CHAPTER I
ANTHONY IN LONDON
The development of a nation is strangely paralleled by the development ofan individual. There comes in both a period of adolescence, of thestirring of new powers, of an increase of strength, of the dawn of newideals, of the awaking of self-consciousness; contours become defined andabrupt, awkward and hasty movements succeed to the grace of childhood;and there is a curious mingling of refinement and brutality, stupidityand tenderness; the will is subject to whims; it is easily roused and notso easily quieted. Yet in spite of the attendant discomforts the wholeperiod is undeniably one of growth.
The reign of Elizabeth coincided with this stage in the development ofEngland. The young vigour was beginning to stir--and Hawkins and Draketaught the world that it was so, and that when England stretched herselfcatastrophe abroad must follow. She loved finery and feathers and velvet,and to see herself on the dramatic stage and to sing her love-songsthere, as a growing maid dresses up and leans on her hand and looks intoher own eyes in the mirror--and Marlowe and Greene and Shakespeare arewitnesses to it. Yet she loved to hang over the arena too and watch thebear-baiting and see the blood and foam and listen to the snarl of thehounds, as a lad loves sport and things that minister death. Her policy,too, under Elizabeth as her genius, was awkward and ill-considered andcapricious, and yet strong and successful in the end, as a growing lad,while he is clumsier, yet manages to leap higher than a year ago.
And once more, to carry the parallel still further, during the middleperiod of the reign, while the balance of parties and powers remainedmuch the same, principles and tendencies began to assert themselves moredefinitely, just as muscles and sinews begin to appear through the roundcontour of the limbs of a growing child.
Thus, from 1571 to 1577, while there was no startling reversal ofelements in the affairs of England, the entire situation became moredefined. The various parties, though they scarcely changed in theirmutual relations, yet continued to develop swiftly along their respectivelines, growing more pronounced and less inclined to compromise; foreignenmities and expectations became more acute; plots against the Queen'slife more frequent and serious, and the countermining of them underWalsingham more patient and skilful; competition and enterprise in trademore strenuous; Scottish affairs more complicated; movements of revoltand repression in Ireland more violent.
What was true of politics was also true of religious matters, for the twowere inextricably mingled. The Puritans daily became more clamorous andintolerant; their "Exercises" more turbulent, and their demands moreunreasonable and one-sided. The Papists became at once more numerous andmore strict; and the Government measures more stern in consequence. Theact of '71 made it no less a crime than High Treason to reconcile or bereconciled to the Church of Rome, to give effect to a Papal Bull, to bein possession of any muniments of superstition, or to declare the Queen aheretic or schismatic. The Church of England, too, under the wiseguidance of Parker, had begun to shape her course more and moreresolutely along the lines of inclusiveness and moderation; to realiseherself as representing the religious voice of a nation that was widelydivided on matters of faith; and to attempt to include within her foldevery individual that was not an absolute fanatic in the Papist orPuritan direction.
Thus, in every department, in home and foreign politics, in art andliterature, and in religious independence, England was rising and shakingherself free; the last threads that bound her to the Continent weresnapped by the Reformation, and she was standing with her soul, as shethought, awake and free at last, conscious of her beauty and herstrength, ready to step out at last before the world, as a dominant andimperious power.
Anthony Norris had been arrested, like so many others, by the vision ofthis young country of his, his mother and mistress, who stood there,waiting to be served. He had left Cambridge in '73, and for three yearshad led a somewhat aimless life; for his guardian allowed him a generousincome out of his father's fortune. He had stayed with Hubert in thenorth, had yawned and stretched himself at Great Keynes, had gone to andfro among friends' houses, and had at last come to the conclusion, towhich he was aided by a chorus of advisers, that he was wasting his time.
