Gloriana
Willow Shaw, the little fenced wood where the hop-poles are stacked likeIndian wigwams, had been given to Dan and Una for their very own kingdomwhen they were quite small. As they grew older, they contrived to keepit most particularly private. Even Phillips, the gardener, told themevery time that he came in to take a hop-pole for his beans, and oldHobden would no more have thought of setting his rabbit-wires therewithout leave, given fresh each spring, than he would have torn down thecalico and marking ink notice on the big willow which said: 'Grown-upsnot allowed in the Kingdom unless brought.'
Now you can understand their indignation when, one blowy July afternoon,as they were going up for a potato-roast, they saw somebody movingamong the trees. They hurled themselves over the gate, dropping half thepotatoes, and while they were picking them up Puck came out of a wigwam.
'Oh, it's you, is it?' said Una. 'We thought it was people.' 'I saw youwere angry--from your legs,' he answered with a grin.
'Well, it's our own Kingdom--not counting you, of course.'
'That's rather why I came. A lady here wants to see you.'
'What about?' said Dan cautiously. 'Oh, just Kingdoms and things. Sheknows about Kingdoms.'
There was a lady near the fence dressed in a long dark cloak that hideverything except her high red-heeled shoes. Her face was half coveredby a black silk fringed mask, without goggles. And yet she did not lookin the least as if she motored.
Puck led them up to her and bowed solemnly. Una made the bestdancing-lesson curtsy she could remember. The lady answered with a long,deep, slow, billowy one.
'Since it seems that you are a Queen of this Kingdom,'she said, 'I cando no less than acknowledge your sovereignty.' She turned sharply onstaring Dan. 'What's in your head, lad? Manners?'
'I was thinking how wonderfully you did that curtsy,' he answered.
She laughed a rather shrill laugh. 'You're a courtier already. Do youknow anything of dances, wench--or Queen, must I say?'
'I've had some lessons, but I can't really dance a bit,' said Una.
'You should learn, then.' The lady moved forward as though she wouldteach her at once. 'It gives a woman alone among men or her enemiestime to think how she shall win or--lose. A woman can only work in man'splay-time. Heigho!'She sat down on the bank.
Old Middenboro, the lawn-mower pony, stumped across the paddock and hunghis sorrowful head over the fence.
'A pleasant Kingdom,' said the lady, looking round. 'Well enclosed. Andhow does your Majesty govern it? Who is your Minister?'
Una did not quite understand. 'We don't play that,' she said.
'Play?' The lady threw up her hands and laughed.
'We have it for our own, together,' Dan explained.
'And d'you never quarrel, young Burleigh?'
'Sometimes, but then we don't tell.'
The lady nodded. 'I've no brats of my own, but I understand keeping asecret between Queens and their Ministers. Ay de mi!
But with no disrespect to present majesty, methinks your realm'small, and therefore likely to be coveted by man and beast. For Isexample'--she pointed to Middenboro--'yonder old horse, with the face ofa Spanish friar--does he never break in?'
'He can't. Old Hobden stops all our gaps for us,' said Una, 'and we letHobden catch rabbits in the Shaw.'
The lady laughed like a man. 'I see! Hobden catches conies--rabbits--forhimself, and guards your defences for you. Does he make a profit out ofhis coney-catching?'
'We never ask,' said Una. 'Hobden's a particular friend of ours.''Hoity-toity!' the lady began angrily. Then she laughed. 'But I forget.It is your Kingdom. I knew a maid once that had a larger one than thisto defend, and so long as her men kept the fences stopped, she asked 'emno questions either.'
'Was she trying to grow flowers?'said Una.
'No, trees--perdurable trees. Her flowers all withered.' The lady leanedher head on her hand.
'They do if you don't look after them. We've got a few. Would you liketo see? I'll fetch you some.' Una ran off to the rank grass in the shadebehind the wigwam, and came back with a handful of red flowers. 'Aren'tthey pretty?' she said. 'They're Virginia stock.'
'Virginia?' said the lady, and lifted them to the fringe of her mask.
'Yes. They come from Virginia. Did your maid ever plant any?'
'Not herself--but her men adventured all over the earth to pluck or toplant flowers for her crown. They judged her worthy of them.'
