They all, as glad as birds of joyous prime,
Thence led her forth, about her dancing round.--Spenser.
The bustle, the confusion, the clamour, the questions, and the
explanations that ensued, we shall leave the reader to imagine,
satisfied that his vivid fancy will do far more justice to such a
scene than our worn-out pen. When the bodies of Sir Payan Wileton and
his companion in death had been removed from the chamber of the king,
and some sand strewed upon the ground to cover the gory memories that
such deeds had left behind, order and tranquillity began to regain
their dominion.
"By my faith! a bloody morning's entertainment have we had," said
Francis. "But you are happy, my good brother of England, in having
traitors that will thus despatch each other, and cheat the headsman of
his due. However, from what I have gathered, Osborne Darnley, the
Knight of Burgundy, can no longer seem a traitor in the eyes of any
one."
"No, truly, my gracious lord," replied Wolsey, willing to pleasure the
King of France. "He stands freed from all spot or blemish, and well
deserves the kingly love of either noble monarch."
"'Slife! my good lord cardinal," cried Henry, "speak for yourself
alone! Now, I say, on my soul, he is still a most deep and egregious
traitor; not only, like that Sir Payan Wileton, in having planned his
treason, but in having executed it."
"Nay, how so?" cried Francis, startled at this new charge. "In what is
he a traitor now?"
"In having aided Francis King of France," replied Henry, smiling, "to
storm our castle of Guisnes, and take his liege lord and sovereign
prisoner."
"Oh! if that be the case," cried Francis, "I give him up to your royal
indignation; but still we have a boon to ask, which our gracious
brother will not refuse."
"Name it! name it!" exclaimed Henry. "By St. Mary! it shall go to pay
our ransom, whatever it be."
"You have in your court," replied Francis, "one Lady Constance de
Grey, who, though your born subject, is no less vassal to the crown of
France; owing homage for the counties of Boissy and the Val de Marne,
assured to your late subject the Lord de Grey by Charles the Eighth
when he gave him in marriage Constance Countess of Boissy, as a reward
for services rendered in Italy----"
"We see your object, oh most Christian king!" cried Henry, laughing.
"We see your object! What a messenger of Cupid are you! Well, have
your wish. We give her to your highness so to dispose of as you may
think fit; but at the same time claim Lord Osborne Darnley at your
hands, to punish according to his demerits. What say you? ha!"
"Agreed, agreed!" replied the King of France. "He waits me, as I said,
even now, in the corridor without, and doubtless thinks I sue for him
in vain. Those guards must have passed him in the corridor."
"No, no; they came the other way," said Henry. "Ho! without there!
Sergeant-at-arms, take four stout halberdiers, and, going into the
west corridor, attach me for high treason the Lord Osborne Darnley,
whom you will there find waiting. Hist! hear me, man! Use him with all
gentleness (we do but jest with him), and make some fair excuse to
shut him up in one of the chambers of the new palace, the nearer to
the great hall the better. Away! make speed! and above all return
quick, and let me know where you have put him; but take heed, and let
him not see that we mock him: haste! My good lord cardinal," he
continued, turning to Wolsey, "though it be an unmeet task for one of
your grave dignity to bear a message to a lady, yet on this day of
joy, when our good brother France comes here to greet us in brotherly
love, even wise men shall forget their seriousness and be as gay as
boys. Hie then, good Wolsey, to our lady queen. Tell her to call all
the fair flowers of England round about her in our great hall, to
welcome Francis of France, and that I will be there immediately upon
your steps."
The cardinal bowed low, and instantly obeyed; and Henry proceeded
in whispering consultation with Francis till the return of the
sergeant-at-arms; then turning to the worthy clothier, who, when he
found all the killing and slaying was over, had come out from behind
the arras to enjoy the air of royalty, "Come, good Jekin," cried
Henry, "now a task for thee. Hark, man!" and he whispered something to
honest Groby, who instantly replied, "Lord 'a mercy! yes, your grace!
I know Wilson Goldsmith well; I'll go to him directly; no trouble in
life. Lord! I guess how it's going to be. Well, I'm vastly glad, I do
declare. Lord 'a mercy! I hope your grace's worship will let me be
there!"
"Ay, man, ay!" cried the king; "make speed and come with him. Ho,
Snell! give me a gown of tissue; bid the guard be ready: we will cross
the green to the palace. Let the marshals be called to clear the way."