He had begun then to look round him for some occupation, and in the finalchoice of it his early religious training had formed a large element. Ithad kept alive in him a certain sense of the supernatural, that hisexuberance of physical life might otherwise have crushed; and now as helooked about to see how he could serve his country, he became aware thather ecclesiastical character had a certain attraction for him; he had hadindeed an idea of taking Orders; but he had relinquished this by now,though he still desired if he might to serve the National Church in someother capacity. There was much in the Church of England to appeal to hersons; if there was a lack of unity in her faith and policy, yet that waslargely out of sight, and her bearing was gallant and impressive. She hadgreat wealth, great power and great dignity. The ancient buildings andrevenues were hers; the civil power was at her disposal, and the Queenwas eager to further her influence, and to protect her bishops from theencroaching power of Parliament, claiming only for the crown the right tobe the point of union for both the secular and ecclesiastical sections ofthe nation, and to stamp by her royal approval or annul by her veto theacts of Parliament and Convocation alike. It seemed then to Anthony'seyes that the Church of England had a tremendous destiny before her, asthe religious voice of the nation that was beginning to make itself sodominant in the council of the world, and that there was no limit to theinfluence she might exercise by disciplining the exuberant strength ofEngland, and counteracting by her soberness and self-restraint thepassionate fanaticism of the Latin nations. So little by little in placeof the shadowy individualism that was all that he knew of religion, thererose before him the vision of a living church, who came forth terrible asan army with banners, surrounded by all the loyalty that nationalismcould give her, with the Queen herself as her guardian, and great princesand prelates as her supporters, while at the wheels of her splendid carwalked her hot-blooded chivalrous sons, who served her and spread herglories by land and sea, not perhaps chiefly for the sake of herspiritual claims, but because she was bone of their bone; and was no lesszealous than themselves for the name and character of England.
When, therefore, towards the end of '76, Anthony received the offer of aposition in the household of the Archbishop of Canterbury, through therecommendation of the father of one of his Cambridge friends, he acceptedit with real gratitude and enthusiasm.
The post to which he was appointed was that of Gentleman of the Horse.His actual duties were not very arduous owing to the specialcircumstances of Archbishop Grindal; and he had a good deal of time tohimself. Briefly, they were as follows--He had to superintend the Yeomanof the Horse, and see that he kept full accounts of all the horses instable or at pasture, and of all the carriages and harness and the like.Every morning he had to present himself to the Archbishop and receivestable-orders for the day, and to receive from the yeoman accounts of thestables. Every month he examined the books of the yeoman before passingthem on to the steward. His permission too was necessary before anyguest's or stranger's horse might be cared for in the Lambeth stables.
He was responsible also for all the men and boys connected with thestable; to engage them, watch their morals and even the performance oftheir religious duties, and if necessary report them for dismissal to thesteward of the household. In Archbishop Parker's time this had been abusy post, as the state observed at Lambeth and Croydon was veryconsiderable; but Grindal was of a more retiring nature, disliking as wassaid, "lordliness"; and although still the household was an immenseaffair, in its elaborateness and splendour beyond almost any but royalhouseholds of the present day, still Anthony's duties were far fromheavy. The Archbishop indeed at first dispensed with this officealtogether, and concentrated all the supervision of the stable on theyeoman, and Anthony was the first and only Gentleman of the Horse thatArchbis
hop Grindal employed. The disgrace and punishment under which theArchbishop fell so early in his archiepiscopate made this particular posteasier than it would even otherwise have been; as fewer equipages wererequired when the Archbishop was confined to his house, and theestablishment was yet further reduced.
Ordinarily then his duties were over by eleven o'clock, except whenspecial arrangements were to be made. He rose early, waited upon theArchbishop by eight o'clock, and received his orders for the day; theninterviewed the yeoman; sometimes visited the stables to receivecomplaints, and was ready by half-past ten to go to the chapel for themorning prayers with the rest of the household. At eleven he dined at theSteward's table in the great hall, with the other principal officers ofthe household, the chaplain, the secretaries, and the gentlemen ushers,with guests of lesser degree. This great hall with its two entrances atthe lower end near the gateway, its magnificent hammer-beam roof, itsdais, its stained glass, was a worthy place of entertainment, and hadbeen the scene of many great feasts and royal visits in the times ofprevious archbishops in favour with the sovereign, and of a splendidbanquet at the beginning of Grindal's occupancy of the see. Now, however,things were changed. There were seldom many distinguished persons to dinewith the disgraced prelate; and he himself preferred too to entertainthose who could not repay him again, after the precept of the gospel; andbesides the provision for the numerous less important guests who dineddaily at Lambeth, a great tub was set at the lower end of the hall as ithad been in Parker's time, and every day after dinner under the steward'sdirection was filled with food from the tables, which was afterwardsdistributed at the gate to poor people of the neighbourhood.