'And was she?' said Dan cheerfully.
'Quien sabe? [who knows?] But at least, while her men toiled abroad shetoiled in England, that they might find a safe home to come back to.'
'And what was she called?'
'Gloriana--Belphoebe--Elizabeth of England.' Her voice changed at eachword.
'You mean Queen Bess?'
The lady bowed her head a little towards Dan. 'You name her lightlyenough, young Burleigh. What might you know of her?' said she.
'Well, I--I've seen the little green shoes she left at BrickwallHouse--down the road, you know. They're in a glass case--awfully tinythings.'
'Oh, Burleigh, Burleigh!' she laughed. 'You are a courtier too soon.'
'But they are,' Dan insisted. 'As little as dolls' shoes. Did you reallyknow her well?'
'Well. She was a--woman. I've been at her Court all my life. Yes, Iremember when she danced after the banquet at Brickwall. They say shedanced Philip of Spain out of a brand-new kingdom that day. Worth theprice of a pair of old shoes--hey?'
She thrust out one foot, and stooped forward to look at its broadflashing buckle.
'You've heard of Philip of Spain--long-suffering Philip,' she said, hereyes still on the shining stones. 'Faith, what some men will endure atsome women's hands passes belief! If I had been a man, and a woman hadplayed with me as Elizabeth played with Philip, I would have--' Shenipped off one of the Virginia stocks and held it up between fingerand thumb. 'But for all that'--she began to strip the leaves one byone--'they say--and I am persuaded--that Philip loved her.' She tossedher head sideways.
'I don't quite understand,' said Una.
'The high heavens forbid that you should, wench!' She swept the flowersfrom her lap and stood up in the rush of shadows that the wind chasedthrough the wood.
'I should like to know about the shoes,' said Dan.
'So ye shall, Burleigh. So ye shall, if ye watch me. 'Twill be as goodas a play.'
'We've never been to a play,' said Una.
The lady looked at her and laughed. 'I'll make one for you. Watch! Youare to imagine that she--Gloriana, Belphoebe, Elizabeth--has gone on aprogress to Rye to comfort her sad heart (maids are often melancholic),and while she halts at Brickwall House, the village--what was its name?'She pushed Puck with her foot.
'Norgem,' he croaked, and squatted by the wigwam.
'Norgem village loyally entertains her with a masque or play, and aLatin oration spoken by the parson, for whose false quantities, if I'dmade 'em in my girlhood, I should have been whipped.'
'You whipped?' said Dan.
'Soundly, sirrah, soundly! She stomachs the affront to her scholarship,makes her grateful, gracious thanks from the teeth outwards, thus'--(thelady yawned)--'Oh, a Queen may love her subjects in her heart, and yetbe dog-wearied of 'em 'in body and mind--and so sits down'--her skirtsfoamed about her as she sat--'to a banquet beneath Brickwall Oak. Herefor her sins she is waited upon by--What were the young cockerels' namesthat served Gloriana at table?'
'Frewens, Courthopes, Fullers, Husseys,' Puck began.
She held up her long jewelled hand. 'Spare the rest! They were the bestblood of Sussex, and by so much the more clumsy in handling the dishesand plates. Wherefore'--she looked funnily over her shoulder--'youare to think of Gloriana in a green and gold-laced habit, dreadfullyexpecting that the jostling youths behind her would, of pure jealousy ordevotion, spatter it with sauces and wines. The gown was Philip's gift,too! At this happy juncture a Queen's messenger, mounted and mired,spurs up the Rye road and delive
rs her a letter'--she giggled--'a letterfrom a good, simple, frantic Spanish gentleman called--Don Philip.'
'That wasn't Philip, King of Spain?'Dan asked.
'Truly, it was. 'Twixt you and me and the bedpost, young Burleigh, thesekings and queens are very like men and women, and I've heard they writeeach other fond, foolish letters that none of their ministers shouldopen.'
'Did her ministers ever open Queen Elizabeth's letters?' said Una.
