CHAPTER XIX
THE PAWNS
The evening banquet had been anything but gay.
The Queen, as was oft her wont, had hardly said a word. The Cardinal deMoreno looked thoughtful and His Grace of Wessex was singularly silent.
Directly after supper Her Majesty retired to her own apartments,accompanied by her ladies, leaving behind her that desultory atmosphereof dull and purposeless conversation, which hangs round a supper tablein the absence of the fair sex.
The brilliant assembly broke up into small groups. The Earl of Pembrokeand two or three other lords were leaving for Scotland towards midnight;their friends gathered round them to bid them God-speed. In the deepembrasure of the great bay His Grace of Wessex was in earnest conferencewith Lord Winchester and Sir William Drury, whilst at one end of thelong centre table half a dozen young gallants were idling over a game ofhazard.
But there was a feeling of obsession in the air--a sense as if somethingmomentous was about to happen. Whispered rumours, more or lessconflicting, were afloat, yet nothing definite was known. On the otherhand, idle, far-stretched gossip was rife and was even growing inextravagance as the evening wore on.
No one had been present on the terrace to witness the little incidentwhich occurred there earlier in the afternoon save the threedistinguished actors in the brief comedy scene. Obviously from themnothing could be gleaned. The Queen and the Cardinal would not be liketo enlighten the curious, whilst the Duke of Wessex, at all timesreserved and unapproachable, could not be asked to give his version ofthe event.
The foreign envoys had very soon followed the example set by Her Majestyand withdrawn from the circle, which seemed more hostile to them thanusual to-night. The Cardinal de Moreno and the Marquis de Suarez werethe first to go. They occupied the magnificent suite of chambers whereinill-fated Wolsey had lived, schemed, and fallen. The more sumptuousseries of rooms beyond--those built with lavish extravagance by KingHenry VIII for his own personal use--had been placed at the disposal ofHis Grace of Wessex and his numerous retinue.
Between the Duke's apartments and those allotted to the envoys of theKing of Spain was the fine audience chamber, used by the Queen herselfor by her more distinguished guests for the reception of importantvisitors. It was here that Lord Everingham, anxious, perturbed, vaguelyashamed of his own actions, had sought out the Cardinal de Moreno afterthe banquet and begged for an interview.
His Eminence, suave, urbane, a veritable mirror of benevolence, hadreceived him with a smile of welcome on his lips and a wealth of kindlyreproach in his eyes.
"Ah, my lord!" he said to the young man, as soon as the servants hadwithdrawn, "Nature, I fear me, hath not intended you for a diplomatist."
"How so?"
"This interview to-night, with me--was it necessary?"
"I could not rest," said Everingham impulsively, "until----"
"Until you had proclaimed it to the entire Court in general, and to HisGrace of Wessex in particular, that you had a secret understanding withhis political rival, the Spanish ambassador," rejoined His Eminencedrily.
"An interview . . ."
"Have you ever honoured me thus before, my lord?--you or any of yourfriends?"
"No . . . perhaps not . . . I only requested a brief _tete-a-tete_.. . ."
"And had I refused that dangerous _tete-a-tete_, what would you havedone?"
"Demanded it," replied Everingham hotly. "I must know what has happened,and what you intend to do."
His Eminence threw a quick look at the young man, a look half of pity,half of contempt. For a moment it seemed as if an angry retort hoveredupon his lips. But he merely shrugged his shoulders and said blandly--
"You are very expert at the game of chess, my lord, so they tell me."
"I have played it a great many times," rejoined Everingham, a littleastonished at the sudden transition.
"Ah! and have become very proficient, I understand. Will you honour meby playing a game with me?"
"Now?"
"Why not?"
"The lateness of the hour . . . I start for Scotland almost directly."
"Yet in spite of these difficulties you sought a casual interview withan avowed political enemy."
"No one need know . . ." stammered the young man, slightly abashed.
"Every one inside this Palace knows by now that my lord of Everingham,the intimate friend at His Grace of Wessex, is closeted alone with theenvoy of His Majesty the King of Spain," rejoined His Eminence withslow emphasis. "Believe me, my lord, a game of chess is the wisestcourse."
"Will you tell me first . . ."
"I can tell your lordship nothing, except across the chess board."
