ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND
From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right.
If I am not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet.
SHAKSPEARE.
On the deck of the sea-worn Adalid, watching the renovated strength, and
attending on the still remaining weakness of her lord, the soft heart of
the princess possessed to fulness all its desires; while Monina, among
the wild rude Cornish rebels, exerted herself to inspire zeal for his
cause, and to increase the number of his partisans, winning them by her
thrilling eloquence, ruling them by her beauty and enthusiasm. She had
found the whole population ready to second him; but fitting leaders,
noble and influential men, were absolutely wanting. She sent her father
to urge Richard to this new attempt, and when he should appear,
attended, as she fondly hoped, by a train of high-born Irish lords, of
gallant Scotch cavaliers, and devoted English warriors; he would be able
to give a martial form to the rout of Cornish insurgents, to discipline
their wild, untamed valour, to attract others by name and rank, and
Tudor at last must grow pale upon his throne. With eagerness she awaited
the fleet that was to bring the chosen band of heroes; when, after a
long and calm voyage, on the third of September, the Adalid ran into
White Sand Bay, on the western coast of Cornwall, and Plantagenet, at
Richard's command, disembarked and proceeded forthwith to Bodmin.
It was strange that the chief partizan of the White Rose should, on his
invasion of the island, find a Spanish girl the main source of
information--the chief mover of the rebellion by which he was to
profit. Yet Plantagenet almost forgot his mortal struggle for a kingdom,
in the anticipation of seeing Monina. Plantagenet, prouder, more
ambitious for his cousin than Richard for himself--Plantagenet, who had
but one object, to be the guardian, supporter, defender of York, now
wandered in thought far back through many years to their Spanish home;
to his tenderness for the sweet child of Madeline; to the development of
the beauty and virtues of the lovely Moor. Thrown apart by their several
destinies, he had scarcely seen her since then; and now, in place of the
dark, laughing-eyed girl, he beheld a woman, bright with intelligence
and sensibility; whose brow wore somewhat the sad trace of suffering,
whose cheek was a little sunk, but in whose eyes there was a soul, in
whose smile an enchantment not to be resisted. She was all life,
vivacity, and yet softness: all passion, yet yielding and docile. Her
purpose was steady, stubborn; but the mode of its attainment, her
conduct, she easily permitted to be guided. Edmund scarcely recognized
her, but she instantly knew him; her elder brother, her kind but serious
guardian, whom she had loved with awe, as the wisest and best of men.
Now he bore a dearer name, as the unfailing friend of him she loved. To
both their hearts this meeting was an unexpected joy. Monina had thought
too much of Richard to remember his cousin. He had half forgotten his
own sensations; or, at least, was quite unprepared for the power and
effect of her surpassing beauty.
After the first overflowing of affection, Monina eagerly detailed the
forces raised, and dwelt on the spirit and courage of the insurgents.
"They are poor fellows," she said, "but true; burning with zeal to right
themselves, and to avenge their losses at Blackheath. They are gathered
together by thousands. They want merely leaders, discipline, arms,
money, ammunition, and a few regular troops to show them the way: these,
of course, you bring."
"Alas! no," said Edmund, "we bring merely ourselves."
"Could Ireland, then, furnish no warlike stores?" continued the zealous
girl, "But this can be remedied, doubtless. Yourself, your leader, Lord
Desmond, Lord Barry, the gallant Neville; tell me who else--who from
Burgundy--what Irish, what Scottish knights?"
The last word was said with difficulty: it made a pause in her rapid
utterance; while Edmund, aghast, replied, "Indeed! none of all these, or
very few: in a word, we have fled from Waterford in the Adalid. His
highness and myself are the sole English knights. The good old mayor of
Cork must represent all Ireland, gentle and simple, to your eyes--our
fair duchess, Scotland: her attendants will follow in due time, but
these are but needy servitors." Monina laughed. "We came to seek, not
bring aid," continued Plantagenet, gravely.