'Faith, yes! But she'd have done as much for theirs, any day. You areto think of Gloriana, then (they say she had a pretty hand), excusingherself thus to the company--for the Queen's time is never her own--and,while the music strikes up, reading Philip's letter, as I do.' She drewa real letter from her pocket, and held it out almost at arm's length,like the old post-mistress in the village when she reads telegrams.
'Hm! Hm! Hm! Philip writes as ever most lovingly. He says his Glorianais cold, for which reason he burns for her through a fair written page.'She turned it with a snap. 'What's here? Philip complains that certainof her gentlemen have fought against his generals in the Low Countries.He prays her to hang 'em when they re-enter her realms. (Hm, that's asmay be.) Here's a list of burnt shipping slipped between two vows ofburning adoration. Oh, poor Philip! His admirals at sea--no less thanthree of 'em--have been boarded, sacked, and scuttled on their lawfulvoyages by certain English mariners (gentlemen, he will not call them),who are now at large and working more piracies in his American ocean,which the Pope gave him. (He and the Pope should guard it, then!) Philiphears, but his devout ears will not credit it, that Gloriana in somefashion countenances these villains' misdeeds, shares in their booty,and--oh, shame!---has even lent them ships royal for their sinfulthefts. Therefore he requires (which is a word Gloriana loves not),requires that she shall hang 'em when they return to England, andafterwards shall account to him for all the goods and gold they haveplundered. A most loving request! If Gloriana will not be Philip'sbride, she shall be his broker and his butcher! Should she stillbe stiff-necked, he writes--see where the pen digged the innocentpaper!---that he hath both the means and the intention to be revengedon her. Aha! Now we come to the Spaniard in his shirt!' (She wavedthe letter merrily.) 'Listen here! Philip will prepare for Gloriana adestruction from the West--a destruction from the West--far exceedingthat which Pedro de Avila wrought upon the Huguenots. And he rests andremains, kissing her feet and her hands, her slave, her enemy, or herconqueror, as he shall find that she uses him.'
She thrust back the letter under her cloak, and went on acting, but ina softer voice. 'All this while--hark to it--the wind blows throughBrickwall Oak, the music plays, and, with the company's eyes upon her,the Queen of England must think what this means. She cannot remember thename of Pedro de Avila, nor what he did to the Huguenots, nor when, norwhere. She can only see darkly some dark motion moving in Philip's darkmind, for he hath never written before in this fashion. She must smileabove the letter as though it were good news from her ministers--thesmile that tires the mouth and the poor heart. What shall she do?' Againher voice changed.
'You are to fancy that the music of a sudden wavers away. Chris Hatton,Captain of her bodyguard, quits the table all red and ruffled, andGloriana's virgin ear catches the clash of swords at work behind a wall.The mothers of Sussex look round to count their chicks--I mean thoseyoung gamecocks that waited on her. Two dainty youths have steppedaside into Brickwall garden with rapier and dagger on a private point ofhonour. They are haled out through the gate, disarmed and glaring--thelively image of a brace of young Cupids transformed into pale, pantingCains. Ahem! Gloriana beckons awfully--thus! They come up for judgement.Their lives and estates lie at her mercy whom they have doubly offended,both as Queen and woman. But la! what will not foolish young men do fora beautiful maid?'
'Why? What did she do? What had they done?' said Una.
'Hsh! You mar the play! Gloriana had guessed the cause of the trouble.They were handsome lads. So she frowns a while and tells 'em not to bebigger fools than their mothers had made 'em, and warns 'em, if they donot kiss and be friends on the instant, she'll have Chris Hatton horseand birch 'em in the style of the new school at Harrow. (Chris lookssour at that.) Lastly, because she needed time to think on Philip'sletter burning in her pocket, she signifies her pleasure to dance with'em and teach 'em better manners. Whereat the revived company call downHeaven's blessing on her gracious head; Chris and the others prepareBrickwall House for a dance; and she walks in the clipped garden betweenthose two lovely young sinners who are both ready to sink for shame.They confess their fault. It appears that midway in the banquet theelder--they were cousins--conceived that the Queen looked upon him withspecial favour. The younger, taking the look to himself, after somewords gives the elder the lie. Hence, as she guessed, the duel.'
'And which had she really looked at?' Dan asked.
