Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER IX.

  Welcome, he said: Oh, long expected, to my dear embrace!--Dryden.

  "We must not think ourselves safe," said Longpole, when they had gotabout two miles from the park, "till we have put five estates betweenus and that double cunning fox, Sir Payan Wileton; for by break of dayhis horsemen will be out in every direction, and he will not mindbreaking a little law to have us."

  "Which way are we going now?" demanded the knight; "I should judgetowards Canterbury."

  "A little to the left we bear now," replied Longpole; "and yet theleft is become the right, for by going left we get right off his land,my lord."

  "Call me not my lord, Heartley," said Darnley. "Did I appear beforethe king as Lord Darnley his grace might be offended, and especiallythe proud Wolsey; as, after many entreaties, made by the best in theland, the prelate refused to see either my father or myself, that wemight plead our own cause; therefore, for the present, I am but SirOsborne Maurice. Thou hast too much wit I know to give me my lord atevery instant, like yon foolish clothier."

  "Oh, no! not I," replied Longpole; "I will Sir Osborne you, sir,mightily. But speaking of the clothier, your worship, how wonderfullythe fellow used his legs! It seemed as if every step cried out_ell-wide_; and when he stumbled 'twas but _three quarters_. I hope heescaped, if 'twere but to glorify his running."

  "Even if they took him," said the knight, "Sir Payan would not keephim after he found I was gone."

  "If 'twere not for avarice," said Longpole; "the fellow had all hisbetter angels in his bags, and Sir Payan has store of avarice. I'veseen him wrangle with a beggar for the change of a halfpenny, when thedevil tempted him to commit a charity. And yet avarice, looked uponsingly, is not a bad vice for a man to have either. It's a warm, acomfortable solid sin; and if most men will damn their own souls toget money, he can't be much worse off who damns his to keep it. Oh, Ilike avarice! Give me avarice for my sin. But I tire your worship."

  "No, no, faith!" replied the knight. "Thy cheerfulness, together withthe freedom of my limbs, give me new spirit, Heartley."

  "Oh! good your worship," cried Longpole, "call me something else thanHeartley. Since the fit is on us for casting our old names, I'll beafter the fashion too, and have a new one."

  "Well, then, I will call thee Longpole," said the knight, "which was aname we gave thee this morning, when thou wert watching us on thebank."

  "Speak not of it, Sir Osborne," replied he; "that was a bad trick, theworst I ever was in. But call me Longpole, if your worship chooses.When I was with the army they called me Dick Fletcher,[3] because Imade the arrows; and now I'll be Longpole, till such time as yourhonour Is established in all your rights again; and then I'll be merryMaster Heartley, my lord's man."

  "I fear me, Dick, that thou wilt have but little beside thy merrimentfor thy wages," said the knight, "at least for a while; for yon sameSir Payan has my bags too in safe custody, and also some good lettersfor his Grace of Buckingham. Yet I hope to receive in London theransom of a knight and two squires, whom I made prisoners at Bouvines.Till then we must content ourselves on soldiers' fare, and strive notto grow sad because our purses are empty."

  "Oh! your worship, my merriment never leaves me," said Longpole. "Theysay that I laughed when first I came into the world; and, with God'swill, I will laugh when I go out of it. When good Dr. Wilbraham, yourhonour's tutor, used to teach me Latin, you were but a little thingthen, some four years old; but, however, I was a great boy of twelve,and he would kindly have taught me, and made a clerk of me; but Ilaughed so at the gods and goddesses, that he never could get on. Thegreat old fools of antiquity, as I used to call them; and then hewould cane me, and laugh too, till he could not cane me for laughing.I was a wicked wag in those days; but since then I have grown to laughat folks as much as with them. But I think you said, Sir Osborne, thatyou had letters for the Duke of Buckingham: if we walk on at thispace, we shall soon be upon his land."

  "What! has he estates in this county?" asked the knight; "my letterswere addressed to him at Thornbury, in Gloucestershire."

