 CHAPTER 10 THE PAGE, THE FIRES AND THE FOUR The night was intensely dark when Sir Norman got into it once more, and to anyone else would have been intensely dismal, but to Sir Norman all was bright as the fair hills of Bueller. When all is bright within, we see no darkness without, and just at that moment our young knight had got into one of those green and golden glimpses of sunshine that here and there checker life's rather dark pathway, and with Leo Lin beside him would have thought the dreary shores of the Dead Sea itself a very paradise. It was now near midnight, and there was an unusual concourse of people in the streets waiting for St. Paul's to give the signal to light the fires. He looked around for Ormiston, but Ormiston was nowhere to be seen. Horse and rider had disappeared. His own horse stood tattered where he had left him. Anxious as he was to ride back to the ruin and see the play played out, he could not resist the temptation of lingering a brief period in the city to behold the grand spectacle of the myriad fires. Many persons were hurrying towards St. Paul's to witness it from the dome, and consigning his horse to the care of the sentinel on guard at the house opposite, he joined them and was soon striding along at a tremendous pace towards the great cathedral. ere he reached it, its long-tanked clock toted twelve, and all the other churches, one after another, took up the sound, and the witching hour of midnight rang and re-ranged from end to end of London town. As if by magic a thousand-forked tongues of fire shot up at once into the blind black night, turning almost in an instant the darkened face of the heavens to an inflamed glowing red. Great fires were blazing around the cathedral when they reached it, but no one stopped to notice them but only hurried on the faster to gain the point of observation. So Norman just glanced at the magnificent pile, for the old St. Paul's was even more magnificent than the new, and then followed after the rest, through many a gallery, tower, and spiral staircase till the dome was reached. And there a grand and mighty spectacle was before him, the whole of London swaying and heaving in one great sea of fire. From one end to the other the city seemed wrapped in sheets of flame, and every street and alley and lane within it shone in a lurid radiance far brighter than noonday. All along the river fires were gleaming too, and the whole sky had turned from black to blood-red crimson. The streets were alive and swarming. It could scarcely be believed that the plague-infested city contained half so many people, and all were unusually hopeful and animated. For it was popularly believed that these fires would effectively check the pestilence. But the angry fire of a mighty judge had gone forth, and the tremendous arm of the destroying angel was not to be stopped by the puny hand of men. It has been said the weather for weeks was unusually brilliant. Trees of cloudless sunshine, nights of cloudless moonlight, and the air was warm and sultry enough for the month of August in the tropics. But now, while they looked, a vivid flash of lightning, from what quarter of the heavens no man knew, shot of wards the sky, followed by another and another, quick, sharp and blinding. Then one great drop of rain fell like molten lead on the pavement, then a second and a third, quicker, faster and thicker, until down it crashed in a perfect deluge. It did not wait to rain, it fell in floods, in great, slanting sheets of water as if the very floodgates of heaven had opened for a second deluge. No one ever remembered to have seen such torrents fall, and the populace fled before it in wildest dismay. In five minutes every fire, from one extremity of London to the other, was quenched in the very blackness of darkness, and on that night the deepest gloom and terror rained throughout the city. It was clear the hand of an arranging deity was in this, and he who had rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah had not lost his might. In fifteen minutes the terrific flood was over, the dismal clouds cleared away, a pale, fair, silver moon shone serenely out and looked down on the black charred heaps of ashes strewn through the streets of London. One by one the stars, that all night had been obscured, glanced and sparkled over the sky, and lit up with their soft pale light the doomed and stricken town. Everybody had quitted the dome in terror and consternation, and now Sir Norman, who had been lost in awe, suddenly befold him of his right to the ruin, and hastened to follow their example. Walking rapidly, not to say recklessly along, he abruptly knocked against someone sauntering leisurely before him, and nearly pitched headlong on the pavement. Recovering his centre of gravity by a wild and effort, he turned to see the course of the collision, and found himself accosted by a musical and foreign accented voice. Pardon, said the sweet and rather feminine tones. It was quite an accident, I assure you, monsieur, I had no idea I was in anybody's way. Sir Norman looked at the voice, or rather in the direction whence it came, and found it proceeded from a latin gay livery, with clear colourless face, dark eyes, and exquisite features whereby no means are known. The boy seemed to recognise him at the same moment, and slightly touched his gay cap. Ah, it is Sir Norman Kingsley, just a very person but one in the world that I wanted most to see. Indeed, and pray, whom have I the honour of addressing? In quiet Sir Norman, deeply adafied by the cool familiarity of the Acoster. They call me Ubert, for want of a better name, I suppose, said the lad easily, and may I ask Sir Norman, if you are shot with seven leaked boots, or if your errand is one of life and death, that you stride along at such a terrific rate? And what is that to you, asked Sir Norman, indignant at his free and easy impudence? Nothing, only I should like to keep up with you, if my legs were long enough, and as they are not, and as company is not easily to be had in these fallen streets, I should feel obliged to you if you would just slacken your pace at rifle and take me in tow. The boy's face in the moonlight, in everything but expression, was exactly that of Leo Lin, to which softening circumstance may be attributed Sir Norman's yielding to the request, and allowing the page to keep alongside. I have met you once before tonight, in quiet Sir Norman, after a prolonged and wandering stare at him. Yes, I have a faint recollection of seeing you and Mr. Ormiston on London Bridge a few hours ago, and, by the way, perhaps I may mention I am now in search of that same Mr. Ormiston. You are, and what may you want of him, pray? Just a little information of a private character, perhaps you can direct me to his whereabouts? I should be happy to oblige you, my dear boy, but unfortunately I cannot. I want to see him myself if I could find anyone good enough to direct me to him. Is your business pressing? Very. There is a lady in that case, and such business you are aware is always pressing. Probably you have heard of her, a youthful angel in virgin white, who took a notion to jump into the Thames not a great while ago. Ah, said Sir Norman, with a stare that did not escape the quick eyes of the boy. And what do you want of her? The page glanced at him. Perhaps you know her yourselves, Sir Norman. If so, you will answer quite as well as your friend, as I only want to know where she lives. I have been out of town tonight, said Sir Norman evasively, and there may have been more ladies than one jumped into the Thames during my absence. Pray, describe your angel in white. I did not notice her particularly myself, said the boy with easy indifference, as I am not in the habit of paying much attention to young ladies who run wild about the streets at night and jump promiscuously into rivers. However, this one was rather remarkable, for being dressed as a bride, having long black hair, and a great quantity of jewelry about her and looking very much like me. Having said she looks like me, I need not add she is handsome. Vanity of vanities, all in vanity, murmured Sir Norman meditatively. Perhaps she is a relative of yours, Master Ubert, since you take such an interest in her and she looks so much like you. Not that I know of, said Ubert in his careless way. I believe I was born minus those common domestic afflictions, relatives, and I don't take the slightest interest in her either, don't think it. Then why are you in search of her? For a very good reason, because I've been ordered to do so. By whom, your Master? My Lord Rochester, said that nobleman's page, waving off the insinuation by a motion of his hand and a little displeased frown. He picked her up adrift, and being composed of highly inflamable materials, took a hot and weam and fancy for her, which fact he did not discover until your friend, Mr. Ormiston, had carried her off. Sir Norman scowled. And so he sent you in search of her, has he? Exactly so. And now you perceive the reason why