The Midnight Queen Read online

  CHAPTER VIII. THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN.

  When Sir Norman Kingsley entered the ancient ruin, his head was full ofLeoline--when he knelt down to look through the aperture in the flaggedfloor, head and heart were full of her still. But the moment his eyesfell on the scene beneath, everything fled far from his thoughts,Leoline among the rest; and nothing remained but a profound andabsorbing feeling of intensest amaze.

  Right below him he beheld an immense room, of which the flag he hadraised seemed to form part of the ceiling, in a remote corner. Evidentlyit was one of a range of lower vaults, and as he was at least fourteenfeet above it, and his corner somewhat in shadow, there was littledanger of his being seen. So, leaning far down to look at his leisure,he took the goods the gods provided him, and stared to his heart'scontent.

  Sir Norman had seen some queer sights during the four-and-twenty yearshe had spent in this queer world, but never anything quite equal tothis. The apartment below, though so exceedingly large, was lighted withthe brilliance of noon-day; and every object it contained; from one endto the other, was distinctly revealed. The floor, from glimpses hehad of it in obscure corners, was of stone; but from end to end it wascovered with richest rugs and mats, and squares of velvet of as manycolors as Joseph's coat. The walls were hung with splendid tapestry,gorgeous in silk and coloring, representing the wars of Troy, theexploits of Coeur de Lion among the Saracens, the death of Hercules, allon one side; and on the other, a more modern representation, the Fieldof the Cloth of Gold. The illumination proceeded from a range of waxtapers in silver candelabra, that encircled the whole room. The air wasredolent of perfumes, and filled with strains of softest and sweetestmusic from unseen hands. At one extremity of the room was a huge doorof glass and gilding; and opposite it, at the other extremity, wasa glittering throne. It stood on a raised dais, covered with crimsonvelvet, reached by two or three steps carpeted with the same; the thronewas as magnificent as gold, and satin, and ornamentation could makeit. A great velvet canopy of the same deep, rich color, cut in antiquepoints, and heavily hung with gold fringe, was above the seat of honor.Beside it, to the right, but a little lower down, was a similar throne,somewhat less superb, and minus a canopy. From the door to the thronewas a long strip of crimson velvet, edged and embroidered with gold, andarranged in a sweeping semi-circle, on either side, were a row of greatcarved, gilded, and cushioned chairs, brilliant, too, with crimson andgold, and each for every-day Christians, a throne in itself. Between theblaze of illumination, the flashing of gilding and gold, the tropicalflush of crimson velvet, the rainbow dyes on floor and walls, theintoxicating gushes of perfume, and the delicious strains of unseenmusic, it is no wonder Sir Norman Kingsley's head was spinning like abewildered teetotum.

  Was he sane--was he sleeping? Had he drank too much wine at the GoldenCrown, and had it all gone to his head? Was it a scene of earnestenchantment, or were fairy-tales true? Like Abou Hasson when he awokein the palace of the facetious Caliph of Bagdad, he had no notion ofbelieving his own eyes and ears, and quietly concluded it was all anoptical illusion, as ghosts are said to be; but he quietly resolved tostay there, nevertheless, and see how the dazzling phantasmagoria wouldend. The music was certainly ravishing, and it seemed to him, as helistened with enchanted ears, that he never wanted to wake up from soheavenly a dream.

  One thing struck him as rather odd; strange and bewildered as everythingwas, it did not seem at all strange to him, on the contrary, a vagueidea was floating mistily through his mind that he had beheld preciselythe same thing somewhere before. Probably at some past period of hislife he had beheld a similar vision, or had seen a picture somewherelike it in a tale of magic, and satisfying himself with this conclusion,he began wondering if the genii of the place were going to make theirappearance at all, or if the knowledge that human eyes were upon themhad scared them back to Erebus.

  While still ruminating on this important question, a portion of thetapestry, almost beneath him, shriveled up and up, and out flocked aglittering throng, with a musical mingling of laughter and voices. Stillthey came, more and more, until the great room was almost filled, anda dazzling throng they were. Sir Norman had mingled in many a brilliantscene at Whitehall, where the gorgeous court of Charles shone in all itssplendor, with the "merry monarch" at their head, but all he had everwitnessed at the king's court fell far short of this pageant. Halfthe brilliant flock were ladies, superb in satins, silks, velvets andjewels. And such jewels! every gem that ever flashed back the sunlightsparkled and blazed in blending array on those beautiful bosoms andarms--diamonds, pearls, opals, emeralds, rubies, garnets, sapphires,amethysts--every jewel that ever shone. But neither dresses nor gemswere half so superb as the peerless forms they adorned; and such an armyof perfectly beautiful faces, from purest blonde to brightest brunette,had never met and mingled together before.

