Chapter I

GUY MANTON was lounging in the parlour after dinner on a warm April day, six months later, wondering what he could do with himself.

Hampton Court was terribly dull. The household had moved down there before Easter, for the Queen's confinement, public prayers and processions had been ordered for her safe delivery, doctors were in attendance to help her, and couriers to bear the joyful news to town; and yet she delayed to fulfil her part. And meanwhile her household had to wait.

Guy was becoming very much bored by the whole affair of the Court. He had nothing to do of any importance; his interview with the Cardinal had ended in words, though he had been a little interested by the personality of Monsignor Priuli, the prelate's friend and chaplain; and the events of the winter, the concerts and masques at Christmas, the visits of Elizabeth and Courtenay, and the coming of the foreign princes, had not served to compensate him for his sense of uselessness.

As regarded his attitude to the Queen, he knew very well how he stood. She was a tiresome, shrewish, self-centred, disappointing woman, with neither wit nor tenderness. There was a certain pathos about her, but of the contemptible sort; she had the smallness that one desires to trample, not to help. Intellectually, he knew her to be pitiable; her circumstances seemed

The Queen's Tragedy harder than flesh and blood could bear; but, emotionally, he was only affected by her with a kind of resentment. He knew himself disillusioned of his dreams, and with disillusionment had come hardness: he did not care greatly whether he went or stayed.

For the present, however, he was holding on to his position; there was no knowing what might not happen if a child were born to Mary; and his fellowship had been filled up at Gonville College. He yearned for brisk movement.

He felt half-inclined now to fetch a Greek author and read in him for a little; but he had given up his classics for eight months, and had lost his taste for them. Besides, it was not reading but action that he wanted. So he sat in the window-seat with his legs spread abroad, and yawned out at the empty sunlit court and the rows of solemn windows opposite.

He saw Jack coming across presently and called to him. Jack nodded abruptly, and presently strode in with a very dark look on his face. He banged the door and took up his position on the hearth.

" That damned monkey of a misbegotten Spaniard has been at his tricks again. Have you heard the tale? "

" Which? " said Guy.

" Of my Lady Magdalene."

" I have not."

" Well, listen to this then," growled Jack with a very sour look in his eyes. " You know her room with the window opening on to the gallery? "

" Well? "

" My lady was dressing there this morning, and the foolish child had the window open. His Highness comes along to mass, and spies her. He scarce knows enough English yet to make love in it — her Grace has not taught

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better him yet; but there is one tongue that all understand. So his highness pushes the window wider, and puts in his black hand to take my lady's bare arm."

" Well? "

" Well! " cried Jack. " And is not that enough? So my lady answers him in the same tongue, turns scarlet, and cracks him across the fingers with her staff. She has spirit, thank God."

" It is only one more of them," drawled Guy, hoping to make him angry. " Her Grace is generous."

Jack growled and held his tongue.

" And how have you prospered with my lady? "

Jack sighed.

" She listens to my singing and my talk and goes her way heart-whole."

Guy yawned and stood up.

" Ride with me, Jack," he said. " I shall go mad if this goes on."

" It is her Grace's fault," observed the other. " It is she and her blessed child who hold us here. Delivery or death is our only hope."

" And you think she does not know about His Highness and his loves? " asked Guy curiously.

" She wills not to know," said Jack decisively, " she dares not ask, and none dare tell her."

A little snort of contempt broke from Guy.

" Was there ever such a woman? " he cried. " She lies here a-burning heretics — not that I blame her for that "

" Ah! do her justice," said Jack, " it is not she but this damned Don who has revived the statutes; all the world knows that."

" I do not care who has done it. I tell you I approve."

Jack looked at him narrowly.

" You have changed, sir," he said, " as you promised

The Queen's Tragedy you would. Do you remember the woman at Cheapside? "

Guy sniffed contemptuously.

" I was a poor fool then," he said, " but I have learnt something. Oh! Jack, will any work come my way? It is not amusing to watch this cold woman upstairs waiting for her baby, and her hot husband down below doing his best "

" Exactly," said Jack. " Well, I do not know. Let us ride. You may have a chance at Oxford, if you wish to go a-burning."