it is quite important that I find Mr. Ormiston. We do not know where he has taken her to, but fancy it must be somewhere near the river. You do, I tell you what it is, my boy, exclaimed Sir Norman, suddenly and in an elevated key. The best thing you can do is to go home and go to bed, and never mind young ladies. You catch the plague before you catch this particular young lady, I can tell you that. Mosey is excited, lifts the lad, raising his head and running his tape of fingers through his glossy dark curls. She has handsome as they say she is, I wonder. Handsome, cried Sir Norman, lighting up with quite a new sensation at the recollection. I tell you, handsome doesn't begin to describe her. She is beautiful, lovely, angelic, divine. Here Sir Norman's litany of adjectives beginning to give out, he came to a sudden hold, with a face as radiant as the sky at sunrise. Ah, I did not believe them when they told me she was so much like me, but if she is as near perfection as you describe, I shall begin to credit it. And is it not, that nature should make a duplicate of her greatest earthly shift-dövre? You conceded young checker-napes, growled Sir Norman in deep displeasure. It is far stranger how such a bundle of vanity can contrive to live in this workaday world. You are a foreigner, I perceive. Yes Sir Norman, I am happy to say I am. You don't like England then? Why'd be sorry to like it? A dirty, baggley, sickly place as I ever saw. Sir Norman eyed the slender specimen of foreign manhood, uttering this sentiment in the sincerest of tones, and let his hand fall heavily on his shoulder. My good youth, be careful. I happen to be a native, and not altogether used to this sort of talk. How long have you been here? Not long I know myself, at least not in the Earl of Rochester service, or I would have seen you. Right, I have not been here a month, but that month has seemed longer than a year elsewhere. Do you know, I imagine when the world was created, this island of yours must have been made late on Saturday night, and stand merely thrown in from the refuse to fill up a dent in the ocean? Sir Norman paused in his walk, and contemplated the speaker a moment in severest silence. But Master Ubert only lifted up his saucy face and laughing black eyes, in dauntless sang foie. Master Ubert began Master Ubert's companion in his deepest and sternest base. I don't know your other name, and it would be of no consequence if I did. Just listen to me a moment. If you don't want to get run through, you perceive a carrier sword, and have an untimely end put to your career, just keep a civil tongue in your head, and don't slander England. Now come on. Ubert laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Thought is free, however, so I can have my own opinion in spite of everything. Will you tell me, Monsieur, where I can find the lady? You will have it, will you? exclaimed Sir Norman, half drawing his sword. Don't ask questions, but answer them. Are you French? Monsieur has guessed it. How long have you been with your present master? Monsieur, I object to that term, said Ubert with calm dignity. Master is a vulgarism that I dislike. So in alluding to his lordship, take the trouble to say patron. Sir Norman laughed, with all my heart. How long then have you been with your present patron? Not quite two weeks. I do not like to be impertinently inquisitive in addressing so dignified a gentleman, but perhaps you would not consider it too great a liberty if I inquired how you became his page. Monsieur shall ask as many questions as he pleases, and it shall not be considered the slightest liberty, said the young gentleman politely. I had been roaming at large about the city and the palace of his majesty, whom may heaven preserve and grant a little more wisdom, in search of a situation, and among that of all nobles of the court, the Earl of Rochester's livery struck me as being the most becoming, and so I concluded to patronize him. What an honour for his lordship! Since you dislike England so much, however, you will probably soon throw up the situation and patronize the first foreign ambassador. Perhaps a rather light white hole, however, old Rowley has taken rather a fancy to me, such the boy speaking with the same easy familiarity of his majesty as he would of a lapdog. And what is better, so has Mr. Stuart, so much so that heaven for fan the king should become jealous. This, however, is strictly entre nous, and is not to be spoken of on any terms. For a secret shall be preserved at the risk of my life, said Sir Norman, laying his hand on the left side of his doublet. And in return, may I ask if you have any relatives living, any sisters, for instance? I see you have a suspicion that the lady in white may be a sister of mine. Well, you may set your mind at rest on that point, for if she is, it is news to me, as I never saw her in my life before tonight. Is she a particular friend of yours, Sir Norman? Never you mind that, my dear boy, but take my advice and don't trouble yourself looking for her, for most assuredly, if you find her, I shall break your head. Much obliged, said Ubert, touching his cap, but nevertheless, I shall risk it. She had the plague, though, when she jumped into the river, and perhaps the best place to find her would be the past house. I shall try. Go, and heaven speed you, yawn less the way to it, and my road lies here. Good night, Master Ubert. Good night, Sir Norman, responded the page, bowing airily. And if I do not find the lady tonight, most assuredly, I shall do so tomorrow. Turning along a road leading to the past house, and laughing as he went, the boy disappeared. Being lest a page should follow him, and thereby discover a clue to Leolin's abode, Sir Norman turned into a street some distance from the house, and waited in the shadow until he was out of sight. Then he came forth, and, full of impatience to get back to the ruin, hurried on to where he had left his house. He was still in the care of the watchman, whom he repaid for his trouble. And as he sprang on his back, he glanced up at the windows of Leolin's house. It was all buried in profound darkness, but that one window from which that faint light streamed, and he knew that she had not yet gone to rest. For a moment he lingered and looked at it in the absolute way lovers will look, and was presently rewarded by seeing what he watched for. A shadow flit between him and the light. His sight was a strong temptation to him to dismount and enter, and, under pretence of warning her against the Earl of Rochester and his pretty page, see her once again. But reflection, stepping rebukingly up to him, whispered indignantly that his lady-law was probably by this time in her night-robe, and not at home to lovers. And Sir Norman respectfully bowed to reflection's superior wisdom. He thought of Hubert's words, if I do not find her tonight, I shall most assuredly tomorrow. And a chill presentiment of coming evil fell upon him. Tomorrow, he said, as he turned to go, who knows what tomorrow may bring forth? Fairest and dearest Leolin, good night. He rode away in the moonlight, with the stars shining peacefully down upon him. His heart at the moment was a divided one, one half being given to Leolin, and the other to the midnight queen and her mysterious court. The farther he went away from Leolin, the dimmer her star became in the horizon of his thoughts. And the nearer he came to Miranda, the brighter and more eagerly she loomed up, until he spurred his horse to a most furious gallop, lest he should find the castle and the queen lost in the regions of space when he got there. Once the plague-stricken city lay behind him, his journey was short, and soon, to his great delight, he turned into the silent, deserted by-path leading to the ruin. Tying his horse to a stake in the crumbling wall, he paused for a moment to look at it in the pale, one light of the midnight moon. He had looked at it many a time before, but never with the same interest as now. And the ruined battlements, the fallen roof, the broken windows and mouldering sides, had all a new and weird interest for him. No one was visible far near, and feeling that his horse was secure in the shadow of the wall, he entered and walked lightly and rapidly along in the direction of the spiral staircase. With more haste, but the same precaution, he descended and passed through the walls, to where he knew the loose flagstone was. It was well he did know, for there was neither strain of music nor ray of light to guide him now, and his heart sank to zero as he thought he might raise the stone and discover nothing. His hand positively trembled with eagerness as he lifted it, and with unbounded delight not to be described, looked down on the same titled assembly he had watched before. But there had been a change since, half the lights were extinguished, and the great vaulted room was comparatively in shadow. The music had entirely died away, and all was solemnly silent. But what puzzled Sir Norman most of all, was