Great Britain -- History -- House of York, 1461-1485 -- Fiction
I hastily dressed myself and repaired unto my friend's quarters. I had
some difficulty in arousing him without disturbing those in the
adjoining apartments; for Harleston admitted that naught but the sound
of the last trump could ever awaken him until he had finished basking
in the sunny smiles of the Goddess of Sleep. As this speech of his
came to my mind I could not help but shudder as I thought of the
treatment that faithfully-worshipped Goddess had bestowed upon me.
Instead of smiling, how cruelly had she frowned.
At length I succeeded in drawing forth a lazy enquiry as to who I was
and what was my business.
"Come, Harleston, bestir thyself, for the love of Heaven. Sleeping at
this time of the day? 'Tis absurd," called I, gently, through the
keyhole.
"Ah! Walter, it is thou," said Harleston, as he opened the door.
"Heigh-ho! why, art thou completely dressed already? What hour is it?"
he asked, as he made a frantic effort to dislocate his shoulders, neck
and jaw, all at one and the same time.
"'Tis almost sun up, and we must be stirring and proceed unto the
Sanctuary before the others do arise, that we may not be observed."
"Ah! a good idea, Bradley. One moment and I will be with thee," he
said, as he began hastily to dress. He was soon ready, so we crossed
over.
The Queen, her family, and the girls, were at matins when we asked to
be permitted to enter; so we were compelled to walk up and down before
the door, and bide our time as best we could until her Majesty had
finished her devotions; for at that time it was even more difficult to
obtain admittance to the Sanctuary than it had been at any other, on
account of her Majesty being within its sacred walls.
At the end of what seemed to us an age, but what in reality must have
been but a very short space, for anxious love makes the moments into
hours, the slide in the door was pushed back and a not unpleasant voice
asked what names we might wish to send unto the Queen.
"Sir Frederick Harleston and Sir Walter Bradley, but late returned from
Ludlow with the King, pray to be admitted to the presence of the Queen,
as we have information that is of importance to her Majesty," said I.
Again the sliding panel was closed, and again were we compelled to
struggle with our impatient spirits. But this time it was not for
long. Presently the slide was opened to the width of a lady's hand.
To this opening was applied an eye, beautifully draped with long and
curling, dark brown lashes, through which that orb--the true
transmitter of the workings of the soul--sparkled with expectancy and
love, like a precious jewel held in a gentle shadow. And indeed what
jewel could equal it in preciousness? For it belonged to Hazel. Then
the door flew open, and we were locked in each other's arms in a
shorter space of time than one might draw a breath in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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