  "Oh! but he has many a broad acre too in Kent," answered Longpole;"and a fine house, windowed throughout with glass, and four chimneysat each end; not a room but has its fire. They say that he is thereeven now. And much loved is he of the commons, being no way proud, assome of our lords are, with their upturned noses, as if they scornedto wind their mother earth."

  "Were I but sure that his grace were there," said the knight, "I woulde'en venture without the letters; for much has he been a friend to myfather, and he is also renowned for his courtesy."

  "Surely, your worship," answered Longpole, "if his grace have anygrace, he must be gracious; and yet I have heard that Sir Payan is theduke's good friend, and it might be dangerous to trust yourself."

  "I do not fear," said the knight. "The noble duke would never deliverme into the hands of my enemy; and although, perhaps, Sir Payan mayplay the sycophant, and cringe to serve his own base purposes with hisgrace, I cannot believe that the duke would show him any fartherfavour than such as we yield to a hound that serves us. However, wemust find some place to couch us for the night, and to-morrow morningI will determine."

  "Still, we must on a little farther to-night," said Longpole. "ThatSir Payan has the nose of a bloodhound, and I should fear to rest yetfor a couple of hours. But the country I know well, every path andfield, so that I will not lead your worship wrong."

  For nearly ten miles more, lighted by neither moon nor stars, did thetwo travellers proceed, through fields, over gates, and in the midstof woods, through which Longpole conducted with such unerringsagacity, that the young knight could not help a suspicion crossinghis mind that his guide must have made himself acquainted with thepaths by some slight practice in deer-stalking, or other gentleemployments of a similar nature. At length, however, they arrived inthe bottom of a little valley, where a clear quick stream was dashingalong, catching and reflecting all the light that remained in the air.On the edge of the hill hung a portion of old forest ground, in theskirts of which was a group of haystacks; and hither Longpole led hismaster, seeming quite familiar with all the localities round about."Here, sir, leap this little ditch and mound. Wait! there is a younghedge: now, between these two hay-stacks is a bed for a prince. Outupon the grumblers who are always finding fault with Fortune! The oldlady, with her purblind eyes, gives, it is true, to one man a wisp ofstraw, and to another a cap and plume; but if he with the wisp wearsit as gaily as the other does his bonnet, why fortune's folly ismended by content. I killed a fat buck in that wood not a monthsince," continued Longpole; "but, good your worship, tell not hisGrace of Buckingham thereof."

  By such conversation Longpole strove to cheer the spirits of his younglord, upon whose mind all the wayward circumstances of his fatepressed with no easy weight. Laying himself down, however, between thetwo haystacks, while Heartley found himself a similar bed hard by, theyoung adventurer contrived soon to forget his sorrows in the arms ofsleep; and as he lay there, very inconsiderately began dreaming ofLady Constance de Grey. Sir Payan Wileton also soon took his place onthe imaginary scene; and in all the wild romance of a sleeping vision,they both contrived to teaze poor Sir Osborne desperately. At length,however, as if imagination had been having her revel after judgmenthad fallen asleep, and had then become drowsy herself, the formsmelted gradually away, and forgetfulness took possession of the whole.

  It was bright daylight when the knight awoke, and all the world wasgay with sunshine, and resonant with the universe's matin song.Longpole, however, was still fast asleep, and snoring as if inobstinate mockery of the birds that sat and sang above his head. Yeteven in sleep there was a merry smile upon the honest Englishman'sface, and the knight could hardly find the heart to wake him from thequiet blessing he was enjoying to the cares, the fears, and theanxieties of active existence. "Wake, Richard!" said he, at length,"wake; the sun has risen this hour."

  Up started Longpole. "So he has!" cried he; "we
ll, 'tis a shame, Iown, that that same old fellow the sun, who could run alone before Iwas born, and who has neither sat down nor stood still one hour since,should still be up before me in the morning. But your worship and Idid not go to bed last night so early as he did."

