Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXV.

  And knowing this, should I yet stay, Like such as blow away their lives, Enamoured of their golden gyves?--Ben Jonson.

  Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive, It is applied to a deathful wound.--Shakspere.

  Who would be a king if he could help it? When Wolsey had left him,Henry once more raised the papers which lay upon the table, and readthem through; then leant his head upon his hand, and passed somemoments in deep and frowning meditation. "No!" said he, "no! I willnot show them to him, lest he warn the traitor Buckingham. Ho,without! Tell Pace to come to me;" and again falling into thought, heremained musing over the papers with bent brows and an absent air,till the secretary had time to obey his summons. On his approach, thegood but timid Pace almost trembled at the angry glow he saw upon theking's face; but he was relieved by Henry placing in his hands thepapers which Wolsey had left, bidding him have good care thereof.

  Pace took the papers in respectful silence, and waited an instant tosee whether the king had further commands; but Henry waved his hand,crying, "Begone! leave me, and send the page."

  The page lost not a moment in appearing; for the king's hasty mood waseasily discernible in his aspect, and no one dared, even by aninstant's delay, to add fuel to the fire which was clearly burning inhis bosom; but still Henry allowed him to wait for several minutes."Who waits in the ante-chamber?" demanded he, at length.

  "Sir Charles Hammond, so please your grace," replied the page.

  "And where is Denny?" asked the king. "Where is Sir Anthony Denny,ha?"

  "He has been gone about an hour, your grace," replied the page.

  "They hold me at nought!" cried Henry. "Strike his name from the list!By my life, I will teach him to wait! Go call Sir Osborne Maurice tomy presence," and rising from his seat, he began again to pace theapartment.

  The page, as he conducted the young knight to the hall in which Henryawaited him, took care to hint that he was in a terrific mood, withthat sort of eagerness which all vulgar people have to spread eviltidings. The knight, however, asked no question and made no comment,and passing through the door which he had seen give admission to thepriest about an hour before, he entered the ante-chamber, in which wasseated Sir Charles Hammond, who saluted him with a silent bow.Proceeding onward, the page threw open the door of the privy-chamber,and Sir Osborne approached the king, in the knitting of whose brow,and in the curling of whose lip, might be plainly seen the inwardirritation of his impetuous spirit. As he came near, Henry turnedround, and fixed his eye upon him; and the knight, not knowing whatmight be the cause or what the consequence of his anger, bent his kneeto the ground, and bowing his head, said, "God save your grace!"

  "Marry, thou sayest well!" cried Henry. "We trust he will, and guardus ever against traitors! What say you?"

  "If ever there be a man so much a traitor to himself," replied SirOsborne, "as to nourish one thought against so good a king, oh, mayhis treason fall back upon his own head, and crush him with theweight!"

  "Well prayed again," said Henry, more calmly. "Rise, rise, SirOsborne; we must speak together. Give me your arm. We cannot sit andspeak when the heart is so busy. We will walk. This hall has spaceenough," and with a hurried pace he took one or two turns in thechamber, fixing his eyes upon the ground, and biting his lip insilence. "Now, by our Lady!" cried he at length, "there are many menin this kingdom, Sir Osborne Maurice, who, seeing us here, holdingyour arm and walking by your side, would judge our life in peril."

  Sir Osborne started, and gazed in Henry's face with a look of no smallsurprise.

  "Did I but know of any one," said he, at length, "who could poisonyour royal ear with such a tale, were it other than a churchman or awoman, he should either confess his falsehood or die upon my sword.But your grace is noble, and believes them not. However," hecontinued, unbuckling his sword and laying it on the table as far awayas possible, "on all accounts I will put that by. There lays the swordthat was given me by an emperor, and here is the hand that saved aking's life; and here," he continued, kneeling at the king's feet, "isa heart as loyal as any in this realm, ready to shed its best blood ifits king command it. But tell me, only tell me, how I have offended."

  "Rise, sir knight," said the king. "On my life, I believe you so far,that if you have done wrong, you have been misled; and that your heartis loyal I am sure: yet listen. You came to this court a stranger; inyou I found much of valour and of knightly worth. I loved you, and Ifavoured you; yet now I find that you have in much deceived me. Speaknot, for I will not see in you any but the man who has saved my life;I will know you for none other. Say, then, Sir Osborne, is not life agood return for life? It is? ha?"

