, of course, had not been consulted, and al-
though she had coaxed her brother out of other marriage
projects, Henry had gone about this as if he were in earnest,
and it was thought throughout the court that Mary's coax-
ings would be all in vain — a fear which she, herself, had
begun to share, notwithstanding her usual self-confidence.
She hated the thought of the marriage, and dreaded it
as she would death itself, though she said nothing to any
one but Jane, and was holding her forces in reserve for the
grand attack. She was preparing the way by being very
sweet and kind to Henry.
Now all of this, coming upon the heels of her trouble
with Brandon, made her most wretched indeed. For the
first time in her life she began to feel suffering ; that great
broadener, in fact, maker, of human character.
Above all, there was an alarming sense of uncertainty
in everything. She could hardly bring herself to believe
that Brandon would really go to New Spain, and that she
92 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
would actually lose him, although she did not want him,
as yet ; that is, as a prospective husband. Flashes of all
sorts of wild schemes had begun to shoot through her an-
ger and grief when she stared in the face the prospect of
her double separation from him — her marriage to another,
and the countless miles of fathomless sea that would be
between them. She could endure anything better than
uncertainty. A menacing future is the keenest of all tor-
tures for any of us to bear, but especially for a girl like
Mary. Death itself is not so terrible as the fear of it.
Now about this time there lived over in Billingsgate
Ward — the worst part of London — a Jewish soothsayer
named Grouche. He was also an astrologer, and had of
late grown into great fame as prophet of the future — a
fortune-teller.
His fame rested on several remarkable predictions which
had been fulfilled to the letter, and I really think the man
had some wonderful powers. They said he was half Jew,
half gypsy, and, if there is alchemy in the mixing of blood,
that combination should surely produce something pecu-
liar. The city folk were said to have visited him in great
numbers, and, notwithstanding the priests and bishops all
condemned him as an imp of satan and a follower of witch-
craft, many fine people, including some court ladies, con-
tinued to go there by stealth in order to take a dangerous,
inquisitive peep into the future. I say by stealth ; because
his ostensible occupation of soothsaying and fortune-telling
was not his only business. His house was really a place
of illicit meeting, and the soothsaying was often but an
excuse for going there. Lacking this ostensible occupa-
tion, he would not have been allowed to keep his house
within the wall, but would have been relegated to his proper
place — Bridge Ward Without.
Mary had long wanted to see this Grouche, at first out
of mere curiosity ; but Henry, who was very moral — with
other people's consciences — would not think of permitting
it. Two ladies, Lady Chesterfield and Lady Ormond,
both good and virtuous women, had been detected in such
a visit, and had been disgraced and expelled from court in
the most cruel manner by order of the king himself.
The Trouble in Billingsgate Ward 93
Now, added to Mary's old-time desire to see Grouche,
came a longing to know the outcome of the present mo-
mentous complication of affairs that touched her so
closely.
She could not wait for Time to unfold himself, and drop
his budget of events as he traveled, but she must plunge
ahead of him, and know, beforehand, the stores of the
fates — an intrusion they usually resent. I need not tell
you that was Mary's only object in going, nor that her
heart was as pure as a babe's — quite as chaste, and almost
as innocent. It is equally true that the large proportion of
persons who visited Grouche made his soothsaying an ex-
cuse. The thought of how wretched life would be with
Louis had put into Mary's mind the thought of how sweet
it would be with Brandon. Then came the wish that
Brandon had been a prince, or even a great English noble-
man ; and then leaped up, all rainbow-hued, the hope that
he might yet, by reason of his own great virtues, rise to
all of these, and she become his wife. But at the thres-
hold of this fair castle came knocking the thought that
perhaps he did not care for her, and had deceived her to
gain her favors. Then she flushed with anger and swore
to herself she hated him, and hoped never to see his face
again And the castle faded and was wafted away to the
realms of airy nothingness.
Ah I how people will sometimes lie to themselves ; and
sensible people at that.
So Mary wanted to see Grouche ; first, through curios-
ity, in itself a stronger motive than we give it credit for ;
second, to learn if she would be able to dissuade Henry
from the French marriage and perhaps catch a hint how to
do it ; and last, but by no means least, to discover the state
of Brandon's heart toward her.
By this time the last-named motive was strong enough
to draw her any whither, although she would not acknowl-
edge it, even to herself, and in truth hardly knew it ; so
full are we of things we know not of.
So she determined to go to see Grouche secretly, and
was confident she could arrange the visit in such a way
that it would never be discovered.
54 When Knighthood Was In Flower
One morning I met Jane, who told me, with troubled
face, that she and Mary were going to London to make
some purchases, would lodge at Bridewell House, and go
over to Billingsgate that evening to consult Grouche.
Mary had taken the whim into her willful head, and Jane
could not dissuade her.
The court was all at Greenwich and nobody at Bride-
well, so Mary thought they could disguise themselves as
orange girls and easily make the trip without any one be-
ing the wiser.
It was then, as now, no safe matter for even a man to
go unattended through the best parts of London after dark,
to say nothing of Billingsgate, that nest of water-rats and
cut-throats. But Mary did not realize the full danger of
the trip, and would, as usual, allow nobody to tell her.
She had threatened Jane with all sorts of vengeance if
she divulged her secret, and Jane was miserable enough
between her fears on either hand ; for Mary, though the
younger, held her in complete subjection. Despite her
fear of Mary, Jane asked me to go to London and fol-
low them at a distance, unknown to the princess. I was
to be on duty that night at a dance given in honor of the
French envoys who had just arrived, bringing with them
commission of special ambassador to De Longueville to
negotiate the treaty of marriage, and it was impossible for
me to go. Mary was going partly to avoid this ball, and
her willful persistency made Henry very angry. I regret-
ted that I could not go, but I promised Jane I would send
Brandon in my place, and he would answer the purpose of
protection far better than I. I suggested that Brandon
take with him a man, but Jane, who was in mortal fear of
Mary, would not listen to it. So it was agreed that Bran-
don should meet Jane at a given place and learn the par-
ticulars, and this plan was carried out.
Brandon went up to London and saw Jane, and before
the appointed time hid himself behind a hedge near the
private gate through which the girls intended to take their
departure from Bridewell.
They would leave about dusk and return, so Mary said,
before it grew dark.
The Trouble in Billingsgate Ward 95
The citizens of London at that time paid very little at-
tention to the law requiring them to hang out their lights,
and when it was dark it was dark.
Scarcely was Brandon safely ensconced behind a clump
of arbor vita3 when whom should he see coming down the
path toward the gate but his grace, the Duke of Bucking-
ham. He was met by one of the Bridewell servants who
was in attendance upon the princess.
44 Yes, your grace, this is the gate," said the girl. " You
can hide yourself and watch them as they go. They will
pass out on this path. As I said, I do not know where
they are going ; I only overheard them say they would go
out at this gate just before dark. I am sure they go on
some errand of gallantry, which your grace will soon learn,
I make no doubt."
He replied that he " would take care of that."
Brandon did not see where Buckingham hid himself, but
soon the two innocent adventurers came down the path,
attired in the short skirts and bonnets of orange girls, and
let themselves out at the gate. Buckingham followed them
and Brandon quickly followed him. The girls passed
through a little postern in the wall opposite Bridewell
House and walked rapidly up Fleet Ditch ; climbed Lud-
gate Hill; passed Paul's church; turned toward the river
down Bennett Hill ; to the left on Thames street ; then on
past the Bridge, following Lower Thames street to the
neighborhood of Fish-street Hill, where they took an alley
leading up toward East Cheap to Grouche's house.
It was a brave thing for the girl to do, and showed the
determined spirit that dwelt in her soft white breast.
Aside from the real dangers, there was enough to deter any
woman, I should think.
Jane wept all the way over, but Mary never flinched.
There were great mud-holes where one sank ankle-deep,
for no one paved their streets at that time, strangely enough
preferring to pay the sixpence fine per square yard for
leaving it undone. At one place, Brandon told me, a
load of hay blocked the streets, compelling them to squeeze
between the houses and the hay. He could hardly believe
the girls had passed that way, as he had not always been
96 When Knighthood Was In Flower
able to keep them in view, but had sometimes to follow
them by watching Buckingham. He, however, kept as
close as possible, and presently saw them turn down
Grouche's alley and enter his house.
Upon learning where they had stopped, Buckingham
hurriedly took himself off, and Brandon waited for the
girls to come out. It seemed a very long time that they
were in the wretched place, and darkness had well de-
scended upon London when they emerged.
Mary soon noticed that a man was following them, and as
she did not know who he was, became greatly alarmed.
The object of her journey had been accomplished now, so
the spur of a strong motive to keep her courage up was
lacking.
"Jane, some one is following us," she whispered.
" Yes," answered Jane with an unconcern that surprised
Mary, for she knew Jane was a coward from the top of
her brown head to the tip of her little pink heels.
"Oh, if I had only taken your advice, Jane, and had
never come to this wretched place ; and to think, too, that
I came here only to learn the worst. Shall we ever get
home alive, do you think?"
They hurried on, the man behind them taking less care
to remain unseen than he did when coming. Mary's fears
grew upon her as she heard his step and saw his form per-
sistently following them, and she clutched Jane by the arm.
1 1 It is all up with us, I know. I would give everything
I have or ever expect to have on earth for — for Master
Brandon at this moment." She thought of him as the one
person best able to defend her.
This was only too welcome an opportunity, and Jane
said: "That is Master Brandon following us. If we
wait a few seconds he will be here," and she called to him
before Mary could interpose.
Now this disclosure operated in two ways. Brandon's
presence was, it is true, just what Mary had so ardently
wished, but the danger, and, therefore, the need, was gone
when she found that the man who was following them had
no evil intent. Two thoughts quickly flashed through the
girl's mind. She was angry with Brandon for having cheat-
The Trouble in Billingsgate "Ward 97
ed her out of so many favors and for having slighted her
love, as she had succeeded in convincing herself was the
case, all of which Grouche had confirmed by telling her
he was false. Then she had been discovered in doing what
she knew she should have left undone, and what she was
anxious to conceal from every one ; and, worst of all, had
been discovered by the very person from whom she was
most anxious to hide it.
So she turned upon Jane angrily, " Jane Bolingbroke,
you shall leave me as soon as we get back to Greenwich
for this betrayal of my confidence."
She was not afraid now that the danger was over, and
feared no new danger with Brandon at hand to protect her,
for in her heart she felt that to overcome a few fiery drag-
ons and a company or so of giants would be a mere pas-
time to him ; yet see how she treated him. The girls had
stopped when Jane called Brandon, and he was at once by
their side with uncovered head, hoping for, and, of course,
expecting, a warm welcome. But even Brandon, with his
fund of worldly philosophy, had not learned not to put
his trust in princesses, and his surprise was benumbing
when Mary turned angrily upon him.
" Master Brandon, your impudence in following us
shall cost you dearly. We do not desire your company,
and will thank you to leave us to our own affairs, as we
wish you to attend exclusively to yours."
This from the girl who had given him so much within
less than a week ! Poor Brandon !
Jane, who had called him up, and was the cause of his
following them, began to weep.
" Sir," said she, " forgive me; it was not my fault; she
had just said — " Slap! came Mary's hand on Jane's
mouth ; and Jane was marched off weeping bitterly.
The girls had started up toward East Cheap when they
left Grouche 's, intending to go home by an upper route,
and now they walked rapidly in that direction. Brandon
continued to follow them, notwithstanding what Mary had
said, and she thanked him and her God ever after that he
did.
38 When Knighthood Was In Flower
They had been walking not more than five minutes,
when, just as the girls turned a corner into a secluded lit-
tle street, winding its way among the fish warehouses, four
horsemen passed Brandon in evident pursuit of them.
Brandon hurried forward, but before he reached the cor-
ner heard screams of fright, and as he turned into the
street distinctly saw that two of the men had dismounted
and were trying to overtake the fleeing girls. Fright
lent wings to their feet, and their short skirts affording
freedom to their limbs, they were giving the pursuers a
warm little race, screaming at every step to the full limit
of their voices. How they did run and scream ! It was
but a moment till Brandon came up with the pursuers,
who, all unconscious that they in turn were pursued, did
not expect an attack from the rear. The men remaining
on horseback shouted an alarm to their comrades, but so
intent were the latter in their pursuit that they did not hear.
One of the men on foot fell dead, pierced through the
back of the neck by Brandon's sword, before either was
aware of his presence. The other turned, but was a corpse
before he could cry out. The girls had stopped a short
distance ahead, exhausted by their flight. Mary had stum-
bled and fallen, but had risen again, and both were now
leaning against a wall, clinging to each other, a picture of
abject terror. Brandon ran to the girls, but by the time he
reached them the two men on horseback were there also,
hacking away at him from their saddles. Brandon did his
best to save himself from being cut to pieces and the girls
from being trampled under foot by the prancing horses.
A narrow jutting of the wall, a foot or two in width, a sort
of flying buttress, gave him a little advantage, and up into
the slight shelter of the corner thus formed he thrust the
girls, and with his back to them, faced his unequal foe with
drawn sword. Fortunately the position allowed only one
horse to attack them. Two men on foot would have been
less in each other's way and much more effective. The
men, however, stuck to their horses, and one of them
pressed the attack, striking at Brandon most viciously. It
being dark, and the distance deceptive, the horseman's
sword at last struck the wall, a flash of sparks flying in its
'BRANDON THRUST HIS SWORD
INTO THE HORSE'S THROAT." p. 99
The Trouble in Billingsgate Ward 99
trail, and lucky it was, or this story would have ended
here. Thereupon Brandon thrust his sword into the horse's
throat, causing it to rear backward, plunging and lunging
into the street, where it fell, holding its rider by the leg
against the cobble-stones of a little gutter.
A cry from the fallen horseman brought his companion
to his side, and gave Brandon an opportunity to escape
with the girls. Of this he took advantage, you may be
sure, for one of his mottoes was, that the greatest fool in
the world is he who does not early in life learn how and
when to run.
In the light of the sparks from the sword-stroke upon
the wall, brief as it was, Brandon recognized the face of
Buckingham, from which the mask had fallen. Of this
he did not speak to any one till long afterward, and his
silence was almost his undoing.
How often a word spoken or unspoken may have the
very deuce in it either way.
The girls were nearly dead from fright, and in order to
make any sort of progress Brandon had to carry the prin-
cess and help Jane until he thought they were out of dan-
ger. Jane soon recovered, but Mary did not seem anxious
to walk, and lay with her head upon Brandon's shoulder,
apparently contented enough.
In a few minutes Jane said, " If you can walk now, my
lady, I think you had better. We shall soon be near
Fishmonger's Hall, where some one is sure to be standing
at this hour."
Mary said nothing in reply to Jane, but, as Brandon fell
a step or two behind at a narrow crossing, whispered :
" Forgive me, forgive me; I will do any penance you
ask ; I am unworthy to speak your name. I owe you my
life and more — and more a thousand times." At this she
lifted her arm and placed her hand upon his cheek and
neck. She then learned for the first time that he was
wounded, and the tears came softly as she slipped from
his arms to the ground. She walked beside him quietly
for a little time, then, taking his hand in both of hers,
gently lifted it to her lips and laid it upon her breast. Half
an hour afterward Brandon left the girls at Bridewell House,
ioo "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
went over to the Bridge where he had left his horse at a
hostelry, and rode down to Greenwich.
So Mary had made her trip to Grouche's, but it was labor
worse than lost. Grouche had told her nothing she wanted
to know, though much that he supposed she would like to
learn. He had told her she had many lovers, a fact
which her face and form would make easy enough to dis-
cover. He informed her also that she had a low-born lov-
er, and in order to put a little evil in with the good fortune
and give what he said an air of truth, he added to Mary's
state of unrest more than he thought by telling her that
her low-born lover was false. He thought to flatter her by
predicting that she would soon marry a very great prince
or nobleman, the indications being in favor of the former,
and, in place of this making her happy, she wished the
wretched soothsayer in the bottomless pit — he and all his
prophecies ; herself, too, for going to him. His guesses
were pretty shrewd ; that is, admitting he did not know
who Mary was, which she at least supposed was the case.
So Mary wept that night and moaned and moaned because
she had gone to Grouche' s. It had added infinitely to the
pain of which her heart was already too full, and made her
thoroughly wretched and unhappy. As usual though, with
the blunders of stubborn, self-willed people, some one else
had to pay the cost of her folly. Brandon was paymaster
in this case, and when you see how dearly he paid, and
how poorly she requited the debt, I fear you will despise
her. Wait, though ! Be not hasty. The right of judg-
ment belongs to— you know whom. No man knows an-
other man's heart, much less a woman's, so how can he
judge ? We shall all have more than enough of judging
by and by. So let us put off for as many to-morrows as
possible the thing that should be left undone to-day.
CHAPTER IX
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses
I THOUGHT the king's dance that night would never end,
so fond were the Frenchmen of our fair ladies, and I was
more than anxious to see Brandon and learn the issue of
the girls' escapade, as I well knew the danger attend-
ing it.
All things, however, must end, so early in the morning
I hastened to our rooms, where I found Brandon lying in
his clothes, everything saturated with blood from a dozen
sword cuts. He was very weak, and I at once had in a
barber, who took off his shirt of mail and dressed his
wounds. He then dropped into a deep sleep, while I
watched the night out. Upon awakening Brandon told
me all that had happened, but asked me to say nothing of
his illness, as he wished to keep the fact of his wounds se-
cret in order that he might better conceal the cause of them.
But, as I told you, he did not speak of Buckingham's
part in the affray.
I saw the princess that afternoon, and expected, of course,
she would inquire for her defender. One who had given
such timely help and who was suffering so much on her ac-
count was surely worth a little solicitude ; but not a word
did she ask. She did not come near me, but made a point of
avoidance, as I could plainly see. The next morning she,
with Jane, went over to Scotland Palace without so much
as a breath of inquiry from either of them. This heart-
less conduct enraged me ; but I was glad to learn after-
ward that Jane's silence was at Mary's command — that
bundle of selfishness fearing that any solicitude, however
carefully shown upon her part, might reveal her secret.
(101)
102 "When Knighthood "Was In Rower
It seems that Mary had recent intelligence of the forward
state of affairs in the marriage negotiations, and felt that a
discovery by her brother of what she had done, especially
in view of the disastrous results, would send her to France
despite all the coaxing she could do from then till dooms-
day.
It was a terrible fate hanging over her, doubly so in view
of the fact that she loved another man ; and looking back
at it all from the vantage point of time, I can not wonder
that it drove other things out of her head and made her
seem selfish in her frightened desire to save herself.
About twelve o'clock of the following night I was awak-
ened by a knock at my door, and, upon opening, in walked
a sergeant of the sheriff of London with four yeomen at his
heels.
The sergeant asked if one Charles Brandon was present,
and upon my affirmative answer demanded that he be forth-
coming. I told the sergeant that Brandon was confined to
his bed with illness, whereupon he asked to be shown to
his room.
It was useless to resist or to evade, so I awakened
Brandon and took the sergeant in. Here he read his war-
rant to arrest Charles Brandon, Esquire, for the murder of
two citizens of London, perpetrated, done and committed
upon the night of such and such a day, of this year of our
Lord, 1514. Brandon's hat had been found by the side of
the dead men, and the authorities had received informa-
tion from a high source that Brandon was the guilty per-
son. That high source was evidently Buckingham.
When the sergeant found Brandon covered with wounds
there was no longer any doubt, and although hardly able to
lift his hand he was forced to dress and go with them. A
horse litter was procured and we all started to London.
While Brandon was dressing, I said I would at once go
and awaken the king, who I knew would pardon the
offense when he heard my story, but Brandon asked the
sergeant to leave us to ourselves for a short time, and
closed the door.
"Please do nothing of the sort, Caskoden," said he;
1 ' if you tell the king I will declare there is not one word of
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses 103
truth in your story. There is only one person in the world
who may tell of that night's happenings, and if she does
not they shall remain untold. She will make it all right at
once, I know. I would not do her the foul wrong to
think for one instant that she will fail. You do not know
her; she sometimes seems selfish, but it is thoughtlessness
fostered by flattery, and her heart is right. I would
trust her with my life. If you breathe a word of what I have
told you, you may do more harm than you can ever remedy,
and I ask you to say nothing to any one. If the princess
would not liberate me .... but that is not to be thought
of. Never doubt that she can and will do it better than
you think. She is all gold."
This, of course, silenced me, as I did not know what new
danger I might create, nor how I might mar the matter I
so much wished to mend. I did not tell Brandon that
the girls had left Greenwich, nor of my undefined, and,
perhaps, unfounded fear that Mary might not act as he
thought she would in a great emergency, but silently helped
him to dress and went to London along with him and the
sheriff's sergeant.
Brandon was taken to Newgate, the most loathsome
prison in London at that time, it being used for felons
while Ludgate was for debtors. Here he was thrown
into an undergound dungeon foul with water that seeped
through the old masonry from the moat, and alive with
every noisome thing that creeps. There was no bed, no
stool, no floor, not even a wisp of a straw ; simply the
reeking stone walls, covered with fungus, and the window-
less arch overhead. One could hardly conceive a more
horrible place in which to spend even a moment. I had a
glimpse of it by the light of the keeper's lantern as they
put him in, and it seemed to me a single night in that
awful place would have killed me or driven me mad. I
protested and begged and tried to bribe, but it was all of
no avail, the keeper had been bribed before I arrived. Al-
though it could do no possible good, I was glad to stand
outside the prison walls in the drenching rain, all the rest
of that wretched night, that I might be as near as possible
to my friend and suffer a little with him.
i®4 "When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
Was not I, too, greatly indebted to him ? Had he not im-
periled his life and given his blood to save the honor of
Jane as well as of Mary — Jane, dearer to me a thousand-
fold than the breath of my nostrils ? And was he not suf-
fering at that moment because of this great service, per-
formed at my request and in my place ? If my whole soul
had not gone out to him I should have been the most un-
grateful wretch on earth ; worse even than a pair of sel-
fish, careless girls. But it did go out to him, and I be-
lieve I would have bartered my life to have freed him from
another hour in that dungeon.
As soon as the prison gates were opened next morning,
I again importuned the keeper to give Brandon a more
comfortable cell, but his reply was that such crimes had
of late become so frequent in London that no favor could
be shown those who committed them, and that men like
Brandon, who ought to know and act better, deserved the
maximum punishment.
I told him he was wrong in this case ; that I knew the
facts, and everything would be clearly explained that very
day and Brandon released.
u That's all very well," responded the stubborn creat-
ure ; * ' nobody is guilty who comes here ; they can every
one prove innocence clearly and at once. Notwithstand-
ing, they nearly all hang, and frequently, for variety's
sake, are drawn and quartered."
I waited about Newgate until nine o'clock, and as I
passed out met Buckingham and his man Johnson, a sort
of lawyer-knight, going in. I went down to the palace at
Greenwich, and finding that the girls were still at Scot-
land, rode over at once to see them.
Upon getting Mary and Jane to myself, I told them of
Brandon's arrest on the charge of murder, and of his con-
dition, lying half dead from wounds and loss of blood, in
that frightful dungeon. The tale moved them greatly,
and they both gave way to tears. I think Mary had heard
of the arrest before, as she did not seem surprised.
14 Do you think he will tell the cause of the killing?"
she asked.
"I know he will not," I answered; " but I als® know
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses 105
that he knows you will," and I looked straight into her
face.
u Certainly we will," said Jane; "we will go to the
king at once," and she was on the quivive to start imme-
diately.
Mary did not at once consent to Jane's proposition, but
sat in a reverie, looking with tearful eyes into vacancy, ap-
parently absorbed in thought. After a little pressing from
us she said: "I suppose it will have to be done; I can
see no other way; but blessed Mother Mary! .... help
me!"
The girls made hasty preparations, and we all started
back to Greenwich that Mary might tell the king. On
the road over, I stopped at Newgate to tell Brandon that
the princess would soon have him out, knowing how wel-
come liberty would be at her hands ; but I was not per-
mitted to see him.
I swallowed my disappointment, and thought it would
be only a matter of a few hours delay — the time spent in
riding down to Greenwich and sending back a messenger.
So, light-hearted enough at the prospect, I soon joined the
girls, and we cantered briskly home.
After waiting a reasonable time for Mary to see the
king, I sought her again to learn where and from whom
I should receive the order for Brandon's release, and
when I should go to London to bring him.
What was my surprise and disgust when Mary told me
she had not yet seen the king — that she had waited to " eat,
and bathe, and dress," and that " a few moments more or
less could make no difference."
"My God! your highness, did I not tell you that the
man who saved your life and honor — who is covered with
wounds received in your defense, and almost dead from loss
of blood, spilled that you might be saved from worse than
death — is now lying in a rayless dungeon ; a place of fright-
ful filth, such as you would not walk across for all the wealth
of London Bridge ; is surrounded by loathsome, creeping
things that would sicken you but to think of ; is resting
under a charge whose penalty is that he be hanged, drawn
and quartered? and yet you stop to eat and bathe and
io6 "When Knighthood Was In Flower
dress. In God's name, Mary Tudor! of what stuff are
you made ? If he had waited but one little minute ; had
stopped for the drawing of a breath ; had held back for
but one faltering thought from the terrible odds of four
swords to one, what would you now be? Think, prin-
cess, think!"
I was a little frightened at the length to which my feel-
ing had driven me, but Mary took it all very well, and said
slowly and absent-mindedly:
" You are right ; I will go at once ; I despise my selfish
neglect. There is no other way ; I have racked my brain
— there is no other way. It must be done, and I will go at
once and do it."
" And I will go with you," said I.
"I do not blame you," she said, " for doubting me,
since I have failed once ; but you need not doubt me now.
It shall be done, and without delay, regardless of the cost to
me. I have thought and thought to find some other way
to liberate him, but there is none ; I will go this instant."
"And I will go with you, Lady Mary," said I, doggedly.
She smiled at my persistency, and took me by the hand
saying, "Come!"
We at once went off to find the king, but the smile had
faded from Mary's face, and she looked as if she were go-
ing to execution. Every shade of color had fled, and her
lips were the hue of ashes.
We found the king in the midst of his council, with the
French ambassadors, discussing the all-absorbing topic of
the marriage treaty; and Henry, fearing an outbreak,
refused to see the princess. As usual, opposition but
spurred her determination, so she sat down in the ante-
room and said she would not stir until she had seen the
king.
After we had waited a few minutes, one of the king's
pages came up and said he had, been looking all over the
palace for me, and that the king desired my presence im-
mediately. I went in with the page to the king, leaving
Mary alone and very melancholy in the ante-chamber.
Upon entering the king's presence he asked, u Where
have you been, Sir Edwin ? I have almost killed a good
Put Not Youf Trust in Princesses 107
half-dozen pages hunting you. I want you to prepare im-
mediately to go to Paris with an embassy to his majesty,
King Louis. You will be the interpreter. The ambassa-
dor you need not know. Make ready at once. The em-
bassy will leave London from the Tabard Inn one hour
hence/'
Could a command to duty have come at a more inop-
portune time? I was distracted; and upon leaving the
king went at once to seek the Lady Mary where I had left
her in the ante-room. She had gone, so I went to her
apartments, but could not find her. I went to the queen's
salon, but she was not there, and I traversed that old ram-
bling palace from one end to the other without finding
her or Lady Jane.
The king had told me the embassy would be a secret
one, and that I was to speak of it to nobody, least of all to
the Lady Mary. No one was to know that I was leaving
England, and I was to communicate with no one at home
while in France.
The king's command wras not to be disobeyed ; to do so
would be as much as my life was worth, but besides that,
the command of the king I served was my highest duty,
and no Caskoden ever failed in that. I may not be as tall
as some men, but my fidelity and honor — but you will say
I boast.
I was to make ready my bundle and ride six miles to
London in one hour ; and almost half that time was spent
already. I was sure to be late, so I could not waste an-
other minute.
I went to my room and got together a few things neces-
sary for my journey, but did not take much in the way of
clothing, preferring to buy that new in Paris, where I could
find the latest styles in pattern and fabric.
I tried to assure myself that Mary would see the king at
once and tell him all, and not allow my dear friend Bran-
don to lie in that terrible place another night; yet a per-
sistent fear gnawed at my heart, and a sort of intuition,
that seemed to have the very breath of certainty in its fore-
boding, made me doubt her.
As I could find neither Mary nor Jane, I did the next best
io8 When Knighthood Was In Flowe*
thing: I wrote a letter to each of them, urging immediate
action, and left them to be delivered by my man Thomas,
who was one of those trusty souls that never fail. I did
not tell the girls I was about to start for France, but in-
timated that I was compelled to leave London for a time,
and said: ** I leave the fate of this man, to whom we all
owe so much, in your hands, knowing full well how tender
you will be of him."
I was away from home nearly a month, and as I dared
not write, and even Jane did not know where I was, I did
not receive, or expect, any letters. The king had ordered
secrecy, and if I have mingled with all my faults a single
virtue it is that of faithfulness to my trust. So I had no
news from England and sent none home.
During all that time the same old fear lived in my heart
that Mary might fail to liberate Brandon. She knew of
the negotiations concerning the French marriage, as we all
did, although only by an indefinite sort of hearsay, and I
was sure the half-founded rumors that had reached her
ears had long since become certainties, and that her heart
was full of trouble and fear of her violent brother. She
would certainly be at her coaxing and wheedling again
and on her best behavior, and I feared she might refrain
from telling Henry of her trip to Grouche's, knowing how
severe he wa<s in such matters and how furious he was sure
to become at the discovery. I was certain it was this fear
which had prevented Mary from going directly to the king
on our return to Greenwich from Scotland, and knew that
her eating, bathing and dressing were but an excuse for a
breathing spell before the dreaded interview.
This fear remained with me all the time I was away,
but when I reasoned with myself I would smother it as well
as I could with argumentative attempts at self-assurance. I
would say over and over to myself that Mary could not
fail, and that even if she did, there was Jane, dear sweet,
thoughtful, unselfish Jane, who would not allow her to do
so. But as far as they go, our intuitions— our u feel-
ings," as we call them — are worth all the logic in the
world, and you can say what you will, but my presenti-
ments— I speak for no one else — are well to be minded
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses 109
There is another sense hidden about us that will develop
as the race grows older. I speak to posterity.
In proof of this statement, I now tell you that when I
returned to London I found Brandon still in the terrible
dungeon ; and worse still, he had been tried for murder,
and had been condemned to be hanged, drawn and quar-
tered on the second Friday following. Hanged ! Drawn !
Quartered ! It is time we were doing away with such bar-
barity.
We will now go back a month for the purpose of look-
ing up the doings of a friend of ours, his grace, the Duke
of Buckingham.
On the morning of the fatal battle of Billingsgate, the
barber who had treated Brandon's wounds had been called
to London to dress a bruised knee for his grace, the duke.
In the course of the operation, an immense deal of infor-
mation oozed out of the barber, one item of which was
that he had the night before dressed nine wounds, great and
small, for Master Brandon, the king's friend. This es-
tablished the identity of the man who had rescued the
girls, a fact of which Buckingham had had his suspi-
cions all along. So Brandon's arrest followed, as I have
already related to you.
I afterward learned from various sources how this no-
bleman began to avenge his mishap with Brandon at
Mary's ball when the latter broke his sword point. First,
he went to Newgate and gave orders to the keeper, who
was his tool, to allow no communication with the prisoner,
and it was by his instructions that Brandon had been con-
fined in the worst dungeon in London. Then he went
down to Greenwich to take care of matters there, knowing
that the king would learn of Brandon's arrest, and proba-
bly take steps for his liberation at once.
The king had just heard of the arrest when Bucking-
ham arrived, and the latter found he was right in his sur*
mise that his majesty would at once demand Brandon's
release.
When the duke entered the king's room Henry called to
him: u My Lord, you are opportunely arrived. So good
* friend of the people of London can help us greatly this
no When Knighthood Was In Flower
morning. Our friend Brandon has been arrested for the
killing of two men night before last in Billingsgate ward.
I am sure there is some mistake, and that the good sheriff
has the wrong man, but right or wrong, we want him out
and ask your good offices."
"I shall be most happy to serve your majesty, and will
go to London at once to see the lord mayor."
In the afternoon the duke returned and had a private
audience with the king.
"I did as your majesty requested in regard to Brandon's
release," he said, "but on investigation, thought it best to
consult you again before proceeding further. I fear there
is no doubt that Brandon is the right man. It seems he
was out with a couple of wenches concerning whom he got
into trouble and stabbed two men in the back. It is a
very aggravated case and the citizens are much incensed
about it, owing partly to the fact that such occurrences
have been so frequent of late. I thought, under the cir-
cumstances, and in view of the fact that your majesty
will soon call upon the city for a loan to make up the Lady
Mary's dower, it would be wise not to antagonize them in
this matter, but to allow Master Brandon to remain qui-
etly in confinement until the loan is completed and then
we can snap our ringers at them."
"We will snap our fingers at the scurvy burghers now
and have the loan, too," returned Henry angrily. ** I want
Brandon liberated at once, and shall expect another report
from you immediately, my lord."
Buckingham felt that his revenge had slipped through
his fingers this time, but he was patient where evil was to
be accomplished and could wait. Then it was that the
council was called during the progress of which Mary and
I had tried to obtain an audience with the king.
Buckingham had gone to pay his respects to the queen,
and on his way back espied Mary waiting for the king in
the ante-room, and went to her.
At first she was irritated at the sight of this man, whom
she so despised, but a thought came to her that she might
make use of him. She knew his power with the citizens
and city authorities of London, and also knew, or thought
Put Not Your Trust In Princesses in
she knew, that a smile from her could accomplish every-
thing with him. She had ample evidence of his infatua-
tion, and she hoped that she could procure Brandon's
liberty through Buckingham without revealing her danger-
ous secret.
Much to the duke's surprise, she smiled upon him and
gave a cordial welcome, saying: " My lord, you have been
unkind to us of late and have not shown us the light of
your countenance. I am glad to see you once more ; tell
me the news."
" I can not say there is much of interest. I have learned
the new dance from Caskoden, if that is news, and hope
for a favor at our next ball from the fairest lady in
the world."
"And quite welcome," returned Mary, complacently
appropriating the title, " and welcome to more than one, I
hope, my lord."
This graciousness would have looked suspicious to one
with less vanity than Buckingham, but he saw no craft in
it. He did see, however, that Mary did not know who
had attacked her in Billingsgate, and he felt greatly re-
lieved.
The duke smiled and smirked, and was enchanted at her
kindness. They walked down the corridor talking and
laughing, Mary awaiting, an opportunity to put the im-
portant question without exciting suspicion. At last it
came, when Buckingham, half inquiringly, expressed his
surprise that Mary should be found sitting at the king's
door.
" I am waiting to see the king," said she. " Little Cas-
koden's friend, Brandon, has been arrested for a brawl of
some sort over in London, and Sir Edwin and Lady Jane
have importuned me to obtain his release, which I have
promised to do. Perhaps your grace will allow me to
petition you in place of carrying my request to the
king. You are quite as powerful as his majesty in Lon-
don, and I should like to ask you to obtain for Master
Brandon his liberty at once. I shall hold myself infinitely
obliged, if your lordship will do this for me." She smiled
upon him her sweetest smile, and assumed an indifference
ii2 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
that would have deceived any one but Buckingham. Upon
him, under the circumstances, it was worse than wasted.