the fact that there seemed to be a trial of achemy sort going on. A long table, covered with green velvet and looking not unlike a modern billiard table, stood at the right of the Queen's crimson throne. And behind it, perched in a high chair, and wearing a long solemn black robe, sat a small thick personage whose skin Sir Norman would have known on the bush. He glanced at the lower throne and found it as he expected empty, and he saw at once that his little highness was not only Prince Consort, but also a supreme judge in the kingdom. Two or three similar black-robed gentry, among whom was recognizable the noble Duke, who so narrowly escaped with his life under the sorts of Sir Norman and Count Littorch. Before this solemn conclave stood a man who was evidently the prisoner on the trial, and who wore the whitest and most frightened face Sir Norman thought he had ever beheld. The Queen was lounging negligently back on her throne, paying very little attention to the solemn rites, occasionally gossiping with some of the snow-white silves beside her, and often yawning behind her pretty fingertips, and evidently very much bored by it all. The rest of the company were decorously seated in the crimson and gilded armchairs, some listening with interest to what was going on, others holding whispered tethered teds, and all very still and respectful. Sir Norman's interest was aroused to the highest pitch. He imprudently leaned forward too far, in order to hear and see, and lost his balance. He felt he was going and tried to stop himself, but in vain. And seeing there was no help for it, he made a sudden spring, and landed right in the midst of the assembly. CHAPTER 11 THE EXECUTION In an instant all was confusion. Everybody sprang to their feet, ladies shrieked in chorus, gentlemen swore, and drew their swords and looked to see if they might not expect a whole army to drop from the sky upon them as they stood. No other battalion, however, followed this forlorn hope, and seeing it, the gentlemen took heart of grace and closed around the unceremonious intruder. The queen had sprung from a royal seat, and stood with a bright lips parted and her brighter eyes dilating in speechless wonder. The bench, with the judge at their head, had followed her example, and stood staring with all their might, looking, truth to tell, as much subtle by the sudden apparition as the fair sacks. The sad fair sacks were still firing off little volleys of screams and chorus, and clinging desperately to their cavaliers, and everything, in a word, was in most admired disorder. Tamo Shanta's cry, well done, cutty sock, could not have produced half such a commotion among his hellish legion, as the empathic debut of the Norman Kingsley among these human revelers. The only one who seemed rather to enjoy it than otherwise was the prisoner who was quietly and quickly making off when a malevolent and irrepressible dwarf aspired him, and one shock-acting as counter-irrigent to the other, he bounced fleedly over the table and grabbed him in his grab-like claws. The lady stopped screaming, the gentleman ceased swearing, and more than one exclamation of astonishment followed the cries of terror. So Norman Kingsley, so Norman Kingsley, rang from lip to lip of those who recognized him, and all drew closer and looked at him, as if they really could not make up their mind to believe their eyes. As for so Norman himself, that gentleman was a dust of literary, if not metaphorically, to fall on his legs that night, and had a lighted on the crimson velvet carpet cat-like on his feet. In reference to his feelings, his first was one of frantic disapproval going down, his second, one of intense astonishment of finding himself there with unbroken bones, his third, disagreeable conviction that he had about put his foot in it, and was an excessively bad fix, and last, but not least, a firm and rude determination to make the best of a bad bargain, and never said I. His first act was to take off his plumed hat and make a profound obeisance to her majesty the queen, who was altogether too much surprised to make the return politely demanded, and merely stared at him with a great, beautiful, brilliant eyes as if she would never have done. Ladies and gentlemen, said Sir Norman, turning gracefully to the company, I beg ten thousand pardons for this unwardable intrusion, and promise you, upon my honour, never to do it again, I beg to assure you that my coming here was altogether involuntary in my part, and forced by circumstances of which I had no control, and I entreat you will not mind me in the least, but go in with the proceedings just as you did before. Should you feel my presence here any restraint, I am quite ready and willing to take my departure at any moment, and as I before insinuated, will promise, on the honour of a gentleman and a knight, never again to take the liberty of tumbling through the ceiling down on your heads. This reference to the ceiling seemed to explain the whole mystery, and everybody looked up at the corner once he came from, and saw the flag that had been removed. As to his speech, everybody had listened to it with the greatest of attention, and suddenly of the ladies, convinced by this time that he was flesh and blood and no ghost, favoured the handsome young knight with diverse glances, not at all displeased or unadmiring. The Queen sank back into her seat, keeping him still transfixed with a darkly splendid eyes, and whether she admired or otherwise, no one could tell from a still calm face. The Prince Concert's feelings, for such there could be no doubt he was, were involved in no such mystery, and he broke out into a hyena-like scream of laughter, as he recognised, upon a second look, his young friend of the Golden Crown. So you have come, have you? he cried, thrusting his unlovely visage over the table, to the almost-touched sonormons. You have come, have you, after all I said? Yes, sir, I have come, said Sir Norman, with the polite bow. Perhaps you don't know me, my dear young sir, your little friend, you know, of the Golden Crown. Oh, I perfectly recognise you, my little friend, said Sir Norman, with bland suvavity and unconsciously quote to Leolene. One scene is not easily forgotten. Upon this his hyena set up such another screech of mirth that it's quite woke and echoed through the room, and all Sir Norman's friends looked grave, for when his hyena's left, it was a very bad sign. My little friend will hurt himself, remarked Sir Norman with an air of solitude, if he indulges in his exuberant and gleeful spirits to such an extent. Let me recommend you, as a well-wisher, to sit down and converse yourself. Instead of complying, however, the Prince, who seems blessed with a lively sense of the ludicrous, was so struck with the extreme funniness of the young man's speech that he relaxed into another paroxysm of levity, swiller and more unearthly, if possible, than any preceding one, and which left him so exhausted that he was forced to sink back into his chair and into silence through sheer fatigue. Seizing this, the first opportunity, Miranda, with a glance of Dick's pleased dignity at Caliburn, immediately struck in. Who are you, sir? And by what right do you dare to come here? Her tone was neither very sweet nor suave, but it was much pleasanter to be cross-examined by the owner of such a pretty face, than by the ugly little monster, for the moment to gasp again extinguished, and Sir Norman turned to her with alacrity and bow. Madam, I am Sir Norman Kingsley, very much at your service, and I beg to assure you I did not come here, but fall here, through that hole, if you perceive, and very much against my will. Equification will not serve you in this case, sir, said the Queen, with an austere dignity, and, allow me to observe, it is just probable you would not have fallen through that hole in our royal ceiling if you had kept away from it. You raised that flag yourself? Did you not? Madam, I fear I must say yes. And why did you do so? demanded Her Majesty, with far more sharp as parity than Sir Norman dreamed could ever come from such beautiful lips. The rumour of Queen Miranda's charms has gone forth, and I fear I must own that rumour-droomy hither, responded Sir Norman, inventing a polite little work of fiction for the occasion. And let me add, that I came to find that rumour had underrated instead of exaggerated Her Majesty's sad charms. Here Sir Norman, whose spine seemed in danger of becoming the shape of a rainbow, in excess of good reading, made another genuflection before the Queen, with this hand over the region of his heart. Miranda tried to look grave, and were that expression of severe solemnity, I am taught, Queens and rich people always do, but, in spite of herself, a little pleased smile rippled over her face, and, noticing it, and the bow and speech, the Prince subtly and sharply set up as such another screech of laughter as no steamboat or locomotive in the present age of steam, could begin to equal in godliness. Will