There was plenty to talk about as the two rode under the green trees of Richmond Park over last year's leaves, scattering the deer that fled before the jingle of the bridle-chains or at the vision of the two green and gold figures coming noiselessly round the corner of a ride.

Jack, drumming his heels as he rode, on his side bewailed more than once his ill-success with Magdalene; he had never been in such hot love, he said; and the girl treated him like a Court-fool, listening, laughing and going her way, with her head as high above other women's, as was her beauty above theirs. The Court was prudish beyond belief, he declared; it had not been so in jolly Henry's days; but all the ladies seemed infected with the revolting coldness of their mistress. He had never been so treated before.

Guy listened with the same tolerant contempt as that with which he had watched the affair. Only yesterday he had observed the two through a hedge. Jack had come upon the girl in the privy-garden, and had attitudinised, made speeches and rolled his eyes as usual. Magdalene had been very proper and upright. Jack had declaimed; she had dissented. Jack had prepared to drop on his knees, and she had gone away. Bah!

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better

What nonsense, Guy had murmured to himself. He could not understand such folly. For himself he asked nothing more than occupation in some business that was worth doing. He vowed he would rebel, if he thought there were any interest in that; but there was not; there was no interest anywhere. He had been better off over his books at Cambridge.

" But it is of no use," he burst out finally, as they turned at last homewards from under the trees, and came in sight of the London road; " it is of no use; I am here and must make the best of it; but, by the mass, if I have a chance "

Jack was not attending. He had halted his horse and was looking out under an arched hand at something which was approaching them at an angle.

A patch of brambles rose in front of them, and writhed up a thorn-tree on the right; beyond this the bracken pushed up its delicious green to meet the low hanging boughs of the beeches, and beyond lay the blue distance seen through a vista of straight tree-trunks.

There was a sound of hoofs from the direction of Kingston Bridge far away on the right, and it was towards the direction of the sound that Jack was staring.

" What is it? " asked Guy peevishly.

Jack gave him no answer; the thud on the turf was coming nearer every moment. The next instant Jack flapped his reins and cried out; and the two beasts plunged forward, snorting over the tangled ground. But they were too late, and while they were yet forty yards from the road, a courier in blue and silver had passed at a gallop, his head low and his knees high, paying no attention to the shouting gentlemen, and had vanished in a fountain of flying turfs round the corner of the tall fern.

The Queen's Tragedy

Jack was cursing softly to himself as he stared after the man.

" What is it? " said Guy again.

" How should I know? " snapped Jack, and put his horse to the test towards Kingston Bridge.

They rode home in almost complete silence, but each knew what was in the heart of the other. It might be on life or death that the fellow rode to town — with the news that England had gained a prince or had lost a queen. Mary had not been seen in public since St. George's Day.

There was a delay at the bridge owing to a breakdown there of a Royal waggon; and it was more than half-an-hour before they dismounted at the stables. Jack flung himself out of the saddle and disappeared. Guy asked a question or two, but the grooms had heard nothing; and he was a little reassured. Probably the message had been of a private nature.

He went upstairs to dress for supper; Jack was nowhere to be seen, and Guy came down to the parlour a little later, supposing that he had been alarmed without cause. The parlour was empty and he sat down to wait.

It was a dark little room looking out on to the inner court, and communicated by two staircases in the lobby outside with the gallery where his own rooms were situated, and that which led to the Queen's chambers.

He heard someone presently outside on the stairs, but did not trouble to turn his head even when the latch was suddenly lifted. He supposed it was Jack or possibly Tom come to tell him that supper was ready.

Then he heard a stifled exclamation and sprang up.

Old Mistress Clarentia stood there in her white cap and dark dress, looking at him with such an expression that for a moment he feared that the Queen was indeed dead.

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better

Her face was convulsed by some excitement, and her old hands were clasped desperately before her.

" Master Manton!" shesaid. "Isittrue? Ishegone?"