Buckingham at once consented, and said, that notwith-
standing the fact that he did not like Brandon, to oblige
her highness, he would undertake to befriend a much
more disagreeable person.
11 1 fear/' he said, " it will have to be done secretly—
by conniving at his escape rather than by an order for his
release. The citizens are greatly aroused over the alarm-
ing frequency of such occurrences, and as many of the
offenders have lately escaped punishment by reason of
court interference, I fear this man Brandon will have to
bear the brunt, in the London mind, of all these unpun-
ished crimes. It will be next to impossible to liberate him,
except by arranging privately with the keeper for his es-
cape. He could go down into the country and wait in
seclusion until it is all blown over, or until London has a
new victim, and then an order can be made pardoning him,
and he can return."
'* Pardoning him! What are you talking of, my lord?
He has done nothing to be pardoned for. He should be,
and shall be, rewarded." Mary spoke impetuously, but
caught herself and tried to remedy her blunder. " That
is, if I have heard the straight of it. I have been told that
the killing was done in the defense of two— women."
Think of this poor unconscious girl, so full of grief and
trouble, talking thus to Buckingham, who knew so much
more about the affair than even she, who had taken so act-
ive a part in it.
"Who told you of it?" asked the duke.
Mary saw she had made a mistake, and, after hesitat-
ing for a moment, answered : ' l Sir Edwin Caskoden.
He had it from Master Brandon, I suppose." Rather
adroit this was, but equidistant from both truth and effect-
iveness.
11 1 will go at once to London and arrange for Brandon's
escape," said Buckingham, preparing to leave. u But you
must not divulge the fact that I do it. It would] cost me
all the favor I enjoy with the people of London, though I
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses 113
would willingly lose that favor, a thousand times over, for
a smile from you."
She gave the smile, and as he left, followed his retiring
figure with her eyes, and thought: " After all, he has a
kind heart."
She breathed a sigh of relief, too, for she felt she had
accomplished Brandon's release and still retained her dan-
gerous secret, the divulging of which, she feared, would
harden Henry's heart against her blandishments and strand
her upon the throne of France.
But she was not entirely satisfied with the arrangement.
She knew that her obligation to Brandon was such as to
demand of her that she should not leave the matter of his
release to any other person, much less to an enemy such as
Buckingham. Yet the cost of his freedom by a direct act
of her own would be so great that she was tempted to take
whatever risk there might be in the way that had opened
itself to her. Not that she would not have made the sacri-
fice willingly, or would not have told Henry all if that
were the only chance to save Brandon's life, but the other
way, the one she had taken by Buckingham's help, seemed
safe, and, though not entirely satisfying, she could not see
how it could miscarry. Buckingham was notably jealous
of his knightly word, and she had unbounded faith in her
influence over him. In short, like many another person,
she was as wrong as possible just at the time when she
thought she was entirely right, and when the cost of a mis-
take was at its maximum.
She recoiled also from the thought of Brandon's " es-
cape," and it hurt her that he should be a fugitive from
the justice that should reward him, yet she quieted these
disturbing suggestions with the thought that it would be
only for a short time, and Brandon, she knew, would be
only too glad to make the sacrifice if it purchased for her
freedom from the worse than damnation that lurked in the
French marriage.
All this ran quickly through Mary's mind, and brought
relief ; but it did not cure the uneasy sense, weighing like
lead upon her heart, that she should take no chance with
8
'ii4 When Knighthood Was In Flower
this man's life, and should put no further weight of sacrifice
upon him, but should go to the king and tell him a
straightforward story, let it hurt where it would. With a
little meditation, however, came a thought which decided
the question and absolutely made everything bright again
for her, so great was her capability for distilling light.
She would go at once to Windsor with Jane, and would
dispatch a note to Brandon, at Newgate, telling him upon
his escape to come to her. He might remain in hiding in
the neighborhood of Windsor, and she could see him every
day. The time had come to Mary when to " see him
every day" would turn Plutonian shades into noonday
brightness and weave sunbeams out of utter darkness.
With Mary, to resolve was to act ; so the note was soon
dispatched by a page, and one hour later the girls were on
their road to Windsor.
Buckingham went to Newgate, expecting to make a vir-
tue, with Mary, out of the necessity imposed by the king's
command, in freeing Brandon. He had hoped to induce
Brandon to leave London stealthily and immediately, by
representing to him the evil consequences of a break be-
tween the citizens and the king, liable to grow out of his
release, and relied on Brandon's generosity to help him
out; but when he found the note which Mary's page had
delivered to the keeper of Newgate, he read it and all his
plans were changed.
He caused the keeper to send the note to the king, sup-
pressing the fact that he, Buckingham, had any knowledge
of it. The duke then at once started to Greenwich, where
he arrived and sought the king a few minutes before the
time he knew the messenger with Mary's note would come.
The king was soon found, and Buckingham, in apparent
anger, told him that the city authorities refused to deliver
Brandon except upon an order under the king's seal.
Henry and Buckingham were intensely indignant at the
conduct of the scurvy burghers, and an immense amount
of self-importance was displayed and shamefully wastedo
This manifestation was at its highest when the messenger
from Newgate arrived with Mary's poor little note as in-
tended by the duke.
Put Not Your Trust in Princesses 115
The note was handed to Henry, who read aloud as follows :
"70 Master Charles Brandon;
"GREETING — Soon you will be at liberty; perhaps, ere
this is to your hand. Surely would I not leave you long
in prison. I go to Windsor at once, there to live in the
hope that I may see you speedily.
"MARY."
"What is this?" cried Henry. "My sister writing to
Brandon? God's death! My Lord of Buckingham, the
suspicions you whispered in my ear may have some truth.
We will let this fellow remain in Newgate, and allow our
good people of London to take their own course with him."
Buckingham went to Windsor next day and told Mary
that arrangements had been made the night before for
Brandon's escape, and that he had heard that Brandon had
left for New Spain.
Mary thanked the duke, but had no smiles for any one.
Her supply was exhausted.
She remained at Windsor nursing her love for the sake
of the very pain it brought her, and dreading the battle for
more than life itself which she knew she should soon be
called upon to fight.
At times she would fall into one of her old fits of anger
because Brandon had not come to see her before he left,
but soon the anger melted into tears, and the tears brought
a sort of joy when she thought that he had run away
from her because he loved her. After Brandon's defense
of her in Billingsgate, Mary had begun to see the whole
situation differently, and everything was changed. She
still saw the same great distance between them as be-
fore, but with this difference, she was looking up now.
Before that event he had been plain Charles Brandon, and
she the Princess Mary. She was the princess still, but he
was a demi-god. No mere mortal, thought she, could be
so brave and strong and generous and wise; and above all,
no mere mortal could vanquish odds of four to one. In
the night she would lie on Jane's arm, and amid smothered
sobs, would softly talk of her lover, and praise his beauty
n6 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
and perfections, and pour her pathetic little tale over and
over again into Jane's receptive ear and warm responsive
heart ; and Jane answered with soft little kisses that would
have consoled Niobe herself. Then Mary would tell how
the doors of her life, at the ripe age of eighteen, were
closed forever and forever, and that her few remaining
years would be but years of waiting for the end. At other
times she would brighten, and repeat what Brandon had
told her about New Spain; how fortune's door was open
there to those who chose to come, and how he, the best
and bravest of them all, would surely win glory and for-
tune, and then return to buy her from her brother Henry
with millions of pounds of yellow gold. Ah, she would
wait! She would wait! Like Bayard she placed her
ransom at a high figure, and honestly thought herself worth
it. And so she was — to Brandon, or rather had been.
But at this particular time the market was down, as you
will shortly hear.
So Mary remained at Windsor and grieved and wept
and dreamed, and longed that she might see across the
miles of billowy ocean to her love ! her love ! her love !
Meanwhile Brandon had his trial in secret down in Lon-
don, and had been condemned to be hanged, drawn and
quartered for having saved to her more than life itself.
Put not your trust in princesses.
CHAPTER X
Justice, O King!
SUCH was the state of affairs when I returned from
France.
How I hated myself because I had not faced the king's
displeasure and had not refused to go until Brandon was
safely out of his trouble. It was hard for me to believe
that I had left such a matter to two foolish girls, one of
them as changeable as the wind, and the other completely
under her control. I could but think of the difference be-
tween myself and Brandon, and well knew, had I been in
his place, he would have liberated me or stormed the
very walls of London single-handed and alone.
When I learned that Brandon had been in that dungeon
all that long month, I felt that it would surely kill him,
and my self-accusation was so strong and bitter, and my
mental pain so great, that I resolved if my friend died,
either by disease contracted in the dungeon or by execution
of his sentence, that I would kill myself. But that is a
matter much easier sincerely to resolve upon than to exe-
cute when the time comes.
Next to myself, I condemned those wretched girls for
leaving Brandon to perish — Brandon, to whom they both
owed so much. It turned me against all womankind for
their selfish sake.
I did not dally this time. I trusted to no Lady Jane or
Lady Mary. I determined to go to the king at once and
tell him all. I did not care if the wretched Mary and Jane
both had to marry the French king, or the devil himself.
I did not care if they and all the host of their perfidious
n8 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
sisterhood went to the nether side of the universe, there to
remain forever. I would retrieve my fault, in so far as it
was retrievable, and save Brandon, who was worth them
all put together. I would tell Mary and Jane what I
thought of them, and that should end matters between us.
I felt as I did toward them not only because of their treat-
ment of Brandon, but because they had made me guilty of
a grievous fault, for which I should never, so long as I
lived, forgive myself. I determined to go to the king, and
go I did within five minutes of the time I heard that Bran-
don was yet in prison.
I found the king sitting alone at public dinner, and, of
course, was denied speech with him. I was in no humor
to be balked, so I thrust aside the guards, and, much to
everybody's fright, for I was wild with grief, rage and de-
spair, and showed it in every feature, rushed to the king
and fell upon my knees at his feet.
" Justice, O king! " I cried, and all the courtiers heard.
II Justice, O king! for the worst used man and the brav-
est, truest soul that ever lived and suffered." Here the
tears began to stream down my face and my voice choked
in my throat. " Charles Brandon, your majesty's one-time
friend, lies in a loathsome, rayless dungeon, condemned to
death, as your majesty may know, for the killing of two
men in Billingsgate Ward. I will tell you all : I should
be thrust out from the society of decent men for not having
told you before I left for France, but I trusted it to another
who has proved false. I will tell you all. Your sister,
the Lady Mary, and Lady Jane Bolingbroke were return-
ing alone, after dark, from a visit to the soothsayer Grou-
che, of whom your majesty has heard. I had been noti-
fied of the Lady Mary's intended visit to him, although
she had enjoined absolute secrecy upon my informant. I
could not go, being detained upon your majesty's service
— it was the night of the ball to the ambassadors— and I
asked Brandon to follow them, which he did, without the
knowledge of the princess. Upon returning, the ladies
were attacked by four ruffians, and would have met with
worse than death had not the bravest heart and the best
sword in England defended them victoriously against ouch
Justice, O King I 119
fearful odds. He left them at Bridewell without hurt or
injury, though covered with wounds himself. This man
is condemned to be hanged, drawn and quartered, but I
know not your majesty's heart if he be not at once reprieved
and richly rewarded. Think, my king! He saved the
royal honor of your sister, who is so dear to you, and has
suffered so terribly for his loyalty and bravery. The day
I left so hurriedly for France the Lady Mary promised she
would tell you all and liberate this man who had so nobly
served her; but she is a woman, and was born to betray."
The king laughed a little at my vehemence.
"What is this you are telling me, Sir Edwin? I know
of Brandon's death sentence, but as much as I regret it, I
can not interfere with the justice of our good people of
London for the murder of two knights on their streets. If
Brandon committed such a crime, and, I understand he
does not deny it, I can not help him, however much I
should like to do so. But this nonsense about my sister !
It can not be true. It must be trumped up out of your
love in order to save your friend. Have a care, good mas-
ter, how you say such a thing. If it were true, would
not Brandon have told it at his tiial ? "
4 'It is as true as that God lives, my king! If the Lady
Mary and Lady Jane do not bear me out in every word I
have said, let my life pay the forfeit. He would noc tell
of the great reason for killing the men, fearing to compro-
mise the honor of those whom he had saved, for, as your
majesty is aware, persons sometimes go to Grouche's for
purposes other than to listen to his soothsaying. Not in
this case, God knows, but there are slanderous tongues,
and Brandon was willing to die with closed lips, rather
than set them wagging against one so dear to you. It
seems that these ladies, who owe so much to him, are also
willing that he should die rather than themselves bear the
consequences of their own folly. Do not delay, I beseech
your majesty. Eat not another morsel, I pray you, until
this brave man, who has so truly served you, be taken from
his prison and freed frpm his sentence of death. Come,
come, my king! this moment, and all that I have, my
wealth, my life, my honor, are yours for all time."
130 When Knighthood Was In Flower
The king remained a moment in thought with knife in
hand.
"Caskoden, I have never detected you in a lie in all the
years I have known you ; you are not very large in body,
but your honor is great enough to stock a Goliath. I be-
lieve you are telling the truth. I will go at once to liber-
ate Brandon ; and that little hussy, my sister., shall go to
France and enjoy life as best she can with her old beauty,
King Louis. I know of no greater punishment to inflict
upon her. This determines me ; she shall coax me out
of it no longer. Sir Thomas Brandon, have my horses
ready, and I will go to the lord mayor, then to my lord
bishop of Lincoln and arrange to close this French treaty
at once. Let everybody know that the Princess Mary
will, within the month, be queen of France." This was
said to the courtiers, and was all over London before night.
I followed closely in the wake of the king, though unin-
vited, for I had determined to trust to no one, not even his
majesty, until Brandon should be free. Henry had said
he would go first to the lord mayor and then to Wolsey,
but after we crossed the Bridge he passed down Lower
Thames street and turned up Fish-street Hill into Grace
Church street on toward Bishopgate. He said he would
stop at Mistress Cornwallis's and have a pudding; and then
on to Wolsey, who at that time lodged in a house near the
wall beyond Bishopgate.
I well knew if the king once reached Wolsey 's, it would
be wine and quoits and other games, interspersed now and
then with a little blustering talk on statecraft, for the rest
of the day. Then the good bishop would have in a few
pretty London women and a dance would follow with wine
and cards and dice, and Henry would spend the night at
Wolsey' s, and Brandon lie another night in the mire of his
Newgate dungeon.
I resolved to raise heaven and earth, and the other
place, too, if necessary, before this should happen. So I
rode boldly up to the king, and with uncovered head ad-
dressed him: "Your majesty gave me your royal word
that you would go to the lord mayor first, and this is the
road to my lord bishop of Lincoln. In all the years J have
'I RODE UP TO THE KING AND
WITH UNCOVERED HEAD
ADDRESSED HIM . . . " p. 190
Justice, O King! 121
known your majesty, both as gallant prince and puissant
king, this is the first request I ever proffered, and now I
only ask of you to save your own noble honor, and do your
duty as man and king."
These were bold words, but I did not care one little
farthing whether they pleased him or not. The king stared
at me and said :
" Caskoden, you are a perfect fiste at my heels. But
you are right; I had forgotten my errand. You disturbed
my dinner, and my stomach called loudly for one of Mistress
Cornwallis's puddings; but you are right to stick to me.
What a friend you are in case of need. Would I had one
like youo"
"Your majesty has two of whom I know; one riding
humbly by your royal side, and the other lying in the worst
dungeon in Christendom."
With this the king wheeled about and started west toward
Guildhall.
Oh, how I hated Henry for that cold blooded, selfish
forgetfulness worse than crime ; and how I hoped the
Blessed Virgin would forget him in time to come, and leave
his soul an extra thousand years in purging flames, just to
show him how it goes to be forgotten — in hell.
To the lord mayor we accordingly went without further
delay. He was only too glad to liberate Brandon when
he heard my story, which the king had ordered me to re-
peat. The only hesitancy was from a doubt of its truth.
The lord mayor was kind enough to say that he felt lit-
tle doubt -of my word, but that friendship would often
drive a man to any extremity, even falsehood, to save a
friend.
Then I offered to go into custody myself and pay the
penalty, death, for helping a convicted felon to escape, if
I told not the truth, to be confirmed or denied by the
princess and her first lady in waiting. I knew Jane and
was willing to risk her truthfulness without a doubt — it was
so pronounced as to be troublesome at times — and as to
Mary — well, I had no doubt of her either. If she would
but stop to think out the right she was sure to do it.
_ I have often wondered how much of the general fund of
123 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
evil in this world comes from thoughtlessness. Cultivate
thought and you make virtue — I believe. But this is no
time to philosophize.
My offer was satisfactory, for what more can a man do
than pledge his life for his friend ? We have scripture for
that, or something like it.
The lord mayor did not require my proffered pledge,
but readily consented that the king should write an order
for Brandon's pardon and release. This was done at
once, and we, that is, I, together with a sheriff's sergeant
and his four yeomen, hastened to Newgate, while Henry
went over to Wolsey's to settle Mary's fate.
Brandon was brought up with chains and manacles at
his ankles and wrists. When he entered the room and
saw me, he exclaimed: "Ah! Caskoden, is that you? I
thought they had brought me up to hang me, and was glad
for the change ; but I suppose you would not come to help
at that, even if you have left me here to rot; God only
knows how long; I have forgotten."
I could not restrain the tears at sight of him.
" Your words are more than just," I said; and, being
anxious that he should know at once that my fault had not
been so great as it looked, continued hurriedly: " The
king sent me to France upon an hour's notice, the day
after your arrest. I know only too well I should not have
gone without seeing you out of this, but you had enjoined
silence upon me, and — and I trusted to the promises of
another."
41 1 thought as much. You are in no way to blame, my
friend; all I ask is that you never mention the subject
again."
" My friend!" Ah! the words were dear to me as
words of love from a sweetheart's lips.
I hardly recognized him, he was so frightfully covered
with filth and dirt and creeping things. His hair and
beard were unkempt and matted, and his eyes and cheeks
were lusterless and sunken ; but I will describe him no
further. Suffering had well-nigh done its work, and noth-
ing but the hardihood gathered in his years of camp life
and war could have saved him from death. I bathed and
Justice, O King! 123
reclothed him as well as I could at Newgate, and then took
him home to Greenwich in a horse litter, where my man
and I thoroughly washed, dressed and sheared the poor
fellow and put him to bed.
" Ah ! this bed is a foretaste of paradise," he said, as he
lay upon the mattress.
It was a pitiful sight, and I could hardly refrain from
tears. I sent my man to fetch a certain Moor, a learned
scholar, though a hated foreigner, who lived just off Cheap
and sold small arms, and very soon he was with us. Bran-
don and I both knew him well, and admired his learning
and gentleness, and loved him for his sweet philosophy of
life, the leaven of which was charity — a modest little plant
too often overshadowed by the rank growth of pompous
dogmatism.
The Moor was learned in the healing potions of the east,
and insisted, privately, of course, that all the shrines and
relics in Christendom put together could not cure an ache
in a baby's little finger. This, perhaps, was going too
far, for there are some relics that have undoubted potency,
but in cases where human agency can cure, the people of
the east are unquestionably far in advance of us in knowl-
edge of remedies. The Moor at once gave Brandon a
soothing drink, which soon put him into a sweet sleep.
He then bathed him as he slept, with some strengthening
lotion, made certain learned signs, and spoke a few cabalis-
tic words, and, sure enough, so strong were the healing
remedies and incantations that the next morning Brandon
was another man, though very far from well and strong.
The Moor recommended nutritious food, such as roast beef
and generous wine, and, although this advice was contrary
to the general belief, which is, with apparent reason, that
the evil spirit of disease should be starved and driven out,
yet so great was our faith in him that we followed his direc-
tions, and in a few days Brandon had almost regained his
old-time strength.
I will ask you to go back with me for a moment.
During the week, between Brandon's interview witn
Mary in the ante-room of the king's bed-chamber and the
tragedy in Billingsgate, he and I had many conversations
124 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
about the extraordinary situation in which he found him-
self.
At one time, I remember, he said : " I was safe enough
before that afternoon. I believe I could have gone away
and forgotten her eventually, but our mutual avowal seems
to have dazed me and paralyzed every power for effort. I
sometimes feel helpless, and, although I have succeeded
in keeping away from her since then, often find myself
wavering in my determination to leave England. That
was what I feared if I allowed the matter to go to the point
of being sure of her love. I only wanted it before, and very
easily made myself believe it was impossible, and not for
me. But now that I know she loves me it is like holding
my breath to live without her. I feel every instant that I
can hold it no longer. I know only too well that if I but
see her face once more I shall breathe. She is the very
breath of life for me. She is mine by the gift of God.
Curses upon those who keep us apart." Then musingly
and half interrogatively: " She certainly does love me.
She could not have treated me as she did unless her love
was so strong that she could not resist it."
u Let no doubt of that trouble you," I answered. " A
woman like Mary can not treat two men as she treated you.
Many a woman may love, or think she loves many times,
but there is only one man who receives the full measure
of her best. Other women, again, have nothing .to give
but their best, and when they have once given that, they
have given all. Unless I have known her in vain, Mary,
with all her faults, is such a woman. Again I say, let no
doubt of that trouble you."
Brandon answered with a sad little smile from the midst
of his reverie. " It is really not so much the doubt as the
certainty of it that troubles me." Then, starting to his
feet: " If I thought she had lied to me; if I thought she
could wantonly lead me on to suffer so for her, I would kill
her, so help me God."
" Do not think that. Whatever her faults, and she has
enough, there is no man on earth for her but you. Her
love has come to her through a struggle against it because
it was her master. That is the strongest and best, in fact
Jx*tice,O King! 125
only, love; worth all the self-made passions in the
world."
"Yes, I believe it. I know she has faults; even my
partiality can not blind me to them, but she is as pure and
chaste as a child, and as gentle, strong and true as — as — a
woman. I can put it no stronger. She has these, her re-
deeming virtues, along with her beauty, from her plebeian
grandmother, Elizabeth Woodville, who, with them, won
a royal husband and elevated herself to the throne beside
the chivalrous Edward. This sweet plebeian heritage bub-
bles up in the heart of Mary, and will not down, but neu-
tralizes the royal poison in her veins and makes a goddess
of her." Then with a sigh : "But if her faults were a
thousand times as many, and if each fault were a thousand
times as great, her beauty would atone for all. Such
beauty as hers can afford to have faults. Look at Helen
and Cleopatra, and Agnes Sorel. Did their faults make
them less attractive? Beauty covereth more sins than
charity — and maketh more grief than pestilence."
The last clause was evidently an afterthought.
After his month in Newgate with the hangman's noose
about his neck all because of Mary's cruel neglect, I won-
dered if her beauty would so easily atone for her faults. I
may as well tell you that he changed his mind concerning
this particular doctrine of atonement*
CHAPTER XI
Louis XIX a Suitor
As SOON as I could leave Brandon,! had intended to go
down to Windsor and give vent to my indignation toward
the girls, but the more I thought about it, the surer I felt
there had, somehow, been a mistake. I could not bring
myself to believe that Mary had deliberately permitted
matters to go to such an extreme when it was in her
power to prevent it. She might have neglected her duty
for a day or two, but, sooner or later, her good impulses
always came to her rescue, and, with Jane by her side to
urge her on, I was almost sure she would have liberated
Brandon long ago— barring a blunder of some sort.
So I did not go to Windsor until a week after Brandon's
release, when the king asked me to go down with him,
Wolsey and de Longueville, the French ambassador-special,
for the purpose of officially offering to Mary the hand of
Louis XII, and the honor of becoming queen of France.
The princess had known of the projected arrangement
for many weeks, but had no thought of the present forward
condition of affairs, or she would have brought her energies
to bear upon Henry long before. She could not bring her-
self to believe that her brother would really force her into
such wretchedness, and possibly he would never have done
so, as much as he desired it from the standpoint of personal
ambition, had it not been for the petty excuse of that fatal
trip to Grouche's.
All the circumstances of the case were such as to make
Mary's marriage a veritable virgin sacrifice. Louis was an
old man, and an old Frenchman at that; full of French
Louis XH a Suitor 127
notions of morality and immorality; and besides, there
were objections that can not be written, but of which
Henry and Mary had been fully informed. She might as
well marry a leper. Do you wonder she was full of dread
and fear, and resisted with the desperation of death ?
So Mary, the person most interested, was about the last
to learn that the treaty had been signed.
Windsor was nearly eight leagues from London, and at
that time was occupied only by the girls and a few old
ladies and servants, so that news did not travel fast in that
direction from the city. It is also probable that, even if
report of the treaty and Brandon's release had reached
Windsor, the persons hearing it would have hesitated to
repeat it to Mary. However that may be, she had no
knowledge of either until she was informed of the fact that
the king and the French ambassador would be at Windsor
on a certain day to make the formal request for her hand
and offer the gifts of King Louis.
1 had no doubt Mary was in trouble, and felt sure she
had been making affairs lively about her. I knew her
suffering was keen, but was glad of it in view of her treat-
ment of Brandon.
A day or two after Brandon's liberation I had begun to
speak to him of the girls, but he interrupted me with a
frightful oath : u Caskoden, you are my friend, but if you
ever mention their names again in my hearing you are my
friend no longer. I will curse you."
I was frightened, so much stronger did his nature show
than mine, and took good care to remain silent on that sub-
ject until — but I am going too fast again ; I will tell you
of that hereafter.
Upon the morning appointed, the king, Wolsey, de
Longueville and myself, with a small retinue, rode over
to Windsor, where we found that Mary, anticipating us,
had barricaded herself in her bedroom and refused to re-
ceive the announcement. The king went up stairs to coax
at the fair young besieged through two inches of oak door,
and to induce her, if possible, to come down. We below
could plainly hear the king pleading in the voice of a Bash-
an bull, and it afforded us some amusement behind our
128 When Knighthood Was In Flower
hands. Then his majesty grew angry and threatened to
break down the door, but the fair besieged maintained a
most persistent and provoking silence throughout it all, and
allowed him to cany out his threat without so much as a
whimper. He was thoroughly angry, and called to us to
come up to see him ' 'compel obedience from the self-
willed hussy, " — a task the magnitude of which he under-
rated.
The door was soon broken down, and the king walked
in first, with de Longueville and Wolsey next, and the
rest of us following in close procession. But we marched
over broken walls to the most laughable defeat ever suf-
fered by besieging army. Our foe, though small, was al-
together too fertile in expedients for us. There seemed
no way to conquer this girl ; her resources were so in-
exhaustible that in the moment of your expected victory
success was turned into defeat ; nay, more, ridiculous dis-
aster.
We found Jane crouching on the floor in a corner half
dead with fright from the noise and tumult — and where do
you think we found her mistress ? Frightened ? Not at
all ; she was lying in bed with her face to the wall as cool
as a January morning ; her clothing in a little heap in the
middle of the room.
Without turning her head, she exclaimed: "Come in,
brother ; you are quite welcome. Bring in your friends ;
I am ready to receive them, though not in court attire, as
you see. " And she thrust her bare arm straight up from
the bed to prove her words. You should have seen the
Frenchman's little black eyes gloat on its beauty.
Mary went on, still looking toward the wall: "I will
arise and receive you all informally, if you will but wait."
This disconcerted the imperturbable Henry, who was
about at his wit's end.
'* Cover that arm, you hussy," he cried in a flaming rage.
"Be not impatient, brother mine I I will jump out in
just a moment."
A little scream from Jane startled everybody, and she
quickly ran up to the king, saying: "I beg your majesty
to go. She will do as she says so sure as you remain ; you
Louis XII a Suitor 129
don't know her; she is very angry. Please go; I will
bring her down stairs somehow."
"Ah, indeed! Jane Bolingbroke," came from the bed.
44 1 will receive my guests myself when they are kind
enough to come to my room. ' ' The coverlid began to move,
and, whether or not she was really going to carry out her
threat, I can not say, but Henry, knowing her too well to
risk it, hurried us all out of the room and marched down
stairs at the head of his defeated cohorts. He was swear-
ing in a way to make a priest's flesh creep, and protesting
by everything holy that Mary should be the wife of Louis
or die. He went back to Mary's room at intervals, but
there was enough persistence in that one girl to stop
the wheels of time, if she but set herself to do it, and the
king came away from each visit the victim of another
rout.
Finally his anger cooled and he became amused. From
the last visit he came down laughing:
44 1 shall have to give up the fight or else put my armor
on with visor down," said he; u it is not safe to go near
her without it; she is a very vixen, and but now tried to
scratch my eyes out."
Wolsey, who had a wonderful knack for finding the eas-
iest means to a difficult end, took Henry off to a window
where they held a whispered conversation.
It was pathetic to see a mighty king and his great min-
ister of state consulting and planning against one poor
girl ; and, as angry as I felt toward Mary, I could not help
pitying her, and admired, beyond the power of pen to
write, the valiant and so far impregnable defense she had
put up against an array of strength that would have made
a king tremble on his throne.
Presently Henry gave one of his loud laughs, and slapped
his thigh as if highly satisfied with some proposition of
Wolsey 's.
44 Make ready at once," he said. 4t We will go back to
London."
In a short time we were all at the main stairway ready
to mount for the return trip,
9
130 When Knighthood Was In Flowe*
The Lady Mary's window was just above, and I saw
Jane watching us as we rode away.
After we were well out of Mary's sight the king called
me to him, and he, together with de Longueville, Wolsey
and myself, turned our horses' hjeads, rode rapidly by a
circuitous path back to another door of the castle and re-
entered without the knowledge of any of the inmates.
We four remained in silence, enjoined by the king, and
in the course of an hour, the princess, supposing every one
had gone, came down stairs and walked into the room
where we were waiting^
It was a scurvy trick, and I felt a contempt for the men
who had planned it. I could see that Mary's first impulse
was to beat a hasty retreat back into her citadel, the bed,
but in truth she had in her make-up very little disposition
to retreat. She was clear grit. What a man she would
have made ! But what a crime it would have been in na-
ture to have spoiled so perfect a woman. How beautiful
she was! She threw one quick, surprised glance at her
brother and his companions, and lifting up her exquisite
head carelessly hummed a little tune under her breath as
she marched to the other end of the room with a gait that
Juno herself could not have improved upon.
I saw the king smile, half in pride of her, and half in
amusement, and the Frenchman's little eyes feasted upon
her beauty with a relish that could not be mistaken.
Henry and the ambassador spoke a word in whispers,
when the latter took a box from a huge side pocket and
started across the room toward Mary with the king at his
heels.
Her side was toward them when they came up, but she
kept her attitude as if she had been of bronze. She had
taken up a book that was lying on the table and was exam-
ining it as they approached.
De Longueville held the box in his hand, and bowing and
scraping said in broken English: "Permit to me, most
gracious princess, that I may have the honor to offer on be-
half of my august master, this little testament of his high
admiration and love." With this he bowed again, smiled
like a crack in a piece of old parchment, and held his box
Louis XII a Suitor 131
toward Mary. It was open, probably in the hope of en-
ticing her with a sight of its contents — a beautiful diamond
necklace.
She turned her face ever so little and took it all in with
one contemptuous, sneering glance out of the corners of
her eyes. Then quietly reaching out her hand she grasped
the necklace and deliberately dashed it in poor old de
Longueville's face.
1 c There is my answer, sir ! Go home and tell your
imbecile old master I scorn his suit and hate him — hate him
—hate him !" Then with the tears falling unheeded down
her cheeks, " Master Wolsey, thou butcher's cur! This
trick was of your conception; the others had not brains
enough to think of it. Are you not proud to have outwit-
ted one poor heart-broken girl? But beware, sir; I tell
you now I will be quits with you yet, or my name is not
Mary."
There is a limit to the best of feminine nerve, and at
that limit should always be found a flood of healthful tears.
Mary had reached it when she threw the necklace and shot
her bolt at Wolsey, so she broke down and hastily left the
room.
^ The king, of course, was beside himself with rage.
uBy God's soul," he swore, " she shall marry Louis of
France, or I will have her whipped to death on the Smith-
field pillory." And in his wicked heart — so impervious
to a single lasting good impulse — he really meant it.
Immediately after this, the king, de Longueville and
Wolsey set out for London.
I remained behind hoping to see the girls, and after a
short time a page plucked me by the sleeve, saying the
princess wished to see me.
The page conducted me to the same room in which had
been fought the battle with Mary in bed. The door had
been placed on its hinges again, but the bed was tumbled
as Mary had left it, and the room was in great disorder.
" Oh, Sir Edwin," began Mary, who was weeping,
" was ever woman in such frightful trouble? My brother
is killing me. Can he not see that I could not live through
a week of this marriage ? And I have been deserted by
133 When Knighthood Was In Flowet
all my friends, too, excepting Jane. She, poor thing, can
not leave."
"You know I would not go," said Jane, parentheti-
cally. Mary continued: " You, too, have been home an
entire week and have not been near me."
I began to soften at the sight of her grief, and conclud-
ed, with Brandon, that, after all, her beauty could well
cover a multitude of sins; perhaps even this, her great
transgression against him.
The princess was trying to check her weeping, and in a
moment took up the thread of her unfinished sentence :
"And Master Brandon, too, left without so much as send-
ing me one little word — not a line nor syllable. He did
not come near me, but went off as if I did not care — or he
did not. Of course he did not care, or he would not have
behaved so, knowing I was in so much trouble. I did not
see him at all after — one afternoon in the king's — about a
week before that awful night in London, except that night,
when I was so frightened I could not speak one word of
all the things I wished to say."
This sounded strange enough, and I began more than
ever to suspect something wrong. I, however, kept as
firm a grasp as possible upon the stock of indignation I
had brought with me.
" How did you expect to see or hear from him," asked
I, "when he was lying in a loathsome dungeon without
one ray of light, condemned to be hanged, drawn and
quartered, because of your selfish neglect to save him who,
at the cost of half his blood, and almost his life, had saved
so much for you?"
Her eyes grew big, and the tears were checked by gen-
uine surprise.
I continued; "Lady Mary, no one could have made
me believe that you would stand back and let the man, to
whom you owed so great a debt, lie so long in such mis-
ery, and be condemned to such a death for the act that
saved you. I could never have believed it! "
"Imp of hell! " screamed Mary; " what tale is this you
bring to torture me? Have I not enough already? Tell
Louis XII a Suitor 133
me it is a lie, or I will have your miserable little tongue
torn out by the root."
64 It is no lie, princess, but an awful truth, and a fright-
ful shame to you."
I was determined to tell her all and let her see herself as
she was.
She gave a hysterical laugh, and, throwing up her
hands, with her accustomed little gesture, fell upon the
bed in utter abandonment, shaking as with a spasm. She
did not weep ; she could not ; she was past that now. Jane
went over to the bed and tried to soothe her.
In a moment Mary sprang to her feet, exclaiming:
''Master Brandon condemned to death and you and I
here talking and moaning and weeping? Come, come, we
will go to the king at once. We will start to walk, Edwin
—I must be doing something— -and Jane can follow with
the horses and overtake us. No ; I will not dress ; just
as I am ; this will do. Bring me a hat, Jane ; any one,
any one." While putting on hat and gloves she contin-
ued: "I will see the king at once and tell him all! all!