  "Ay!" replied the knight; "but he will still run on, as bright, asvigorous, and as gay as ever, long after our short race is done."

  "More fool he then!" said Longpole; "he'll be lag last. But how haveyou determined, sir, about visiting the noble duke?"

  "I will go, certainly," replied the knight; "but, good Longpole, tellme, is it far from the manor, for all my food yesterday wasimprisonment and foul words."

  "'Ods life! your worship must not complain of hunger, then, for suchdiet soon gives a man a surfeit. But, in troth, 'tis more than onegood mile. However, surely we can get a nuncheon of bread at somecottage as we go; so shall your worship arrive just in time for hisgrace's dinner, and I come in for my share of good things in thesecond or third hall, as it pleases master yeoman-usher. So let us on,sir, i' God's name."

  Climbing the hill, they now cut across an angle of the forest, andsoon came to a wide open down, whereon a shepherd was feeding a fineflock of sheep, singing lightly as he went along.

  SHEPHERD'S SONG.

  "The silly beast, the silly beast, That crops the grassy plain, Enjoys more than the monarch's feast, And never tastes his pain. Sing oh! sing oh! for high degree, I'd be a sheep, and browse the lee.

  "The 'broidered robe with jewels drest, The silks and velvets rare, What are they to the woolly vest That shuts out cold and care? Sing oh! sing oh! for high degree, A woolly coat's the coat for me.

  "The king he feeds on dainty meat, Then goes to bed and weeps, The sheep he crops the wild thyme sweet, And lays him down and sleeps. Sing oh! sing oh! for high degree, A careless life's the life for me."

  "This shepherd will have his hard-pressed curds and his brown bread,"said Longpole; "and if your worship's hunger be like mine, no waydainty, we can manage to break our fast with him, though it be not onmanchets and stewed eels."

  The knight was very willing to try the shepherd's fare; and bendingtheir course towards him, they came up just as he was placing himselfunder an old oak, leaving his sheep to the care of his dogs, and foundhim well disposed to supply their necessities. His pressed curds, hisraveled bread, and his leathern bottle, full of thin beer, werecheerfully produced; and when the knight, drawing from his pocket oneof the few pieces that had luckily not been placed in his bags,offered to pay for their refreshment, the honest shepherd wouldreceive no payment; his good lord, he said, the Duke of Buckingham,let none of his people want for anything in their degree, from hischancellor to his shepherd.

  "Content is as good as a king," said Heartley, as they proceeded ontheir way. "But, there! does not your worship catch a glance of thehouse where those two hills sweep across one another, with a smallroad winding in between them? just as if under yon large mass ofchalky stone, that seems detached and hanging over the path, with abright gleam of sunshine seen upon the wood beyond? Do you not see thechimneys, sir?"

  "I do, I do," answered Sir Osborne. "But, come, let us on, it cannotbe far."

  "Not above half-a-mile," answered Longpole; "but we must go round tothe other side, for on this lie the gardens, which, as I have heard,are marvellous rich and curious. There may be seen all kinds offoreign fruit, corn trees, capers, lemons, and oranges. And they saythat by a strange way they call grafting, making, as it were, a foolof Dame Nature, they give her a party-coloured coat, causing one treeto bring forth many kinds of fruit, and flowers of sundry colours."

  "I have seen the same in Holland," replied the knight, "where the artof man seems boldly, as it were, to take the pencil from nature'shand, and paint the flowers with what hues he will."

  Walking rapidly on, they soon crossed the fields that separated themfrom the park, and skirting round the grounds reached the high road.This ran along for about a mile under the thick massy wall, which,supported by immense buttresses, and partially overgrown with ivy,enclosed the domain on all sides. Every here and there some of the oldEnglish oaks, the true aboriginal giants of our isle, waved their widebare arms over the boundary; while still between, the eye rested onthe various hues of tender green which the earlier trees just began toput forth, mingled with the dark shades of the pine and the yew. Thethick wall continued uninterrupted till towards the middle, where,turning abruptly round to the right, it was seen flanking on bothhands the wide road that led up to a pair of massy iron gates beforethe house. On each side of these gates appeared a square tower ofbrickwork, affording sufficient lodging for the porter and his men;and round about the doors of which was a crowd of paupers alreadycollected, waiting for the daily dole which they received from thetable of the duke.

