CHAPTER XXII.
_Gloucester_.--Talking of hawking--nothing else, my lord.--Shakspere.
On arriving at the palace, Sir Osborne found that he had been sent forby the king; and hurrying his steps towards the privy chamber, he wasmet by Henry himself, bearing a hawk upon his hand, and armed with astout leaping-pole, as if prepared for the field. "Come, sir knight,"cried the king, "if you would see sport, follow quick. Bennet has justmarked a heron go down by the side of the river, and I am resolved tofly young Jacob here, that his wings may not rust. Follow quick!"
Thus speaking, the king made all speed out of the palace; and cuttingpartly across the park, and round the base of the hill, soon reachedthe edge of the river, where slower progress became necessary, and hecould converse with the young knight without interrupting his sport.Their conversation, however, was solely about hawking and itsaccessories; and winding along by the side of the sedges with whichthe bank was lined, they tried to raise the game by cries, and bybeating the rushes with the leaping-pole.
For a long way no heron made its appearance; and Henry was beginningto get impatient, just in the same proportion as he had been eager insetting out. Unwilling, however, to yield his sport, after persistingsome time in endeavouring, with the aid of Sir Osborne, to make theprey take flight, he sent back the only attendant that had followedhim for a dog, and went on slowly with the knight, pursuing the courseof the river. When they had proceeded about two hundred yards, and hadarrived at a spot where the bank rose into a little mound, the knightpaused, while Henry, rather crossed with not having instantly met withthe amusement he expected, sauntered on, bending his eyes upon theground.
"Hist, your grace! hist!" cried Sir Osborne: "I have him!"
"Where, man? where?" cried Henry, looking round without seeinganything. "'Odslife, where?"
"Here, your grace! here!" replied the knight. "Do you not see him,with one leg raised and the claw contracted, gazing on the water asintently as a lady in a looking-glass, by that branch of a tree thatis floating down?"
"Ha! yes, yes!" cried Henry. "The long neck and the blue back! 'Tishe. Whoop! sir heron! whoop! Cry him up, Maurice! cry him up!"
Sir Osborne joined his voice to the king's; and their united effortsreaching the ears of the long-legged fowl they were in search of, hespeedily spread his wings, stretched out his neck, and rose heavilyfrom the water. With a whoop and a cry the king slipped the jesses ofhis falcon, and flew him after the heron, who, for a moment, notperceiving the adversary that pursued him, took his flight over thefields, instead of rising high. On went the heron, on went the falcon,and on went Henry after them; till, coming to a little muddy creek,which thereabouts found its way into the river, the king planted hispole with his accustomed activity, and threw himself forward for theleap. Unfortunately, however, at the very moment that his whole weightwas cast upon the pole, in the midst of the spring, the wood snapped,and in an instant Sir Osborne saw the king fall flat on his face, andnearly disappear in the ooze and water with which the creek wasfilled. Henry struggled to free himself, but in vain; for the tenacityof the mud prevented his raising his head, so that in another minutehe must inevitably have been drowned, had not Sir Osborne plunged into his aid, and lifted his face above the water, thus giving him roomto breathe. Short as had been the time, however, that respiration hadbeen impeded, the king's powers were nearly exhausted, and even withthe knight's assistance he could not raise himself from the positionin which he had fallen.
Though an unsafe experiment for both, considering the mud and slimewith which they were entangled, nothing remained for Sir Osborne butto take the king in his arms, and endeavour to carry him to the bank;and this at length he accomplished, sometimes slipping, and sometimesstaggering, from the uncertain nature of the footing and the heavyburden that he carried; but, still supported by his vast strength, hecontrived to keep himself from falling, proceeding slowly andcarefully forward, and assuring himself of the firmness of each stepbefore he took another.[14]
With a feeling of inexpressible gladness, he seated Henry on the bank,and kneeling beside him expressed his hopes that he had received noinjury. "No," said the king, faintly; "no. But, Maurice, you havesaved my life. Thank God, and thank you!"