  "It is, my liege," replied Sir Osborne, believing his real namediscovered. "Whatever I have done amiss has been but error ofjudgment, not of heart, and surely cannot be held as very deep offencein eyes so gracious as my noble king's."

  "We find excuses for you, sir, which rigorous judges might not find,"replied the monarch; "yet there are many who strive to make yourfaults far blacker than they are, and doubtless may urge much againstyou; but hitherto we stand between you and the law, giving you lifefor life. But see you use the time that is allowed you well, forto-morrow, at high noon, issues the warrant for your apprehension, andif you make not speed to leave this court and country, your fate uponyour head, for you have warning."

  Sir Osborne was struck dumb, and for a moment he gazed upon the kingin silent astonishment. "I know not what to think," he cried, after awhile; "I cannot believe that a king famous for his clemency, can seein my very worst crime aught but an error. Your grace has said thatmany strive to blacken me; still humbly at your feet let me beseechyou to tell me of what they do accuse me."

  "Of many rank offences, sir!" replied the king, somewhat impatiently;"offences of which you might find it hard to wash yourself so clear asnot to leave enough to weigh you down. However, 'tis our will that youdepart the court, without further sojourn; and if you are wise, you'llspeed to leave a country where you may chance to find worseentertainment and a harder lodging if you stay. Go to the keeper ofour private purse, who will give a thousand marks to clear yourjourney of all cost; and God befriend you for the time to come!"

  "Nay, your grace," replied Sir Osborne, "poor as I came I'll go; butthus far richer, that for one short month I won a great king's love,and lost it without deserving; and if to this your grace will add thefavour to let me once more kiss your royal hand, you'll send megrateful forth."

  Henry held out his hand towards him. "By my faith," cried he, "I dobelieve him honest! But the proofs! the proofs! Go, go, Sir Osborne; Ijudge not harshly of you. You have been misled; but fly speedily, Icommand you; for your own sake, fly!"

  Sir Osborne raised himself, took his sword from the table, and, with alow obeisance to the king, quitted the room, his heart far too full tospeak with any measure what he felt.

  His hopes all broken, his dream of happiness dispelled like a wreathof morning mist in the sunshine, the young knight sought his chamber,and casting himself in a seat, leant his head upon his hands, in anattitude of total despondency. He did not think; for the rackingimages of despair that hurried through his brain were very differentfrom the defined shapes of the most busy thought. His bosom was achaos of dark and gloomy feelings, and it was long before reason lenthim any aid to arrange and disentangle his ideas. As it did so,however, the thought of whither he should fly presented itself, andhis first resolution was to go to his father in Wales; but then, to bethe bearer of such news! it was more than he could undertake. Besides,as he reflected, he saw that, use what speed he might, his coursewould be easily tracked in that direction, and that the facilitieswhich the messengers of the government possessed of gaining freshhorses would soon enable them to overtake and arrest him if thewarrant were issued the next day at noon, as the king had said, andfollowed up with any degree of alacrity. That it would be so he had noreason to doubt, attributing, as he did, the whole of his misfortuneto the hat
red and jealousy of Wolsey; whose haste to ruin him had beensufficiently evinced by his having begun and completed it within oneday after his arrival from York. These thoughts brought on others; andnot knowing the stinging impulse of a favourite's jealousy, hepondered over the malice of the cardinal, wondering whether in formerdays his father might have offered the then rising minister eitheroffence or injury, and thus entailed his evil offices on himself andfamily. But still the question, whither he should fly, returned; andafter much consideration he resolved that it should be to Flanders,once more to try the fortune of his sword; for though peace nominallysubsisted between the French king and the new emperor, it was a peacewhich could be but of short duration, and it was even then interruptedby continual incursions upon each other's territories, and incessantviolation of the frontier by the various garrisons of France andBurgundy. Once arrived, he would write, he thought, to his father, whowould surely join him there, and they would raise their house and namein a foreign land. But Constance de Grey--could she ever be his? Heknew not; but at her very name Hope relighted her torch, and he beganto dream again.

  As he thought thus, he raised his eyes, and perceived his faithfulattendant Longpole watching him with a look of anxious expectation,waiting till his agitated reverie should end. "How! Longpole!" saidhe. "You here? I did not hear you come in."

  "I have been here all the time, your worship," replied the yeoman."And I've made some noise in the world, too, while you have been here,for I let all the armour fall in that closet."

  "I did not hear you," said the knight. "My thoughts were very busy.But, my good Heartley, I am afraid the time is come that we mustpart."

