and they wept more wildly; but she sat erect, her tawny head high, while she calmly looked into a future which might bring her a crown or a sword from France.
THREE
Robert was pacing up and down his cell. He had been excited since that rainy Palm Sunday when he had heard, from the warder who brought his meals, that there was a most distinguished prisoner not very far from him.
How long had he to live? he wondered. Young Guildford had gone, alas! It was a sobering thought. Guildford and he had spent so much of their lives together. Father … Guildford … Who next?
When the threat of death hung over a man for so long, there were times when he forgot about it. It was some months since he had walked from the Guildhall back to the Tower, aware of the axe with its edge turned toward him. When his cell door had been locked upon him and he was alone with those two servants, whom, because of his rank, he was allowed to have with him, he had felt nothing but bleak and utter despair; he had almost longed to be summoned for that last walk. But such as Robert Dudley did not despair for long. He had been born lucky. Was he not Fortune’s darling? Had she not shielded him when she had made him commit the seemingly foolhardly act of marrying Amy? If he had not done so, it would have been Robert, not Guildford, who had walked to the scaffold to be beheaded with the Lady Jane Grey, since his father would most certainly have married him to that most tragic young lady. The more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that he was preserved for some glorious destiny.
It was Easter time, always a season for hope.
The warder came in to bring his food, and with him he brought his small son. The little boy, not quite four years old, begged that he might accompany his father when he visited Lord Robert. The child would stand gravely surveying the prisoner, and although he said nothing, his eyes scarcely left Robert’s face.
Robert was amused. He could see in the child’s eyes the same admiration and sympathy which had shone in those of the women who had stood in the street to watch him on his journey from Guildhall to the Tower.
He bowed to the boy and said: “I am honored by your visit.”
The child smiled and hung his head.
“My lord,” said his father, “he asks always if I am going to visit you, and if I am he implores to come too.”
“I repeat,” said Robert, “I am honored.”
And with a display of charm which was natural with him, he lifted the child in his arms so that their faces were on a level.
“And what think you of what you see, my little one?” he asked. “Take a good look at this head, for the opportunity to do so may not long be yours. One day, my child, you will come to this cell and find another poor prisoner.”
The little boy’s lips began to quiver.
“And this poor head which you survey with such flattering attention will no longer have a pair of shoulders to support it.”
The warder whispered: “My lord, my lord, he understands your meaning. He will break his little heart. He sets such store by your lordship.”
Robert was immediately serious. He kissed the boy lightly on the cheek.
“Tears?” he said. “Nay, we do not shed tears. Do you think that I shall allow them to harm me? Never!”
The child smiled now. “Never!” he repeated.
Robert lowered him to the ground. “A bonny boy,” he said. “I look forward to his visits. I hope he will come again.”
“He shall, my lord. Always he pleads: ‘I want to see Lord Robert!’ Is that not so, my son?”
The boy nodded.
“And great pleasure it gives me to see you,” said Robert smiling.
“He has another friend in the Tower, my lord.”
“Ha! I grow jealous.”
“It is a lady Princess,” said the boy.
Robert was alert, eager to hear more.
“It is the Princess Elizabeth, my lord,” put in the warder. “Poor lady! It is sad for her … though they have allowed her a little freedom. She is allowed to walk in the small garden to take the air.”
“Would I could walk in a small garden now and then,” said Robert.
“Ah, my lord, yes indeed. They were at first strict with the Princess, keeping her closely guarded. But my lord of Sussex