In Doublet and Hose Part 18

Didst thou not have enough of flattery? Gramercy! hath it not always been true that sugar would catch more flies than vinegar?"

"What mean you?" stammered Francis, her sensitive nature becoming aware of the change in the lady's manner from the caressing sweetness of the morning to the mocking air of the moment.

"Didst think thy beauty had ensnared me?" queried the lady quizzically.

"It hath. As the yellow metal of the earth hath always thrown a spell over men so the red gold of thy hair hath fascinated me. I dote on thy locks, my fair page. Ay! so much so that they and I shall ne'er be parted more. Celeste! Annabelle! have at him!"

"Why, why," cried the girl, struggling to rise as the maids set upon her.

"My lady! My lady!"

But strong as her outdoor life had made her, she was no match for the damsels of the Lady Priscilla. Soon she lay back in her chair bound hand and foot.

"No harm is meant thee, master page," remarked the lady as, armed with a huge pair of shears, she approached the maiden. "'Tis only that thy silken tresses have tangled my heart in their meshes until sleep hath fled my pillow. I think on their l.u.s.tre day and night. And so do I take them to adorn mine own pate. Thinkest thou that they could cover a fairer head?"

"Oh, madam," cried the girl tearfully as the shears snipped relentlessly over her head, for her hair had always been a weak point with her. "O, spare my hair, I entreat!"

"Fie, sir page! Thou dost shame thy manhood. True, thou art yet guiltless of beard, yet still thou shouldst not play the woman."

"But, madam, I shall report this to the queen. What think you she will say when she knows that one of her ladies was guilty of this outrage?"

"She would not listen to thee, malapert. Should she do so, I would say that Priscilla Rutland knew no peace until she could emulate in her own locks the regal color that crowned her august mistress' brow. That she would stoop to do anything could she but faintly follow such beauty. But I fear not thy disclosure, sirrah. Art thou not in disgrace? Then what boots it what thou sayst?"

"True;" said Francis and opened her lips no more. Clip, clip, went the shears until at last all of her ringlets lay, a ma.s.s of ruddy gold, in a great heap among the rushes. Francis looked at them, and then at the mocking face of the lady, and her heart throbbed with wrath.

"Madam," she said as the Lady Priscilla untied her bonds and she was once more free, "I will never forgive this."

"Thou art rude, sirrah," laughed the lady. "But I blame thee not. Be patient, master page. I will come to thee when thy locks have been woven into a wig and thou shalt see how well they become me."

"Thou shalt never wear hair of mine," cried Francis, white with anger.

Before the lady or her maids could prevent she seized a lamp from one of the scones and threw it into the midst of red curls.

"Help! Help!" cried the lady and the maids simultaneously, for the lamp which was of the simplest manufacture, being a wick fed by oil, set fire instantly to the curls and surrounding rushes. Scattering to the right and left the maids called l.u.s.tily: "Fire! Fire! Seize the boy!"

Staying only long enough to see that there was no probability of saving the hair, Francis dashed through the arras, and fled through chamber after chamber trying to find an exit.

"This way," she heard a voice call as, bewildered and confused, she paused, not knowing which way to turn.

To her amazement, Edward Devereaux stood in a door of a chamber beckoning to her. She gave an exclamation of surprise but, enemy though she considered him, followed him without hesitation. Through a maze of rooms the boy led the way with the air of one to whom they were familiar; then down a flight of steps, through an open window and out upon a balcony that overlooked the great garden.

"We will conceal ourselves in the shrubbery," he said vaulting lightly over the rail into the garden below, followed closely by the girl. They stopped in the shadow of a clump of close clipped black yews. "Here we can remain," he said, "until the hue and cry is over. What happened, Francis?"

Francis poured forth her story rapidly.

"I hate this vile court," she cried with a burst of pa.s.sionate tears as she concluded. "I want my home! Oh, I want to go home!"

"I blame you not, Francis Stafford," said Edward Devereaux forbearing to taunt her with the fact that had she heeded his words this last misery would not have come upon her. "You feel as we all feel at times, yet are we constrained to bide here. Were it in truth to serve the queen, G.o.d bless her, there would be joy in staying. But to be at the beck and call of every n.o.ble; to bear the trains of the ladies or dance attendance upon them is not the life that a youth wishes. I pity thee, Francis, and thy plight is not so bad as it will be should yon tower burn to the ground."

