attendants were alarmed by loud cries from the royal chamber. They
hastened to the door, but it was bolted, and their apprehensions for
that time were allayed by the voice of the priest assuring them that
the king was safe, but that an ugly dream had awakened him. Lincoln,
whom this tumult had quickly brought to the spot, retired grumbling at
so unseasonable a disturbance. Scarcely had an hour elapsed ere the
cries were repeated. Unsheathing his sword, the proud Earl of Lincoln
marched angrily to the door, and swore a loud broad oath that he would
see the king or burst open the barrier. With him came others from the
rooms overhead, so that the priest was forced, however unwillingly, to
open the door, and Lincoln, accompanied by his friends, beheld the
young pretender in bed, pale, and with a rueful countenance, still
retaining the traces of some deadly horror.
"What hath disturbed your highness? We would fain know the cause of
this alarm, and punish, ay punish home, the traitor!" said Lincoln,
darting a furious look at the confessor, to whom he bore no good-will.
"Nay, friends, I shall--I shall be well presently. I beseech you be
not disturbed. 'Tis a dream,--a vision that hath troubled me. I
thought I was in the Tower--in my prison chamber--and the tyrant came
and grasped me by the throat. With that I jumped up, and as Heaven is
my witness, I saw a dark figure slip through the floor by yon grim
buttress, behind which is the private staircase to the summit."
Every eye was turned towards the corner of the chamber near the bed,
on the outside of which a winding staircase ran up from below, but
they were ignorant of any communication from these stairs into the
king's chamber. Lincoln examined the buttress with his sword, and
Swartz, the Fleming, with his fingers, but there was no apparent
opening or crevice that could betoken any outlet or concealment. The
floor was examined, and with the same result; so that they were fain
to depart, little doubting that the whole was the effect of some
mental disturbance.
With the morning dawn came Sir Thomas Broughton. A grand council was
appointed for that day, in which the final arrangement of their plans
was to be discussed. A royal banquet was prepared, and the Flemish
gunners were to give a specimen of their craft from the battlements.
The forenoon came on chill and squally, with a low scud driving
rapidly from the west. A drizzling rain was the result, which
increased with the coming tide.
The little island was covered with tents, forming an encampment of no
mean extent and appearance.
Sir Thomas, with a few attendants, after being ferried over the
channel which separates the island of Fouldrey from the mainland, was
conducted through avenues of tents and armed men. The Flemish
soldiers, fierce and almost motionless, looked like an array of grim
statues. The Irish levies, in a state of more lax discipline, were
collected in merry groups, whiling away the time in thriftless and
noisy discourse.
Sir Thomas Broughton, descended from an Anglo-Saxon family of great
antiquity, was by virtue of this hereditary and aboriginal descent, of
a proud and pompous bearing. Being allied to most of the principal
families in these parts, he was won over by solicitation from the
Duchess of Burgundy, as one of the confederates in her attempt to
restore the line of York to the English crown. Fond of show, and
careful as to his own personal appearance, he was clad in a steel coat
of great beauty; this ponderous form of defence having been brought to
great perfection in the preceding reign. His sword-belt was so
disposed that the weapon remained in front, while a dagger was
attached to the right hip. Over his armour he wore a scarlet cloak,
and as he strode proudly up the avenues to the gate, he looked as
though he felt that on his fiat alone depended the very existence of
those he beheld. After he had passed the first drawbridge into the
outer court or bayle, a band of archers, drawn up in full array,
opened their ranks to receive this puissant chieftain. These were the
most efficient of the troops, and partly English, having been brought
from Ireland by the deputy. They were clad in shirts of chain mail,
with wide sleeves, over which was a small vest of red cloth, laced in
front. They had tight hose on their legs, and braces on their left
arms. Behind them, and on each side, were part of the infantry,
consisting of billmen and halberdiers; but the most formidable-looking
soldiers were the Flemish gunners, or harquebusiers, so named from the
barbarous Latin word _arcusbusus_, evidently derived from the Italian
_arcabouza_--_i.e._, a bow with a tube or hole. It was made with a
stock and trigger, in imitation of the crossbow. The match, no longer
applied by the hand to the touchhole, was fixed into a cock, which was
brought down to the pan by the motion of the trigger. This being at
the time a recent invention, excited no little curiosity and
admiration.