"Well! . . . since you wish it . . ."
"My wishes have naught to do with this matter. I was following the mostelementary dictates of prudence."
He touched the handbell and rang. A liveried servant appeared.
"Had I not told thee, sirrah," said His Eminence, "that my lordEveringham had kindly consented to give me my _revanche_ at chess ere hedeparted? How is it that the board has not been prepared?"
"I crave Your Eminence's most humble pardon," protested the man inconfusion. "I had not understood . . ."
"Not understood?" laughed the Cardinal good-naturedly. "Marry! the knavedoth impugn my knowledge of the English tongue."
"I would not presume, Your Eminence . . ."
"Tush, man! hold thy tongue and repair thy negligence. Where's theboard? His lordship hath but an hour to spare."
Everingham watched with ill-concealed impatience the elaboratepreparations made for the game. He thought it quite unnecessary, and hadhe dared he would have refused to join in the senseless deception. Butin this matter he had ceased to trust his own judgment, and, muchagainst his will, was allowing the Cardinal to take the lead. He feltout of his own intellectual depths in this slough of intrigue wherein hehad so impulsively ventured, and out of which he now felt incapable ofextricating himself.
Simple-minded and loyal to the core, he had a horror of any treacheryagainst his friend. No other consideration would ever have prompted himto join in an underhand scheme with the Spanish Cardinal, save his ownearnest faith in the ultimate good which would accrue therefrom, both tothe country at large and to Wessex himself. With his whole heart andsoul he believed that, at this moment, the Duke's marriage with LadyUrsula Glynde would be nothing short of a national calamity.
Reluctantly, he sat down to the board at last. His Eminence, opposite tohim, was shading his face with his delicate white hand, and at firstseemed absorbed in the intricacies of the game. Two servitors were stillbusy about the room. One of them asked if His Eminence would desire morelight.
But the Cardinal preferred the fitful flicker of a few wax tapers. Heliked the fantastic shadows which left the greater part of the vastchamber in gloom. Lord Everingham was a noted and very proficientplayer; His Eminence was enjoying the game thoroughly.
"Check to your king, my lord Cardinal," said the young Englishman atlast.
"Only a temporary check, you see, my lord," rejoined His Eminence, aswith slender, tapering fingers he moved one of the ivory pieces on theboard. "By the help of this one little pawn, the safety of the wholecombination is assured, and 'tis your knight now which is in seriousdanger."
"Not serious, I think, Your Eminence, and once more check to your king."
Even as he spoke the two servitors finally left the room, closing theheavy doors noiselessly behind them.
"Oh!" said the Cardinal thoughtfully, "this will necessitate a boldermove on my part. You mark, my son," he added as soon as he had made amove, "how beautifully Nature herself plays into our hands: you and Idesired to part His Grace of Wessex effectually and for ever from hisbeautiful affianced bride. Two hours ago this seemed impossible, andlo!--a girl comes across our path: low-born, brainless, probably awanton, yet the very physical counterpart of virtuous Lady Ursula,and----"
"Check," said Everingham drily, as he moved his castle.
"Nay! nay! we'll once more move this little pawn," rejoined HisEminence, with his usual pleasant benevolence, "and see how simple theplan becomes."
"'Tis of that plan I longed to hear."
"So you shall, my son, so you shall," said the Cardinal very kindly."What would you wish to know?"
"The girl Mirrab?--Where is she?"
"In Don Miguel de Suarez rooms, dressing herself in quaint finery,collected for the purpose by my faithful servant Pasquale, who has avaluable female friend in the Queen's own entourage. A silk kirtle, richwhite robes, some fantastic ornaments for the hair, and the likeness'twixt our Mirrab and the high-born Lady Ursula will be more strangelyapparent than ever. Your turn to move, my lord. I pray you do not losethe thread of this interesting game."
"'Tis easy enough to lose oneself in the mazes of Your Eminence'sdiplomacy," quoth the young man anxiously. "Having dressed the girl upin all that finery, what do you propose to do?"
His Eminence was silent for awhile; he seemed absorbed in an elaboratestrategical combination, directed against his opponent's king. Then hemoved his queen right across the board and said quietly--
"What do I propose to do, my lord? Only, with the aid of that diplomacywhich you English affect to despise, contrive that His Grace of Wessexshould see a lady--whom he will naturally mistake for the Lady UrsulaGlynde--in a highly compromising situation, and the love idyll begunthis afternoon will abruptly end to-night."