  Through these Sir Osborne took his way, followed by Longpole; yet notwithout a sort of murmur amongst the beggar train, who, thinkingeverything that remained of the dinners in the various halls their ownby right, grumbled at each person who went in, as if they therebyreceived an injury.

  The gate being open, the knight entered, and looked round for some oneto answer his inquiries. The porter instantly stepped forth from hishouse; and although the stranger's dress had lost the saucy freshnessof its first gloss, he doffed his cap with as much respect as if hehad been robed in ermines; and thus it may be invariably observed,that where the noble and the great are affable and easy of access,their dependants are, in their station, civil and courteous; andwhere, on the contrary, the lord affects those airs of misproudhaughtiness which offer but a poor comment on his mind's construction,his servants never fail, by their insolent rudeness, to afford a finecaricature of their master's pride.

  "Sir," said the porter, doffing his cap with a low bow, imagining thatthe knight came to dine at the table in the second hall, to which allstrangers of respectable appearance were admitted; "'tis not yeteleven o'clock, and the dinner is never served till noon."

  "That will be more to my purpose," replied the knight, "as I wish tohave an audience of his grace, if he be now in Kent."

  "His grace walks in the flower-garden," replied the porter, "and Iknow not whether he may be spoken with; but follow me, sir, and I willbring you to his chamberlain."

  So saying, he led the way across the court, and ascending the steps ofthe terrace on which the mansion was raised, he pushed open thehall-door, and conducted the knight through a merry group of servants,engaged in various sports, into a second hall, where were a number ofecclesiastics and gentlemen, of that intermediate grade which raisedthem above the domestics without giving them a title to associate withthe persons admitted to the duke's own table.

  Here the porter looked round, as if searching for some one amongst thevarious groups that tenanted the apartment; and then begging theknight to wait a moment, he left him.

  Finding that all eyes were fixed upon him with that sort of glance ofcool, impertinent inquiry, which few persons scruple to exercise upona stranger who comes new into a place where they themselves are athome, Sir Osborne went up to some fine suits of armour which wereranged in order at the end of the hall. Amongst the rest was one ofthose beautiful fluted suits of Milan steel, which are now so rarelymet with. It was arranged as for use, and the arm extended, with thegauntlet resting on the pommel of an immense double-handed sword,which was supported by a small rail of iron, placed there as a guard.

  The knight considered it all with the eyes of a connoisseur, andtaking the sword from underneath the gauntlet, drew it partly out ofthe sheath.

  "You are a bold gentleman!" said one of the starers, coming up to theknight. "Do you know that these suits are my lord duke's? What are yougoing to do with that sword?"

  "To slit the ears of any one who asks me impertinent questions,"answered the knight, turning suddenly round upon him.

  "Cast him out! cast him out!" cried a dozen voices. "Who is th
ebeggarly rascal with his gray doublet? Cast him out!"

  But the knight glanced round them with that sort of fierce, determinedlook, which tells that an adversary would have no easy task to masterthe heart that so lights up the eye; and though some still cried tocast him out, no one thought fit to approach too near.

  "Peace! peace!" cried an old ecclesiastic, who had been sitting at thefarther extreme of the hall, and who now advanced. "Peace! see ye notby his spurs the gentleman is a knight? My son," he continued,addressing Sir Osborne, "those arms are the noble Duke ofBuckingham's, and out of respect for our patron, those who areadmitted to this hall refrain from touching his ten suits. That whichseems to have excited your curiosity was the prize at a tournament,given by an old friend of his grace some fifteen years ago, and it isone of the most handsome in his possession."

  "I should not have touched those arms, my good father," answered theknight, "had I not thought that I recognised the suit; and was drawingthe blade to see if it was the same."