" I do not know what you mean, Mistress. What is the matter? "

She pushed the door to behind her, and came forward a step.

" The courier, sir. Is he gone? And with false news! Where are all the gentlemen? "

" We saw a man in her Grace's livery in Richmond Park — ' began Guy, bewildered.

" And you did not stop him, sir! You must send after him, Master Manton. You must not wait till the morning. It is false! " she cried.

" You must explain, Mistress. What is all this? "

She threw out her hands desperately.

" Why, sir, he is gone to take the news that a prince is born. It is false."

Guy sprang forward.

" It is false, you say! Is her Grace dead then? "

»"Dead! No, sir; God forbid. But it is false. There is no prince, nor ever will be."

She gave a great sob, and stood looking at him with her eyes full of tears.

" And there will be bell-ringing to-morrow. And my poor lamb! "

She turned swiftly towards the door.

" Shall I send, mistress? "

She turned again.

" Yes, Master Manton. Send at once. I can find none of the gentlemen."

Then she was gone again, and Guy stood for a moment dazed with the shock. Then he dashed out of the room towards the stables, nearly upsetting Jack who stood rocking with laughter in the lobby.

The Queen's Tragedy

A fortnight later Guy had his first private sight of the Queen since her interview with him in the previous November.

It was now half-way through May; and all hopes of a child, except within the Queen's own bed-chamber, had long ceased. Mrs. Clarentia's courier had not arrived in time in London to prevent the tragic bell-ringing that she feared. Te Deums had been sung; there had been wild scenes in the streets, brawls and shoutings, and all had given way to the laughter of the many, and the sorrow of the few when the tidings were contradicted.

It seemed to Guy abominable that no one had the courage to tell the truth to the Queen. All except herself knew now that it was a shocking disease that had deluded her, and that she could bear no child. He swore to Jack Norris that her women ought to be ashamed of themselves, and that if an opportunity was given to him he at least would not fail to be brave.

Then his opportunity came.

He was in the very act of bragging about it in the parlour an hour before dinner-time one morning.

He and Jack Norris had been talking about the wretched young man who had claimed to be no less a person than Edward the Sixth, supposed to be deceased; and who had attempted to raise followers against the Queen. He had been brought to Hampton Court three or four days before for examination, and had been sent off again to prison.

" I wonder there are not a hundred such," said Guy bitterly. " Any stick will serve against the Queen."

" Now a prince " began Jack.

" A prince! there will never be a prince. Elizabeth will be queen, and you and I will be sent a-packing or

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better a-hanging. It is a foul shame that not a woman will tell the Queen."

" Now if you were one of her women " sneered the other.

Guy faced him smartly.

" If I were one of her women, or even could see her for a minute, I swear by God she should know the truth."

" I hear that she has made baby-clothes," chuckled Jack.

There was a tap, and a page looked in.

" Mistress Dormer wishes to see you, sir, immediately, in the Queen's gallery. And will you bring Master Homer's Iliad? Is that right, sir? "

Jack gave a sudden bark of laughter.

" There, sir," he said. " Now we shall see."

Guy looked from one to the other with a fallen jaw. Then his lips snapped together.

" I shall do it," he said. " Tell Mistress Dormer I will be with her in five minutes."

Jack threw himself into a chair as the page went out.

" Now, Master Manton," he said. " Prosper e precede I Thank God I know no Greek! "

Guy's mouth worked a little, as he stood irresolute. Then he turned and left the room.

In less than five minutes he came out into the Queen's gallery with his brown hair newly combed, his short white silk cloak buckled with silver at the throat, and Master Homer's Iliad under his arm. Mistress Dormer faced about as he came in, and then walked towards him with rather a perturbed air. Her fair cheeks looked pale and a little fallen, and her eyes had dark rings round them as if with long watching.

" Her Grace wishes to read with you, sir," she began.

The Queen's Tragedy

" She stirred an hour ago, and asked if you were in the palace."

Guy bowed, but he did not feel so easy as he looked.

" You understand, Master Manton," went on the other. " Her Grace must not be excited or troubled. You will speak low, will you not? "

She glanced at his embroidered shoes.

