Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter

by John G. Edgar

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE WINDSOR OF KING JOHN

  “Whether,” says an old writer, speaking of Windsor, “you regard thewholesomeness of the air, the natural beauty and strength of thesituation of the place, the pleasant pastime ministered out of theforest, chases, and parks that are annexed unto it, the goodneighbourhood of that noble river which runneth by it, or the respectivecommodity of that most flourishing city, that is not past half-a-day’sjourney removed from it, you will find it comparable to any prince’spalace that is abroad, and far surmounting any that we have at home.”But this was written long after Windsor was rebuilt and extended byWilliam of Wykeham, at the command of the third Edward, when it stoodregal in situation and aspect, with the standard of England waving fromits battlements--a monument--and no unworthy monument--of the pride ofthe Plantagenets in peace, and of their prowess in war.

  It was a very much less splendid edifice, however--as the reader maysuppose--which, at the opening of the thirteenth century, stood on thebrow of the hill looking over twelve fair counties, and with the Thamesflowing at its feet; and it lacked even such means and appliances forrendering mediæval life comfortable and convenient as had come intofashion when, some sixty years later, Eleanor of Castile kept housealmost constantly within its walls, and when the conqueror, of Eveshamand Kakhow, in the midst of his grand projects of policy and war, wasin the habit, on festive occasions, of making merry in the hall, and, ashis people liked well to hear, playing “blindman’s-buff” with hischildren more readily and as heartily as he played a deeper, butsomewhat similar, game with Boniface VIII. and Philip the Fair.

  No doubt, even in the time of Edward and Eleanor, Windsor was rather agloomy building for a palace, according to modern ideas, and utterlyunlike the regal pile which now occupies the ground--recalling theshadowy past, with a host of memories gratifying to the national pride.For it carries the mind, through five eventful centuries, to that era ofEnglish chivalry which could boast of the Black Prince, and which wasmarked by the institution of the Order of the Garter, and renderedglorious not only by Cressy, and Poictiers, and Navaretta, but by greatnaval victories over France and Spain, which, even at that early period,made England mistress of the sea. Still, before the reign of John,Windsor, originally founded by the Conqueror as a hunting seat, hadwitnessed right royal marriages and high feudal ceremonies--especiallythe marriage of Henry Beauclerc to his second wife, Adelicia ofLouvaine, and the homage of the King of Scots and of the Norman baronsto the Empress Maude--and had been so enlarged by succeeding kings,that, among the royal fortresses, it was regarded as second inimportance only to the Tower of London when the Plantagenets began torule England, and was determinedly fought for by the variouspersonages--whether prelates or princes--whose quarrels disturbedEngland during the crusade and captivity of Cœur-de-Lion--Prince Johnamong the number. Imagine an old Norman stronghold on the brow of thehill, with towers, and turrets, and battlements, grey walls, penetratedby loopholes to admit the light, gloomy halls, with huge chimneys andoaken rafters, long, straggling chambers, a garden and a vineyard, achapel dedicated to Edward the Confessor, and parks stretching away intothe forest abounding with wild cattle and beasts of game, and you willhave a notion of what Windsor was when King John removed thither fromthe great metropolitan stronghold before meeting the Anglo-Norman baronsat Runnymede, with the intention of granting their demands.

  It was not on this occasion John’s fortune to be very magnificentlyattended. In fact, he was every day becoming more unpopular; and manymen who might otherwise have been inclined to arm in his behalf wereawed into neutrality by the hostile bearing and the menacing attitudewhich the confederate barons assumed towards all who would not supporttheir cause. Several men of consideration, however, were sufficientlyunder the influence of loyal memories to adhere steadfastly to the regalstandard, though not much enamoured of a king who had brought his crowninto such jeopardy; and the royal party, besides the Earls of Pembrokeand Salisbury, and Warren, and Lord Hugh Neville, included eight bishopsand about seventy knights. Besides, the papal legate accompanied John,and gave him the whole benefit of his influence, which, in spite of thecounteracting influence of the primate, was not slight, nor to belightly regarded, as both the primate and the barons well knew.Nevertheless, in spite of the presence of the legate and bishops, eventhe most steadfast of his partisans looked grave; and on the evening ofThursday, the 14th of June, John sat at supper in the gloomy great hallof Windsor with the expression of a man who saw the handwriting on thewall, and whose crown and sceptre were about to pass away.

  At a late hour, when the Earl of Pembroke, and the legate, and the eightbishops had quaffed the “poculum charitatis,” and been ceremoniouslyconducted to the apartments appropriated to their use, Hugh Neville, whowas Keeper of the Great Seal, and one of the staunchest of the king’sadherents, reached Windsor and was admitted to the presence of the king,whom he found pacing his chamber restlessly. Many a time, in seasons ofdepression, John had drawn consolation for the present and hope for thefuture from Neville’s counsels; but now the Norman baron had a weight ofcare on his brow, and looked liker a man to need than to administerconsolation and hope.

  “Welcome, Hugh Neville,” exclaimed John, endeavouring to be gay, “I amright glad to see your face, though it is somewhat longer than I couldwish--as glad as if you had brought the philosopher’s stone in yourpocket.”

  Hugh Neville bowed in acknowledgment of the royal courtesy, and remainedsilent, that John might pursue the subject without interruption.

  “I mean the stone which is said to turn everything into gold,” continuedJohn, “and beshrew me if gold would now come amiss. Had I but treasure,methinks I could not fail speedily to better my position.”

  “Sire,” said Neville, gravely, “the best treasures of a king are thehearts of his people.”

  John looked angrily, supposing that the words conveyed some reproach;but seeing that none was intended he calmed himself, smoothed hisruffled brow, and answered--

  “By my faith, Neville, it is too late to speak in such a strain now,when everything, almost even hope, is lost. Beshrew me if I feel notstrongly at times that I would rather be laid to-morrow by the side ofmy father and mother in the abbey of Fontevraud than endure thehumiliation of submitting to the triumph of my foes.”

  “Sire,” replied Neville, “in this life we must take the thorn with therose, the sweet with the bitter. But life is life after all; and a livedog is better than a dead lion.”

  “And yet,” said John, sorrowfully, “you know full well that ifFitzwalter and his confederates are henceforth to have their own way,and to do what they list in England, I am like to lead a life comparedto which that of a dog is comfort and dignity. By St. Wulstan! I am liketo be no better than a slave in mine own realm; and no being on earth isso contemptible as a despised king.”

  Hugh Neville was silent.

  “Why speak you not?” asked John, sternly. “I want to hear what you wouldcounsel me to do.”

  “Sire,” replied Neville, frankly, “I was thinking that, if any qualitywould stand you in good stead in the present situation of affairs, itwould be that which the Arabs say is the price of all felicity--I meanpatience.”

  John’s brow darkened, and his lip curled. It was not the advice which hewished his minister to give, and, being against the grain, was not welltaken.