It was in the middle of the summer of 1586 that Humfrey and his young brother Richard, in broad grass hats and long feathers, found themselves again in London, Diccon looking considerably taller and leaner than when he went away. For when, after many months' delay, the naval expedition had taken place, he had been laid low with fever during the attack on Florida by Sir Francis Drake's little fleet; and the return to England had been only just in time to save his life. Though Humfrey had set forth merely as a lieutenant, he had returned in command of a vessel, and stood in high repute for good discipline, readiness of resource, and personal exploits. His ship had, however, suffered so severely as to be scarcely seaworthy when the fleet arrived in Plymouth harbour; and Sir Francis, finding it necessary to put her into dock and dismiss her crew, had chosen the young Captain Talbot to ride to London with his despatches to her Majesty.
The commission might well delight the brothers, who were burning to hear of home, and to know how it fared with Cicely, having been absolutely without intelligence ever since they had sailed from Plymouth in January, since which they had plundered the Spaniard both at home and in the West Indies, but had had no letters.
They rode post into London, taking their last change of horses at Kensington, on a fine June evening, when the sun was mounting high upon the steeple of St. Paul's, and speeding through the fields in hopes of being able to reach the Strand in time for supper at Lord Shrewsbury's mansion, which, even in the absence of my Lord, was always a harbour for all of the name of Talbot. Nor, indeed, was it safe to be out after dark, for the neighbourhood of the city was full of roisterers of all sorts, if not of highwaymen and cutpurses, who might come in numbers too large even for the two young gentlemen and the two servants, who remained out of the four volunteers from Bridgefield.
They were just passing Westminster where the Abbey, Hall, and St. Stephen's Chapel, and their precincts, stood up in their venerable but unstained beauty among the fields and fine trees, and some of the Westminster boys, flat-capped, gowned, and yellow-stockinged, ran out with the cry that always flattered Diccon, not to say Humfrey, though he tried to be superior to it, "Mariners! mariners from the Western Main! Hurrah for gallant Drake! Down with the Don!" For the tokens of the sea, in the form of clothes and weapons, were well known and highly esteemed.
Two or three gentlemen who were walking along the road turned and looked up, and the young sailors recognised in a moment a home face. There was an exclamation on either side of "Antony Babington!" and "Humfrey Talbot!" and a ready clasp of the hand in right of old companionship.
"Welcome home!" exclaimed Antony. "Is all well with you?"
"Royally well," returned Humfrey. "Know'st thou aught of our father and mother?"
"All was well with them when last I heard," said Antony.
"And Cis—my sister I mean?" said Diccon, putting, in his unconsciousness, the very question Humfrey was burning to ask.
"She is still with the Queen of Scots, at Chartley," replied Babington.
"Chartley, where is that? It is a new place for her captivity."
"'Tis a house of my Lord of Essex, not far from Lichfield," returned Antony. "They sent her thither this spring, after they had well-nigh slain her with the damp and wretched lodgings they provided at Tutbury."
"Who? Not our Cis?" asked Diccon.
"Nay," said Antony, "it hurt not her vigorous youth—but I meant the long-suffering princess."
"Hath Sir Ralf Sadler still the charge of her?" inquired Humfrey.
"No, indeed. He was too gentle a jailer for the Council. They have given her Sir Amias Paulett, a mere Puritan and Leicestrian, who is as hard as the nether millstone, and well-nigh as dull," said Babington, with a little significant chuckle, which perhaps alarmed one of his companions, a small slight man with a slight halt, clad in black like a lawyer. "Mr. Babington," he said, "pardon me for interrupting you, but we shall make Mr. Gage tarry supper for us."
"Nay, Mr. Langston," said Babington, who was in high spirits, "these are kinsmen of your own, sons of Mr. Richard Talbot of Bridgefield, to whom you have often told me you were akin."
Mr. Langston was thus compelled to come forward, shake hands with the young travellers, welcome them home, and desire to be commended to their worthy parents; and Babington, in the exuberance of his welcome, named his other two companions—Mr. Tichborne, a fine, handsome, graceful, and somewhat melancholy young man; Captain Fortescue, a bearded moustached bravo, in the height of the fashion, a long plume in his Spanish hat, and his short gray cloak glittering with silver lace. Humfrey returned their salute, but was as glad as they evidently were when they got Babington away with them, and left the brothers to pursue their way, after inviting them to come and see him at his lodgings as early as possible.
"It is before supper," said Diccon, sagely, "or I should say Master Antony had been acquainted with some good canary."