  "By what mark would you know it, young gentleman?" demanded thepriest.

  "If it be that I mean," replied Sir Osborne, "there is written on theblade--

  I will win my right. Or die in the fight."

  "True, true!" said the clergyman. "There is so; but you must be tooyoung to have been at that tourney."

  "No matter," said the knight; "but, if I mistake not, here is hisgrace's chamberlain."

  As he spoke, a gentleman, dressed in a black velvet suit, with a goldchain round his neck, followed the porter into the hall, and addressedhimself to the knight.

  "I have communicated your desire," said he, "to my lord duke, who hascommanded me to say, that if your business with his grace be such asmay pass through a third person, he prays you to inform him thereof byme; but if you must needs speak with him personally, he never denieshis presence to those who really require it."

  Though he spoke with all courtesy, there was something in the mannerof the chamberlain that Sir Osborne did not like; and he answered fullhaughtily--

  "Inform his grace that my business is for his private ear, and that amoment will show him whether it be such as he can hear with pleasure."

  "Then I have nought left, sir, but to lead you to his grace," repliedthe chamberlain; "though, I am sure, you know that it is not well totrouble great men with small matters."

  "Lead on, sir!" said the knight, observing the chamberlain's eyeglance somewhat critically over his apparel. "My doublet is not verynew, you would say; but if I judge it good enough for your lord, it istoo good for his servant's scorn."

  The chamberlain led on in silence through one of the side doors ofthe hall, and thence by a long passage to the other side of thedwelling, where, issuing out upon the terrace, they descended into aflower-garden, laid out much after the pattern of a Brussels carpet.Formed into large compartments, divided by broad paved walks, theearly flowers of the season were distributed in all manner ofarabesques, each bed containing those of one particular colour; sothat, viewed from above, the effect was not ugly though somewhatstiff, and gay without being elegant.

  As Darnley descended, he beheld at the farther end a tall, dignifiedman, of about the middle age, walking slowly up and down the longestwalk. He was dressed in one of the strait coats of the day, stiff withgold embroidery, the upper part of the sleeve puffed out with crimsonsilk, and held down with straps of cloth of gold. The rest of hisattire was of the same splendid nature; the high breeches of silkenserge, pinked with gold; the mirabaise, or small low-crowned bonnet,of rich velvet, with a thin feather leaning across, fastened by alarge ruby; the silken girdle, with its jewelled clasp: all werecorresponding; and though the dress might not be so elegant in itsforms as that which we are accustomed to call the Vandyk, yet it wasfar more splendid in its materials, and had perhaps more of majesty,though less of grace. Two servants walked about ten paces behind, theone carrying in his hand his lord's sword, the other bearing anorange, which contained in the centre a sponge filled with vinegar.

  The duke himself was busily engaged in reading as he walked, nowporing on the leaves of the book he held in his hand, now raising hiseyes and seeming to consider what he had just collected. As the youngknight approached, however, he paused, placed a mark between theleaves where he had left off, and advanced a step, with that affablesmile and winning courtesy for which he was so famous.

  "I give you good morrow, fair sir!" said he. "My chamberlain says thatyou would speak with me. Methinks my good fortune has made me see yourface before. Say, can Buckingham serve you?" And as he spoke heconsidered the young stranger attentively, as if he did reallyremember him.

  "Your grace is ever courteous," replied the knight; and then added,seeing that the chamberlain still staid--"but, in the first place, letme say that what I was unwilling to communicate to this your officer,I am equally unwilling to speak before him."

  "Leave us!" said the duke. "In truth, I know not why you stay. Now,fair sir, may I crave your name?"

  "'Tis now a poor one, my good lord," replied the knight. "OsborneDarnley."