I will do anything; I will marry that old king of France,
or forty kings, or forty devils ; it's all one to me ; any-
thing! anything! to save him. Oh! to think that he has
been in that dungeon all this time." And the tears came
unheeded in a deluge.
She was under such headway, and spoke and moved so
rapidly, that I could not stop her until she was nearly ready
to go. Then I held her by the arm while I said :
44 It is not necessary now; you are too late."
A look of horror came into her face, and I continued
slowly: 44I procured Brandon's release nearly a week
ago; I did what you should have done, and he is now at
our rooms in Greenwich."
Mary looked at me a moment, and, turning pale, pressed
her hands to her heart and leaned against the door frame.
After a short silence she said: 44 Edwin Caskoden —
fool! Why could you not have told me that at first? I
thought my brain would burn and my heart burst."
44 1 should have told you had you given me time. As
to the pain it gave you — " this was the last charge of my
134 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
large magazine of indignation — "I care very little about
that. You deserve it. I do not know what explanation
you have to offer, but nothing can excuse you. An expla-
nation, however good, would have been little comfort to
you had Brandon failed you in Billingsgate that night."
She had fallen into a chair by this time, and sat in rev-
erie, staring at nothing. Then the tears came again, but
more softly.
u You are right ; nothing can excuse me. I am the most
selfish, ungrateful, guilty creature ever born. A whole
month in that dungeon! " And she covered her drooping
face with her hands.
" Go away for a while Edwin, and then return ; we shall
want to see you again," said Jane.
Upon my return Mary was more composed. Jane had
dressed her hair, and she was sitting on the bed in her rid-
ing habit, hat in hand. Her fingers were nervously toy-
ing at the ribbons and her eyes cast down.
"You are surely right, Sir Edwin. I have no excuse.
I can have none ; but I will tell you how it was. You re-
member the day you left me in the waiting-room of the
king's council ? — when they were discussing my marriage
without one thought of me, as if I were but a slave or a
dumb brute that could not feel." She began to weep a
little, but soon recovered herself. "While waiting for
you to return, the Duke of Buckingham came in. I knew
Henry was trying to sell me to the French king, and my
heart was full of trouble — from more causes than you can
know. All the council, especially that butcher's son, were
urging him on, and Henry himself was anxious that the
marriage should be brought about. He thought it would
strengthen him for the imperial crown. He wants every-
thing, and is ambitious to be emperor. Emperor! He
would cut a pretty figure ! I hoped, though, I should be
able to induce him not to sacrifice me to his selfish inter-
ests, as I have done before, but I knew only too well it
would tax my powers to the utmost this time. I knew
that if I did anything to anger or antagonize him, it would
be all at an end with me. You know he is so exact-
ing with other people's conduct, for one who is so care-
Louis Xn a Suitor 135
less of his own — so virtuous by proxy. You remember
how cruelly he disgraced and crushed poor Lady Chester-
field, who was in such trouble about her husband, and
who went to Grouche's only to learn if he were true to
her. Henry seems to be particularly sensitive in that
direction. One would think it was in the commandments :
* Thou shalt not go to Grouche's. ' It may be that some
have gone there for other purposes than to have their for-
tunes told — to meet, to — but I need not say that I — " and
she stopped short, blushing to her hair.
"Well, I knew I could do nothing with Henry if he
once learned of that visit, especially as it resulted so fatal-
ly. Oh ! why did I go ? Why did I go ? That was why
I hesitated to tell Henry at once. I was hoping some
other way wrould open whereby I might save Charles —
Master Brandon. While I was waiting, along came the
Duke of Buckingham, and as I knew he was popular in
London, and had almost as much influence there as the
king, a thought came to me that he might help us.
" I knew that he and Master Brandon had passed a few
angry words at one time in my ball-room — you remember
—but I also knew that the duke was in — in love with me,
you know, or pretended to be — he always said he was —
and I felt sure I could, by a little flattery, induce him to
do anything. He was always protesting that he would
give half his blood to serve me. As if anybody wanted
a drop of his wretched blood. Poor Master Brandon ! his
blood . . . ." and the tears came, choking her words for
the moment. " So I told the duke I had promised you
and Jane to procure Master Brandon's liberty, and asked
him to do it for me. He gladly consented, and gave me
his knightly word that it should be attended to without
an hour's delay. He said it might have to be done
secretly in the way of an escape — not officially — as the Lon-
doners were very jealous of their rights and much aroused
on account of the killing. Especially, he said that at
that time great caution must be used, as the king was anx-
ious to conciliate the city in order to procure a loan for
some purpose — my dower, I suppose.
"The duke said it should be as I wished; that Master
136 When Knighthood Was In Flowcf
Brandon should escape, and remain away from London
for a few weeks until the king procured his loan, and then
be freed by royal proclamation.
" I saw Buckingham the next day, for I was very anx-
ious, you may be sure, and he said the keeper of New-
gate had told him it had been arranged the night be-
fore as desired. I had come to Windsor because it was
more quiet, and my heart was full. It is quite a dis-
tance from London, and I thought it might afford a better
opportunity to — to see — I thought, perhaps, Master Bran-
don might come — might want to — to — see Jane and me ; in
fact I wrote him before I left Greenwich that I would be
here. Then I heard he had gone to New Spain. Now you
see how all my troubles have come upon me at once ; and
this the greatest of them, because it is my fault. I can ask
no forgiveness from any one, for I can not forgive my-
self."
She then inquired about Brandon's health and spirits,
and I left out no distressing detail you may be sure.
During my recital she sat with downcast eyes and tear-
stained face, playing with the ribbons of her hat.
When I was ready to go she said: "Please say to
Master Brandon I should like — to — see — him, if he cares
to come, if only that I may tell him how it happened."
"I greatly fear, in fact, I know he will not come,"
said I. " The crudest blow of all, worse even than the
dungeon, or the sentence of death, was your failure to save
him. He trusted you so implicitly. At the time of his
arrest he refused to allow me to tell the king, saying he
knew you would see to it — that you were pure gold."
u Ah, did he say that?" she asked, as a sad little smile
lighted her face.
u His faith was so entirely without doubt, that his recoil
from you is correspondingly great. He goes to New
Spain as soon as his health is recovered sufficiently for him
to travel."
This sent the last fleck of color from her face, and with
the words almost choking her throat: "Then tell him
what I have said to you and perhaps he will not feel so — "
" I can not do that either, Lady Mary. When I men-
Louis XH a Suitor i$7
tioned your name the other day he said he would curse
me if I ever spoke it again in his hearing."
"Is it so bad as that?" Then, meditatively: " And
at his trial he did not tell the reason for the killing ? Would
not compromise me, who had served him so ill, even to
save his own life? Noble, noble!" And her lips went
together as she rose to her feet. No tears now ; nothing
but glowing, determined womanhood.
"Then I will go to him wherever he may be. He
shall forgive me, no matter what my fault."
Soon after this we were on our way to London at a
brisk gallop.
We were all very silent, but at one time Mary spoke
up from the midst of a reverie: "During the moment
when I thought Master Brandon had been executed —
when you said it was too late — it seemed that I was
born again and all made over; that I was changed in
the very texture of my nature by the shock, as they say
the grain of the iron cannon is sometimes changed by too
violent an explosion." And this proved to be true in some
respects.
We rode on rapidly and did not stop in London except
to give the horses drink.
After crossing the bridge, Mary said, half to Jane and
half to herself: "I will never marry the French king
— never." Mary was but a girl pitted against a body of
brutal men, two of them rulers of the two greatest nations
on earth — rather heavy odds, for one woman.
We rode down to Greenwich and entered the palace
without exciting comment, as the princess was in the habit
of going and coming at will.
The king and queen and most of the courtiers were in
London — at Bridewell and Baynard Castle — where Henry
was vigorously pushing the loan of five hundred thousand
crowns for Mary's dower, the only business of state in
which, at that time, he took any active interest. Subse-
quently, as you know, he became interested in the divorce
laws, and the various methods whereby a man, especially
a king, might rid himself of a distasteful wife ; and after he
saw the truth in Anne Boleyn's eyes, he adopted a combined
138 When Knighthood Was In Fiowe*
policy of church and state craft that has brought us a deal
of senseless trouble ever since — and is like to keep it up.
As to Mary's dower, Henry was to pay Louis only four
hundred thousand crowns, but he made the marriage an
excuse for an extra hundred thousand, to be devoted to his
own private use.
When we arrived at the palace, the girls went to thev.,
apartments and I to mine, where I found Brandon read-
ing. There was only one window to our common room
— a dormer-window, set into the roof, and reached by
a little passage as broad as the window itself, and perhaps
a yard and a half long. In the alcove thus formed was a
bench along the wall, cushioned by Brandon's great cam-
paign cloak. In this window we often sat and read, and
here was Brandon with his book. I had intended to tell
him the girls were coming, for when Mary asked me if 1
thought he would come to her at the palace, and when
I had again said no, she reiterated her intention of going
to him at once ; but my courage failed me and I did not
speak of it.
I knew that Mary ought not to come to our room, and
that if news of it should reach the king's ears there would
be more and worse trouble than ever, and, as usual, Brandon
would pay the penalty for all. Then again, if it were
discovered it might seriously compromise both Mary and
Jane, as the world is full of people who would rather
say and believe an evil thing of another than to say their
prayers or believe the holy creed.
I had said as much to the Lady Mary when she expressed
her determination to go to Brandon. She had been in the
wrong so much of late that she was humbled, and I was
brave enough to say whatever I felt ; but she said she had
thought it all over, and as every one was away from Green-
wich it would not be found out if done secretly.
She told Jane she need not go; that she, Mary, did
not want to take any risk of compromising her.
You see, trouble was doing a good work in the princess,
and had made it possible for a generous thought for an-
other to find spontaneous lodgment in her heart. What a
great thing it is, this human suffering, which so sensitizes
Louis XH a Suitor 139
our sympathy, and makes us tender to another's pain.
Nothing else so fits us for earth or prepares us for heaven.
Jane would have gone, though, had she known that all
her fair name would go with her. She was right, you see,
when she told me, while riding over to Windsor, that
should Mary's love blossom into a full-blown passion she
would wreck everything and everybody, including herself
perhaps, to attain the object of so great a desire.
It looked now as if she were on the high road to that end.
Nothing short of chains and fetters could have kept her
from going to Brandon that evening. There was an in-
herent force about her that was irresistible and swept every-
thing before it.
In our garret she was to meet another will, stronger and
infinitely better controlled than her own, and I did not
know how it would all turn out.
CHAPTER XH
Atonement
I HAD not been long in the room when a knock at the
door announced the girls. I admitted them, and Mary
walked to the middle of the floor. It was just growing dark
and the room was quite dim, save at the window where
Brandon sat reading. Gods ! those were exciting moments ;
my heart beat like a woman's. Brandon saw the girls
when they entered, but never so much as looked up from
his book. You must remember he had a great grievance.
Even looking at it from Mary's side of the case, certainly
its best point of view, he had been terribly misused, and
it was all the worse that the misuse had come from one
who, from his standpoint, had pretended to love him, and
had wantonly led him on, as he had the best of right to
think, to love her, and to suffer the keenest pangs a heart
can know. Then you must remember he did not know
even the best side of the matter, bad as it was, but saw
only the naked fact, that in recompense for his great help
in time of need, Mary had deliberately allowed him to lie
in that dungeon a long, miserable month, and would have
suffered him to die. So it was no wonder his heart was
filled with bitterness toward her. Jane and I had re-
mained near the door, and poor Mary was a pitiable prin-
cess, standing there so full of doubt in the middle of the
room. After a moment she stepped toward the window,
and, with quick-coming breath, stopped at the threshold of
the little passage.
" Master Brandon, I have come, not to make excuses,
for nothing can excuse me, but to tell you how it all hap-
pened— by trusting to another."
(140)
Atonement 141
Brandon arose, and marking the place in his book with
his finger, followed Mary, who had stepped backward into
the room.
* c Your highness is very gracious and kind thus to honor
me, but as our ways will hereafter lie as far apart as the
world is broad, I think it would have been far better had
you refrained from so imprudent a visit ; especially as any-
thing one so exalted as yourself may have to say can be no
affair of such as I — one just free of the hangman's noose."
" Oh! don't! I pray you. Let me tell you, and it may
make a difference. It must pain you, I know, to think of
me as you do, after — after — you know; after what has
passed between us."
4 'Yes, that only makes it all the harder. If you could
give your kisses — " and she blushed red as blood — "to
one for whom you care so little that you could leave him
to die like a dog, when a word from you would have saved
him, what reason have I to suppose they are not for every
man?"
This gave Mary an opening of which she was quick
enough to take advantage, for Brandon was in the wrong.
" You know that is not true. You are not honest with
me nor with yourself, and that is not like you. You know
that no other man ever had, or could have, any favor from
me, even the slightest. Wantonness is not among my
thousand faults. It is not that which angers you. You
are sure enough of me in that respect. In truth, I had al-
most come to believe you were too sure, that I had grown
cheap in your eyes, and you did not care so much as I
thought and hoped for what I had to give, for after that
day you came not near me at all. I know it was the part
of wisdom and prudence that you should remain away;
but had you cared as much as I, your prudence would not
have held you."
She hung her head a moment in silence ; then, looking
at him, almost ready for tears, continued : "A man has no
right to speak in that way of a woman whose little favors
he has taken, and make her regret that she has given a
gift only that it may recoil upon her. * Little,' did I say?
Sir, do you know what that — first — kiss was to me? Had
142 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
I possessed all the crowns of all the earth I would have
given them to you as willingly. Now you know the value
I placed on it, however worthless it was to you. Yet I
was a cheerful giver of that great gift, was I not? And
can you find it in your heart to make of it a shame to me
—that of which I was so proud?"
She stood there with head inclined a little to one side,
looking at him inquiringly as if awaiting an answer. He
did not speak, but looked steadily at his book. I felt,
however, that he was changing, and was sure her beauty,
never more exquisite than in its present humility, would
yet atone for even so great a fault as hers. Err, look beau-
tiful, and receive remission ! Such a woman as Mary car-
ries her indulgence in her face.
I now began to realize for the first time the wondrous
power of this girl, and ceased to marvel that she had al-
ways been able to turn even the king, the most violent,
stubborn man on earth, to her own wishes. Her manner
made her words eloquent, and already, with true feminine
tactics, she had put Brandon in the wrong in everything be-
cause he was wrong in part.
Then she quickly went over what she had said to me.
She told of her great dread lest the king should learn of
the visit to Grouche's and its fatal consequences, know-
ing full well it would render Henry impervious to her in-
fluence and precipitate the French marriage. She told
him of how she was going to the king the day after the
arrest to ask his release, and of the meeting with Bucking-
ham, and his promise.
Still Brandon said nothing, and stood as if politely wait-
ing for her to withdraw.
She remained silent a little time, waiting for him to speak,
when tears, partly of vexation, I think, moistened her eyes.
" Tell me at least," she said, " that you know I speak
the truth. I have always xbelieved in you, and now ask for
your faith. I would not lie to you in the faintest shading
of a thought — not for heaven itself — not even for your love
and forgiveness, as much as they are to me, and I want to
know that you are sure of my truthfulness, if you doubt
all else. You see I speak plainly of what your love is to
Atonement 143
me, for although, by remaining away, you made me fear I
had been too lavish with my favors — that is every woman's
fear — I knew in my heart you loved me ; that you could
not have done and said what you did otherwise. Now
you see what faith I have in you, and you a man, whom
a woman's instinct prompts to doubt. How does it
compare with your faith in me, a woman, whom all the
instincts of a manly nature should dispose to trust? It
seems to be an unwritten law that a man may lie to a
woman concerning the most important thing in life to her,
and be proud of it, but you see even now I have all faith
in your love for me, else I surely should not be here. You
see I trust even your unspoken word, when it might, with-
out much blame to you, be a spoken lie ; yet you do not
trust me, who have no world-given right to speak falsely
about such things, and when that which I now do is full of
shame for me, and what I have done full of guilt, if inspired
by aught but the purest truth from my heart of hearts. Your
words mean so much — so much more, I think, than you
realize — and are so cruel in turning to evil the highest,
purest impulse a woman can feel — the glowing pride in
self-surrender, and the sweet, delightful privilege of giving
where she loves. How can you? How can you?"
How eloquent she was ! It seemed to me this would
have melted the frozen sea, but I think Brandon felt that
now his only hope lay in the safeguard of his constantly
upheld indignation.
When he spoke he ignored all she had said.
11 You did well to employ my Lord of Buckingham. It
will make matters more interesting when I tell you it was
he who attacked you and was caught by the leg under his
wounded horse; he was lame, I am told, for some time
afterward. I had watched him following you from the
gate at Bridewell, and at once recognized him when his
mask fell off during the fight up by the wall. You have
done well at every step, I see."
" Oh, God ! to think of it ! Had I but known ! Buck-
angham shall pay for this with his head ; but how could I
know? I was but a poor, distracted girl, sure to make
some fatal error. I was in such agony — your wounds—
144 "When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
believe me, I suffered more from them than you could.
Every pain you felt was a pang for me — and then that awful
marriage ! I was being sold like a wretched slave to that
old satyr, to be gloated over and feasted upon. No man
can know the horror of that thought to a woman — to any
woman, good or bad. To have one's beauty turn to curse
her and make her desirable only — only as well-fed cattle
are prized. No matter how great the manifestation of
such so-called love, it all the more repels a woman and
adds to her loathing day by day. Then there was some-
thing else worse than all," — she was almost weeping now
— " I might have been able to bear the thought even of
that hideous marriage — others have lived through the like
— but — but after — that — that day — when you — it seemed
that your touch was a spark dropped into a heart full of tin-
der, which had been lying there awaiting it all these years.
In that one moment the flame grew so intense I could not
withstand it. My throat ached ; I could scarcely breathe, and
it seemed that my heart would burst." Here the tears
gushed forth as she took a step toward him with out-
stretched arms, and said between her sobs: "I wanted
you, you ! for my husband — for my husband, and I could
not bear the torturing thought of losing you or enduring
any other man. I could not give you up after that — it
was all too late, too late; it had gone too far. I was
lost! lost!"
He sprang to where she stood leaning toward him, and
caught her to his breast.
She held him from her while she said: "Now you
know- — now you know that I would not have left you in
that terrible place, had I known it. No, not if it had taken
my life to buy your freedom."
" I do know; I do know. Be sure of that; I know it
and shall know it always, whatever happens; nothing can
change me. I will never doubt you again. It is my turn
to ask forgiveness now."
" No, no ; just forgive me ; that is all I ask," and her
head was on his breast.
"Let us step out into the passage-way, Edwin," said
'IT IS MY TURN TO ASK
FORGIVENESS . . ."p. 144
Atonement 145
Jane, and we did. There were times when Jane seemed
to be inspired.
When we went back into the room Mary and Brandon
were sitting in the window-way on his great cloak. They
rose and came to us holding each other's hands, and Mary
asked, looking up to him:
"Shall we tell them?"
uAs you like, my lady."
Mary was willing, and looked for Brandon to speak, so
he said: " This lady whom I hold by the hand and my-
self have promised each other before the good God to be
husband and wife, if fortune ever so favor us that it be
possible."
u No, that is not it," interrupted Mary. " There is no
* if ' in it ; it shall be, whether it is possible or not. Noth-
ing shall prevent." At this she kissed Jane and told her
how she loved her, and gave me her hand, for her love
was so great within her that it overflowed upon every one.
She, however, always had a plentitude of love for Jane,
and though she might scold her and apparently misuse
her, Jane was as dear as a sister, and was always sure of
her steadfast, tried and lasting affection.
After Mary had said there should be no " if ," Brandon
replied :
" Very well, Madame Destiny." Then turning to us:
" What ought I to do for one who is willing to stoop from
so high an estate to honor me and be my wife?"
"Love her, and her alone, with your whole heart, as
long as you live. That is all she wants, I am sure," vol-
unteered Jane, sentimentally.
"Jane, you are a Madam Solomon," said Mary, with a
tone of her old-time laugh. " Is the course you advise as
you would wish to be done by?" And she glanced mis-
chievously from Jane to me, as the laugh bubbled up from
her heart, merry and soft as if it had not come from what
was but now the home of grief and pain.
"I know nothing about how I should like to be done
by," said Jane, with a pout, "but if you have such re-
10
146 When Knighthood Was In Flower
spect for my wisdom I will offer a little more ; I think it
is time we should be going."
" Now Jane, you are growing foolish again ; I will not
go yet," and Mary made manifest her intention by sitting
down. She could not bring herself to forego the pleasure
of staying, dangerous as she knew it to be, and could not
bear the pain of parting, even for a short time, now that
she had Brandon once more. The time was soon coming
— but I am too fast again.
After a time Brandon said: "I think Jane's wisdom
remains with her, Mary. It is better that you do not stay,
much as I wish to have you."
She was ready to obey him at once.
When she arose to go she took both his hands in hers
and whispered : " ' Mary.' I like the name on your lips,"
and, then glancing hurriedly over her shoulder to see if
Jane and I were looking, lifted her face to him and ran
after us.
We were a little in advance of the princess, and, as we
walked along, Jane said under her breath: "Now look
out for trouble ; it will come quickly, and I fear for Master
Brandon more than any one. He has made a noble fight
against her and against himself, and it is no wonder she
loves him."
This made me feel a little jealous.
11 Jane, you could not love him, could you? " I asked.
" No matter what I could do, Edwin ; I do not, and that
should satisfy you." Her voice and manner said more
than her words. The hall was almost dark, and — I have
always considered that occasion one of my lost opportuni-
ties ; but they are not many.
The next evening Brandon and I, upon Lady Mary's
invitation, went up to her apartments, but did not stay
long fearing some one might find us there and cause trou-
ble. We would not have gone at all had not the whole
court been absent in London, for discovery would have
been a serious matter to one of us at least.
As I told you once before, Henry did not care how much
Brandon might love his sister, but Buckingham had whis-
pered suspicions of the state of Mary's heart, and his own
Atonement 147
observations, together with the intercepted note, had given
these suspicions a stronger coloring, so that a very small
matter might turn them into certainties.
The king had pardoned Brandon for the killing of the
two men in Billingsgate, as he was forced to do under the
circumstances, but there his kindness stopped. After a
short time he deprived him of his place at court, and all
that was left for him of royal favor was permission to re-
main with me and live at the palace until such time as he
should sail for New Spain.
CHAPTER XIII
A Git Fs Consent
THE treaty had been agreed upon, and as to the interna-
tional arrangement, at least, the marriage of Louis de Va-
lois and Mary Tudor was a settled fact. All it needed
was the consent of an eighteen-year-old girl — a small mat-
ter, of course, as marriageable women are but commodities
in statecraft, and theoretically, at least, acquiesce in every-
thing their liege lords oidain. Lady Mary's consent had
been but theoretical, but it was looked upon by every one
as amounting to an actual, vociferated, sonorous "yes;"
that is to say, by every one but the princess, who had no
more notion of saying "yes" than she had of reciting the
Sanscrit vocabulary from the pillory of Smithfield.
Wolsey, whose manner was smooth as an otter's coat,
had been sent to fetch the needed "yes" ; but he failed.
Jane told me about it.
Wolsey had gone privately to see the princess, and had
thrown out a sort of skirmish line by flattering her beauty,
but had found her not in the best humor.
" Yes, yes; my lord of Lincoln, I know how beautiful
I am ; no one knows better ; I know all about my hair,
eyes, teeth, eyebrows and skin. I tell you I am sick of
them. Don't talk to me about them; it won't help you to
get my consent to marry that vile old creature. That is
what you have come for, of course. I have been expecting
you ; why did not my brother come ?"
" I think he was afraid ; and to tell you the truth I was
afraid myself," answered Wolsey with a smile. This
A Girl's Consent 149
made Alary smile, too, in spite of herself, and went a long
way toward putting her in a good humor. Wolsey contin-
ued: " His majesty could not have given me a more dis-
agreeable task. You doubtless think I am in favor of this
marriage, but I am not."
This was as great a lie as ever fell whole out of a bishop's
mouth. "I have been obliged to fall in with the king's
views on the matter, for he has had his mind set on it from
the first mention by de Longueville."
" Was it that bead-eyed little mummy who suggested
it?"
" Yes, and if you marry the king of France you can re-
pay him with usury."
" 'Tis an inducement, by my troth."
44 1 do not mind saying to you in confidence that I think
it an outrage to force a girl like you to marry a man like
Louis of France, but how are we to avoid it?"
By the "we" Wolsey put himself in alliance with
Mary, and the move was certainly adroit.
" How are we to avoid it? Have no fear of that, my
lord; I will show you."
"Oh! but my dear princess; permit me; you do not
seem to know your brother ; you can not in any way avoid
this marriage. I believe he will imprison you and put you
on bread and water to force your consent. I am sure you
had better do willingly that which you will eventually be
compelled to do anyway; and besides there is another
thought that has come to me ; shall I speak plainly before
Lady Bolingbroke ?"
44 1 have no secrets from her."
44 Very well ; it is this. Louis is old and very feeble ;
he can not live long, and it may be that you can, by a
ready consent now, exact a promise from your brother to
allow you your own choice in the event of a second mar-
riage. You might in that way purchase what you could
not bring about in any other way."
"How do you know that I want to purchase aught in
any way, Master Wolsey ? I most certainly do not intend
to do so by marrying France."
_"I do not know that you wish to purchase anything,
150 When Knighthood "Was In Flowct
but a woman's heart is not always under her full control,
and it sometimes goes out to one very far beneath her in
station, but the equal of any man on earth in grandeur of
soul and nobleness of nature. It might be that there is
such a man whom any woman would be amply justified
in purchasing at any sacrifice — doubly so if it were buy-
ing happiness for two."
His meaning was too plain even to pretend to misunder-
stand, and Mary's eyes flashed at him, as her face broke
into a dimpling smile in spite of her.
Wolsey thought he had won, and to clinch the victory
said, in his forceful manner: " Louis XII will not live a
year ; let me carry to the king your consent, and I guaran-
tee you his promise as to a second marriage."
In an instant Mary's eyes shot fire, and her face was
like the blackest storm cloud.
4 'Carry this to the king: that I will see him and the
whole kingdom sunk in hell before I will marry Louis of
France. That is my answer once and for all. Good
even, Master Wolsey." And she swept out of the room
with head up and dilating nostrils ; the very picture of de-
fiance.
St. George ! She must have looked superb. She was
one of the few persons whom anger and disdain and the
other passions which we call ungentle seemed to illumine—
they were so strong in her, and yet not violent. It seemed
that every deep emotion but added to her beauty and
brought it out, as the light within a church brings out the
exquisite figuring on the windows.
After Wolsey had gone, Jane said to Mary: u Don't
you think it would have been better had you sent a softer
answer to your brother? I believe you could reach his
heart even now if you were to make the effort. You have
not tried in this matter as you did in the others."
" Perhaps you are right, Jane. I will go to Henry."
Mary waited until she knew the king was alone, and then
went to him.
On entering the room, she said: "Brother, I sent a
hasty message to you by the Bishop of Lincoln this morn-
ing, and have come to ask your forgiveness."
A Gitl's Consent 151
"Ah! little sister ; I thought you would change your
mind. Now you are a good girl."
u Oh! do not misunderstand me; I asked your forgive-
ness for the message ; as to the marriage, I came to tell
you it would kill me, and that I could not bear it. Oh !
brother, you are not a woman — you can not know." Hen-
ry flew into a passion, and with oaths and curses ordered
her to leave him unless she was ready to give her consent.
She had but two courses to take, so she left with her heart
full of hatred for the most brutal wretch who ever sat upon
a throne — and that is making an extreme case. As she was
going, she turned upon him like a fury, and exclaimed :
"Never, never! Do you hear? Never! "
Preparations went on for the marriage just as if Mary
had given her solemn consent. The important work of
providing the trousseau began at once, and the more impor-
tant matter of securing the loan from the London merchants
tvas pushed along rapidly. The good citizens might cling
affectionately to their angels, double angels, crowns and
pounds sterling, but the fear in which they held the king,
and a little patting of the royal hand upon the plebeian
head, worked the charm, and out came the yellow gold, never
to be seen again, God wot. Under the stimulus of the royal
smile they were ready to shout themselves hoarse, and to
eat and drink themselves red in the face in celebration of
the wedding day. In short, they were ready to be tickled
nearly to death for the honor of paying to a wretched old
lecher a wagon-load of gold to accept, as a gracious gift,
the most beautiful heart-broken girl in the world. That
is, she would have been heart-broken had she not been
inspired with courage. As it was, she wasted none of her
energy in lamentations, but saved it all to fight with.
Heavens! how she did fight! If a valiant defense ever
deserved victory, it was in her case. When the queen went
to her with silks and taffetas and fine cloths to consult
about the trousseau, although the theme was one which
would interest almost any woman, she would have none of
it, and when Catherine insisted upon her trying on a cer-
tain gown, she called her a blackamoor, tore the garment to
pieces, and ordered her to leave the room.
15* When Knighthood Was In Flower
Henry sent Wolsey to tell her that the I3th day of Aug-
ust had been fixed upon as the day of the marriage, de
Longueville to act as the French king's proxy, and Wol-
sey was glad to come off with his life.
Matters were getting into a pretty tangle at the palace.
Mary would not speak to the king, and poor Catherine was
afraid to come within arm's length of her ; Wolsey was glad
to keep out of her way, and she flew at Buckingham with
talons and beak upon first sight. As to the battle with
Buckingham, it was short but decisive, and this was the way
it came about: There had been a passage between the
duke and Brandon, in which the latter had tried to coax the
former into a duel, the only way, of course, to settle the
weighty matters between them. Buckingham, however,
had had a taste of Brandon's nimble sword play, and, bear-
ing in mind Judson's fate, did not care for any more.
They had met by accident, and Brandon, full of smiles
and as polite as a Frenchman, greeted him.
"Doubtless my lord, having crossed swords twice with
me, will do me the great honor to grant that privilege the
third time, and will kindly tell me where my friend can
wait upon a friend of his grace."
" There is no need for us to meet over that little affair.
You had the best of it, and if I am satisfied you should
be. I was really in the wrong, but I did not know the
princess had invited you to her ball."
44 Your lordship is pleased to evade," returned Brandon.
" It is not the ball-room matter that I have to complain of ;
as you have rightly said, if you are satisfied, I certainly
should be ; but it is that your lordship, in the name of the
king, instructed the keeper of Newgate prison to confine
me in an underground cell, and prohibited communica-
tion with any of my friends. You so arranged it that my
trial should be secret, both as to the day thereof and the
event, in order that it should not be known to those who
might be interested in my release. You promised the
Lady Mary that you would procure my liberty, and thereby
prevented her going to the king for that purpose, and after-
wards told her it had all been done, as promised, and that
I had escaped to New Spain. It is because of this, nay
A GfrFs Consent 153
Lord Buckingham, that I now denounce you as a liar, a
coward and a perjured knight, and demand of you such
satisfaction as one man can give to another for mortal in-
jury. If you refuse, I will kill you as I would a cut-throat
the next time I meet you."
u I care nothing for your rant, fellow, but out of consid-
eration for the feelings which your fancied injuries have put
into your heart, I tell you that I did what I could to liber-
ate you, and received from the keeper a promise that you
should be allowed to escape. After that a certain letter
addressed to you was discovered and fell into the hands of
the king — a matter in which I had no part. As to your
confinement and non-communication with your friends,
that was at his majesty's command after he had seen the
letter, as he will most certainly confirm to you. I say this
for my own sake, not that I care what you may say or
think."
This offer of confirmation by the king made it all sound
like the truth, so much will even a little truth leaven a great
lie, and part of Brandon's sails came down against the
mast* The whole statement surprised him, and, most of
all, the intercepted letter. What letter could it have been?
It was puzzling, and yet he dared not ask.
As the duke was about to walk away, Brandon stopped
him: *' One moment, your grace ; I am willing to admit
what you have said, for I am not now prepared to contradict
it ; but there is yet another matter we have to settle. You
attacked me on horseback, and tried to murder me in order
to abduct two ladies that night over in Billingsgate. That
you can not deny. I watched you follow the ladies from
BridewTell to Grouche's, and saw your face when your mask
fell off during the melee as plainly as I see it now. If other
proof is wanting, there is that sprained knee upon which
your horse fell, causing you to limp even yet. I am sure
now that my lord will meet me like a man ; or would he
prefer that I should go to the king and tell him and the
world the whole shameful story ? I have concealed it here-
tofore, thinking it my personal right and privilege to settle
with you."
Buckingham turned a shade paler as he replied: " I do
154 When Knighthood Was In Flowe*
not meet such as you on the field of honor, and have no
fear of your slander injuring me."
He felt secure in the thought that the girls did not know
who had attacked them, and could not corroborate Bran-
don in his accusation, or Mary, surely, never would have
appealed to him for help.
I was with Brandon — at a little distance, that is — when
this occurred, and after Buckingham had left, we went to
find the girls in the forest. We knew they would be look-
ing for us, although they would pretend surprise when
they saw us. We soon met them, and the very leaves of
the trees gave a soft, contented rustle in response to Mary's
low, mellow laugh of joy.
After perhaps half an hour, we encountered Bucking-
ham with his lawyer-knight, Johnson. They had evident-
ly walked out to this quiet path to consult about the situ-
ation. As they approached, Mary spoke to the duke with
a vicious sparkle in her eyes.
" My Lord Buckingham, this shall cost you your head;
remember my words when you are on the scaffold, just
when your neck fits into the hollow of the block."
He stopped, with an evident desire to explain, but Mary
pointed down the path and said, " Go, or I will have
Master Brandon spit you on his sword. Two to one
would be easy odds compared with the four to one you put
against him in Billingsgate. Go!" And the battle was
over, the foe never having struck a blow. It hurt me that
Mary should speak of the odds being two to one against
Brandon when I was at hand. It is true I was not very
large, but I could have taken care of a lawyer.
Now it was that the lawyer knight earned his bread
by his wits, for it was he, I know, who instigated the
next move — a master stroke in its way, and one which
proved a checkmate to us. It was this: the duke went at
once to the king, and, in a tone of injured innocence, told
him of the charge made by Brandon with Mary's evident
approval, and demanded redress for the slander. Thus it
seemed that the strength of our position was about to be
turned against us. Brandon was at once summoned and
A Girl's Consent 155
promptly appeared before the king, only too anxious to
confront the duke. As to the confinement of Brandon and
his secret trial, the king did not care to hear; that was a
matter of no consequence to him ; the important question
was, did Buckingham attack the princess?
Brandon told the whole straight story exactly as it was,
which Buckingham as promptly denied, and offered to
prove by his almoner that he was at his devotions on the
night and at the hour of the attack. So here was a con-
flict of evidence which called for new witnesses, and Henry
asked Brandon if the girls had seen and recognized the
duke. To this question, of course, he was compelled to
answer no, and the whole accusation, after all, rested upon
Brandon's word, against which, on the other hand, was the
evidence of the Duke of Buckingham and his convenient
almoner.