"But how?"
"Ah, my lord! surely we must trust Chance a little. The fickle jade hasserved us well already."
"I'll not allow a pure woman's reputation to be sullied by any dastardlytrick . . ." began Everingham hotly.
"Pray, my lord, what is your definition of a dastardly trick?" rejoinedHis Eminence suavely. "Is it the use made by a political opponent ofevery means, fair or foul, to accomplish his own aims, which heconsiders great and just? or is it the work of a friend--an intimate,confidential friend--joining issue for the like purpose? Nay, nay!understand me, my dear lord," he added, with an infinity of gentlekindliness expressed in the almost paternal tone of his voice, "'twasnot I, remember, who ever thought to blame you. Your aims and ambitionsare as selfless as mine own: for the moment our purpose is the same.Will you honour me by allowing me to show you the way of attaining thatpurpose, quickly and surely? I'll not ask you to lend me a hand. I wouldgladly have kept from you the knowledge of my own intricate diplomacy.Why should you fear for the Lady Ursula? Is her reputation in your eyesof greater moment than the success of your schemes?--yours and all yourfaction, remember."
"Ah! there you have me, my lord," rejoined Everingham with a sigh. "AllEngland is at one with us in a burning desire to see Wessex wedded toour Queen. But this is where your diplomacy escapes me. Once Wessex isturned away from the Lady Ursula, he will, we hope, naturally turn tothe Queen, who loves him passionately, and . . . Check!" he added,moving one of his pieces.
"Ah! you press me hard. Your lordship is a skilful player," said theCardinal, intently studying the board. "As for me, you see I seem tomove my pawns somewhat aimlessly. For the moment, I wish to part HisGrace of Wessex from Lady Ursula . . . after that--we shall see."
Everingham was silent. A truly bitter conflict was raging in his simpleheart. Loyalty to his friend, love for his country, and an overwhelminganxiety for its welfare, cried out loudly within him. The very thoughtof meeting Wessex face to face at this moment was terrible to him, andyet he would not undo what he had already done, and would not thwart theSpaniard's tortuous schemes by betraying them to the Duke.
The purpose which he had in view blinded him to everything save the hopeof its ultimate achievement. At this moment he felt that, if Wessexshared Mary Tudor's throne with her, so much that was great and goodwould come to England thereby, that all petty considerations oftemporary disloyalty, or the reputation of one innocent woman, wouldquickly vanish into insignificance.
The very feelings of remorse and of shame which he was experiencing atthis moment strengthened him in his faith, for he was suffering keenlyand acutely to the very depths of his honest heart, and he imagined thathe was earning a crown of martyrdom thereby; he believed that bytrampling on his own prejudices and jeopardizing his friendship with theman he loved and honoured best in all the world, he was adding to thecause, which he held to be sacred, the additional lustre ofself-sacrifice.
His Eminence no doubt knew all this. With his intimate knowledge of thefoibles of mankind, he found it an easy task enough to probe the innerthoughts of the transparent soul before him. He divined the young man'sdoubts and fears, the battle waged within him betwixt an abstrusepolitical aim and his own upright nature. The game was continued insilence, Everingham's state of mind being revealed in the one bittersigh--
"Ah! I go away with a heavy heart, feeling that I have helped to commita treachery."
The Cardinal looked benevolently compassionate. At heart he was morethan glad to think that this blundering Englishman would be well out ofthe way. Could he have foreseen the marvellous turn by which Fate meantto aid him in his intrigue, he would never have made overtures to soclumsy an ally as Lord Everingham. But at the time he had been driveninto a corner through the furious jealousy of the Queen, who hadwell-nigh staggered him.
His Eminence then did not know how to act. For the first time in hislife he had been completely outwitted by the events which he himself hadhelped to bring about. They had shaped themselves in exact opposition tohis keenest expectations. How to part Wessex from Lady Ursula, with whomhis volatile Grace was probably by then more than half in love, becamean almost insolvable problem.
