"What! my lords," said Elizabeth, looking around, "we are defied, I
think--defied in the Castle we have ourselves bestowed on this proud
man!--My Lord Shrewsbury, you are Marshal of England, attach him of high
treason."
"Whom does your Grace mean?" said Shrewsbury, much surprised, for he had
that instant joined the astonished circle.
"Whom should I mean, but that traitor Dudley, Earl of Leicester!--Cousin
of Hunsdon, order out your band of gentlemen pensioners, and take him
into instant custody. I say, villain, make haste!"
Hunsdon, a rough old noble, who, from his relationship to the Boleyns,
was accustomed to use more freedom with the Queen than almost any other
dared to do, replied bluntly, "And it is like your Grace might order me
to the Tower to-morrow for making too much haste. I do beseech you to be
patient."
"Patient--God's life!" exclaimed the Queen--"name not the word to me;
thou knowest not of what he is guilty!"
Amy, who had by this time in some degree recovered herself, and who saw
her husband, as she conceived, in the utmost danger from the rage of an
offended Sovereign, instantly (and alas! how many women have done the
same) forgot her own wrongs and her own danger in her apprehensions for
him, and throwing herself before the Queen, embraced her knees, while
she exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one can lay
aught to the charge of the noble Leicester!"
"Why, minion," answered the Queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the
Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"
"Did I say so?" repeated the unhappy Amy, laying aside every
consideration of consistency and of self-interest. "Oh, if I did, I
foully belied him. May God so judge me, as I believe he was never privy
to a thought that would harm me!"
"Woman!" said Elizabeth, "I will know who has moved thee to this; or
my wrath--and the wrath of kings is a flaming fire--shall wither and
consume thee like a weed in the furnace!"
As the Queen uttered this threat, Leicester's better angel called
his pride to his aid, and reproached him with the utter extremity
of meanness which would overwhelm him for ever if he stooped to take
shelter under the generous interposition of his wife, and abandoned
her, in return for her kindness, to the resentment of the Queen. He had
already raised his head with the dignity of a man of honour to avow
his marriage, and proclaim himself the protector of his Countess, when
Varney, born, as it appeared, to be his master's evil genius, rushed
into the presence with every mark of disorder on his face and apparel.