"More likely he is uplifted with some fancy of his own. It may be only with the meeting of me after our encounter," said Humfrey. "He is a brave fellow and kindly, but never did craft so want ballast as does that pate of his!"
"Humfrey," said his brother, riding nearer to him, "did he not call that fellow in black, Langston?"
"Ay, Cuthbert Langston. I have heard of him. No good comrade for his weak brain."
"Humfrey, it is so, though father would not credit me. I knew his halt and his eye—just like the venomous little snake that was the death, of poor Foster. He is the same with the witch woman Tibbott, ay, and with her with the beads and bracelets, who beset Cis and me at Buxton."
Young Diccon had proved himself on the voyage to have an unerring eye for recognition, and his brother gave a low whistle. "I fear me then Master Antony may be running himself into trouble."
"See, they turn in mounting the steps to the upper fence of yonder house with the deep carved balcony. Another has joined them! I like not his looks. He is like one of those hardened cavaliers from the Netherlands."
"Ay! who seem to have left pity and conscience behind them there," said Humfrey, looking anxiously up at the fine old gabled house with its projecting timbered front, and doubting inwardly whether it would be wise to act on his old playfellow's invitation, yet with an almost sick longing to know on what terms the youth stood with Cicely.
In another quarter of an hour they were at the gateway of Shrewsbury House, where the porter proved to be one of the Sheffield retainers, and admitted them joyfully. My Lord Earl was in Yorkshire, he said, but my Lord and Lady Talbot were at home, and would be fain to see them, and there too was Master William Cavendish.
They were handed on into the courtyard, where servants ran to take their horses, and as the news ran that Master Richard's sons had arrived from the Indies, Will Cavendish came running down the hall steps to embrace them in his glee, while Lord Talbot came to the door of the hall to welcome them. These great London houses, which had not quite lost their names of hostels or inns, did really serve as free lodgings to all members of the family who might visit town, and above all such travellers as these, bringing news of grand national achievements.
Very soon after Gilbert's accession to the heirship, quarrels had begun between his wife and her mother the Countess.
Lord Talbot had much of his father's stately grace, and his wife was a finished lady. They heartily welcomed the two lads who had grown from boys to men. My lady smilingly excused the riding-gear, and as soon as the dust of travel had been removed they were seated at the board, and called on to tell of the gallant deeds in which they had taken part, whilst they heard in exchange of Lord Leicester's doings in the Netherlands, and the splendid exploits of the Stanleys at Zutphen.
Lord Talbot promised to take Humfrey to Richmond the next day, to be presented to her Majesty, so soon as he should be equipped, so as not to lose his character of mariner, but still not to affront her sensibilities by aught of uncourtly or unstudied in his apparel.
They confirmed what Babington had said of the Queen of Scots' changes of residence and of keepers. As to Cicely, they had been lately so little at Sheffield that they had almost forgotten her, but they thought that if she were still at Chartley, there could be no objection to her brothers having an interview with her on their way home, if they chose to go out of their road for it.
Humfrey mentioned his meeting with Babington in Westminster, and Lord Talbot made some inquiries as to his companions, adding that there were strange stories and suspicions afloat, and that he feared that the young man was disaffected and was consorting with Popish recusants. Diccon's tongue was on the alert with his observation, but at a sign from his brother, who did not wish to get Babington into trouble, he was silent. Cavendish, however, laughed and said he was for ever in Mr. Secretary's house, and even had a room there.
Very early the next morning the body servant of his Lordship was in attendance with a barber and the fashionable tailor of the Court, and in good time Humfrey and Diccon were arrayed in such garments as were judged to suit the Queen's taste, and to become the character of young mariners from the West. Humfrey had a dainty jewel of shell-work from the spoils of Carthagena, entrusted to him by Drake to present to the Queen as a foretaste of what was to come. Lady Talbot greatly admired its novelty and beauty, and thought the Queen would be enchanted with it, giving him a pretty little perfumed box to present it in.
Lord Talbot, well pleased to introduce his spirited young cousins, took them in his boat to Richmond, which they reached just as the evening coolness came on. They were told that her Majesty was walking in the Park, and thither, so soon as the ruffs had been adjusted and the fresh Spanish gloves drawn on, they resorted.
The Queen walked freely there without guards—without even swords being worn by the gentlemen in attendance—loving as she did to display her confidence in her people. No precautions were taken, but they were allowed to gather together on the greensward to watch her, as among the beautiful shady trees she paced along.