'Neither--except to wish them farther off. She was afraid all the whilethey'd spill dishes on her gown. She tells 'em this, poor chicks--and itcompletes their abasement. When they had grilled long enough, she says:"And so you would have fleshed your maiden swords for me--for me?"Faith, they would have been at it again if she'd egged 'em on! but theirswords--oh, prettily they said it!---had been drawn for her once ortwice already.
'"And where?" says she. "On your hobby-horses before you were breeched?"
'"On my own ship," says the elder. "My cousin was vice-admiral of ourventure in his pinnace. We would not have you think of us as brawlingchildren."
'"No, no," says the younger, and flames like a very Tudor rose. "Atleast the Spaniards know us better."
'"Admiral Boy--Vice-Admiral Babe," says Gloriana, "I cry your pardon.The heat of these present times ripens childhood to age more quicklythan I can follow. But we are at peace with Spain. Where did you breakyour Queen's peace?" '"On the sea called the Spanish Main, though 'tisno more Spanish than my doublet," says the elder. Guess how that warmedGloriana's already melting heart! She would never suffer any sea to becalled Spanish in her private hearing.
'"And why was I not told? What booty got you, and where have you hidit? Disclose," says she. "You stand in some danger of the gallows forpirates."
'"The axe, most gracious lady," says the elder, "for we are gentleborn." He spoke truth, but no woman can brook contradiction."Hoity-toity!" says she, and, but that she remembered that she wasQueen, she'd have cuffed the pair of 'em. "It shall be gallows, hurdle,and dung-cart if I choose."
'"Had our Queen known of our going beforehand, Philip might have heldher to blame for some small things we did on the seas," the youngerlisps.
'"As for treasure," says the elder, "we brought back but our bare lives.We were wrecked on the Gascons' Graveyard, where our sole company forthree months was the bleached bones of De Avila's men."
'Gloriana's mind jumped back to Philip's last letter.
'"De Avila that destroyed the Huguenots? What d'you know of him?" shesays. The music called from the house here, and they three turned backbetween the yews.
'"Simply that De Avila broke in upon a plantation of Frenchmen on thatcoast, and very Spaniardly hung them all for heretics--eight hundredor so. The next year Dominique de Gorgues, a Gascon, broke in upon DeAvila's men, and very justly hung 'em all for murderers--five hundred orso. No Christians inhabit there now, says the elder lad, though 'tis agoodly land north of Florida."
'"How far is it from England?" asks prudent Gloriana.
'"With a fair wind, six weeks. They say that Philip will plant it againsoon." This was the younger, and he looked at her out of the corner ofhis innocent eye.
'Chris Hatton, fuming, meets and leads her into Brickwall Hall, whereshe dances--thus. A woman can think while she dances--can think. I'llshow you. Watch!'
She took off her cloak slowly, and stood forth in dove-coloured satin,worked over with pearls that trembled like running water in the runningshadows of the trees. Still talking--more to herself than to thechildren--she swam into a majestical dance of the stateliest balancings,the naught
iest wheelings and turnings aside, the most dignifiedsinkings, the gravest risings, all joined together by the elaboratestinterlacing steps and circles. They leaned forward breathlessly to watchthe splendid acting.
'Would a Spaniard,' she began, looking on the ground, 'speak of hisrevenge till his revenge were ripe? No. Yet a man who loved a womanmight threaten her 'in the hope that his threats would make her lovehim. Such things have been.' She moved slowly across a bar of sunlight.'A destruction from the West may signify that Philip means to descend onIreland. But then my Irish spies would have had some warning. The Irishkeep no secrets. No--it is not Ireland. Now why--why--why'--the redshoes clicked and paused--'does Philip name Pedro Melendez de Avila,a general in his Americas, unless'--she turned more quickly--unless heintends to work his destruction from the Americas? Did he say De Avilaonly to put her off her guard, or for this once has his blackpen betrayed his black heart? We'--she raised herself to her fullheight--'England must forestall Master Philip. But not openly,'--shesank again--'we cannot fight Spain openly--not yet--not yet.' Shestepped three paces as though she were pegging down some snare with hertwinkling shoe-buckles. 'The Queen's mad gentlemen may fight Philip'spoor admirals where they find 'em, but England, Gloriana, Harry'sdaughter, must keep the peace. Perhaps, after all, Philip loves her--asmany men and boys do. That may help England. Oh, what shall helpEngland?'
