CHAPTER XVI
THE ULTIMATUM
The envoy of His Holiness had departed.
Mary Tudor had dismissed her ladies, for she wished to speak with theCardinal de Moreno alone.
Throughout the audience with the papal Nuncio, His Eminence had alreadyseen the storm-clouds gathering thick and fast on the Queen's brow. HisGrace of Wessex, gone to fetch a breviary left accidentally on theterrace-coping, had been gone half an hour, and moreover had not yetreturned.
Her Majesty had sent a page to request His Grace's presence. The pagereturned with the intimation that His Grace could not be found.
Someone had spied him in the distance walking towards the river, incompany with a lady dressed in white.
Then the storm-clouds had burst.
The Queen peremptorily ordered every one out of the room, then sheturned with real Tudor-like fury upon His Eminence.
"My lord Cardinal," she said in a quivering voice, which she did noteven try to steady, "an you had your master's wishes at heart, you haveindeed gone the wrong way to work."
The Cardinal's keen grey eyes had watched Mary's growing wrath with muchamusement. What was a woman's wrath to him? Nothing but an asset, anadditional advantage in the political game which he was playing.
Never for a moment did he depart, however, from his attitude of deepestrespect, nor from his tone of suave urbanity.
"I seem to have offended Your Majesty," he said gently; "unwittingly, Iassure you. . . ."
But Mary was in no mood to bandy polite words with the man who hadplayed her this clever trick. She was angered with herself for havingfallen into so clumsy a trap. A thousand suggestions now occurred to herof what she might have done to prevent the meeting between Wessex andUrsula, which the Cardinal had obviously planned.
"Nay! masks off, I pray Your Eminence," she said, "that trick just nowwith your breviary . . . Own to it, man! . . . own to it . . . are younot proud to have tricked Mary Tudor so easily?"
She was trembling with rage, yet looked nigh to bursting into tears. Ashade almost of pity crossed His Eminence's cold and clever face. Itseemed almost wantonly useless to have aided Fate in snatching a youngand handsome lover from this ill-favoured, middle-aged woman.
But the Cardinal never allowed worldly sentiments of any kind tointerfere, for more than one or two seconds, with the object he had inview. The look of pity quickly faded from his eyes, giving place to thesame mask of respectful deference.
"My breviary?" he said blandly. "Nay! I am still at a loss tounderstand. . . . Ah, yes! I remember now. . . . I had left it on thebalustrade. His Grace of Wessex, a pattern of chivalry, offered to fetchit for me, and----"
"A fine scheme indeed, my lord," interrupted the Queen impatiently, "tosend the Duke of Wessex courting after my waiting-maid."
"The Duke of Wessex?" rejoined His Eminence with well-playedastonishment. "Nay, methought I spied him just now in the distance,keeping the vows he once made to the Lady Ursula Glynde."
"I pray you do not repeat that silly fairy-tale. His Grace made nopromise. 'Twas the Earl of Truro desired the marriage, and the Duke hadhalf forgotten this, until Your Eminence chose to interfere."
"Nay! but Your Majesty does me grave injustice. What have the amours ofHis Grace of Wessex to do with me, who am the envoy of His Most CatholicMajesty the King of Spain?"
"'Twere wiser, certainly," retorted Mary coldly, "if the King of Spain'senvoy did not concern himself with rousing the Queen of England'sanger."
His Eminence smiled as amiably, as unconcernedly as before. Throughoutthe length of a very distinguished career he had often been obliged toweather storms of royal wrath. He was none the worse for it, and knewhow to let the floods of princely anger pass over his shrewd head,without losing grip of the ground on which he stood. Nothing everruffled him. Supremely conscious of his own dignity, justly proud of hisposition and attainments, he had, at the bottom of his heart, a completecontempt for those exalted puppets of his own political schemes. MaryTudor, a weak and soured woman, an all-too-ready prey of her ownpassions, swayed hither and thither by her loves and by her hates, wasnothing to this proud prince of the Church but a pawn in a European gameof chess. It was for his deft fingers to move this pawn in the directionin which he list.
