With Ring of Shield

by Knox Magee

  CHAPTER XIX

  A MESSAGE IS SENT TO RICHMOND

  Harlston's statement, that the line of Richard's success must part, andthat he could not gain the ship's cargo, proved to be wrong.Gloucester had met with success where'er he turned.

  Hastings' death had been received with but grumblings of discontent andnot, as we had hoped, with clamorous outbursts of bloody insurrection.

  Stanley, for remonstrating with Gloucester, in an attempt to save hisfriend, Hastings, from his fate, was now confined within the Tower'swalls. The Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Ely here kept himcompany.

  Whisperings there now were of the coronation of a different King fromEdward. Richard's full hand was now being shown to the whole broadworld. Most of those which lived at court had seen it, ere this lastcard was laid upon the board.

  Rumours to the effect that young Edward's father's marriage with theLady Grey, the young King's mother, had been illegal now had a noblecirculation. 'Twas whispered in the court, and gossipped o'er. 'Twasthe sole story on the tradesman's lips. The urchin in the street hadheard it told, and each ear did either credit or despise the tale, thatEdward, the father of our present King, had been united by the bonds ofwedlock with the Lady Eleanor Talbot, daughter of the Earl ofShrewsbury, previous to his union with the Lady Grey. This tale, 'tisscarce necessary for me to say, was but one of many similar inventionsof Richard to throw discredit on the rightful Sovereign, and thus helphim to reach that awful height to which he was determined to climb.

  As my friend and I were one day passing the great Church of St. Paul,we were attracted by a surging crowd of people trying, as best theymight, to see some poor soul who had just finished doing penance in asheet of white, and who now stood, in pitiful abashment, upon thechurch's steps. Behold her as she stands there, an object of curiosityand derision. Hear the coarse jests of the vulgar rabble, who, intheir delight at the sight of fallen power, hurl at her defenselessears all the filthy epithets in the vocabulary of the indecent.Compare her authority of yesterday with her degradation of to-day. Notone of those who were helped to power and greatness, by this woman, nowspeak one word of sympathy or regret. Such a scene should find in Hellmore fitting surroundings for its tragic action. So could I imaginethe condemned souls revel and domineer when a Prince of Darkness hathbeen reduced to a lower level. Another triumph for the Protector.This is Jane Shore, the mistress of the late lamented Edward.Gloucester, the better to deceive the people, and make them to believein his purity and religious ardour, compelled this poor woman, whosesole crime against the state was that her Creator had given her suchbeauty as to cause the amorous Edward to cast a longing eye uponher--which, with that fiery Sovereign, was ever the prologue to ahistory of a woman's loss of character--to thus do penance, draped in asheet, before the insulting eyes of the scum of the city's population.

  "Look at the shameless hussy standing, with bowed head, as though shecared a hair for all this gentle penance. See how she stands,blushing, as a properer dame might do," said a heartless wretch,dressed in the garb of a gentleman.

  Harleston stooped and, taking up a stone, he handed it to this fellow,with these words:--'There, my fine fellow, hurl thou this pebble at thewoman there. 'Tis much to be regretted, sir, that thou didst not livein the days of Christ. He asked for such an one as thou to hurl thestone at Mary Magdalene."[1]

  "And who art thou, sir, to criticise my words?"

  "A gentleman," replied Harleston with a slight bow. Then, as thefellow stared stupidly into his face, my friend again said:--"Isuppose, sir, that thou dost not e'en comprehend the meaning of thatname. I should have used another word. This, then, is the definitionof that article with which you have no doubt often met, and still youunderstand not. First, he is a man; second, his speech is courteous,to those whose manner doth deserve such speech; third, he protects theweak and defenceless, and doth not insult a helpless woman, as thouthis day hast done; fourth, he is possessed of a quality known by thename of honour, the which to brush against or attempt to stain meansdeath to the transgressor or himself; last, and yet first above allelse, he must be brave, and not submit to insult such as thou dostbear; and 'twould be death for one to strike a blow upon his cheek, asI now do to thee." And, suiting the action to the word, Harleston gavehim a stinging slap upon the ear that almost caused the other to dropupon his knees.

