ttered--

'The King! Why the King did wed my cousin Kat!'

And again--

'I must be circumspect. Oh aye, I must be circumspect or all is lost.'
For that was one of the things which in Scotland he had again and again
impressed upon himself. 'But in Lincoln, in bygone times, of a summer's
night----'

'Poor Tom!' the Queen said; 'once this fellow did wooe me.'

Great tears gathered in Culpepper's eyes. They overflowed and rolled
down his cheeks.

'In the apple-orchard,' he said, 'to the grunting of hogs ... for the
hogs were below the orchard wall....'

The King was pleased to think that it had been in his power to raise
this lady an infinite distance above the wooing of this poor lout. It
gave him an interlude of comedy. But though he set his hands on his hips
and chuckled, he was a man too ready for action to leave much time for
enjoyment.

'Why weep?' he said to Culpepper. 'We have advanced thee to the Queen's
ante-chamber. Come up thither.'

He approached to Culpepper behind the mirror table and caught him by the
arm. The poor drunkard, his face pallid, shrank away from this great
bulk of shining scarlet. His eyes moved lamentably round the chamber and
rested first upon Katharine, then upon the King.

'Which of us was it you would ha' killed?' the King said, to show the
Queen how brave he was in thus handling a madman. And, being very
strong, he dragged the swaying drunkard, who held back and whose head
wagged on his shoulders, towards the door.

'Guard ho!' he called out, and before the door there stood three of his
own men in scarlet and with pikes.

'Ho, where is the Queen's door-ward?' he called with a great voice.
Before him, from the door side, there came the young Poins; his face was
like chalk; he had a bruise above his eyes; his knees trembled beneath
him.

'Ho thou!' the King said, 'who art thou that would hinder my messenger
from coming to the Queen?'

He stood back upon his feet; he clutched the drunkard in his great fist;
his eyes started dreadfully.

The young Poins' lips moved, but no sound came out.

'This was my messenger,' the King said, 'and you hindered him. Body of
God! Body of God!' and he made his voice to tremble as if with rage,
whilst he told this lie to save his wife's fair fame. 'Where have you
been? Where have you tarried? What treason is this? For either you knew
this was my messenger--as well I would have you know that he is--and it
was treason and death to stay him.