Part 37 (2/2)
Culverhouse laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
”I say not that, for they tell us it will be many years ere we can hope to be wed again in due form; and waiting is weary work.”
”And why should you wait?”
Culverhouse laughed again.
”That is soon answered. My father has always told me that I must wed a lady of wealth if I am to wed young. Our estates are enc.u.mbered. We have more state to keep up than we well know how to manage. We have had troubles and losses even as the Trevlyns have. I have known this well. I cannot complain of my father. Nevertheless I chose my Kate without any dowry before all the world beside, and I am prepared to abide by my choice. But we shall have to wait; we shall have to possess our souls in patience. They all tell us that; and I gainsay them not. I am young. I have friends in high places. I will win a name for myself, and a fortune too, ere my head be gray. Alas for the old days of chivalry, when men might ride forth to fame and glory, and win both that and wealth in a few short years! Those bright days are gone for ever. Still methinks I will conquer fate yet!”
Culverhouse looked as though fitted indeed for some career of chivalrous daring. He and Cuthbert would gladly have ridden forth together upon some knightly quest; but the days for such things had gone by, as both recognized with a sigh. Still there was brightness in Cuthbert's eyes as he said:
”Mistress Kate will spend her Christmas at the Cross Way House, and I trow that others of the Trevlyns will do the like. If thou wilt be one of the party there upon that day, I doubt not that there will be a welcome for thee; and perchance thou wilt find then that thy nuptials need not be so long postponed. A golden key may be found which will unlock many doors.”
Culverhouse looked quickly and eagerly at his companion, but could ask no more even had he wished, as they were at that moment joined by two friends of his, young men about the Court, who at once began to talk of the approaching opening of Parliament and the grand show that would accompany the act.
The King's love for fine dress, fine pageants, and fine shows, of which he was the sun and centre (in his own opinion at least), was well known by this time. These young sprigs of the n.o.bility amused themselves by making game freely of his Majesty behind his back, ridiculing his vanity, mimicking his ungainly action, especially upon horseback (though he considered himself a most finished and accomplished rider), and describing to Culverhouse the fine new robes he had ordered for the occasion, and which were to surpa.s.s in grandeur anything he had ever worn before.
”Folks talked of the vanity of our good Queen Bess, and called her mighty extravagant; but beshrew me if she were half as vain or extravagant as our n.o.ble King Jamie! It is a marvel he cannot see how ten-fold uglier he makes his ugly person by trapping himself out in all such frippery and gorgeous apparel.”
So the young men chatted on in lightsome fas.h.i.+on, and Cuthbert, who listened to every word, could not gather that the smallest uneasiness had penetrated the minds of those who moved in these high places. Culverhouse talked with equal gaiety and security. Certainly he had no suspicion of coming ill. The mutterings of discontent the seething of the troubled waters, the undefined apprehensions of many of the cla.s.ses of the people, were apparently unknown and unheeded here. All was suns.h.i.+ne and brightness in the region of palaces. But if these youths had entertained any secret misgivings, they would have discussed them freely together.
Culverhouse kept Cuthbert to dinner, and he was kindly received by the Earl's family. Lady Andover even remembered to ask after Cherry, and won Cuthbert's heart by so doing. She questioned him in private about the marriage in the church porch, of which he had been witness, and plainly all he told her only went to strengthen her conviction that the matter had gone too far to admit of any drawing back without some breach of faith that was akin to sacrilege.
After the meal, which seemed stately and long to Cuthbert, Culverhouse asked him would he like to see the Houses of Parliament, where the King would shortly meet his Lords and Commons. Cuthbert eagerly a.s.sented, and the two youths spent some time in wandering about the stately buildings, to which Culverhouse could obtain easy admittance; the Viscount explaining to his companion where the King sat and where his immediate counsellors, to all of which Cuthbert listened with marked attention.
There were several attendants and ushers within the building, and Culverhouse told him that orders had been given to keep strict watch over the building both by night and day.
”The King is not like our good Queen--Heaven rest her soul!” said the Viscount, laughing. ”He does not trust his people. He is always in fear of some mischance either through accident or design. Well may the great Shakespeare have said: 'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!' Albeit the King would do better to have a little more courage.”
This was the first word Cuthbert had heard of any uneasiness in high quarters, and he asked with some eagerness:
”Meanest thou that the King fears some evil to himself at this time?”
”No; I have heard naught of that. The country seems unwontedly quiet. It is the fear which never leaves him--the fear that makes him wear a doublet so thickly quilted that it would suffice to turn the sharpest blade, even as a suit of chain mail. He is always dreading a.s.sa.s.sination. That is why he wills such close watch to be kept, lest haply any evil-disposed person might find hiding within the walls and spring upon him unawares. Methinks it is an unkingly fear, but there it be, and he carries it ever with him. The Queen had none such--nor had she need; and as thou knowest, when once an a.s.sa.s.sin did approach her when she was alone in her garden, the glance of her eye kept him cowed and at bay till her gentlemen could hasten to her side. She was a Queen in very truth! I would we had more of her like!”
Culverhouse spoke out aloud, careless of being overheard, for he was but speaking the thoughts of the whole nation. Cuthbert echoed his wish with all sincerity; and still looking round and about him with keen interest, went through a certain mental calculation which caused him at last to ask:
”And what buildings lie around or beneath this?”
”I know not exactly how that may be. There is a house close beside this where methinks I have heard that Master Thomas Percy dwells, the steward to my Lord of Northumberland. I know not what lies beneath; it may be some sort of cellar.
”Dost thou know, fellow, whether there be cellars beneath this place?”
Culverhouse spoke to a man-at-arms who appeared to be on duty there, and who had for some moments been regarding Cuthbert with close scrutiny, and had now drawn slowly near them. Cuthbert was vaguely aware that the man's face was in some way familiar to him, but he had no recollection where he had seen him before.
”Master Thomas Percy has rented the cellar beneath, where his coals be stored,” answered the man carelessly; and Cuthbert, who had asked the question rather haphazard and without exactly knowing why, moved away to examine a piece of fine carving close at hand.
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