your Highness have the goodness to hold your tongue, inquired the Queen, with much dearer look of Mrs. Cordell, and allow me to ask the stranger a few questions that interrupted. Sir Norman Kingsley, how long have you been above there, listening and looking on? By them I was not there five minutes once suddenly, and to my great surprise, found myself here. A lie, a lie, exclaimed the dwarf furiously. It is over two hours since I met you at the bar of the Golden Crown. My dear little friend, Sir Norman, drawing his sword and flourishing it within an inch of the royal nose, just make that remark again, and my sword will cleave your pretty head at the cemetery of Saladin, clove the cushion of down. I earnestly assure you, madam, that I had but just out down to look, but I discovered to my dismay that I was no longer there but at your charming presence. In that case, my lords and gentlemen, said the Queen, plouncing blantly around the apartment, he has witnessed nothing and therefore merits but a slight punishment. Permit me, Your Majesty, said the Duke, who had read the Role of Death and who had been eyeing Sir Norman sharply for some time. Permit me one moment. This is the very individual who slew the Earl of Ashley while his companion was doing for my Lord Craven. Sir Norman Kingsley, said his grace, turning with awful impressiveness to that young person, do you know me? Quite as well as I wish to, answered Sir Norman, with a cool and rather contemptuous glance in his direction. You look extremely like a certain highwayman with the most villainous countenance I encountered a few hours back, and whom I would have made mince of if he had not been coward enough to fly. Probably you may be the name, you look fit for that or anything else. Cut him down, dash his brains out, run him through, shoot him! Or a few of the mild and pleasant insinuations that went off on every side of him, like a fierce volley of pop-guns and a score of bright blades fleshed blue and threatening on every side, while the Prince broke out into another shriek of laughter that rang high overall. Sir Norman drew his own sword and stood in a defence. Breathed one thought to Leolene, gave himself up for lost, but before quite doing so, to use the phrase not altogether as original as it might be, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. Angry eyes and fierce faces were on every hand, at his dreams of metramony and Leolene seemed about to terminate then and there, and look came to his side in the shape of her most gracious majesty to Queen. Springing to her feet, she waved her scepter while her black eyes fleshed as fiercely as the best of them, and her voice rang out like a trumpet tone. Sheath your swords, my lords, and back, every man of you! Not one hair of his head shall fall without my permission, and the first who lays hands on him until that consent is given shall die if I have to shoot him myself. So Norman Kingsley, stand near and fear not. At his peril, let one of them touch you. Norman bent one knee and raised the gracious hand to his lips. At the fears, ringing, imperious tone, all involuntarily fell back, as if they were accustomed to obey it, and the prince, who seemed to-night in an uncommonly facetious mood, laughed again, long and shrill. What are your majesty's commands? Asked a discomforted duke, rather circular. Is this insulting interloper to go free? That is no affair of yours, my lord duke, answered a spirited voice of the queen. Be good enough to finish Lord Gloster's trial, and until then I will be responsible for the safekeeping of Sir Norman Kingsley. And after that, he used to go free, your majesty, said the dwarf, laughing to that extent that he ran the risk of rupturing an artery. After that, it shall be precisely as I please, replied the ringing voice, while the black eyes fleshed anything but loving glances upon him. While I am queen here, I shall be obeyed, but I am queen no longer. You may do as you please. My lords, turning a passionate beautiful face to the hushed audience, am I or am I not sovereign here? Madam, you alone are a sovereign lady and queen. Then, when I can't ascend to command, you shall obey. Do you, your highness, and you, lord duke, go on with the Earl of Glaster's trial, and I will be the strangest jailer. She is right, said the dwarf, his fierce little eyes gleaming with a millenian light. Let us do one thing before another, and after we have settled Gloster here, we will return to this man's case. Guards, keep a sharp eye on your new prisoner. Ladies and gentlemen, be good enough to resume your seats. Now, your grace, continue the trial. Why did we leave off? inquired his grace, looking rather at a loss, and scowling vengeance dire at the handsome queen and her handsome protege, as he sank back in his chair of state. The Earl was confessing his guilt or about to do so. Pray, my lord, said the dwarf, glaring upon the pallet prisoner. Why are you not saying you had betrayed us to the king? A breathless silence followed to question. Everybody seemed to hold his very breath to listen. Even the queen leaned forward and awaited to answer eagerly, and the many eyes that had been riveted on Sir Norman since his entrance left him now for the first time and settled on the prisoner. A pitchy aspect to all that prisoner was, his face whitered under snowy nymphs behind the throne, and so distorted with fear, fury, and guilt, that it looked scarcely human. Twice he opened his eyes to reply, and twice all sounds died away in a choking gasp. Do you hear his highness, sharply inquired the Lord High Chancellor, reaching over the great seal, and giving the unhappy Earl of Gloucester a wrap on the head with it? Why do you not answer? Pardon, pardon, exclaimed the Earl in a husky whisper. Do not believe the tales that tell you of me. For heaven's sake, spare my life! Confess, thundered dwarf, striking the table with his clenched fist, until all the papers thereon jumped past modically into the air. Confess at once, or I shall run you through where you stand. The Earl, with a perfect screech of terror, flung himself flat upon his face and hands before the queen, with such force that Sir Norman expected to see his countenance make a hole in the floor. Oh, madame, spare me! Spare me! Spare me! Have mercy on me as you hope for mercy yourself! She recoiled, and drew back her very garments from his touch, as if that touch was pollution, eyeing him the while with a glance frigid and pitiless as death. There is no mercy for traitors, she coldly said. Confess your guilt, and expect no pardon from me. Lift him up! shouted the dwarf, clawing the arrow with his hands as if he could have clawed the heart out of his victim's body. Back with him to his place, guards, and see that he does not leave it again. Squirming and writhing and twisting himself in their grasp, in very uncomfortable and ear-like fashion, the Earl was dragged back to his place, and forcibly held there by two of the guards, while his face grew so ghastly and convulsed that Sir Norman turned away his head, and could not bear to look at it. Confess! once more yelled the dwarf in a terrible voice, while his still more terrible eyes flashed sparks of fire. Confess! or by all that secret it shall be tortured out of you! Guards, bring me the thump screws, and let us see if they will not exercise a dumb devil by which our ghastly friend is possessed. No! no! no! shrieked the Earl, while the firm flew from his lips. I confess! I confess! I confess! Good! and what do you confess? said the Duke bluntly, leaning forward, while the dwarf fell back with a yell of laughter at the success of his ruse. I confess all, everything, anything, only spare my life. Do you confess to having told Charles, King of England, the secrets of our kingdom and this place? said the Duke, sternly wrapping down the petition with a royal parchment. The Earl grew, if possible, a more ghastly white. I do, I must, but oh, for love of never mind love! continued the inexorable Duke. It is a subject that has nothing whatsoever to do with the present case. Did you or did you not receive for the aforesaid information a large sum of money? I did, but my lord, my lord, spare which sum of money you have concealed, continued the Duke, with another frown and a sharp wrap. Now the question is, where have you concealed it? I will tell you, with all my heart, only spare my life. Tell us first, and we will think about your life afterward. Let me advise you, as a friend, my lord, to tell at once, and truthfully, said the Duke, toying negligently with the thump screws. It is buried at the north corner of the old wall at the head of Bertrand's grave. You shall have that and a thousand fold more if you will only pardon enough, broken the dwarf, with the look and tone of an exhortant demon. That is all we want. My lord, Duke, give me the death warrant, and while the Majesty signs it, I will pronounce his doom. The Duke handed him a roll of parchment, which he glanced critically over and handed to the