A DECISION II. A FORETASTE OF PEACE III. THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES IV. A COMMISSION V. MASTER MORE VI. RALPH'S INTERCESSION VII. A MERRY PRISONER VIII. A HIGHER STEP IX. LIFE AT LEWES X. THE ARENA XI. A CLOSING-IN XII. A RECOVERY XIII. PRISONER AND PRINCE XIV. THE SACRED PURPLE XV. THE KING'S FRIEND
BOOK II. THE KING'S TRIUMPH.
PART I.—THE SMALLER HOUSES.
I. AN ACT OF FAITH II. THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION III. A HOUSE OF LADIES IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING V. FATHER AND SON VI. A NUN'S DEFIANCE VII. ST. PANCRAS PRIORY VIII. RALPH'S RETURN IX. RALPH'S WELCOME
PART II—THE FALL OF LEWES.
I. INTERNAL DISSENSION II. SACERDOS IN AETERNUM III. THE NORTHERN RISING IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL V. THE SINKING SHIP VI. THE LAST STAND VII. AXES AND HAMMERS
BOOK III.
THE KING'S GRATITUDE.
I. A SCHEME II. A DUEL III. A PEACE-MAKER IV. THE ELDER SON V. THE MUMMERS VI. A CATASTROPHE VII. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY VIII. TO CHARING IX. A RELIEF-PARTY X. PLACENTIA XI. THE KING'S HIGHNESS XII. THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER XIII. THE RELEASE
BENEFICO—IGNOTO HVNC—LIBRVM D.
THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT
CHAPTER I
A DECISION
Overfield Court lay basking in warm June sunshine. The western side of the great house with its new timber and plaster faced the evening sun across the square lawns and high terrace; and the woods a couple of hundred yards away cast long shadows over the gardens that lay beyond the moat. The lawns, in their broad plateaux on the eastern side descended by steps, in cool shadow to the lake that formed a quarter-circle below the south-eastern angle of the house; and the mirrored trees and reeds on the other side were broken, circle after circle, by the great trout that were rising for their evening meal. The tall front of the house on the north, formed by the hall in the centre with the kitchen at its eastern end and the master's chamber on the western, was faced by a square-towered gatehouse through which the straight drive leading into the main road approached the house under a lime-avenue; and on the south side the ground fell away again rapidly below the chapel and the morning-room, in copse and garden and wild meadow bright with buttercups and ox-eye daisies, down to the lake again and the moat that ran out of it round the entire domain.
The cobbled courtyard in the centre of the house, where the tall leaded pump stood, was full of movement. Half a dozen trunks lay there that had just been carried in from the luggage-horses that were now being led away with patient hanging heads towards the stables that stood outside the gatehouse on the right, and three or four dusty men in livery were talking to the house-servants who had come out of their quarters on the left. From the kitchen corner came a clamour of tongues and dishes, and smoke was rising steadily from the huge outside chimney that rose beyond the roofs.
Presently there came clear and distinct from the direction of the village the throb of hoofs on the hard road; and the men shouldered the trunks, and disappeared, staggering, under the low archway on the right, beside which the lamp extinguisher hung, grimy with smoke and grease. The yard dog came out at the sound of the hoofs, dragging his chain after him, from his kennel beneath the little cloister outside the chapel, barked solemnly once or twice, and having done his duty lay down on the cool stones, head on paws, watching with bright eyes the door that led from the hall into the Court. A moment later the little door from the masters chamber opened; and Sir James Torridon came out and, giving a glance at the disappearing servants, said a word or two to the others, and turned again through the hall to meet his sons.
The coach was coming up the drive round toward the gatehouse, as he came out on the wide paved terrace; and he stood watching the glitter of brasswork through the dust, the four plumed cantering horses in front, and the bobbing heads of the men that rode behind; and there was a grave pleased expectancy on his bearded face and in his bright grey eyes as he looked. His two sons had met at Begham, and were coming home, Ralph from town sites a six months' absence, and Christopher from Canterbury, where he had been spending a week or two in company with Mr. Carleton, the chaplain of the Court. He was the more pleased as the house had been rather lonely in their absence, since the two daughters were both from home, Mary with her husband, Sir Nicholas Maxwell, over at Great Keynes, and Margaret at her convent education at Rusper: and he himself had had for company his wife alone.
She came out presently as the carriage rolled through the archway, a tall dignified figure of a woman, finely dressed in purple and black, and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door.
Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother's, and dressed in the same kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak, crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the terrace.
Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin.
Ralph turned at the top of the steps
"The bag," he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents' hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey.
"Oh, yes," he said; and then added, "Christopher was late at Begham."
"And you are well, my son?" asked his mother, as they turned to walk up to the house.
"Oh, yes!" he said again.
Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three followed the others a few yards behind.
"You saw her?" said his father.
Christopher nodded.
"Yes," he said, "I must speak to you, sir, before I tell the others."
"Come to me when you are dressed, then. Supper will be in an hour from now;" and he looked at his son with a kind of sharp expectancy.
The courtyard was empty as they passed through, but half a dozen servants stood crowded in the little flagged passage that led from it into the kitchen, and watched Ralph and his mother with an awed interest as they came out from the hall. Mr. Ralph had come down from the heart of life, as they knew; had been present at the crowning of Anne Boleyn a week before, had mixed with great folks; and what secrets of State might there not be in that little strapped bag that his brother carried behind him?
When the two first had disappeared, the servants broke into talk, and went back to the kitchen.
* * * * *
Lady Torridon, with her elder son and the chaplain, had to wait a few minutes on the dais in the hall an hour
