Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE MONOGRAMS.

  When Cicely had been carried into a chamber by Master Talbot, and laidhalf-conscious and moaning on the grand carved bed, Mrs. Talbot by wordand gesture expelled all superfluous spectators. She would havepreferred examining alone into the injury sustained by the maiden,which she did not think beyond her own management; but there was norefusing the services of Maitre Gorion, or of Mrs. Kennedy, who indeedtreated her authoritatively, assuming the direction of the sick-room.She found herself acting under their orders as she undid the boddice,while Mrs. Kennedy ripped up the tight sleeve of the riding dress, andlaid bare the arm and shoulder, which had been severely bruised andtwisted, but neither broken nor dislocated, as Mrs. Kennedy informedher, after a few rapid words from the Frenchman, unintelligible to theEnglish lady, who felt somewhat impatient of this invasion of herprivileges, and was ready to say she had never supposed any such thing.

  The chirurgeon skipped to the door, and for a moment she hoped that shewas rid of him, but he had only gone to bring in a neat case with whichhis groom was in waiting outside, whence he extracted a lotion andsponge, speaking rapidly as he did so.

  "Now, madam," said Jean Kennedy, "lift the lassie, there, turn back herboddice, and we will bathe her shouther. So! By my halidome!"

  "Ah! Mort de ma vie!"

  The two exclamations darted simultaneously from the lips of theScottish nurse and the French doctor. Susan beheld what she had at themoment forgotten, the curious mark branded on her nursling's shoulder,which indeed she had not seen since Cicely had been of an age to havethe care of her own person, and which was out of the girl's own sight.No more was said at the moment, for Cis was reviving fast, and was somuch bewildered and frightened that she required all the attention andsoothing that the two women could give, but when they removed the restof her clothing, so that she might be laid down comfortably to rest,Mrs. Kennedy by another dexterous movement uncovered enough of theother shoulder to obtain a glimpse of the monogram upon it.

  Nothing was spoken. Those two had not been so many years attendants ona suspected and imprisoned queen without being prudent and cautious;but when they quitted the apartment after administering a febrifuge,Susan felt a pang of wonder, whether they were about to communicatetheir discovery to their mistress. For the next quarter of an hour,the patient needed all her attention, and there was no possibility ofobeying the summons of a great clanging bell which announced dinner.When, however, Cis had fallen asleep it became possible to think overthe situation. She foresaw an inquiry, and would have given much for afew words with her husband; but reflection showed her that the onepoint essential to his safety was not to betray that he and she had anyprevious knowledge of the rank of their nursling. The existence of thescroll might have to be acknowledged, but to show that Richard haddeciphered it would put him in danger on all hands.

  She had just made up her mind on this point when there was a knock atthe door, and Mrs. Kennedy bore in a salver with a cup of wine, andtook from an attendant, who remained outside, a tray with some moresolid food, which she placed on the broad edge of the deep-set window,and coming to the bedside, invited Mrs. Talbot to eat, while shewatched the girl. Susan complied, though with little appetite, andMrs. Kennedy, after standing for a few minutes in contemplation, cameto the window. She was a tall woman, her yellow hair softened by anadmixture of gray, her eyes keen and shrewd, yet capable of greattenderness at times, her features certainly not youthful, but not awhit more aged than they had been when Susan had first seen herfourteen years ago. It was a quiet mouth, and one that gave a sense oftrust both in its firmness, secrecy, and kindness.

  "Madam," said she, in her soft Scotch voice, lowered considerably, butnot whispering, and with her keen eyes fixed on Susan--"Madam, whatgarred ye gie your bit lassie yonder marks? Ye need not fear, thatdraught of Maister Gorion's will keep her sleeping fast for a good houror two longer, and it behoves me to ken how she cam by yonder brands."

  "She had them when she came to us," said Susan.

  "Ye'll no persuade me that they are birth marks," returned MistressJean. "Such a thing would be a miracle in a loyal Scottish Catholic'swean, let alone an English heretic's."

  "No," said Susan, who had in fact only made the answer to give herselftime to think whether it were possible to summon her husband. "Theynever seemed to me birth marks."

  "Woman," said Jean Kennedy, laying a strong, though soft hand, on herwrist, "this is not gear for trifling. Is the lass your ain bairn? Ha!I always thought she had mair of the kindly Scot than of the Southronabout her. Hech! so they made the puir wean captive! Wha gave hertill you to keep? Your lord, I trow."