At the inner court, and near the main entrance to the keep, Sir Thomas
was received in great state by the Earl of Lincoln, whose high, but
easy and pleasant bearing, bespoke him to have been long the inmate
and follower of courts, while the stiff attitudes and formal demeanour
of Sir Thomas were rendered more apparent by the contrast.
"Welcome, Sir Thomas, to our court in this fair haven. Your presence,
like your fidelity, hath a goodly savour in it, being always before
and better than our expectation or our fears. How faireth our cousin,
and our pretty dames in Furness?"
"My lord, I thank you for your good word. My poor services are repaid
tenfold in their acceptance by the king," said Sir Thomas, bending,
but with an ill grace, by reason of little use in that excellent art.
"Into our council-chamber, Sir Thomas, where you shall render homage
to the king in person."
This council-chamber was none other than the king's bedroom, whither,
with great ceremony, Sir Thomas was conducted. In this mimic court
there was a marvellous show of ceremony, and a great observance of,
and attention to, forms and royal usages--ridiculous enough where a
few acres formed the whole of the monarch's territory, and an ugly
ill-contrived castle his palace. But his followers behaved as though
England's sovereignty were theirs, being well inclined to content
themselves with the shadow, having little hold or enjoyment of the
substance.
Before a long narrow table, near the bed, and on a high-backed oaken
chair, sat the young pretender. He was dressed in a richly-embroidered
gown, the sleeves wide, and hanging down from the wrists like lappets.
On his head was a low cap surmounted by long waving feathers, and his
manners and appearance were not devoid of grace and gentility. He
displayed considerable self-possession, and wore his kingly honours
with great assurance. He was of a fair and sanguine complexion, pale
rather than clear, and his hair clustered in heavy ringlets on his
shoulders. A rapid and somewhat uncertain motion of the eye, and his
mouth not well closed, showed that although he might have been
schooled to the exhibition, and could wear the outward show of
firmness and decision, yet in the hour of emergency, and in the day of
trial, his fortitude would in all likelihood forsake him.
At his right hand sat the priest in a white cassock and scapulary. A
black hood, thrown back upon his shoulders, exhibited the form and
disposition of his head to great advantage. His features were large,
expressive, and commanding. The fire of a brilliant grey eye was
scarcely tempered by his overhanging brows, though at times the spirit
seemed to retire behind their grim shadows, to survey more securely
and unobservedly the aspect and appearances without.
Swartz, the Flemish general, a blunt military chieftain, was at his
side. A black bushy beard, some inches in advance of his honest
good-humoured face, was placed in strong contrast with the wary, pale,
and somewhat dubious aspect of the priest.
Kildare, the Irish deputy, and Lovel, with several of the senior
officers and captains, were assembled round the table.
The room was lofty, lighted by a small pointed window, and contained
the luxury of a fireplace, in which lay some blazing embers; a
grateful and refreshing sight in that chill and ungenial atmosphere.
The needful ceremonies being gone through, Sir Thomas was honoured
with a place at the board near to where it rested against the buttress
before mentioned, the priest addressing him as follows:--
"My Lord Abbot of Furness, Sir Thomas, what news of him? Hath he yet
signified his adherence to our cause? We hope you bring tidings of
such auspicious import."
"He doth yet procrastinate, I hear, until he have news from the
court," replied Sir Thomas; "yet I trust his want of zeal and
obedience will not hinder our march."
"And the proud nobles of Lancashire, how stand they affected towards
our good prospering?"
"Truly, they are, as one may say, neither cold nor hot; but of a
moderate temperature, midway, it would seem"----
"Which is an indication of neither zeal nor obedience," said Swartz,
suddenly cutting short the tedious verbosity of Sir Thomas's intended
harangue. "Open enemies before lukewarm friends!"
"Prithee, general," said the priest, with a placid smile, during which
his eyes seemed to shrink within their dim sockets, "be not
over-hasty. We cannot reasonably hope that they should flock to our
standard almost ere we unfurl it for their gathering."
"Your speech hath a reasonable property in it," replied Sir Thomas,
"and, as we may say, savoureth of great judgment, which, being of an
excellent nature in itself, doth thereby control and exercise, in its
own capacity, the nature and excellence of all others."
This formidable issue of words was delivered with much earnestness of
enunciation; but of its use or meaning, probably, the speaker was
fully as ignorant as his hearers. Even at the fountain-head his ideas
were sufficiently obscure, but when fairly rolling forth from the
spring, they sometimes begat such a froth and turbidity in their
course, that no reasonable discernment could fathom their depth or
bearing.
