The Coming of the King. Hocking Joseph
of a woman?" I asked.
"A woman who hath forty-five years, but carries them lightly," she replied; "a woman who hath not the attire of a woman of quality, and yet speaketh as if she were; a woman who years ago lived at Rashcliffe Manor."
"And if such a woman hath been there?" I said.
"Then must I go thither."
"But if she hath been there, and is gone?"
"Then lack-a-day, I know not; ay, but even then I must know what she hath told Master Rashcliffe."
"Come with me," I said; "I will take you to the house."
"But is she there?" she asked eagerly.
"Ay, she is there," I replied.
"Then let us go quickly," and although she still stooped low, she walked by my side at a good speed.
A little later I led her into my father's hall, wondering at the meaning of what was happening, but little dreaming of what lay before me.
[1] As all students of history know, the story of the black box containing the marriage contract between Charles II and Lucy Walters obtained great credence after the Restoration, indeed, it is probable that belief in its validity had much to do with the Monmouth rebellion at a later date.—J. H.
CHAPTER III
THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT
Bidding the woman be seated, and going straight to the room we called the library, I knocked at the door.
"Who is there?" asked my father.
"It is I, Roland."
My father opened the door, and looked at me questioningly. I saw that the woman Katharine Harcomb was standing by the chair on which she had sat during the time I had been in the room; but the hard defiant look in her eyes had gone. Rather I thought I saw fear, almost amounting to terror in them. Evidently my father had been speaking about matters which moved her mightily. She no longer bore the expression of one who would make her own terms, but rather as one who lived under the shadow of a great fear.
"You are back soon Roland," said my father, "it is not an hour since you left us."
"Nay," I replied, "but I met an old woman from St. Paul's Cross who was coming hither, who declared she must see Katharine Harcomb."
The woman gave a start as I spoke.
"Where is she?" she cried, "let me see her without delay."
"Tarry a little," said my father; "tell me more of this, Roland."
So without more ado I told him of my meeting with the dame, and of what had passed between us.
"I would speak to her, I would speak to her alone!" cried Katharine Harcomb, like one bereft of her senses, and she made for the doorway as if to pass me. But my father closed the door quickly and seemed to be deep in thought. A moment later I saw that he had made up his mind.
"Have any of the kitchen wenches seen her?" he asked.
"Nay," I replied. "I myself opened the door, and she is waiting in the hall."
"Then do you bring her here, Roland, and afterward do you leave us again."
I have no doubt I showed my disappointment at this, for I was eager to understand the meaning of it all. My father took but little heed, however, so doing his bidding I went to the hall, where the woman was still sitting.
It was at this time I called to mind that I had not heard her name, so without first telling her to follow me where my father was I said quietly, "What is your name, good dame?"
"Name," she replied, "when Katharine Harcomb knows that Mistress Walters is here she will not keep me waiting."
"That is well," I replied; "will you follow me?" But although I spoke quietly my heart beat quickly, for I felt sure that she was in some way connected with Lucy Walters, whose son, Katharine Harcomb said, was the next heir to the throne of England.
No sooner had the library door opened than I saw the two women exchange glances, but I had no opportunity of noticing more, for my father gave me a look which told me that I must leave them alone, which I did much to my impatience.
I did not go far away, however. It is true I left the house, for cool as the night had become the air seemed stifling, so I stepped on to the grass outside, and began to walk up and down in the light of the window, behind which I knew my father and the two women were. How long I stayed there I know not, but it must have been more than an hour, for I noticed that the moon which stood high in the heavens when I went out had dropped behind the trees. In a sense the time seemed long. To a lad barely twenty-three, to be kept away from the knowledge of a secret which promised to vitally affect his future, was calculated to multiply every minute into five. Nevertheless I had so much to think about, that I thought but little of the time, and that in spite of my impatience. The mystery of the box containing the marriage contract between the new king and Lucy Walters, and the woman's request that I should go on a voyage of discovery kept me wondering so much, that at times I almost forgot that I knew very little of the whole business, and that my father was even then talking about these things with the two women who had in such an unaccountable way entered my life.
The moon had sunk far behind the trees when I was startled by the loud noises of those within the house. A minute later I heard my father's voice.
"Roland, my son."
I entered the house again, and soon found myself in the room where I had left the two women. I could see that something of importance had passed between them. The woman Katharine Harcomb seemed much wrought upon, while in her eyes was a look which might mean anger or terror.
I looked from one to the other questioningly, for I was eager to know what had been said.
"Roland, my son," said my father, "you have long complained of idleness. You will have no need to complain longer."
I did not speak, although many questions came into my mind.
"Ay," cried the old woman, "and what is done must be done quickly and in secret, for remember the Duke of York is already at work. He knows that my grandson will be the lawful heir to the throne, and if he can find the marriage contract, my poor Lucy's child will be kept out of his rights."
"You mean the new king's brother?" I asked, for I was somewhat taken back by the vehemence of the dame's speech.
"Ay, who else?" she replied. "If Charles dies, will he not claim the crown? Already it is said that he speaks of what he will do when he is crowned."
"As to that," I made answer, "are not his chances small? He is but three years younger than the king, and may not live as long. Besides, Charles may marry again."
"He will," cried the dame, "he will, but there will be no children."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I do know, and that is enough," she replied. "Charles will never have a child which shall be heir to the throne of England save only the son of my daughter Lucy."
I took but little notice of this speech, although the dame uttered it with much warmth. I imagined that in spite of the severe measures which had been taken with witches, and those who professed to foretell the future, she had either consulted some of these people, or was perchance herself a "wise woman." Not that I paid much heed to these things, for my father, although he denied not that some had it in their