That may or may not be true. But the statement
that when the President du Harlay sought to pursue
inquiries into certain allegations by a woman named
d’Escoman, which incriminated the Duc d’Epernon,
he received a royal order to desist, rests upon sound
authority.
* * * *
* *
That is the story of the assassination of Henry IV.
re-told in the light of certain records which appear
to me to have been insufficiently studied. They
should suggest a train of speculation leading to inferences
which, whilst obvious, I hesitate to define absolutely.
“If it be asked,” says Perefixe, “who
were the friends that suggested to Ravaillac so damnable
a design, history replies that it is ignorant and
that upon an action of Such consequences it is not
permissible to give suspicions and conjectures for
certain truths. The judges themselves who interrogated
him dared not open their mouths, and never mentioned
the matter but with gestures of horror and amazement.”
The Murder of Amy Robsart
There had been a banquet, followed by a masque, and
this again by a dance in which the young queen had
paired off with Lord Robert Dudley, who in repute
was the handsomest man in Europe, just as in fact
he was the vainest, shallowest, and most unscrupulous.
There had been homage and flattery lavishly expressed,
and there was a hint of masked hostility from certain
quarters to spice the adventure, and to thrill her
bold young spirit. Never yet in all the months
of her reign since her coronation in January of last
year had she felt so much a queen, and so conscious
of the power of her high estate; never so much a woman,
and so conscious of the weakness of her sex.
The interaction of those conflicting senses wrought
upon her like a heady wine. She leaned more heavily
upon the silken arm of her handsome Master of the Horse,
and careless in her intoxication of what might be thought
or said, she—who by the intimate favour
shown him had already loosed the tongue of Scandal
and set it chattering in every court in Europe—drew
him forth from that thronged and glittering chamber
of the Palace of Whitehall into the outer solitude
and friendly gloom.
And he, nothing loth to obey the suasion of that white
hand upon his arm, exultant, indeed, to parade before
them all the power he had with her, went willingly
enough. Let Norfolk and Sussex scowl, let Arundel
bite his lip until it bled, and sober Cecil stare
cold disapproval. They should mend their countenances
soon, and weigh their words or be for ever silenced,
when he was master in England. And that he would
soon be master he was assured to-night by every glance
of her blue eyes, by the pressure of that fair hand
upon his arm, by the languishing abandonment with which
that warm young body swayed towards him, as they passed
out from the blaze of lights and the strains of music
into the gloom and silence of the gallery leading
to the terrace.