  "By my faith, it must be a queer time, then, your worship!" answeredLongpole; "for it is not every-day weather that will make me quit you,especially when I see you in such a way as you were just now."

  "But, my good Longpole," answered the knight, "I am ruined. The kinghas discovered who I really am; Wolsey has whetted his anger againstme, and he has banished me his court, bidding me fly instantly, lest Ibe to-morrow arrested, and perhaps committed to the Tower. I musttherefore quit this country without loss of time, and take my way toFlanders, for my hopes here are all at an end. Wolsey is too powerfulto be opposed."

  "Well, then, my lord," said Longpole, "I will call you by your realname now; and so I'll go and saddle our horses, pack up as much as Ican, and we'll be off in a minute."

  "But, my good Longpole," said his master, "you do not think what youare doing. Indeed, you must not leave your country and your friends,and that poor girl Geraldine, to follow a man ruined in fortune andexpectations, going to travel through strange lands, where he knowsnot whether he may find friends or enemies."

  "More reason he should have a companion on the road," repliedLongpole. "But, my lord, my determination is made. Where you go, therewill I go too; and as to little Mistress Geraldine, why, when we'vemade a fortune, which I am sure we shall do, I'll make her trot overafter me. But, as I suppose there is but little time to spare, I willgo get everything into order as fast as possible. _Carpe diem_, asgood Dr. Wilbraham used to say to me when I was lazy. There is yourlordship's harness. If you can manage to pop on the breast and backpieces, I will be back directly."

  "Nay," said the knight, "there is yet one person I must see. However,be not long, good fellow, for I shall not stay. Give me that wrappingcloak with the hood."

  Longpole obeyed; and enveloping himself in a large mantle, which hehad upon a former occasion used to cover his armour, in one of thosefanciful justs where every one appeared disguised, the knight left hisown apartments, and proceeded to those of Lady Constance de Grey. Manywere the sounds of mirth and merriment which met his ears as he passedby the various ranges of apartments, jarring harshly with all his ownsorrowful feelings, and in the despondency of his mind he marvelledthat any but idiots or madmen could indulge in laughter in a world sofull of care. Hurrying on to avoid such inharmonious tones, heapproached the suite of rooms appropriated to Lady Constance, and wassurprised at finding the door open. Entering, nothing but confusionseemed to reign in the ante-chamber, where her maids were usuallyfound employed in various works. Here stood a frame for caul-work,there one for embroidery; here a cushion for Italian lace thrown uponthe ground; there a chair overturned; while two of the maids stoodlooking out of the window (to make use of the homely term), cryingtheir eyes out.

  "Where is your mistress?" demanded Sir Osborne, as he entered; theagitation of his own feelings, and the alarm he conceived from thestrange disarray of the apartment, making him stint his form of speechto the fewest words possible.

  "We do not know, sir," replied one of the desolate damsels. "All thatwe know is, that she is gone."

  "Gone!" cried Sir Osborne. "Gone! In the name of heaven, whither isshe gone? Who is gone with her?"

  "Jesu Maria, sir! don't look so wild," cried the woman, who thoughtherself quite pretty enough, even in her tears, to be a littlefamiliar. "Dr. Wilbraham is with the Lady Constance, and so isMistress Margaret, and therefore she is safe enough, surely."

  "But cannot you say whither she is gone?" cried the knight. "When didshe go? How?"

  "She went but now, sir," replied the woman. "She was sent for about anhour or more ago to the little tapestry-hall, to speak with my lordcardinal; and after that she came back very grave and serious, andmade Mistress Margaret pack up a great parcel of things, while sheherself spoke with Dr. Wilbraham; and when that was done, they allthree went away together; but before she went she gave each of usfifty marks a-piece, and said that she would give us news of her."

  "Did she not drop any word in regard to her destination?" demanded SirOsborne. "Anything that might lead you to imagine whither she wasgone?"

  "Mistress Margaret said they were going to London," said the othergirl, turning round from the window, and speaking through her tears."She said that they were going because such was my lord cardinal'swill. But I don't believe it, for she said it like a lie; and I'm sureI shall never see my young lady again. I'm sure I shan't! So now, sirknight, go away and leave us, for we can tell you nothing more."