After dinner Anthony's time was often his own, until the evening prayersat six, followed by supper again spread in the hall. It was necessary forhim always to sleep in the house, unless leave was obtained from thesteward. This gentleman, Mr. John Scot, an Esquire, took a fancy toAnthony, and was indulgent to him in many ways; and Anthony had, as amatter of fact, little difficulty in coming and going as he pleased sosoon as his morning duties were done.
Lambeth House had been lately restored by Parker, and was now a verybeautiful and well-kept place. Among other repairs and buildings he hadre-roofed the great hall that stood just within Morton's gateway; he hadbuilt a long pier into the Thames where the barge could be entered easilyeven at low tide; he had rebuilt the famous summerhouse of Cranmer's inthe garden, besides doing many sanitary alterations and repairs; and thehouse was well kept up in Grindal's time.
Anthony soon added a great affection and tenderness to the awe that hefelt for the Archbishop, who was almost from the first a pathetic andtouching figure. When Anthony first entered on his duties in November'76, he found the Archbishop in his last days of freedom and good favourwith the Queen. Elizabeth, he soon learnt from the gossip of thehousehold, was as determined to put down the Puritan "prophesyings" asthe popish services; for both alike tended to injure the peace she wasresolved to maintain. Rumours were flying to and fro; the Archbishop wascontinually going across the water to confer with his friends and theLords of the Council, and messengers came and went all day; and it wassoon evident that the Archbishop did not mean to yield. It was said thathis Grace had sent a letter to her Majesty bidding her not to meddle withwhat did not concern her, telling her that she, too, would one day haveto render account before Christ's tribunal, and warning her of God'sanger if she persisted.
Her Majesty had sworn like a trooper, a royal page said one day as helounged over the fire in the guard-room, and had declared that if she waslike Ozeas and Ahab and the rest, as Grindal had said she was, she wouldtake care that he, at least, should be like Micaiah the son of Imlah,before she had done with him. Then it began to leak out that Elizabethwas sending her commands to the bishops direct instead of through theirMetropolitan; and, as the days went by, it became more and more evidentthat disgrace was beginning to shadow Lambeth. The barges that drew up atthe watergate were fewer as summer went on, and the long tables in hallwere more and more deserted; even the Archbishop himself seemed silentand cast down. Anthony used to watch him from his window going up anddown the little walled garden that looked upon the river, with his handsclasped behind him and his black habit gathered up in them, and his chinon his breast. He would be longer than ever too in chapel after themorning prayer, and the company would wait and wonder in the anteroomtill his Grace came in and gave the signal for dinner. And at last theblow fell.
On one day in June, Anthony, who had been on a visit to Isabel at GreatKeynes, returned to Lambeth in time for morning prayer and dinner justbefore the gates were shut by the porter, having ridden up early with acouple of grooms. There seemed to him to be an air of constraint abroadas the guests and members of the household gathered for dinner. Therewere no guests of high dignity that day, and the Archbishop sat at hisown table silent and apart. Anthony, from his place at the steward'stable, noticed that he ate very sparingly, and that he appeared even morepreoccupied and distressed than usual. His short-sighted eyes, kind andbrown, surrounded by wrinkles from his habit of peering closely ateverything, seemed full of sadness and perplexity, and his hand fumbledwith his bread continually. Anthony did not like to ask anything of hisneighbours, as there were one or two strangers dining at the steward'stable that day; and the moment dinner was over, and grace had been saidand the Archbishop retired with his little procession preceded by a whitewand, an usher came running back to tell Master Norris that his Gracedesired to see him at once in the inner cloister.
