Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XVII.

  There grows In my most ill-composed affection A quenchless avarice, that were I king I should cut off the nobles for their lands.--Macbeth.

  Oh, the man in the moon! the man in the moon! What a prodigioussackful of good resolutions you must have, all broken through themiddle. First, there are all sorts of resolutions of amendment, ofevery kind and description, except the resolution of a carter to amendhis draught, or that of a gourmand whose appetite fails to drinkChateau Margaux instead of Lafitte. All, except these, my dear sir,you clutch by handfuls; and then you get all the resolutions of womenof five-and-thirty never to marry whenever the opportunity happens;the resolutions of many young heirs not to be taken in, and of youngcoquettes not to go too far; of old gentlemen to look young, and ofvulgar men to hold their tongues. Though I see, my dear sir, that yourbag be almost bursting, yet I must trouble you with one more.

  I had determined, as I hinted in a former chapter, never to quit myhero and go vagabondising about in my history from one part to theother, like a gipsy or a pedlar; but, on the contrary, to proceed in aquiet, respectable, straightforward manner, telling his story, andnobody else's story but his; but it is this individual resolution thatI am now under the necessity of foregoing, for it is absolutelynecessary, that I should return to what took place at the mansion ofthe Duke of Buckingham, in Kent, even if I should risk the breaking ofmy neck, as well as my resolution, in scampering back againafterwards.

  Early in the morning of the day after that on which Sir Osborne hadleft the manor-house to proceed to the Benedictine Abbey, nearCanterbury, Sir Payan Wileton, with a large suite, rode up to thegates, and demanded an audience of the duke, which was immediatelygranted. As the chamberlain marshalled him the way to the duke'scloset, the knight caught a glance of the old man, Sir Cesar, passingout, from which he argued favourably for his purposes; doubting notthat the discourse of the astrologer had raised the ambition andvanity of the duke, and fitted him to second the schemes with which heproposed to tempt him.

  When the knight entered, the princely Buckingham was seated, and withthat cold dignity which he knew well how to assume, he motioned hisvisiter to a chair, without, however, deigning to rise.

  "He thinks himself already king," thought Sir Payan. "Well, his pridemust be humoured. My lord duke," he said, after a few preliminarywords on both parts, "I come to tender your grace my best service, andto beg you to believe, that should ever the occasion offer, you shallfind me ready at your disposal, with heart and hand, fortune andfollowers."

  "And what is it that Sir Payan Wileton would claim as his reward forsuch zealous doings?" demanded the duke, eyeing him coolly. "SirPayan's wisdom is too well known to suppose that he would venture somuch without proportionate reward."

  "But your grace's favour," replied the knight, somewhat astonished atthe manner in which his offers were received.

  "Nay, nay, Sir Payan!" replied the duke; "speak plainly. What is ityou would have? Upon what rich lordship have you cast your eyes? Whosefair estate has excited your appetite? Is there any new Chilham Castleto be had?"

  "In truth, I know not well what your grace means," answered theknight, "though I can see that some villain behind my back has beenblackening my character in your fair opinion. I came here frankly totender you, of my own free will, services that you once hinted mightbe acceptable. Men who would climb high, my lord duke, must make theirfirst steps firm."

  "True, true, sir knight," replied the duke, moderating the acerbity ofhis manner; "but how can I rise higher than I am? Perhaps, indeed, mypride may soar too high a pitch, when I fancy that in this realm, nextto his grace the king, my head stands highest."

  "True," said Sir Payan; "but I have heard a prophecy, that yourgrace's head should be of all the highest without any weakeningqualification next to any man's. His grace King Henry may die, and Ihave myself known the Duke of Buckingham declare, that there wereshrewd doubts whether the king's marriage with his brother's wife wereso far valid as to give an heir to the English crown. Kings may die,too, of the sharp sword and the keen dagger. Such being the case, andthe king dying without heirs male, who will stand so near the throneas the Duke of Buckingham? Who has so much the people's love? Who maycommand so many of the most expert and powerful men in England?"