  The knight turned away. "Oh, Constance! Constance!" thought he, as hepaced back to his apartments; "will you ever be able to resist all theinfluence they may bring against you? When you hear, too, of yourlover's disgrace! Well, God is good, and sometimes joy shines forthout of sorrow, like the sun that dispels the storm." As he thoughtthus, the prediction of Sir Cesar, that their misfortune should be butof short duration, came across his mind. "The evil part of hisprophecy," thought he, "is already on my head. Why should I doubt thegood? Come, I will be superstitious, and believe it fully; for hope issurely as much better than fear as joy is better than sorrow. WillConstance ever give her hand to another? Oh, no, no! And surely,surely, I shall win her yet."

  Of all the bright gifts with which heaven has blessed our youth, thereis none more excellent than that elasticity of spirit which reboundsstrongly from the depressing load of a world's care, and after theheaviest weight of sorrow, or the severest stroke of disappointment,raises us lightly up, and gives us back to hope and to enjoyment. Itis peculiar to youth, and it is peculiar to good conduct; for thereiterated burdens that years cast upon us as they fly gradually robthe spring of expectation of its flexibility, and vice feels withinitself that it has not the same right to hope as virtue. Sir Osborne'sspirit was all rebound; and though surrounded with doubts, withdifficulties, and with dangers, it was not long before he was ready totry again the wide adventurous world, with unabated vigour ofendeavour, though rebuffed in his first endeavours and disappointed inhis brightest expectations.

  On returning to his apartment he found his faithful attendant readyprepared; and there was a sort of easy, careless confidence in thehonest yeoman's manner, that well seconded the efforts of revivinghope in his master's breast. It seemed as if he never thought for amoment that want of success was possible; and, besides, he was one ofthose over whom Fortune has little power. He himself had no extraneouswants or wishe
s. Happy by temperament, and independent by bodilyvigour, he derived from nature all that neither Stoic nor Epicureancould obtain by art. He was a philosopher by frame; and more than aphilosopher, as the word is generally used, for he had a warm heartand a generous spirit, and joined affection for others to carelessnessabout himself.

  Such was the companion, of all others, fitted to cheer Sir Osborne onhis way; far more so than if he had been one of equal rank or equalrefinement, for he was always ready to assist, to serve, to amuse, oradvise, without sufficient appreciation of finer feelings toencourage, even by understanding them, those thoughts upon which theknight might have dwelt painfully in conversation with any one else.

  At the same time, Longpole was far above his class in every respect.He had some smattering of classical knowledge, which was all thatrested with him of the laborious teaching which good Dr. Wilbraham hadbestowed upon his youth; he not only could read and write, but hadread all the books he could get at, while a prisoner in France, andhad, on more than one occasion, contrived to turn a stanza, thoughneither the stuff nor the workmanship was very good; and he had,moreover, a strange turn for jesting, which he took care to keep inperpetual exercise. To these he joined all the thousand littleserviceable qualifications of an old soldier, and an extraordinaryfluency in speaking French, which had proved very useful to him inmany instances. Thus equipped inwardly, he now stood before SirOsborne, with his outward man armed in the plain harness of a custrel,or shield-bearer, with casque and corslet, cuissards, brassards, andgauntlets; and considering that he was nearly six feet three inches inheight, he was the sort of man that a knight might not be sorry to seeat his back in the _m?l?e_ or the skirmish.

  "Longpole," said the knight, "give me my armour; I will put it onwhile you place what clothes you can in the large horsebags. But, mygood custrel, we must put something over our harness: give me thatsurcoat. You have not barded my horse, I trust?"

  "Indeed I have, my lord," replied he; "and depend on it you may haveneed thereof. Remember how dear the barding of a horse is: I speak ofthe steel, which is, in fact, the true bard, or bardo, as the Italianscall it, for the cloth that covers it is not the bard; and if youcarry the steel with you, you may as well have the silk too."

  "But 'twill weary the horse," said Sir Osborne; "however, as 'tis on,let it stay: only it may attract attention, and give too good a trackto any that follow; though, God knows, I can hardly determine whichway to turn my rein."

  "To London! to London, to be sure, your worship," cried Longpole;"that is the high road to every part on the earth, and off the earth,and under the earth. If a man want to go to heaven, he will there findguides; if he seek hell, he will find plenty going the same road; andif he love this world better, there shall he meet conveyance to everypart of it. What would you think of just paying a visit to good MasterWilliam Hans, the merchant, to see if he cannot give us a cast over toFlanders? A thousand to one he has some vessel going, or knows someone that has."