All this disclosed to the full poor Mary's anxiety to
help Brandon, and the duke having adroitly let out the fact
that he had just met the princess with Brandon at a certain
secluded spot in the forest, Henry's suspicion of her par-
tiality received new force, and he began to look upon the
unfortunate Brandon as a partial cause, at least, of Mary's
aversion to the French marriage.
Henry grew angry and ordered Brandon to leave the
court, with the sullen remark that it was only his services
to the princess Mary that saved him from a day with
papers on the pillory.
This was not by any means what Brandon had expected.
There seemed to be a fatality for him about everything
connected with that unfortunate trip to Grouche's. He
had done his duty, and this was his recompense. Virtue
is sometimes a pitiful reward for itself, notwithstanding
much wisdom to the contrary.
Henry was by no means sure that his suspicions concern-
ing Mary's heart were correct, and in all he had heard he
had not one substantial fact upon which to base conviction.
He had not seen her with Brandon since their avowal, or
he would have had a fact in every look, the truth in every
motion, a demonstration in every glance. She seemed
156 When Knighthood Was In Flower
powerless even to attempt concealment. In Brandon's
handsome manliness and evident superiority, the king
thought he saw a very clear possibility for Mary to
love, and where there is such a possibility for a girl, she
usually fails to fulfill expectations. I suppose there are
more wrong guesses as to the sort of man a given woman
will fall in love with than on any other subject of equal
importance in the whole range of human surmising. It
did not, however, strike the king that way, and he, in com-
mon with most other spns of Adam, supposing that he
knew all about it, marked Brandon as a very possible and
troublesome personage. For once in the history of the
world a man had hit upon the truth in this obscure mat-
ter, although he had no idea how correct he was.
Now, all this brought Brandon into the deep shadow of
the royal frown, and, like many another man, he sunk his
fortune in the fathomless depths of a woman's heart, and
thought himself rich in doing it.
CHAPTER XIV
In the Siren Country
WITH the king, admiration stood for affection, a mistake
frequently made by people not given to self-analysis, and
in a day or two a reaction set in toward Brandon which
inspired a desire to make some amends for his harsh treat-
ment. This he could not do to any great extent, on Buck-
ingham's account; at least, not until the London loan was
in his coffers, but the fact that Brandon was going to New
Spain so soon and would be out of the way, both of Mary's
eyes and Mary's marriage, stimulated that rare flower in
Henry's heart, a good resolve, and Brandon was offered
his old quarters with me until such time as he should sail
for New Spain.
He had never abandoned this plan, and now that mat-
ters had taken this turn with Mary and the king, his reso-
lution was stronger than ever, in that the scheme held two
recommendations and a possibility.
The recommendations were, first, it would take him
away from Mary, with whom — when out of the inspiring
influence of her buoyant hopefulness — he knew marriage
to be utterly impossible; and second, admitting and
facing that impossibility, he might find at least partial re-
lief from his heartache in the stirring events and adven-
tures of that far away land cf monsters, dragons, savages
and gold. The possibility lay in the gold, and a very
faintly burning flame of hope held out the still more faintly
glimmering chance that fortune, finding him there almost
alone, might, for lack of another lover, smile upon him by
way of squaring accounts. She might lead him to a
(157)
158 When Knighthood "Was In Flowet
cavern of gold, and gold would do anything; even, per-
haps, purchase so priceless a treasure as a certain princess
of the blood royal. He did not, however, dwell much on
this possibility, but kept the delightful hope well neutral-
ized with a constantly present sense of its improbability, in
order to save the pain of a long fall when disappointment
should come.
Brandon at once accepted the king's offer of lodging in
the palace, for now that he felt sure of himself in the mat-
ter of New Spain, and his separation from Mary, he longed
to see as much as possible of her before the light went out
forever, even though it were playing with death itself to
do so.
Poor fellow, his suffering was so acute during this period
that it affected me like a contagion.
It did not make a mope of him, but came in spasms that
almost drove him wild. He would at times pace the room
and cry out: "Jesu! Caskoden, what shall I do? She
will be the wife of the French king, and I shall sit in the
wilderness and try every moment to imagine what she
is doing and thinking. I shall find the bearing of Paris,
and look in her direction until my brain melts in my effort
to see her, and then I shall wander in the woods, a suffer-
ing imbecile, feeding on roots and nuts. Would to God
one of us might die. If it were not selfish, I should wish
I might be the one."
I said nothing in answer to these outbursts, as I had no
consolation to offer.
We had two or three of our little meetings of four,
dangerous as they were, at which Mary, feeling that each
time she saw Brandon might be the last, would sit and
look at him with glowing eyes that in turn softened and
burned as he spoke. She did not talk much, but devoted
all her time and energies to looking with her whole soul.
Never before or since was there a girl so much in
love. A young girl thoroughly in love is the most beauti-
ful object on earth — beautiful even in ugliness. Imagine,
then, what it made of Mary!
Growing partly, perhaps, out of his unattainability — for
he was as far out of her reach as she out of his — she
In the Siren Country 159
had long since begun to worship him. She had learned to
know him so well, and his valiant defense of her in Billings-
gate, together with his noble self-sacrifice in refusing to com-
promise her in order to save himself, had presented him to her
in so noble a light that she had come to love up to him
as her superior. Her surrender had been complete, and
she found in it a joy far exceeding that of any victory or
triumph she could imagine.
I could not, for the life of me, tell what would be the
outcome of it all. Mary was one woman in ten thousand,
so full was she of feminine force and will — a force which
we men pretend to despise, but to which in the end we
always succumb.
Like most women, the princess was not much given to
analysis ; and, I think, secretly felt that this matter of so
great moment to her would, as everything else always had,
eventually turn itself to her desire. She could not see the
way, but, to her mind, there could be no doubt about it;
fate was her friend ; always had been, and surely always
would be.
With Brandon it was different ; experience as to how the
ardently hoped for usually turns out to be the sadly regret-
ted, together with a thorough face-to-face analysis of the
situation, showed him the truth, all too clearly, and he
longed for the day when he should go, as a sufferer longs
for the surgeon's knife that is to relieve him of an aching
limb. The hopelessness of the outlook had for the time
destroyed nearly all of his combativeness, and had softened
his nature almost to apathetic weakness. It would do no
good to struggle in a boundless, fathomless sea; so he
was ready to sink and was going to New Spain to hope no
more.
Mary did not see what was to prevent the separation,
but this did not trouble her as much as one would suppose,
and she was content to let events take their own way,
hoping and believing that in the end it would be hers.
Events, however, continued in this wrong course so long
and persistently, that at last the truth dawned upon her
and she began to doubt ; and as time flew on and matters
evinced a disposition to grow worse instead of better, she
160 When Knighthood "Was In Flowet
gradually, like the sun-dial in the moonlight, awakened to
the fact that there was something wrong ; a-cog loose some
where in the complicated machinery of fate — the fate which
had always been her tried, trusted and obedient servant.
The trouble began in earnest with the discovery of our
meetings in Lady Mary's parlor. There was nothing at all
unusual in the fact that small companies of young folk fre-
quently spent their evenings with her, but we knew well
enough that the unusual element in our parties was their
exceeding smallness. A company of eight or ten young
persons was well enough, although it, of course, created
jealousy on the part of those who were left out ; but four —
two of each sex — made a difference in kind, however
much we might insist it was only in degree ; and this we
soon learned was the king's opinion.
You may be sure there was many a jealous person about
the court ready to carry tales, and that it was impossible
long to keep our meetings secret among such a host as
then lived in Greenwich palace.
One day the queen summoned Jane and put her to the
question. Now Jane thought the truth was made only to
be told, a fallacy into which many good people have fallen,
to their utter destruction ; since the truth, like every other
good thing, may be abused.
Well ! Jane told it all in a moment, and Catherine was
so horrified that she was like to faint. She went with her
hair-lifting horror to the king, and poured into his ears a
tale of imprudence and debauchery well calculated to start
his righteous, virtue-prompted indignation into a threaten-
ing flame.
Mary, Jane, Brandon and myself were at once sum-
moned to the presence of both their majesties and soundly
reprimanded. Three of us were ordered to leave the court
before we could speak a word in self-defense, and Jane
had enough of her favorite truth for once. Mary, how-
ever, came to our rescue with her coaxing eloquence and
potent, feminine logic, and soon convinced Henry that the
queen, who really counted for little with him, had made a
mountain out of a very small mole-hill. Thus the royal
wrath was appeased to such an extent that the order for ex-
In the Siren Country 161
pulsion was modified to a command that there be no more
quartette gatherings in Lady Mary's parlor. This leni-
ency was more easy for the princess to bring about, by
reason of the fact that she had not spoken to her brother
since the day she went to see him after Wolsey's visit, and
had been so roughly driven off. At first, upon her refusal
to speak to him — after the Wolsey visit — Henry was angry
on account of what he called her insolence ; but as she did
not seem to care for that, and as his anger did nothing to-
ward unsealing her lips, he pretended indifference. Still
the same stubborn silence was maintained. This soon be-
gan to amuse the king, and of late he had been trying to be
on friendly terms again with his sister through a series of
elephantine antics and bear-like pleasantries, which were
the most dismal failures — that is, in the way of bringing
about a reconciliation. They were more successful from a
comical point of view. So Henry was really glad for some-
thing that would loosen the tongue usually so lively, and for
an opportunity to gratify his sister from whom he was de-
manding such a sacrifice, and for whom he expected to re-
ceive no less a price than the help of Louis of France, the
most powerful king of Europe, to the imperial crown.
Thus our meetings were broken up, and Brandon knew
his dream was over, and that any effort to see the princess
would probably result in disaster for them both ; for him
certainly.
The king upon that same day told Mary of the inter-
cepted letter sent by her to Brandon at Newgate, and ac-
cused her of what he was pleased to term an improper
feeling for a low-born fellow.
Mary at once sent a full account of the communication
in a letter to Brandon, who read it with no small degree of
ill comfort as the harbinger of trouble.
" I had better leave here soon, or I may go without my
head," he remarked. u When that thought gets to work-
ing in the king's brain, he will strike, and I — shall fall."
Letters began to come to our rooms from Mary, at first
begging Brandon to come to her, and then upbraiding him
because of his coldness and cowardice, and telling him that
II
1 62 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
if he cared for her as she did for him, he would see her,
though he had to wade through fire and blood. That was
exactly where the trouble lay ; it was not fire and blood
through which he would have to pass ; they were small
matters, mere nothings that would really have added zest
and interest to the achievement. But the frowning laugh
of the tyrant, who could bind him hand and foot, and a
vivid remembrance of the Newgate dungeon, with a dang-
ling noose or a hollowed-out block in the near background,
were matters that would have taken the adventurous ten-
dency out of even the cracked brain of chivalry itself.
Brandon cared only to fight where there was a possible
victory or ransom, or a prospect of some sort, at least, of
achieving success. Bayard preferred a stone wall, and
thought to show his brains by beating them out against it,
and in a sense he could do it. * * * What a pity this
senseless, stiff-kneed, light-headed chivalry did not beat its
brains out several centuries before Bayard put such an
absurd price upon himself.
So every phase of the question which his good sense pre-
sented told Brandon, whose passion was as ardent though
not so impatient as Mary's, that it would be worse than
foolhardy to try to see her. He, however, had determined
to see her once more before he left, but as it could, in all
probability, be only once, he was reserving the meeting
until the last, and had written Mary that it was their best
and only chance.
This brought to Mary a stinging realization of the fact
that Brandon was about to leave her and that she would
lose him if something were not done quickly. Now for
Mary, after a life of gratified whims, to lose the very thing
she wanted most of all — that for which she would willingly
have given up every other desire her heart had ever coined
— was a thought hardly to be endured. She felt that the
world would surely collapse. It could not, would not,
should not be.
Her vigorous young nerves were too strong to be be-
numbed by an overwhelming agony, as is sometimes the
case with those who are fortunate enough to be weaker, so
she had to suffer and endure. Life itself, yes, life a
•
"SHE WENT ALONE, ONE AFTERNOON,
TO SEE BRANDON." p. 163
In the Siren Country 163
thousand times, was slipping away from her. She must be
doing something or she would perish. Poor Mary!
How a grand soul like hers, full of faults and weakness,
can suffer. What an infinite disproportion between her
susceptibility to pain and her power to combat it. She
had the maximum capacity for one and the minimum
strength for the other. No wonder it drove her almost
mad — that excruciating pang of love.
She could not endure inaction, so she did the worst thing
possible. She went alone, one afternoon, just before dusk,
to see Brandon at our rooms. I was not there when she
first went in, but, having seen her on the way, suspected
something and followed, arriving two or three minutes
after her. I knew it was best that I should be present,
and was sure Brandon would wish it. When I entered
they were holding each other's hands, in silence. They
had not yet found their tongues, so full and crowded were
their hearts. It was pathetic to see them, especially the
girl, who had not Brandon's hopelessness to deaden the
pain by partial resignation.
Upon my entrance, she dropped his hands and turned
quickly toward me with a frightened look, but was reas-
sured upon seeing who it was. Brandon mechanically
walked away from her and seated himself on a stool. Mary,
as mechanically, moved to his side and placed her hand on
his shoulder. Turning her face toward me, she said : " Sir
Edwin, I know you will forgive me when I tell you that
we have a great deal to say and wish to be alone."
I was about to go when Brandon stopped me.
"No, no; Caskoden, please stay; it would not do. It
would be bad enough, God knows, if the princess should
be found here with both of us ; but, with me alone, I should
be dead before morning. There is danger enough as it is,
for they will watch us."
Mary knew he was right, but she could not resist a
vicious little glance toward me, who was in no way to
blame.
Presently we all moved into the window-way, where
Brandon and Mary sat upon the great cloak and I on a camp-
164 When Knighthood "Was In Flowet
atool in front of them, completely filling up the little pas-
sage.
" I can bear this no longer," exclaimed Mary. " I will
go to my brother to-night and tell him all ; I will tell him
how I suffer, and that I shall die if you are allowed to go
away and leave me forever. He loves me, and I can do
anything with him when I try. I know I can obtain his
consent to our — our — marriage. He can not know how I
suffer, else he would not treat me so. I will let him see —
I will convince him. I have in my mind everything I want
to say and do. I will sit on his knee and stroke his hair and
kiss him." And she laughed softly as her spirit revived in
the breath of a growing hope. " Then I will tell him how
handsome he is, and how I hear the ladies sighing for him,
and he will come around all right by the third visit. Oh,
I know how to do it ; I have done it so often. Never fear !
I wish I had gone at it long ago."
Her enthusiastic fever of hope was really contagious,
but Brandon, whose life was at stake, had his wits quick-
ened by the danger.
4 ' Mary, would you like to see me a corpse before to-
morrow noon?" he asked.
44 Why! of course not; why do you ask such a dreadful
question?"
"Because, if you wish to make sure of it, do what you
have just said — go to the king and tell him all. I doubt
if he could wait till morning, but believe he would awaken
me at midnight to put me to sleep forever — at the end of a
rope or on a block pillow."
44 Oh! no! you are all wrong; I know what I can do
with Henry."
44 If that is the case, I say good-bye now, for I shall
be out of England, if possible, by midnight. You must
promise me that you will not only not go to the king at
all about this matter, but that you will guard your tongue,
jealous of iti slightest word, and remember with every
breath that on your prudence hangs my life, which, I know,
is dear to you. Do you promise ? If you do not I must
% J so you will lose me one way or the other, if you tell
the king; either by my flight or by my death."
In the Siren Country 165
*:I promise," said Mary, with drooping head; the em-
bodiment of despair; all life and hope having left her
again.
After a few minutes her face brightened, ^nd she asked
Brandon what ship he would sail in for New Spain, and
whence.
44 We sail in the Royal Hind, from Bristol, in about a
fortnight," he replied.
** How many go out in her ; and are there any women? "
"No! no! " he returned; "no woman could make the
trip; and, besides, on ships of that sort, half pirate, half
merchant, they do not take women. The sailors are super-
stitious about it and will not sail with them. They say they
bring bad luck — adverse winds, calms, storms, blackness,
monsters from the deep and victorious foes."
44 The ignorant creatures! " cried Mary.
Brandon continued: ''There will be a hundred men, if
the captain can induce so many to enlist."
"How does one procure passage? " inquired Mary.
44 By enlisting with the captain, a man named Bradhurst,
at Bristol, where the ship is now lying. There is where I
enlisted by letter. But why do you ask?"
44 Oh ! I only wanted to know."
We talked awhile on various topics, but Mary always
brought the conversation back to the same subject, the
Royal Hind and New Spain. After asking many ques-
tions she sat in silence for a time, and then abruptly broke
into one of my sentences — she was always interrupting me
as if I were a parrot.
44 1 have been thinking and have made up my mind what
I will do, and you shall not dissuade me. I will go to New
Spain with you. That will be glorious — far better than
the humdrum life of sitting at home — and will solve the
whole question."
44 But that would be impossible, Mary," said Brandon,
into whose face this new evidence of her regard had brought
a brightening look; 4t utterly impossible. To begin with,
no woman could stand the voyage ; not even you, strong
and vigorous as you are."
44 Oh, yes I can, and I will not allow you to stop me fox
166 "When Knighthood Was In Flower
that reason. I could bear any hardship better than the
torture of the last few weeks. In truth I can not bear this
at all ; it is killing me, so what would it be when you are
gone and I am the wife of Louis ? Think of that, Charles
Brandon ; think of that, when I am the wife of Louis. Even
if the voyage kills me, I might as well die one way as an-
other ; and then I should be with you, where it were sweet
to die." And I had to sit there and listen to all this fool-
ish talk!
Brandon insisted : " But no women are going; as I told
you, they would not take one ; besides, how could you es-
cape ? I will answer the first question you ever asked me.
You are of * sufficient consideration about the court ' for
all your movements to attract notice. It is impossible ; we
must not think of it ; it can not be done. Why build up
hopes only to be cast down?"
" Oh! but it can be done; never doubt it. I will go,
not as a woman, but as a man. I have planned all the
details while sitting here. To-morrow I will send to Bris-
tol a sum of money asking a separate room in the ship for
a young nobleman who wishes to go to New Spain incog-
nito, and will go aboard just before they sail. I will buy
a man's complete outfit, and will practice being a man be-
fore you and Sir Edwin." Here she blushed so that I
could see the scarlet even in the gathering gloom. She
continued: "As to my escape, I can go to Windsor, and
then perhaps on to Berkeley Castle, over by Reading, where
there will be no one to watch me. You can leave at once,
and there will be no cause for them to spy upon me when
you are gone, so it can be done easily enough. That is it ;
I will go to my sister, who is now at Berkeley Castle, the
other side of Reading, you know, and that will make a
shorter ride to Bristol when we start."
The thought, of course, could not but please Brandon,
to whom, in the warmth of Mary's ardor, it had almost be-
gun to offer hope; and he said musingly: " I wonder if
it could be done ? If it could — if we could reach New
Spain, we might build ourselves a home in the beautiful
green mountains and hide ourselves safely away from all
the world, in the lap of some cosy valley, rich with nature's
la the Siten Country 167
bounteous gift of fruit and flowers, shaded from the hot
sun and sheltered from the blasts, and live in a little para-
dise all our own. What a glorious dream; but it is only
a dream, and we had better awake from it."
Brandon must have been insane !
" No! no! It is not a dream," interrupted downright,
determined Mary; " it is not a dream; it shall be a reality.
How glorious it will be ; I can see our little house now
nestling among the hills, shaded by great spreading trees
with flowers and vines and golden fruit all about it, rich
plumaged birds and gorgeous butterflies. Oh! I can
hardly wait. Who would live in a musty palace when
they have within reach such a home, and that too with
you."
Here it was again. I thought that interview would be
the death of me.
Brandon held his face in his hands, and then looking up
said : " It is only a question of your happiness, and hard as
the voyage and your life over there would be, yet I believe
it would be better than life with Louis of France ; nothing
could be so terrible as that to both of us. If you wish to
go, I will try to take you, though I die in the attempt.
There will be ample time to reconsider, so that you can
turn back if you wish."
Her reply was inarticulate, though satisfactory ; and she
took his hand in hers as the tears ran gently down her
cheeks ; this time tears of joy — the first she had shed for
many a day.
In the Siren country again without wax ! Overboard
and lost!
Yes, Brandon's resolution not to see Mary was well-
taken, if it could only have been as well kept. Observe,
as we progress, into what the breaking of it led him.
He had known that if he should but see her once more,
his already toppling will would lose its equipoise, and
he would be led to attempt the impossible and invite de-
struction. At first this scheme appeared to me in its true
light, but Mary's subtle feminine logic made it seem such
plain and easy sailing that I soon began to draw enthusi-
asm from her exhaustless store, and our combined attack
168 When Knighthood Was In Flower
upon Brandon eventually routed every vestige of caution
and common sense that even he had left.
Siren logic has always been irresistible and will continue
so, no doubt, despite experience.
I can not define what it was about Mary that made her
little speeches, half argumentative, all-pleading, so won-
derfully persuasive. Her facts were mere fancies, and her
logic was not even good sophistry. As to real argument
and reasoning there was nothing of either in them. It
must have been her native strength of character and in-
tensely vigorous personality ; some unknown force of na-
ture, operating through her occultly, that turned the chan-
nels of other persons' thoughts and filled them with her
own will. There was magic in her power, I am certain,
but unconscious magic to Mary, I am equally sure. She
never would have used it knowingly.
There was still another obstacle to which Mary admin-
istered her favorite remedy, the Gordian knot treatment.
Brandon said: '* It can not be; you are not my wife, and
we dare not trust a priest here to unite us."
"No;" replied Mary with hanging head, u but we can
— can find one over there."
"I do not know how that will be; we shall probably
not find one; at least, I fear; I do not know."
After a little hesitation she answered : "I will go with
you any way — and — and risk it. I hope we may find a
priest," and she flushed scarlet from her throat to her hair.
Brandon kissed her and said: " You shall go, my brave
girl. You make me blush for my faint-heartedness and
prudence. I will make you my wife in some way as sure
as there is a God."
Soon after this Brandon forced himself to insist on her
departure, and I went with her full of hope and completely
blinded to the dangers of our cherished scheme. I think
Brandon never really lost sight of the danger, and almost
infinite proportion of chance against this wild, reckless
venture, but was daring enough to attempt it even in the
face of such clearly seen and deadly consequences.
What seems to be bravery, as in Mary's case, for exam-
ple, is often but a lack of perception of the real danger.
In tne Siren Country 169
True bravery is that which dares a danger fully seeing it.
A coward may face an unseen danger, and his act may
shine with the lustre of genuine heroism. Mary was brave,
but it was the feminine bravery that did not see. Show
her a danger and she was womanly enough — that is if you
could make her see it. Her willfulness sometimes ex-
tended to her mental vision and she would not see. In
common with many others she needed mental spectacles
at times.
CHAPTER XV
To Make a Man of Her
So IT was all arranged, and I converted part of Mary's
jewels into money. She said she was sorry now she had
not taken de Longueville's diamonds, as they would have
added to her treasure ; I, however, procured quite a large
sum, to which I secretly added a goodly portion out of my
own store. At Mary's request I sent part to Bradhurst at
Bristol, and retained the rest for Brandon to take with
him.
A favorable answer soon came from Bristol, giving the
young nobleman a separate room in consideration of the
large purse he had sent.
The next step was to procure the gentleman's wardrobe
for Mary. This was a little troublesome at first, for, of
course, she could not be measured in the regular way. We
managed to overcome this difficulty by having Jane take
the measurements under instructions received from the
tailor, which measurements, together with the cloth, I took
to the fractional little man who did my work.
He looked at the measurements with twinkling eyes, and
remarked : "Sir Edwin, that be the curiousest shaped man
ever I see the measures of. Sure it would make a mighty
handsome woman, or I know nothing of human dimen-
sions."
u Never you mind about dimensions ; make the garments
as they are ordered and keep your mouth shut, if you know
what is to your interest. Do you hear?"
He delivered himself of a labored wink. UI do hear
and understand too, and my tongue is like the tongue of an
obelisk."
(170)
To Make a Man of Her 171
In due time I brought the suits to Mary, and they were
soon adjusted to her liking.
The days passed rapidly, till it was a matter of less than
a fortnight until the Royal Hind would sail, and it really
looked as if the adventure might turn out to our desire.
Jane was in tribulation, and thought she ought to be
taken along. This, you may be sure, was touching me
very closely, and I began to wish the whole infernal mess
at the bottom of the sea. If Jane went, his august majesty,
King Henry VIII, would be without a Master of Dance
just as sure as the stars twinkled in the firmament. It was,
however, soon decided that Brandon would have his hands
more than full to get off with one woman, and that two
would surely spoil the plan. So Jane was to be left
behind, full of tribulation and indignation, firmly con-
vinced that she was being treated very badly.
Although at first Jane was violently opposed to the
scheme, she soon caught the contagious ardor of Mary's en-
thusiasm, and knowing that her dear lady's every chance of
happiness was staked upon the throw, grew more reconciled.
To a person of Jane's age, this venture for love offers itself
as the last and only cast — the cast for all, — and in this par-
ticular case there was enough of romance to catch the fancy
of any girl. Nothing was lacking to make it truly romantic.
The exalted station of at least one of the lovers ; the rough
road of their true love ; the elopement, and, above all, the
elopement to a new world, with a cosy hut nestling in
fragrant shades and glad with the notes of love from the
throats of countless song-birds — what more could a ro-
mantic girl desire ? So, to my surprise, Jane became more
than reconciled, and her fever of anticipation and excite-
ment grew apace with Mary's as the time drew on.
Mary's vanity was delighted with her elopement trous-
seau, for of course it must be of the finest. Not that the
quality was any better than her own, but the doublet and
hose showed so differently on her. She paraded for an
hour or so before Jane, and as she became accustomed
to the new garb, and as the steel reflected a most beautiful
image, she determined to show herself to Brandon and me.
She said she wanted to become accustomed to being seen
i7* When Knighthood Was In Flower
in her doublet and hose, and would begin with us. She
thought if she could not bear our gaze she should surely
make a dismal failure on shipboard among so many
strange men. There was some good reasoning in this,
and it, together with her vanity, overruled her modesty, and
prompted her to come to see us in her character of young
nobleman. Jane made one of her mighty protests, so in-
finitely disproportionate in size to her little ladyship, but
the self-willed princess would not listen to her, and was for
coming alone if Jane would not come with her. Once
having determined, as usual with her, she wasted no time
about it, but throwing a long cloak over her shoulders
started for our rooms with angry, weeping, protesting Jane
at her heels.
When I heard the knock I was sure it was the girls, for
though Mary had promised Brandon she would not, un-
der any circumstances, attempt another visit. I knew so
well her utter inability to combat her desire, and her reck-
less disregard of danger where there was a motive suffi-
cient to furnish the nerve tension, that I was sure she
would come, or try to come, again.
I have spoken before about the quality of bravery.
What is it, after all, and how can we analyze it? Wom-
en, we say, are cowardly, but I have seen a woman take
a risk that the bravest man's nerve would turn on edge
against. How is it? Can it be possible that they are
braver than we ? That our bravery is of the vaunting kind
that telleth of itself? My answer, made up from a long
life of observation, is: " Yes! Given the motive, and a
woman is the bravest creature on earth." Yet how fool-
ishly timid they are at times !
I admitted the girls, and when the door was shut Mary
unclasped the brooch at her throat and the great cloak fell
at her heels. Out she stepped, with a little laugh of de-
light, clothed in doublet, hose, and confusion — the pretti-
est picture mortal eyes ever rested on. Her hat, some-
thing on the broad, flat style with a single white plume en-
circling the crown, was of purple velvet trimmed in gold
braid and touched here and there with precious stones.
Her doublet was of the same purple velvet as her hat,
To Make a Man of Her 173
trimmed in lace and gold braid. Her short trunks were
of heavy black silk slashed by yellow satin, with hose of
lavender silk ; and her little shoes were of russet French
leather. Quite a rainbow you will say — but such a rain-
bow!
Brandon and I were struck dumb with admiration and
could not keep from showing it. This disconcerted the
girl, and increased her embarrassment until we could not
tell which was the prettiest — the garments, the girl or the
confusion ; but this I know, the whole picture was as sweet
and beautiful as the eyes of man could behold.
Fine feathers will not make fine birds, and Mary's mas-
culine attire could no more make her look like a man than
harness can disguise the graces of a gazelle. Nothing
could conceal her intense, exquisite womanhood. With
our looks of astonishment and admiration Mary's blushes
deepened.
u What is the matter? Is anything wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing is wrong/' answered Brandon, smiling in
spite of himself; "nothing on earth is wrong with you, you
may be sure. You are perfect — that is, for a woman ; and
one who thinks there is anything wrong about a perfect
woman is hard to please. But if you flatter yourself that
you, in any way, resemble a man, or that your dress in the
faintest degree conceals your sex, you are mistaken. It
makes it only more apparent."
" How can that be ? " asked Mary, in comical tribulation ;
" is not this a man's doublet and hose, and this hat — is
it not a man's hat? They are all for a man; then why
dc I not look like one, I ask? Tell me what is wrong.
Oh ! I thought I looked just like a man ; I thought the
disguise was perfect."
"Well," returned Brandon, "if you will permit me to
say so, you are entirely too symmetrical and shapely ever to
pass for a man."
The flaming color was in her cheeks, as Brandon went
on; "Your feet are too small, even for a boy's feet. I
don't think you could be made to look like a man if you
worked from now till doomsday."
Brandon spoke in a troubled tone, for he was beginning
174 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
to see in Mary's perfect and irrepressible womanhood an
insurmountable difficulty right across his path.
" As to your feet, you might find larger shoes, or, better
still, jack-boots; and, as to your hose, you might wear
longer trunks, but what to do about the doublet I am sure I
do not know."
Mary looked up helpless and forlorn, and the hot face
went into her bended elbow as a realization of the situation
seemed to dawn upon her.
" Oh! I wish I had not come. But I wanted to grow
accustomed so that I could wear them before others. I be-
lieve I could bear it more easily with any one else. I did
not think of it in that way," and she snatched her cloak
from where it had fallen on the floor and threw it around
her.
"What way, Mary?" asked Brandon gently, and re-
ceiving no answer. " But you will have to bear my look-
ing at you all the time if you go with me."
"I don't believe I can do it."
"No, no," answered he, bravely attempting cheerful-
ness; "we may as well give it up. I have had no hope
from the first. I knew it could not be done, and it should
not. I was both insane and criminal to think of permitting
you to try it."
Brandon's forced cheerfulness died out with his words,
and he sank into a chair with his elbows on his knees and
his face in his hands. Mary ran to him at once. There
had been a little moment of faltering, but there was no real
surrender in her.
Dropping on her knee beside him, she said coaxingly:
"Don't give up; you are a man; you must not surrender,
and let me, a girl, prove the stronger. Shame upon you
when I look up to you so much and expect you to help me
be brave. I will go. I will arrange myself in some way.
Oh ! why am I not different ; I wish I were as straight as
the queen," and for that first time in her life she bewailed
her beauty, because it stood between her and Brandon.
She soon coaxed him out of his despondency, and we
began again to plan the matter in detail.
To Make a Man of Her 175
The girls sat on Brandon's cloak and he and I on the
camp-stool and a box.
Mary's time was well occupied in vain attempts to
keep herself covered with the cloak, which seemed to have
a right good will toward Brandon and me, but she kept
track of our plans, which, in brief, were as follows : As to
her costume, we would substitute long trunks and jack-
boots for shoes and hose, and as to the doublet, Mary
laughed and blushingly said she had a plan which she
would secretly impart to Jane, but would not tell to us.
She whispered it to Jane, who, as serious as the Lord
Chancellor, gave judgment, and " thought it would do."
We hoped so, but were full of doubts.
This is all tame enough to write and read about, but I
can tell you it was sufficiently exciting at the time.
Three of us at least were playing with that comical old
fellow, Death, and he gave the game interest and point to
our heart's content.
Through the thick time-layers of all these years, I can
still see the group as we sat there, haloed by a hazy cloud
of tear-mist. The figures rise before my eyes, so young
and fair and rich in life and yet so pathetic in their troubled
earnestness that a great flood of pity wells up in my heart
for the poor young souls, so danger-bound and suffering,
and withal so daring and so recklessly confident in the
might and right of love, and the omnipotence of youth.
Ah ! If God had seen fit in his infinite wisdom to save
just one treasure from the wreck of Eden, what a race
of thankful hearts this earth would bear, had he saved us
youth alone to thereby compensate for every other ill.
As to the elopement, it was determined that Brandon
should leave London the following day for Bristol, and
make all arrangements along the line. He would carry
with him two bundles, his own and Mary's clothing, and
leave them to be taken up when they should go a-ship-
board. Eight horses would be procured ; four to be left
as a relay at an inn between Berkeley Castle and Bristol,
and four to be kept at the rendezvous some two leagues
the other side of Berkeley for the use of Brandon, Mary
and the two men from Bristol who were to act as an escort
ij6 When Knighthood Was In Flower
on the eventful night. There was one disagreeable little
feature that we could not provide against nor entirely elim-
inate. It was the fact that Jane and I would be suspected
as accomplices before the fact of Mary's elopement; and,
as you know, to assist in the abduction of a princess is
treason — for which there is but one remedy. I thought I
had a plan to keep ourselves safe if I could only stifle for
the once Jane's troublesome and vigorous tendency to
preach the truth to all people, upon all subjects and at all
times and places. She promised to tell the story I would
drill into her, but I knew the truth would seep out in a
thousand ways. She could no more hold it than a sieve
can hold water. We were playing for great stakes, which,
if I do say it, none but the bravest hearts, bold and daring
as the truest knights of chivalry, would think of trying for.
Nothing less than the running away with the first princess
of the first blood royal of the world. Think of it ! It ap-
pals me even now. Discovery meant death to one of us
surely — Brandon ; possibly to two others — Jane and me ;
certainly, if Jane's truthfulness should become unmanage-
able, as it was so apt to do.
After we had settled everything we could think of, the
girls took their leave ; Mary slyly kissing Brandon at the
door. I tried to induce Jane to follow her lady's example,
but she was as cool and distant as the new moon.
I saw Jane again that night and told her in plain terms
what I thought of her treatment of me. I told her it was
selfish and unkind to take advantage of my love for her and
treat me so cruelly. I told her that if she had one drop of
generous blood she would tell me of her love, if she had any,
or let me know it in some way ; and if she cared nothing for
me she was equally bound to be honest and tell me plainly,
so that I would not waste my time and energy in a hopeless
cause. I thought it rather clever in me to force her into a
position where her refusal to tell me that she did not care
for me would drive her to a half avowal. Of course, I
had little fear of the former, or perhaps, I should not have
been so anxious to precipitate the issue.
She did not answer me directly, but said: "From the
To Make a Man of Her 177
way you looked at Mary to-day, I was led to think you
cared little for any other girl's opinion."
"Ah! Miss Jane!" cried I joyfully; "I have you at
last; you are jealous."
44 I give you to understand, sir, that your vanity has led
you into a great mistake."