  My friend's judgment of the knave was right. He was, as all theseblackguards are, a coward through and through. A plenteous supply ofbluster had he, to be sure, and this he commenced to fling atHarleston. However, he got not far in his list of compliments; for myfriend, losing all patience with this blackguarding knave, took him bythe ear, that now was the colour of a fiery sunset, and, turning himabout, he placed his knee beneath his doublet tail and hurled him uponhis hands and knees among the legs and feet of the surging crowd about.I had never known Harleston to act thus before, and greatly was Isurprised to see him so ready to pick up a quarrel.

  When we left the crowd before the Church and continued on our way Ithought to find him still heated with his indignation. But in this Ihad again misjudged this man whose brain seemed balanced with such anexactness. He was as quiet and unruffled as though he had been buttalking with a priest about some books, of which he was most fond.

  "Strange," said he in musing tone, "that men so love to see theirfellows lowered. Why can they not mourn for their sorrows and exultwhen others do succeed? Instead of doing this, they glory in another'sfall, and when the downcast tries to regain his feet, cruel andremorseless blows are heaped upon his head, till the poor creature,hopeless of success, lies back there where he falls, among the quickand devouring sands of vice, or other misery. Still he sinks lower,and, as he disappears, the sands put on their faces of harmlessness andtempting beauty, to await another victim. And the cold world jeers atthe sufferer's dying struggles, and laughs, and he's soon forgot."

  "Why, my friend, thou art quite mournful," I remarked.

  "Nay, by my troth, mine heart was never lighter. Misunderstand me not.The picture that my mind now draws is sad, 'tis true. But verily do Itell thee, Bradley, mine eye enjoys the sight. What song is there sosweet as that which telleth to our hearts a tale of woe?"

  * * * * *

  Again doth Richard triumph. The ship sails quickly through the water,brushing aside the difficulties that would impede its progress.Gloucester steps o'er the rail and takes possession of the cargo.

  Thus, after the disgraceful scene in the Cathedral of St. Paul, whenDoctor Shaw preached his now notorious sermon on the bastardy of youngEdward and his brother, and after the Lord Mayor and the Duke ofBuckingham had wrung from a small gathering of London's citizens anunwilling consent to the crown being placed upon the head of Richard,instead of on our gentle, rightful, boyish King, Richard was crownedwith great pomp and ceremony, and ruled England as the rightful heir bybirth, whilst his young nephew lay within the Tower, uncrowned, a stainattempting to hang upon his name, and treated as a malefactor, whoshould have worn the diadem of England.

  Richard's court was now removed to Crosby Place, where the boarbedecked himself and his surroundings with all the gaudy finery, ofwhich he was so fond.

  Then whisperings began to circulate, to the effect that both of thelittle Princes (for the people all believed that little York was alsothere) had been murdered in the Tower. This tale, which soon becamegeneral court gossip, was never contradicted by the friends of our newKing Richard, and therefore it soon came to be believed about thecourt, from whence the people had it, and believed. Some said thatTyrrell, with an order from the usurping King, went to the Tower andtook full charge thereof for but one night. That with him went threeothers which, whilst the young Princes slept, smothered them to death.This was the version most generally believed, and, to my mind, itindeed seemeth a likely tale, in so far, of course, as it refers toyoung Edward; for well did my friend and I know that little York wasfar from London at that time; though whe
re he was we knew not. Wedreaded telling to the Queen this news, and therefore waited for sometime before we again visited the Sanctuary. When at length we did go,we were saved from again inflicting torture on this poor woman. LordStanley, who had been released from his imprisonment but a few daysprevious and now had been appointed to the office of Steward at thePalace, had been there before us and told the Queen the whole sad storyof how her son had, in the night, been murdered whilst he slept.