The Queen's ultimatum was almost a fiat. His Eminence saw himself andhis retinue ignominiously quitting the English Court andreturning--baffled, vanquished, humbled--to the throne of an infuriatedmonarch, who never forgave and always knew how to punish.
In despair the Cardinal had turned to an ally. He knew that His Gracewas quite inaccessible. Towards all the foreign ambassadors the Duke ofWessex was always ensconced behind a barrier of unbendable hauteur andof frigid reserve. It would have been impossible to attack the lady ofhis choice openly, and in offering his own help to Everingham HisEminence vaguely hoped to arrive at some half-hidden mystery, a secretperhaps in His Grace's life which would have helped him to strike in thedark.
Then Fate interposed: exactly ten minutes too late, and when theCardinal had already saddled himself with an over-scrupulous,vacillating, ultra-honest ally. He could not now throw him over withoutendangering the success of his own schemes, and therefore brought allhis powers of dissimulation into play to effectually hide the impatiencewhich he felt.
The entrance of Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, created a diversion.
"Ah, my dear Marquis," said His Eminence, with a sigh of relief, "yourarrival is most opportune. I pray you help me to persuade LordEveringham that we are not scheming black treachery against His Grace ofWessex."
Don Miguel came forward, a smile of the keenest satisfaction upon hislips.
"Why treachery?" he said lightly.
But Everingham, having heard all that there was to know, was now in ahurry to depart. Having made up his mind to go through with his purposeto the end, he had but one wish--to turn his back upon the events whichhe had helped to bring about, and let them take their course.
With it all he felt a keen antipathy for these two plotters who haddrawn him into their net. Whilst acting in concert with these Spaniards,he had an overwhelming desire to insult them or throw his contempt intheir smooth, clever faces.
"Check and mate, my lord Cardinal," he said drily, as he took advantageof His Eminence's absence of mind to bring the game to a successfulclose. Then he rose to go. He was already booted and spurred for hisjourney northwards, and had unhitched his sword-belt when settling downto play. Whilst he was buckling it on again, Don Miguel approached him.
"I entreat you, milor, do not talk of treachery," said the youngSpaniard earnestly. "Believe me that in this matter, your conscience isov
er-sensitive. After all, what does His Eminence propose? Only this,that for a little while--a few days only perhaps--His Grace of Wessexshould be led to believe, through the testimony of his own eyes, thatthe Lady Ursula Glynde is not altogether worthy to become Duchess ofWessex. The wench Mirrab will play her part unconsciously, and thereforeto perfection. No one but His Grace shall be witness of the scene whichwe propose to enact, and though his disenchantment will be complete, doyou think that he will greatly suffer thereby? Surely you do not imaginethat he has fallen seriously in love with Lady Ursula in one hour: hisown amour-propre will suffer a very transitory pang _et tout sera dit_."
"The Duke of Wessex will never break his heart or quarrel with a friendfor the sake of a woman," added the Cardinal in his smooth, gentlevoice.
"Like the bee, His Grace lingers over a flower only whilst he finds theperfume sweet," continued Don Miguel. "If he thinks the Lady Ursulafalse, he will turn to some other pretty maid with an indulgent smilefor woman's frailty."
All this sounded plausible enough, and Lord Everingham, at war with hisown conscience, was only too willing to be persuaded that he was in noway wronging his friend. One scruple, however, still held him back andwould not be denied.
"There is one person in all this, my lord Marquis," he said, "whom Inotice you and His Eminence scarce trouble to think about."
"Who is that, milor?"
"The Lady Ursula Glynde!"
"Bah! What of her?"
"A girl's reputation, my lord, is in England held to be sacred."
"Why should her reputation suffer? Who will gossip of this affair? You?I'll not believe it! His Grace of Wessex?--perish the thought. Nay! tosatisfy that over-sensitive conscience of yours, milor, may I remindyou that you are not pledged to secrecy. If on your return from Scotlandyou find that the Lady Ursula's reputation has suffered in any waythrough the little scheme which we purpose, you will be at liberty toright the innocent and to confound the guilty. Is that not so, YourEminence?"
"You have said it, my son," replied the Cardinal.
"Well, are you satisfied, milor?" queried Don Miguel, who at animpatient sign from the Cardinal was courteously leading Everinghamtowards the door.
