CHAPTER XXXVII
THE CARDINAL'S PUPPETS
His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno knew well how to gauge the moods andtempers of the English people of his time. He had rightly guessed thatthe Duke of Wessex, whom but a few hours ago his countrymen were readyto condemn to a shameful death, would remain the hero of the hour, untilthe enthusiasm of his friends had once more cooled down to a more normalpitch.
Mary Tudor was deeply grateful to the Cardinal, for what she trulybelieved was a wonderful triumph of persuasion over the obstinacy of aguilty conscience. If in her innermost heart she bitterly resented thefact that Wessex owed his acquittal to outside influences rather than tothe will of his Queen, she nevertheless was ready enough to acknowledgehow completely His Eminence had succeeded, and how little ground she hadfor not keeping her share of the momentous compact which she had madewith him.
"If Your Eminence is instrumental in saving His Grace from the block Iwill marry King Philip of Spain!"
That was her bond, and already the Cardinal had claimed its fulfilment.The Queen of England stood definitely pledged to give her hand to PhilipII, King of Spain.
The Spanish alliance, so much dreaded by the patriotic faction ofEngland, was all but an accomplished fact. Bitter disappointment reignedin the hearts of all those who had hoped to see an English peer uponthe English throne. Yet all Wessex' friends were bound to admit thatfrom the very moment when the Duke's acquittal suddenly roused all theirdormant hopes, one look at his face had sufficed to tell them that thosesame hopes had been born but to die again. There stood a man, broken inhealth and spirits, tired of life, without buoyancy or youth, or thatdelightful vigour which had made the name of Wessex sound a note ofgladness throughout the land.
Even as he stepped down from the bar and his adherents showered goodwishes upon him, he looked twenty years older than he had done on thatbright happy day a fortnight ago when, the cynosure of all eyes, themost brilliant ornament of that gorgeous court, he seemed to standsmiling on the steps of the throne, gently dallying with a crown.
Yet Mary Tudor, wilfully forgetting for the moment her pledge to theSpaniards, longing to enjoy these last few hours when she was stillfree, had showered smiles, fetes, honours upon the man she loved, happyto feel his lips pressed upon her hand in loyalty and gratitude.
She had never inquired of him how much real truth there was in the storywhich Ursula Glynde had told in open court. Perhaps she did not care toknow. She was weak enough--woman enough--to rejoice at the thought ofher rival's complete humiliation. She was content to let the events ofthat fateful night remain completely wrapped in mystery. Vaguely shefelt that in some sort of way the elucidation of it would not bealtogether detrimental to Ursula Glynde, at the same time she knew thatnever now could the young girl, who had come between her and the man sheloved, aspire to become Duchess of Wessex.
The scandal had been too great, and unless some unexpected andwonderful thing happened, which would signally clear Ursula's maidenfame, she would for ever remain under the ban of this mystery which hadbesmirched her good name.
Ursula had been quite right when she asserted with bitter sarcasm thatHis Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno seemed to be the prime mover in thegame of puppets, which was now proceeding within the precincts of thePalace. With the royal signature appended to his bond, he felt that hisposition was now impregnable, and he moved about among the English lordsand courtiers as a vice-regent would in the absence of a king.
The fact that a messenger from Scotland had arrived in the morning withnews of the ambassadors to the Queen Regent, without any mention ofeither Lord Pembroke's or Lord Everingham's sudden departure fromthence, had completely calmed any fears he still might have of thelatter's too sudden reappearance at Hampton Court. In any case now hehad still some days before him during which he could consolidate hissuccess, by establishing direct intercourse between King Philip and theQueen of England. He hoped before many hours had elapsed to obtain fromMary Tudor an actual letter, writ in her own hand to her royalbetrothed.
Thus secure in his invulnerable position, the Cardinal had thought itprudent as well as expedient to accede to Ursula's wishes, which seemedvery like commands, and he had used his diplomatic skill to good purposein persuading Mary Tudor to allow the interview between the young girland His Grace.