Queen for a autograph. That royal lady, spread the vellum on her knee, took the pen, and fixed the signature as coolly as if she were indenting the sonnet in an album. Then his highness, with a face that's fairly skin-delayed with demonic delight, stood up and fixed his eyes on the ghastly prisoner, and spoke in a voice that reverberated like the tolling of a death-bell through the room. My lord Gloucester, you have been tried by a council of your fellow peers, presided over by her royal self and found guilty of high treason. Your sentence is that you be taken hence immediately to the block, and there be beheaded in punishment of your crime. His highness wound up this somewhat solemn speech, rather inconsistently, bursting out into one of his trittest peals of laughter, and the miserable earl of Gloucester, with the gasping unearthly cry, fell back in the arms of the attendants. Dead and oppressive silence reigned, and Snorman, who half-believed all along the whole thing was a farce, began to feel an uncomfortable sense of chill creeping over him, and to think that, though practical jokes were excellent things in their way, there was yet a possibility of carrying them a little too far. The disagreeable silence was first broken by the dwarf, who, after gloating for a moment over his victims' convulsive spasms, sprang nimbly from his chair of dignity and held out his arm to the queen. The queen arose, which seemed to be a sign for everybody else due the same, and all began forming themselves in a sort of line of march. What is to be done with this other prisoner, your highness, inquired the duke, making a pope with his forefinger as Snorman? Is he to stay here, or is he to accompany us? His highness turned around, and putting his face close up to Snorman's, favoured him with a malignant grin. You'd like to come, wouldn't you, my dear young friend? Really, said Snorman, drawing back and returning the dwarf's stare with compound interest. That depends all together on the nature of the entertainment, but, at the same time, I am much obliged to you for consulting my inclinations. This reply nearly overset his highness's gravity once more, but he tracked his mirth after the first irresistible squeal, and finally the company were all arranged in the order of going, and awaiting a sovereign pleasure. He turned. Let him come, he said, with his countenance still distorted by inward merriment. It will do him good to see how we punish offenders here, and teach him what he is to expect himself. Is your majesty ready? My majesty has been ready and waiting for the last five minutes, replied the lady, overlooking his proffered hand with grand disdain, and stepping down lightly from her throne. Horizon was the sinuel for the unseen band to strike up a grand triumphant, E. L. Payon, though, had the rogue's march been a popular melody in those times, it would have suited the procession much more admirably. The queen and the dwarf went first, and a vivid contrast there were. She is so young, so beautiful, so proud, so disdainfully called. He is so ugly, so stunted, so deformed, so fiendish. After them went a band of silks in white, and a chancellor, archbishop, and ambassadors, next to her court of ladies and gentlemen, and after them so Norman, in the custody of two of the soldiers. The condemned Earl came last, or rather allowed himself to be dragged by his four guards, for he seemed to have become perfectly pulsed and dumped with fear. Keeping time through the triumphant march, and preserving dismal silence, the procession wound its way along the room, and through the great archway, hear the four hidden by the tapestry now lifted lightly by the nymphs. A long stone passage, carpeted with crimson and gold, and brilliantly illuminated like the grand saloon they had left, was thus revealed, and three similar archways appeared at the extremity, one to the right and left, and one directly before them. The procession passed through the one on the left, and Sir Norman started in his maid to find himself in the most gloomy apartment he had ever beheld in his life. It was all covered with black, walls, ceiling and floor with draped and black, and reminded him forcibly of Lamarck's chamber of horrors, only this was more repellent. It was lighted, or rather, the gloom was troubled, by a few spectral tapers of black wax in abony candlesticks that seemed absolutely to turn black, and make the horrible place more horrible. There was no furniture, neither couch, chair nor table, nothing, but a sort of stage at the up-round of the room, with something that looked like a seat upon it, and both were shrouded with the same dismal drapery. But it was no seat, for everybody stood, arranging themselves silently and noiselessly around the walls, with the queen and the dwarf at their head, and made his elevations through the tall black statue wearing a mask and leaning on a bright, dreadful glittering axe. The music changed to an unearthly dirge, so weird and blood curdling that Sir Norman could have put his hand over his eardrums to shut out the ghastly sound. The dismal room, the voiceless spectators, the black specter with the glittering axe, the fearful music, struck a chill to his inmost heart. Could it be possible they were really going to murder the unhappy wretch, and could all those beautiful ladies, could that surpassingly beautiful queen, stern their serenely, unmoved, to witness such a crime? While he yet looked around in horror, the doomed man, already apparently almost dead with fear, was dragged forward by his guards. Paralyzed as he was, at sight of the stage which he knew to be discaffold, he uttered shriek after shriek of frenzy despair, and struggled like a madman to get free. But as well might Lyocon have struggled in the force of the serpent. They pulled him on, bound him hand and foot, and held his head forcibly down on the block. The black specter moved, the dwarf made a senile, the glittering axe was raised, fell, a scream was cut in two, a bright jet of blood spouted up in the sword's faces, blinding them. The axe fell again, and the Earl of Gloucester was a minus than useful and ornamental appendage ahead. It was all over so quickly that Sonormon could scarcely believe his horrified senses until the deed was done. The executioner threw a black cloth over the bleeding trunk, and held up the grisly head by the hair, and Sonormon could have sworn the features moved, and the dead eyes rolled round the room. Behold! cried the executioner, striking the convulsed face with the palm of his open hand. The fate of all traitors, and of all spies exclaimed the dwarf, glaring with his finnish eyes upon the appalled Sonormon. Keep your axe sharp and bright, Mr. Executioner, for before morning dawns there was another gentleman here to be made shorter by a head. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of The Midnight Queen This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Chessie, The Midnight Queen by Mae Agnes Flemming, Chapter 12 Doom Let us go, said the Queen, glancing at the revolting side, and turning away with a shudder of repulsion. Wow! The sight of blood has made me sick. And taken away my appetite for supper, added a youthful and elegant beauty beside her. My Lord Gloster was hideous enough in living, but Maudieux, he's ten times more so when dead. Your ladyship will not have the same story to tell of Yonder Stranger when he shares the same fate in an hour or two, said the dwarf, with a malicious grin. For I heard Yuri marking upon his extreme beauty when he first appeared. The lady laughed and bowed, and turned her bright eyes upon Sonormon. True, it is almost a pity to cut such a handsome head off, is it not? I wish I had a voice in your highnesses' counsel, and I know what I should do. What Lady Maudieux? And treat him to swear fealty, and become one of us, and… And a bridegroom for your ladyship? Suggested the Queen with a curling lip. I think if Sonormon Kingsley knew Lady Maudieux as well as I do, he would even prefer to block to such a fate. Lady Maudieux's brilliant eyes shone like two angry meteors, but she merely bowed and laughed, and the laugh was echoed by the dwarf in his shrillest falsetto. Does your highness intend remaining here all night? Demanded the Queen rather fiercely. If not, the sooner we leave this ghastly place, the better. The play is over and supper is waiting. With which the royal virago made an imperious motion for her attendant's brides and gossamer white to precede her, and turned with her accustomed stately step to follow. The music immediately changed from its doleful dirge to a spirited measure, and the whole company flocked after her back to the great room of state. There they all posed, hovering in uncertainty around the room, while the Queen, holding her purple train up lightly in one hand, stood at the foot of the throne, glancing at them with her cold, haughty, and beautiful eyes. In their wandering, those same, darkly splendid eyes glanced and lighted on Sonormon, who, in