44 As to your caring for me, or your jealousy ? Which?"
I asked seriously. Adroit, wasn't that?
44 As to the jealousy, Edwin. There, now; I think that
is saying a good deal. Too much," she said pleadingly;
but I got something more before she left, even if it was
against her will ; something that made it almost impossible
for me to hold my feet to the ground.
Jane pouted, gave me a sharp little slap and then ran
away, but at the door she turned and threw back a rare
smile that was priceless to me ; for it told me she was not
angry; and furthermore shed an illuminating ray upon a
fact which I was blind not to have seen long before ; that
is, that Jane was one of those girls who must be captured
vt et armis.
Some women can not be captured at all ; they must give
themselves ; of this class pre-eminently was Mary. Others
again will meet you half way and kindly lend a helping
hand ; while some, like Jane, are always on the run, and are
captured only by pursuit. They are usually well worth
the trouble though, and make docile captives. After that
smile from the door I felt that Jane was mine ; all I had to
do was to keep off outside enemies, charge upon her de-
fenses when the times were ripe and accept nothing short
of her own sweet self as ransom.
The next day Brandon paid his respects to the king and
queen, made his adieus to his friends and rode off alone to
Bristol. You may be sure the king showed no signs of
undue grief at his departure.
12
CHAPTER XVI
A Hawking Party
A FEW days after Brandon's departure, Mary, with the
king's consent, organized a small party to go over to
Windsor for a few weeks during the warm weather.
There were ten or twelve of us, including two chaper-
ons, the old Earl of Hertford and the dowager Duchess
of Kent. Henry might as well have sent along a pair of
spaniels to act as chaperons — it would have taken an
army to guard Mary alone — and to tell you the truth our
old chaperons needed watching more than any of us. It
was scandalous. Each of them had a touch of the gout,
and when they made wry faces it was a standing inquiry
among us whether they were leering at each other or felt
a twinge — whether it was their feet or their hearts, that
troubled them.
Mary led them a pretty life at all times, even at home
in the palace, and I know they would rather have gone off
with a pack of imps than with us. The inducement was
that it gave them better opportunities to be together — an
arrangement connived at by the queen, I think — and they
were satisfied. The earl had a wife, but he fancied the
old dowager and she fancied him, and probably the wife
fancied somebody else, so they were all happy. It greatly
amused the young people, you may be sure, and Mary
said, probably without telling the exact truth, that every
night she prayed God to pity and forgive their ugliness.
One day the princess said she was becoming alarmed;
their ugliness was so intense she feared it might be con-
tagious and spread. Then, with a most comical serious*
ness, she added :
A Hawking Party 179
"Mon Dieu! Sir Edwin, what if I should catch it?
Master Charles would not take me."
44 No danger of that, my lady; he is too devoted to see
anything but beauty in you, no matter how much you
might change."
" Do you really think so? He says so little about it
that sometimes I almost doubt."
Therein she spoke the secret of Brandon's success with
her, at least in the beginning ; for there is wonderful po-
tency in the stimulus of a healthy little doubt.
We had a delightful canter over to Windsor, I riding
with Mary most of the way. I was not averse to this ar-
rangement, as I not only relished Mary's mirth and joyous-
ness, which was at its height, but hoped I might give my
little Lady Jane a twinge or two of jealousy perchance to
fertilize her sentiments toward me.
Mary talked, and laughed, and sang, for her soul was a
fountain of gladness that bubbled up the instant pressure
was removed. She spoke of little but our last trip over
this same road, and, as we passed objects on the way, told
me of what Brandon had said at this place and that. She
laughed and dimpled exquisitely in relating how she had
deliberately made opportunities for him to flatter her, un-
til, at last, he smiled in her face and told her she was the
most beautiful creature living, but that "after all, 'beauty
was as beauty did ! ' "
44 That made me angry," said she. " I pouted for a
while, and, two or three times, was on the point of dismis-
sing him, but thought better of it and asked him plainly
wherein I did so much amiss. Then what do you think
the impudent fellow said ?"
"I can not guess."
44 He said : 4 Oh, there is so much it would take a life-
time to tell it.'
44 This made me furious, but I could not answer, and a
moment later he said : 4 Nevertheless I should be only too
glad to undertake the task.'
44 The thought never occurred to either of us then that he
would be taken at his word. Bold? I should think he
was ; I never saw anything like it ! I have not told you a
i8o When Knighthood Was In Flower
tenth part of what he said to me that day ; he said anything
he wished, and it seemed that I could neither stop him nor
retaliate. Half the* time I was angry and half the time
amused, but by the time we reached Windsor there never
was a girl more hopelessly and desperately in love than
Mary Tudor." And she laughed as if it were a huge
joke on Mary.
She continued: " That day settled matters with me for
all time. I don't know how he did it. Yes I do . . . ."
and she launched forth into an account of Brandon's per-
fections, which I found somewhat dull, and so would you.
We remained a day or two at Windsor, and then, over
the objections of our chaperons, moved on to Berkeley Cas-
tle, where Margaret of Scotland was spending the sum-
mer.
We had another beautiful ride up the dear old Thames
to Berkeley, but Mary had grown serious and saw none
of it.
On the afternoon of the appointed day, the princess sug-
gested a hawking party, and we set out in the direction of
the rendezvous. Our party consisted of myself, three
other gentlemen and three ladies besides Mary. Jane did
not go; I was afraid to trust her. She wept, and, with
difficulty, forced herself to say something about a head-
ache, but the rest of the inmates of the castle of course had
no thought that possibly they were taking their last look
upon Mary Tudor.
Think who this girl was we were running away with !
What reckless fools we were not to have seen the utter
hopelessness, certain failure, and deadly peril of our act ;
treason black as Plutonian midnight. But Providence
seems to have an especial care for fools, while wise men
are left to care for themselves, and it does look as if safety
lies in folly.
We rode on and on, and although I took two occasions,
in the presence of others, to urge Mary to return, owing
to the approach of night and threatened rain, she took her
own head, as everybody knew she always would, and con-
tinued the hunt.
Just before dark, as we neared the rendezvous, Mary
00
<L
Q •
2
UJ Q
DQ UJ
A Hawking Party 181
and I managed to ride ahead of the party quite a distance.
At last we saw a heron rise, and the princess uncapped
her hawk.
" This is my chance," she said ; " I will run away from
you now and lose myself; keep them off my track for five
minutes and I shall be safe. Good-bye, Edwin ; you and
Jane are the only persons I regret to leave. I love you
as my brother and sister. When we are settled in New
Spain we will have you both come to us. Now, Edwin,
I shall tell you something: don't let Jane put you off any
longer. She loves you ; she told me so. There ! Good-
bye, my friend; kiss her a thousand times forme." And
she flew her bird and galloped after it at headlong speed.
As I saw the beautiful young form receding from me,
perhaps forever, the tears stood in my eyes, while I thought
of the strong heart that so unfalteringly braved such dan-
gers and was so loyal to itself and daring for its love. She
had shown a little feverish .excitement for a day or two,
but it was the fever of anticipation, not of fear or hesitancy.
Soon the princess was out of sight, and I waited for the
others to overtake me. When they came up I was greeted
in chorus: " Where is the princess?" I said she had gone
off with her hawk, and had left me to bring them after her.
I held them talking while I could, and when we started to
follow took up the wrong scent. A short ride made this
apparent, when I came in for my full share of abuse and
ridicule, for I had led them against their judgment. I
was credited with being a blockhead, when in fact they
were the dupes.
We rode hurriedly back to the point of Mary's departure
and wound our horns lustily, but my object had been
accomplished, and I knew that within twenty minutes from
the time I last saw her, she would be with Brandon, on
the road to Bristol, gaining on any pursuit we could make
at the rate of three miles for two. We scoured the for-
ests far and near, but of course found no trace. After a
time rain set in and one of the gentlemen escorted the
ladies home, while three of us remained to prowl about
the woods and roads all night in a soaking drizzle. The
1 82 When Knighthood Was In Flower
task was tiresome enough for me, as it lacked motive;
and when we rode into Berkeley Castle next day, a sorrier
set of bedraggled, rain-stained, mud-covered knights you
never saw. You may know the castle was wild with ex-
citement. There were all sorts of conjectures, but soon
we unanimously concluded it had been the work of high-
waymen, of whom the country was full, and by whom the
princess had certainly been abducted.
The chaperons forgot their gout and each other, and
Jane, who was the most affected of all, had a genuine ex-
cuse for giving vent to her grief and went to bed — by far
the safest place for her.
What was to be done ? First we sent a message to the
king, who would probably have us all flayed alive — a fear
in which the chaperons shared to the fullest extent. Next,
an armed party rode back to look again for Mary, and, if
possible, rescue her.
The fact that I had been out the entire night before,
together with the small repute in which I was held for
deeds of arms, excused me from taking part in this boot-
less errand, so again I profited by the small esteem in
which I was held. I say I profited, for I stayed at the
castle with Jane, hoping to find my opportunity in the
absence of everybody else. All the ladies but Jane had
ridden out, and the knights who had been with me scour-
ing the forest were sleeping, since they had not my in-
centive to remain awake. They had no message to deliv-
er ; no duty to perform for an absent friend. A thousand !
Only think of it! I wished it had been a million, and
so faithful was I to my trust that I swore in my soul I would
deliver them, every one.
And Jane loved me ! No more walking on the hard,
prosaic earth now; from this time forth I would fly; that
was the only sensible method of locomotion. Mary had
said: " She told me so." Could it really be true? You
will at once see what an advantage this bit of information
was to me.
I hoped that Jane would wish to see me to talk over
Mary's escape — so I sent word to her that I was waiting,
and she quickly enough recovered her health and came
A Hawking Party 183
down. I suggested that we walk out to a secluded little
summer-house by the river, and Jane was willing. Ah !
my opportunity was here at last.
She found her bonnet, and out we went. What an en-
chanting walk was that, and how rich is a man who has
laid up such treasures of memory to grow the sweeter as
he feeds upon them. A rich memory is better than hope,
for it lasts after fruition, and serves us at a time when hope
has failed and fruition is but — a memory. Ah ! how we
cherish it in our hearts, and how it comes at our beck and
call to thrill us through and through and make us thank
God that we have lived, and wonder in our hearts why he
has given poor undeserving us so much.
After we arrived at the summer-house, Jane listened,
half the time in tears, while I told her all about Mary's
flight.
Shall I ever forget that summer day ? A sweet briar
entwined our enchanted bower, and, when I catch its scent
even now, time-vaulting memory carries me back, making
years seem as days, and I see it all as I saw the light of
noon that moment— and all was Jane. The softly lapping
river, as it gently sought the sea, sang in soothing cadence
of naught but Jane ; the south wind from his flowery home
breathed zephyr- voiced her name again, and, as it stirred
the rustling leaves on bush and tree, they whispered back
the same sweet strain ; and every fairy voice found its echo
in my soul; for there it was as 'twas with me, ujane!
Jane ! Jane !" I have heard men say they would not live
their lives over and take its meager grains of happiness,
in such infinite disproportion to its grief and pain, but,
as for me, thanks to one woman, I almost have the min-
utes numbered all along the way, and know them one from
the other ; and when I sit alone to dream, and live again
some portion of the happy past, I hardly know what time
to choose or incident to dwell upon, my life is so much
crowded with them all. Would I live again my life?
Aye, every moment except perhaps when Jane was ill —
and therein even was happiness, for what a joy there was
at her recovery. I do not even regret that it is closing ; it
would be ungrateful ; I have had so much more than my
184 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
share that I simply fall upon my knees and thank God for
what He has given.
Jane's whole attitude toward me was changed, and she
seemed to cling to me in a shy, unconscious manner, that
was sweet beyond the naming, as the one solace for all her
grief.
After I had answered all her questions, and had told her
over and over again every detail of Mary's flight, and had
assured her that the princess was, at that hour, breasting the
waves with Brandon, on their high road to paradise, I
thought it time to start myself in the same direction and
to say a word in my own behalf. So I spoke very freely
and told Jane what I felt and what I wanted.
" Oh! Sir Edwin," she responded, " let us not think of
anything but my mistress. Think of the trouble she
is in."
1 1 No ! no ! Jane ; Lady Mary is out of her trouble by
now, and is as happy as a lark, you may be sure. Has she
not won everything her heart longed for? Then let us
make our own paradise, since we have helped them make
theirs. You have it, Jane, just within your 'lips; speak
the word and it will change everything — if you love me,
and I know you do."
Jane's head was bowed and she remained silent.
Then I told her of Lady Mary's message, and begged, if
she would not speak in words what I so longed to hear, she
would at least tell it by allowing me to deliver only one
little thousandth part of the message Mary had sent ; but
she drew away and said she would return to the castle if I
continued to behave in that manner. I begged hard, and
tried to argue the point, but logic seems to lose its force in
such a situation, and all I said availed nothing. Jane was
obdurate, and was for going back at once. Her persist-
ency was beginning to look like obstinacy, and I soon
grew so angry that I asked no permission, but delivered
Mary's message, or a good part of it, at least, whether she
would or no, and then sat back and asked her what she
was going to do about it.
Poor little Jane thought she was undone for life. She
sat there half pouting, half weeping, and said she could do
. . „ I DELIVERED THE REST OF
MARY'S MESSAGE." p. 185
A Hawking Party 185
nothing about it; that she was alone now, and if I, her
only friend, would treat her that way, she did not know
where to look.
" Where to look?" I demanded. "Look here, Jane,
here ; you might as well understand, first as last, that I
will not be trifled with longer, and that I intend to continue
treating you that way as long as we both live. I have de-
termined not to permit you to behave as you have for so
long ; for I know you love me. You have half told me so a
dozen times, and even your half words are whole truths ;
there is not a fraction of a lie in you. Besides, Mary told
me that you told her so."
" She did not tell you that?"
'* Yes ; upon my knightly honor." Of course there was
but one answer to this — tears. I then brought the battle to
close quarters at once, and, with my arm uninterrupted at
my lady's waist, asked :
" Did you not tell her so ? I know you will speak noth-
ing but the truth. Did you not tell her? Answer me,
Jane." The fair head nodded as she whispered between
the hands that covered her face :
" Yes; I — I — d-did;" and I — well, I delivered the rest
of Mary's message, and that, too, without a protest from
Jane.
Truthfulness is a pretty good thing after all.
So Jane was conquered at last, and I heaved a sigh as
the battle ended, for it had been a long, hard struggle.
I asked Jane when we should be married, but she said
she could not think of that now— not until she knew that
Mary was safe ; but she would promise to be my wife
sometime. I told her that her word was as good as gold
to me ; and so it was and always has been ; as good as
fine gold thrice refined. I then told her I would bother
her no more about it, now that I was sure of her, but when
she was ready she should tell me of her own accord and
make my happiness complete. She said she would, and I
told her I believed her and was satisfied. I did, however,
suggest that the intervening time would be worse than
wasted — happiness thrown right in the face of Providence,
as it were — and begged her not to waste any more than
186 When Knighthood Was In Ffowct
necessary ; to which she seriously and honestly answered
that she would not.
We went back to the castle, and as we parted Jane said
timidly: '* I am glad I told you, Edwin ; glad it is over."
She had evidently dreaded it; but — I was glad, too;
right glad. Then I went to bed.
CHAPTER XVII
The Elopement
WHATEVER the king might think, I knew Lord Wolsey
would quickly enough guess the truth when he heard that the
princess was missing, and would have a party in pursuit.
The runaways, however, would have at least twenty-four
hours the start, and a ship leaves no tracks. When Mary
left me she was perhaps two-thirds of a league from the
rendezvous, and night was rapidly falling. As her road lay
through a dense forest all the way, she would have a dark,
lonely ride of a few minutes, and I was somewhat uneasy
for that part of the journey. It had been agreed that if
everything was all right at the rendezvous, Mary should
turn loose her horse, which had always been stabled at
Berkeley Castle and would quickly trot home. To fur-
ther emphasize her safety a thread would be tied in his
forelock. The horse took his time in returning, and did
not arrive until the second morning after the flight, but
when he came I found the thread, and, unobserved, re-
moved it. I quickly took it to Jane, who has it yet, and
cherishes it for the mute message of comfort it brought
her. In case the horse should not return, I was to find a
token in a hollow tree near the place of meeting; but the
thread in the forelock told us our friends had found each
other.
When we left the castle, Mary wore under her riding
habit a suit of man's attire, and, as we rode along, she
would shrug her shoulders and laugh as if it were a huge
joke ; and by the most comical little pantomime, call my
attention to her unusual bulk. So, when she found Bran-
don, the only change necessary to make a man of her wai
i88 "When Knighthood Was In Flowet
to throw off the riding habit and pull on the jack-boots
and slouch hat, both of which Brandon had with him.
They wasted no time you may be sure, and were soon
under way. In a few minutes they picked up the two
Bristol men who were to accompany them, and, when
night had fairly fallen, left the by-paths and took to the
main road leading from London to Bath and Bristol. The
road was a fair one ; that is, it was well defined and there
was no danger of losing it ; in fact, there was more danger
of losing one's self in its fathomless mud -holes and quag-
mires. Brandon had recently passed over it twice, and had
made mental note of the worst places, so he hoped to avoid
them.
Soon the rain began to fall in a soaking drizzle ; then
the lamps of twilight went out, and even the shadows
of the night were lost among themselves in blinding
darkness. It was one of those black nights fit for witch
traveling ; and, no doubt, every witch in England was out
brewing mischief. The horses' hoofs sucked and splashed
in the mud with a sound that Mary thought might be heard
at Land's End ; and the hoot of an owl, now and then dis-
turbed by a witch, would strike upon her ear with a volume
of sound infinitely disproportionate to the size of any owl
she had ever seen or dreamed of before.
Brandon wore our cushion, the great cloak, and had pro-
vided a like one of suitable proportions for the princess.
This came in good play, as her fine gentleman's attire
would be but poor stuff to turn the water. The wind,
which had arisen with just enough force to set up a
dismal wail, gave the rain a horizontal slant and drove
it in at every opening. The flaps of the comfortable
great cloak blew back from Mary's knees, and she felt
many a chilling drop through her fine new silk trunks that
made her wish for buckram in their place. Soon the water
began to trickle down her legs and find lodgment in the
jack-boots, and as the rain and wind came in tremulous lit-
tle whirrs, she felt wretched enough — she who had always
been so well sheltered from every blast. Now and then
mud and water would fly up into her face — striking usually
in the eyes or mouth — and then again her horse would
. . ONE OF THOSE
BLACK NIGHTS FIT
FOR WITCH TRAVELING
p. 1 88
The Elopement 189
stumble and almost throw her over his head,'as he sunk, knee
deep, into some unexpected hole. All of this, with the thou-
sand and one noises that broke the still worse silence of the
inky night soon began to work upon her nerves and make
her fearful. The road was full of dangers aside from stumb-
ling horses and broken necks, for many were the stories of
murder and robbery committed along the route they were
traveling. It is true they had two stout men, and all were
armed, yet they might easily come upon a party too strong
for them ; and no one could tell what might happen, thought
the princess. There was that pitchy darkness through which
she could hardly see her horse's head — a thing of itself that
seemed to have infinite powers for mischief, and which no
amount of argument ever induced any normally constituted
woman to believe was the mere negative absence of light,
and not a terrible entity potent for all sorts of mischief.
Then that wailing howl that rose and fell betimes ; no wind
ever made such a noise, she felt sure. There were those
shining white gleams which came from the little pools of
water on the road, looking like dead men's faces up-
turned and pale ; perhaps they were water and perhaps
they were not. Mary had all confidence in Brandon, but
that very fact operated against her. Having that confidence
and trust in him, she felt no need to waste her own energy
in being brave ; so she relaxed completely, and had the
feminine satisfaction of allowing herself to be thoroughly
frightened.
Is it any wonder Mary's gallant but womanly spirit sunk
low in the face of all those terrc rs ? She held out bravely,
however, and an occasional clasp from Brandon's hand
under cover of the darkness comforted her. When all
those terrors would not suggest even a thought of turn-
ing back, you may judge of the character of this girl and
her motive.
They traveled on, galloping when they could, trotting
when they could not gallop, and walking when they must.
At one time they thought they heard the sound of fol-
lowing horses, and hastened on as fast as they dare go, un-
til, stopping to listen and hearing nothing, they concluded
they were wrong. About eleven o'clock, however, right
190 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
out of the black bank of night in front of them they heard,
in earnest, the sucking splash of horses' hoofs. In an in-
stant the sound ceased and the silence was worse than the
noise. The cry "Hollo!" brought them all to a stand,
and Mary thought her time had come.
Both sides shouted, " Who comes there?" to which there
was a simultaneous and eager answer, "A friend," and
each party passed its own way, only too glad to be rid of
the other. Mary's sigh of relief could be heard above
even the wind and the owls, and her heart beat as if it had
a task to finish within a certain time.
After this they rode on as rapidly as they dared, and
about midnight arrived at the inn where the relay of horses
was awaiting them.
The inn was a rambling old thatched-roofed structure,
half mud, half wood, and all filth. There are many inns
in England that are tidy enough, but this one was a lit-
tle off the main road — selected for that reason — and the un-
cleanness was not the least of Mary's trials that hard night.
She had not tasted food since noon, and felt the keen hun-
ger natural to youth and health such as hers, after twelve
hours of fasting and eight hours of riding. Her appetite
soon overcame her repugnance, and she ate, with a zest
that was new to her, the humblest fare that had ever passed
her lips. One often misses the zest of life's joys by having
too much of them, and must want a thing before it can be
appreciated.
A hard ride of five hours brought our travelers to Bath,
which place they rode arot nd just as the sun began to gild
the tile roofs and steeples, and another hour brought them
to Bristol.
The ship was to sail at sunrise, but as the wind had died
out with the night, there was no danger of its sailing with-
out them. Soon the gates opened, and the party rode to
the Bow and String, where Brandon had left their chests.
The men were then paid off ; quick sale was made of the
horses; breakfast was served, and they started for the
wharf, with their chests following in the hands of four
porters.
A boat soon took them aboard the Royal Hind, and
The Elopement 191
now it looked as if their daring scheme, so full of improb-
ability as to seem impossible, had really come to a success-
ful issue.
From the beginning, I think, it had never occurred to
Mary to doubt the result. There had never been with her
even a suggestion of possible failure, unless it was that
evening in our room, when, prompted by her startled mod-
esty, she had said she could not bear for us to see her in
the trunk hose. Now that fruition seemed about to crown
her hopes she was happy to her heart's core ; and when once
to herself wept for sheer joy. It is little wonder she was
happy. She was leaving behind no one whom she loved
excepting Jane, and, perhaps, me. No father or mother;
only a sister whom she barely knew, and a brother whose
treatment of her had turned her heart against him. She
was also fleeing with the one man in all the world for her,
and from a marriage that was literally worse than death.
Brandon, on the other hand, had always had more desire
than hope. The many chances against success had forced
upon him a haunting sense of certain failure, which, one
would think, should have left him now. It did not, how-
ever, and even when on shipboard, with a score of men at
the windlass ready to heave anchor at the first breath of
wind, it was as strong as when Mary first proposed their
flight, sitting in the window on his great cloak. Such were
their opposite positions. Both were without doubt, but
with this difference; Mary had never doubted success;
Brandon never doubted failure. He had a keen analytical
faculty that gave him truthfully the chances for and against,
and, in this case, they were overwhelmingly unfavorable.
Such hope as he had been able to distill out of his desire
was sadly dampened by an ever-present premonition of
failure, which he could not entirely throw off. Too keen
an insight for the truth often stands in a man's way, and
too clear a view of an overwhelming obstacle is apt to
paralyze effort. Hope must always be behind a hearty en-
deavor.
Our travelers were, of course, greatly in need of rest;
so Mary went to her room, and Brandon took n berth in
the cabin set apart for the gentlemen.
192 "When Knighthood Was In Flowet
They had both paid for their passage, although they had
enlisted and were part of the ship's company. They were
not expected to do sailor's work, but would be called upon
in case of fighting to do their part at that. Mary was prob-
ably as good a fighter, in her own line, as one could find
in a long journey, but how she was to do her part with
sword and buckler Brandon did not know. That, how-
ever, was a bridge to be crossed when they should come to
it.
They had gone aboard about seven o'clock, and Bran-
don hoped the ship would be well down Bristol channel
before he should leave his berth. But the wind that had
filled Mary's jack-boots with rain and had howled so dis-
mally all night long would not stir, now that it was wanted.
Noon came, yet no wind, and the sun shone as placidly as
if Captain Charles Brandon were not fuming with impa-
tience on the poop of the Royal Hind. Three o'clock and
no wind. The captain said it would come with night, but
sundown was almost at hand and no wind yet. Brandon
knew this meant failure if it held a little longer, for he was
certain the king, with Wolsey's help, would long since have
guessed the truth.
Brandon had not seen the princess since morning, and
the delicacy he felt about going to her cabin made the situa-
tion somewhat difficult. After putting it off from hour to
hour in hope that she would appear of her own accord, he
at last knocked at her door, and, of course, found the lady
in trouble.
The thought of the princess going on deck caused a
sinking at his heart every time it came, as he felt that it
was almost impossible to conceal her identity. He had
not seen her in her new male attire, for when she threw
off her riding habit on meeting himlthe night before, he
had intentionally busied himself about *the horses, and saw
her only after the great cloak covered her as a gown. He
felt that however well her garments might conceal her
form, no man on earth ever had such beauty in his face as
her transcendent eyes, rose-tinted cheeks, and coral lips,
with their cluster of dimples ; and his heart sunk at the
prospect. She might hold out for a while with a straight
The Elopement 193
face, but when the smiles should come — it were just as
well to hang a placard about her neck: '* This is a wom-
an." The tell-tale dimples would be worse than Jane
for outspoken, untimely truthfulness and trouble-provoking
candor.
Upon entering, Brandon found Mary wrestling with the
problem of her complicated male attire ; the most beautiful
picture of puzzled distress imaginable. The port was
open and showed her rosy as the morn when she looked
up at him. The jack-boots were in a corner, and her little
feet seemed to put up a protest all their own, against going
into them, that ought to have softened every peg. She
looked up at Brandon with a half-hearted smile, and then
threw her arms about his neck and sobbed like the child
that she was.
11 Do you regret coming, Lady Mary?" asked Brandon,
who, now that she was alone with him, felt that he must take
no advantage of the fact to be familiar.
4 'No! no! not for one moment; I am glad — only too
glad. But why do you call me 'Lady* ? You used to call
me 'Mary.'"
" I don't know; perhaps because you are alone.'*
" Ah ! that is good of you ; but you need not be quite so
respectful."
The matter was settled by mute but satisfactory arbitra-
tion, and Brandon continued: "You must make yourself
ready to go on deck. It will be hard, but it must be
done."
He helped her with the heavy jack-boots and handed
her the rain-stained slouch hat which she put on, and stood
a complete man ready for the deck — that is, as complete
as could be evolved from her utter femininity.
When Brandon .ooked her over, all hope went out of
him. It seemed that every change of dress only added to
her bewitching beauty by showing it in a new phase.
" It will never do; there is no disguising you. What is
it that despite everything shows so unmistakably feminine ?
What shall we do ? I have it ; you shall remain here under
the pretense of illness until we are well at sea, and then I
'3
194 When Knighthood Was In Flower
will tell the captain all. It is too bad ; and yet I would
not have you one whit less a woman for all the world. A
man loves a woman who is so thoroughly womanly that
nothing can hide it."
Mary was pleased at his flattery, but disappointed at the
failure in herself. She had thought that surely these
garments would make a man of her in which the keenest
eye could not detect a flaw.
They were discussing the matter when a knock came at
the door with the cry, "All hands on deck for inspection."
Inspection! Jesu! Mary would not safely endure it a
minute. Brandon left her at once and went to the cap-
tain.
" My lord is ill, and begs to be excused from deck in-
spection," he said.
Bradhurst, a surly old half pirate of the saltiest pattern,
answered: "111? Then he had better go ashore as soon
as possible. I will refund his money. We can not make
a hospital out of the ship. If his lordship is too ill to stand
inspection, see that he goes ashore at once."
This last was addressed to one of the ship's officers, who
answered with the usual "Aye, aye, sir," and started for
Mary's cabin.
That was worse than ever ; and Brandon quickly said
he would have his lordship up at once. He then returned
to Mary, and after buckling on her sword and belt they
went on deck and climbed up the poop ladder to take their
places with those entitled to stand aft.
Brandon has often told me since that it was as much as
he could do to keep back the tears when he saw Mary's
wonderful effort to appear manly. It was both comical
and pathetic. She was a princess to whom all the world
bowed down, yet that did not help her here. After all
she was only a girl, timid and fearful, following at Bran-
don's heels; frightened lest she should get out of arm's
reach of him among those rough men, and longing with
all her heart to take his hand for moral as well as physical
support. It must have been both laughable and pathetic
in the extreme. That miserable sword persisted in trip-
ping her, and the jack-boots, so much too large, evinced
"THESE FELLOWS . . . GATHERED
ABOUT MARY
TO INSPECT HER." p. 795
The Elopement 195
an alarming tendency to slip off with every step. How in-
sane we all were not to have foreseen this from the very
beginning. It must have been a unique figure she presented
climbing up the steps at Brandon's heels, jack-boots and
all. So unique was it that the sailors working in the ship's
waist stopped their tasks to stare in wonderment, and the
gentlemen on the poop made no effort to hide their amuse-
ment. Old Bradhurst stepped up to her.
" I hope your lordship is feeling better;" and then, sur-
veying her from head to foot, with a broad grin on his feat-
ures, u I declare, you look the picture of health, if I ever
saw it. How old are you ?' '
Mary quickly responded, " Fourteen years."
11 Fourteen," returned Bradhurst; " well, I don't think
you will shed much blood. You look more like a deuced
handsome girl than any man I ever saw." At this the
men all laughed, and were very impertinent in the free and
easy manner of such gentry, most of whom were profes-
sional adventurers, with every finer sense dulled and de-
based by years of vice.
These fellows, half of them tipsy, now gathered about
Mary to inspect her personally, each on his own account.
Their looks and conduct were very disconcerting, but they
did nothing insulting until one fellow gave her a slap on the
back, accompanying it by an indecent remark. Brandon
tried to pay no attention to them, but this was too much, so
he lifted his arm and knocked the fellow off the poop into
the waist. The man was back in a moment, and swords
were soon drawn and clicking away at a great rate. The
contest was brief, however, as the fellow was no sort of a
match for Brandon, who, with his old trick, quickly twisted
his adversary's sword out of his grasp, and with a flash of
his own blade flung it into the sea. The other men were
now talking together at a little distance in whispers, and in
a moment one drunken brute shouted, u It is no man; it is
a woman ; let us see more of her."
Before Brandon could interfere, the fellow had unbuck-
led Mary's doublet at the throat, and with a jerk,had torn
it half off, carrying away the sleeve and exposing Mary's
shoulder, almost throwing her to the deck.
196 When Knighthood "Was In Flowef
He waved his trophy on high, but his triumph was short-
lived, for almost instantly it fell to the deck, and with it
the offending hand severed at the wrist by Brandon's
sword. Three or four friends of the wounded man rushed
upon Brandon ; whereupon Mary screamed and began to
weep, which of course told the whole story.
A great laugh went up, and instantly a general fight
began. Several of the gentlemen, seeing Brandon at-
tacked by such odds, took up his defense, and within
twenty seconds all were on one side or the other, every
mother's son of them fighting away like mad.
You see how quickly and completely one woman with-
out the slightest act on her part, except a modest effort to be
let alone, had set the whole company by the ears, cutting
and slashing away at each other like very devils. The sex
must generate mischief in some unknown manner, and
throw it off, as the sun throws off its heat. However,
Jane is an exception to that rule — if it is a rule.
The officers soon put a stop to this lively little fight,
and took Brandon and Mary, who was weeping as any
right-minded woman would, down into the cabin for con-
sultation.
With a great oath Bradhurst exclaimed : '* It is plain
enough that you have brought a girl on board under false
colors, and you may as well make ready to put her ashore.
You see what she has already done — a hand lost to one
man and wounds for twenty others — and she was on deck
less than five minutes. Heart of God ! At that rate she
would have the ship at the bottom of Davy Jones's locker
before we could sail half down the channel."
44 It was not my fault," sobbed Mary, her eyes flashing
fire ; " I did nothing ; all I wanted was to be left alone ; but
those brutes of men — you shall pay for this ; remember
what I say. Did you expect Captain Brandon to stand
back and not defend me, when that wretch was tearing my
garments off?"
1 4 Captain Brandon, did you say?" asked Bradhurst,
with his hat off instantly. 4l Yes," answered that individ-
ual. " I shipped under an assumed name, for various
reasons, and desire not to be known. You will do well to
keep my secret."
The Elopement 197
" Do I understand that you are Master Charles Brandon,
the. king's friend?" asked Bradhurst.
"I am," was the answer.
"Then, sir, I must ask your pardon for the way you
have been treated. We, of course, could not know it, but
a man must expect trouble when he attaches himself to a
woman." It is a wonder the flashes from Mary's eyes
did not strike the old sea-dog dead. He, however, did
not see them, and went on: " We are more than anxious
that so valiant knight as Sir Charles Brandon should go
with us, and hope your reception will not drive you back,
but as to the lady — you see already the result of her pres-
ence, and much as we want you, we can not take her.
Aside from the generalfftr ouble which a woman takes with
her everywhere" — Mary would not even look at the creature
— *' on shipboard there is another and greater objection.
It is said, you know, among sailors, that a woman on
board draws bad luck to certain sorts of ships, and every
sailor would desert, before we could weigh anchor, if it
were known this lady was to go with us. Should they find
it out in mid-ocean, a mutiny would be sure to follow, and
God only knows what would happen. For her sake, if no
other reason, take her ashore at once."
Brandon saw only too plainly the truth that he had really
seen all the time, but to which he had shut his eyes, and
throwing Mary's cloak over her shoulders, prepared to go
ashore. As they went over the side and pulled off, a great
shout went up from the ship far more derisive than cheering,
and the men at the oars looked at each other askance and
smiled. What a predicament for a princess! Brandon
cursed himself for having been such a knave and fool as
to allow this to happen. He had known the danger all
the time, and his act could not be chargeable to ignorance
or a failure to see the probable consequences. Temp-
tation, and selfish desire, had given him temerity in place
of judgment. He had attempted what none but an insane
man would have tried, without even the pitiable excuse of
insanity. He had seen it all only too clearly from the very
beginning, and he had deliberately and with open eyes
brought disgrace, ruin, and death — unless he could escape
198 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
—upon himself, and utter humiliation to her whom his
love should have prompted him to save at all cost. If
Mary could only have disguised herself to look like a man
they might have succeeded, but that little ' if ' was larger
than Paul's church, and blocked the road as completely
as if it had been a word of twenty syllables.
When the princess stepped ashore it seemed to her as if
the heart in her breast was a different and separate organ
from the one she had carried aboard.
As the boat put off again for the ship, its crew gave a
cheer coupled with some vile advice, for which Brandon
would gladly have run them through, each and every one.