The eyes of the two youths were eagerly directed towards her, as they followed Lord Talbot. Was she not indeed the cynosure of all the realm? Did she not hold the heart of every loyal Englishman by an invisible rein? Was not her favour their dream and their reward? She was a little in advance of her suite. Her hair, of that light sandy tint which is slow to whiten, was built up in curls under a rich stiff coif, covered with silver lace, and lifted high at the temples. From this a light gauze veil hung round her shoulders and over her splendid standing ruff, which stood up like the erected neck ornaments of some birds, opening in front, and showing the lesser ruff or frill encircling her throat, and terminating a lace tucker within her low-cut boddice. Rich necklaces, the jewel of the Garter, and a whole constellation of brilliants, decorated her bosom, and the boddice of her blue satin dress and its sleeves were laced with seed pearls. The waist, a very slender one, was encircled with a gold cord and heavy tassels, the farthingale spread out its magnificent proportions, and a richly embroidered white satin petticoat showed itself in front, but did not conceal the active, well-shaped feet. There was something extraordinarily majestic in her whole bearing, especially the poise of her head, which made the spectator never perceive how small her stature actually was. Her face and complexion, too, were of the cast on which time is slow to make an impression, being always pale and fair, with keen and delicately-cut features; so that her admirers had quite as much reason to be dazzled as when she was half her present age; nay, perhaps more, for the habit of command had added to the regality which really was her principal beauty. Sir Christopher Hatton, with a handsome but very small face at the top of a very tall and portly frame, dressed in the extreme of foppery, came behind her, and then a bevy of ladies and gentlemen.
As the Talbots approached, she was moving slowly on, unusually erect even for her, and her face composed to severe majesty, like that of a judge, the tawny eyes with a strange gleam in them fixed on some one in the throng on the grass near at hand. Lord Talbot advanced with a bow so low that he swept the ground with his plume, and while the two youths followed his example, Diccon's quick eye noted that she glanced for one rapid second at their weapons, then continued her steady gaze, never withdrawing it even to receive Lord Talbot's salutation as he knelt before her, though she said, "We greet you well, my good lord. Are not we well guarded, not having one man with a sword near me?"
"Here are three good swords, madam," returned he, "mine own, and those of my two young kinsmen, whom I venture to present to your Majesty, as they bear greetings from your trusty servant, Sir Francis Drake."
While he spoke there had been a by-play unperceived by him, or by the somewhat slow and tardy Hatton. A touch from Diccon had made Humfrey follow the direction of the Queen's eye, and they saw it was fixed on a figure in a loose cloak strangely resembling that which they had seen on the stair of the house Babington had entered. They also saw a certain quailing and cowering of the form, and a scowl on the shaggy red eyebrows, and Irish features, and Humfrey at once edged himself so as to come between the fellow and the Queen, though he was ready to expect a pistol shot in his back, but better thus, was his thought, than that it should strike her,—and both laid their hands on their swords.
"How now!" said Hatton, "young men, you are over prompt. Her Majesty needs no swords. You are out of rank. Fall in and do your obeisance."
Something in the Queen's relaxed gaze told Humfrey that the peril was over, and that he might kneel as Talbot named him, explaining his lineage as Elizabeth always wished to have done. A sort of tremor passed over her, but she instantly recalled her attention. "From Drake!" she said, in her clear, somewhat shrill voice. "So, young gentleman, you have been with the pirate who outruns our orders, and fills our brother of Spain with malice such that he would have our life by fair or foul means."
"That shall he never do while your Grace has English watch-dogs to guard you," returned Talbot.
"The Talbot is a trusty hound by water or by land," said Elizabeth, surveying the goodly proportion of the elder brother. "Whelps of a good litter, though yonder lad be somewhat long and lean. Well, and how fares Sir Francis? Let him make his will, for the Spaniards one day will have his blood."
"I have letters and a token from him for your Grace," said Humfrey.
"Come then in," said the Queen. "We will see it in the bower, and hear what thou wouldst say."
A bower, or small summer-house, stood at the end of the path, and here she took her way, seating herself on a kind of rustic throne evidently intended for her, and there receiving from Humfrey the letter and the gift, and asking some questions about the voyage; but she seemed preoccupied and anxious, and did not show the enthusiastic approbation of her sailors' exploits which the young men expected. After glancing over it, she bade them carry the letter to Mr. Secretary Walsingham the next day; nor did she bid the party remain to supper; but as soon as half a dozen of her gentlemen pensioners, who had been summoned by her orders, came up, she rose to return to the palace.
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