a state of seeming stupor at the horrible scene he had just witnessed, stood near the green table, and they sent a thrill through him with their wonderful resemblance to Leo Lin's. So vividly alike were they that he half doubted for a moment whether she and Leo Lin were not really one. But no, Leo Lin never could have had the cold, cruel heart to stand and witness such a horrible sight. Miranda's dark, piercing glance fell as hortily and disdainfully on him as it had on the rest, and his heart sank as he thought that whatever sympathy she had felt for him was entirely gone. It might have been a whim, a woman's caprice, a spirit of contradiction that had induced her to defend him at first. Whatever it was, and it mattered not now, it had completely vanished. No face of marble could have been colder or stonier or harder than hers, as she looked at him out of the depths of her great dark eyes, and with that look his last lingering hope of life vanished. And now for the next trial, exclaimed the dwarf, briskly breaking in upon his drab colored meditations and bustling past. We will get it over at once and have done with it. You will do no such thing, said the imperious wise of the queenly shrew. We will have neither trials nor anything else until after supper, which has already been delayed for full minutes. My Lord Chamberlain, have the goodness to step in and see that all is in order. One of the gilded and decorated gentleman, whom Sir Norman had mistaken for ambassadors, stepped off in obedience, through another opening in a tapestry, which seemed to be as extensively undermined with such apertures as a capman's coat with capes. And while he was gone, the queen stood drawn up to her full height, with a scornful face looking down on the dwarf. That small man knit up his very plain face into a bristle of the sourest kings, and frowned Salki disapproval at an order which he either would not or dared not countermand. Probably the latter had most to do with it, as everybody looked hungry and mutinous, and a great deal more eager for their supper than the life of Sir Norman Kingsley. Your Majesty, the royal banquet is waiting, insinuated the Lord High Chamberlain, returning and bending over until his face and his shoebuckles almost touched. And what is to be done with this prisoner while we are eating it? Growled the dwarf, looking drawn souls at his leech lady. He can remain here under care of the guards, can he not? she retorted sharply. Or if you are afraid they are not equal to taking care of him, you had better stay and watch him yourself. With which answer Her Majesty sailed majestically away, leaving the gentleman addressed to follow or not, as he pleased. It pleased him to do so on the whole, and he went after her, growling anathemas between his royal teeth, and evidently in the same state of mind that induces gentleman in private life to take sticks to the aggravating spouses under similar circumstances. However, it might not be just a thing perhaps for kings and queens to take broomsticks to settle their little differences of opinion like common Christians. And so the prince peaceably followed her and entered the Salamonger with the rest, and the Norman and his keepers were left in the Hall of State, monarchs of all this await. Notwithstanding he knew his hours were numbered, the young knight could not avoid feeling curious, and the tapestry having been drawn aside, he looked through the arch with a good deal of interest. The apartment was smaller than the one in which he stood, though still very large, and instead of being all crimson and gold, was glancing and glittering with blue and silver. These azure hangings were of satin instead of velvet, and looked quite light and cool compared to the hot glowing place where he was. The ceiling was spangled over with silver stars, with the royal arms quartered in the middle, and the chairs were of white polished wood, gleaming like ivory and cushioned with blue satin. The table was of immense length as it had need to be, and flashed and sparkled in the wax lights with heaps of gold and silver plate, cut glass and precious porcelain. Gold and crimson vines shone in the carved decanters. Great silver baskets of fruit were strewn about with piles of cakes and confectionery, not to speak of more solid substantial, wherein the heart of every true Englishman delighteth. The queen sat in a great raised chair at the head, and helped herself without paying much attention to anybody, and the remainder were ranged down its length according to their rank, which as they were all pretty much dukes and duchesses, was about equal. The spirits of the company, depressed for a moment by the unpleasant little circumstance of seeing one of their number beheaded, seemed to revive under the spirituous influence of sherry, sack and burgundy, and soon they were laughing and chatting and hobnobbing as animatedly as any dinner parties a Norman had ever seen. The musicians too appeared to be in high fatter, and the merriest music of the day assisted the noble banquetor's digestion. Under ordinary circumstances it was rather a tantalizing scene to stand aloof and contemplate, and so the guards very likely felt. But Sir Norman's thoughts were of that room in black, the headman's axe, and Leolin. He felt he would never see her again, never see the sunrise that was to shine on their bridle, and he wondered what she would think of him, and if she was destined to fall into the hands of Lord Rochester or Count Littorch. As a general thing, our young friend was not given to melancholy moralizing, but in the present case, with the headman's axe poised like the sword of Democlese above him by a single hair, he may be pardoned for reflecting that this world is all a fleeting show, and that he had got himself into a scrape to which the plague was a trifle. And yet, with nervous impatience, he wished the dinner and his trial were over, his fate sealed, and his life ended at once, since it was to be ended soon. For the fulfillment of the first wish he had not longed to wait. The feast, though gay and grand, was of the briefest, and they could have scarcely been half an hour gone when they were all back. Everybody seemed in better humor, too, after the refaction, but the Queen and the Dwarf. The former looked colder and harder, and more like a Labrador iceberg tricked out in purple velvet than ever, and his highness was grinning from ear to ear, which was the very worst possible sign. Not even Her Majesty could make the slightest excuse for delaying the trial now, and indeed that eccentric lady seemed to have no wish to do so had she the power, but seated herself in silent disdain of them all, and dropping her long lashes over her dark eyes, seemed to forget there was anybody in existence but herself. His highness and his nobles took their stations of authority behind the green table, and summoned the guards to lead the prisoner up before them, which was done. While the rest of the company were fluttering down into their seats, and evidently about to pay the greatest attention. The cases in this midnight court seemed to be conducted on a decidedly original plan, and with an easy rapidity that would have electrified any other court, ancient or modern. So Norman took his stand, and eyed his judges with a look half contemptuous, half defiant, and the proceedings commenced by the dwarf leaning forward and breaking into a roar of laughter right in his face. My little friend, I want you before not to be so facetious, said Sir Norman regarding him quietly. A rush of mirth to the brain will certainly be the death of you one of these day. No levity young man, and opposed the Lord Chancellor rebukingly. Remember, you are addressing his royal highness, Prince Caliban, spouse and consort of her most gracious majesty, Miranda. Indeed, that all I have to say is that her majesty has very bad taste in the selection of her husband, unless indeed her wish was to marry the ugliest man in the world, as she herself is the most beautiful of women. Her majesty took not the slightest notice of this compliment, not so much as a flatter of her drooping eyelashes betrayed that she even heard it, but his highness laughed until he was perfectly hoarse. Silence, shouted the duke, shocked and indignant at this glaring disrespect, and answered truthfully the questions put to you. Your name, you say, is Sir Norman Kingsley. Yes, has your grace any objection to it? His grace waived down the interruption with a dignified wave of the hand, and went on with severe judicial dignity. You are the same who shot Lord Ashley between this and the city some hours ago. I had the pleasure of shooting a highway man there, and my only regret is I did not perform the same good office by his companion in the person of your noble self before you turn and fled. A slight titter ran round the room, and the duke turned crimson. These remarks are impertinent and not to the purpose. You are the murderer of Lord Ashley, let that suffice. Probably you were