Child Royal. D. K. Broster

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СКАЧАТЬ sure that the future bride, of such tender years, would at first be brought up in the royal nursery with the Dauphin and the two little princesses.

      Here, to the damaged hero’s relief, the scene was cut short by the advent of M. de Villegaignon himself, who, entering the poop cabin at that moment, and being instantly apprised of what had happened, perceived, as he came forward, just what that hero was trying to hide.

      “Tête-Dieu!” he exclaimed bluntly, acknowledging the Queen’s presence only by removing his cap, “this gentleman needs care rather than thanks. With your Majesty’s leave I’ll take him at once to have his arm dressed.” And he laid upon Ninian’s shoulder a hand so compelling that the latter was obliged to withdraw, after a word of excuse and reassurance to the royal child, whose eyes were wide now with concern and, for the first time, with a measure of alarm.

      Just outside the cabin the two men all but ran into the tall maid of honour who had removed little Mary Beaton a few minutes ago. At the sight of Ninian’s arm, with the now soaked handkerchief crimson about it, she stopped short with a cry.

      “Yes,” said Villegaignon, “you have this gentleman to thank, it seems, Mademoiselle, that your little Queen was not savaged before everyone’s eyes by that accursed dog. And, as you see, he has paid for his courage and quickness. Could you procure us some clean linen?”

      “I . . . why, yes, Monsieur. But . . . for the moment, will you not take this?” And Magdalen Lindsay, hastily unpinning the short white veil which hung from the back of her head-dress, thrust it into the Frenchman’s hands and quickly disappeared.

      In the Sieur de Villegaignon’s own cabin, where the commander himself, despite Ninian’s protests, acted leech, Ninian asked the name of the donor of the veil which, after washing the injured arm, he was binding round it.

      “A Mademoiselle Lindsay, I believe,” replied the Frenchman, “some kinswoman of her Majesty’s gouvernante, the Lady Fleming” (he pronounced it Flamyn). “She is quickwitted, is she not? But this scrap of stuff will not suffice.—Here, however, if I mistake not, comes further provision for your hurt, Monsieur.”

      There was indeed the sharp, screeching sound of linen being rent, and in the doorway appeared Janet Sinclair, her hands still busy, strips of white hanging over her arm.

      “Eh sirs!” she exclaimed, in a tongue which it did Ninian’s ears good to hear in that French vessel, “whit a mairciful escape! I’ve torn up a shift o’ my Leddy Fleming’s for ye, my bonny brave gentleman, and had I torn up ane o’ the Queen’s hersel it wad be nae mair than is due to ye . . . forbye they’re but wee bit things, ye ken. God send ye be weel recompensit that saved the blessed bairn!” And here, to the Archer’s embarrassment, she reached up and gave him a hearty kiss.

      “You say well, Madame Nourrice,” observed the Sieur de Villegaignon gravely. “Had aught happened to her little Majesty, whom I am to bring safe to France——”

      “Ye’d likely hae lost your ain heid,” completed Janet Sinclair, who did not mince her words. “Best let me finish redding that airm, my Lord Captain; savin’ your presence, ye’re not ower handy at it. And what’s this ye hae happed it in a’ready?”

      Ninian explained, Villegaignon with a grin of amusement yielding his place. “Aweel,” commented the thrifty Janet, “since the bit veil isna torn, ye’ll be able tae gie it back tae Mistress Lindsay in the end.”

      During the Scotswoman’s ministration Ninian was aware that someone else had sought and obtained admission to the commander’s cabin. Hearing his own name he turned his head, and beheld a small, withering gentleman, breathing hard, as from hurry—Lord Keeper Erskine. He began at once:

      “Master Graham, I am glad to have found you at last. Sir, I cannot enough commend and thank you for your courage and your promptitude. I am your debtor, Master Graham, to eternity! Had my royal charge——” And here he broke off, as one unable to finish the sentence. “If there be any recompense in my power, sir . . . as for her Majesty’s desire to see you captain of her guard—a child’s whim as you’ll understand—there’ll be no such post for a while yet in France, if ever there is . . .”

      “That I well understand, my lord,” answered Ninian, still unable to free his arm from the hands of Janet Sinclair who, beyond glancing up once at Lord Erskine, took no notice of his presence, but went on bandaging. “Moreover, I am in the service of King Henry II, as I pointed out to her Majesty. Nor do I desire any recompense; to have saved her from possible harm is recompense enough.”

      “And lucky ye think sae,” muttered Janet Sinclair under her breath. “For I’m thinkin’ ye’ll likely get nae ither.—There, Maister Graham, ye’ll need but tae carry yon airm in your bosom for a while, or get ye a scairf. Guid day tae ye, sir, and tak an auld wife’s blessin’ for whit ye did!”

      She made a brief reverence to the Lord Keeper and went out with dignity.

      (6)

      A light haze hung over the treacherous, rock-strewn Breton coast, for the August morning was as fine and still as though it made a mock of the last seven days’ memories of hazard, and even of terror. As the boat from the Sainte Catherine drew over the gentle swell towards the little fishing port of Roscoff, which had already received the Queen of Scots and her train, the handful of Scots in its stern rehearsed to each other their thankfulness at approaching a shore which, during those eighteen days on shipboard, more than one of them had despaired of ever reaching at all.

      To Ninian Graham also, sitting among his compatriots with his arm in a sling, the sight of port was very welcome. He had had his moments of apprehension as well as another, not only for his own safe arrival, which was a matter of small importance, but for that of the little Queen herself. For, after the convoy had ventured forth from its refuge at Lamlash, the tempestuous weather had returned in full force. There had been one night in particular, not far from the implacable Cornish coast, when it had encountered such tremendous seas that the rudder of the Queen’s galley had actually been smashed, and only by the direct intervention of Heaven, as M. de Brézé averred afterwards, had the seamen succeeded in repairing it. Nor had that night of storm seen the end of peril. If ever a captain was glad to sight land, thought Ninian, it must have been M. de Villegaignon with his precious lading. Even then he had no easy coast for a landfall.

      The Queen and her immediate attendants had already disappeared an hour ago into the house set apart for her reception when Ninian clambered up the side of the rough seaweed-hung quay. But there were still plenty of his fellow-countrymen about the narrow streets of the little port to be stared at by the baggy-breeched, long-haired, wide-hatted natives, and to stare in their turn at the unfamiliar Breton costume and exclaim at the unintelligible language.

      It was Ninian’s duty to press on at once to rejoin the Archer Guard, and when he had sought out Lord Livingstone to take farewell, he would have to take steps to ascertain the present whereabouts of the King. In this remote corner of a remote land it seemed unlikely that he would find exact information on this point. These people, of a different race, tradition and speech, were not France as he knew it—nor, indeed, had they long formed part of France. Half fascinated, half repelled, he wandered away from the thronged quay and its fishing boats and walked beneath the overhanging little houses, nearly all bearing a sacred image or painting, until some steps leading down to a tiny church recalled to him his own intention of putting up a candle to the Virgin in thankfulness for the Queen’s safe landing and his own after this perilous August voyage.

      Inside, the place, redolent of stale incense and candle-grease, was appropriate СКАЧАТЬ