  The duke paused and thought. He was "not without ambition, though hewas without the illness that should accompany it." No one did he morethoroughly abhor than Sir Payan Wileton; and, yet rich, powerful,unscrupulous, full of politic wile and daring stratagem, Sir Payan wasa man who might serve him essentially as a friend, might injure himdeeply as an enemy; and he was, moreover, one that must be treated asone or the other, must be either courted or defied. While a thousandthoughts of this kind passed through the mind of the duke, andconnecting themselves with others, wandered far on the wild anduncertain tract that his ambition presented to his view, while thepassion by which angels fell was combating in his bosom with duty,loyalty, and friendship, the eye of Sir Payan Wileton glanced fromtime to time towards his face, watching and calculating the emotionsof his mind, with that degree of certainty which long observation ofthe passions and weakness of human nature had bestowed. At length hesaw the countenance of the duke lighted up with a triumphant smile,while, fixing his eyes upon the figure of an old king in the tapestry,he seemed busily engaged in anticipations of the future. "He has themnow," thought Sir Payan, "the crown, the sceptre, and the ball. Well,let him enjoy his golden dream;" and dropping his eyes on the table,he gathered the addresses of the various letters which Buckingham hadapparently been writing: "_The Earl of Devonshire_"--"_The LordDacre_"--"_Sir John Morton_"--"_The Earl of Fitzbernard, to berendered to the hands of Sir Osborne Maurice_"--"_The Prior ofLangley_."

  "Ha!" thought the knight, "Lord Fitzbernard! Sir Osborne Maurice! So,so! I have the train. Take heed, Buckingham! take heed, or you fall;"and he raised his eyes once more to the countenance of the duke, whoselook was now fixed full upon him.

  "Sir Payan Wileton," said Buckingham, "we have both been meditating,and perhaps our meditations have arrived at the same conclusion."

  "I hope, my lord duke," answered Sir Payan, returning to the formersubject of conversation, "that your grace finds that I _may_ be ofservice to you."

  "Not in the least," replied the duke, sternly; for it had so happenedthat his eyes had fallen upon Sir Payan just at the moment that theknight was furtively perusing the address of the letter to LordFitzbernard, and the combinations thus produced in the mind of thenoble Buckingham had not been very much in favour of Sir Payan: "notin the least, Sir Payan Wileton. Let me tell you, sir, that you mustrender back Chilham Castle to its lord; you must reverse all the evilthat you have done and attempted towards his son; you must abandonsuch foul schemes, and cancel all the acts of twenty years of yourlife, before you be such a man as may act with Buckingham."

  "My lord duke! my lord duke!" cried Sir Payan, "this is too much tobear. Your pride, haughty peer, has made you mad, but your pride shallhave a fall. Beware of yourself, Duke of Buckingham, for no one shallever say that he offended Sir Payan Wileton unscathed. Know you thatyou are in my power?"

  "In thine, insect!" cried the duke. "But begone! you move me too far.Ho! without there! Begone, I say, or Buckingham may forget himself!"

  "He shall not forget me," said Sir Payan. "Mark me, lord duke: youwisely deem, that because you have not shown me your daring schemes inyour hand-writing, you are safe, but you have yet to know Sir PayanWileton. We shall see, lord duke! we shall see! So, farewell!" andturning on his heel, he left the duke's closet, called for his horse,and in a few minutes was far on the road homeward.

  "Guilford," cried he, turning towards his attendants, "Guilford, rideup."