A pause now ensued, and the young knight endeavoured, as well ascircumstances would permit, to cleanse the countenance and hands ofthe monarch from the effects of the fall. While he was thus employed,the king gradually recovered his breath and strength, and from time totime uttered a word or two of thanks or directions, till at lastBennet, the attendant, was seen approaching with the dog.
"Stay, stay, Sir Osborne," said the monarch; "here comes Bennet. Wewill send him for fresh clothes. Where is the falcon? By my faith, Iowe you much; ay, as much as life! Whistle for the falcon; I have notbreath."
Sir Osborne uttered a long falconer's whistle, and in a moment thebird hovered above them, and perched upon the hand the monarchextended to it, showing by its bloody beak and claws that it hadstruck the prey. Nearly at the same time came up Bennet, who, as maybe supposed, expressed no small terror and surprise at beholding theking in such a situation, and was preparing to fill the air withejaculations and lamentations, when Henry stopped him in the midst.
"No, Bennet, no!" cried he; "keep all that for when I _am_ dead quite!Ha, man! 'twill be time enough then. Thanks to Sir Osborne, I am notdead at present. Here, take this bird. I have lost both hood andjesses in that foul creek. Hie to the manor, Bennet, and fetch me alarge cloak with a hood, and another for Sir Osborne. We will notreturn all draggled with the ooze; ha, Maurice! Quick, Bennet! Butmind, man; not a word of this misadventure, on your life!"
"Ah! your grace knows that I am discreet," replied the footman.
"Ay, as discreet as the babbling echo, or a jay, or a magpie," criedHenry; "but get thee gone, quick! and return by the path we came, forwe follow slowly. Lend me your arm, Sir Osborne. We will round by yonlittle bridge. A curse upon the leaping-pole, say I! By my fay, I willhave all the creeks in England stopped. I owe my life to you, buthereafter we will speak of that: I will find means to repay it."
"I am more than repaid, your grace," said Sir Osborne, "by theknowledge that, but for my poor aid, England might have lost her king,and within a few hours the whole realm might have been drowned intears."
"Ay, poor souls! I do believe they would regret me," said the monarch;"for, heaven knows, it is my wish to see them happy. A king's bestelegy is to be found in the tears of his subjects, Sir Osborne; andevery king should strive to merit their love when living and theirregret when dead."
Strange as it may seem, to those accustomed to picture themselvesHenry the Eighth as the sanguinary and remorseless tyrant which heappeared in later years, such were the sentiments with which he setout in his regal career, while youth, prosperity, and power were allin their first freshness: 'twas the tale of the spoiled child, whichwas always good-humoured when it was pleased. Now the first twelveyears of Henry's reign offered nought but pleasure, and during theirlapse he appeared a gay, light-hearted, gallant monarch, fit to ruleand win the hearts of a brave people; for nothing yet had arisen tocall into action the mighty vices that lay latent in his nature.Gradually, however, luxury produced disease, and disease pain, andpain called up cruelty; while long prosperity and uncontradicted swaymade him imperious, irascible, and almost frantic under opposition.But such was not the case now, and it was only the close observer ofhuman nature that could at all perceive in the young and splendidmonarch the traits that promised what he would afterwards become.
Discoursing on the unlucky termination of their sport, Henry proceededwith Sir Osborne into the park, and there awaited the coming of theservant with their cloaks; feeling a sort of foppish unwillingness toenter the palace in the state in which his fall had left him, hiswhole dress being stiff with mud, and both face and hands in anythingbut a comely condition. Many men might have taken advantage of SirOsborne's situation to urge their suit; but notwithstanding the verygreat claim that
the accident of the morning had given him upon Henry,the knight was hardly satisfied that it had occurred. He deemed that,in common decency, he should be obliged to delay the communicationwhich he had proposed to make that very evening, and thereby allowWolsey to arrive before the event was decided, which for every reasonhe had hoped to avoid. Were he to press his suit now, it would seem,he thought, surprising from the king's gratitude what his justicemight have denied, and indelicately to solicit a high reward for anaccidental service. His great hope, however, was that in the course ofthe evening the king might himself renew the subject, and, by offeringsome token of his thanks, afford him an opportunity of pleading forjustice for his father and himself.
