Windsor Castle Part 27

III.

What pa.s.sed between Norris and the Tall Monk.

Tottering to the seat which Henry and Jane had just quitted, Anne sank into it. After a little time, having in some degree recovered her composure, she was about to return to the great hall, when Norris appeared.

"I did not deceive you, madam," he said, "when I told you the king was insensible to your charms; he only lives for Jane Seymour."

"Would I could dismiss her!" cried Anne furiously.

"If you were to do so, she would soon be replaced by another," rejoined Norris. "The king delights only in change. With him, the last face is ever the most beautiful."

"You speak fearful treason, sir!" replied Anne; "but I believe it to be the truth."

"Oh, then, madam!" pursued Norris, "since the king is so regardless of you, why trouble yourself about him? There are those who would sacrifice a thousand lives, if they possessed them, for your love."

"I fear it is the same with all men," rejoined Anne. "A woman's heart is a bauble which, when obtained, is speedily tossed aside."

"Your majesty judges our s.e.x too harshly," said Norris. "If I had the same fortune as the king, I should never change."

"The king himself once thought so-once swore so," replied Anne petulantly. "It is the common parlance of lovers. But I may not listen to such discourse longer."

"Oh, madam!" cried Norris, "you misjudge me greatly. My heart is not made of the same stuff as that of the royal Henry. I can love deeply-devotedly-lastingly."

"Know you not that by these rash speeches you place your head in jeopardy?" said Anne.

"I would rather lose it than not be permitted to love you," he replied.

"But your rashness endangers me," said the queen. "Your pa.s.sion has already been noticed by Jane Seymour, and the slightest further indiscretion will be fatal."

"Nay, if that be so," cried Norris, "and your majesty should be placed in peril on my account, I will banish myself from the court, and from your presence, whatever the effort cost me."

"No," replied Anne, "I will not tax you so hardly. I do not think," she added tenderly, "deserted as I am by the king, that I could spare you."

"You confess, then, that I have inspired you with some regard?" he cried rapturously.

"Do not indulge in these transports, Norris," said Anne mournfully. "Your pa.s.sion will only lead to your destruction-perchance to mine. Let the certainty that I do love, content you, and seek not to tempt your fate further."

"Oh, madam! you make me the happiest of men by the avowal," he cried. "I envy not now the king, for I feel raised above him by your love."

"You must join the revel, Norris," said Anne; "your absence from it will be observed."

And extending her hand to him, he knelt down and pressed it pa.s.sionately to his lips.

"Ah! we are observed," she cried suddenly, and almost with a shriek. "Rise, sir!"

Norris instantly sprang to his feet, and, to his inexpressible dismay, saw the figure of a tall monk gliding away. Throwing a meaning look at the almost sinking queen, he followed the mysterious observer into the great hall, determined to rid himself of him in some way before he should have time to make any revelations.

Avoiding the brilliant throng, the monk entered the adjoining corridor, and descending the great staircase, pa.s.sed into the upper quadrangle. From thence he proceeded towards the cloisters near St. George's Chapel, where he was overtaken by Norris, who had followed him closely.

"What would you with me, Sir Henry Norris?" cried the monk, halting.

"You may guess," said Norris, sternly and drawing his sword. "There are secrets which are dangerous to the possessor. Unless you swear never to betray what you have seen and heard, you die."

The tall monk laughed derisively.

"You know that your life is in my power," he said, "and therefore you threaten mine. Well, e'en take it, if you can."

As he spoke, he drew a sword from beneath his robe, and stood upon his defence. After a few pa.s.ses, Norris's weapon was beaten from his grasp.

"You are now completely at my mercy," said the monk, "and I have nothing to do but to call the guard, and declare all I have heard to the king."

"I would rather you plunged your sword into my heart," said Norris.

"There is one way-and only one-by which my secrecy may be purchased," said the monk.

"Name it," replied Norris. "Were it to be purchased by my soul's perdition, I would embrace it."

"You have hit the point exactly," rejoined the monk drily. "Can you not guess with whom you have to deal?"

"Partly," replied Norris "I never found such force in mortal arm as you have displayed."

"Probably not," laughed the other: "most of those who have ventured against me have found their match. But come with me into the park, and you shall learn the condition of my secrecy."

"I cannot quit the castle," replied Norris; "but I will take you to my lodgings, where we shall be wholly un.o.bserved."

And crossing the lower ward, they proceeded to the tower on the south side of it, now appropriated to the governor of the alms knights.

About an hour after this Norris returned to the revel. His whole demeanour was altered, and his looks ghastly. He sought the queen, who had returned to the seat in the embrasure.

"What has happened?" said Anne, in a low tone, as he approached her. "Have you killed him?"

"No," he replied; "but I have purchased our safety at a terrible price."

"You alarm me, Norris; what mean you?" she cried. "I mean this," he answered, regarding her with pa.s.sionate earnestness: "that you must love me now, for I have perilled my salvation for you. That tall monk was Herne the Hunter."

IV.

Of the Secret Interview between Norris and Anne Boleyn, and of the Dissimulation practised by the King.

Henry's attentions to Jane Seymour at the masqued fete were so marked, that the whole court was made aware of his pa.s.sion. But it was not antic.i.p.ated that any serious and extraordinary consequences would result from the intoxication-far less that the queen herself would be removed to make way for her successful rival. It was afterwards, however, remembered that at this time Henry held frequent, long, and grave conferences with the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and appeared to be engrossed in the meditation of some project.

After the scene at the revel, Anne did not make another exhibition of jealousy; but it was not that she was reconciled to her situation, or in any way free from uneasiness. On the contrary, the unhappy Catherine of Arragon did not suffer more in secret; but she knew, from experience, that with her royal consort all reproaches would be unavailing.