A short silence was the result, which none, for a while, cared to
disturb, lest he should betray his lack of understanding in dark
sentences.
"We know your loyalty," said the king, "which hath a sufficient
impress on it to pass current without scrutiny. Your example, Sir
Thomas, will be of competent weight, without the casting or imposition
of vain words into the scale. We acknowledge your ready zeal in our
just cause."
"Your highness' grace, my liege," said Lincoln, ere Sir Thomas could
gather words for a fitting reply, "doth honey your confections well.
Men swallow them without wincing or wry faces."
Sir Thomas would not thus be deprived of his right to a reply; and was
just commencing with a suitable attitude for the purpose, when lo! the
trenchant knight, who sat on a small stool beside the corner buttress,
with a loud cry, suddenly disappeared, and a gaping cavity in the
floor sufficiently accounted for the precipitate mode of his
departure. Uprising on the ruins of Sir Thomas, started forth a
grotesque figure from the chasm, clad in coarse attire, a ludicrous
solemnity on his strange and uncouth visage, as, with a shrill and
squeaking tone, he cried--
"Ay, ay, masters; but my master will gi'e me a blessing for the
finding o' this mouse-nest; and a priest's blessin' is worth a king's
curse any time; and so good-morrow, knaves."
"Stay," said Lincoln, seizing the intruder, none other than our
light-witted acquaintance, "lang-nebbit Dick," whose prying
propensities were notorious, and who had taken upon himself, that
morning, the arduous task of exploring the subterraneous passage into
which he had seen the mysterious figure insinuate itself. After many
perils and impediments, he had come to a flight of steps, ascending
which, his progress was interrupted by a trap-door overhead. He soon
discovered a wooden bolt, the unloosing of which led to the
precipitation of Sir Thomas through the aperture. Dick's light was
struck from his hand; escaping himself, however, he left Sir Thomas to
his fate, and emerged, as we have seen, into the council-chamber. They
were much alarmed by this unexpected disturbance, and, looking down,
they beheld a narrow flight of steps, at the bottom of which lay the
unfortunate knight, sore bruised by his fall.
"If the abbot catch ye here," said Dick, with a vacant grin, "he'll
gi'e every one o' ye a taste o' the gyves, and so pray ye gang awa',
and let me gang too. As for that calf beastie, that baas so at the
bottom, gi'e me a groat, and I'll gather him up again sune."
Here Dick held out a paw that would not have disgraced the extremities
of a bruin for size and colour.
"Holloa, guards," cried Lincoln, "take this knave to the dungeon by
the porch, and keep him safe until we have need of him."
The prying vagabond was removed without ceremony, kicking all the way,
and bellowing out threats and vengeance against his enemies, while Sir
Thomas and his bruises were brought to light.
"'Tis the good hand of Providence that hath revealed to us, through
the means of this crack-brained intruder, so dangerous an outlet by
which our sovereign's life might have been brought into jeopardy. To
show unto us that He works not by might nor by strength, does Heaven
employ the feeblest instruments for our ruin or our deliverance." The
priest, after this profane speech, resumed his station at the board,
whence the king, with a proper and becoming dignity, had not arisen.
But the council did not proceed in their deliberations after this
interruption. Contenting themselves with devising precautions against
another surprise, they separated, hoping that to-morrow would bring
them despatches from abroad, for which they began to feel somewhat
anxious and impatient.
The sun was now some hours past meridian. The broad sea and the
breakers were foaming on. A wide and impetuous phalanx of waves
appeared upon the horizon. Gouts of muddy foam were beginning to
froth among the blue pebbles on the beach. The tide was rapidly
filling the channels, and patches of dark sand were vanishing beneath
the waves, when the two fishermen, launching their little boat into a
narrow bay between the rocks, prepared for their daily toil.
"Lords o' the court they be," said David, to some inquiry from his
more ignorant companion, as he generally affected to consider him.
Indeed, with but little wit and less valour, he wished to foist
himself upon one possessing both, as a being of extraordinary wisdom
and fortitude. And truly, if loud words and big lies could have done
this, he would have had no lack either of courage or discretion.
"Didst never see a lord to his shirt?" continued this indomitable
boaster.
"Nea, marry, but I've seen 'em to their shifts, for one of 'em couldna
loup owre t' stones here without help."
