released.
"A mistake, Your Majesty," Carr objected. "Foxcroft must be taught a lesson. We'll introduce him to the rack."
The rack was an ancient device which the king had improved since the time when he ruled the Scots and
wished to rid the land of witches. Those he condemned as witches were fastened to the contraption. Wheels were turned, and as they turned, legs and arms and joints were slowly stretched out of shape, inch by inch.
"Show it to him, at least," Carr said. "And introduce him to the leg iron."
This was a clamp, an invention of the king, which fit the leg from ankle to knee and was screwed tight gradually, snapping the bones.
"Foxcroft's an arrogant fellow," Carr said.
"Arrogant, like all the young," the king said.
"Arrogant now, a conspirator later," Carr said. "Nits grow up to be lice."
I tried to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. To no avail. As it echoed in the meadow, Carr gave me a curious look.
"Why does the fate of this arrogant youth concern you so much that you cry out like a wounded stag?"
I didn't try to answer.
"You gave us Foxcroft's story with great emotion. Tears were in your voice. You wrung your hands. A pretty act, my dear, a believable story as you imagined it, but one far from the truth. You should be an actress and play Shakespeare's sad Ophelia."
Still I did not answer. The king noted my silence. "No more of this," he said.
Robert Carr took heed. Smiling, he said, "I ask your pardon, miss. I did not know until this very moment that you were in love with Anthony Foxcroft.
Had I known, most surely I would not have expressed myself in this fulsome way. A thousand pardons!"
"Enough," the king said. "Send word to London by yonder squire that Foxcroft is to be released."
Robert Carr stiffened as the king fixed him with the look of one who was sent by God Himself to be His voice here on earth.
"Move upon this at once," the king said.
Carr hesitated. He had beautiful pink and white skin. Lustrous auburn locks framed a girlish face with a small red mouth that he set in an angry pout upon hearing the king's command.
A brief contest of glances followed. Then the king said, "Move or else you will be the worse for it."
Robert Carr bowed stiffly and went off at a leisurely pace to deliver the message which he did not like at all. When he returned, the king asked where the pretty buck and the seven fat doe were hiding. Before Carr could answer, a horn sounded and a herd of deer broke cover. The buck brushed past me, so close I could feel its hot breath.
King James aimed his gun and brought it down with a single shot.
"Bravo!" Carr shouted. "For three days you haven't used your gun, yet you shoot with your same deadly ease."
The king laughed. He was very proud of his skill as a huntsman, and I knew that he hunted whenever he had the chance. When he came to England to be
crowned, surrounded by thousands of admirers, he spied deer grazing in a pasture, leaped from his horse, and killed three. And as soon as he was crowned, he started off with his gun to visit estate after estate to kill more.
Retainers shouted "halloo," took out their sharp knives, and busied themselves with the carcass. I started off to find my brother, who had edged away, but the king grasped my arm and led me to where the sharp knives were flashing.
He scooped up some of the stag's blood, washed his hands in it, and spread some on his padded chest. Reaching out, he daubed my forehead with a bloody finger.
Shocked, forgetful that I stood in the presence of a king, I recoiled at his touch.
"It is a talisman," Carr explained.
"More, much more," the king said.
He climbed up and stood in the steaming carcass. In the mist that swirled about him he was truly a kingly figure, as if he had taken some strength from the blood of the slain deer.
"'Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble,'" he said, quoting from
Macbeth.
"'Twill burn the witch's brood," he added, quoting himself.
Scrambling
"A mistake, Your Majesty," Carr objected. "Foxcroft must be taught a lesson. We'll introduce him to the rack."
The rack was an ancient device which the king had improved since the time when he ruled the Scots and
wished to rid the land of witches. Those he condemned as witches were fastened to the contraption. Wheels were turned, and as they turned, legs and arms and joints were slowly stretched out of shape, inch by inch.
"Show it to him, at least," Carr said. "And introduce him to the leg iron."
This was a clamp, an invention of the king, which fit the leg from ankle to knee and was screwed tight gradually, snapping the bones.
"Foxcroft's an arrogant fellow," Carr said.
"Arrogant, like all the young," the king said.
"Arrogant now, a conspirator later," Carr said. "Nits grow up to be lice."
I tried to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. To no avail. As it echoed in the meadow, Carr gave me a curious look.
"Why does the fate of this arrogant youth concern you so much that you cry out like a wounded stag?"
I didn't try to answer.
"You gave us Foxcroft's story with great emotion. Tears were in your voice. You wrung your hands. A pretty act, my dear, a believable story as you imagined it, but one far from the truth. You should be an actress and play Shakespeare's sad Ophelia."
Still I did not answer. The king noted my silence. "No more of this," he said.
Robert Carr took heed. Smiling, he said, "I ask your pardon, miss. I did not know until this very moment that you were in love with Anthony Foxcroft.
Had I known, most surely I would not have expressed myself in this fulsome way. A thousand pardons!"
"Enough," the king said. "Send word to London by yonder squire that Foxcroft is to be released."
Robert Carr stiffened as the king fixed him with the look of one who was sent by God Himself to be His voice here on earth.
"Move upon this at once," the king said.
Carr hesitated. He had beautiful pink and white skin. Lustrous auburn locks framed a girlish face with a small red mouth that he set in an angry pout upon hearing the king's command.
A brief contest of glances followed. Then the king said, "Move or else you will be the worse for it."
Robert Carr bowed stiffly and went off at a leisurely pace to deliver the message which he did not like at all. When he returned, the king asked where the pretty buck and the seven fat doe were hiding. Before Carr could answer, a horn sounded and a herd of deer broke cover. The buck brushed past me, so close I could feel its hot breath.
King James aimed his gun and brought it down with a single shot.
"Bravo!" Carr shouted. "For three days you haven't used your gun, yet you shoot with your same deadly ease."
The king laughed. He was very proud of his skill as a huntsman, and I knew that he hunted whenever he had the chance. When he came to England to be
crowned, surrounded by thousands of admirers, he spied deer grazing in a pasture, leaped from his horse, and killed three. And as soon as he was crowned, he started off with his gun to visit estate after estate to kill more.
Retainers shouted "halloo," took out their sharp knives, and busied themselves with the carcass. I started off to find my brother, who had edged away, but the king grasped my arm and led me to where the sharp knives were flashing.
He scooped up some of the stag's blood, washed his hands in it, and spread some on his padded chest. Reaching out, he daubed my forehead with a bloody finger.
Shocked, forgetful that I stood in the presence of a king, I recoiled at his touch.
"It is a talisman," Carr explained.
"More, much more," the king said.
He climbed up and stood in the steaming carcass. In the mist that swirled about him he was truly a kingly figure, as if he had taken some strength from the blood of the slain deer.
"'Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble,'" he said, quoting from
Macbeth.
"'Twill burn the witch's brood," he added, quoting himself.
Scrambling
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