"Oh!" Francis looked up with startled eyes. "I did not think of that. It was not my intent to burn the tower. Think you that it is in danger, Edward?"

"Mayhap not," answered the boy regarding the tower with anxious eyes. "We can but watch."

The two stood looking at the building in silence. As the moments pa.s.sed the lights disappeared from the windows, darkness settled over the tower, and all was quiet. Francis drew a long breath of relief.

"It was unthinking and unheeding in me to throw the light," she said.

"What if the building had burned? The castle might have followed and thus endangered the life of the queen. Oh, miserable girl that I am! What would my father say to me?"

"Be not so cast down," comforted Edward. "Thou hadst great provocation, and pardon me, mistress, but thy temper is not of the gentlest."

"I know," said Francis with unwonted meekness. "But when I saw my hair, my pretty hair," she paused, her utterance choked, unwilling to give way to her grief before him.

The boy touched the shorn head compa.s.sionately.

"'Twill not be long before it will grow again," he said. "And so long as thou must wear that garb it will be all the better. I have seen many longing glances cast at thy locks, Francis. 'Tis wonder that such mishap hath not occurred before. If thou dost not wear them, thou hast at least put it out of their power to grace the head of another. There is something in that."

"Yes;" said Francis with a flash of spirit. "I would not that harm should come to the palace, yet glad am I that the tresses were consumed. Thou hast been kind to me, Master Devereaux. And yet thou art mine enemy!"

"Better an open enemy than a deceitful friend," quoth Edward sententiously. "Say no more, Francis Stafford. If I have been of service to thee, let it in some measure atone for my churlishness in killing that deer. But we must to our several abodes else we shall bring the displeasure of my lord chamberlain upon us. We shall have enough to answer to this charge. I fear the issue to-morrow. Come!"

CHAPTER XVII

WHAT FRANCIS OVERHEARD

Francis awaited the coming of the day with some trepidation, fearing that she might be obliged to render an account of the night before. And indeed had the result been other than it was, she would have been called to a very serious reckoning. It was marvelous that there was not more damage sustained, but it came to her ears during the day that the fire had been extinguished before it had gone beyond the rushes. The hair had been totally consumed.

The girl soon became aware that the episode was known throughout the court. When the Lady Priscilla Rutland made her appearance there was subdued laughter and t.i.tterings among the ladies and their gallants.

Francis' shorn head was the cynosure of all eyes, but her manner was so haughty that it repelled all facetious remarks.

The incident was recounted to Elizabeth. The queen laughed heartily at the discomfiture of the lady for she was never ill pleased when one of her maids brought ridicule upon herself, and turning to Lord Shrope who stood near while it was being related she remarked graciously:

"Upon my word, my lord, there is more in that charge of thine than I thought. If certain rumors which have come to our ears be not verified we will have him placed nearer our person. Methinks such spirit well trained could be made useful."

"You speak truly, madam," returned Lord Shrope. "I know not what is the nature of the rumors, but knowing Francis Stafford, I make bold to say that Rumor hath played thee false."

"We shall see, my lord," was Elizabeth's reply.

Lord Shrope feared to press the matter, but as soon as it was expedient he hastened to seek Francis.

"The tide hath turned, child," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Fate hath at last become propitious to thee, for Elizabeth hath begun to look upon thee with kindness. The accident of the hair hath done for thee what naught else hath been able to do," and he told her what the queen had said.

To his surprise Francis was not so elated as he expected. On the contrary his words filled her with alarm.

"Said the queen of what the rumors consisted?" she asked with uneasiness.

"No, child; but there can be naught of harm in them. Thy life hath been so innocent in thy Hampshire wilds that there is no act or thought of thine but could be laid open to the queen. Thou hast naught to fear from any gossip. 'Tis only when conscious of baseness that we fear to have our lives searched. Thou hast done nothing wrong; therefore fear nothing."

"My lord," said Francis touched by his faith, "you honor me too much.