One morning, when she was alone within her chamber, her father, who was now Earl of Wilts.h.i.+re, obtained admittance to her.

"You have a troubled look, my dear lord," she said, as she motioned him to a seat.

"And with good reason," he replied. "Oh, Anne! words cannot express my anxiety at the present state of things."

"It will speedily pa.s.s by, my lord," she replied; "the king will soon be tired of his new idol."

"Not before he has overthrown the old one, I fear," rejoined the earl. "Jane Seymour's charms have usurped entire sovereignty over him. With all her air of ingenuousness and simplicity, the minion is artful and dangerous She has a high mark, I am persuaded-no less than the throne."

"But Henry cannot wed her-he cannot divorce me," said Anne.

"So thought Catherine of Arragon," replied her father; "and yet she was divorced. Anne, I am convinced a plot is hatching against you."

"You do not fear for my life, father?" she cried, trembling.

"I trust there are no grounds for charges against you by which it might be brought in jeopardy," replied the earl gravely.

"None, father-none!" she exclaimed.

"I am glad of it," rejoined the earl; "for I have heard that the king said to one who suggested another divorce to him, 'No, if the queen comes within the scope of the divorce, she also comes within the pale of the scaffold.'"

"A pledge was extorted from him to that effect," said Anne, in a hollow voice.

"That an attempt will be made against you, I firmly believe," replied the earl; "but if you are wholly innocent you have nothing to fear."

"Oh, father! I know not that," cried Anne. "Innocence avails little with the stony-hearted Henry."

"It will prove your best safeguard," said the earl. "And now farewell, daughter! Heaven guard you! Keep the strictest watch upon yourself."

So saying, he quitted the apartment, and as soon as she was left alone, the unhappy Anne burst into an agony of tears.

From this state of affliction she was roused by hearing her own name p.r.o.nounced in low accents, and looking up, she beheld Sir Henry Norris.

"Oh, Norris!" she said, in a tone of reproach, "you have come hither to destroy me."

"No one knows of my coming," he said; "at least, no one who will betray me. I was brought hither by one who will take care we are not observed."

"By Herne?" demanded Anne.

Norris answered in the affirmative.

"Would you had never leagued yourself with him!" she cried; "I fear the rash act will bring destruction upon us both."

"It is too late to retract now," he replied; "besides, there was no help for it. I sacrificed myself to preserve you."

"But will the sacrifice preserve me?" she cried. "I fear not. I have just been told that the king is preparing some terrible measure against me-that he meditates removing me, to make way for Jane Seymour."

"You have heard the truth, madam," replied Norris, "he will try to bring you to the block."

"And with him, to try is to achieve," said Anne. "Oh, Norris! it is a fearful thing to contemplate such a death!"

"But why contemplate it, madam?" said Norris; "why, if you are satisfied that the king has such designs against you-why, if you feel that he will succeed, tarry for the fatal blow? Fly with me-fly with one who loves you, and will devote his whole life to you-who regards you, not as the queen, but as Anne Boleyn. Relinquish this false and hollow grandeur, and fly with me to happiness and peace."

"And relinquish my throne to Jane Seymour?" rejoined Anne "Never! I feel that all you a.s.sert is true-that my present position is hazardous-that Jane Seymour is in the ascendant, while I am on the decline, if not wholly sunk-that you love me entirely, and would devote your life to me-still, with all these motives for dread, I cannot prevail upon myself voluntarily to give up my t.i.tle, and to abandon my post to a rival."

"You do not love me, then, as I love you, Anne," said Norris. "If I were a king, I would abandon my throne for you."

"You think so now, Norris, because you are not king," she replied. "But I am queen, and will remain so, till I am forced to abandon my dignity."

"I understand, madam," rejoined Norris gloomily. "But oh I bethink you to what risks you expose yourself. You know the king's terrible determination-his vindictiveness, his ferocity."

"Full well," she replied-"full well; but I will rather die a queen than live disgrace and ruined. In wedding Henry the Eighth, I laid my account to certain risks, and those I must brave."

Before Norris could urge anything further, the door was suddenly opened, and a tall dark figure entered the chamber, and said hastily-"The king is at hand."

"One word more, and it is my last," said Norris to Anne. "Will you fly with me to-night?-all shall be ready."

"I cannot," replied Anne.

"Away!" cried Herne, dragging Norris forcibly behind the tapestry.

Scarcely had they disappeared when Henry entered the chamber. He was in a gayer mood than had been usual with him of late.

"I am come to tell you, madam," he said, "that I am about to hold jousts in the castle on the first of May, at which your good brother and mine, the Lord Rochford, will be the challenger, while I myself shall be the defendant. You will adjudge the prize."

"Why not make Jane Seymour queen of the jousts?" said Anne, unable to resist the remark.

"She will be present at them," said Henry, "but I have my own reasons," he added significantly, "for not wis.h.i.+ng her to appear as queen on this occasion."

"Whatever may be your reasons, the wish is sufficient for me," said Anne. "Nay, will you tarry a moment with me? It is long since we have had any converse in private together."

"I am busy at this moment," replied Henry bluffly; "but what is it you would say to me?"

"I would only reproach you for some lack of tenderness, and much neglect," said Anne. "Oh, Henry! do you remember how you swore by your life-your crown-your faith-all that you held sacred or dear-that you would love me ever?"

"And so I would, if I could," replied the king; "but unfortunately the heart is not entirely under control. Have you yourself, for instance, experienced no change in your affections?"

"No," replied Anne. "I have certainly suffered severely from your too evident regard for Jane Seymour; but, though deeply mortified and distressed, I have never for a moment been shaken in my love for your majesty."

"A loyal and loving reply," said Henry. "I thought I had perceived some slight diminution in your regard."