Anthony hastened round through the court between the hall and the river,and found the Archbishop walking up and down in his black habit with theround flapped cap, that, as a Puritan, he preferred to the squarehead-dress of the more ecclesiastically-minded clergy, still lookingtroubled and cast down, continually stroking his dark forked beard, andtalking to one of his secretaries. Anthony stood at a little distance atthe open side of the court near the river, cap in hand, waiting till theArchbishop should beckon him. The two went up and down in the shade inthe open court outside the cloisters, where the pump stood, and where thepulpit had been erected for the Queen's famous visit to his predecessor;when she had sat in a gallery over the cloister and heard the chaplain'ssermon. On the north rose up the roof of the chapel. The cloistersthemselves were poor buildings--little more than passages with acontinuous row of square windows running along them the height of a man'shead.
After a few minutes the secretary left the Archbishop with an obeisance,and hastened into the house through the cloister, and presently theArchbishop, after a turn or two more with the same grave air, peeredtowards Anthony and then called him.
Anthony immediately came towards him and received orders that half adozen horses with grooms should be ready as soon as possible, who were toreceive orders from Mr. Richard Frampton, the secretary; and that threeor four horses more were to be kept saddled till seven o'clock thatevening in case further messages were wanted.
"And I desire you, Mr. Norris," said the Archbishop, "to let the menunder your charge know that their master is in trouble with the Queen'sGrace; and that they can serve him best by being prompt and obedient."
Anthony bowed to the Archbishop, and was going to withdraw, but theArchbishop went on:
"I will tell you," he said, "for your private ear only at present, that Ihave received an order this day from my Lords of the Council, bidding meto keep to my house for six months; and telling me that I am sequesteredby the Queen's desire. I know not how this will end, but the cause isthat I will not do her Grace's will in the matter of the Exercises, as Iwrote to tell her so; and I am determined, by God's grace, not to yieldin this thing; but to govern the charge committed to me as He gives melight. That is all, Mr. Norris."
The whole household was cast into real sorrow by the blow that had fallenat last on the master; he was "loving and grateful to servants"; and wasfree and liberal in domestic matters, and it needed only a hint that hewas in trouble, for his officers and servants to do their utmost fo
r him.
Anthony's sympathy was further aroused by the knowledge that the Papists,too, hated the old man, and longed to injure him. There had been a greatincrease of Catholics this year; the Archbishop of York had reported that"a more stiff-necked, wilful, or obstinate people did he never hear of";and from Hereford had come a lament that conformity itself was a mockery,as even the Papists that attended church were a distraction when they gotthere, and John Hareley was instanced as "reading so loud upon his Latinpopish primer (that he understands not) that he troubles both ministerand people." In November matters were so serious that the Archbishop felthimself obliged to take steps to chastise the recusants; and in Decembercame the news of the execution of Cuthbert Maine at Launceston inCornwall.
How much the Catholics resented this against the Archbishop was broughtto Anthony's notice a day or two later. He was riding back for morningprayer after an errand in Battersea, one frosty day, and had just come insight of Morton's Gateway, when he observed a man standing by it, whoturned and ran, on hearing the horse's footsteps, past Lambeth Church anddisappeared in the direction of the meadows behind Essex House. Anthonychecked his horse, doubtful whether to follow or not, but decided to seewhat it was that the man had left pinned to the door. He rode up anddetached it, and found it was a violent and scurrilous attack upon theArchbishop for his supposed share in the death of the two Papists. Itdenounced him as a "bloody pseudo-minister," compared him to Pilate, andbade him "look to his congregation of lewd and profane persons that henamed the Church of England," for that God would avenge the blood of hissaints speedily upon their murderers.
Anthony carried it into the hall, and after showing it to Mr. Scot, putit indignantly into the fire. The steward raised his eyebrows.
"Why so, Master Norris?" he asked.
"Why," said Anthony sharply, "you would not have me frame it, and show tomy lord."
"I am not sure," said the other, "if you desire to injure the Papists.Such foul nonsense is their best condemnation. It is best to keepevidence against a traitor, not destroy it. Besides, we might have caughtthe knave, and now we cannot," he added, looking at the black shrivellingsheet half regretfully.
