by Howard Pyle
CHAPTER 30
Adjoining the ancient palace of Westminster, where King Henry IV wasthen holding his court, was a no less ancient stone building known asthe Painted Room. Upon the walls were depicted a series of battle scenesin long bands reaching around this room, one above another. Some ofthese pictures had been painted as far back as the days of Henry III,others had been added since his time. They chronicled the various warsof the King of England, and it was from them that the little hall tookits name of the Painted Room.
This ancient wing, or offshoot, of the main buildings was more retiredfrom the hurly-burly of outer life than other parts of the palace, andthither the sick King was very fond of retiring from the business ofState, which ever rested more and more heavily upon his shoulders,sometimes to squander in quietness a spare hour or two; sometimes toidle over a favorite book; sometimes to play a game of chess with afavorite courtier. The cold painted walls had been hung with tapestry,and its floor had been spread with arras carpet. These and the cushionedcouches and chairs that stood around gave its gloomy antiquity an air ofcomfort--an air even of luxury.
It was to this favorite retreat of the King's that Myles was broughtthat morning with his father to face the great Earl of Alban.
In the anteroom the little party of Princes and nobles who escortedthe father and son had held a brief consultation. Then the others hadentered, leaving Myles and his blind father in charge of Lord Lumley andtwo knights of the court, Sir Reginald Hallowell and Sir Piers Averell.
Myles, as he stood patiently waiting, with his father's arm resting inhis, could hear the muffled sound of voices from beyond the arras. Amongothers, he recognized the well-remembered tones of the King. He fanciedthat he heard his own name mentioned more than once, and then the soundof talking ceased. The next moment the arras was drawn aside, and theEarl entered the antechamber again.
"All is ready, cousin," said he to Lord Falworth, in a suppressed voice."Essex hath done as he promised, and Alban is within there now." Then,turning to Myles, speaking in the same low voice, and betraying moreagitation than Myles had thought it possible for him to show, "SirMyles," said he, "remember all that hath been told thee. Thou knowestwhat thou hast to say and do." Then, without further word, he took LordFalworth by the hand, and led the way into the room, Myles followingclose behind.
The King half sat, half inclined, upon a cushioned seat close to whichstood the two Princes. There were some dozen others present, mostlypriests and noblemen of high quality who clustered in a group at alittle distance. Myles knew most of them at a glance having seen themcome and go at Scotland Yard. But among them all, he singled out onlyone--the Earl of Alban. He had not seen that face since he was a littlechild eight years old, but now that he beheld it again, it fittedinstantly and vividly into the remembrance of the time of that terriblescene at Falworth Castle, when he had beheld the then Lord Brookhurststanding above the dead body of Sir John Dale, with the bloody maceclinched in his hand. There were the same heavy black brows, sinisterand gloomy, the same hooked nose, the same swarthy cheeks. He evenremembered the deep dent in the forehead, where the brows met inperpetual frown. So it was that upon that face his looks centred andrested.
The Earl of Alban had just been speaking to some Lord who stood besidehim, and a half-smile still hung about the corners of his lips. Atfirst, as he looked up at the entrance of the newcomers, there was noother expression; then suddenly came a flash of recognition, a look ofwide-eyed amazement; then the blood left the cheeks and the lips, andthe face grew very pale. No doubt he saw at a flash that some greatdanger overhung him in this sudden coming of his old enemy, for he wasas keen and as astute a politician as he was a famous warrior. At leasthe knew that the eyes of most of those present were fixed keenly andsearchingly upon him. After the first start of recognition, his lefthand, hanging at his side, gradually closed around the scabbard of hissword, clutching it in a vice-like grip.
Meantime the Earl of Mackworth had led the blind Lord to the King, whereboth kneeled.
"Why, how now, my Lord?" said the King. "Methought it was our youngPaladin whom we knighted at Devlen that was to be presented, and herethou bringest this old man. A blind man, ha! What is the meaning ofthis?"
"Majesty," said the Earl, "I have taken this chance to bring to thymerciful consideration one who hath most wofully and unjustly sufferedfrom thine anger. Yonder stands the young knight of whom we spake; thisis his father, Gilbert Reginald, whilom Lord Falworth, who craves mercyand justice at thy hands."
"Falworth," said the King, placing his hand to his head. "The name isnot strange to mine ears, but I cannot place it. My head hath troubledme sorely to-day, and I cannot remember."
At this point the Earl of Alban came quietly and deliberately forward."Sire," said he, "pardon my boldness in so venturing to address you, buthaply I may bring the name more clearly to your mind. He is, as my Lordof Mackworth said, the whilom Baron Falworth, the outlawed, attaintedtraitor; so declared for the harboring of Sir John Dale, who was one ofthose who sought your Majesty's life at Windsor eleven years ago.Sire, he is mine enemy as well, and is brought hither by my proclaimedenemies. Should aught occur to my harm, I rest my case in your gracioushands."
