It was night, and the Princess knelt at her _prie-dieu_ in her chamber
at the Wardrobe, and offered up thanks for the passing of this great
peril. And being a noble lady, and a woman of heart, she prayed for Fulk
Ferrers as well as for her son.
Fulk had been brought to her, and she had looked him in the eyes,
marvelling, and trying to put the bitterness out of her heart.
“Sir, we are your very great debtors.”
Fulk, though a young man, had felt her pride, her beauty, and her shame,
and had kissed her hands.
“Madame, if I have served, I have served. Let no man speak of it
hereafter, for I shall not.”
She had gazed at him questioningly.
“Can a man, and a young man, step down and forget so generously?”
“I shall keep faith,” and he had smiled; “but I may crave to rule a
company of ‘spears’ instead of a herd of deer.”
The Princess had given him the words of a great lady; but in the King’s
chamber the real King sat sullenly in his chair, frowning and biting his
thumbnail. With him were my Lords Salisbury and Warwick, and Sir Robert
Knollys—men who looked at the lad with stark scorn, because of the
paltry temper he was showing now that the peril was past. Shame had
bitten deep into him and left a poison in the wound. His heart was too
meagre to be magnanimous—a little, peevish, cunning heart that could
not humble itself and so be healed.
He started up suddenly, petulant, and full of spite.
“I’ll not see this fellow, this bastard. Let him keep out of my sight.”
Salisbury towered near him like an oak.
“Sir, this bastard, as you call him, has your sire’s blood in him. And
he has saved your kingdom.”
The lad was in a wild-cat mood, which served him for a sort of
mannerless courage.
“Old fool, am I to have this ruffler held up before me like the image of
a saint? Silence, I say I am King. I will play the King—aye, and better
than he has played it.”
They eyed him with disrelish.
“Let no man dare to speak his name to me or I will dub him traitor.”
“Never was there a more honourable traitor, sir, than this.”
“Am I the King? Am I to be obeyed? I will deal with this swashbuckler.”
Knollys’ heel was beating the ground.
“Sir King, have a care.”
“Sir, do you threaten?”
Knollys’ wrath and scorn burst like a thundercloud.
“Boy, I served your sire, who was a noble prince and a great captain.
Threaten! Let the truth threaten. This young man is your half-brother,
and, by my soul, he is ten times more the prince than you are!”
Richard’s rage was the rage of an ape.
“Treason, sir, you speak treason!”
“Treason! Who shall charge Knollys with treason? You—a thing that
cowered under its mother’s bed-quilt? By the splendour of God, all
Christendom shall know the truth if you seek to deal treacherously with
the man who has served you.”
Richard glanced at the faces of the two lords, but in their eyes he saw
the same words shining unspoken. Their eyes cowed him, and he began to
whimper.
“Sirs, will you drive me witless with shame?”
Knollys softened.
“Son of a great prince, follow your sire and all this shall be buried.
Let this shame be trodden under your feet. Play the King, and all men
shall hail you King and son of your father.”
Richard was cunning behind his cowering.
“But this Fulk Ferrers, what shall be done with him?”
Knollys’ wrath revived.
“Done with him? If there is a heart in you, sir, you will do deeds that
are noble. Fulk Ferrers can keep faith. Let him be honoured—in good
season. Let him have a coffer full of gold, knighthood, a company of
spears at his back, a pennon to carry. He will not cumber this kingship
of yours. The falcon flies where the quarry is to be stooped at.”
“What mean you, sir?”
“Are there not wars and great adventures in France and Spain? Are not
great knights and captains welcomed? This son of a prince will not wilt
on a doorstep.”
They left him alone in his chamber to think over their words, and went
below to a room that was used as a council chamber, and gathered the
King’s Council about the board. Other lords and knights, good men and
honourable, had been told the truth, swearing on the Cross to keep it
hidden. It was midnight, and they debated together, while Cavendish
slept across the door.
“What is to be done, sirs? This hawk cannot fly as he pleases.”
Walworth had a plan to offer, and he was as shrewd as any man in London.
“Gentlemen, suffer me. This young man has dealt valiantly with us; let
us deal valiantly with him. By the Lord Christ, I, for one, am ready to
dip into my coffers. Let him have arms and horses, and treasure—good
men, and a good ship. Let him sail into Spain or Portugal. Let us make
him a King of Adventure.”
The rest applauded. Salisbury took up the talking.
“You are a wise man, Walworth, and a generous, but the moment is urgent.
Two Kings in one house—tsst, it is too perilous! We must hide him
somewhere till the wind has fallen—he and this love of his, Isoult of
the Rose.”
“Whence comes she?”
“God knows. Half Breton, half English, I have heard it whispered.”
Knollys caught Walworth’s eyes.
“Walworth has a plan. Let him speak.”
“Sirs, in Surrey, there is the King’s Manor of the Black Mere—the house
set on an island in the midst of a goodly sheet of water, very solitary
and very safe. Let him go thither, riding by night, and lie hidden there
with a few men who can be trusted.”
“Aye, and let him grow a beard. It will cover up the kingliness.”
“There is much in a beard—a good lusty beard!”
“Then, when ’tis safe, we will launch this good falcon and his mate into
the Spanish skies.”
Knollys put in a last word.
“I and ten of my men will ride with them to the Black Mere. Can you give
us a guide, Sir Mayor?”
“Aye, one to be trusted.”
Knollys took a light and went above to a little room under the tiles,
where Fulk was lodged now that Richard the King was King again. Isoult
slept with the Princess’s women.
Knollys had to hammer lustily on the door, before Fulk, wrapped in his
surcoat, let him in.
“You sleep as well as you face a mob, my son. Shut the door. I have much
to say.”
“More rebels to fool?”
“No, a much grimmer business. The King’s Council has most solemnly
decreed that you shall grow a beard.”