"It is a mystery to me," said Anthony, "how there can be Papists."
"Why, they hate England," said the steward, briefly, as the bell rang formorning prayer. As Anthony followed him along the gallery, he thoughthalf guiltily of Sir Nicholas and his lady, and wondered whether that wastrue of them. But he had no doubt that it was true of Catholics as aclass; they had ceased to be English; the cause of the Pope and the Queenwere irreconcilable; and so the whole incident added more fuel to the hotflame of patriotism and loyalty that burnt so bright in the lad's soul.
But it was fanned yet higher by a glimpse he had of Court-life; and heowed it to Mary Corbet whom he had only seen momentarily in public onceor twice, and never to speak to since her visit to Great Keynes over sixyears ago. He had blushed privately and bitten his lip a good many timesin the interval, when he thought of his astonishing infatuation, and yetthe glamour had never wholly faded; and his heart quickened perceptiblywhen he opened a note one day, brought by a royal groom, that asked himto come that very afternoon if he could, to Whitehall Palace, whereMistress Corbet would be delighted to see him and renew theiracquaintance.
As he came, punctual to the moment, into the gallery overlooking thetilt-yard, the afternoon sun was pouring in through the oriel window, andthe yard beyond seemed all a haze of golden light and dust. He heard anexclamation, as he paused, dazzled, and the servant closed the doorbehind him; and there came forward to him in the flood of glory, the sameresplendent figure, all muslin and jewels, that he remembered so well,with the radiant face, looking scarcely older, with the same dancing eyesand scarlet lips. All the old charm seemed to envelop him in a moment ashe saluted her with all the courtesy of which he was capable.
"Ah!" she cried, "how happy I am to see you again--those dear days atGreat Keynes!" And she took both his hands with such ardour that poorAnthony was almost forced to think that he had never been out of herthoughts since.
"How can I serve you, Mistress Corbet?" he asked.
"Serve me? Why, by talking to me, and telling me of the country. Whatdoes the lad mean? Come and sit here," she said, and she drew him to thewindow seat.
Anthony looked out into the shining haze of the tilt-yard. Some one witha long pole was struggling violently on the back of a horse, jerking thereins and cursing audibly.
"Look at that fool," said Mary, "he thinks his horse as great a dolt ashimself. Chris, Chris," she screamed through her hands--"you sodden ass;be quieter with the poor beast--soothe him, soothe him. He doesn't knowwhat you want of him with your foul temper and your pole going like awindmill about his ears."
The cursing and jerking ceased, and a red furious face with thick blackbeard and hair looked up. But before the rider could speak, Mary went onagain:
"There now, Chris, he is as quiet as a sheep again. Now take him at it."
"What does he want?" asked Anthony. "I can scarcely see for the dust."
"Why, he's practising at the quintain;--ah! ah!" she cried out again, asthe quintain was missed and swung round with a hard buffet on the man'sback as he tore past. "Going to market, Chris? You've got a sturdyshepherd behind you. Baa, baa, black sheep."
"Who's that?" asked Anthony, as the tall horseman, as if driven by thestorm of contumely from the window, disappeared towards the stable.
"Why that's Chris Hatton--whom the Queen calls her sheep, and he's assilly as one, too, with his fool's face and his bleat and his great eyes.He trots about after her Grace, too, like a pet lamb. Bah! I'm sick ofhim. That's enough of the ass; tell me about Isabel."
Then they fell to talking about Isabel; and Mary eyed him as he answeredher questions.
"Then she isn't a Papist, yet?" she asked.
Anthony's face showed such consternation that she burst out laughing.
"There, there, there!" she cried. "No harm's done. Then that tall lad,who was away last time I was there--well, I suppose he's not turnedProtestant?"
Anthony's face was still more bewildered.
"Why, my dear lad," she said, "where are your eyes?"
"Mistress Corbet," he burst out at last, "I do not know what you mean.Hubert has been in Durham for years. There is no talk----" and hestopped.
Mary's face became sedate again.