  "Rich, rich, dear youth, in virtue and in merit!" cried the duke,taking him in his arms and embracing him warmly, which accolade didnot escape the reverted eyes of the chamberlain; "rich in honour andcourage, and every good quality. The Lord of Surrey, my goodson-in-law, to whom you are a dear companion in arms, wrote me fromIreland some two months past that I might expect you here; evolved tome the plans which you have formed to gain the favour of the king, andprepared me to aid you to the best of my poor power. Hold you the samepurpose of concealing your name which you proposed when you wrote fromFlanders to Lord Surrey, and which you observed when last in this ourhappy country?"

  "I do, my good lord," replied the knight, "on every account; but moreespecially as it is the wish and desire of him I am bound most tohonour and obey: my father."

  "My judgment goes with his and yours," said the duke, "more especiallyas for some cause that proud man Wolsey, when, not long since, Ipetitioned the king to see your noble father, stepped in and staid thewavering consent that hung upon his grace's lips. But think not, mydear youth, that I have halted in your cause! Far from it; I haveurged your rights with all the noblest and best of the land; whileyour own merits, and the high name you have acquired in serving withthe emperor, have fixed your interest on the sure basis of esteem; sothat, wherever you find a real English heart, and but whisper the nameof Darnley, there you shall have a friend; yet, indeed, I have much tocomplain of in my lord your father."

  "Indeed, indeed, your grace?" cried the knight, the quick bloodmounting into his cheek. "Some misconception must make you think so.My father, heaven knows! is full of gratitude and affection towardsyou."

  "Nay, protest not," replied Buckingham, with a smile. "I have thestrongest proof of his ingratitude and bad esteem; for what can be sogreat a proof of either as to refuse an offered kindness?"

  "Oh! I understand your grace," said Sir Osborne. "But though thenoble, the princely offers, of pecuniary assistance which your graceheld out to him were declined, my father's gratitude was not the less.For five long years I have not seen him, but in all his letters hespeaks of the noble Duke of Buckingham as one whose virtues haveshamed him from misanthropy."

  "Well, well!" answered the duke. "At least remember you were countedonce as my page, when you were a child no higher than my knee: so nowwith you I will command, whereas with your father I could but beg; andI will say, that if you use not my house, my servants, and my purse,you hold Buckingham at nought. But we must be more particular: comeinto my closet till dinner be served, and tell me all, for youngsoldiers are rarely rich, and I will not have my purpose balked."

  We shall not pursue the farther conversation of the duke of Buckinghamand the young knight: suffice that the frank generosity of his noblefriend easily drew from Sir Osborne all his history, even to the veryday. His plans, his wishes, and his hopes; the conduct of Sir PayanWileton, and his desperate designs; his own intention to seek thecourt, and
strive to win the favour of the king before he disclosedhimself; were all displayed before the duke, who did not fail toencourage him to persevere, both by words of hope and proffers ofassistance.

  "As to your enemy, Sir Payan Wileton," said the duke, "I know himwell: he is a desperate villain; and yet such men are useful in greatenterprises. You say you met that strange but wonderful man Sir Cesar.Did he not tell you anything concerning me? But no! he was wise. Hisgrace the king might die without issue male; and then----God knows!However, we will not think of that!" And with these dark hints of somemore remote and daring schemes, the Duke of Buckingham contentedhimself for the time, and returned to the more immediate affairs ofhim whose interest he now so warmly embraced. But in the midst oftheir conversation, the controller of the household entered to marshalthe way to the banquet hall.

  "What said you, my dear youth, was the name you had adopted?" demandedthe duke; "for I must gain you the acquaintance of my friends."

  "Ever since the sequestration of our estates," replied the knight,"and their transfer to Sir Payan Wileton, I have, when in England,borne the name of Osborne Maurice."

  "Osborne Maurice!" said the duke, with some emphasis, as if he foundsomething extraordinary in the name. "How came you to assume that?"

  "In truth, I know not," answered the knight; "'twas fixed on by myfather."

  "Yes, I now remember," said the duke, after musing for a while. "Hewas a dear friend of my good lord your father's: I mean the other SirOsborne Maurice, who supported Perkyn Warbeck. But 'twill do as wellas another; the name is forgotten now."