"I feel somewhat easier in my mind, perhaps," responded the young man."I dare admit that His Eminence and yourself are more right in yoursurmises than I am. But I have the honour of calling His Grace of Wessexmy friend, and I have an earnest wish in my heart that I could stayanother twenty-four hours here, to see that no grievous harm come to himfrom all this."
With a heavy sigh he finally took up his cloak and bade adieu to the twoSpaniards.
Don Miguel escorted him as far as the cloisters, until a servitor tookcharge of his lordship. Then he turned back to the audience chamber,where he found His Eminence sitting placidly in a high-backed arm-chair.
"Marry! this was the most unprofitable half-hour I have ever spent in mylife," quoth the Cardinal with a half-smothered yawn, and speaking inhis own native tongue. "These English are indeed impossible with theirscruples and their conscience, their friendships and their prejudices.Carramba! what would become of Europe if such follies had to be panderedto?"
"By the Mass! 'tis a mighty lucky chance which hath sent that blunderingyoung fool to the frozen kingdom of Scotland to-night," rejoined DonMiguel with a laugh.
"Chance, my son, is an obedient slave and a cruel mistress. Let us yokeher to our war-chariot whilst she seems amenable to our schemes. I'llnow retire to chapel and read my breviary there until Her Majesty hathneed of me for her evening orisons. Her curiosity will not allow her todispense with my services to-night, though she showed me the coldshoulder throughout the banquet. There's a good deal which devolves uponyou, my son. Seek out His Grace of Wessex as soon as you can for thespecial interview which we have planned. I pray you be light-hearted andnatural. It should not be a difficult task for Don Miguel de Suarez toplay the part of a young and callous reprobate. I, the while, will watchmy opportunity, and will have our dramatic little scene well inrehearsal by the time the Duke retires to his own apartments. He mustcross this audience chamber to reach them. . . . There shall be nogarish light . . . only an open window and the moon if she will favourus. . . . One short glimpse at the wench shall be sufficient. . . . Iwill contrive that it be brief but decisive. . . . Your talk with HisGrace will have paved the way. . . . I will contrive . . . Chance willaid me, but I _will_ contrive."
The voice was changed. It was no longer suave now, but harsh anddetermined, cruel too in its slow, cold monotones. His Eminence pausedawhile, then said more quietly--
"What is the wench doing now?"
"Gazing in wrapt admiration at her own face in the mirror," replied DonMiguel lightly, "and incessantly talking of the Duke of Wessex, whom shevows she will see before the dawn. She mutters a good deal about thestars, and some danger which she says threatens her dear lord. Ha! ha!ha!"
His laugh sounded hoarse and bitter, and there was a glimmer of hatredin his deep-set, dark Spanish eyes. There was obviously no love losthere 'twixt His Grace and these schemers, for His Eminence's blandunctuousness looked just now as dangerous as the younger man's hate.
"Does she talk intelligently?" asked the Cardinal.
"Intelligently? No!" quoth Don Miguel. "Awhile ago she talkedintelligibly enough, but three bumpers of heavy Spanish wine have addledher feeble wits by now. I doubt me but the wench was always half crazed.I thought so when I saw her in that booth, covered with tinsel anduttering ridiculous incantations."
"She might prove dangerous too," remarked His Eminence softly.
"To the man who thwarted her--yes!"
"Then, if His Grace should find out the deception, and, mayhap, werenone too lenient with her, she would . . ."
He did not complete the sentence, and after a moment or two saidblandly--
"In either case, meseems, chance is bound to favour us. Our goodPasquale shall see that the wench is provided with a short dagger, eh?. . . of English make . . . and with unerring and . . . poisoned blade.. . . What? . . ."
There was silence between the two men after that. The thought which nowreigned in both their minds was too dark to be put into more precisewords.
Don Miguel took up a cloak, which was lying on a chair, and wrapped itround him. His Eminence drew a breviary from his pocket and settledhimself more comfortably in the high-backed chair. Don Miguel turned togo, but at the door he paused and came back close to where the Cardinalwas sitting. Then he said quietly--
"Is Your Eminence prepared for _that_ eventuality too?"
"We must always be prepared for any eventuality, my son," replied theCardinal gently.
Then he became absorbed in his breviary, whilst Don Miguel slowlystrolled out of the room.