"Do not be angry," replied Monina. "There is more bitterness and sorrow
in my laugh, than in, methinks, a widow's tears. My dear friend, God
send we are not utterly lost. Yet his highness and yourself may work
wonders. Only report truly our state, that the duke be not too
dissatisfied with our appearance. Tell him Lord Audley headed a worse
organized troop: tell him that Master Heron, the mercer, has no silken
soul--that Master Skelton, the tailor, disdains a smaller needle than a
cloth-yard shaft."
"And is it to head men like these we have been drawn from our Irish
friends?" cried Edmund; "better return. Alas! our path is besieged; the
very sea is subject to our enemy; in the wide world the king of England
has no refuge."
"That he is king of England," said Monina, "let not him, let none of us
forget. The very name is powerful: let him, on his native shores, assume
it. Surely, if their liege king stand singly in the land of his
forefathers, at his sacred name thousands will congregate. He has dared
too little, when he had power: at the worst, even now, let him dare all,
and triumph."
Her bold, impetuous language had its effects on Edmund; it echoed his
own master passion, which ever cried aloud, "He is a king! and, once
give himself that sacred name, submission and allegiance from his
subjects must follow." Buoyed up by these thoughts, his report on board
the Adalid was free from those humiliating details, which, even if he
had wished, he would have found no voice to communicate to his royal
cousin.
Monina's task of imparting to her friends the destitute condition in
which their sovereign arrived, was even easier. "He is come among tall
men," said the pompous Heron, "who can uphold him for the better king,
even to the satin of his doublet."
"And fight for him, even to the rending of our own," cried Skelton.
"And die for him, as he must too, when all's done," said Trereife. "A
soldier's death is better than a dastard's life."
"We will have our men in goodly array," said Heron. "Master Skelton, are
the doublets cut from that piece of sad-coloured velvet, last of my
wares, slashed with white, as I directed?"
"Slash me no doublets but with a Spanish rapier," squeaked Skelton,
"Have I not cast away the shears? Yet, look you now, good lack! I lie.
Here in my pouch be a sharp pair, to clip Master Walter of Hornbeck's
ears--if, by the help of the saints, we can lay him as flat on the
field as his own grey suit was on my board when a shaping; by the same
token that he never paid for it."
"In good hour, Sir Taylor," said Monina: "but the talk now is, how duly
to receive his grace, how induce him to accept your aid."
"Ay, by Saint Dunstan!" cried Trereife, "he has ruffled in France and
Burgundy, my masters, and will look on you as clowns and base-born
burghers; but no man has more to give than his life, and if he waste
that heartily, time was, and time may be, when villains trod on the
necks of knights, as the ghost of Charles of Burgundy could tell us.
Courage is the beginning and end of a soldier's catechism."
Such were the chiefs Monina found desirous, and in their own conceit
capable, of placing England's diadem on Duke Richard's head. Heron, the
bankrupt mercer, who fancied himself the base-born offspring of the late
earl of Devonshire, and whose first deed of arms would find him Heron no
more, but Sir John Courtney; Skelton, a luckless wight, whose shears
ever went astray (the true cause why Walter of Hornbeck paid not for his
misshapen suit), and who, therefore, believed himself born for greater
things; and Trereife, the younger prodigal son of a rural Franklin, who,
cast off and disinherited, had served in the wars in Flanders, gaining
in that country no small reverence for the good Duchess Margaret, and
ready therefore to right her nephew; besides, like a true hero, he
abhorred this silken time of peace, and hoped to gather spoil, if not
laurels, in the meditated insurrection.
The noble passengers disembarked from the Adalid. "Welcome to England,
sweet Kate! welcome to the country of which thou art queen," said York;
"and even if her reception be cold or rough, love her for my sake, for
she is my mother."
"A stepmother I will not call her, dear my lord," replied the princess,
"but the maternal embrace is strangely wanting on these deserted sands:
the narrow deck of yonder caravel, were, methinks, a kindlier home: may
we go on and prosper; but, if we fail, my lord will pardon me, if I
welcome the day when I embark again on board the Adalid; to find, when
the wide earth proves false, safety and happiness on the free waves of
ocean."