  At this order, a downcast, sneering-looking man drew out from the restof the servants and rode up to the side of his master, who fixed hiseyes upon him for a moment, shutting his teeth hard, as was his customwhen considering how to proceed. "Guilford," said h
e at last,"Guilford, you remember the infant that was found dead in Ashfordditch last year, that folks supposed to be the child of MaryBly----? ha!" The man turned deadly pale. "I have found an owner forthe kerchief in which it was tied with the two large stones,"proceeded Sir Payan. "A man came to me yesterday morning, who says hecan swear to the kerchief, and who it belonged to. Fie! do not shakeso! Do you think I ever hurt my own? Guilford, you must do me aservice. Take three stout fellows with you, on whom you can depend;cast off your liveries, and ride on with all speed to the hill on thisside of Rochester. Wait there till you see a courier come up with aswan embroidered on his sleeve; find means to quarrel with him; andwhen you return to Elham Manor, if you bear his bag with you, youshall each have five George nobles for your reward. But leave not theplace. Stir not till you have met with him. And now be quick; take thethree men with you; there will be enough left to return with me. Markme! let him not escape with his bag, for if you do, you buy yourself ahalter."

  "Which of them shall I take?" said the man. "There are Wandlesham andBlack John, who together stole the Prior of Merton's horse, and soldit at Sandwich. They would have been burned i' the hand if yourworship had not refused the evidence. Then there is Simpkin, thedeer-stealer----"

  "That will do," said Sir Payan, "that will do; 'tis said he setRaper's barn on fire. But be quick; we waste time."

  It was late the next day before the party of worthies whom Sir Payanentrusted with the honourable little commission above stated returnedto his house at Elham Manor; but, to his no small satisfaction, theybrought the Duke of Buckingham's letter-bag along with them, whichMaster Guilford deposited on the table before Sir Payan in his usualsullen manner, and only waited till he had received his reward, whichwas instantly paid; for the honest knight, well knowing by internalconviction that rascality is but a flimsy bond of attachment, tookcare to bind his serviceable agents to himself by the sure ties bothof hope and fear. If they were useful and silent, their hopes werenever disappointed; if they were negligent or indiscreet, their fearswere more than realised.

  The moment he was alone, the knight put his dagger into the bag, andripped it open from side to side. This done, his eye ran eagerly overthe various letters it contained, and paused on that to LordFitzbernard. In an instant the silk was cut, and the contents beforehis eyes.

  "Ha!" said Sir Payan, reading; "so here it is, the whole business; so,so, my young knight, 'the real name to be told to nobody till theking's good-will is gained.' But I will foil you, and blast your falsename before your real one is known. Good Duke of Buckingham, I thankyou! 'A villain!' If I am, you shall taste my villany. Oh! so he hadcharge to 'conduct the Lady Katrine Bulmer to the court: his feats ofarms and manly daring shall much approve him with the king.' Ay, butthey shall damn him with the cardinal, or I'll halt for it! Now forthe rest!"

  With as little ceremony as that which he had displayed toward theletter addressed to Lord Fitzbernard, Sir Payan tore open all therest, but seemed somewhat disappointed at their contents, gnawing hislip and knitting his brow till he came to the last, addressed to SirJohn Morton. "Ha!" exclaimed he, as he read, "Duke of Buckingham, youare mine! Now, proud Edward Bohun, stoop! stoop! for out of so littlea thing as this will I work thy ruin. But what means he by this? SirOsborne Maurice! It cannot be him he speaks of. It matters not; itshall tell well, too, and in one ruin involve them both. Sir OsborneMaurice! I have it! I have it! Sure the disclosure of such a plot asthis may well merit Wolsey's thanks; ay, and even, by good favour,some few acres off the broad estates of Constance de Grey. We shallsee. But first let us track this young gallant; we must know his everystep from Canterbury to Greenwich."

  Proud in supreme villany, Sir Payan trod with a longer stride,confidently calculating that he held all his enemies in his power;but, subtle as well as bold, he did not allow his confidence todiminish in the least his care; and calling to his aid one of hisretainers, upon whose cunning he could count with certainty, he laidhim upon the path of our hero like a hound upon the track of a deer,with commands to investigate, with the most minute care, every step hehad taken from Canterbury to Greenwich.

  "And now," said Sir Payan, "to-morrow for Greenwich; I must not failthe party of Sir Thomas Neville. When enemies grow strong, 'tis timeto husband friends;" and springing on his horse, he proceeded to putin train for execution some of those minor schemes of evil which hedid not choose to leave unregulated till his return.