on your way hither when you did the deed. He was, said the dwarf vindictively, I met him at the golden crown but a short time after. Very well, there is another point settled, and either of them is strong enough to seal his death warrant. You came here as a spy, to see and hear and report. Probably you were sent by King Charles. Probably just think as you please about it, said Sir Norman, who knew his case was as desperate as it could be, and was quite reckless what he answered. You admit that you are a spy then? No such thing, I have owned nothing. As I told you before, you are welcome to put what construction you please on my actions. Sir Norman Kingsley, this is nonsensical equivocation. You own you came to hear and see. Well? Well, hearing and seeing constitute spying, do they not? Therefore you are a spy. I confess it looks like it. What next? Need you ask? What is the fate of old spies? No matter what they are in other places, I am pretty certain what they are here. And that is? A room in black, and a chop with an axe, the Earl of Gloucester's fate in a word. You have said it, have you any reason why such a sentence should not be pronounced on you? None pronounce it as soon as you like. With the greatest pleasure, said the Duke, who had been scrolling on another ominous roll of vellum, and now passed it to the Dwarf. I never knew anyone it gave me more delight to condemn, though Your Highness passed that to Her Majesty for signature and pronounced his sentence. His Highness, with a grin of most exquisite delight, did as directed, and Sir Norman looked steadfastly at the Queen as she received it. One of the gauzy nymphs presented it to her, kneeling, and she took it with a look half bored, half impatient, and lightly squirreled her autograph. The long dark lashes did not lift, no change passed over the calm cold face, as icily placid as a frozen lake in the moonlight. Evidently the life or death of the stranger was less than nothing to her. To him she too was as nothing, or nearly so, but yet there was a sharp sharing pain at his heart, as he saw that fair hand that had saved him once, so coolly sign his death warrant now. But there was little time left to watch her, for as she pushed it impatiently away, and relapsed into her former proud listlessness, the Dwarf got up with one of his death's head grins, and began. Sir Norman Kingsley, you have been tried and convicted as a spy, and the paid hireling of the vindictive and narrow-minded charts, and the sentence of this court, over which I have the honour to preside, is that you be taken hence immediately to the place of execution, and there lose your head by the axe. And the mighty small-loss it will be, remarked the duke to himself in a sort of parentheses, as the Dwarf concluded his pleasant observation by thrusting himself forward across the table, after his rather discomposing fashion, and breaking out into one of his diabolical laughter-claps. The queen, who had been sitting passive, and looking as if she were in spirit a thousand miles away, now started up with sharp suddenness, and favoured his highness with one of her fireiest fiery glances. Will your highness just permit somebody else to have a voice in that matter? How many more trials are to come on to-night? Only one, replied the duke, glancing over a little roll which he held. Lady Castlemains, for poisoning the Duchess of Sutherland, and what is my Lady Castlemains' fate to be? The same as our friends here in our probability, nodding easily, not to say playfully, as a Norman. And how long will her trial last? Half an hour, or thereabouts, there are some secrets in the matter that have to be investigated, and which will require some time. Then let all the trials be over first, and all the beheadings take place together. We don't choose to take the trouble of traveling to the black chamber just to see his head chopped off, and then have the same journey to undergo half an hour after for a similar purpose. Call Lady Castlemains and let this prisoner be taken to one of the dungeons, and there remain until the time for execution. Guards, do you hear? Take him away. The dwarf's face grew black as a thunder cloud, and he jumped to his feet and confronted the queen with a look so intensely ugly that no other earthly face could have assumed it. But that lady merely meted with one of cold disdain and aversion, and, keeping her dark bright eyes fixed chillingly upon him, waved her white hand in her imperious way to the guards. Those warlike gentlemen knew better than to disobey her most gracious majesty when she happened to be, like Mrs. Joey Gargory, on the rampage, which, if a flashing eye and a certain expression about her handsome mouth spoke the truth, must have been twenty hours out of the twenty-four. As the soldiers approached to lead him away, Sonorman tried to catch her eye, but in vain, for she kept those brilliant optics most unwrinkingly fixed on the dwarf's face. Call Lady Castlemain, commanded the duke, as a Norman with his guards passed through the doorway leading to the black chamber. Your highness, I presume, is ready to attend to her case. Before I attend to hers or anyone else's case, set the dwarf, hopping over the table like an overgrown toad. I will first see that this guest of ours is properly taken care of and does not leave us without the ceremony of saying goodbye, with which he seized one of the wax candles and trotted with rather unprincely haste after Sonorman and his conductors. The young knight had been let down the same long passage he had walked through before, but instead of entering the chamber of horrors, they passed through the centre arch and found themselves in another, long, vaulted corridor, dimly lit by the glow of the outer one. It was as cold and dismal a place, Sonorman thought, as he had ever seen, and it had an odour damp and earthy end of the grave. It had two or three great, ponderous doors on either side, fastened with huge iron bolts, and before one of these his conductors posed. Just as they did so, the glimmer of the dwarf's taper pierced the gloom, and the next moment, smiling from ear to ear, he was by their side. Down with the bars, he cried, this is the one for him, the strongest and safest of them all. Now, my dashing courtier, you will see how tenderly your little friend provides for his favourites. If Sonorman made any reply, it was drowned in the rattle and clank of the massive bars, and is hopelessly lost to posterity. The huge door swung back, but nothing was visible but a sort of black velvet pole, and if Louvia much stronger than sweet. Involuntarily, he recoiled as one of the guards made a motion for him to enter. Shove him in, shove him in, shrieked the dwarf, who was getting so excited with glee, that he was dancing about in a sort of jig of delight. In with him, in with him, if he won't go peaceably, kick him in head foremost. I would strongly advise them not to try it, said Sonorman as he stepped into the blackness, if they have any regard for their health. It does not make much difference after all, my little friend, whether I spent the next half hour in the inky blackness of this place, or the blood-red grandeur of your royal court. My little friend, until we meet again, permit me to say au revoir. The dwarf laughed in his pleasant way, and pushed the candle cautiously inside the door. Goodbye for a little while, my dear young sir, and while the head's man is sharpening his axe, I'll leave you to think about your little friend. Lest you should lack amusement, I'll leave you a lie to contemplate your apartment. And for fear you may get lonesome, these two gentlemen will stand outside your door with their swords drawn till I come back. Goodbye, my dear young sir, goodbye. The dungeon door swung, too, with a tremendous bang. Sonorman was barred in his prison to await his doom, and the dwarf was skipping along the passage with sprightliness, laughing as he went. End of chapter 12 Chapter 13 of the Midnight Queen This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Doreline Kaplan, the Midnight Queen, by May Agnes Fleming, Chapter 13. Probably not one of you, my dear friends, who glance graciously over this, was ever shut up in a dungeon under expectation of bearing the unpleasant operation of decapitation within half an hour. It never happened to myself, either, that I can recollect. So, of course, you or I personally can form no idea what the sensation may be like. But in this particular case, tradition saith Sir Norman Kingsley's state of mind was decidedly depressed. As the door shut violently, he leaned against it and listened to his jailers place the great bars into their sockets, and felt he was shut in in the dreariest, darkest, dismalest, disagreeablest place that it had ever been his misfortune to enter. He thought of Leolene, and reflected that in all probability she was sleeping the sleep of the just, perhaps dreaming of him, and little knowing that his head was to be cut off in half an hour. In course of time morning