" Those are noiseless, are they not? " she said.

" Yes, Mistress Dormer. Will her Grace talk to me? "

" Oh! she can talk a little, but not too much. She has hardly spoken for a week till to-day."

The girl turned to go, but Guy was at her side, and touched her on the arm.

" Mistress," he said, " Mistress. You must tell me. Does her Grace know that she will bear no child? "

Jane's eyes filled with tears, and her lips began to tremble. She shook her head. Then something in the young man's face startled her.

" I think she may guess it," she said hurriedly, " but she may not be told. Do not speak of it at all, Master Manton."

She hesitated yet a moment, looking at him; and then lifted the latch of the door.

The two went softly across the ante-chamber; and the page that stood by it laid his hand on the curtain over the further door.

" She is here," whispered Jane. " Walk softly, sir."

Guy felt a qualm of physical sickness seize him, as Jane's hands were laid on the latch with infinite precaution. He knew he was as white as paper, and bit his lower lip furiously to bring back sensation. Then he followed the girl through the doorway.

For a moment he saw little, as the low square room was partly darkened; but between the shutters of one

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better of the windows on his left came a glare of refracted sunshine and the song of birds from the privy-garden beneath. A great bed stood opposite him, with tumbled sheets and pillows seen between the half drawn curtains; and for a moment he stared at this, thinking that the Queen was there.

As he stood hesitating whether to kneel, the door closed almost noiselessly behind him, and Jane came swiftly past and across the floor towards the dark corner between the closed window and the bed.

Then he saw the girl drop on her knees beside a shapeless thing that crouched in the corner in a pile of pillows. For an instant he could not make out what this was; then he understood, and fell on his knees.

As he looked, and Jane whispered, a white face lifted itself from the dark heap and stared across at him. Then he saw Jane beckon; and rose and came across the floor, horribly frightened and bewildered.

He stood hesitatingly, looking down at the heap on the floor, and as his eyes became accustomed to the twilight his horror deepened. Mary had her eyes downcast now; her chin rested on her knees as she sat crouched among the pillows, and her hands seemed clasped round them with a rug thrown over all. But her face was the terrible sight. It was enormously swollen; her eyelids were sunken in dark pools of skin; her lips had vanished, pinched and bitten together, and showed only a thin downturned line for her mouth. She wore some kind of kerchief tied beneath her chin so as to hide her hair, and her forehead showed beneath it wrinkled and creased with pain. It was the more repulsive in the half-light of the room.

Jane who was still whispering, now looked up and spoke in a thin sibilant voice.

" Bring up the table and chair, Master Manton, and

The Queen's Tragedy read aloud softly. Her Grace wishes you to read a little of the third book in Greek, and then to English it."

He went on tip-toe to the end of the bed, brought across the table and chair and set them a couple of yards away from the Queen. Then he sat down and turned the pages of his heavy book till he found the place. But his hands trembled so much that he fumbled as he turned, and he looked up desperately once or twice at the sharp crackle.

Then he began to read.

He could not imagine why the Queen had chosen this. It was a description of the Trojans going to battle like a flock of screaming birds. And surely this pitiable bedchamber. Then as he reached the fifteenth line he remembered, and understood; then again he wondered whether he were not mistaken in his interpretation. It was the story of Paris, with his leopard-skin and bow over his divine form, lording it in the front rank of the Trojans, till he saw the man whom he had wronged. Was it conceivable that the sick brain saw some fantastic type here of her own prince and her own sorrows?

He read on fifty lines or so, his voice becoming steadier as the sounding Greek inspired it; then he turned back once more, and began to read fluently in English.

It was a relief to him when he reached the end, and began again in Greek. He could think better when the exercise was more mechanical. As he read, he began better to take in the situation.