He had to swallow his chagrin and anger, and really
blamed no one but himself, though it was torture to him
that this girl should be subjected to such insults, and he
powerless to avenge them. The news had spread from
the wharf like wildfire, and on their way back to the Bow
and String, there came from small boys and hidden voices
such exclamations as: "Look at the woman in man's
clothing;" " Isn't he a beautiful man?" "Look at him
blush;" and others too coarse to be repeated. Imagine
the humiliating situation, from which there was no escape.
At last they reached the inn, whither their chests soon
followed them, sent by Bradhurst, together with their pas-
sage money, which he very honestly refunded.
Mary soon donned her woman's attire, of which she had
a supply in her chest, and at least felt more comfortable
without the jack-boots. She had made her toilet alone for
the first time in her life, having no maid to help her, and
wept as she dressed, for this disappointment was like pluck-
ing the very heart out of her. Her hope had been so high
that the fall was all the harder. Nay, even more ; hope
had become fruition to her when they were once a-ship-
board, and failure right at the door of success made it
doubly hard to bear. It crushed her, and, where before
had been hope and confidence, was nothing now but de-
spair. Like all people with a great capacity for elation,
when she sunk she touched the bottom. Alas ! Mary, the
unconquerable, was down at last.
This failure meant so much to her ; it meant that she
The Elopement 199
would never be Brandon's wife, but would go to France to
endure the dreaded old Frenchman. At that thought a
recoil came. Her spirit asserted itself, and she stamped
her foot and swore upon her soul it should never be; never!
never ! so long as she had strength to fight or voice to cry,
44 No." The thought of this marriage and of the loss of
Brandon was painful enough, but there came another, en-
tirely new to her and infinitely worse.
Hastily arranging her dress, she went in search of Bran-
don, whom she quickly found and took to her room.
After closing the door she said : * ; I thought I had reached
the pinnacle of disappointment and pain when compelled
to leave the ship, for it meant that I should lose you and
have to marry Louis of France. But I have found that
there is still a possible pain more poignant than either, and
I can not bear it ; so I come to you — you who are the great
cure for all my troubles. Oh! that I could lay them here
all my life long," and she put her head upon his breast,
forgetting what she had intended to say.
"What is the trouble, Mary? "
" Oh ! yes ! I thought of that marriage and of losing you,
and then, oh! Mary Mother! I thought of some other
woman having you to herself. I could see her with you,
and I was jealous — I think they call it. I have heard of
the pangs of jealousy, and if the fear of a rival is so great
what would the reality be ? It would kill me ; I could not
endure it. I can not endure even this, and I want you to
swear that "
Brandon took her in his arms as she began to weep.
11 1 will gladly swear by everything I hold sacred that no
other woman than you shall ever be my wife. If I can not
have you, be sure you have spoiled every other woman for
me. There is but one in all the world — but one. I can at
least save you that pain."
She then stood on tip-toes to lift her lips to him, and
said: "I give you the same promise. How you must
have suffered when you thought I was to wed another."
After a pause she went on: ** But it might have been
worse — that is, it would be worse if you should marry
some other woman ; but that is all settled now and I feel
200 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
easier. Then I might have married the old French king,
but that, too, is settled ; and we can endure the lesser pain.
It always helps us when we are able to think it might
have been worse."
Her unquestioning faith in Brandon was beautiful, and
she never doubted that he spoke the unalterable truth when
he said he would never marry any other woman. She had
faith in herself, too, and was confident that her promise to
marry no man but Brandon ended that important matter
likewise, and put the French marriage totally out of the
question for all time to come.
As for Brandon, he was safe enough in his part of the
contract. He knew only too well that no woman could
approach Mary in her inimitable perfections, and had
tested his love closely enough, in his struggle against it,
to feel that it had taken up Its abode in his heart to stay,
whether he wanted it or not. He knew that he was safe
in making her a promise which he was powerless to break.
All this he fully explained to Mary, as they sat looking out
the window at the dreary rain which had come on again
with the gathering gloom of night.
Brandon did not tell her that his faith in her ultimate
ability to keep her promise was as small as it was great in
his own. Neither did he dampen her spirits by telling her
that there was a reason, outside of himself, which in all
probability would help him in keeping his word, and save
her from the pangs of that jealousy she so much feared ;
namely, that he would most certainly wed the block and ax
should the king get possession of him. He might have
escaped from England in the Royal Hind, for the wind
had come up shortly after they left the ship, and they could
see the sails indistinctly through the gloom as she got
under way. But he could not leave Mary alone, and had
made up his mind to take her back to London and march
straight into the jaws of death with her, if the king's men
did not soon come.
He knew that a debt to folly bears no grace, and was
ready with his principal and usance.
"AT MIDNIGHT A BODY OF YEOMEN
. . . TOOK POSSESSION OF
THE BOW AND STRING." p. 201
CHAPTER XVIII
To the Tower
WHETHER or not Brandon would have found some way
to deliver the princess safely home, and still make his es-
cape, I can not say, as he soon had no choice in the matter.
At midnight a body of yeomen from the tower took posses-
sion of the Bow and String, and carried Brandon off to
London without communication with Mary. She did not
know of his arrest until next morning, when she was in-
formed that she was to follow immediately, and her heart
was nearly broken.
Here again was trouble for Mary. She felt, however,
that the two great questions, the marriage of herself to
Louis, and Brandon to any other person, were, as she called
it, " settled" ; and was almost content to endure this as a
mere putting off of her desires — a meddlesome and im-
pertinent interference of the Fates who would soon learn
with whom they were dealing and amend their conduct.
She did not understand the consequences for Brandon,
nor that the Fates would have to change their purpose very
quickly or something would happen worse, even, than his
marriage to another woman.
On the second morning after leaving Bristol, Brandon
reached London, and, as he expected, was sent to the Tower.
The next evening Lady Mary arrived and was taken down
to Greenwich.
The girl's fair name was, of course, lost — but, fortu-
nately, that goes for little with a princess — since no one
would believe that Brandon had protected her against him-
self as valiantly and honorably as he would against another.
(201)
202 "When Knighthood Was In Flower '
The princess being much more unsophisticated than the
courtiers were ready to believe, never thought of saying
anything to establish her innocence or virtue, and her
silence was put down to shame and taken as evidence
against her.
Jane met Mary at Windsor, and, of course, there was
a great flood of tears.
Upon arriving at the palace, the girls were left to them-
selves upon Mary's promise not to leave her room; but, by
the next afternoon, she, having been unable to learn any-
thing concerning Brandon, broke her parole and went out
to seek the king.
It never occurred to Mary that Brandon might suffer
death for attempting to run away with her. She knew only
too well that she alone was to blame, not only for that,
but for all that had taken place between them, and never
for one moment thought that he might be punished for her
fault ; even admitting there was fault in any one, which she
was by no means ready to do.
The trouble in her mind, growing out of a lack of news
from Brandon, was of a general nature, and the possibility
of his death had no place in her thoughts. Nevertheless,
for the second time, Brandon had been condemned to die
for her sake. The king's seal had stamped the warrant for
the execution, and the headsman had sharpened his ax and
could almost count the golden fee for his butchery.
Mary found the king playing cards with de Longueville.
There was a roomful of courtiers, and as she entered she
was the target for every eye; but she was on familiar
ground now, and did not care for the glances nor the
observers, most of whom she despised. She was the prin-
cess again and full of self-confidence ; so she went straight
to the object of her visit, the king. She had not made up
her mind just what to say first, there was so much ; but
Henry saved her the trouble. He, of course, was in a
great rage, and denounced Mary's conduct as unnatural
and treasonable ; the latter, in Henry's mind, being a crime
many times greater than the breaking of all the command-
ments put together, in one fell, composite act. All this
the king had communicated to Mary by the lips of Wolsey
To the Tower 203
the evening before, and Mary had received it with a silent
scorn that would have withered any one but the worthy
bishop of York. As I said, when Mary approached her
brother, he saved her the trouble of deciding where to be-
gin by speaking first himself, and his words were of a part
with his nature — violent, cruel and vulgar. He abused her
and called her all the vile names in his ample vocabulary
of billingsgate. The queen was present, and aided and
abetted with a word now and then, until Henry, with her
help, at last succeeded in working himself into a towering
passion, and wound up by calling Mary a vile wanton in
plainer terms than I like to write. This aroused all the
antagonism in the girl, and there was plenty of it. She
feared Henry no more than she feared me. Her eyes
flashed a fire that made even the king draw back as she
exclaimed: u You give me that name and expect me to
remember you are my brother ? There are words which
make a mother hate her first-born, and that is one. Tell
me what I have done to deserve it ? I expected to hear of
ingratitude and disobedience and all that, but supposed you
had at least some traces of brotherly feeling — for ties of
blood are hard to break— even if you have of late lost all
semblance to man or king."
This was hitting Henry hard, for it was beginning to be
the talk in every mouth that he was leaving all the affairs
of state to Wolsey and spending his time in puerile amuse-
ment. " The toward hope which at all poyntes appeared
in the younge Kynge" was beginning to look, after all,
like nothing more than the old-time, royal cold fire, made
to consume but not to warm the nation.
Henry looked at Mary with the stare of a baited bull.
" If running off in male attire, and stopping at inns and
boarding ships with a common captain of the guard doesn't
justify my accusation and stamp you what you are, I do
not know what would."
Even Henry saw her innocence in her genuine surprise.
She was silent for a little time, and I, standing close to her,
could plainly see that this phase of the question had never
before presented itself.
She hung her head for a moment and then spoke: u It
204 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
may be true, as you say, that what I have done will lose
me my fair name — I had never thought of it in that light —
but it is also true that I am innocent and have done no
wrong. You may not believe me, but you can ask Mas-
ter Brandon" — here the king gave a great laugh, and of
course the courtiers joined in.
"It is all very well for you to laugh, but Master Bran-
don would not tell you a lie for your crown — ' ' Gods ! I
could have fallen on my knees to a faith like that — "What
I tell you is true. I trusted him so completely that the
fear of dishonor at his hands never suggested itself to me.
I knew he would care for and respect me. I trusted him,
and my trust was not misplaced. Of how many of these
creatures who laugh when the king laughs could I say as
much?" And Henry knew she spoke the truth, both con-
cerning herself and the courtiers.
With downcast eyes she continued: " I suppose, after
all, you are partly right in regard to me ; for it was his
honor that saved me, not my own ; and if I am not what you
called me I have Master Brandon to thank — not myself."
" We will thank him publicly on Tower Hill, day after
to-morrow, at noon," said the king, with his accustomed
delicacy breaking the news of Brandon's sentence as ab-
ruptly as possible.
With a look of terror in her eyes, Mary screamed:
" What! Charles Brandon .... Tower Hill? .... You
are going to kill him?"
"I think we will," responded Henry; " it usually has
that effect, to separate the head from the body and quarter
the remains to decorate the four gates. We will take you
up to London in a day or two and let you see his beautiful
head on the bridge."
"Behead — quarter — bridge! Lord Jesu!" She could
not grasp the thought ; she tried to speak, but the words
would not come. In a moment she became more coher-
ent, and the words rolled from her lips, as a mighty flood
tide pours back through the arches of London Bridge.
"You shall not kill him; he is blameless; you do not
know. Drive these gawking fools out of the room, and I
will tell you all." The king ordered the room cleared of
To the Tower 205
everybody but Wolsey, Jane and myself, who remained
at Mary's request. When all were gone the princess con-
tinued: " Brother, this man is in no way to blame; it is
all my fault — my fault that he loves me ; my fault that he
tried to run away to New Spain with me. It may be that
I have done wrong and that my conduct has been unmaid-
enly, but I could not help it. From the first time I ever
saw him in the lists with you at Windsor there was a
gnawing hunger in my heart beyond my control. I sup-
posed, of course, that day he would contrive some way to
be presented to me . . . ."
44 You did?"
"Yes, but he made no effort at all, and when we
met he treated me as if I were an ordinary girl."
"He did?"
" Yes."
"Horrible."
Mary was too intent on her story to heed the sarcasm,
and continued: " That made me all the more interested
in him since it showed that he was different from the
wretches who beset you and me with their flattery,
and I soon began to seek him on every occasion. This is
an unmaidenly history I am giving, I know, but it is the
truth and must be told. I was satisfied at first if I
could only be in the same room with him, and see his
face, and hear his voice. The very air he breathed
was like an elixir for me. I made every excuse to have
him near me; I asked him to my parlor — you know
about that — and — and did all I could to be with him. At
first he was gentle and kind, but soon, I think, he saw
the dawning danger in both our hearts, as I too saw it, and
he avoided me in every way he could, knowing the trouble
it held for us both. Oh ! he was the wiser — and to think
to what I have brought him. Brother, let me die for him
— I who alone am to blame ; take my life and spare him —
spare him ! He was the wiser ; but I doubt if all the wis-
dom in the world could have saved us. He almost insulted
me once in the park — told me to leave him — when it hurt
him more than me, I am now sure ; but he did it to keep
matters from growing worse between us. I tried to re-
206 When Knighthood Was In Flower
member the affront, but could not, and had he struck me I
believe I should have gone back to him sooner or later.
Oh ! it was all my fault ; I would not let him save himself.
So strong was my feeling that I could bear his silence
no longer, and one day I went to him in your bed-cham-
ber ante-room and fairly thrust myself and my love upon him.
Then, after he was liberated from Newgate, I could not
induce him to come to me, so I went to him and begged
for his love. Then I coaxed him into taking me to New
Spain, and would listen to no excuse and hear no reason.
Now lives there another man who would have taken so
much coaxing ? ' '
"No! by heaven! your majesty," said Wolsey, who
really had a kindly feeling for Brandon and would gladly
save his life, if, by so doing, he would not interfere with
any of his own plans and interests. Wolsey' s heart was
naturally kind when it cost him nothing, and much has been
related of him, which, to say the least, tells a great deal
more than the truth. Ingratitude always recoils upon the
ingrate, and Henry's loss was greater than Wolsey's when
Wolsey fell.
Henry really liked, or, rather, admired, Brandon, as had
often been shown, but his nature was incapable of real af-
fection. The highest point he ever reached was admira-
tion, often quite extravagant for a time, but usually short-
lived, as naked admiration is apt to be. If he had affec-
tion for any one it was for Mary. He could not but see
the justice of his sister's position, but he had no intention
of allowing justice, in the sense of right, to interfere with
justice in the sense of the king's will.
" You have been playing the devil at a great rate," he
said. " You have disobeyed your brother and your king;
have disgraced yourself; have probably made trouble be-
tween us and France, for if Louis refuses to take you now
I will cram you down his throat ; and by your own story
have led a good man to the block. Quite a budget of
evils for one woman to open. But I have noticed that the
trouble a woman can make is in proportion to her beauty,
and no wonder my little sister has made so much distur-
bance. It is strange, though, that he should so affect you,,
To the Tower 207
Master Wolsey, surely there has been witchery here. He
must have used it abundantly to cast such a spell over my
sister." Then turning to the princess: " Was it at any
time possible for him to have given you a love powder ; or
did he ever make any signs or passes over you?"
"Oh, no! nothing of that sort. I never ate or drank
anything which he could possibly have touched. And as
to signs and passes, I know he never made any. Sir Ed-
win, you were always present when I was with him until
after we left for Bristol ; did you ever see anything of the
sort?"
I answered "No," and she went on. "Besides, I do
not believe much in signs and passes. No one can affect
others unless he can induce them to eat or drink something
in which he has placed a love powder or potion. Then
again, Master Brandon did not want me to love him, and
surely would not have used such a method to gain what he
could have had freely without it."
I noticed that Henry's mind had wandered from what
Mary was saying, and that his eyes were fixed upon me
with a thoughtful, half vicious, inquiring stare that I did
not like. I wondered what was coming next, but my curi-
osity was more than satisfied when the king asked: " So
Caskoden was present at all your interviews?"
Ah ! Holy Mother ! I knew what was coming now,
and actually began to shrivel with fright. The king con-
tinued: " I suppose he helped you to escape?"
I thought my day had come, but Mary's wit was equal
to the occasion. With an expression on her face of the
most dove-like innocence, she quickly said :
"Oh! no! neither he nor Jane knew anything of it.
We were afraid they might divulge."
Shade of Sapphira !
A lie is a pretty good thing, too, now and then, and the
man who says that word of Mary's was not a blessed lie,
must fight me with lance, battle-ax, sword and dagger till
one or the other of us bites the dust in death, be he great
or small.
" I am glad to learn that you knew nothing of it," said
2o8 When Knighthood Was In Flower
Henry, addressing me ; and I was glad, too, for him to
learn it, you may be sure.
Then spoke Wolsey : "If your majesty will permit, I
would say that I quite agree with you ; there has been
witchery here — witchery of the most potent kind; the
witchery of lustrous eyes, of fair skin and rosy lips; the
witchery of all that is sweet and intoxicating in womanhood,
but Master Brandon has been the victim of this potent
spell, not the user of it. One look upon your sister stand-
ing there, and I know your majesty will agree that Brandon
had no chance against her."
" Perhaps you are right," returned Henry.
Then spoke Mary, all unconscious of her girlish egotism :
" Of course he had not. Master Brandon could not help
it." Which was true beyond all doubt.
Henry laughed at her naivete, and Wolsey' s lips wore a
smile, as he plucked the king by the sleeve and took him
over to the window, out of our hearing.
Mary began to weep and show signs of increasing agita-
tion.
After a short whispered conversation, the king and Wol-
sey came back and the former said: "Sister, if I promise
to give Brandon his life, will you consent decently and like
a good girl to marry Louis of France ?' '
Mary almost screamed, "Yes, yes; gladly; I will do
anything you ask," and fell at his feet hysterically em-
bracing his knees.
As the king stooped and lifted her to her feet, he kissed
her, saying: " His life shall be spared, my sweet sister."
After this, Henry felt that he had done a wonderfully
gracious act, and was the kindest-hearted prince in all
Christendom.
Poor Mary! Two mighty kings and their great min-
isters of state had at last conquered you, but they had to
strike you through your love — the vulnerable spot in every
woman
Jane and I led Mary away through a side door, and the
king called for de Longueville to finish the interrupted
game of cards.
Before the play was resumed Wolsey stepped softly
To the To wet 209
around to the king and asked ; " Shall I affix your majesty's
seal to Brandon's pardon ?"
"Yes, but keep him in the Tower until Mary is off for
France."
Wolsey had certainly been a friend to Brandon in time
of need, but, as usual, he had value received for his friend-
liness. He was an ardent advocate of the French mar-
riage, notwithstanding the fact he had told Mary he was
not; having no doubt been bribed thereto by the French
king.
The good bishop had, with the help of de Longueville,
secretly sent Mary's miniature to the French court in order
that it might, as if by accident, fall into the hands of Louis,
and that worthy's little, old, shriveled heart began to flut-
ter, just as if there could be kindled in it a genuine
flame.
Louis had sent to de Longueville, who was then in Eng-
land, for confirmation of Mary's beauty, and de Longue-
ville grew so eloquent on the theme that his French majesty
at once authorized negotiations.
As reports came in Louis grew more and more impa-
tient. This did not, however, stand in the way of his
driving a hard bargain in the matter of dower, for 4< The
Father of the People" had the characteristics of his race,
and was intensely practical as well as inflammable. They
never lose sight of the dot — but I do not find fault.
Louis little knew what thorns this lovely rose had under-
neath her velvet leaves, and what a veritable tartar she
would be, linked to the man she did not love ; or he would
have given Henry four hundred thousand crowns to keep
her at home.
H
XIX
Proserpina
So THE value received for Wolsey's friendship to Bran-
don was Mary's promise to marry Louis.
Mary wanted to send a message at once to Brandon,
telling him his life would be spared, and that she had made
no delay this time — a fact of which she was very proud —
but the Tower gates would not open until morning, so
she had to wait. She compensated herself as well as she
could by writing a letter, which I should like to give you
here, but it is too long. She told him of his pardon, but
not one word upon the theme he so wished yet feared to
hear of — her promise never to wed any other man. Mary
had not told him of her final surrender in the matter of
the French marriage, for the reason that she dreaded to
pain him, and feared he might refuse the sacrifice.
11 It will almost kill him, I know," she said to Jane that
night, u and I fear it is a false kindness I do him. He
would, probably, rather die than that I should marry an-
other ; I know that I should rather die, or have anything
else terrible to happen, than for another woman to possess
him. He promised me he never would; but suppose he
should fail in his word, as I have to-day failed in mine.
The thought of it absolutely burns me." And she threw
herself into Jane's arms, and that little comforter tried to
soothe her by making light of her fears.
" Oh I but suppose he should?"
" Well! there is no need to borrow trouble. You said
(210)
"I.e. WAS PERMITTED
TO SEE BRANDON." p. 211
Proserpina 2 1 1
he promised you, and you know he is one who keeps his
word/'
" But I promised, too, and think of what I am about to
do. Mary in heaven, help me! But he is made of dif-
ferent stuff from me. I can and do trust his word, and
when I think of all my troubles, and when it seems that I
can not bear them, the one comforting thought comes that
no other woman will ever possess him ; no other woman ;
no other woman. I am glad that my only comfort comes
from him."
"I hoped that I might have been some comfort to you;
I have tried hard enough," said Jane, who was jealous.
'* Oh! yes! my sweet Jane; you do comfort me; you
are like a soothing balm to an aching pain," and she kissed
the hands that held hers. This was all that modest little
Jane required. She was content to be an humble balm
and did not aspire to the dignity of an elixir.
The girls then said their prayers in concert and Mary
gently wept herself to sleep. She lay dreaming and toss-
ing nervously until sunrise, when she got up and added
more pages to her letter, until I called to take it.
I was on hand soon after the Tower gates had opened
and was permitted to see Brandon at once. He read
Mary's letter and acted like every other lover, since love-
letters first began. He was quick to note the absence of
the longed for, but not expected, assurance, and when he
did not see it went straight to the point.
" She has promised to marry the French king to pur-
chase my life. Is not that true?"
" I hope not," I answered evasively; " I have seen very
little of her, and she has said nothing about it."
" You are evading my question, I see. Do you know
nothing of it?"
"Nothing," I replied, telling an unnecessary lie.
"Caskoden, you are either a liar or a blockhead."
" Make it a liar, Brandon," said I, laughingly, for I was
sure of my place in his heart and knew that he meant no
offense.
I never doubt a friend ; one would better be trustful of
2i2 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
ninety-nine friends who are false, than doubtful of one
who is true. Suspicion and supersensitiveness are at once
the badge and the bane of a little soul.
I did not leave the Tower until noon, and Brandon's!
pardon had been delivered to him before I left. He was
glad that the first news of it had come from Mary.
He naturally expected his liberty at once, and when told
that he was to be honorably detained for a short time,
curned to me and said: u I suppose they are afraid to let
me out until she is off for France. King Henry flatters
me."
I looked out of the window up Tower street and said
nothing.
When I left I took a letter to Mary, which plainly told
her he had divined it all, and she wrote a tear-stained
answer, begging him to forgive her for having saved his
life at a cost greater than her own.
For several days I was kept busy carrying letters
from Greenwich to the Tower and back again, but soon
letters ceased to satisfy Mary, and she made up her mind
that she must see him. Nothing else would do. She
must not, could not, and, in short, would not go another
day without seeing him ; no, not another hour. Jane and
I opposed her all we could, but the best we could accom-
plish was to induce her for Brandon's sake — for she was
beginning to see that he was the one who had to suffer
for her indiscretions — to ask Henry's permission, and if
he refused, then try some other way. To determine was
to act with Mary, so off she went without delay to hunt
the king, taking Jane and me along as escort. How full
we were of important business, as we scurried along the
corridors, one on each side of Mary, all talking excitedly
at once. When anything was to be done, it always re-
quired three of us to do it.
We found the king, and without any prelude, Mary
proffered her request. Of course it was refused. Mary
pouted and was getting 'ready for an outburst, when
Wolsey spoke up: " With your majesty's gracious per-
mission, I would subscribe to the petition of the princess.
She has been good enough to give her promise in the mat-
Proserpina 213
ter of so much importance to us, and in so small a thing
as this I hope you may see your way clear toward favor-
ing her. The interview will be the last and may help to
make her duty easier." Mary gave the cardinal a fleeting
glance from her lustrous eyes full of surprise and grati-
tude, and as speaking as a book.
Henry looked from one to the other of us for a moment,
and broke into a boisterous laugh :
"Oh, I don't care, so that you keep it a secret. The
old king will never know. We can hurry up the marriage.
He is getting too much already ; four hundred thousand
crowns and a girl like you ; he can not complain if he have
an heir. It would be a good joke on the miserly old do-
tard, but better on ' Ce Gross Garcon.'"
Mary sprang from her chair with a cry of rage. "You
brute ! Do you think I am as vile as you because I have
the misfortune to be your sister, or that Charles Brandon
is like you simply because he is a man? " Henry laughed,
his health at that time being too good for him to be ill-na-
tured. He had all he wanted out of his sister, so her out-
bursts amused him.
Mary hurriedly left the king and walked back to her
room filled with shame and rage ; feelings actively stimu-
lated by Jane, who was equally indignant.
Henry had noticed Jane's frown, but had laughed at
her, and had tried to catch and kiss her as she left ; but she
struggled away from him and fled with a speed worthy of
the cause.
This insulting suggestion put a stop to Mary's visit to
the Tower more effectually than any refusal could have
done, and she sat down to pour forth her soul's indigna-
tion in a letter.
She remained at home then, but saw Brandon later, and
to good purpose, as I believe, although I am not sure about
it, even to this day.
I took this letter to Brandon, along with Mary's minia-
ture— the one that had been painted for Charles of Ger-
many, but had never been given — and a curl of her hair,
and it looked as if this was all he would ever possess of
her.
214 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
Be Longueville heard of Henry's brutal consent that
Mary might see Brandon, and, with a Frenchman's belief
in woman's depravity, was exceedingly anxious to keep
them apart. To this end he requested that a member of
his own retinue be placed near Brandon. To this Henry
readily consented, and there was an end to even the letter-
writing. Opportunities increase in value doubly fast as
they drift behind us, and now that the princess could not
see Brandon, or even write to him, she regretted with her
whole soul that she had not gone to the Tower when she
had permission, regardless of what any one would say or
think.
Mary was imperious and impatient, by nature, but upon
rare and urgent occasions could employ the very smooth-
est sort of finesse.
Her promise to marry Louis of France had been given
under the stress of a frantic fear for Brandon, and without
the slightest mental reservation, for it was given to save
his life, as she would have given her hands or her eyes,
her life or her very soul itself ; but now that the imminent
danger was passed she began to revolve schemes to evade
her promise and save Brandon notwithstanding. She knew
that under the present arrangement his life depended upon
her marriage, but she had never lost faith in her ability to
handle the king if she had but a little time in which to op-
erate, and had secretly regretted that she had not, in place
of flight, opened up her campaign along the line of femi-
nine diplomacy at the very beginning.
Henry was a dullard mentally, while Mary's mind was
keen and alert, — two facts of which the girl was perfectly
aware — so it was no wonder she had such confidence in her-
self. When she first heard of Brandon's sentence her fear
for him was so great, and the need for action so urgent,
that she could not resort to her usual methods for turning
matters her way, but eagerly applied the first and quickest
remedy offered. Now, however, that she had a breathing
spell, and time in which to operate her more slowly mov-
ing, but, as she thought, equally sure forces of cajolery
and persuasion, she determined to marshal the legions of
her wit and carry war into the enemy's country at
Proserpina 215
Henry's brutal selfishness in forcing upon her the French
marriage, together with his cruel condemnation of Bran-
don, and his vile insinuations against herself, had driven
nearly every spark of affection for her brother from her
heart. But she felt that she might feign an affection she
did not feel, and that what she so wanted would be cheap
at the price. Cheap ? It would be cheap at the cost of
her immortal soul. Cheap? What she wanted was life's
condensed sweets — the man she loved; and what she
wanted to escape was life's distilled bitterness — marriage
with the man she loathed. None but a pure woman can
know the torture of that. I saw this whole disastrous
campaign from start to finish. Mary began with a wide
flank movement conducted under masked batteries and
skillfully executed. She sighed over her troubles and
cried a great deal, but told the king he had been such a
dear, kind brother to her that she would gladly do anything
to please him and advance his interests. She said it would
be torture to live with that old creature, King Louis, but
she would do it willingly to help her handsome brother,
no matter how much she might suffer.
The king laughed and said : "Poor old Louis ! What
about him ? What about his suffering ? He thinks he is
making such a fine bargain, but the Lord pity him, when
he has my little sister in his side for a thorn. He had
better employ some energetic soul to prick him with nee-
dles and bodkins, for I think there is more power for dis-
turbance in this little body than in any other equal amount
of space in all the universe. You will furnish him all the
trouble he wants, won't you, sister?"
"I shall try," said the princess demurely, perfectly
willing to obey in everything.
" Devil a doubt of that, and you will succeed too, or my
crown's a stew-pan," and he laughed at the huge joke he
was about to perpetrate on his poor, old royal brother.
It would seem that the tremendous dose of flattery ad-
ministered by Mary would have been so plainly self-inter-
ested as to alarm the dullest perception, but Henry's vanity
was so dense, and his appetite for flattery so great, that he
2i6 When Knighthood Was In Flower
accepted it all without suspicion, and it made him quite
affable and gracious.
Mary kept up her show of affection and docile obedi-
ence for a week or two until she thought Henry's suspi-
cions were allayed ; and then, after having done enough
petting and fondling, as she thought, to start the earth itself
a-moving — as some men are foolish enough to say it really
does — she began the attack direct by putting her arms about
the king's neck, and piteously begging him not to sacrifice
her whole life by sending her to France.
Her pathetic soul-charged appeal might have softened
the heart of Caligula himself ; but Henry was not even
cruel. He was simply an animal so absorbed in himself
that he could not feel for others.
"Oh! it is out at last,' ' he said with a laugh. " I
thought all this sweetness must have been for something.
So the lady wants her Brandon and doesn't want her Louis,
yet is willing to obey her dear, kind brother? Well, we'll
take her at her word and let her obey. You may as well
understand, once and for all, that you are to go to France.
You promised to go decently if I would not cut off that
fellow's head, and now I tell you that if I hear another
whimper from you off it comes, and you will go to France
too."
This brought Mary to terms quickly enough. It touched
her one vulnerable spot — her love.
"I will go; I promise it again. You shall never hear
another word of complaint from me if you give me your
royal word that no harm shall come to him — to him," and
she put her hands over her face to conceal her tears as she
softly wept.
" The day you sail for France, Brandon shall go free
and shall again have his old post at court. I like the fel-
low as a good companion, and really believe you are more
to blame than he."
" I am all to blame, and am ready this day to pay the
penalty. I am at your disposal to go when and where you
choose," answered Mary most pathetically.
Poor, fair Proserpina, with no kind mother Demeter to
Proserpina 217
help her. The ground will soon open, and Pluto will have
his bride.
That evening Cavendish took me aside and said his mas-
ter, Wolsey, wished to speak to me privately at a conveni-
ent opportunity. So, when the bishop left his card-table, an
hour later, I threw myself in his way. He spoke gayly to
me, and we walked down the corridor arm in arm. I could
not imagine what was wanted, but presently it came out:
" My dear Caskoden ;" had I been one for whom he could
have had any use I should have grown suspicious. " My
dear Caskoden, I know I can trust you ; especially when
that which I have to say is for the happiness of your friends.
I am sure you will never name me in connection with the
suggestion I am about to make, and will use the thought
only as your own."
I did not know what was coming, but gave him the
strongest assurance of my trustworthiness.
"It is this: Louis of France is little better than a dead
man. King Henry, perhaps, is not fully aware of this,
and, if he is, he has never considered the probability of
his speedy death. The thought occurred to me that al-
though the princess can not dissuade her brother from this
marriage, she may be able, in view of her ready and
cheerful compliance, to extract some virtue out of her
sore necessity and induce him to promise that, in case of
the death of Louis, she herself shall choose her second
husband."
"My lord," I replied, quickly grasping the point: " It
is small wonder you rule this land. You have both brain
and heart."
" I thank you, Sir Edwin, and hope that both may always
be at the service of you and your friends."
I gave the suggestion to Mary as my own, recommend-
ing that she proffer her request to the king in the presence
of Wolsey, and, although she had little faith or hope, she
determined to try.
Within a day or two an opportunity offered, and she
said to Henry: "I am ready to go to France any time
you wish, and shall do it decently and willingly; but if I
do so much for you, brother, you might at least promise
When Knighthood "Was In Flower
me that when King Louis is dead I may marry whomso-
ever I wish. He will probably live forever, but let me
have at least that hope to give me what cheer it may while
I suffer/'
The ever-present Wolsey, who was standing near and
heard Mary's petition, interposed: u Let me add my
prayer to that of her highness. We must give her her own
way in something."
Mary was such a complete picture of wretchedness that
I thought at the time she had really found a tender spot in
Henry's heart, for he gave the promise. Since then I
have learned, as you will shortly, that it was given simply
to pacify the girl, and without any intention whatever of
being kept; but that, in case of the death of King Louis,
Henry intended again to use his sister to his own advan-
tage.
To be a beautiful princess is not to enjoy the bliss some
people imagine. The earth is apt to open at any time, and
Pluto to snatch her away to — the Lord knows where.
Mary again poured out her soul on paper — a libation in-
tended for Brandon. I had made a dozen attempts, in as
many different ways, to deliver her letters, but every effort
was a failure, and this missive met the fate of the others.
De Longueville kept close watch on his master's rival,
and complained to Henry about these attempts at com-
munication. Henry laughed and said he would see that
they were stopped, but paid no more attention to the mat-
ter.
If Mary, before her interview with Henry, had been
averse to the French marriage, she was now equally anx-
ious to hurry it on, and longed to go upon the rack in or-
der that Brandon might be free. He, of course, objected
as strenuously as possible to the purchase of his life by her
marriage to Louis, but his better judgment told him — in
fact, had told him from the first — that she would be com-
pelled eventually to marry the French king, and common
sense told him if it must be, she might as well save his life
at the same time. Furthermore, he felt a certain sense of
delight in owing his life to her, and knew that the fact that
Proserpina 219
she had saved him — that her sacrifice had not all been in
vain — would make it easier for her to bear.
The most beautiful feature of the relations between these
two lovers was their entire faith in each other. The way
of their true love was at least not roughened by cobble-
stones of doubt, however impassable it was from moun-
tains of opposition.
My inability to deliver Mary's letters did not deter her
from writing them ; and as she was to be married in a few
days — de Longueville to act as proxy — she devoted her
entire time to her letters, and wrote pages upon pages,
which she left with me to be delivered " after death," as
she called her marriage.
At this time I was called away from court for a day or
two, and when I returned and called upon Brandon at the
Tower, I found him whistling and singing, apparently
as happy as a lark. "You heartless dog," thought I,
at first ; but I soon found that he felt more than happiness
— exaltation.
" Have you seen her?" I asked.
"Who?" As if there were more than one woman in
all the world for him.
"The princess."
" Not since I left her at Bristol."
I believed then, and believe now, that this was a point
blank falsehood — a very unusual thing for Brandon — but
for some reason probably necessary in this case.
