Knollys
never far away, a beggar maybe would be sitting out on the road and ask
an alms; and cry out 'God save your Grace'; but he would be a beggar who
was accustomed to wear silk next his skin except when he went a-begging.
Many young gentlemen there were, yes and old ones too, who would thank
God for a blow or a curse from some foul English trooper for his meat, if
only he might have a look from the Queen's eyes for his grace before
meat. Oh! they would plot too, and scheme and lie awake half the night
spinning their webs, not to catch her Grace indeed, but to get her away
from that old Spider Scrope; and many's the word and the scrap of paper
that would go in to her Grace, right under the very noses of my Lord
Scrope and Sir Francis themselves, as they sat at their chess in the
Queen's chamber. It's a long game of chess that the two Queens are
playing; but thank our Lady and the Saints it's not mate yet--not mate
yet; and the White Queen will win, please God, before the board's
over-turned."

And he told them, too, of the failure of the Northern Rebellion, and the
wretchedness of the fugitives.

"They rode over the moors to Liddisdale," he said, "ladies and all, in
bitter weather, wind and snow, day after day, with stories of Clinton's
troopers all about them, and scarcely time for bite or sup or sleep. My
lady Northumberland was so overcome with weariness and sickness that she
could ride no more at last, and had to be left at John-of-the-Side's
house, where she had a little chamber where the snow came in at one
corner, and the rats ran over my lady's face as she lay. My Lords
Northumberland and Westmoreland were in worse case, and spent their
Christmas with no roof over them but what they could find out in the
braes and woods about Harlaw, and no clothes but the foul rags that some
beggar had thrown away, and no food but a bird or a rabbit that they
could pick up here and there, or what their friends could get to them now
and again privately. And then my Lord Northumberland's little daughters
whom he was forced to leave behind at Topcliff--a sweet Christmas they
had! Their money and food was soon spent; they could have scarcely a fire
in that bitter hard season; and God who feeds the ravens alone knows how
they were sustained; and for entertainment to make the time pass merrily,
all they had was to see the hanging of their own servants in scores about
the house, who had served them and their father well; and all t