"Well, well," she said, "I always was a tattler. It seems I am wrongagain. Forgive me, Master Anthony."
Anthony was indeed astonished at her fantastic idea. Of course he knewthat Hubert had once been fond of Isabel, but that was years ago, whenthey had been all children together. Why, he reflected, he too had beenfoolish once--and he blushed a little.
Then they went on to talk of Great Keynes, Sir Nicholas, and Mr.Stewart's arrest and death; and Mary asked Anthony to excuse her interestin such matters, but Papistry had always been her religion, and whatcould a poor girl do but believe what she was taught? Then they went onto speak of more recent affairs, and Mary made him describe to her hislife at Lambeth, and everything he did from the moment he got up to themoment he went to bed again; and whether the Archbishop was a kindmaster, and how long they spent at prayers, and how many courses they hadat dinner; and Anthony grew more and more animated and confidential--shewas so friendly and interested and pretty, as she leaned towards him andquestioned and listened, and the faint scent of violet from her dressawakened his old memories of her.
And then at last she approached the subject on which she had chieflywished to see him--which was that he should speak to the steward atLambeth on behalf of a young man who was to be dismissed, it seemed, fromthe Archbishop's service, because his sister had lately turned Papist andfled to a convent abroad. It was a small matter; and Anthony readilypromised to do his best, and, if necessary, to approach the Archbishophimself: and Mistress Corbet was profusely grateful.
They had hardly done talking of the matter, when a trumpet blew suddenlysomewhere away
behind the building they were in. Mary held up a whitefinger and put her head on one side.
"That will be the Ambassador," she said.
Anthony looked at her interrogatively.
"Why, you country lad!" she said, "come and see."
She jumped up, and he followed her down the gallery, and along throughinterminable corridors and ante-chambers, and up and down the stairs ofthis enormous palace; and Anthony grew bewildered and astonished as hewent at the doors on all sides, and the roofs that ranged themselvesevery way as he looked out. And at last Mary stopped at a window, andpointed out.
The courtyard beneath was alive with colour and movement. In front of theentrance opposite waited the great gilded state carriage, and another wasjust driving away. On one side a dozen ladies on grey horses were drawnup, to follow behind the Queen when she should come out; and a double rowof liveried servants were standing bare-headed round the empty carriage.The rest of the court was filled with Spanish and English nobles,mounted, with their servants on foot; all alike in splendid costumes--theSpaniards with rich chains about their necks, and tall broad-brimmed hatsdecked with stones and pearls, and the Englishmen in feathered buckledcaps and short cloaks thrown back. Two or three trumpeters stood on thesteps of the porch. Anthony did not see much state at Lambeth, and thesplendour and gaiety of this seething courtyard exhilarated him, and hestared down at it all, fascinated, while Mary Corbet poured out a causticcommentary:
"There is the fat fool Chris again, all red with his tilting. I wouldlike to baa at him again, but I dare not with all these foreign folk.There is Leicester, that tall man with a bald forehead in the cap withthe red feather, on the white horse behind the carriage--he always keepsclose to the Queen. He is the enemy of your prelate, Master Anthony, youknow.... That is Oxford, just behind him on the chestnut. Yes, look wellat him. He is the prince of the tilt-yard; none can stand against him.You would say he was at his nine-pins, when he rides against them all....And he can do more than tilt. These sweet-washed gloves"--and she flappedan embroidered pair before Anthony--"these he brought to England. Godbless and reward him for it!" she added fervently.... "I do not seeBurghley. Eh! but he is old and gouty these days; and loves a cushion anda chair and a bit of flannel better than to kneel before her Grace. Youknow, she allows him to sit when he confers with her. But then, she isever prone to show mercy to bearded persons.... Ah! there is dear Sidney;that is a sweet soul. But what does he do here among the stones andmortar when he has the beeches of Penshurst to walk beneath. He is not sowise as I thought him.... But I must say I grow weary of his nymphs andhis airs of Olympus. And for myself, I do not see that Flora andPhoebus and Maia and the rest are a great gain, instead of Our Lady andSaint Christopher and the court of heaven. But then I am a Papist and nota heathen, and therefore blind and superstitious. Is that not so, MasterAnthony?... And there is Maitland beside him, with the black velvet capand the white feather, and his cross eyes and mouth. Now I wish he wereat Penshurst, or Bath--or better still, at Jericho, for it is furtheroff. I cannot bear that fellow.... Why, Sussex is going on the water,too, I see. Now what brings him here? I should have thought his affairsgave him enough to think of.... There he is, with his groom behind him,on the other chestnut. I am astonished at him. He is all for this Frenchmarriage, you know. So you may figure to yourself Mendoza's love for him!They will be like two cats together on the barge; spitting and snarlingsoftly at one another. Her Grace loves to balance folk like that; firstone stretches his claws, and then the other; then one arches his back andsnarls, and the other scratches his face for him; and then when all isflying fur and blasphemy, off slips her Grace and does what she will."