The discomfited falconers waited not long in the park before they wererejoined by the servant bearing the cloaks which the king hadcommanded; but although they soon reached the palace, the clammywetness of his whole dress caused several slight shiverings to passover the limbs of Henry, and after some persuasion by Sir Osborne hewas induced to ask the counsel of his surgeon, who recommended himinstantly to bathe, and then endeavour to sleep.
This was, of course, a signal for the young knight to withdraw; andtaking leave of the king, he retired to his apartments to change hisown dress, which was not in a much more comfortable state than that ofthe monarch. Our old friend Longpole soon answered to his call; andwhile aiding him in his arrangements, without any comment upon thestate of his clothes, which he seemed to regard as nothingextraordinary, the honest custrel often paused to give a glance at hismaster's face, as one who has something to communicate, the nature ofwhich may not be very palatable to the hearer.
"Well, Longpole," said the knight, after observing several of theselooks, "when you have trussed these three points, you shall tell mewhat is the matter, for I see you have something on your mind."
"I only wished to ask your worship," said the custrel, "if you hadseen him; for he's lurking about here, like a blackbird under acherry-tree."
"Seen whom?" demanded the knight.
"Why, the devil, your worship," replied Longpole. "I've seen himtwice."
"Indeed!" said Sir Osborne; "and pray what did his infernal highnesssay to you when you did see him? Or rather, what do you mean?"
"Why, I mean, sir," replied the other, "that I have seen Sir PayanWileton twice here in the park during yesterday, if it was not hisghost; for he looked deadly pale, and I fancied I could smell a sortof brimstony smell. Now, I wot, a cunning priest would have told bythe flavour whether 'twas purgatory half and half, or unadulteratedhell: though, if he's not there, hell's empty."
"Hush!" said Sir Osborne; "speak not so lightly. When was this?"
"The first time I saw him, sir," answered the yeoman, "was yesterdayin the forenoon, soon after the justs, when I took a stroll out intothe park with Mistress Geraldine, the Lady Katrine's maid, for alittle fresh air after the peck of dust I had broken my fast upon inthe field. We had got, I don't know how, your worship, into thatlonely part under the hill, when beneath one of the trees hard by Isaw Sir Payan standing stock-still, with his hand in the bosom of hisdoublet. His colour was always little better than that of a turnip,but now it looked like a turnip boiled."
"Did he speak to you?" demanded Sir Osborne, "or give any sign that herecognised you?"
"He did not speak," replied Longpole; "but when he saw me, he quietlyslipped his hand out of the bosom of his doublet, and getting it downto the hilt of his poniard, kept fingering it with a sort ofaffectionate squeeze, as much as to say, 'Dearly beloved, how I shouldlike to pluck you out of your leathern case, and furnish you with oneof flesh and blood!' He was ever fond of playing with his poniard; andwhen he spoke to you, if it were but of sousing a toast, he would drawit in and out of the scabbard all the time, as though he were afraidof losing the acquaintance if he did not keep up the intimacy."
"You neither spoke nor took any notice, I hope," said Sir Osborne.
"Oh, no, your worship!" answered the custrel; "I did not even give him_bon jour_, though he was fond of talking French to me when he wishedto say something privately. I only twitched Mistress Geraldine over tothe other side, and passed him by close; thinking to myself, 'If I seeyour dagger in the air, I'll go nigh to sweep your head off with mybroadsword, if I have to run to France for it;' but seeing that Ilooked him in the face, he turned him round upon his heel, with a drawdown of the corner of his mouth, which meant a great deal if it wererightly read.