  Each lovely face was unmasked, but Sir Norman's dazzled eyes in vainsought among them for one he knew. All that "rosebud garden of girls"were perfect strangers to him, but not so the gallants, who flutteredamong them like moths around meteors. They, too, were in gorgeous array,in purple and fine linen, which being interpreted, signifieth in silkenhose of every color under the sun, spangled and embroidered slippersradiant with diamond buckles, doublets of as many different shades astheir tights, slashed with satin and embroidered with gold. Most of themwore huge powdered wigs, according to the hideous fashion then in vogue,and under those same ugly scalps, laughed many a handsome face SirNorman well knew. The majority of those richly-robed gallants werestrangers to him as well as the ladies, but whoever they were, whethermortal men or "spirits from the vasty deep," they were in the tallestsort of clover just then. Evidently they knew it, too, and seemed to beon the best of terms with themselves and all the world, and laughed,and flirted, and flattered, with as much perfection as so many ball-roomApollos of the present day.

  Still no one ascended the golden and crimson throne, though many of theladies and gentlemen fluttering about it were arrayed as royally as anycommon king or queen need wish to be. They promenaded up and down, armin arm; they seated themselves in the carved and gilded chairs; theygathered in little groups to talk and laugh, did everything, in short,but ascend the throne; and the solitary spectator up above began to growintensely curious to know who it was for. Their conversation he couldplainly hear, and to say that it amazed him, would be to use a feebleexpression, altogether inadequate to his feelings. Not that it was theremarks they made that gave his system each a shook, but the names bywhich they addressed each other. One answered to the aspiring cognomenof the Duke of Northumberland; another was the Earl of Leicester;another, the Duke of Devonshire; another, the Earl of Clarendon;another, the Duke of Buckingham; and so on, ad infinitum, dukes andearls alternately, like bricks and mortar in the wall of a house.There were other dignitaries besides, some that Sir Norman had a faintrecollection of hearing were dead for some years--Cardinal Wolsey,Sir Thomas More, the Earl of Bothwell, King Henry Darnley, Sir WalterRaleigh, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Southampton, the Duke of York,and no end of others with equally sonorous titles. As for mere lords andbaronets, and such small deer, there was nothing so plebeian present,and they were evidently looked upon by the distinguished assembly, likesmall deer in thunder, with pity and contempt. The ladies, too, were allduchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and looked fit for princesses,Sir Norman thought, though he heard none of them styled quite so high asthat. The tone of conversation was light and easy, but at the sametime extremely ceremonious and courtly, and all seemed to be enjoyingthemselves in the most delightful sort of a way, which people of,such distinguished rank, I am told, seldom do. All went merry as amarriage-bell, and sweetly over the gay jingle of voices rose the sweet,faint strains of the unseen music.

  Suddenly all was changed. The great door of glass and gilding oppositethe throne was flung wide, and a grand usher in a grand court liveryflourished a mighty grand wand, and shouted, in a stentorian voice,

  "Back: back, ye lieges, and make way
for Her Majesty, Queen Miranda!"

  Instantly the unseen band thundered forth the national anthem. Thesplendid throng fell back on either hand in profoundest silence andexpectation. The grand usher mysteriously disappeared, and in his placethere stalked forward a score of soldiers, with clanking swords andfierce moustaches, in the gorgeous uniform of the king's body-guard.These showy warriors arranged themselves silently on either side of thecrimson throne, and were followed by half a dozen dazzling personages,the foremost crowned with mitre, armed with crozier, and robed in theecclesiastical glory of an archbishop, but the face underneath, to thedeep surprise and scandal of Sir Norman, was that of the fastest youngroue of Charles court, after him came another pompous dignitary, in suchunheard of magnificence that the unseen looker-on set him down fora prime minister, or a lord high chancellor, at the very least. Thesomewhat gaudy-looking gentlemen who stepped after the pious prelate andpeer wore the stars and garters of foreign courts, and were evidentlyembassadors extraordinary to that of her midnight majesty. After themcame a snowy flock of fair young girls, angels all but the wings,slender as sylphs, and robed in purest white. Each bore on her arm abasket of flowers, roses and rosebuds of every tint, from snowy white todarkest crimson, and as they floated in they scattered them lightlyas they went. And then after all came another vision, "the last, thebrightest, the best--the Midnight Queen," herself. One other figurefollowed her, and as they entered, a shout arose from the wholeassemblage, "Long live Queen Miranda!" And bowing gracefully and easilyto the right and left, the queen with a queenly step, trod the longcrimson carpet and mounted the regal throne.

  From the first moment of his looking down, Sir Norman had been staringwith all the eyes in his head, undergoing one shock of surprise afteranother with the equanimity of a man quite new to it; but now a cryarose to his lips, and died there in voiceless consternation. For herecognized the queen--well he might!--he had seen her before, and herface was the face of Leoline!

  As she mounted the stairs, she stood there for a moment crowned andsceptred, before sitting down, and in that moment he recognized thewhole scene. That gorgeous room and its gorgeous inmates; that regalthrone and its regal owner, all became palpable as the sun at noonday;that slender, exquisite figure, robed in royal purple and ermine; theuncovered neck and arms, snowy and perfect, ablaze with jewels; thatlovely face, like snow, like marble, in its whiteness and calm, withthe great, dark, earnest eyes looking out, and the waving wealth of hairfalling around it. It was the very scene, and room, and vision, thatLa Masque had shown him in the caldron, and that face was the face ofLeoline, and the earl's page.

