The Duke? Perhaps not. But there was the Queen herself, half sick for love! and women's follies have ere now upset the most deeply laid, most important plans.

"Ah, my friend!" sighed His Eminence with ill-concealed irritation, as the Marquis de Suarez came idly lounging beside him, "alas! and alack-a-day! when diplomacy hath to reckon with women. . . . Look at that picture!" he added, pointing with be-ringed, slender, tapering finger to the figures of Wess.e.x and Mary Tudor disappearing amid the bosquets of the park, "and think that the destinies of Europe depend upon how a woman of forty can succeed in chaining that b.u.t.terfly."

Don Miguel too had followed with frowning eyes the little comedy just enacted upon the terrace. His intellect, though perhaps not so keen as that of his chief, was nevertheless sufficiently on the alert to recognize that Mary Tudor had distinctly intended to administer a snub to the entire diplomatic corps, by her marked preference for Wess.e.x'

sole company.

"Chance certainly, seems against your schemes and mine, my lord Cardinal," he said; "for that b.u.t.terfly is heart-free and indolent, whilst the woman of forty is a queen."

"Indolent, yes," mused His Eminence, "but ambitious?"

"His friends will supply the ambition," rejoined Don Miguel; "and the Crown of England is a heavy prize."

The Cardinal did not speak for a moment. He seemed buried in thought.

"I was thinking of the beautiful Lady Ursula Glynde," he said meditatively after a while.

"Beautiful indeed. But His Grace is never allowed to see her."

"But when he does----"

"Oh! if I judge him rightly, when he does see her--she is pa.s.sing beautiful, remember--his roving fancy will no doubt be enchained for--shall we say--half an hour--perhaps half a day. . . . What then?"

"Half an hour!" mused the Cardinal. "Much may be done in half an hour, my lord Marquis."

"Bah!"

"In half an hour a woman, even if she be a queen, might become piqued and jealous, and the destinies of Europe will be shaped accordingly."

His keen grey eyes were searching the bosquets, trying to read what went on behind the dark yew hedges of the park.

"To think that the fate of Catholic Europe should depend upon the chance meeting of a young girl and a Court gallant," sighed Don Miguel impatiently.

"The fate of empires has hung on more slender threads than these ere now, my son," rejoined His Eminence quietly; "diplomacy is the art of seeming to ignore the great occasions whilst seizing the small opportunity."

He said nothing more, for at that same moment there came to his ears, gently echoing across the terrace, the sound of a half-gay, half-melancholy ditty. A pure, girlish voice was singing somewhere within the Palace, like a young caged bird behind the bars, at sight of the brilliant sunshine above.

Don Miguel gave a short sarcastic laugh.

"The Lady Ursula's voice," he said.

Then he pointed to the more distant portion of the garden, where Wess.e.x and Mary were once more seen strolling slowly back towards the terrace.

A look of expectancy, of shrewd and sudden intuition crept into the Cardinal's handsome face. The eyes lighted up as if with a quick, bright, inward vision, whilst the thin lips seemed to close with a snap, as if bent on guarding the innermost workings of the mind.

He took his breviary from his pocket and began walking along the flagstones of the terrace in the direction whence the song had come. His head was bent; apparently he was deeply absorbed in the Latin text.

Don Miguel had not followed him. He knew that his chief wished to be alone. He watched the crimson robes slowly fading away into the distance. The Cardinal presently disappeared round the angle formed by Wolsey's rooms. Beyond these were the fine chambers built by Henry VIII.

The sweet song still came from there, wafted lightly on the summer breeze.

CHAPTER XIV

THE DESTINIES OF EUROPE

Five minutes later His Eminence's brilliantly clad figure once more reappeared round the angle of the Palace. The breviary was no longer in his hands.

A few moments later he had joined Don Miguel, and together the two men watched the Queen and Wess.e.x, as they drew nearer to the terrace steps.

A smile was on His Eminence's lips, suave, slightly sarcastic, and at the same time triumphant, yet at this very instant when he seemed so pleased with himself, or with events in general, Mary Tudor was looking with loving anxiety in His Grace of Wess.e.x' eyes.

"I seem unable to cheer you to-day, my dear lord," she said. "What has become of your usual gay spirits?"

"Gone eavesdropping on my lord Cardinal," replied the Duke with a smile, as he spied the crimson robes on the top of the steps, "to find out how soon a King of Spain will rule over England and capture the heart of our Queen."

Mary paused and suddenly laid an eager hand on his wrist.

"Methought you cared nothing for the affairs of state," she said with some sadness, "and still less as to who shall rule over the heart of your Queen."

"Shall I dismiss the Spanish amba.s.sador?" she added in an excited whisper, "and His Eminence?--and M. de Noailles? . . . all of them?

. . . I have not yet given my answer. Will you dictate it, my lord?"

He looked up and saw the Cardinal's piercing eyes fixed steadily upon him. For one moment he hesitated. His Eminence looked so sure of himself, so proud of his ascendency over this impulsive woman, that just for the s.p.a.ce of five seconds the thought crossed his mind that he would yield to the entreaties of his friends, and wrest the crown of England from the grasping hands of these foreigners, all eagerly waiting to s.n.a.t.c.h it for themselves.

As the Cardinal himself had said, but a short while ago, "the destinies of empires oft hang on more slender threads than these." No doubt none knew better than the shrewd Spaniard himself, how nigh he was at that moment to losing the great game which he played.

Who knows?--if at this instant the sudden commotion on the terrace had not stopped the words on Wess.e.x' lips, how different might have been the destinies of England! But just as His Grace would have spoken, the major-domo's voice rang out:--

"The envoy of His Holiness the Pope awaits Her Majesty in the audience chamber."

"The envoy of His Holiness," said His Eminence with his usual suavity, as he stepped forward to meet the Queen, "and I am to have the honour of introducing him to your Majesty."

The major-domo, who had announced the news, was standing at some little distance with the pages who had accompanied him. The rest of the Court had dispersed when Mary strolled off with the Duke; only two or three ladies, in immediate attendance on the Queen, were laughing and chattering close by.

The Palace itself seemed astir with new movement and life, horses were stamping in the flagged courts, men were heard running and shouting, whilst the rhythmic sound of a bra.s.s trumpet at intervals announced the important arrival.

But through all this noise and bustle, the sweet, sad ditty sung by a fresh young voice still seemed to fill the air.

Mary was visibly chafing under this sudden restraint put upon her by rigid ceremonial. His Holiness' envoy could not be kept waiting, though she, poor woman, was burning with desire to prolong the happy _tete-a-tete_ with the man she loved.

She felt His Eminence's eyes watching her every movement. She threw him a defiant look, then peremptorily ordered the major-domo and the pages to precede her.

His Grace of Wess.e.x, on the other hand, seemed obviously relieved. He had turned his head in the direction whence came that girlish song, and appeared to be listening intently.

"Will you accompany us, my lord?" said the Queen in a tone of obvious command. "I must not keep the envoy of His Holiness waiting, and have need of your presence."