"Why, first, it meant--I hate you sufficiently to pretend to despiseyou. Then--I'll murder you whenever I can do so safely; and again itwent to say--Give my best love to your master, and tell him he'll hearmore of me soon."
"By my faith! a good reading, and, I doubt not, a true one," repliedthe knight; "but we must try and render his malice of no avail. Andnow, tell me, when did you see him the second time?"
"The second time was after dinner, sir," said Longpole, "when hisgrace the king, yourself, and the Duke of Suffolk kept the barriersagainst all comers."
"He did not try the field, did he?" demanded Sir Osborne.
"Oh, no!" replied Longpole; "he stood looking on at a good distance,wrapped up in a cloak, so that it needed sharp eyes to recognise him;but I saw him all the time fix his eyes upon you, so like a cat beforea mouse-hole, that I thought every minute to see him overspring thebarrier and take you by the throat. Depend upon it that good andhonest knight, like his german-cousin, Satan, never travels for anygood, and we shall hear more of him."
"I doubt it not," answered Sir Osborne; "and we must guard againsthim. But now, Longpole, a word or two to you. Did you give the packet,as I directed you, to Mistress Geraldine, Lady Katrine's woman?"
"I did, your worship," answered Longpole, somewhat surprised at theserious air that came over his lord's countenance: "I gave itimmediately I received it from your hands."
"That was right," replied Sir Osborne. "And now, let me say to you, mygood Heartley, that I have remarked you often with this same girlGeraldine, and it seems to me that you are seeking her love."
"Oh! good now! your worship," cried Longpole; "if you prohibit me frommaking love, it's all over with me. Indeed, your worship, I could notdo without it. It is meat, drink, and sleep to me; better than astirrup-cup when I rise in the morning, or a sleeping cup when I go tobed at night. 'Faith I could not sleep without being in love. There,when I was with Sir Payan, where there was nothing to fall in lovewith but the portrait of his grandmother against the wall, I could notsleep o' nights at all, and was forced to take to deer-stealing, justfor amusement. 'Odslife! your worship is hard on me. There, you havea bellyful of love, all day long, from the highest ladies of thecourt, and you would deny me as much as will lie in the palm of aserving-woman."
"Nay, nay, Longpole!" said Sir Osborne, laughing; "you have taken meup too hastily. All I meant to say was, merely, that seeing you areevidently seeking this poor girl's love, you must not play her false.I do not wish to imply that you would wrong her virtue: of that I amsure you are incapable; but I mean you must not win her love, and thenleave her for another."
"Dear heart, no!" cried Longpole; "I would not for the world. Poorlittle soul! she has suffered enough; so I'm now consoling her, yourworship. It's wonderful how soon a broken heart is patched up with alittle of the same stuff that broke it. It is the very reverse ofpiecing a doublet; for in love you mend old love with new, and it'salmost as good as ever. However, some day soon we intend to ask yourworship's leave and the priest's blessing, and say all those oddlittle words that tie two folks together."
"My leave and good wishes you shall have, Longpole," replied theknight, "and all I can do to assist your purse. Hark! is not that thetrumpet to dinner? Give me my bonnet; I will down and dine at theboard of estate to-day, as I was not there yesterday."
On descending to the hall, Sir Osborne was instantly assailed by athousand questions respecting the accident which had befallen theking; for, what between the diligent exertions of the attendants andthose of the surgeon, the news had already s
pread through the wholecourt. In reply, the knight gave as brief and exact an account of thewhole occurrence as possible, endeavouring to stop the lying tongue ofRumour by furnishing her with the truth at least. After dinner hereturned to his own apartments, and only left them once for amomentary visit to Constance de Grey, remaining in hopes all theevening that the king might send for him when he arose. Such hopes,however, were in vain: day waned and night fell, and the knight's suitwas no farther advanced than when Sir Cesar warned him to hasten it inthe morning.
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