  "The Lord of heaven and earth," replied Susan. "My husband took her,the only living thing left on a wreck off the Spurn Head."

  "Hech, sirs!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy, evidently much struck, but stillexercising great self-command. "And when fell this out?"

  "Two days after Low Sunday, in the year of grace 1568," returned Susan.

  "My halidome!" again ejaculated Jean, in a low voice, crossing herself."And what became of honest Ailie--I mean," catching herself up, "whatbefell those that went with her?"

  "Not one lived," said Susan, gravely. "The mate of my husband's shiptook the little one from the arms of her nurse, who seemed to have beenleft alone with her by the crew, lashed to the wreck, and to have hadher life freshly beaten out by the winds and waves, for she was stillwarm. I was then lying at Hull, and they brought the babe to me, whilethere was still time to save her life, with God's blessing."

  "And the vessel?" asked Jean.

  "My husband held it to be the Bride of Dunbar, plying between that portand Harfleur."

  "Ay! ay! Blessed St. Bride!" muttered Jean Kennedy, with anawe-stricken look; then, collecting herself, she added, "Were there notokens, save these, about the little one, by which she could be known?"

  "There was a gold chain with a cross, and what you call a reliquaryabout her little neck, and a scroll written in cipher among herswaddling bands; but they are laid up at home, at Bridgefield."

  It was a perplexing situation for this simple-hearted and truthfulwoman, and, on the other hand, Jean Kennedy was no less devoted andloyal in her own line, a good and conscientious woman, but shrewder,and, by nature and breeding, far less scrupulous as to absolute truth.

  The one idea that Susan, in her confusion, could keep hold of was thatany admission of knowledge as to who her Cis really was, would be abetrayal of her husband's secret; and on the other hand she saw thatMrs. Kennedy, though most keen to discover everything, and no doubtconvinced that the maiden was her Queen's child, was bent on notdisclosing that fact to the foster-mother.

  She asked anxiously whether Mistress Cicely knew of her being only anadopted child, and Susan replied that they had intended that she nevershould learn that she was of alien birth; but that it had been revealedby the old sailor who had brought her on board the Mastiff, though noone had heard him save young Humfrey and the girl herself, and they hadbeen, so far as she knew, perfectly reserved on the subject.

  Jean Kennedy then inquired how the name of Cicely had been given, andwhether the child had been so baptized by Protestant rites.

  "Wot you who the maid may be, madam?" Susan took courage to ask; butthe Scotswoman would not be disconcerted, and replied,

  "How suld I ken without a sight of the tokens? Gin I had them, maybe Imight give a guess, but there was mony a leal Scot sairly bestead, wifeand wean and all, in her Majesty's cause that wearie spring."

  Here Cis stirred in her sleep, and both women were at her side in amoment, but she did not wake.

  Jean Kennedy stood gazing at the girl with eagerness that she did notattempt to conceal, studying each feature in detail; but Cis showed inher sleep very little of her royal lineage, which betrayed itself farmore in her gait and bearing than in her features. Susan could nothelp demanding of the nurse whether she saw any resemblance that couldshow the maiden's parentage. />
  The old lady gave a kind of Scotch guttural sound expressive ofdisappointment, and said, "I'll no say but I've seen the likebeetle-broo. But we'll waken the bairn with our clavers. I'll awaythe noo. Maister Gorion will see her again ere night, but it were illto break her sleep, the puir lassie!"

  Nevertheless, she could not resist bending over and kissing thesleeper, so gently that there was no movement. Then she left the room,and Susan stood with clasped hands.

  "My child! my child! Oh, is it coming on thee? Wilt thou be takenfrom me! Oh, and to what a fate! And to what hands! They will nevernever love thee as we have done! O God, protect her, and be herFather."

  And Susan knelt by the bed in such a paroxysm of grief that herhusband, coming in unshod that he might not disturb the girl,apprehended that she had become seriously worse.

  However, his entrance awoke her, and she found herself much better, andwas inclined to talk, so he sat down on a chest by the bed, and relatedwhat Diccon had told him of the reappearance of the woman with thebasket of spar trinkets.

  "Beads and bracelets," said Cicely.

  "Ay?" said he. "What knowest thou of them?"

  "Only that she spake the words so often; and the Queen, just ere thatdoctor began his speech, asked of me whether she did not sell beads andbracelets."