"Help thy silly face, thou be'st hardly company fit for they 'at have
seen knowledge, as 't waur, to its verra nakedness. I tell thee I've
looked on lords' flesh; an' no more like thine than thee be'st like
fish."
"Some of 'em will cudgel thy leesing out o' thee, I hope. Thou
could'stna speak truth to save thy neck fro' the rope. Didst get any
o' the crumbs at the dinner to-day? for I ken thou throw'd up thy
greasy cap, and cried out 'Hurrah for the king.' Thy tongue would ever
wag faster at a feast than thy fist at a fray."
"I tell thee, George, 'ware thy gibes an' gallimaufreys. A man can but
bear what he can, thee knows; an' so stop thy din. Let me see, I heard
as I cam' doon that this same ghost 'at frightened thee sae appeared
to the king an' the lords at the feast; an' they waur fain to run for
it, as thee did last night, thee knows, for verra fearsomeness,
an'"----
Here he looked round, as though fearing a visit of the like nature.
"They say he came an' gobbled up more nor his share; an' he sent the
guests a-packing like a bream of short-sized kippers from a creel. We
looked for our share of the victuals, but they told me old
bl--bl"----Again he hesitated, evidently afraid that some "unsonsy"
thing was behind him. His voice sunk down to a tremulous whisper.
"They said that old split-feet brought a whole bevy of little
devilkins with him that cleared decks in the twinkling of a
bowsprit."
"And yet thou durst not say him nay, though thy craw were as empty as
my basket. Come, bear a hand, or we shall lose the tide; it is already
on the rocks."
The invading fleet were still moored in the harbour, yet the fishermen
shot past unheeded by these leviathans of the deep. As they came
nearer to the opposite shore, they saw an individual making signals,
as though he would be taken across. His monkish garb was a passport to
their obedience; and the friar was received on board with great
reverence and respect. With a sullen air he demanded, rather than
requested, to be conveyed to the castle, which the simple fishermen
undertook with great alacrity and good humour. Left to the care of the
guards below the ramparts, he was speedily forwarded through ranks of
iron men, and the barriers flew open at his presence; an embassage
from the abbot of Furness was not to be lightly entreated.
Again was there a summons that the council should assemble, and the
chiefs, already risen from the banquet, prepared to give him audience.
With a proud and firm step he approached the table; and though, from
habit, he repressed the natural feelings and bias of the temper, yet
there was an evident expression of hostility against the intruders,
accompanied with a glance of unequivocal meaning towards their
sovereign.
Simon, rising to receive this ambassador from the abbot, watched his
demeanour with a cautious and keen observance, though betraying little
of that really intense interest with which his presence was regarded.
"Thrice welcome!" he cried; "we hail your presence as an omen of good
import. How fareth my lord abbot, whom we hope to number with our
friends in this glorious cause?"
"The abbot of Furness hath no message of that similitude. He doth ask
by what right, privity, or pretence, ye appear within his castle or
stronghold upon this island? upon whose advice or incitement ye have
thus taken possession? and furthermore, under whose authority ye do
these things?"
This short address, uttered in a firm voice, and in a tone of menace
rather than inquiry, daunted the hearers, who had hoped for a more
propitious message from the abbey of Furness. Simon, however, without
betraying his chagrin, unhesitatingly replied--
"The right by which we hold this fortress is the will of our king, and
our authority is from him."
"I crave your honest regards," returned the monk, looking round with a
glance of conscious power and superiority; "this good inheritance is
ours, and whosoever disporteth himself here must answer for it to the
lord of Furness, whose delegate and representative I am."
Choler was rising in the assembly; but Simon, with that intuitive and
inexplicable control which superior minds possess, almost unknowingly,
over their associates, quelled the outburst of the flame by a single
glance. Another look was directed to the royal pupil at his side, when
the latter spoke as follows:--
"Our presence here, it should seem, is a sufficient answer to the
questions of our lord abbot. Being lawful heir to the English crown,
we might command the allegiance, if not the homage, of your head; but
we would rather win with fair entreaty than command our unwilling
subjects, and to this end have we sent messengers to the superior of
your house, urging his help and submission."
This reply was given with a dignity and an assurance denoting that
either he was the individual he personated, or that he had been well
schooled in his craft.
