Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"I will return to Crandlemar for the night; call my escort!" said she.
Now it was plain this was a ruse of Constantine's own making, and had
whispered it as she had pretended to read. Buckingham laughed cruelly
and scornfully, provoking smothered mirth from behind the masques of
his followers.
"Thou hadst better set out directly, if thou wouldst gain audience
with the King ere he leaves Whitehall."
"I am in no hurry, to-morrow will do as well. I like not advice
unsought. I'll have none of it. I will go where, when and how as I
please!"
"And coercion smacks of a power residing not in these parts. I am
delegated, Mistress Penwick, to bring thee straightway to the Royal
presence."
"And why, may I ask, am I so called to his Majesty?"
"Thou art a hostage!" and Buckingham took a pinch of snuff with as
much ease and grace as if standing in a crowded drawing-room.
CHAPTER XV
THE EDICT OF BUCKINGHAM
"I--I, a hostage! and who gave me as such, pray?"
"There is not time for further inquisition; we have a long journey
before us. Come, Mistress!"
"Nay, nay, I protest; I'll not go with thee--"
"Mistress Penwick, I beg thee in my own behalf,"--and the Duke bowed
before her so courteously, he half won her good will, then--"and I
command thee in the name of the King," and with these words he put
forth his hand as it were to take that of Katherine. A sword swept
lightly over the maid's fingers, at which the two Dukes drew back with
haughty indignation, which meant that reparation must be immediate for
this insult to those who came upon his Majesty's affairs; for indeed
they feigned well that they were carrying out the King's orders. La
Fosse, having now regained his breath and some strength, essayed to
draw Mistress Penwick from the scene that was about to ensue; but a
young man flung himself between them and drove back the monk at the
point of his sword, thus beginning the fight.
Katherine was well-nigh fainting from actual fear and apprehension.
If she were a hostage, 'twas her duty to go and it might favour her
cause. Doubtless these men were gentlemen, and what matter now who
accompanied her to the King? Adrian had proven himself a knave. Poor,
dear Cedric lay ill of his wound and he could not attend her if he
would. These things flashed through her mind as she watched the flash
of steel. Then on a sudden it came to her who these masqued figures
might be. Her heart gave a great bound, and she sprang into the midst
of those fighting and raised her voice, crying forth,--
"Cease, cease, fight no more; I will go with thee." A priest near her
whispered,--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account