It was an astonishing experience for Anthony. He had stepped out from hisworkaday life among the grooms and officers and occasional glimpses ofhis lonely old master, into an enchanted region, where great personageswhose very names were luminous with fame, now lived and breathed andlooked cheerful or sullen before his very eyes; and one who knew them intheir daily life stood by him and commented and interpreted them for him.He listened and stared, dazed with the strangeness of it all.
Mistress Corbet was proceeding to express her views upon the foreignelement that formed half the pageant, when the shrill music broke outagain in the palace, and the trumpeters on the steps took it up; and astir and bustle began. Then out of the porch began to stream aprocession, like a river of colour and jewels, pouring from the foot ofthe carved and windowed wall, and eddying in a tumbled pool about thegreat gilt carriage;--ushers and footmen and nobles and ladies and pagesin bewildering succession. Anthony pressed his forehead to the glass ashe watched, with little exclamations, and Mary watched him, amused andinterested by his enthusiasm.
And last moved the great canopy bending and swaying under the doorway,and beneath it, like two gorgeous butterflies, at the sight of whom allthe standing world fell on its knees, came the pale Elizabeth with herauburn hair, and the brown-faced Mendoza, side by side; and entered thecarriage with the five plumes atop and the caparisoned horses thatstamped and tossed their jingling heads. The yard was already emptyingfast, _en route_ for Chelsea Stairs; and as soon as the two were seated,the shrill trumpets blew again, and the halberdiers moved off with thecarriage in the midst, the great nobles going before, and the ladiesbehind. The later comers mounted as quickly as possible, as their horseswere brought in from the stable entrance, and clattered away, and in fiveminutes the yard was empty, except for a few sentries at their posts, anda servant or two lounging at the doorway; and as Anthony still stared atthe empty pavement and the carpeted steps, far away from the direction ofthe Abbey came the clear call of the horns to tell the loyal folk thatthe Queen was coming.
It was a great inspiration for Anthony. He had seen world-powersincarnate below him in the glittering rustling figure of the Queen, andthe dark-eyed courtly Ambassador in his orders and jewels at her side.There they had sat together in one carriage; the huge fiery realm of thesouth, whose very name was redolent with passion and adventure andboundless wealth; and the little self-contained northern kingdom, nowbeginning to stretch its hands, and quiver all along its tingling sinewsand veins with fresh adolescent life. And Anthony knew that he was one ofthe cells of this young organism; and that in him as well as in Elizabethand this sparkling creature at his side ran the fresh red blood ofEngland. They were all one in the possession of a common life; and hisheart burned as he thought of it.
After he had parted from Mary he rode back to Westminster, and crossedthe river by the horse-ferry that plied there. And even as he landed andgot his beast, with a deal of stamping and blowing, off the echoingboards on to the clean gravel again, there came down the reaches of theriver the mellow sound of music across a mile of water, mingled with thedeep rattle of oars, and sparkles of steel and colour glittered from thefar-away royal barges in the autumn sunshine; and the lad thought withwonder how the two great powers so savagely at war upon the salt sea,were at peace here, sitting side by side on silken cushions and listeningto the same trumpets of peace upon the flowing river.