  This time the Queen was not resigned nor stupefied. Bold determinationand a hunger for revenge were imprinted on her features.

  When I look back to those harsh, cruel days of misery for that woman, Icompare her, in my mind, with those savage tribes which dwell in thatdistant land beyond the seas, discovered by that Genoese sailor. 'Twastold to me, by Cabot and his son, that they, when injured, show butlittle spleen; but with deliberation and the greatest care they plan,with wonderous skill, some grand invention that enables them to haverevenge in the most complete and properest of ways.

  Cold and deliberate was the ex-Queen, as she informed us that she hadsent her son, Dorset (which had returned, after leaving the little Dukeof York in a Sanctuary in France) with a letter to the Earl ofRichmond, who then resided, in exile, at the court of Brittany, askinghim to take up arms in her cause, and his own, and fight King Richard,with the crown of England as the stake.

  "I have decided on this course," said the ex-Queen, "because I realizethat my son, the Duke of York, may never rule so long as Richard lives.If Richmond doth accept mine offer, and if he wins the crown away fromthe murderous Usurper, then will I make him regent during the minorityof my little Richard. All this I have set forth distinctly in myletter to the Earl. I also promised him my daughter Elizabeth's handin marriage. Such offers, methinks, no sane man would refuse, unlesshe be a coward, which 'tis not possible for him to be. 'Tis true hebelongs to the Lancastrian party, which hath ever been our enemies;but, under the circumstances in which I now find myself placed, Icannot choose, but must accept that which is best for my poor son'swelfare. Therefore I have asked for Richmond's aid."

  "Madam," said Harleston, when Elizabeth had finished speaking, "I praythat thou wilt pardon the liberty I am about to take, in making aremark about thine own affairs. Mine excuse for doing so is that thou,madam, hast honoured me ere this by asking mine advice."

  "Speak out, Sir Frederick," said Elizabeth. "Well dost thou know thatno word of thine, intended for my help, will be considered asimpertinent."

  "Then, madam, I would ask if thou dost consider it as safe to thusinvite the Earl of Richmond to your aid? Dost thou not fear thathe--should he be successful--will claim the throne as his very own byright of conquest by the sword? 'Tis but a possibility, madam, butmethinks 'tis worthy of consideration."

  "But how could he claim the throne, having no right thereto?"

  "Richard hath taken it."

  "Ay, true, true, true!" wailed the poor Queen, as she walked about theroom, wringing her hands.

  "Dost thou not think, madam," continued Harleston, "that it would bebetter if thou wert to try and win over Buckingham to thy cause?"

  "He is the friend of Richard."

  "Ay, madam; but he is also ambitious. Two such men as he and theUsurper cannot for long agree. Richard must fear that some dayBuckingham's prestige with the people will be too great. No doubt somejealousy doth exist already. Have Lord Stanley, in thy behalf, offerto the Duke some noble inducement to bring him to thy side. Thepeople, indignant at the murder of thy son, could soon be tempted torevolt and make up a strong force; drive forth the Usurper from thethrone and place the crown upon the rightful head."

  "But how shall I prevent the Earl of Richmond from coming to mine aid,now that I have once invited him?"

  "Prevent him not, madam. He shall be of the greatest possibleassistance. He and your brother-in-law, the Duke of Buckingham, unitedshould face the boar; and then, when victory doth rest upon their arms,the Duke can hold the Earl in check."

  "A happy thought; I'll act upon it straight away. Ah! Sir Frederick,what should I do without thine ever sage advice? Pray God the timewill soon come when I can reward my friends, with more than thanks.When my son cometh to his own thou, Sir Frederick, shalt be hisCounsellor."

  This promise was doomed to never be fulfilled.

  [1] Harleston's knowledge of scripture was evidently not great. K.M.