BEFORE THE TOURNAMENT
Angry were the people with Richard for his savage murder of the young
and rightful King. Discontent and a proper desire to punish the
criminal for his act were discernible in the sullen manner in which the
Usurper was received where'er he went among them. Scowls, and not
resounding cheers, greeted him as he passed through the streets of
London, as was his almost daily habit.
Richard was not slow to comprehend the cause, and see what should be
the outcome, of this unpopularity, were it permitted to take a firmer
root in the minds of the people.
Some people, I know, contend that the best plan for killing discontent
and opposition is to notice them not and they, in time, will realize
their insignificance, and die by cold neglect. To me this seemeth but
a poor device for ridding one of that which doth torment him. Methinks
it is like the neglecting of a weed, in the hope that it will come to
be disheartened by reason of its lack of opposition and wither up and
die. To my poor way of thinking 'tis better, far, to remove the weed,
with all its roots intact.
Richard was evidently of the same way of thinking; for he at once
proceeded to remove this opposing growth, with all expediency.
Subsequent events shall show whether or no the roots came with the
stalk and leaves. To accomplish his purpose it was necessary for him
to please the people and gain their affection. The most easy and
direct way to do this was to, in some manner, contribute to their
happiness. In what way could this be so well accomplished as by
appealing to the warlike spirit of England, by holding a grand
tournament. Ever hath it been the custom of our country's rulers to
hold these martial gatherings whenever the good will of all classes is
desired. Richard was not slow to follow the example of his
predecessors. Therefore was it given out that our generous-hearted
Sovereign, to in some small way show his appreciation of the honour
done him by the people when they reposed the trust of England's crown
with him, would straight-way give the grandest exhibition of all forms
of war-like skill that ever England gazed with wondering eyes upon.
Catesby, who had been absent from court ever since the Usurper's
coronation, on some business of Richard's (for now he seemed to be to
Richard the properest man, though to all others a scoundrel) about this
time returned. For this, my dears, I was truly pleasured; for dearly
did I then desire an opportunity to be revenged on him for his insult
to Hazel. I was determined that nothing should now prevent our
meeting; for if he did not willingly enter for the contests I would
openly challenge him to fight, the which to refuse, as ye all do know,
would stamp him as a coward throughout all Christendom. This I knew
well he would not bear; for Catesby, no matter what his failings were,
was no physical coward.
Long seemed the time whilst we, with the spirit of impatience, were
waiting for the tournament.
Hazel and I planned and decided on my making some excuse and leaving
the court of Richard, so soon as the jousts should be ended. Settle
down we would and live in peace and quiet within our happy home, far
from the strife and intrigue of the court. 'Tis true I did not promise
to lay aside the sword and shield forever. On the contrary, faithfully
did I promise the ex-Queen to aid her party when the proper time
arrived. And, besides, I had an oath to be fulfilled.
No longer could I bear to serve the murderous tyrant, even for mine
ends. Indeed he treated me with great civility and some consideration.
Yet ever would there rise before my memory's eye the traitorous scene
at Stony Stratford. 'Twas when Richard smiled I feared him most.
Beware, my children, of a man who smileth on ye all too frequently.
Such men are seldom to be trusted. Never did I fall asleep without the
fear ahaunting me that I should never gaze upon the sun again; but that
the three which murdered our young King would rid our present ruler of
one which visited Elizabeth; for no hope of mine could be so sanguine
as to cause me to believe that I had thus far escaped Richard's
ever-watchful eye.
At length the day before the commencement of the tournament came
around, and knights and squires all were busy with the work of
preparation.
The place chosen by the King for the holding of the joust was just
beyond the city's gates, between London and Westminster, and in the
direction of the setting sun, that cast its fiery rays along the bosom
of the earth, that it might point out to each separate champion the
levelest spot for the pitching of his tent. Where'er the ground had
received a wound, and the scar remained, the King of Day, as he settled
down to rest, did paint the surrounding turf and leave a darker spot
upon the earth, to guide the warrior's servants from their putting up
his canvas house.
My friend and I both occupied the one tent, which was both high and
broad.
My faithful Michael, and our other servants, bustled about in
preparation for the morrow's work.
Pennons and streamers of England's noblest sons now floated on the
evening flower-scented breeze, which bore in its fairy arms the sounds
of the armourer's anvils, as the men worked, putting on some fine
completing touches. Some of these pleasant and familiar sounds were
worn to such a thinness as to scarcely have existence, they having
travelled from the far end of the field and, in their flight, visited
the ears of many knights and squires who, fond of this sweet martial
music, consumed a part each one. Others there were ranging in bodily
strength until they reached a rich, full ring, proceeding from before
our own tent door, where our armourers examined the suits given us by
the late King Edward, and which had never since been tested with the
lance.
The sun at length sank beneath the floor of earth, and the windows of
Heaven began to throw forth their each particular ray of light. As we
sat there, watching those far away, twinkling points, I could not
refrain from wondering why the Saints and Angels there all seem so busy
in the still night time; as can be seen by their passing and repassing
of the windows, in never ceasing numbers, each casting a fleeting
shadow as he goes. As the light on earth kept fading, more shades in
Heaven were drawn aback, as though the kindly folk up there would lend
to us more cheer.
Then the pale and trouble-featured moon raised up her hairless head
above the earth's surface, and slowly climbed she up the Heaven's arch.
As the sounds of the armourers and the grooms died out, the nightingale
did make his voice more plainly heard, as he hurled down, from his
perch beside the field, upon our ears, his darts of Heaven's own joy.
Aslanting did the music come, as borne by the gentle evening breeze it
fell, like April's rain, into our ears and drenched our hearts with
sweetness.
The wide-eyed frogs, far from the field, as they sat on their floating
thrones, flung, from their baggy throats, at the stars, as countless as
themselves, their quavering coward-challenges of battle. Yet no doubt
these were as well meant as some we should hear to-morrow.
The moon now stood well up the sky and therefore, when the flap was
closed a trifle, shone not far back into the tent.
The nightingale had ceased to sing.
The frogs still hurled their insolence.
Frederick and I, who had been in silence sitting for some time, arose
and walked back under our covering. Michael followed, and, when we had
laid down, stretched his huge frame across the opening. How like a
lifeless statue there he lay; his arms locked o'er his chest. 'Twas
seven feet of Hercules, as broad as two good men. Gazing at this
picture of strength and loyalty, the latter shown in his firm-cut,
honest face, with our shields beneath our heads, my friend and I sank
into sleep.