In a very few minutes all was prepared; and as the two kings were
descending the grand staircase of the castle, news was brought that a
band of French nobles, anxious for the safety of their king, had come
over from Ardres at all speed to seek him. Francis sent his commands
that they should dismount in the court; and on issuing out of the
castle, the monarch found a splendid party of the English and French
nobility mingled together, waiting to give them the good morrow.
"Ha, Alençon! what fear you, man?" cried the King of France. "We are
all safe. Sir Richard Heartley, look not for Lord Darnley; he is in
security: follow, and you will see him presently."
"Gentlemen all, you are most welcome," said Henry; "follow us, all
that love us, to our poor palace here without, and we will make you
better cheer, where ladies' words shall replace this summer air, and
their sweet looks the sunshine. Sound 'On before!'"
The trumpets sounded, and, the ushers and marshals clearing the way
for the two kings, they passed out of the castle gate, and traversed
the green on foot, amidst the shouts and acclamations of the crowd
that the arrival of the French nobles, together with various rumours
of something extraordinary having happened, had collected in the
neighbourhood of the royal lodging.
Arm-in-arm with Francis, Henry, delighting with ostentatious
magnificence to show himself to the people, passed round to the front
of the palace; and entering the court which we have already described,
he proceeded at once to the great hall, called the Hall of the Cloth
of Silver, to which, on the announcement of his intentions by Wolsey,
the queen had hastily summoned all the elect of the court. On the
entrance of the kings, with all the train of noblemen who had followed
them, a temporary confusion ensued, while Francis was presented to the
Queen of England, and Henry whispered to her a few brief hints of what
had taken place.
"Room, room, lords and ladies!" cried he at length; "let us have
space."
"There would not be space enough for him in the world, if he had his
will," whispered Lady Katrine Bulmer to Constance de Grey, who stood
by her side, unwillingly appearing in such a meeting. "On my life,
Constance, his eye is fixed upon us! Now, what would I give to be
king, if it were but to outstare him!"
"The Lady Constance de Grey!" said Henry, in a loud tone: "we would
speak with the Lady de Grey."
"Nay, speak gently," said the queen. "Good my lord, you will frighten
her. Constance, come hither to the queen, your friend!"
With a pale cheek and a beating heart, Constance advanced to the side
of the queen, and bending her eyes upon the ground, awaited in
silence, not daring to look around.
"Fear not, fair one!" said Henry; "we are not angry, but only sorry to
lose you. Here is our noble brother, Francis of France, claims you as
his vassal at our hands." Constance looked up, and saw the King of
France's eye bent on her with a smile that gave her courage. "Now,
notwithstanding the great love we bear him," continued Henry, "we
might have resisted his demand, inasmuch as you are our born subject,
had you not shown some slight perverseness against our repeated
commands. We therefore must and will resign you into his hands, unless
you instantly agree to receive such lord to be your husband as we
shall judge fitting for your rank and station."
"Oh, no, no, my lord!" cried Constance, clasping her hands, and
forgetting, in her fear of fresh persecution, the crowd by which she
was surrounded. "Force me not, I beseech your grace, to wed against my
will."
"You see," said Henry, turning to the King of France; "you see the
lady is headstrong! Take her, my good brother; I give her up to you.
There, sweetheart, is your lord and sovereign; see if you can obey him
better."
Francis took the fair girl by the hand, and bending down his head,
said in a kindly tone, "Lady, fear not. Lift up your eyes, and tell me
if there is one in all this circle you would make your choice."
"No, indeed, my lord," faltered forth Constance, without looking
round; "all I ask is to be left in peace."
"If you have ever seen any one to whom you could give your heart, tell
me," said Francis. Constance was silent. "Then I am to judge that you
have not," continued the king; "so I will choose for you."
Constance raised her eyes with a supplicating look; but Francis's face
was turned towards Henry, who, with a laughing glance, had taken the
queen by the hand, and was leading her towards one of the doors.
"Come, we must follow," cried Francis. "Lord cardinal, we shall need
your company."
Constance gazed round with doubt and apprehension; but Francis led her
forward immediately after the King and Queen of England, whispering,
as they went, "Fear not, sweet lady! you are with a friend who knows
all."
The whole court followed along one of the splendid galleries of the
palace, preceded by Henry and Katherine, who stopped, however, before
a door, from before which a page held back the hangings, and "Here,"
said the King of England, putting a key into Francis's hand, "here you
take precedence. This is the cage, and here is the fetter-maker,"
pointing to a respectable-looking merchant in a long furred robe who
stood with Jekin Groby in a niche hard by.