There was an expression in his face which I could not
interpret, but he wrote, as if carelessly scribbling on a scrap
of paper that lay upon the table, the words, "Be careful,"
and I took the hint — we were watched. There is an un-
pleasant sensation when one feels that he is watched by
unseen eyes, and after talking for awhile on common top-
ics I left and took a boat for Greenwich.
When I arrived at the palace and saw Mary, what was
my surprise to find her as bright and jubilant as I had left
Brandon. She, too, laughed and sang, and was so happy
that she lighted the whole room. What did it all mean ?
There was but one explanation ; they had met, and there
was some new plan on foot — with a fatal ending. The next
220 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
failure would mean death to Brandon, as certainly as the
sun rises in the east. What the plan was I could not
guess. With Brandon in the Tower under guard both
day and night, and Mary as closely guarded in the palace,
I could not see any way of escape for either of them, nor
how they could possibly have come together.
Brandon had not told me, I supposed, for fear of being
overheard, and Mary, although she had the opportunity,
was equally non-communicative, so I had recourse to Jane
upon the first occasion. She, by-the-way, was as blue
and sad-faced as Mary was joyous. I asked her if the
princess and Brandon had met, and she sadly said: u I do
not know. We went down to London yesterday, and as
we returned stopped at Bridewell House, where we found
the king and Wolsey. The princess left the room saying
she would return in a few minutes, and then Wolsey went
out, leaving me alone with the king. Mary did not return
for half an hour, and she may have seen Master Brandon
during that time. I do not understand how the meeting
could have occurred, but that is the only time she has been
away from me." Here Jane deliberately put her head
on my shoulder and began to weep piteously.
" What is the trouble ?" I asked.
She shook her head: " I can not, dare not tell you."
44 Oh! but you must, you must/' and I insisted so em-
phatically that she at length said :
44 The king!"
uThe king! God in heaven, Jane, tell me quickly."
I had noticed Henry of late casting glances at my beautiful
little Jane, and had seen him try to kiss her a few days
before, as I have told you. This annoyed me very much,
but I thought little of it, as it was his habit to ogle every
pretty face. When urged, Jane said between her sobs:
4 ' He tried to kiss me and to — mistreat me when Wolsey
left the room at Bridewell House. I may have been used
to detain him, while Mary met Master Brandon, but if so,
I am sure she knew nothing of it."
44 And what did you do?"
44 1 struggled away from him and snatched this dagger
from my breast, telling him that if he took but one step
Proserpina 221
toward me I would plunge it in my heart ; and he said I
was a fool."
"God keep you always a fool," said I prayerfully.
" How long has this been going on?"
" A month or two; but I have always been able to run
away from him. He has been growing more importunate
of late, so I bought a dagger that very day, and had it not
one hour too soon." With this she drew out a gleaming
little weapon that flashed in the rays of the candle.
This was trouble in earnest for me, and I showed it very
plainly. Then Jane timidly put her hand in mine, for the
first time in her life, and murmured :
'* We will be married, Edwin, if you wish, before we
return from France." She was glad to fly to me to save
herself from Henry, and I was glad even to be the lesser
of two evils.
As to whether my two friends met or not that day at
Bridewell I can not say ; but I think they did. They had
in some way come to an understanding that lightened
both their hearts before Mary left for France, and this
had been their only possible opportunity. Jane and I
were always taken into their confidence on other occasions,
but as to this meeting, if any there was, we have never
been told a word. My belief is that the meeting was con-
trived by Wolsey upon a solemn promise from Brandon
and Mary never to reveal it, and if so, they have sacredly
kept their word.
On the i3th of August, 1514, Mary Tudor, with her
golden hair falling over her shoulders, was married at
Greenwich to Louis de Valois ; de Longueville acting as
his French majesty's proxy. Poor, fair, Proserpina! . . .
NOTE.— Maidens only were married with their hair down. It
was " the sacred token of maidenhood." — EDITOR.
CHAPTER XX
Down Into France
So it came to pass that Mary was married unto Louis
and went down into France.
[Again the editor takes the liberty of substituting Hall's
quaint account of Mary's journey to France.]
Then when all things were redy for the conueyaunce of this noble
Ladye, the kyng her brother in the moneth of Auguste, and the x V
daye, with the quene his wife and his sayde sister and al the court
came to Douer and there taryed, for the wynde was troblous and
the wether fowle, in so muche that shippe of the kynges called the
Libeck of IXC. tonne was dryuen a shore before Sangate and there
brase & of VI C. men scantely escaped iiiC and yet the most part
of them were hurt with the wrecke. When the wether was fayre,
then al her wardrobe, stable, and riches was shipped, and such as
were appoyncted to geue their attendaunce on her as the duke of
Norfolke, the Marques of Dorset, the Bysshop of Durham, the
Earle of Surrey, the lorde Delawar, sir Thomas Bulleyn and many
other knights, Squyers, getlemen & ladies, al these went to shippe
and the sayde ladye toke her leaue of the quene in the castell of
Douer, and the king brought her to the sea syde, and kissed her,
and betoke her to GOD and the fortune of the see and to the gouern-
aunce of the French king her husband. Thus at the hower of foure
of the clock in the morenynge thys fayre ladye toke her shippe with
al her noble compaignie: and when they had sayled a quarter of the
see, the wynde rose and seuered some of the shippes to Cayles, and
some in Flaunders and her shippe with greate difficultie to Bulleyn,
and with greate ieopardy at the entrying of the hauen, for the
master ran the shippe hard on shore, but the botes were redy and
receyued this noble ladye, and at the landjng Sir Christopher
Garnysha stode in the water and toke her in his armes, and so
caryed her to land, where the Duke of Vandosme and a Cardynall
with many estates receyued her, and her ladies, and welcommed all
the noble men into the countrey, and so the quene and all her trayne
came to Bulleyn and ther rested, and from thence she remoued by
dyuerse lodgynges tyll she came all most within iii miles of Abuyl6
(222)
Down Into France 223
besyde the forrest of Arders, and ther kynge Loyes vppon a greate
courser met her, (which he so longe desired) but she toke her way
righte on, not stopping to conurse. Then he returned to Abuyle
by a secret waye, & she was with greate triumphe, procession & pag-
iantes receyued into the toune of Abuyle the VIII day of October
by the Dolphin, which receyued her with greate honor. She was
appeareilled in cloth of siluer, her horse was trapped in goldsmythes
work very rychly. After her followed xxxvi ladies al ther palfreys
trapped with crymsyn veluet, embraudered: after the folowed one
charyott of cloth of tyssue, the seconde clothe of golde and the
third Crymsyn veluet embraudered with the kynges armes & hers,
full of roses. After them folowed a greate nomber of archers and
then wagons laden with their stuf. Greate was the riches in plate,
iuels, money, and hangynges that this ladye brought into France.
The Moday beyng the daye of Sayncte Denyce, the same kynge
Leyes maried the lady Mary in the greate church of Abuyle, bothe
appareled in goldesmythes woorke. After the masse was done ther
was a greate banket and fest and the ladyes of England highly
entreteyned.
The Tewesdaye beyng the x daye of October all the Englishmen
except a fewe that wer officers with the sayde quene were discharged
whiche was a greate sorowe for theim, for some had seured her
longe in the hope of preferment and some that had honest romes
left them to serue her and now they wer out of seruice, which
caused the to take thought in so much, some dyed by way return-
ing, and some fell mad, but ther was no remedy. After the English
lordes had done ther commission the French kynge wylled the to
take no lenger payne & so gaue to theim good rewardes and they
toke ther leaue of the quene and returned.
Then the Dolphyn of Fraunce called Frauncys duke of Valoys,
or Fraunceys d'Angouleme, caused a solempne iustes to be pro-
claymed, which shoulde be kept in Parys in the moneth of Noueber
next ensuyng, and while al these thinges were prepearyng, the
LadyeMary, the V. daye of Noueber, then beying Sondaye was with
greate solempnitee crowned Queen of Fraunce in the monasterye
of Saynct Denyce, and the Lorde Dolphyn, who was young, but
very toward, al the season held the crowune ouer her hed, because
it was of greate waight, to her greuaunce.
Madame Mary took her time, since a more deliberate
journey bride never made to waiting bridegroom. She was
a study during this whole period — weeping and angry by
turns. She, who had never known a moment's illness in
all her days, took to her bed upon two occasions from
sheer antipathetic nervousness, and would rest her head
upon Jane's breast and cry out little, half-articulate prayers
to God that she might not kill the man who was her hus-
band, when they should meet.
224 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
When we met the king about a league this side of Abbe-
ville, and when Mary beheld him with the shadow of death
upon his brow, she took hope, for she knew he would be but
putty in her hands, so manifestly weak was he, mentally and
physically. As he came up she whipped her horse and
rode by him at a gallop, sending me back with word that
he must not be so ardent ; that he frightened her, poor,
timid little thing, so afraid of — nothing in the world. This
shocked the French courtiers, and one would think would
have offended Louis, but he simply grinned from ear to
ear, showing his yellow fangs, and said whimperingly:
"Oh, the game is worth the trouble. Tell her majesty I
wait at Abbeville."
The old king had ridden a horse to meet his bride in
order that he might appear more gallantly before her, but
a litter was waiting to take him back to Abbeville by a
shorter route, and they were married again in person.
[Again a quotation from Hall is substituted] :
Mondaye the .vi daye of Noueber, ther the sayde quene was re-
ceyued into the cytee of Parys after the order thar foloweth. First
the garde of the cytee met her with oute Sayncte Denyce al in coates
of goldsmythes woorke with shippes gylt, and after them mett her
al the prestes and religious whiche were estemed to be .iiiM. The
quene was in a chjre coured about (but not her ouer person) in
white clothe of golde, the horses that drewe it couered in clothe of
golde, on her hed a coronall, al of greate perles, her necke and brest
full of luels, before her wente a garde of Almaynes after ther fas-
cion, and after them al noblemen, as the Dolphyn, the Duke of Bur-
bon, Cardynalles, and a greate nomber of estates. Aboute her per-
son rode the kynge's garde the whiche wer Scottes. On the morowe
bega the iustes, and the quene stode so that al men might see her,
and wonder at her beautie, and the kynge was feble and lay on a
couche for weakenes.
So Mary was twice married to Louis, and, although she
was his queen fast and sure enough, she was not his
wife.
You may say what you will, but I like a righting woman ;
one with a touch of the savage in her when the occasion
arises ; one who can fight for what she loves as well as
against what she hates. She usually loves as she fights—-
with all her heart.
Down Into France 225
So Mary was crowned, and was now a queen, hedged
about by the tinseled divinity that hedgeth royalty.
It seemed that she was climbing higher and higher all
the time from Brandon, but in her heart every day brought
her nearer to him.
There was one thing that troubled her greatly, and all
the time. Henry had given his word that Brandon should
be liberated as soon as Mary had left the shores of Eng«
land, but we had heard nothing of this matter, although
we had received several letters from home. A doubt of
her brother, in whom she had little faith at best, made an
ache at her heart, which seemed at times likely to break
it — so she said. One night she dreamed that she had wit-
nessed Brandon's execution ; her brother standing by in
excellent humor at the prank he was playing her, and it so
worked upon her waking hours that by evening she was
ill. At last I received a letter from Brandon — which had
been delayed along the road — containing one for Mary.
It told of his full pardon and restoration to favor, greater
even than before ; and her joy was so sweet and quiet, and
yet so softly delirious, that I tell you plainly it brought
tears to my eyes and I could not hold them back.
The marriage, when once determined upon, had not cast
her down nearly so deep as I had expected, and soon she
grew to be quite cheerful and happy. This filled me with
regret, for I thought of how Brandon must suffer, and felt
that her heart was a poor, flimsy thing to take this trouble
so lightly.
I spoke to Jane about it, but she only laughed. u Mary
is all right," said she; udo not fear. Matters will turn
out better than you think, perhaps. You know she gen-
erally manages to have her own way in the end."
" If you have any comfort to give, please give it, Jane.
I feel most keenly for Brandon, heart-tied to such a will-
ful, changeable creature as Mary."
" Sir Edwin Caskoden, you need not take the trouble to
speak to me at all unless you can use language more re-
spectful concerning my mistress. The queen knows what
she is about, but it appears that you can not see it. I see
'5
226 "When Knighthood Was In Flower
it plainly enough, although no word has ever been spoken
to me on the subject. As to Brandon being tied to her, it
seems to me she is tied to him, and that he holds the reins.
He could drive her into the mouth of purgatory."
"Do you think so?"
"I know it."
I remained in thought a moment or two, and concluded
that she was right. In truth, the time had come to me
when I believed that Jane, with her good sense and acute
discernment, could not be wrong in anything, and I think
so yet. So I took comfort on faith from her, and asked :
" Do you remember what you said should happen before
we return to England?"
Jane hung her head. " I remember."
"Well?"
She then put her hand in mine and murmured, " I am
ready any time you wish."
Great heaven ! I thought I should go out of my senses.
She should have told me gradually. I had to do some-
thing to express my exultation, so I walked over to a
bronze statue of Bacchus, about my size— that is, height —
put my hat — which I had been carrying under my arm —
on his head, cut a few capers in an entirely new and equal-
ly antic step, and then drew back and knocked that Bac-
chus down. Jane thought I had gone stark mad, and her
eyes grew big with wonder, but I walked proudly back to
her after my victory over Bacchus, and reassured her — •
with a few of Mary's messages that I had still left over, ii
the truth must be told. Then we made arrangements that
resulted in our marriage next morning.
Accordingly, Queen Mary and one or two others went
with us down to a little church, where, as fortune would
have it, there was a little priest ready to join together in
the holy bonds of wedlock little Jane and little me. Ev-
erything so appropriate, you see ; I suppose in the whole
world we couldn't have found another set of conditions
so harmonious. Mary laughed and cried, and laughed
again, and clapped her hands over and over, and said
it was "like a play wedding;" and, as she kissed
Jane, quietly slipped over her head a beautiful diamond
"MARY . . . SAID, MT WAS LIKb
A PLAY WEDDING.'" />. 226
Down Into France 227
necklace that was worth full ten thousand crowns — aside,
that is, from the millions of actual value, because it came
from Mary. " A play wedding" it was ; and a play life it
has been ever since.
We were barely settled at court in Paris when Mary be-
gan to put her plans in motion and unsettle things generally.
I could not but recall Henry's sympathy toward Louis, for
the young queen soon took it upon herself to make life a
burden to the Father of his People ; and, in that particular
line, I suppose she had no equal in all the length and
breadth of Christendom.
I heartily detested King Louis, largely, I think, because
of prejudice absorbed from Mary, but he was, in fact, a
fairly good old man, and at times I could but pity him.
He was always soft in heart and softer in head, especially
where women were concerned. Take his crazy attempt to
seize the Countess of Croy while he was yet Duke of Or-
leans ; and his infatuation for the Italian woman, for whom
he built the elaborate burial vault — much it must have
comforted her. Then his marriage to dictatorial little
Anne of Brittany, for whom he had induced Pope Alex-
ander to divorce him from the poor little crippled owlet,
Joan. In consideration of this divorce he had put Caesar
Borgia, Pope Alexander's son, on his feet financially and
politically. I think he must have wanted the owlet back
again before he was done with Anne, because Anne
was a termagant — and ruled him with the heaviest rod
of iron she could lift. But this last passion — the flicker-
ing, sputtering flame of his dotage — was the worst of all,
both subjectively and objectively; both as to his senile
fondness for the English princess and her impish tor-
menting of him. From the first he evinced the most
violent delight in Mary, who repaid it by holding him off
and evading him in a manner so cool, audacious and adroit,
that it stamped her queen of all the arts feminine and de-
moniac. Pardon me, ladies, if I couple these two arts, but
you must admit they are at times somewhat akin. Soon
she eluded him so completely that for days he would not
have a glimpse of her, while she was perhaps riding, walk-
ing or coquetting with some of the court gallants, who
228 "When Knighthood "Was In Flower
aided and abetted her in every way they could. He be-
came almost frantic in pursuit of his elusive bride, and
would expostulate with her, when he could catch her, and
smile uneasily, like a man who is the victim of a practical
joke of which he does not see, or enjoy, the point. On
such occasions she would laugh in his face, then grow
angry — which was so easy for her to do — and, I grieve to
say, would sometimes almost swear at him in a manner to
make the pious, though ofttimes lax-virtued, court ladies
shudder with horror. She would at other times- make sport
of his youthful ardor, and tell him in all seriousness that it
was indecorous for him to behave so and frighten her, a
poor, timid little child, with his impetuosities. Then she
would manage to give him the slip ; and he would go
off and play a game of cards with himself, firmly convinced
in. his own feeble way that woman's nature had a tinc-
ture of the devil in it. He was the soul of conciliatory
kindness to the young vixen, but at times she would
break violently into tears, accuse him of cruelly mis-
treating her, a helpless woman and a stranger in his
court, and threaten to go home to dear old England and
tell her brother King Henry all about it, and have him put
things to right and redress her wrongs generally. In fact,
she acted the part of injured innocence so perfectly that
the poor old man would apologize for the wrongs she in-
vented, and try to coax her into a good humor. There-
upon she would weep more bitterly than ever, grow hys-
terical and require to be carried off by her women, when
recovery and composure were usually instantaneous. Of
course the court gossips soon carried stories of these quick
recoveries to the king, and, when he spoke to Mary of
them, she put on her injured air again and turned the tables
by upbraiding him for believing such calumnies about her,
who was so good to him and loved him so dearly.
I tell you it is a waste of time to fight against that as-
sumption of injured innocence — that impregnable feminine
redoubt — and when the enemy once gets fairly behind it
one might as well raise the siege. I think it the most
amusing, exasperating and successful defense and counter
attack in the whole science of war, and every woman has
Down Into France
229
it at her finger-tips, ready for immediate use upon oc-
casion.
Mary would often pout for days together and pretend
illness. Upon one occasion she kept the king waiting at
her door all morning, while she, having slipped through
the window, was riding with some of the young people in
the forest. When she returned — through the window — she
went to the door and scolded the poor old king for keeping
her waiting penned up in her room all morning. And he
apologized.
She changed the dinner hour to noon in accordance with
the English custom, and had a heavy supper at night, when
she would make the king gorge himself with unhealthful
food and coax him "to drink as much as brother
Henry," which invariably resulted in Louis de Valois find-
ing lodgment under the table. This amused the whole
court, except a few old cronies and physicians, who, of
course, were scandalized beyond measure. She took the
king on long rides with her on cold days, and would jolt him
almost to death, and freeze him until the cold tears streamed
down his poor pinched nose, making him feel like a half
animated icicle, and wish that he were one in fact.
At night she would have her balls, and keep him up till
morning drinking and dancing, or trying to dance, with
her, until his poor old heels, and his head, too, for that
matter, were like to fall off ; then she would slip away from
him and lock herself in her room. December, say I, let
May alone ; she certainly will kill you. Despite which
sound advice, I doubt not December will go on coveting
May up to the end of the chapter ; each old fellow — being
such a fine man for his age, you understand — fondly be-
lieving himself an exception. Age in a fool is damnable.
Mary was killing Louis as certainly and deliberately as
if she were feeding him slow poison. He was very weak
and decrepit at best, being compelled frequently, upon
public occasions, such, for example, as the coronation
tournament of which I have spoken, to lie upon a couch.
Mary's conduct was really cruel; but then, remember
her provocation and that she was acting in self-defense.
All this was easier for her than you might suppose, for the
230 "When Knighthood Was In Flower
king's grasp of power, never very strong, was begin-
ning to relax even what little grip it had. All faces
were turned toward the rising sun, young Francis, duke
of Angouleme, the king's distant cousin, who would
soon be king in Louis's place. As this young rising sun,
himself vastly smitten with Mary, openly encouraged her
in what she did, the courtiers of course followed suit, and
the old king found himself surrounded by a court only too
ready to be amused by his lively young queen at his ex-
pense.
This condition of affairs Mary welcomed with her whole
soul, and to accent it and nail assurance, I fear, played
ever so lightly and coyly upon the heart-strings of the young
duke, which responded all too loudly to her velvet touch,
and almost frightened her to death with their volume of
sound later on. This Francis d' Angouleme, the dauphin,
had fallen desperately in love with Mary at first sight, an
effect against which the fact that he was married to Claude,
daughter of Louis, in no way militated. He was a very
distant relative of Louis, going away back to St. Louis for
his heirship to the French crown. The king had daugh-
ters in plenty, but as you know, the gallant Frenchmen say,
according to their Law Salic: " The realm of France is
so great and glorious a heritage that it may not be taken
by a woman." Too great and glorious to be taken by a
woman, forsooth ! France would have been vastly better
off had she been governed by a woman now and then, for
a country always prospers under a queen.
Francis had for many years lived at court as the rec-
ognized heir, and as the custom was, called his distant
cousin Louis, " Uncle." " Uncle " Louis in turn called
Francis u Ce Gross Garcon" and Queen Mary called him
" Monsieur, mon beau Jils" in a mock-motherly manner
that was very laughable. A mother of eighteen to a "good
boy" of twenty-two! Dangerous relationship! And dan-
gerous, indeed, it would have been for Mary, had she not
been as pure and true as she was willful and impetuous.
"Mon beau fils" allowed neither his wTife nor the respect
he owed the king to stand in the way of his very marked
attention to the queen. His position as heir, and his long
Down Into France 231
residence at court, almost as son to Louis, gave him ample
opportunities for pressing his unseemly suit. He was the
first to see Mary at the meeting place this side of Abbe-
ville, and was the king's representative on all occasions.
" Beau fils" was quite a handsome fellow, but thought
himself vastly handsomer than he was; and had some
talents, which he was likewise careful to estimate at their
full value, to say the least. He was quite well liked by
women, and in turn considered himself irresistible. He
was very impressionable to feminine charms, was at heart
a libertine, and, as he grew older, became a debauchee
whose memory will taint France for centuries to come.
Mary saw his weakness more clearly than his wicked-
ness, being blinded to the latter by the veil of her own
innocence. She laughed at, and with him, and permitted
herself a great deal of his company; so much, in fact,
that I grew a little jealous for Brandon's sake, and, if the
truth must be told, for the first time began to have doubts
of her. I seriously feared that when Louis should die,
Brandon might find a much more dangerous rival in the
new king, who, although married, would probably try to
keep Mary at his court, even should he be driven to the
extreme of divorcing Claude, as Claude's father had
divorced Joan.
I believed, in case Mary should voluntarily prove false
and remain in France, either as the wife or mistress of
Francis, that Brandon would quietly but surely contrive
some means to take her life, and I hoped he would. I
spoke to my wife, Jane, about the queen's conduct, and
she finally admitted that she did not like it, so I, unable to
remain silent any longer, determined to put Mary on her
guard, and for that purpose spoke very freely to her on
the subject.
II Oh! you goose!" she said laughingly. "He is al-
most as great a fool as Henry." Then the tears came to
her eyes, and half angrily, half hysterically shaking me
by the arm she continued: "Do you not know? Can
you not see that I would give this hand, or my eyes, al-
most my life, just to fall upon my face in front of Charles
Brandon at this moment ? Do you not know that a woman
232 When Knighthood Was In Flower
with a love in her heart such as I have for him is safe from
every one and everything? That it is her sheet anchor,
sure and fast ? Have you not wit enough to know that?"
"Yes, I have," I responded, for the time completely
silenced. With her favorite tactics, she had, as usual, put
me in the wrong, though I soon came again to the attack.
44 But he is so base that I grieve to see you with him."
" I suppose he is not very good," she responded,
"but it seems to be the way of these people among
whom I have fallen, and he can not harm me."
1 'Oh! but he can. One does not go near small-pox,
and there is a moral contagion quite as dangerous, if not
so perceptible, and equally to be avoided. It must be a
wonderfully healthy moral nature, pure and chaste to the
core, that will be entirely contagion-proof and safe from
it."
She hung her head in thought, and then lifted her eyes
appealingly to me. "Am I not that, Edwin? Tell me!
Tell me frankly ; am I not ? It is the one thing of good I
have always striven for. I am so full of other faults that
if I have not that there is no good in me." Her eyes and
voice were full of tears, and I knew in my heart that I stood
before as pure a soul as ever came from the hand of God.
"You are, your majesty; never doubt," I answered.
"It is pre-eminently the one thing in womanhood to which
all mankind kneels." And I fell upon my knee and kissed
her hand with a sense of reverence, faith and trust that has
never left me from that day to this. As to my estimate
of how Francis would act when Louis should die, you will
see that I was right.
Not long after this Lady Caskoden and I were given
permission to return to England, and immediately pre-
pared for our homeward journey.
Ah ! it was pretty to see Jane bustling about, making
ready for our departure — superintending the packing of our
boxes and also superintending me. That was her great
task. I never was so thankful for riches as when they en-
abled me to allow Jane full sway among the Paris shops.
But at last, all the fine things being packed, and Mary
having kissed us both — mind you, both — we got our little
Down Into France 233
retinue together and out we went, through St. Denis, then
ho ! for dear old England.
As we left, Mary placed in my hands a letter for Bran-
don, whose bulk was so reassuring that I knew he had
never been out of her thoughts. I looked at the letter a
moment and said, in all seriousness: " Your majesty, had
I not better provide an extra box for it?"
She gave a nervous little laugh, and the tears filled
her eyes, as she whispered huskily: UI fancy there is
one who will not think it too large. Good-bye! good-
bye!" So we left Mary, fair, sweet girl-queen, all alone
among those terrible strangers ; alone with one little En-
glish maiden, seven years of age — Anne Boleyn.
CHAPTER XXI
Letters from a Queen
UPON our return to England I left Jane down in Suffolk
with her uncle, Lord Bolingbroke, having determined
never to permit her to come within sight of King Henry
again, if I could prevent it. I then went up to London
with the twofold purpose of seeing Brandon and resign-
ing my place as Master of the Dance.
When I presented myself to the king and told him of
my marriage, he flew into a great passion because we had
not asked his consent. One of his whims was that every-
one must ask his permission to do anything; to eat, or
sleep, or say one's prayers; especially to marry, if the
lady was of a degree entitled to be a king's ward. Jane,
fortunately, had no estate, the king's father having stolen
it from her when she was an infant ; so all the king could
do about our marriage was to grumble, which I let him do
to his heart's content.
"I wish also to thank your majesty for the thousand
kindnesses you have shown me," I said, " and, although
it grieves me to the heart to separate from you, circum-
stances compel me to tender my resignation as your Mas-
ter of Dance." Upon this he was kind enough to express
regret, and ask me to reconsider; but I stood my ground
firmly, and then and there ended my official relations with
Henry Tudor forever.
Upon taking my leave of the king I sought for Brandon,
whom I found comfortably ensconced in our old quarters,
he preferring them to much more pretentious apartments
offered him in another part of the palace. The king had
(234)
Letters from a Queen 235
given him some new furnishings for them, and as I was to
remain a few days to attend to some matters of business,
he invited me to share his comfort with him, and I gladly
did so.
Those few days with Brandon were my farewell to in-
dividuality. Thereafter I was to be so mysteriously in-
termingled with Jane that I was only a part — and a small
part at that I fear — of two. I did not, of course, regret
the change, since it was the one thing in life I most longed
for, yet the period was tinged with a faint sentiment of
pathos at parting from the old life that had been so kind
to me, and which I was leaving forever. I say I did not
regret it, and though I was leaving my old haunts and com-
panions and friends so dear to me, I was finding them all
again in Jane, who was friend as well as wife.
Mary's letter was in one of my boxes which had been
delayed, and Jane was to forward it to me when it should
come. When I told Brandon of it, I dwelt with emphasis
upon its bulk, and he, of course, was delighted, and im-
patient to have it. I had put the letter in the box, but
there was something else which Mary had sent to him that
I had carried with me. It was a sum of money sufficient
to pay the debt against his father's estate, and in addition,
to buy some large tracts of land adjoining. Brandon did
not hesitate to accept the money, and seemed glad that it
had come from Mary, she, doubtless, being the only per-
son from whom he would have taken it.
One of Brandon's sisters had married a rich merchant at
Ipswich, and another was soon to marry a Scotch gentle-
man. The brother would probably never marry, so Bran-
don would eventually have to take charge of the estates.
In fact, he afterwards lived there many years, and as Jane
and I had purchased a little estate near by, which had
been generously added to by Jane's uncle, we saw a great
deal of him. But I am getting ahead of my story again.
The d'Angouleme complication troubled me greatly,
notwithstanding my faith in Mary, and although I had re-
solved to say nothing to Brandon about it, I soon told him
plainly what I thought and feared.
He replied with a low, contented little laugh.
236 When Knighthood Was In Flower
" Do not fear for Mary, I do not. That young fellow is
of different stuff, I know, than the old king, but I have all
faith in her purity and ability to take care of herself. Be-
fore she left she promised to be true to me, whatever
befell, and I trust her entirely. I am not so unhappy by
any means as one would expect. Am I?" And I was
compelled to admit that he certainly was not.
So it seems they had met, as Jane and I suspected, but
how Mary managed it I am sure I can not tell ; she beat
the very deuce for having her own way, by hook or by
crook. Then came the bulky letter, which Brandon
pounced upon and eagerly devoured. I leave out most
of the sentimental passages, which, like effervescent wine,
lose flavor quickly. She said — in part :
* ' To Master Brandon ;
"Sm AND DEAR FRIEND, GREETING — After leaving
thee, long time had I that mighty grief and dole within my
heart that it was like to break; for my separation from
thee was so much harder to bear even than I had taken
thought of, and I also doubted me that I could live in
Paris, as I did wish. Sleep rested not upon my weary
eyes, and of a very deed could I neither eat nor drink,
since food distasted me like a nausea, and wine did strangle
in my throat. This lasted through my journey hither, which
I did prolong upon many pretexts, nearly two months, but
when I did at last rest mine eyes for the first time upon this
King Louis's face, I well knew that I could rule him, and
when I did arrive, and had adjusted myself in this Paris, I
found it so easy that my heart leaped for very joy. Beauty
goeth so far with this inflammable people that easily do I
rule them all, and truly doth a servile subject make a sharp,
capricious tyrant. Thereby the misfortune which hath
come upon us is of so much less evil, and is so like to be
of such short duration, that I am almost happy — but for
lack of thee — and sometimes think that after all it may
verily be a blessing unseen.
"This new, unexpected face upon our trouble hath so
driven the old gnawing ache out of my heart that I love to
be alone, and dream, open-eyed, of the time, of a surety
Letters from a Queen 237
not far off, when I shall be with thee. ... It is ofttimes
sore hard for me, who have never waited, to have to wait,
like a patient Griselda, which of a truth I am not, for this
which I do so want ; but I try to make myself content with
the thought that full sure it will not be for long, and that
when this tedious time hath spent itself, we shall look back
upon it as a very soul-school, and shall rather joy that we
did not purchase our heaven too cheaply.
UI said I find it easy to live here as I wish, and did
begin to tell thee how it was, when I ran off into tell-
ing of how I long for thee; so I will try again. This
Louis, to begin with, is but the veriest shadow of a man,
of whom thou needst have not one jealous thought. He
is on a bed of sickness most of the time, of his own accord,
and if, perchance, he be but fairly well a day or so, I do
straightway make him ill again in one way or another, and,
please God, hope to wear him out entirely ere long time.
Of a deed, brother Henry was right ; better had it been
for Louis to have married a human devil than me, for
it maketh a very one out of me if mine eyes but rest
upon him, and thou knowest full well what kind of a devil
I make — brother Henry knoweth, at any rate. For all
this do I grieve, but have no remedy, nor want one. I
sometimes do almost compassionate the old king, but I can
not forbear, for he turneth my very blood to biting gall,
and must e'en take the consequences of his own folly.
Truly is he wild for love of me, this poor old man, and the
more I hold him at a distance the more he fondly dotes.
I do verily believe he would try to stand upon his foolish old
head, did I but insist. I sometimes have a thought to
make him try it. He doeth enough that is senseless and ab-
surd, in all conscience, as it is. At all of this do the court-
iers smile, and laugh, and put me forward to other pranks;
that is, all but a few of the elders, who shake their heads,
but dare do nothing else for fear of the dauphin, who will
soon be king, and who stands first in urging and abetting
me. So it is easy for me to do what I wish, and above all
to leave undone that which I wish not, for I do easily rule
them all, as good Sir Edwin and dear Jane will verify. I
have a ball every night, wherein I do make a deal of
238 When Knighthood Was In Flower
amusement for every one by dancing La Volta with his
majesty until his heels, and his poor old head, too, are like
to fall off. Others importune me for those dances, espe-
cially the dauphin, but I laugh and shake my head and say
that I will dance with no one but the king, because he
dances so well. This pleases his majesty mightily, and
maketh an opening for me to avoid the touch of other men,
for I am jealous of myself for thy sake, and save and gar-
ner every little touch for thee .... Sir Edwin will tell you
I dance with no one else and surely never will. You remem-
ber well, I doubt not, when thou first did teach me this new
dance. Ah ! how delightful it was ! and yet how at first it
did frighten and anger me. Thou canst not know how my
heart beat during all the time of that first dance. I thought,
of a surety, it would burst ; and then the wild thrill of fright-
ened ecstasy that made my blood run like fire ! I knew it
must be wrong, for it was, in truth, too sweet a thing to
be right. And then I grew angry at thee as the cause of
my wrong-doing and scolded thee, and repented it, as usu-
al. Truly didst thou conquer, not win me. Then after-
wards, withal it so frightened me, how I longed to dance
again, and could in no way stay myself from asking. At
times could I hardly wait till evening fell, and when upon
occasion thou didst not come, I was so angry I said I
hated thee. What must thou have thought of me, so for-
ward and bold ! And that afternoon ! Ah ! I think of it
every hour, and see and hear it all, and live it o'er and
o'er, as it sweeter grows with memory's ripening touch.
Some moments there are, that send their glad ripple down
through life's stream to the verge of the grave, and truly
blest is one who can smile upon and kiss these memory
waveSj and draw from thence a bliss that never fails. But
thou knowest full well my heart, and I need not tease thee
with its outpourings.
'* There is yet another matter of which I wish to write
in very earnestness. Sir Edwin spoke to me thereof, and
what he said hath given me serious thought. I thank him
for his words, of which he will tell thee in full if thou but
importune him thereto. It is this : the Dauphin, Francis
d'Angouleme, hath fallen desperately fond of me, and is
Letters from a Queen 239
quite as importunate, and almost as foolish as the elder lover.
This people, in this strange land of France, have, in sooth,
some curious notions. For an example thereto: no one
thinks to find anything unseeming in the dauphin's con-
duct, by reason of his having already a wife, and more,
that wife the Princess Claude, daughter to the king. I laugh
at him and let him say what he will, for in truth I am pow-
erless to prevent it. Words can not scar even a rose leaf,
and will not harm me. Then, by his help and example I
am justified in the eyes of the court in that I so treat the
king, which otherwise it were impossible for me to do and
live here. So, however much I may loathe them, yet am I
driven to tolerate his words, which I turn off with a laugh,
making sure, thou mayest know, that it come to nothing
more than words. And thus it is, however much I wish
it not, that I do use him to help me treat the king as I like,
and do then use the poor old king as my buckler against
this duke's too great familiarity. But my friend, when the
king comes to die then will I have my fears of this young
Francis d'Angouleme. He is desperate for me, and I
know not to what length he might go. The king can not
live long, as the thread of his life is like rotten flax, and
when he dies thou must come without delay, since I will
be in deadly peril. I have a messenger waiting at all hours
ready to send to thee upon a moment's notice, and when
he comes waste not a precious instant; it may mean all to
thee and me. I could write on and on forever, but it would
be only to tell thee o'er and o'er that my heart is full of
thee to overflowing. I thank thee that thou hast never
doubted me, and will see that thou hast hereafter only good
cause for better faith. MARY, Regina."