The Queen's face had dropped again upon her knees, and there was only a huddled figure to be seen. Close beside knelt Mistress Dormer, sitting back on her heels, motionless except for her eyes that rose now to the reader, and sank again to her mistress. There was a sensation of pain in the air; the room was soaked in it; the tumbled bed-clothes behind him, the faint smell of

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better drugs, the darkness of the room, mocked by the vivid dusty bar of light between the shutters, and the summer song of birds — all suggested to this healthy sturdy man some impression of what the past weeks must have been within here; while without Philip hunted and swore and drank and made love to other women; and the pensioners laughed in their parlour over the fantastic fond creature upstairs.

A kind of angry pity touched his heart for the first time now for many months; but he still resented while he perceived the pathos of it all. What folly it all was — and yet how piteous! Then he remembered his determination to tell the truth to this poor Queen; and with the memory came the knowledge of its impossibility. Strong out-of-doors resolutions became hopelessly coarse and futile in this soft thin atmosphere of a woman's pain. He saw now why she had not been told before; it was infinitely better that she should have one solace however false, and gradually, as she grew stronger, correct her own ignorance.

He was so much absorbed in the tragedy that he read aloud far beyond what he had intended.

Then came a violent shock. A man's voice, that cracked into falsetto like a growing boy's, came from the heap on the floor.

" English it, Master Manton."

The white swollen face looked up for an instant and down again, as he stopped in the middle of a word, and snatched at the pages.

Then again with a shaking voice he began to translate.

He reached the end and paused, and again the Queen spoke.

" I thank you, Master Manton."

Guy did not like to move without further instructions; but he closed the book softly on his finger. " I cannot

The Queen's Tragedy bear more to-day, sir," went on Mary very slowly; " but it has done me good. My needle-work, sweetheart."

Jane fumbled in the heap of stuffs beside her and drew out a piece; and as Guy stood up he saw that it was embroidered all over with golden pomegranates; then he recognised the design; it was the symbol of the Queen who had been Mary's mother. No doubt she was finishing her mother's work. But how terrible! And where were the baby-clothes?

" Wait, Master Manton," said the voice again. " The needle, my love."

She took a painful stitch or two, and Guy, as he stood with that same physical repulsion creeping over him again, saw her shrunken ringless hand and the bones that stood out in clear white lines on the back.

Then she paused.

" I can do nothing, Master Manton, while I am like this.... But you saw my lord Cardinal... and I shall send you to Oxford in the autumn...."

Again she took a stitch or two. Guy watched the thin gold thread curve and tighten suddenly, and heard the rasp of it through the heavy brocade.

" I cannot do it to-day, Jane," she said wearily; dropped the stuff and leaned back again. Guy saw the girl throw one arm round her, and pass a handkerchief softly three or four times over that white wrinkled forehead and the closed eyes. Then the Queen motioned her aside with her head, leaned forward again and clasped her hands tightly round her knees.

" Yes, Master Manton... to Oxford in the autumn.... We shall deal with the heretics then, and I wish you to be there."

" Yes, madam," said Guy with a great effort. He felt his knees begin to tremble as he watched.

"That is all then... Another day perhaps...."

Master Manton Knows the Queen Better

Guy came forward a step and knelt; then he half -rose as Mistress Dormer beckoned him sharply away. But Mary unclasped one of her hands and held it out hanging, with the faintest possible suppressed moan.

As he took it on his own hand and, with a great effort, kissed it; he felt that it was icy cold and wet.

Then he rose, knelt again, rose once more and went noiselessly across the room, taking up his book as he passed the table.

He was scarcely conscious of anything except a kind of anger as he passed through the sunlit court on his way to the hall. The bright light round him, the chirping of the birds under the leaves, the radiant sky overhead, the hot stones underfoot — all seemed external and unreal. He still walked softly, and he still carried his great book beneath his arm. He had left reality upstairs behind him, in the darkened room, in the scent of drugs and flowers, the presence of the kneeling maid in the corner and the heap of agony on the floor.

He felt a clap on his shoulder as he went up the steps, and turned round viciously.

" Well, sir," cried Jack, " and did you do as you said?"

Guy snarled silently and fiercely, and the other fell jack astonished at the fury in his face.

Iniqtium est collapsis manwn non porrigere.

Sen. Contr.