  Could he be dreaming? Was he sane or mad, or were the three really one?

  While he looked, the beautiful queen bowed low, and amid the profoundestand most respectful silence, took her seat. In her robes of purple,wearing the glittering crown, sceptre in hand, throned and canopied,royally beautiful she looked indeed, and a most vivid contrast to thegentleman near her, seated very much at his ease, on the lower throne.The contrast was not of dress--for his outward man was resplendent tolook at; but in figure and face, or grace and dignity, he was a verymean specimen of the lords of creation, indeed. In stature, he scarcelyreached to the queen's royal shoulder, but made up sideways what hewanted in length--being the breadth of two common men; his head was inproportion to his width, and was decorated with a wig of long, flowing,flaxen hair, that scarcely harmonized with a profusion of the articlewhiskers, in hue most unmitigated black; his eyes were small, keen,bright, and piercing, and glared on the assembled company as they haddone half an hour before on Sir Norman Kingsley, in the bar-room of theGolden Crown; for the royal little man was no other than Caliban, thedwarf. Behind the thrones the flock of floral angels grouped themselves;archbishop, prime minister, and embassadors, took their stand within thelines of the soldiery, and the music softly and impressively died swayin the distance; dead silence reigned.

  "My lord Duke," began the queen, in the very voice he had heard at theplague-pit, as she turned to the stylish individual next the archbishop,"come forward and read us the roll of mortality since our last meeting."

  His grace, the duke, instantly stepped forward, bowing so low thatnothing was seen of him for a brief space, but the small of his back,and when he reared himself up, after this convulsion of nature, SirNorman beheld a face not entirely new to him. At first, he could notimagine where he had seen it, but speedily she recollected it was theidentical face of the highwayman who had beaten an inglorious retreatfrom him and Count L'Estrange, that very night. This ducat robber drewforth a roll of parchment, and began reading, in lachrymose tones,a select litany of defunct gentlemen, with hifalutin titles who haddeparted this life during the present week. Most of them had gone withthe plague, but a few had died from natural causes, and among these werethe Earls of Craven and Ashley.

  "My lords Craven and Ashley dead!" exclaimed the queen, in tones of somesurprise, but very little anguish; "that is singular, for we saw themnot two hours ago, in excellent health and spirits."

  "True, poor majesty," said the duke, dolefully, "and it is not an hoursince they quitted this vale of tears. They and myself rode forthat nightfall, according to Custom, to lay your majesty's tax on alltravelers, and soon chanced to encounter one who gave vigorous battle;still, it would have done him little service, had not another personcome suddenly to his aid, and between them they clove the skulls ofAshley and Craven; and I," said the duke, modestly, "I left."

  "Were either of the travelers young, and tall, and of courtly bearing?"exclaimed the dwarf with sharp rudeness.

  "Both were, your highness," replied the duke, bowing to the smallspeaker, "and uncommonly handy with their weapons."

  "I saw one of them down at the Golden Crown, not long ago," said thedwarf; "a forward young popinjay, and mighty inquisitive about this,our royal palace. I promised him, if he came here, a warm reception--apromise I will have the greatest pleasure in fulfilling."

  "You may stand aside, my lord duke," said the queen, with a gracefulwave of her hand, "and if any new subjects have been added to our courtsince our last weekly meeting, let them come forward, and be sworn."

  A dozen or more courtiers immediately stepped forward, and kneelingbefore the queen, announced their name and rank, which were bothambitiously high. A few silvery-toned questions were put by that royallady and satisfactorily answered, and then the archbishop, armed witha huge tome, administered a severe and searching oath, which thecandidates took with a great deal of sang froid, and were thenpermitted to kiss the hand of the queen--a privilege worth any amount ofswearing--and retire.

  "Let any one who has any reports to make, make them immediately," againcommanded her majesty.

  A number of gentlemen of high rank, presented themselves at thissummons, and began relating, as a certain sect of Christians doin church, their experience! Many of these consisted, to the deepdisapproval of Sir Norman, of accounts of daring highway robberies, oneof them perpetrated on the king himself, which distinguished personagethe duplicate of Leoline styled "our brother Charles," and of thesums thereby attained. The treasurer of state was then ordered to showhimself, and give an account of the said moneys, which he promptly did;and after him came a number of petitioners, praying for one thing andanother, some of which the queen promised to grant, and some she didn't.These little affairs of state being over, Miranda turned to the littlegentleman beside her, with the observation,

  "I believe, your highness, it is on this night the Earl of Gloucester isto be tried on a charge of high treason, is it not?"

  His highness growled a respectful assent.

  "Then let him be brought before us," said the queen. "Go, guards, andfetch him."

  Two of the soldiers bowed low, and backed from the royal presence, amiddead and ominous silence. At this interesting stage of the proceedings,as Sir Norman was leaning forward, breathless and excited, a footstepsounded on the flagged floor beside him, and some one suddenly graspedhis shoulder with no gentle hand.
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