"Nobody," he said, "calls me to these mysteries--and he leaves me here
to play horse-keeper and child-keeper at once. I could excuse the one,
for I love a good horse naturally; but to be plagued with a bratchet
whelp.--Whence come ye, my fair-favoured little gossip?"
"From the Fens," answered the boy.
"And what didst thou learn there, forward imp?"
"To catch gulls, with their webbed feet and yellow stockings," said the
boy.
"Umph!" said Blount, looking down on his own immense roses. "Nay, then,
the devil take him asks thee more questions."
Meantime Tressilian traversed the full length of the Great Hall,
in which the astonished courtiers formed various groups, and were
whispering mysteriously together, while all kept their eyes fixed on
the door which led from the upper end of the hall into the Queen's
withdrawing apartment. Raleigh pointed to the door. Tressilian knocked,
and was instantly admitted. Many a neck was stretched to gain a view
into the interior of the apartment; but the tapestry which covered
the door on the inside was dropped too suddenly to admit the slightest
gratification of curiosity.
Upon entrance, Tressilian found himself, not without a strong
palpitation of heart, in the presence of Elizabeth, who was walking to
and fro in a violent agitation, which she seemed to scorn to conceal,
while two or three of her most sage and confidential counsellors
exchanged anxious looks with each other, but delayed speaking till her
wrath abated. Before the empty chair of state in which she had been
seated, and which was half pushed aside by the violence with which she
had started from it, knelt Leicester, his arms crossed, and his
brows bent on the ground, still and motionless as the effigies upon a
sepulchre. Beside him stood the Lord Shrewsbury, then Earl Marshal of
England, holding his baton of office. The Earl's sword was unbuckled,
and lay before him on the floor.
"Ho, sir!" said the Queen, coming close up to Tressilian, and stamping
on the floor with the action and manner of Henry himself; "you knew of
this fair work--you are an accomplice in this deception which has been
practised on us--you have been a main cause of our doing injustice?"
Tressilian dropped on his knee before the Queen, his good sense showing
him the risk of attempting any defence at that moment of irritation.
"Art dumb, sirrah?" she continued; "thou knowest of this affair dost
thou not?"
"Not, gracious madam, that this poor lady was Countess of Leicester."