  "'Tis a password, no doubt, and we must be on our guard," said Richard,while his wife demanded with whom Diccon had seen her speaking.

  "With Gorion," returned he. "That was what made the lad suspectsomething, knowing that the chirurgeon can barely speak three sentencesin any tongue but his own, and those are in their barbarous Scotch. Itook the boy with me and inquired here, there, and everywhere thisafternoon, but could find no one who had ever seen or heard of any onelike her."

  "Tell me, Cis," exclaimed Susan, with a sudden conviction, "was shelike in any fashion to Tibbott the huckster-woman who brought youngBabington into trouble three years agone?"

  "Women's heads all run on one notion," said Richard. "Can there be nosecret agents save poor Cuthbert, whom I believe to be beyond seas?"

  "Nay, but hear what saith the child?" asked Susan.

  "This woman was not nearly so old as Tibbott," said Cis, "nor did shewalk with a staff, nor had she those grizzled black brows that werewont to frighten me."

  "But was she tall?" asked Susan.

  "Oh yes, mother. She was very tall--she came after Diccon and me withlong strides--yet it could never have been Tibbott!"

  Susan had reasons for thinking otherwise, but she could not pursue thesubject at that time, as she had to go down to supper with her husband,and privacy was impossible. Even at night, nobody enjoyed extensivequarters, and but for Cicely's accident she would have slept with Dyot,the tirewoman, who had arrived with the baggage, which included apallet bed for them. However, the young lady had been carried to achamber intended for one of Queen Mary's suite; and there it wasdecreed that she should remain for the night, the mother sleeping withher, while the father and son betook themselves to the room previouslyallotted to the family. Only on the excuse of going to take out herhusband's gear from the mails was Susan able to secure a few words withhim, and then by ordering out Diccon, Dyot, and the serving-man. Thenshe could succeed in saying, "Mine husband, all will soon out--MistressKennedy and Master Gorion have seen the brands on the child'sshoulders. It is my belief that she of the 'beads and bracelets' badethe chirurgeon look for them. Else, why should he have thrust himselfin for a hurt that women-folk had far better have tended? Now, thatkinsman of yours knew that poor Cis was none of ours, and gave her ahint of it long ago--that is, if Tibbott were he, and not somethingworse."

  Richard shook his head. "Give a woman a hint of a seminary priest indisguise, and she would take a new-born baby for one. I tell thee Iheard that Cuthbert was safe in Paris. But, be that as it may, I trustthou hast been discreet."

  "So I strove to be," said Susan. "Mrs. Kennedy questioned me, and Itold her."

  "What?" sharply demanded her husband.

  "Nought but truth," she answered, "save that I showed no knowledge whothe maid really is, nor let her guess that you had read the scroll."

  "That is well. Frank Talbot was scarce within his duty when he gave methe key, and it were as much as my head were worth to be known to havebeen aware of the matter." To this Susan could only assent, as theywere interrupted by the serving-man coming to ask directions about thebestowal of the goods.

  She was relieved by this short colloquy, but it was a sad and wakefulnight for her as Cicely slept by her side. Her love was too trulymotherly not to be deeply troubled at the claim of one of differingreligion and nation, and who had so uncertain and perilous a lot inwhich to place her child. There was also the sense that all herdearest, including her eldest son, were involved in the web of intriguewith persons far mightier and more unscrupulous than themselves; andthat, however they might strive to preserve their integrity, it wouldbe very hard to avoid suspicion and danger.

  In this temporary abode, the household of the Queen and of the Earl atetogether, in the great hall, and thus while breaking their fast in themorning Jean Kennedy found opportunity to examine Richard Talbot on allthe circumstances of the wreck of the Bride of Dunbar, and the findingof the babe. She was much more on her guard than the day before, andsaid that she had a shrewd suspicion as to who the babe's parents mightbe, but that she could not be certain without seeing the reliquary andthe scroll. Richard replied that they were at home, but made no offerof sending for them. "Nor will I do so," said he to his wife, "unlessI am dealt plainly with, and the lady herself asks for them. Thenshould I have no right to detain them."

  M. Gorion would not allow his patient to leave her room that day, andshe had to remain there while Susan was in attendance on the Queen, whodid not appear to her yet to have heard of the discovery, and who wasentering with zest into the routine of the place, where Dr. Jones mightbe regarded as the supreme legislator.

