A Ladder of Swords: A Tale of Love, Laughter and Tears

by Gilbert Parker

  X

  Every man, if you bring him to the right point, if you touch him inthe corner where he is most sensitive, where he most lives, as itwere; if you prick his nerves with a needle of suggestion where allhis passions, ambitions, and sentiments are at white heat, willreadily throw away the whole game of life in some mad act out ofharmony with all he ever did. It matters little whether the needleprick him by accident or blunder or design, he will burst all boundsand establish again the old truth that each of us will prove himselfa fool given perfect opportunity. Nor need the occasion of thisrevolution be a great one; the most trivial event may produce thegreat fire which burns up wisdom, prudence, and habit.

  The Earl of Leicester, so long counted astute, clear-headed, and wellgoverned, had been suddenly foisted out of balance, shaken from hisimperious composure, tortured out of an assumed and persistenturbanity, by the presence in Greenwich Palace of a Huguenot exile ofno seeming importance, save what the Medici grimly gave him bydesiring his head. It appeared absurd that the great Leicester, whosenearness to the throne had made him the most feared, most notable,and, by virtue of his opportunities, the most dramatic figure inEngland, should have sleepless nights by reason of a fugitive likeMichel de la Foret. On the surface it was preposterous that he shouldsee in the Queen's offer of service to the refugee evidence that shewas set to grant him special favors; it was equally absurd that heroffer of safety to him on pledge of his turning preacher should seemproof that she meant to have him near her.

  Elizabeth had left the presence-chamber without so much as a glanceat him, though she had turned and looked graciously at the stranger.He had hastily followed her, and thereafter impatiently awaited asummons which never came, though he had sent a message that his hourswere at her Majesty's disposal. Waiting, he saw Angele's fatherescorted from the palace by a Gentleman Pensioner to a lodge in thepark; he saw Michel de la Foret taken to his apartments; he saw theSeigneur of Rozel walking in the palace grounds with such possessionas though they were his own, self-content in every motion of hisbody.

  Upon the instant the great earl was incensed out of all proportion tothe affront of the seigneur's existence. He suddenly hated Lempriereonly less than he hated Michel de la Foret. As he still waitedirritably for a summons from Elizabeth, he brooded on every word andevery look she had given him of late; he recalled her manner to himin the antechapel the day before, and the admiring look she cast onDe la Foret but now. He had seen more in it than mere approval ofcourage and the self-reliant bearing of a refugee of her ownreligion.

  These were days when the soldier of fortune mounted to high places.He needed but to carry the banner of bravery and a busy sword, andhis way to power was not hindered by poor estate. To be gently bornwas the one thing needful, and Michel de la Foret was gently born;and he had still his sword, though he chose not to use it inElizabeth's service. My lord knew it might be easier for a strangerlike De la Foret, who came with no encumbrance, to mount to place inthe struggles of the court, than for an Englishman, whose increasingand ever-bolder enemies were undermining on every hand, to hold hisown.

  He began to think upon ways and means to meet this sudden preferenceof the Queen, made sharply manifest, as he waited in the antechamber,by a summons to the refugee to enter the Queen's apartments. When therefugee came forth again he wore a sword the Queen had sent him, anda packet of Latimer's sermons were under his arm. Leicester wasunaware that Elizabeth herself did not see De la Foret when he wasthus hastily called; but that her lady-in-waiting, the Duke'sDaughter, who figured so largely in the pictures Lempriere drew ofhis experiences at Greenwich Palace, brought forth the sermons andthe sword, with this message from the Queen:

  "The Queen says that it is but fair to the sword to be by Michel dela Foret's side when the sermons are in his hand, that his choicehave every seeming of fairness. For her Majesty says it is still hischoice between the Sword and the Book till Trinity Day."

  Leicester, however, only saw the sword at the side of the refugee andthe gold-bound book under his arm as he came forth, and in a rage heleft the palace and gloomily walked under the trees, denying himselfto every one.

  To seize De la Foret, and send him to the Medici, and then rely onElizabeth's favor for his pardon, as he had done in the past? Thatmight do, but the risk to England was too great. It would be like theQueen, if her temper was up, to demand from the Medici the return ofDe la Foret, and war might ensue. Two women, with two nations behindthem, were not to be played lightly against each other, trusting totheir common-sense and humor.

  As he walked among the trees, brooding with averted eyes, he wassuddenly faced by the Seigneur of Rozel, who also was shaken from hisdiscretion and the best interests of the two fugitives he was boundto protect by a late offence against his own dignity. A seed ofrancor had been sown in his mind which had grown to a great size, andmust presently burst into a dark flower of vengeance. He, Lempriereof Rozel, with three dove-cotes, the _perquage_, and the office ofbutler to the Queen, to be called a "farmer," to be sneered at--itwas not in the blood of man, not in the towering vanity of aLempriere, to endure it at any price computable to mortal mind.

  Thus there were in England on that day two fools (there are as manynow), and one said:

  "My Lord Leicester, I crave a word with you."

  "Crave on, good fellow," responded Leicester, with a look of boredom,making to pass by.

  "I am Lempriere, Lord of Rozel, my lord--"

  "Ah yes, I took you for a farmer," answered Leicester. "Instead ofthat, I believe you keep doves, and wear a jerkin that fits like aking's. Dear Lord, so does greatness come with girth!"

  "The king that gave me dove-cotes gave me honor, and 'tis not for theEarl of Leicester to belittle it."

  "What is your coat of arms?" said Leicester, with a faint smile, butin an assumed tone of natural interest.

  "A swan upon a sea of azure, two stars above, and over all a swordwith a wreath around its point," answered Lempriere, simply,unsuspecting irony, and touched by Leicester's flint where he wasmost like to flare up with vanity.

  "Ah!" said Leicester. "And the motto?"

  "Mea spes supra stellas--my hope is beyond the stars."

  "And the wreath--of parsley, I suppose?"

  Now Lempriere understood, and he shook with fury as he roared:

  "Yes, by God, and to be got at the point of the sword, to put on theheads of insolents like Lord Leicester!" His face was flaming, he waslike a cock strutting upon a stable mound.

  There fell a slight pause, and then Leicester said, "To-morrow atdaylight, eh?"

  "Now, my lord, now!"

  "We have no seconds."

  "'Sblood! 'Tis not your way, my lord, to be stickling in detail ofcourtesy."

  "'Tis not the custom to draw swords in secret, Lempriere of Rozel.Also, my teeth are not on edge to fight you."

  Lempriere had already drawn his sword, and the look of his eyes wasas that of a mad bull in a ring. "You won't fight with me--you don'tthink Rozel your equal?" His voice was high.

  Leicester's face took on a hard, cruel look. "We cannot fight amongthe ladies," he said, quietly.

  Lempriere followed his glance, and saw the Duke's Daughter andanother in the trees near by.

  He hastily put up his sword. "When, my lord?" he asked.

  "You will hear from me to-night," was the answer, and Leicester wentforward hastily to meet the ladies--they had news, no doubt.

  Lempriere turned on his heel and walked quickly away among the treestowards the quarters where Buonespoir was in durance, which waslittle more severe than to keep him within the palace yard. There hefound the fool and the pirate in whimsical converse. The fool hadbrought a letter of inquiry and warm greeting from Angele toBuonespoir, who was laboriously inditing one in return. WhenLempriere entered the pirate greeted him jovially.

  "In the very pinch of time!" he said. "You have grammar and syntaxand etiquette."

  "'Tis even so, Nuncio," said the fool. "Here is needed prosodypotential. Exha
le!"

  The three put their heads together above the paper.