would come. It was not likely the ordinary course of nature would be cut off because he was, and Leolene would get up and dress herself, and looking a thousand times prettier than ever stand at the window and wait for him. Ah! She might wait. Much good would it do her. About that time he would probably be where? It was a rather uncomfortable question, but easily answered, and depressed him to a very desponding degree indeed. He thought of Ormiston and La Masque. No doubt they were billing and cooing in most approved fashion just then, and never thinking of him, though, but for La Masque and his own folly he might have been half-married by this time. He thought of Count Letrage and Master Hubert, and became firmly convinced if one did not find Leolene the other would, and each being equally bad, it was about a toss-up in agony which got her. He thought of Queen Miranda and of the Addage, put no trust in princes, and sighed deeply as he reflected what a bad sign of human nature it was, more particularly such handsome human nature that she could, figuratively speaking, pat him on the back one moment and kick him to the scaffold the next. He thought, dejectedly, what a fool he was ever to have come back, or even having come back not to have taken greater pains to stay up aloft instead of pitching abruptly head foremost into such a select company without an invitation. He thought, too, what a cold, damp, unwholesome chamber they had lodged him in, and how apt he would be to have a bad attack of ague and miasmatic fever, if they would only let him live long enough to enjoy those blessings. And this having brought him to the end of his melancholy meditation, he began to reflect how he could best amuse himself in the interim before quitting this veil of tears. The candle was still blinking feebly on the floor, shedding tears of wax in its feeble prostration, and it suddenly reminded him of the dwarves' advice to examine his dark bower of repose. So he picked it up and snuffed it with his fingers and held it aloof, much as Robertson Crusoe held the brand in the dark cavern with the dead goat. In the velvet pole of blackness before alluded to, its small, wan-ray pierced but a few inches and only made the darkness visible. But Sir Norman groped his way to the wall, which he found to be all over green and noisome slime, and broken out into a cold, clammy perspiration as though it were at its last gasp. By the aid of his friendly light, for which he was really much obliged, a fat witch had his little friend known he would not have left it, he managed to make the circuit of his prison, which he found rather spacious and by no means uninhabited. For the walls and floor were covered with fat black beetles, whole families of which, interesting specimens of the insect world he crunched remorselessly underfoot, and massacred at every step, and great depraved-looking rats, with flashing eyes and sinister teeth, who made frantic dives and rushes at him, and bit at his jackboots with fierce fury. These small quadrupeds reminded him forcibly of the dwarf, especially in the region of the eyes and the general expression of countenance, and he began to reflect that if the dwarf's soul, supposing him to possess such an article as that which seemed to be open to debate, passed after death into the body of any other animal, it would certainly be into that of a rat. He had just come to this conclusion and was applying the flame of the candle to the nose of an inquisitive beetle when it struck him he heard voices in altercation outside his door. One clear ringing and imperious, yet with all feminine, was certainly not heard for the first time, and the subdued and respectful voices that answered were those of his guards. After a moment he heard the sound of the withdrawing bolts, and his heart beat fast. Surely his half-hour had not already expired, and if it had, would she be the person to conduct him to death? The door opened. A puff of wind extinguished his candle, but not until he had caught the glimmer of jewels, the shining of gold, and the flutter of long black hair, and then someone came in. The door was closed, the bolt shot back, and he was alone with Miranda, the Queen. There was no trouble about recognizing her, for she carried in her hand a small lamp, which she held up between them, that its rays might fall directly on both faces. Each was rather white, perhaps, and one heart was going faster than it had ever gone before, and that one was decidedly not the Queen's. She was dressed exactly as he had seen her, in purple and ermine, in jewels and gold, and strangely out of place she looked there, in her splendid dress and splendid beauty, among the black beetles and rats. Her face might have been a dead blank wall, or cut out of cold white stone for all it expressed, and as she lightly held up her rich robes in one hand, and in the other bore the light, the dark, shining eyes were fixed on his face, and were as barren of interest, eagerness, compassion, tenderness, or any other feeling, as the shining black glass ones of a wax doll. So they stood looking at each other for some ten seconds or so, and then, still looking full at him, Miranda spoke, and her voice was as clear and emotionless as her eyes. Well, Sir Norman Kingsley, I have come to see you before you die. Madam! he stammered, scarcely knowing what he said. You are kind. Am I? Perhaps you forget I signed your death warrant. Probably it would have been at the risk of your own life to refuse. Nothing of the kind. Not one of them would hurt a hair of my head if I refused to sign fifty death warrants. Now am I kind? Very likely it would have amounted to the same thing in the end. They would kill me whether you signed it or not. So what does it matter? You are mistaken. They would not kill you. At least not tonight, if I had not signed it. They would have let you live until their next meeting, which will be this night-week, and I would have incurred neither risk nor danger by refusing. Sir Norman glanced around the dungeon and shrugged his shoulders. I do not know that that prospect is much more inviting than the present one. Even death is preferable to a week's imprisonment in a place like this. But in the meantime, you might have escaped. Madam, look at this stone floor. That stone roof, these solid walls. That barred and massive door. Reflect that I am some forty feet underground, cannot perform impossibilities, and then ask yourself how? Sir Norman, have you ever heard of good fairies visiting brave knights and setting them free? Sir Norman smiled. I am afraid the good fairies and brave knights went the way of all flesh with King Arthur's round table, and even if they were in existence, none of them would take the trouble to limp down so far to save such an unlucky dog as I. Then you forgive me for what I have done? Your Majesty, I have nothing to forgive. Bah! she said scornfully. Do not mock me here. My Majesty, forsooth, you have about fifteen minutes to live in this world, Sir Norman, and if you have no better way of spending them, I will tell you a strange story, my own, and all about this place. Madam, there is nothing in the world I would like so much to hear. You shall hear it then, and it may be guile the last slow moments of time before you go out into eternity. She set her lamp down on the floor among the rats and beetles, and stood watching the small red flame a moment with a gloomy downcast eye. And Sir Norman, gazing on the beautiful darkening face, so like and yet so unlike Leolene, stood eagerly awaiting for what was to come. Meantime, the half-hour sped. In the crimson court the last trial was over, and Lady Castlemaid, a slender little beauty of eighteen, stood condemned to die. Now, for our other prisoner, exclaimed the dwarf with sprightly animation, and, while I go to the cell, you fair ladies and you, my lord, will seek the black chamber and await our coming there. Ordering one of his attendants to proceed him with a light, the dwarf skipped jauntedly away to gloat over his victim. He reached the dungeon door, which the guards, with some trepidation in their countenance, as they thought of what his highness would say when he found her majesty locked in with the prisoner, threw open. Come forth, Sir Norman Kingsley! shouted the door-freshing in. Come forth and meet your doom! But no Sir Norman Kingsley obeyed the pleasant invitation, and a dull echo from the darkness alone answered him. There was a lamp burning on the floor, and near it lay a form shining and specked with white in the gloom. He made for it between fear and fury, but there was something red and slippery on the ground, in which his foot slipped and he fell. Simultaneously, there was a wild cry from the two guards and the attendant that was echoed by a perfect screech of rage from the dwarf. As on looking down, he beheld Queen Miranda lying on the floor in the pool of blood, and, apparently, quite dead, answered Norman Kingsley, gone. End of Chapter 13 Recording by Dora-Leen Kaplan