Peveril of the Peak by Walter Scott (android based ebook reader txt) 📗

Grace had no sooner entered, than he heard behind him the command, “Move close up, sentinels—closer yet to the gate.” And he felt as if all chance of rescue were excluded by the sound.

As he advanced up the grand staircase, there were other symptoms of alarm and precaution. The Yeomen of the Guard were mustered in unusual numbers, and carried carabines instead of their halberds; and the Gentlemen-pensioners, with their partisans, appeared also in proportional force. In short, all that sort of defence which the royal household possesses within itself, seemed, for some hasty and urgent reason, to have been placed under arms, and upon duty.

Buckingham ascended the royal staircase with an eye attentive to these preparations, and a step steady and slow, as if he counted each step on which he trode. “Who,” he asked himself, “shall ensure Christian’s fidelity? Let him but stand fast, and we are secure. Otherwise——”

As he shaped the alternative, he entered the presence-chamber.

The King stood in the midst of the apartment, surrounded by the personages with whom he had been consulting. The rest of the brilliant assembly, scattered into groups, looked on at some distance. All were silent when Buckingham entered, in hopes of receiving some explanation of the mysteries of the evening. All bent forward, though etiquette forbade them to advance, to catch, if possible, something of what was about to pass betwixt the King and his intriguing statesman. At the same time, those counsellors who stood around Charles, drew back on either side, so as to permit the Duke to pay his respects to his Majesty in the usual form. He went through the ceremonial with his accustomed grace, but was received by Charles with much unwonted gravity.

“We have waited for you some time, my Lord Duke. It is long since Chiffinch left us, to request your attendance here. I see you are elaborately dressed. Your toilette was needless on the present occasion.”

“Needless to the splendour of your Majesty’s Court,” said the Duke, “but not needless on my part. This chanced to be Black Monday at York Place, and my club of Pendables were in full glee when your Majesty’s summons arrived. I could not be in the company of Ogle, Maniduc, Dawson, and so forth, but what I must needs make some preparation, and some ablution, ere entering the circle here.”

“I trust the purification will be complete,” said the King, without any tendency to the smile which always softened features, that, ungilded by its influence, were dark, harsh, and even severe. “We wished to ask your Grace concerning the import of a sort of musical mask which you designed us here, but which miscarried, as we are given to understand.”

“It must have been a great miscarriage indeed,” said the Duke, “since your Majesty looks so serious on it. I thought to have done your Majesty pleasure (as I have seen you condescend to be pleased with such passages), by sending the contents of that bass-viol; but I fear the jest has been unacceptable—I fear the fireworks may have done mischief.”

“Not the mischief they were designed for, perhaps,” said the King gravely; “you see, my lord, we are all alive, and unsinged.”

“Long may your Majesty remain so,” said the Duke; “yet I see there is something misconstrued on my part—it must be a matter unpardonable, however little intended, since it hath displeased so indulgent a master.”

“Too indulgent a master, indeed, Buckingham,” replied the King; “and the fruit of my indulgence has been to change loyal men into traitors.”

“May it please your Majesty, I cannot understand this,” said the Duke.

“Follow us, my lord,” answered Charles, “and we will endeavour to explain our meaning.”

Attended by the same lords who stood around him, and followed by the Duke of Buckingham, on whom all eyes were fixed, Charles retired into the same cabinet which had been the scene of repeated consultations in the course of the evening. There, leaning with his arms crossed on the back of an easy-chair, Charles proceeded to interrogate the suspected nobleman.

“Let us be plain with each other. Speak out, Buckingham. What, in one word, was to have been the regale intended for us this evening?”

“A petty mask, my lord. I had destined a little dancing-girl to come out of that instrument, who, I thought, would have performed to your Majesty’s liking—a few Chinese fireworks there were, thinking the entertainment was to have taken place in the marble hall, might, I hoped, have been discharged with good effect, and without the slightest alarm, at the first appearance of my little sorceress, and were designed to have masked, as it were, her entrance upon the stage. I hope there have been no perukes singed—no ladies frightened—no hopes of noble descent interrupted by my ill-fancied jest.”

“We have seen no such fireworks, my lord; and your female dancer, of whom we now hear for the first time, came forth in the form of our old acquaintance Geoffrey Hudson, whose dancing days are surely ended.”

“Your Majesty surprises me! I beseech you, let Christian be sent for—Edward Christian—he will be found lodging in a large old house near Sharper the cutler’s, in the Strand. As I live by bread, sire, I trusted him with the arrangement of this matter, as indeed the dancing-girl was his property. If he has done aught to dishonour my concert, or disparage my character, he shall die under the baton.”

“It is singular,” said the King, “and I have often observed it, that this fellow Christian bears the blame of all men’s enormities—he performs the part which, in a great family, is usually assigned to that mischief-doing personage, Nobody. When Chiffinch blunders, he always quotes Christian. When Sheffield writes a lampoon, I am sure to hear of Christian having corrected, or copied, or dispersed it—he is the ame damnée of every one about my Court—the scapegoat, who is to carry away all their iniquities; and he will have a cruel load to bear into the wilderness. But for Buckingham’s sins, in particular, he is the regular and uniform sponsor; and I am convinced his Grace expects Christian should suffer every penalty he has incurred, in this world or the next.”

“Not so,” with the deepest reverence replied the Duke. “I have no hope of being either hanged or damned by proxy; but it is clear some one hath tampered with and altered my device. If I am accused of aught, let me at least hear the charge, and see my accuser.”

“That is but fair,” said the King. “Bring our little friend from behind the chimney-board. [Hudson being accordingly produced, he continued.] There stands the Duke of Buckingham. Repeat before him the tale you told us. Let him hear what were those contents of the bass-viol which were removed that you might enter it. Be not afraid of any one, but speak the truth boldly.”

“May it please your Majesty,” said Hudson, “fear is a thing unknown to me.”

“His body has no room to hold such a passion; or there is too little of it to be worth fearing for,” said Buckingham.—“But let him speak.”

Ere Hudson had completed his tale, Buckingham interrupted him by exclaiming, “Is it possible that I can be suspected by your Majesty on the word of this pitiful variety of the baboon tribe?”

“Villain-Lord,