The dusty red flamed into the King's pale, sickly face in answer, and herose hastily from his seat.
"Aye," said he, "I remember me now--I remember me the man and the name!Who hath dared bring him here before us?" All the dull heaviness ofsickness was gone for the moment, and King Henry was the King Henry often years ago as he rolled his eyes balefully from one to another of thecourtiers who stood silently around.
The Earl of Mackworth shot a covert glance at the Bishop of Winchester,who came forward in answer.
"Your Majesty," said he, "here am I, your brother, who beseech you asyour brother not to judge over-hastily in this matter. It is truethat this man has been adjudged a traitor, but he has been so adjudgedwithout a hearing. I beseech thee to listen patiently to whatsoever hemay have to say."
The King fixed the Bishop with a look of the bitterest, deepest anger,holding his nether lip tightly under his teeth--a trick he had whenstrongly moved with anger--and the Bishop's eyes fell under the look.Meantime the Earl of Alban stood calm and silent. No doubt he saw thatthe King's anger was likely to befriend him more than any words that hehimself could say, and he perilled his case with no more speech whichcould only prove superfluous.
At last the King turned a face red and swollen with anger to the blindLord, who still kneeled before him.
"What hast thou to say?" he said, in a deep and sullen voice.
"Gracious and merciful Lord," said the blind nobleman, "I come to thee,the fountain-head of justice, craving justice. Sire, I do now and heredeny my treason, which denial I could not before make, being blind andhelpless, and mine enemies strong and malignant. But now, sire, Heavenhath sent me help, and therefore I do acclaim before thee that myaccuser, William Bushy Brookhurst, Earl of Alban, is a foul and anattainted liar in all that he hath accused me of. To uphold whichallegation, and to defend me, who am blinded by his unknightliness, I dooffer a champion to prove all that I say with his body in combat."
The Earl of Mackworth darted a quick look at Myles, who came forward themoment his father had ended, and kneeled beside him. The King offered nointerruption to his speech, but he bent a look heavy with anger upon theyoung man.
"My gracious Lord and King," said Myles, "I, the son of the accused, dooffer myself as his champion in this cause, beseeching thee of thy graceleave to prove the truth of the same, being a belted knight by thy graceand of thy creation and the peer of any who weareth spurs." Thereupon,rising, he drew his iron gauntlet from his girdle, and flung it clashingdown upon the floor, and with his heart swelling within him with angerand indignation and pity of his blind father, he cried, in a loudvoice, "I do accuse thee, William of Alban, that thou liest vilely asaforesaid, and here cast down my gage, daring thee to take it up."
The Earl of Alban made as though he would acc
ept the challenge, but theKing stopped him hastily.
"Stop!" he cried, harshly. "Touch not the gage! Let it lie--let it lie,I tell thee, my Lord! Now then," said he, turning to the others, "tellme what meaneth all this coil? Who brought this man hither?"
He looked from one to another of those who stood silently around, but noone answered.
"I see," said he, "ye all have had to do with it. It is as my Lord ofAlban sayeth; ye are his enemies, and ye are my enemies as well. In thisI do smell a vile plot. I cannot undo what I have done, and since I havemade this young man a knight with mine own hands, I cannot deny thathe is fit to challenge my Lord of Alban. Ne'theless, the High Court ofChivalry shall adjudge this case. Meantime," said he, turning to theEarl Marshal, who was present, "I give thee this attainted Lord incharge. Convey him presently to the Tower, and let him abide ourpleasure there. Also, thou mayst take up yon gage, and keep it till itis redeemed according to our pleasure."
He stood thoughtfully for a moment, and then raising his eyes, lookedfixedly at the Earl of Mackworth. "I know," he said, "that I be a rightsick man, and there be some who are already plotting to overthrow thosewho have held up my hand with their own strength for all these years."Then speaking more directly: "My Lord Earl of Mackworth, I see your handin this before all others. It was thou who so played upon me as to getme to knight this young man, and thus make him worthy to challenge myLord of Alban. It was thy doings that brought him here to-day, backedby mine own sons and my brother and by these noblemen." Then turningsuddenly to the Earl of Alban: "Come, my Lord," said he; "I am awearywith all this coil. Lend me thine arm to leave this place." So itwas that he left the room, leaning upon the Earl of Alban's arm, andfollowed by the two or three of the Alban faction who were present.
"Your Royal Highness," said the Earl Marshal, "I must e'en do the King'sbidding, and take this gentleman into arrest."
"Do thy duty," said the Prince. "We knew it must come to this. Meanwhilehe is to be a prisoner of honor, and see that he be well lodged andcared for. Thou wilt find my barge at the stairs to convey him down theriver, and I myself will come this afternoon to visit him."