russet cloak for a kingdom; no, not I! They do say that his piebald horse was a good bay, until he waved a striped wand over him, at which the horse sneezed three times and eftsoons came out white with three bay spots upon him. ’Tis my belief that this same wizard is allied with Satan, and so think many honest folk. Avoid him, mistress, and you love your life!” [64] [65] CHAPTER VI THE WIZARD’S VISIT In their gloomy rooms Queen Catherine and her maids sat working when Mistress Betty entered, rosy from her ride and the excitement of her adventure, which promised now to be of some interest. The queen, glancing up at her entrance, caught the glow in the new-comer’s face and smiled more pleasantly than usual. In “How wonderfully freedom and exercise affect young blood!” she said; “the wench is blooming as a Christmas rose. Come hither, my girl, and tell us of your ride; perchance it may seem like the recital of a chapter of wild adventures to us. Youth and hope see all things in a golden light; what knight rode at your bridle rein? what dragon was slain at your approach? Such faces as yours open new channels of chivalry in the hearts of men. Saw you not some marvel that may serve to cheer us in our solitude?” “Nay, madam,” Betty replied, smiling, “I met with no such wonders; but I did see a wizard riding on a piebald horse.” [66]“A wizard on a piebald horse?” repeated Catherine; “’tis well, so you saw not Death riding on a white one, as they say my lord of Buckingham did once. How knew you the gentleman for a wizard? Did he carry the symbols of his trade displayed, or had he a terrible learned countenance that confounded all men at the view?” [66] “Your grace should see what a small, bandy-legged creature it is, much like a frog,” said Mistress Carew, “only that he wears russet instead of green, and has a smooth tongue, so that even now he wins the regard of Sir Edmund.” “What, is he here?” exclaimed the queen, in surprise; “I knew not that Bedingfield would admit any one without the warrant of my lord privy seal; surely, Cromwell hath not sent a sorcerer to conjure me,” she added with an ironical laugh. “Rode he a piebald horse?” asked Patience, the queen’s woman; “I think I cannot
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