"Nay," he said, with gentle suavity, "my only desire is to rouse in theheart of the Queen of England love for my royal master, the King ofSpain. He is young and goodly to look at, a faithful and gallantgentleman, whom it will be difficult to lure from Your Grace's side,once you have deigned to allow him to kneel at your feet."
"You speak, my lord, as if you were sure of my answer."
"Sure is a momentous word, Your Majesty. But I hope----"
"Nay! 'tis not yet done, remember," retorted Mary, with ever-increasingvehemence, "and if this trick of yours should succeed, if Wessex wedsthe Lady Ursula, then I _will_ send my answer to your master, and itshall be 'No!'"
There was a quick, sudden flash in the Cardinal's eye, a look ofastonishment, perhaps, at this unexpected phase of feminine jealousy. Bethat as it may, it was quickly veiled by an expression of pronouncedsarcasm.
"As a trophy for the vanity of His Grace of Wessex?" he asked pointedly.
"No!--merely as a revenge against your interference. So look to it, mylord Cardinal; the tangle in the skein was made by your hand. See thatyou unravel it, or you and the Spanish ambassador leave my Courtto-morrow."
With a curt nod of the head she dismissed him from her presence. He wasfar too shrewd to attempt another word just now. Perhaps for the firsttime in his life he felt somewhat baffled. He had allowed his ownimpatience to outrun his discretion--an unpardonable fault in adiplomatist. He blamed himself very severely for his attempt atbrusquing Fate. Surely time and the Duke's own fastidious dispositionwould have parted him from Mary quite as readily as this sudden meetingwith beautiful Lady Ursula.
The Cardinal had withdrawn from the Queen's presence after an obeisancemarked with deep respect. He wished to be alone to think over this newaspect of the situation. Through the tall bay windows of the Great Hallwhich he traversed, the last rays of the setting sun came slanting in.His Eminence glided along the smooth oak floors, his crimson robesmaking but a gentle frou-frou of sound behind him, a ghostlike,whispering accompaniment to his perturbed thoughts. Somehow the softnessof the evening air lured him towards the terrace and the gardens. Therelacked an hour yet to supper-time, and Mary Tudor was scarce likely tobe in immediate need of His Eminence's company.
He crossed the Clock Tower gates and soon found himself once more on theterrace. The gardens beyond looked tenderly poetic in the fast-gatheringdusk. The Cardinal's shrewd eyes wandered restlessly over the parterresand bosquets, vainly endeavouring to spy the silhouettes of two youngpeople, whom his diplomacy had brought together and whom his shrewd witwould have to part again.
He descended the terrace steps and slowly walked towards the pond,where, but an hour ago, a sweet and poetic idyll had been enacted. Therewas nothing to mark the passage of a fair young dream, born this lovelyOctober afternoon, save a few dead marguerites and the scattered flakesof their snow-white petals.
The Cardinal's footsteps crushed them unheeded. He was thinking how besthe could dispel that dream, which he himself had helped to call forth.
"Woman! woman!" he sighed impatiently as he looked back upon thegraceful outline of the Palace behind him, "thy moods are many and thylogic scant."
"A tangled skein indeed," he mused, "which will take some unravelling.If Wessex weds the Lady Ursula, the Queen will say 'No' to Philip, outof revenge for my interference. She'll turn to Noailles mayhap and wedthe Dauphin to spite me, or keep him and Scheyfne dangling on awhilewhilst trying to reconquer the volatile Duke's allegiance. But if Wessexdoes not wed the Lady Ursula . . . what then? Will his friends prevail?Yet there's more obstinacy than indolence in his composition, I fancy,and the dubious position of King Consort would scarce suit his proudGrace. Still, if I do not succeed in parting those
two young people whommy diplomacy hath brought together, then Mary Tudor sends me and theSpanish Ambassador back to Philip to-morrow."
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