  "Well bethought," answered Sir Osborne, slowly buckling on his armour."It will soon grow dusk, and then our arms will call no attention. Myhands refuse to help me on with my harness: I am very slow. Nay, goodLongpole, if you have already finished, take a hundred marks out ofthat bag, which will nearly empty it, and seek the three men the Dukeof Buckingham gave me. Divide it between them for their service; and,good Longpole, when you have done that, make inquiries about thepalace as to what road was taken by Lady Constance de Grey and Dr.Wilbraham. Do not mention the lady; name only Dr. Wilbraham, as if Isought to speak with him."

  Longpole obeyed, and after about half-an-hour's absence returned,tolerably successful in his inquiries; but, much to his surprise anddisappointment, he found his young lord very nearly in the samesituation in which he had left him, sitting in his chair, half armed,with his casque upon his knee, his fine head bare, and his eye fixedupon the fading gleams of the evening sky, where some faint cloudsjust above the distant trees seemed as if lingering in the beams ofthe sun's bright eye, like man still tenacious of the last ray ofhope.

  "Well, Longpole," cried he, waking from his reverie, "what news? Haveyou heard anything of Lady Constance?" and, as if ashamed of hisdelay, he busied himself to finish the arrangement of his armour.

  "Let me aid you, my lord," said Longpole, kneeling down, and sooncompleting, piece by piece, what his master had left unfinished,replying at the same time to his question. "I have spoken with the manwho carried the baggage down to the boat, my lord; and he says thatDr. Wilbraham, Lady Constance, and one of her women, took water abouthalf-an-hour after the lord cardinal, and seemed to follow his barge."

  Sir Osborne fell into another reverie, from which, at last, he rousedhimself with a sigh. "Well, I can do nothing," said he; "like an angrychild I might rage and struggle, but I could do no more. Were I tostay, 'twould but be committing me to the Tower, and then I must bestill perforce----"

  Longpole heard all this with an air of great edification; but when hethought that his master had indulged himself enough, he ventured tointerrupt him by saying, "The sun, sir, has gone to bed; had not webetter take advantage of his absence, and make our way to London?Remember, sir, he is an early riser at this time of year, and will beup looking after us tomorrow before we are well aware."

  "Ay, Longpole, ay!" replied the knight; "I will linger no longer, forit is unavailing. The trumpet must have sounded to supper by thistime; has it not? So we shall have no idlers to gaze at ourdeparture."

  "The trumpet sounded as I went down but now," said Longpole, "and Imet the sewer carrying in a brawn's head so like his own, that I couldnot help thinking he had killed and cooked his brother: they must behard at his grace's liege capons even now."

  "Well, I am ready," said the knight; "give me the surcoat of tawnyvelvet. Now; no more feathers!" he continued, plucking from his casquethe long plume that, issuing from the crest in graceful sweeps, fellback almost to his girdle, taking care, however, at the same time, toleave behind a small white glove wrought with gold, that hadsurrounded the insertion of the feather, and which he secured in itsplace with particular attention. "Some one will have rare pillage ofthis apartment," he added, looking round. "That suit of black armouris worth five hundred marks; but it matters not to think of it: wecannot carry them with us. The long sword and baldrick, Longpole, andthe gold spurs: I will go as a knight, at least. Now, take the bags. Ifollow. Farewell, King Henry! you have lost a faithful subject!"

  Thus saying, he proceeded down the stairs after Longpole, andfollowing a corridor, passed by one of the small doors of the greathall, through the partial opening of which were to be heard the rattleand the clatter of plates, of dishes, and of knives, and the buzz ofmany busy jaws. A feeling of disgust came over Sir Osborne as he heardit, he scarce knew why, and stayed not to inquire, but striding on,came speedily to the stable-yard, and was crossing towards thebuilding in which his horses stood, when he observed a man loiteringnear the door of the stable, whom he soon discovered to be one of theyeomen given him by the Duke of Buckingham.

  "On, Longpole!" cried the knight; "on, and send him upon some errand,for I am in no fit mood to speak with him now." While Sir Osborne drewback into the doorway, Longpole advanced, and in a moment after theman was seen traversing the court in another direction. The knightthen proceeded, the horses were brought forth, and springing into thesaddle, Sir Osborne, with a sigh given to the recollection of losthopes, touched his charger with the spur, and rode out of the gates.Longpole followed, and in a few minutes they were on the high road toLondon.