She raised her head--the masked head that seemed to have nothing to dowith the busy feet--and stared straight at the children.
'I think this is rather creepy,' said Una with a shiver. 'I wish she'dstop.'
The lady held out her jewelled hand as though she were taking some oneelse's hand in the Grand Chain.
'Can a ship go down into the Gascons' Graveyard and wait there?' sheasked into the air, and passed on rustling.
'She's pretending to ask one of the cousins, isn't she?' said Dan, andPuck nodded.
Back she came in the silent, swaying, ghostly dance. They saw she wassmiling beneath the mask, and they could hear her breathing hard.
'I cannot lend you any of my ships for the venture; Philip would hearof it,' she whispered over her shoulder; 'but as much guns and powder asyou ask, if you do not ask too--'Her voice shot up and she stamped herfoot thrice. 'Louder! Louder, the music in the gallery! Oh, me, but Ihave burst out of my shoe!'
She gathered her skirts in each hand, and began a curtsy. 'You will goat your own charges,' she whispered straight before her. 'Oh, enviableand adorable age of youth!' Her eyes shone through the mask-holes. 'ButI warn you you'll repent it. Put not your trust in princes--or Queens.Philip's ships'll blow you out of water. You'll not be frightened? Well,we'll talk on it again, when I return from Rye, dear lads.'
The wonderful curtsy ended. She stood up. Nothing stirred on her exceptthe rush of the shadows.
'And so it was finished,' she said to the children. 'Why d'you notapplaud?'
'What was finished?' said Una.
'The dance,' the lady replied offendedly. 'And a pair of green shoes.'
'I don't understand a bit,' said Una.
'Eh? What did you make of it, young Burleigh?'
'I'm not quite sure,' Dan began, 'but--'
'You never can be--with a woman. But--?'
'But I thought Gloriana meant the cousins to go back to the Gascons'Graveyard, wherever that was.'
''Twas Virginia after-wards. Her plantation of Virginia.'
'Virginia afterwards, and stop Philip from taking it. Didn't she sayshe'd lend 'em guns?'
'Right so. But not ships--then.'
'And I thought you meant they must have told her they'd do it off theirown bat, without getting her into a row with Philip. Was I right?'
'Near enough for a Minister of the Queen. But remember she gave thelads full time to change their minds. She was three long days at RyeRoyal--knighting of fat Mayors. When she came back to Brickwall, theymet her a mile down the road, and she could feel their eyes burn throughher riding-mask. Chris Hatton, poor fool, was vexed at it.
'"YOU would not birch them when I gave you the chance," says she toChris. "Now you must get me half an hour's private speech with 'em inBrickwall garden. Eve tempted Adam in a garden. Quick, man, or I mayrepent!"'
'She was a Queen. Why did she not send for them herself?' said Una.
The lady shook her head. 'That was never her way. I've seen her walkto her own mirror by bye-ends, and the woman that cannot walk straightthere is past praying for. Yet I would have you pray for her! Whatelse--what else in England's name could she have done?' She lifted herhand to her throat for a moment. 'Faith,' she cried, 'I'd forgottenthe little green shoes! She left 'em at Brickwall--so she did. And Iremember she gave the Norgem parson--John Withers, was he?---a textfor his sermon--"Over Edom have I cast out my shoe." Neat, if he'dunderstood!'
'I don't understand,' said Una. 'What about the two cousins?'
'You are as cruel as a woman,' the lady answered. 'I was not to blame.I told you I gave 'em time to change their minds. On my honour (ay demi!), she asked no more of 'em at first than to wait a while off thatcoast--the Gascons' Graveyard--to hover a little if their ships chancedto pass that way--they had only one tall ship and a pinnace--onlyto watch and bring me word of Philip's doings. One must watch Philipalways. What a murrain right had he to make any plantation there, ahundred leagues north of his Spanish Main, and only six weeks fromEngland? By my dread father's soul, I tell you he had none--none!'She stamped her red foot again, and the two children shrunk back for asecond.