  Each division of the great bath hall was fitted with drying anddressing room, arranged commodiously according to the degree of thosewho were to use them. Royalty, of course, enjoyed a monopoly, andafter the hot bath, which the Queen took immediately after rising, shebreakfasted in her own apartments, and then came forth, according tothe regimen of the place, by playing at Trowle Madame. A board witharches cut in, just big enough to permit the entrance of the balls usedin playing at bowls was placed on the turf at a convenient distancefrom the player. Each arch was numbered, from one to thirteen, but thenumbers were irregularly arranged, and the game consisted in rollingbowls into the holes in succession, each player taking a single turn,and the winner reaching the highest number first,--being, in fact, asort of lawn bagatelle. Dr. Jones recommended it as good to stretchthe rheumatic joints of his patients, and Queen Mary, an adept at allout-of-door games, delighted in it, though she had refused an offer tohave the lawn arranged for it at Sheffield, saying that it would onlyspoil a Buxton delight. She was still too stiff to play herself, butfound infinite amusement in teaching the new-comers the game, and poorSusan, with her thoughts far away, was scarcely so apt a pupil asbefitted a royal mistress, especially as she missed Mrs. Kennedy.

  When she came back, she found that the dame had been sitting with thepatient, and had made herself very agreeable to the girl by drawing outfrom her all she knew of her own story from beginning to end, havingfirst shown that she knew of the wreck of the Bride of Dunbar.

  "And, mother," said Cis, "she says she is nearly certain that she knowswho my true parents were, and that she could be certain if she saw theswaddling clothes and tokens you had with me. Have you, mother? Inever knew of them."

  "Yes, child, I have. We did not wish to trouble and perturb your mind,little one, while you were content to be our daughter."

  "Ah, mother, I would fain be yours and father's still. They must nottake me from you. But suppose I was some great and noble lord'sdaughter, and had a great inheritance and lordship to give Humfrey!"


  "Alas, child! Scottish inheritances are wont to bring more strife thanwealth."

  Nevertheless, Cis went on supposing and building castles that were painand grief to her foreboding auditor. That evening, however, Richardcalled his wife. It was late, but the northern sunset was only justover, and Susan could wander out with him on the greensward in front ofthe Earl's house.

  "So this is the tale we are to be put off with," he said, "from theQueen herself, ay, herself, and told with such an air of truth that itwould almost make me discredit the scroll. She told me with one of hersweetest smiles how a favourite kinswoman of hers wedded in secret witha faithful follower of hers, of the clan Hepburn. Oh, I assure you itmight have been a ballad sung by a harper for its sadness. Well, thisfellow ventured too far in her service, and had to flee to France tobecome an archer of the guard, while the wife remained and died atLochleven Castle, having given birth to our Cis, whom the Queen in duetime despatched to her father, he being minded to have her bred up in aFrench nunnery, sending her to Dunbar to be there embarked in the Brideof Dunbar."

  "And the father?"

  "Oh, forsooth, the father! It cost her as little to dispose of him asof the mother. He was killed in some brawl with the Huguenots; so thatthe poor child is altogether an orphan, beholden to our care, for whichshe thanked me with tears in her eyes, that were more true than mayhapthe poor woman could help."

  "Poor lady," said Susan. "Yet can it not be sooth indeed?"

  "Nay, dame, that may not be. The cipher is not one that would be usedin simply sending a letter to the father."

  "Might not the occasion have been used for corresponding in secret withFrench friends?"

  "I tell thee, wife, if I read one word of that letter, I read that thechild was her own, and confided to the Abbess of Soissons! I will readit to thee once more ere I yield it up, that is if I ever do.Wherefore cannot the woman speak truth to me? I would be true andfaithful were I trusted, but to be thus put off with lies makes a manready at once to ride off with the whole to the Queen in council."

  "Think, but think, dear sir," pleaded Susan, "how the poor lady ispressed, and how much she has to fear on all sides."

  "Ay, because lies have been meat and drink to her, till she cannotspeak a soothfast word nor know an honest man when she sees him."

  "What would she have?"

  "That Cis should remain with us as before, and still pass for ourdaughter, till such time as these negotiations are over, and sherecover her kingdom. That is--so far as I see--like not to be tilllatter Lammas--but meantime what sayest thou, Susan? Ah! I knew,anything to keep the child with thee! Well, be it so--though if I hadknown the web we were to be wound into, I'd have sailed for the Indieswith Humfrey long ago!"