be of good cheer. I am happy because you brought me the keys—not so that I might escape for I could not go until they say I may—but because it shows you love me.”
Susannah was comforted.
But now the officials of the Tower were conferring together.
“A child … to take keys to the Princess! That is very dangerous. Important keys could be smuggled into her apartments in this way.”
“The keys which the child took to her were useless keys. They had been thrown away.”
“That is so. But keys! And what is this about flowers?”
“Only that one of the warders’ boys takes her a bunch of flowers now and then. He picks them from his garden and takes them to his favorite prisoner.”
“Messages … notes … could be concealed in a bunch of flowers. We have here an important state prisoner. If she should escape it might cost us our heads.”
The result of this conference was that young Will found himself standing before a committee of impressive gentlemen, among them the awe-inspiring Lieutenant of the Tower himself.
Will was a little afraid, because he sensed the trepidation of his father, who waited outside while Will stood before a table about which sat the gentlemen.
There was one thought in the little boy’s mind: He must not betray the fact that he had carried a note in the bunch of flowers. Lord Robert had been most insistent about that. That was why they were angry, but he would not tell them. He must remember that Lord Robert did not wish it, and he did not care how angry the gentlemen were so long as he did what Lord Robert wished.
He stood there, his feet wide apart, his face firm and set, remembering that he was Lord Robert’s friend.
“Now, my boy, you took flowers to the Princess, did you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did you get these flowers?”
“From our garden.” That was true; the flowers had come from the garden.
“Now listen, my boy. Did any of the prisoners give you anything to put among the flowers?”
“No, sir.” That was true too. Lord Robert himself had put the notes among the flowers.
“Think very hard. You are sure no one gave you a letter to take to the Princess?”
“I am thinking hard,” said the boy. “Nobody gave me a letter, sir.”
The men looked at each other.
“Has he ever visited Courtenay’s apartments?” asked the Lieutenant.
“We will have his father in and ask him.”
Will’s father entered.
“Has the boy ever accompanied you to the apartments of the Duke of Devonshire?”
“No, sir. I have never been there myself.”
“Have you ever visited any of the prisoners who have recently been brought to the Tower … those concerned in the Wyatt rebellion?”
“No, sir.”
The men again looked at each other and at the small boy who presented such a picture of bewildered innocence. It was said that the Princess was fond of children and they of her; it was probable that there was nothing in this matter but pure friendship between the Princess and the child. So far no harm had been done. Elizabeth was still their prisoner.
“I will double the Princess’s guards,” said the Lieutenant. “ We will curtail her freedom. She shall walk only for a short time in the gardens and not where she willed as heretofore. And, warder, your son is to take no more flowers to prisoners. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you, my boy, you understand? You must take no more flowers to the Princess.”
The boy nodded miserably.
When he next saw the Princess she was walking in her little garden, and the gates were locked so that he could not reach her. But he called to her through the railings.
She did not come near because her guards surrounded her; but she waved and smiled at him.
“I can bring you no more flowers, Mistress,” he called sadly.
The Queen fell ill and there was consternation among those who had persecuted Elizabeth. The chief of these was Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester—he who was the most formidable of the Princess’s enemies. He had a clear picture of what would happen to him if Mary died and Elizabeth became Queen.
He was the Queen’s favorite Bishop and statesman; he could take liberties; and it seemed to him that unless he took a very great one now, he could not expect to outlive Queen Mary by more than a week or two. So he decided to act with extreme boldness.
He wrote a death warrant and had a special messenger take it to Bridges in the Tower. The