'Nay, nay. You must not turn from me too! She laid it all fairly beforethe lads in Brickwall garden between the yews. I told 'em that if Philipsent a fleet (and to make a plantation he could not well send less),their poor little cock-boats could not sink it. They answered that, withsubmission, the fight would be their own concern. She showed 'em againthat there could be only one end to it--quick death on the sea, or slowdeath in Philip's prisons. They asked no more than to embrace deathfor my sake. Many men have prayed to me for life. I've refused 'em, andslept none the worse after; but when my men, my tall, fantasticalyoung men, beseech me on their knees for leave to die for me, it shakesme--ah, it shakes me to the marrow of my old bones.' Her chest soundedlike a board as she hit it. 'She showed 'em all. I told 'em that thiswas no time for open war with Spain. If by miracle inconceivable theyprevailed against Philip's fleet, Philip would hold me accountable. ForEngland's sake, to save war, I should e'en be forced (I told 'em so) togive him up their young lives. If they failed, and again by some miracleescaped Philip's hand, and crept back to England with their bare lives,they must lie--oh, I told 'em all--under my sovereign displeasure. Shecould not know them, see them, nor hear their names, nor stretch out afinger to save them from the gallows, if Philip chose to ask it.
'"Be it the gallows, then," says the elder. (I could have wept, but thatmy face was made for the day.)
'"Either way--any way--this venture is death, which I know you fear not.But it is death with assured dishonour," I cried.
'"Yet our Queen will know in her heart what we have done," says theyounger. '"Sweetheart," I said. "A queen has no heart."
'"But she is a woman, and a woman would not forget," says the elder. "Wewill go!" They knelt at my feet.
'"Nay, dear lads--but here!" I said, and I opened my arms to them and Ikissed them.
'"Be ruled by me," I said. "We'll hire some ill-featured oldtarry-breeks of an admiral to watch the Graveyard, and you shall come toCourt."
'"Hire whom you please," says the elder; "we are ruled by you, body andsoul"; and the younger, who shook most when I kissed 'em, says betweenhis white lips, "I think you have power to make a god of a man."
'"Come to Court and be sure of't," I said.
'They shook their heads and I knew--I knew, that go they would. If I hadnot kissed them--perhaps I might have prevailed.'
'Then why did you do it?' said Una. 'I don't think you knew really whatyou wanted done.'
'May it please your Majesty'--the lady bowed her head
low--'thisGloriana whom I have represented for your pleasure was a woman and aQueen. Remember her when you come to your Kingdom.'
'But--did the cousins go to the Gascons' Graveyard?' said Dan, as Unafrowned.
'They went,' said the lady.
'Did they ever come back?' Una began; but--'Did they stop King Philip'sfleet?' Dan interrupted.
The lady turned to him eagerly.
'D'you think they did right to go?' she asked.
'I don't see what else they could have done,' Dan replied, afterthinking it over.
'D'you think she did right to send 'em?' The lady's voice rose a little.
'Well,' said Dan, 'I don't see what else she could have done, either--doyou? How did they stop King Philip from getting Virginia?'
'There's the sad part of it. They sailed out that autumn from Rye Royal,and there never came back so much as a single rope-yarn to show whathad befallen them. The winds blew, and they were not. Does that makeyou alter your mind, young Burleigh?' 'I expect they were drowned, then.Anyhow, Philip didn't score, did he?'
'Gloriana wiped out her score with Philip later. But if Philip had won,would you have blamed Gloriana for wasting those lads' lives?'
'Of course not. She was bound to try to stop him.'
The lady coughed. 'You have the root of the matter in you. Were I Queen,I'd make you Minister.'
'We don't play that game,' said Una, who felt that she disliked the ladyas much as she disliked the noise the high wind made tearing throughWillow Shaw.
'Play!' said the lady with a laugh, and threw up her hands affectedly.The sunshine caught the jewels on her many rings and made them flashtill Una's eyes dazzled, and she had to rub them. Then she saw Dan onhis knees picking up the potatoes they had spilled at the gate.
'There wasn't anybody in the Shaw, after all,' he said. 'Didn't youthink you saw someone?'
'I'm most awfully glad there isn't,' said Una. Then they went on withthe potato-roast.