" Regina!" That was all. Only a queen! Surely no
one could charge Brandon with possessing too modest
tastes.
It was, I think, during the second week in December that
I gave this letter to Brandon, and about a fortnight later
there came to him a messenger from Paris, bringing
another from Mary, as follows :
240 When Knighthood "Was In Flower
*' Master Charles Brandon:
" SIR AND DEAR FRIEND, GREETING — I have but time
to write that the king is so ill he can not but die ere
morning. Thou knowest that which I last wrote to
thee, and in addition thereto I would say that although I
have, as thou likewise knowest, my brother's permission
to marry whom I wish, yet as I have his one consent it is
safer that we act upon that rather than be so scrupulous
as to ask for another. So it were better that thou take me
to wife upon the old one, rather than risk the necessity of
having to do it without any. I say no more, but come
with all the speed thou knowest. MARY."
It is needless to say that Brandon started in haste for
Paris. He left court for the ostensible purpose of paying
me a visit and came to Ipswich, whence we sailed.
The French king was dead before Mary's message reached
London, and when we arrived at Paris, Francis I reigned
on the throne of his father-in-law. I had guessed only too
accurately. As soon as the restraint of the old king's pres-
ence, light as it had been, was removed, the young king
opened his attack upon Mary in dreadful earnest. He begged
and pleaded and swore his love, which was surely mani-
fest enough, and within three days after the old king's death
offered to divorce Claude and make Mary his queen.
When she refused this flattering offer his surprise was
genuine.
u Do you know what you refuse ?" he asked in a temper.
* ' I offer to make you my wife — queen of fifteen millions
of the greatest subjects on earth — and are you such a fool
as to refuse a gift like that, and a man like me for a hus-
band?"
"That I am, your majesty, and with a good grace. I
am Queen of France without your help, and care not so
much as one penny for the honor. It is greater to be a
princess of England. As for this love you avow, I would
make so bold as to suggest that you have a good, true wife
to whom you would do well to give it all. To me it is
nothing, even were you a thousand times the king you are0
Letters from a Queen 241
My heart is another's, and I have my brother's permission
to marry him."
" Another's? God's soul ! Tell me who this fellow is
that I may spit him on my sword."
4 'No! no! you would not; even were you as valiant
and grand as you think yourself, you would be but a child
in his hands."
Francis was furious, and had Mary's apartments guarded
to prevent her escape, swearing he would have his way.
As soon as Brandon arrived in Paris we took private
lodgings, and well it was that we did. I at once went out
to reconnoiter, and found the widowed queen a prisoner in
the old palace des Tournelles. With the help of Queen
Claude I secretly obtained an interview, and learned the
true state of affairs.
Had Brandon been recognized and his mission known in
Paris, he would certainly have been assassinated by order
of Francis.
When I saw the whole situation, with Mary nothing less
than a prisoner in the palace, I was ready to give up with-
out a struggle, but not so Mary. Her brain was worth
having, so fertile was it in expedients, and while I was
ready to despair, she was only getting herself in good
fighting order.
After Mary's refusal of Francis, and after he had learned
that the sacrifice of Claude would not help him, he grew
desperate, and determined to keep the English girl in his
court at any price and by any means. So he hit upon the
scheme of marrying her to his weak-minded cousin, the
Count of Savoy. To that end he sent a hurried embassy
to Henry VIII, offering, in case of the Savoy marriage, to
pay back Mary's dower of four hundred thousand crowns.
He offered to help Henry in the matter of the imperial
crown in case of Maximilian's death — a help much greater
than any King Louis could have given. He also offered to
confirm Henry in all his French possessions, and to relin-
quish all claims of his own thereto — all as the price of one
eighteen-year-old girl. Do you wonder she had an exalted
estimate of her own value ?
16
242 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
As to Henry, it, of course, need not be said, that half
the price offered would have bought him to break an
oath made upon the true cross itself. The promise he had
made to Mary, broken in intent before it was given, stood
not for one instant in the way of the French king's wishes ;
and Henry, with a promptitude begotten of greed, was as
hasty in sending an embassy to accept the offer as Francis
had been to make it. It mattered not to him what new
torture he put upon his sister; the price, I believe, was
sufficient to have induced him to cut off her head with his
own hands.
If Francis and Henry were quick in their movements,
Mary was quicker. Her plan was made in the twinkling
of an eye. Immediately upon seeing me at the palace she
sent for Queen Claude, with whom she had become fast
friends, and told her all she knew. She did not know
of the scheme for the Savoy marriage, though Queen
Claude did, and fully explained it to Mary. Naturally
enough, Claude would be glad to get Mary as far away
from France and her husband as possible, and was only too
willing to lend a helping hand to our purpose, or Mary's,
rather, for she was the leader.
We quickly agreed among ourselves that Mary and
Queen Claude should within an hour go out in Claude's
new coach for the ostensible purpose of hearing mass.
Brandon and I were to go to the same little chapel in
which Jane and I had been married, where Mary said the
little priest could administer the sacrament of marriage and
perform the ceremony as well as if he were thrice as
large.
I hurriedly found Brandon and repaired to the little
chapel where we waited a very long time, we thought.
At last the two queens entered as if to make their devo-
tions. As soon as Brandon and Mary caught sight of
each other, Queen Claude and I began to examine the
shrines and decipher the Latin inscriptions. If these two
had not married soon they would have been the death of
me. I was compelled at length to remind them that time
was very precious just at that juncture, whereupon Mary,
who was half laughing, half crying, lifted her hands to her
Letters from a Queen 243
hair and let it fall in all its lustrous wealth down over her
shoulders. When Brandon saw this, he fell upon his knee
and kissed the hem of her gown, and she, stooping over
him, raised him to his feet and placed her hand in his.
Thus Mary was married to the man to save whose life
she had four months before married the French king.
She and Queen Claude had forgotten nothing, and all
arrangements were completed for the flight. A messen-
ger had been dispatched two hours before with an order
from Queen Claude that a ship should be waiting at Dieppe,
ready to sail immediately upon our arrival.
After the ceremony Claude quickly bound up Mary's
hair, and the queens departed from the chapel in their
coach. We soon followed, meeting them again at St.
Denis gate, where we found the best of horses and four
sturdy men awaiting us. The messenger to Dieppe who
had preceded us would arrange for relays, and as Mary,
according to her wont when she had another to rely upon,
had taken the opportunity to become thoroughly fright-
ened, no time was lost. We made these forty leagues in
less than twenty-four hours from the time of starting;
having paused only for a short rest at a little town near
Rouen, which city we carefully passed around.
We had little fear of being overtaken at the rate we were
riding, but Mary said she supposed the wind would die
down for a month immediately upon our arrival at Dieppe.
Fortunately no one pursued us, thanks to Queen Claude,
who had spread the report that Mary was ill, and for-
tunately, also, much to Mary's surprise and delight, when
we arrived at Dieppe, as fair a wind as a sailor's heart
could wish was blowing right up the channel. It was a
part of the system of relays — horses, ship, and wind.
1 'When the very wind blows for our especial use, we
may surely dismiss fear," said Mary, laughing and clapping
her hands, but nearly ready for tears, notwithstanding.
The ship was a fine new one, well fitted to breast any
sea, and learning this, we at once agreed that upon land-
ing in England, Mary and I should go to London and win
over the king if possible. We felt some confidence in be-
ing able to do this, as we counted upon Wolsey's help,
244 Wnen Knighthood Was In Flower
but in case of failure we still had our plans. Brandon
was to take the ship to a certain island off the Suffolk coast
and there await us the period of a year if need be, as Mary
might, in case of Henry's obstinacy, be detained ; then re-
victual and re-man the ship and out through the North Sea
for their former haven, New Spain.
In case of Henry's consent, how they were to live in a
style fit for a princess, Brandon did not know, unless
Henry should open his heart and provide for them — a
doubtful contingency upon which they did not base much
hope. At a pinch, they might go down into Suffolk and
live next to Jane and me on Brandon's estates. To this
Mary readily agreed, and said it was what she wanted
above all else.
There was one thing now in favor of the king's acquies-
cence : during the last three months Brandon had become
very necessary to his amusement, and amusement was his
greatest need and aim in life.
Mary and I went down to London to see the king, hav-
ing landed at Southampton for the purpose of throwing off
the scent any one who might seek the ship. The king was
delighted to see his sister, and kissed her over and over
again.
Mary had as hard a game to play as ever fell to the lot
of woman, but she was equal to the. emergency if any
woman ever was. She did not give Henry the slightest
hint that she knew anything of the Count of Savoy episode,
but calmly assumed that of course her brother had meant
literally what he said when he made the promise as to the
second marriage.
The king soon asked: " But what are you doing here?
They have hardly buried Louis as yet, have they?"
"I am sure I do not know," answered Mary, "and I
certainly care less. I married him only during his life,
and not for one moment afterwards, so I came away and
left them to bury him or keep him, as they choose ; I care
not which."
11 But — " began Henry, when Mary interrupted him,
saying: tl I will tell you — "
I had taken good care that Wolsey should be present at
Letters from a Queen 245
this interview; so we four, the king, Wolsey, Mary and
myself, quietly stepped into a little alcove away from the
others, and prepared to listen to Mary's tale, which was
told with all her dramatic eloquence and feminine persua-
siveness. She told of the ignoble insults of Francis, of
his vile proposals — insisted upon, almost to the point of
force^-carefully concealing, however, the offer to divorce
Claude and make her queen, which proposition might have
had its attractions for Henry. She told of her imprison-
ment in the palace des Tournelles, and of her deadly peril
and many indignities, and the tale lost nothing in the tell-
ing. Then she finished by throwing her arms around
Henry's neck in a passionate flood of tears and begging
him to protect her — to save her ! save her I save her 1 his
little sister.
It was all such perfect acting that for the time I forgot it
was acting, and a great lump swelled up in my throat. It
was, however, only for the instant, and when Mary, whose
face was hidden from all the others, on Henry's breast,
smiled slyly at me from the midst of her tears and sobs,
I burst into a laugh that was like to have spoiled everything.
Hemy turned quickly upon me, and I tried to cover it by
pretending that I was sobbing. Wolsey helped me out by
putting a corner of his gown to his eyes, when Henry, seeing
us all so affected, began to catch the fever and swell with in-
dignation. He put Mary away from him, and striding up
and down the room exclaimed, in a voice that all could hear,
*4 The dog! the dog! to treat my sister so. My sister!
My father's daughter! My sister! The first princess of
England and queen of France for his mistress ! By every
god that ever breathed, I'll chastise this scurvy cur until
he howls again. I swear it by my crown, if it cost me my
kingdom," and so on until words failed him. But see
how he kept his oath, and see how he and Francis hob-
nobbed not long afterward at the Field of the Cloth of
Gold.
Henry came back to Mary and began to question her,
when she repeated the story for him. Then it was she told
of my timely arrival, and how, in order to escape and pro-
24$ "When Knighthood Was In Flower
tect herself from Francis, she had been compelled to marry
Brandon and flee with us.
She said, "I so wanted to come home to England and
be married where my dear brother could give me away,
but I was in such mortal dread of Francis, and there was
no other means of escape, so — "
. " God's death! If I had but one other sister like you, I
swear before heaven I'd have myself hanged. Married
to Brandon? Fool! idiot! what do you mean? Married
to Brandon! Jesu! You'll drive me mad! Just one
other like you in England, and the whole damned king-
dom might sink ; I'd have none of it. Married to Bran-
don without my consent!"
"No! no! brother," answered Mary softly, leaning
affectionately against his bulky form ; u do you suppose
I would do that? Now don't be unkind to me when I
have been away from you so long ! You gave your con-
sent four months ago. Do you not remember? You
know I would never have done it otherwise."
u Yes, I know ! You would not do anything— you did
not want ; and it seems equally certain that in the end you
always manage to do everything you do want. Hell and
furies!"
" Why! brother, I will leave it to my Lord Bishop of
York if you did not promise me that day, in this very
room, and almost on this very spot, that if I would
marry Louis of France I might marry whomsoever I wished
when he should die. Of course you knew, after what I
had said, whom I should choose, so I went to a little church
in company with Queen Claude, and took my hair down
and married him, and I am his wife, and no power on
earth can make it otherwise," and she looked up into his
face with a defiant little pout, as much as to say, l ' Now,
what are you going to do about it?
Henry looked at her in surprise and then burst out
laughing. " Married to Brandon with your hair down?"
And he roared again, holding his sides. "Well, you do
beat the devil ; there's no denying that. Poor old Louis !
That was a good joke on him. I'll stake my crown he
Letters from a Queen 247
was glad to die! You kept it warm enough for him, I
make no doubt."
" Well," said Mary, with a little shrug of her shoulders,
" he would marry me."
u Yes, and now poor Brandon doesn't know the trouble
ahead of him, either. He has my pity, by Jove I "
"Oh! that is different," returned Mary, and her eyes
burned softly, and her whole person fairly radiated, so ex-
pressive was she of the fact that " it was different."
Different? Yes; as light from darkness ; as love from
loathing ; as heaven from the other place ; as Brandon
from Louis ; and that tells it all.
Henry turned to Wolsey : " Have you ever heard any-
biing equal to it, my Lord Bishop? "
My Lord Bishop, of course, never had; nothing that
even approached it.
44 What are we to do about it," continued Henry, still
addressing Wolsey.
The bishop assumed a thoughtful expression, as if to
appear deliberate in so great a matter, and said: 4t I see
but one thing that can be done," and then he threw in a
few soft, oily words upon the troubled waters that made
Mary wish she had never called him " thou butcher's cur,"
and Henry, after a pause, asked: u Where is Brandon?
He is a good fellow, after all, and what we can't help we
must endure. He'll find punishment enough in you. Tell
him to come home — I suppose you have him hid around
some place — and we'll try to do something for him."
" What will you do for him, brother? " said Mary, not
wanting to give the king's friendly impulse time to weaken.
44 Oh! don't bother about that now," but she held him
fast by the hand and would not let go.
44 Well, what do you want? Out with it. I suppose I
might as well give it up easily, you will have it sooner or
later. Out with it and be done."
44 Could you make him Duke of Suffolk? "
44 Eh? I suppose so. What say you, my Lord of
York?"
York was willing — thought it would be just the thing.
_" So be it then," said Henry. 44 Now I am going out
348 When Knighthood "Was In Flowe*
to hunt and will not listen to another word. You will coax
me out of my kingdom for that fellow yet." He was
about to leave the room when he turned to Mary, saying :
" By the way, sister, can you have Brandon here by Sun-
day next? I am to have a joust."
Mary thought she could, .... and the great event was
accomplished.
One false word, one false syllable, one false tone would
have spoiled it all, had not Mary — but I fear you are
weary with hearing so much of Mary.
So after all, Mary, though a queen, came portionless to
Brandon. He got the title, but never received the estates
of Suffolk ; all he received with her was the money I car-
ried to him from France. Nevertheless, Brandon thought
himself the richest man in all the earth, and surely he was
one of the happiest. Such a woman as Mary is danger-
ous, except in a state of complete subjection — but she was
bound hand and foot in the silken meshes of her own
weaving, and her power for bliss-making was almost infi-
nite.
And now it was, as all who read may know, that this
fair, sweet, willful Mary dropped out of history ; a sure
token that her heart was her husband's throne; her soul
his empire ; her every wish his subject, and her will, so
masterful with others, the meek and lowly servant of her
strong but gentle lord and master, Charles Brandon, Duke
of Suffolk.
Note by the Editor
SIB EDWIN CASKODEN'S history differs in some minor details from other
authorities of the time. Hall's chronicle says Sir William Brandon, father
of Charles, had the honor of being killed by the hand of Richard III himself,
at Bosworth Field, and the points wherein his account of Charles Brandon's
life differs from that of Sir Edwin may be gathered from the index to the 1548
edition of that work, which is as follows:
GHABLES BKANDON, ESQUIRE,
Is made knight,
Created Vicount Lysle,
Made duke of Suffolke,
Goeth to Paris to the lustes,
Doeth valiantly there,
Returneth into England,
He is sent into Fraunce to fetch home the French quene into England,
He maryeth her,
and so on until
" He dyeth and is buryed at Wyndesore."
No mention is made in any of the chronicles of the office of Master of
Dance. In all other essential respects Sir Edwin is corroborated by his con*
temporaries.
(249)
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TABLE OF CONTENTS.
All Golden, The.
An Impetuous Resolve.
At Aunty's House.
Babe Herrick.
Babyhood.
Baby's Dying.
Billy Goodin.
Boy-Friend, The.
Boy Lives on Our Farm, The.
Boys, The.
Boy's Candidate, The.
Boy's Mother, A.
Bumble-Bee, The.
Busch and Tommy.
Child's Home Long Ago, A.
Christine Braibry.
Circus-Day Parade, The.
Cradle Song.
Curly Locks.
Days Gone By, The.
Down Around the River.
Dream of the Little Princess.
Dwainie — A Sprite Song.
Envoy.
Fish ing Party, The.
Funniest Thing in the World, The.
Funny Little Fellow, The.
Grandfather Squeers.
Granny's Come to Our House.
Guineypigs.
Happy Little Cripple.
Hattio on Her Birthday.
He Called Her In.
Home-made Fairy Tale. A.
Houoy Dripping from the Comb.
Hunter Boy.
In Swimmin'-time.
In the Night.
John Tarkington Jameson.
Jolly Miller.
Land of Thus and So, The.
Land of Used-to-Be.
Lawyer and Child.
Life Lesson, A.
Little Coat, The.
Little Girly-girl.
Little Johnts's Christmas.
Little Mahala Ashcraft.
Little Orphant Annie.
Little Red Apple Tree.
Little Tiny Kickshaw.
Longfellow's Love for the Children.
Lost Kiss, The.
Lugubrious Whing- whang.
Mabel.
Man in the Moon, The.
Max and Jim.
Mother Goose.
Mother — Song, A.
Naughty Claude.
' Nine Little Goblins, The.
Nonsense Rhyme, A.
Old Hay-mow, The.
Old Man's Nursery Rhyme.
Old, Old Wish, The.
Old Tramp, The.
On the Sunny Side.
Our Hired GirL
Pansies.
Passing Hail, A.
Pet Coon, Ihe.
Pixy People, The.
Prayer Perfect, The.
Preacher's Boy, The.
Prior to Miss Belle's Appearance.
Prospective Glimpse, A.
Raggedy Man, The.
Rider of the Knee.
Robbins' Other Name, The.
Runaway Boy, The.
She"Displains"It.
Sleeping Beauty, A.
Song of Yesterday.
South Wind and the Sun, The.
Sprite Serenade.
Squirtgun Undo Makod Me, The.
Stepmother, The.
Sudden Shower, A.
That-air Young-un.
Time of Clearer Twitterings, The
Uncle Sidney.
Uncle Sidney's Views.
Waiting fer the Cat to Die.
Way the Baby Slept, The.
When Early March Seems May.
When Our Baby Died.
When the Frost is on the Punkin.
When the World Bu'sts Through.
Whitherways, The.
Winter Fancies.
With the Current.
Who Santa Glaus Wus.
Youthful Press, The.
RHYMES OF CniLD HOOD, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, will be sent
postpaid to any address on receipt of $1.25.
Address THE BOWEN-MERRiLJL CO.. Indianaoolis.
PIPES 0' PAN
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
Five sketches and fifty poems. The sketches are separated by four books of
twelve poems each with frontispiece. 12mo cloth, half calf and full morocco.
The following sketches and poems are in this volume :
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
An Old Played-out Song.
An Old Settler's Story.
An Old Sweetheart.
At Broad Ripple.
At Noon— And Midnight.
Babyhood.
Bat, The.
Days Gone By.
Dear Hands.
Doc Sifers.
Dos't o' Blues, A.
Down Around the Hirer.
Drum, The.
Gilded Roll, The.
Has She Forgotten.
His Mother.
How it Happened.
In Bohemia.
In the Dark.
In the South.
Kissing the Rod.
Kneeling With Herrick.
Leave-Taking, A.
Legend Glorified, The.
Little Tiny Kickshaw.
Long Afore He Knowed.
Lost Path, Tho.
Lullaby.
Martha Ellen.
Moon Drowned.
Mrs. Miller.
Old Home by the Mill, The.
Old Man's Nursery Rhyme.
Pipes o' Pan.
Rain, The.
Romancin'.
Step-Mother, The.
This Man Jones.
Three Dead Friends.
Tom Johnson's Quit*
To My Good Master.
Tree Toad, The.
Wait for the Morning.
Way it Was, The.
Wet-Weather Talk.
When June is Here.
When Old Jack Died.
When Shall We Land.
When the Green Gets Back.
Whur Mother Is.
Wild Irishman, The.
Worn Out Pencil, A.
His work in prose is really exquisite, though comparatively few are acquainted
with it. Here is the conclusion of one of his tales, published in the " Pipes o' Pan
at Zekesbury." It is as simply natural as fact, as delicate as truth. It is at onca
so probable and so artistic that no one would venture to guess whether the write*
created the incident or whether the incident created the tale. Here it is :
" Well, Annie had just stooped to lift up one o' the little girls when the feller
turned, and the'r eyes met. ' Annie, my wife I ' he says : and Annie, she kind o' gave
a little yelp like, and come a flutterin' down in his arms, and the jug of wortcr
rolled clean acrost the road, and turned a somerset and knocked the cob out of its
mouth, and jist laid back and hollered ' good-good-good-good-good I ' like ef it
knowed what was up, and was jist ae glad and tickled as the rest o/ us."— Omaha
World-Herald.
PIPES o' PAN, by JAMES WH4TCOMB RILEY, will be sent to «U
address postpaid on receipt of $1.25.
Address THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO., Indianapolis.
ARMAZINDY
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
Contains some of Mr. Riley's latest and best dialect and serious work, includ-
ing "Armazindy" and the famous Poe Poem. 12mo cloth, uniform with his other
books, also in half calf and full morocco.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
| Albumania.
' Armazindy.
Barefoot Boy, A.
Blind Girl, The.
Charms— For Corns.
Circus Parade, The.
Dolores.
Dreamer, Say.
Empty Glove, An.
Envoy.
Eros.
Few of the Bird Family, A.
Folks at Lonesomeville.
For This Christmas.
Frog, The.
Good-Bye, A.
Great Explorer, The.
He and I.
Home-Made Riddles.
How Did You Rest, Last Night 1
Idyl of the King, An.
Jargon-Jingle.
King of the Oo-Rinktum-Jing, The.
Leonaine.
Dittle Dog-Woggie, The.
Little Mock-Man, The.
Little David.
Little Red Ribbon, The.
Lovely Child, The.
Muskingum Valley, The.
My Bride That Is To Be.
My Henry, f
My Mary, t
Natural Perversities.
Noon Lull. A. v
Old School-Chum, The.
Old-Timer, An.
01dTrundle-Bed,The. N
Orlie Wilde.
Our Own.
Out of the Hitherwhere.
Ponchus Pilut.
Poor Man's Wealth, A.
Rabbit in the Cross-Ties.
Ringworm Frank.
School-Boy's Favorite, The.
Serenade— To Nora.
Silent Victors, The.
Slumber Song.
Song I Never Sing, The,
Summer-Time and Winter-Time.
This Dear Child-Hearted Woman.
Three Jolly Hunters, The.
Three Singing Friends.
Through Sleepy-Land.
To a Jilted Swain.
To a Poet-Critic.
To Edgar Wilson Nye.
To Remove Freckles.
Toy Penny-Dog, The.
Trestle and the Buck-Saw, The.
Twiggs and Tudens.
Twintorette, A.
Up and Down Old Brandywine.
Voices, The.
We Defer Things.
What Redress.
When I Do Mock.
When Lide Married Him.
When Mamie Married.
Windy Day, A.
Writin' Back to the Home-Folks.
Yellow-Bird, The.
Youthful Patriot, The.
" Mr. Riley's new book of poems, 'Armazindy,' includes verses in dialect and
verses in straight English, verses to touch the heart and verses to tickle the ribs,
verses of homely sentiment, and nonsense verses which are truly reckless and alto-
gether delightful. 'Armazindy' is a characteristic poem in the Hoosier dialect, and
there are some seventy other poems and one prose sketch written after the style of
Dickens."— Current History.
ARMAZINDY, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, will be sent to any
address, postpaid, on receipt of $1.25.
Address THE BOWEN-MI RRILL CO., Indianapolis.
GREEN FIELDS AND RUNNING BROOKS
Bi JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
One hundred and two Poems and Sonnets, dialect humorous and serious. 12ma
cloth, half calf and morocco.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Proem.
Artemus of Michigan, The.
As My Uncle Used to Say.
At Utter Loaf.
August.
Autumn.
Bedouin.
Being His Mother.
Blind.
Blossoms on the Trees, The.
By Any Other Name.
By Her White Bed.
Chant of the Cross-Bearing Child, The.
Country Pathway, A.
Cup of Tea, A.
Curse of the Wandering Foot, The.
Cyclone, The.
Dan Paine.
Dawn, Noon andDewfall.
Discouraging' Model, A.
Ditty of No Tone, A.
Don Piatt of Mac-o-chee.
Dot Leedle Boy.
Dream of Autumn, A.
Elizabeth.
Envoy.
Farmer Whipple— Bachelor.
Full Harvest, A.
Glimpse of Pan, A.
Go, Winter.
Her Beautiful Eyes.
Hereafter, The.
His Mother's Way.
His Vigil.
Home at Night.
Home-Going, The.
Hoodoo, The.
Hoosier Folk-Child, The.
How John Quit the Farm*
Iron Horse, The.
Iry and Billy and Jo.
Jack the Giant-Killer.
Jap Miller,
John Alden and Percilly.
John Brown.
John McKeen.
Judith.
June at Woodruff.
Just to be Good.
Last Night— And This.
Let Us Forget.
Little Fat Doctor, The.
Longfellow.
Lounger, A.
Monument For the Soldiers, A.
Mr. What's-His-Name.
My Friend,
Nessmuk.
North and South.
Old Retired Sea Captain, The.
Old Winters on the Farm.
Old Year and the New, The.
On the Banks o' Deer Crick.
Out of Nazareth.
Passing of A Heart, The.
Plaint Human, The.
Quarrel, The.
Quiet Lodger, The.
Reach Your Hand to Me.
Right Here at Home
Rival, The.
Rivals, The ; or the Showman's Ruse,
Robert Burns Wilson.
Rose, The.
September Dark.
Shoemaker, The.
Singer, The.
Sister Jones's Confession.
Some 'Scattering Remarks of Bub's.
Song of Long Ago, A.
Southern Singer, A.
Suspense.
Thanksgiving.
Their Sweet Sorrow.
Them Flowers.
To an Importunate Ghost*
To Hear Her Sing.
Tom Van Arden.
To the Serenader.
Tugg Martin.
Twins, The.
Wandering Jew, The. __
Watches of the Night, The.
Water Color, A.
We to Sigh Instead of Sing.
What Chris'mas fetched the Wiggiases*
When Age Conies On,
Where-Away.
While the Musician Played. ,
Wife-Blessed, The. .
Wraith of Summertime, A,
GBEBN FIELDS AND Humana BBOOKS, by JAMES WHITCOMB RI-
LEY, will be sent to any address, postpaid, on receipt of
Address THE BONYEN-MERRILl CO., ladiaaapof"?
tA NEWKOOK OF SKETCHES, HUMOROUS AND PATHETIC.
BY ROBERT J. 'BURDETTE
BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE
The many thousand admirers of the genial, whole-
souled Burdette, who have heard him on the platform
during the past few years, will be pleased to get some of
his best work in this permanent book form.
The volume contains several chapters of a delightful
travesty on the old Kollo books, "Hollo at Work,"
"Bollo at Play," etc.; also a number of other sketches
written in Burdette's happiest vein, and closing with
the poem, " Cantistopthis."
Beautifully illustrated and bound in uniform style
with Bill Nye's "A Guest at the Ludlow."
Crown 8vo, gilt top, price postpaid, $1.25.
.
INDIANAPOLIS, IND., U. S. A.
2>emarcbu$ N
(L ^Brown's
Selections from 3Luctan
A Book for Studious Men and Women
Translated by Professor DEMARCHUS C,
BROWN, of Butler College. i6mo, cloth,
uncut, gilt top, price, $1.25 postpaid.
" The modern writers to whom Lucian is
compared are Swift and Voltaire. Swift, in
fact, is a sort of rebirth of Lucian.
"Though living so long after the classic
period of Attic Greek, it is remarkable how
Lucian keeps the spirit of Attic prose. His
style is delightful, always graceful, never
turgid. It is a rare thing to find an author
not ' to the manner born ' who has mastered
language as Lucian has his Greek." — Extract
from Author's Preface.
"The dialogues are admirably translated.
The language is so true to the thought and
yet so easily adapted to modern ideas that
the reader, Greek student or not, will be
deeply interested in it and grateful to the
translator. The mechanical work of the
book is tasteful and beautiful."— The Butler
Collegian* f
THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO.
INDIANAPOLIS
at
BY EDGAR WILSON NYE
£BILL NYE]
Go, little booklet, go!—
Bearing an honored
name,
'Till everywhere that yon
have went,
They're glad that you
have came.
A volume of humor-
ous stories and sketch-
es, with twenty-one
full page and twelve
smaller designs, the
latter by the author.
By arrangement with
Mrs. Edgar W. Nye,
The Bowen-Merrill Co.
announce a volume of
humorous stories by
BUI Nye (Edgar Wit
son Nye) , prepared for
publication by him
during the last months
of his life, entitled
«A GUEST AT THE
LUDLOW"
AND OTHER STOEIES.
It is printed, bound
and illustrated in a
style surpassing any-
thing heretofore is-
sued of Mr. Nye's in
book form, and con-
taining the famous hu-
morist's best and most
finished work. Twenty-
eight stories and num
erous illustrations, in-
eluding the author's introduction in fac-simile. It is the hand*
eomest copyrighted book published this season for the price, $1.25*
Beat postpaid to any address on receipt of the price.
MB BOWIEN-MERRIU CO.. Publishers, Indianapolis T " '
TKHorfes of
5ames TKHbttcomb
A Child-World. English Edition.
Tne English edition of A CHILD-WORLD
is printed on hand-made paper and daintily
bound in blue and vellum-white, uniform with
OLD FASHIONED ROSES. i6mo cloth, gilt
top, untrimmed, $2.00.
" The American poet, Mr. James Whitcomb
Riley, never seeks to go so high up Parnassus
as to be lost to the view of the common people
who walk by the wayside, and his new book,
A CHILD- WORLD, is true to his established
manner and choice of things to write about.
* * * The homely feelings of love for one's
fireside, one's own friends, and the .children
in one's own circle never got a more effec-
tive, although it may sometimes have had a
more intense or elevated, expression in poetry
than it does here; and the book deserves to be
widely read on both sides of the Atlantic." —
The Scotsman, Edinburg.
" His knowledge of children is wonderful,
and a delight all through the volume. Every
rhymed tale in it will give pleasure to parents,
and will afford material for profitable study.
We have long been of opinion that psychology
is a science which none but a poetic mind is
capable of expounding, for no other has the
breadth and insight, the readiness to receive
a flash without attempting to classify it,
which should be brought to the study of the
infinite in human nature." — Parent1 s Review^
London.
THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO.
INDIANAPOLIS
Urent Hffafr
A History of It
By THOMAS L. HARRIS. Including a re-
view of the English and American Relations
at the Beginning of the Civil War. Crown
8vo, 288 pages, cloth, ornamental cover, $1.50
postpaid.
Gen. Lew Wallace, the famous author of
Ben Hur, makes the following comment :
" Mr. Thomas L. Harris's book, The Trent
Affair, has been an agreeable surprise as well
as a pleasure to me. It seems the beginning
of that line of volumes fair in treatment, well
studied and scholarly, which the student of
American history has promised himself as
an outgrowth of the great rebellion. To all
of us there come periods in which wTe are dis-
posed to listen to the cousining of the British,
believe in their fair play, and dream of a con-
federacy of all the English speaking peoples.
The disillusion lying between the lids of works
like The Trent Affair is more than perfect ;
it is apt to swing us far over to the opposite
extremes. If one desires to see and know the
real feeling of the governing class of Great
Britain toward us, he has only to consult this
expos6 from the hand of Mr. Harris."— LEW
WALLACE.
THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. >
INDIANAPOLIS
By MARTHA ANN KRAG and FLORENCE
KRAG REYNOLDS. Illustrated by VIRGINIA
HYNSON KEEP. Square 4to (in a box),
price, $2.00 postpaid.
A little child in white behind a large book
labeled "Martha-Jane," its feet sticking out
from underneath, its hands and head peeping
from over the top, is the central figure of the
frontispiece of one of the unique child's books
of the year. There will be unnumbered chil-
dren in that same attitude for many days to
come, for this book, decidely one of the most
interesting of child's books, seems destined
to outlast the present holiday season. The
book adds something new to child literature,
alike in form and substance. Here is a bit
of the substance, called " Baby Reigns " :
linger marks on Father's book,
Taffy on his chair.
All that Father said was " L,ook,
Baby put them there."
Often Father lingers,
Baby pulls his hair,
Kisses Baby's fingers ;
Says he doesn't care.
A distinctive characteristic of the book is
that it is a black and white creation. The
leaves or plates, a dozen in number, are heavy
and black, representing slates. On them the
text and illustrations are done in white.
The authors, Mrs. Reynolds and her mother
Mrs. Krag, are widely known socially. The
artist, Miss Keep, who is now in the Ne^ir
York Art League, is a most promising pupil."
•—Indianapolis News.
THE BOWEK-MERRILL CO.
INDIANAPOLIS ~
Life and Work of Susan B.Anthony
By IDA HUSTED HARPER
THE LIFE AND WORK OF SUSAN B. ANTHONY
is far more than the story of one woman's life,
even though that woman is the most interesting
personality of the century. It is a history of
the great evolution in the status of woman, in
which she has been the central figure. It pic-
tures the struggle to secure the right for woman
to speak in public ; first in behalf of the slave,
then in the interest of temperance, and at last
for herself, to obtain laws that should protect
her in the possession of her property, her per-
son and her children.
t There have been also the long- continued
efforts for equal educational advantages and
equal industrial opportunities; and last, and
longest of all, the attempt to secure the citizen's
right to vote.
In all of these battles Miss Anthony has been
the general who led the forces and went herself
where the fight was the hardest. It is the story
of one who has been persecuted as no other
woman, and who has come out victorious.
o
Major, Charles
2359 When knighthood was in
M648W4 flower
1399
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