More and more confused, not knowing what to fear or what to believe,
the very uncertainty made Constance's heart sink more than actual
danger would have done; but still the King of France led her forward,
even before Queen Katherine, and, putting the key in the lock, threw
open the door, and drew her gently in, when the first object that met
her sight was Osborne Darnley, with his arms folded on his breast,
standing before the high altar of a splendid chapel. Her heart beat;
her eyes grew dim; her brain reeled; and she would have fallen
fainting to the ground, but Darnley started forward and clasped her to
his heart.
"Nay, nay, this is too much!" cried the queen, advancing; "see, the
poor girl faints! My good lord, indeed this must not be to-day. It has
been too much for her already. Some day before the two courts part we
will pray my good lord cardinal to speak a blessing on their love.
Bear her into the sacristy, Sir Osborne. Katrine Bulmer, giddy
namesake! help your friend, while I pray their graces both to return
into the hall."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: One of those rare but pleasant little towns which are
fortunate enough to stand upon no high-road, but which, on looking
into Cary's Itinerary, will be found to have a way of their own. It is
near Ashford.]
[Footnote 2: This sentence, I am inclined to think, deserves another
inverted comma to denote that it is borrowed from some of the writers
of that day. I forget from whom.]
[Footnote 3: A maker of arrows was so called when the good strong bow
was the weapon of the English yeoman.]
[Footnote 4: A maker of arrows.]
[Footnote 5: Armour and trappings of his horse.]
[Footnote 6: It will be found in the description of Britain by
Holingshed, that even in his days it was held that any man possessing
land producing an annual rent of forty pounds (called a knight's fee)
could be called upon to undergo the honour of knighthood, or to submit
to a fine. This was sometimes enforced, and the consequence was often
what Lady Katrine insinuated, as few of the more powerful nobles of
the day did not entertain more than one poor knight in their service.
These, however, were looked upon in a very different light from those
whose knighthood had been obtained by military service.]
[Footnote 7: The road from the Temple Bar to the City of Westminster
was flanked on one side by noblemen's houses and gardens, producing an
effect not unlike that of Kensington Gore; as far, at least, as we can
judge from description.]
[Footnote 8: Every knight of that day had his soubriquet, or nickname;
thus the famous Bayard was generally called Piquet.]
[Footnote 9: Since writing the above, I have seen a beautiful sketch
by Sir Walter Scott, of a scene very similar. The coincidence of even
the minute points is striking; but I know that Sir Walter, and I trust
the public also, will believe me, when I pledge my word that the whole
of this book was written before I ever saw "My Aunt Margaret's
Mirror," and, I believe, before it was published.]
[Footnote 10: Alluding to the vision of Fair Geraldine, called up in a
mirror at the request of Lord Surrey.]
[Footnote 11: I have not been able to discover at what precise period
the custom of exacting a ransom from each prisoner taken in battle was
dropped in Europe. It certainly still existed in the reign of
Elizabeth, and perhaps still later, for Shakspere (writing in the days
of James I.) makes repeated mention of it. Some centuries before the
period of this tale, Edward the Black Prince fixed the ransom of Du
Guesclin at one hundred francs, which the constable considered
degrading, and rated himself at the sum of seventy thousand florins of
gold.]
[Footnote 12: A suit of horse armour and housings.]
[Footnote 13: We have every reason to believe that this adventure is
by no means the invention of Vonderbrugius, but a simple historical
fact.]
[Footnote 14: Hall gives an account of this event, with very little
variation in the circumstances, stating that only a footman was with
the king, one Moody; but, of course, Vonderbrugius may be relied on as
the most correct.]
[Footnote 15: It stood nearly where Westminster Bridge stands at
present.]
[Footnote 16: This circumstance is generally placed by the French
anecdotarians some ten days later; but weconceive that the precision
of a Dutchman is to be relied on in preference.]
[Footnote 17: We cannot help calling attention to the scrupulous
accuracy of Vonderbrugius. Supposing that he might, in some fit of
unwonted imaginativeness have invented this circumstance, we searched
through many tomes for confirmation, when we at last found the whole
story alluded to in the exact Montluc; which, though it leaves the
Dutchman no other merit than that of a compiler, justifies implicit
belief in every part of this surprising history.]
[Footnote 18: The original words of Francis were, _Ma lance contre un
écu d'Espagne_; _écu_ meaning either a shield or a crown-piece.]
THE END.
WOODFALL AND KINDER, PRINTERS, LONG ACRE, LONDON.