The cry of terror that the dragon’s words awoke, died into silence as the Lady Elizabeth rose to her feet, flushed with anger.
“Is this a fable or the posy of a ring, Sir Dragon?” she said, sharply. “Do you come to try or tempt me, or is this perchance but some part of my Lord of Misrule’s Yule-tide mumming? ‘Sblood, sir; only cravens sneak behind masks to strike and threaten. Have off your disguise, if you be a true man; or, by my word as Princess of England, he shall bitterly rue the day who dares to befool the daughter of Henry Tudor!”
“As you will, then, my lady,” said the dragon. “Do you doubt me now?” and, tearing off his pasteboard wrapping, he stood disclosed before them all as the grim Sir Robert Trywhitt, chief examiner of the Lord Protector’s council. “Move not at your peril,” he said, as a stir in the throng seemed to indicate the presence of some brave spirits who would have shielded their young princess. “Master Feodary, bid your varlets stand to their arms.”
And at a word from Master Avery Mitchell, late Lord of Misrule, there flashed from beneath the cloaks of certain tall figures on the circle’s edge the halberds of the guard. The surprise was complete. The Lady Elizabeth was a prisoner in her own manor-house, and the Yule-tide revels had reached a sudden and sorry ending.
And yet, once again, under this false accusation, did the hot spirit of the Tudors flame in the face and speech of the Princess Elizabeth.
“Sir Robert Trywhitt,” cried the brave young girl, “these be but lying rumors that do go against my honor and my fealty. God knoweth they be shameful slanders, sir; for the which, besides the desire I have to see the King’s Majesty, I pray you let me also be brought straight before the court that I may disprove these perjured tongues.”
But her appeal was not granted. For months she was kept close prisoner at Hatfield House, subject daily to most rigid cross-examination by Sir Robert Trywhitt for the purpose of implicating her if possible in the Lord Admiral’s plot. But all in vain; and at last even Sir Robert gave up the attempt, and wrote to the council that “the Lady Elizabeth hath a good wit, and nothing is gotten of her but by great policy.”
Lord Seymour of Sudleye, was beheaded for treason on Tower Hill, and others, implicated in his plots, were variously punished; but even “great policy” cannot squeeze a lie out of the truth, and Elizabeth was finally declared free of the stain of treason.