At the same time His Eminence was sufficiently wary so to manipulate hispuppets that the interview should be of the briefest, and in this he waslike enough to succeed.
It was in order to celebrate the happy return of His Grace to Courtthat the Queen had, at his request, granted a free pardon to all thosewho were to be brought for trial on the same day as the Duke. Twoo'clock in the afternoon of the day following this great event, had beenfixed when all these poor people, vagrants and beggars mostly, one ortwo political prisoners, perhaps, were to thank His Grace for theirfreedom publicly in the grounds of the Palace.
The Cardinal, well aware of this, skilfully working too on the Queen'sstill restive jealousy, had suggested to Mary that Ursula Glynde shouldawait the Duke of Wessex in the hall at fifteen minutes before the hour.
"A quarter of an hour, Your Majesty," he said insinuatingly, when firston that same morning he had broached the subject, "fifteen shortminutes, during which the breach 'twixt His Grace and a disgraced maidencan but be irretrievably widened."
"Your Eminence seems to think that I desire a breach," retorted Marywith Tudor-like haughtiness.
"Far from me even to think such a thought," rejoined the Cardinalblandly; "but as a faithful servant of Your Majesty, soon to become aloyal subject when Your Grace is Queen of Spain, I hold the welfare ofall those whom you deign to honour very much at heart. . . . And I wasthinking of His Grace of Wessex."
"What of him, my lord?"
"The Duke is proud, Your Majesty; would it be well, think you, if a girlof Lady Ursula Glynde's reputation were to become Duchess of Wessex?"
"Think you she hath the desire?"
"_Quien sabe?_" he replied guardedly, "but an Your Majesty will trust myjudgment, a brief interview with His Grace would soon scatter her hopesto the winds."
Thus did this astute diplomatist play upon every fibre of a woman'semotions. His calculations were made to a nicety--only the interviewwhich Ursula had demanded and no more! This to pacify the young girl incase she became defiant, but the meeting itself just short enough toavoid any harm.
At twenty minutes before two, Ursula was bidden to the Great Hall bycommand of Her Majesty. The Duchess of Lincoln--tearful andkind--received her in the great window embrasure. Her motherly heartached to see the bitter sorrow of the beautiful girl, who had been sofull of vitality and merriment a brief fortnight ago.
With a strange instinct, which she herself could not have explained,Ursula had dressed herself all in white. A rich brocaded kirtle andshimmery silken paniers seemed to accentuate the dull pallor of hercheeks. Only her golden hair gave a brilliant note of colour and of lifeto this marble statue, who seemed only to exist through its bluemagnetic eyes.
"The page has gone to bid His Grace of Wessex attend upon you here, mychild," said the good old Duchess, as she took Ursula's cold hands inhers, and mechanically stroked them with her own kind, wrinkled palms.
"Think you he will come?" asked Ursula dully.
"I doubt not but he will, my dear. His Grace owes you his life."
"Yes?"
"But before he comes, my treasure," murmured the dear old soul, "I wouldhave you know that I'll never believe aught, save that you are good andpure. Some day, perhaps, you will love me well enough to tell me thesecret which is gnawing at your heart."
She paused, quite frightened at the expression of intense soul-agonywhich was suddenly apparent in every line of the wan young face.
Ursula bent her tall, graceful figure, and raising the gentle motherlyhands to her hot lips she kissed them with passionate tenderness.
"In God's name, my dear, kind Duchess," she murmured, "do not speak softwords to me. The Ho
ly Virgin has helped me to keep calm; I must notbreak down . . . not now . . . that he is coming."
Now there was the sound of firm footsteps crossing the chamber beyond.Ursula drew herself up, and for a moment a strange, scared expressioncame into her face, then one of intense, yet inexpressible tenderness.
Mutely she beckoned to the old Duchess, who, understanding this earnestappeal, withdrew without uttering another word.
The next moment the door at the further end of the hall was opened. Apage loudly announced--
"His Grace the Duke of Wessex!"
And for the first time since the awful moment when alien intrigues hadparted them, these two, who had so fondly loved, so deeply suffered,were alone, face to face at last.