A murmur of applause was heard through the assembly, but the monk was
unmoved to any show of recognition or even respect. Waiting until he
could be heard, the envoy again inquired--
"And who art thou? and by what pretence claimest thou this right?"
"By hereditary descent. Knowest thou Edward, Earl of Warwick, now thy
king?"
"I have heard of him," continued the monk in the same dubious and
inflexible tone; "but his bodily appearance hath not been vouchsafed
unto me."
"See him here!" said the royal claimant, rising with great majesty and
condescension. But the churchman neither did homage, nor in any way
testified his loyalty to, or apprehension of, so exalted a personage.
"Truly it is a marvellous thing," replied he, "that the Earl of
Warwick should so order his appearance, at one and the same time, both
in London and at our good fortress here in Fouldrey!" A slight curl of
the lip was visible as he spoke.
"The Earl of Warwick," said Simon, "cannot now be abiding where thou
sayest, insomuch as the bodily tabernacle, his dwelling in the flesh,
is before thee."
"But we have a messenger from thence, even with a writing from the
hands of the holy prior of St Alban's, who sendeth us the news, lest
we should be beguiled. Father Anselm hath seen the earl, who was
brought forth from the Tower by command of the king, being conducted
publicly through the principal thoroughfares of the city, that the
people should behold, and not in any wise be led astray through the
evil reports and machinations of the king's enemies."
Here he paused, folding his arms with a haughty and reserved look; but
Simon, no wise disconcerted by this terrible, unexpected, and
apparently fatal exposure of their plot, replied with a smile of the
most intrepid assurance----
"We knew of this, and were prepared for the wiles of the usurper. Know
then, that, through the agency and good offices of that renowned
princess, Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, the king's escape from the
Tower was accomplished; but not by might, nor by human power nor
device, but by faith and prayer, was the work wrought out, which holy
communion her enemies do maliciously report as the practice of sorcery
and the forbidden art. Howbeit the king hath escaped, as thou seest,
the fangs of the executioner. Stay, I perceive what thou wouldest urge
in reply, but listen for a short space. In order to deter them from
pursuit on finding his escape, and with a view likewise to lull them
into vain confidence and carnal security, another was left in his
place, whom they, of necessity, imagine to be their captive; but it is
not a real thing of flesh and blood, though to them it may so appear.
When his time shall be accomplished, the form will vanish, to the
downfall and confusion of the usurper and the utter overthrow of our
enemies."
Here the assembly gave a loud and unanimous token of their exultation
by shouts and exclamations of loyalty and obedience.
After a short reverie, the monk replied--
"We know of a surety that the Princess Margaret, as well as her royal
brother, Edward the Fourth, did use to practise in forbidden arts; but
we must have testimony indisputable to the truth of your claim, ere it
be that we render our belief. Surely the power that wrought thy
deliverance would not, if need were, leave thee without the means of
proving thine identity. How know we that thou art he whom thou hast
represented, and not the impostor Simnel, as thine enemies do not
scruple openly to affirm?"
"We are not without either the means or the power to prove and to
assert our right," said the priest, rising. He drew a phial from his
bosom.
"One drop of this precious elixir," continued he, "if it touch the
form of yon changeling, will dissolve the charm: on the real person of
the king it becomes harmless."
"Truly, 'tis a proof not to be gainsaid; but over-long i' the making,
and too far for the fetching," replied the monk scornfully.
"'Tis bootless to attempt the salvation of those who will not believe:
nevertheless, they shall perish through their own devices, and be
caught in their own snares."
Simon threw a threatening glance at the monk, which he received with a
cool and undaunted aspect.
"Verily, your blood be on your own heads," cried Simon, with a loud
voice, "and your reward in your right hand. Behold, thou scourner, and
tremble; for your destruction cometh as a whirlwind, and he in whom
you trust shall be as the stubble which the fire devoureth."
The enthusiast, as he spoke, struck a heavy blow on the floor with his
foot, when there came a low rumbling sound like the roar of the wind
through some subterraneous abyss, or the distant moan of the sea,
driven on by the rushing tempest. The whole assembly stood aghast,
save the king and the two disputants.
"Shall I strike once more?"
"Do as seemeth to thee good," said the monk deliberately; "but think
not to intimidate me with thy fooleries."
"Then beware. I obey, but it is with awe and reluctance."
It is said that Simon's heart failed him as he gave the blow, or the
effects would have been more terrific. But the castle shook as with an
earthquake; even the incredulous monk looked amazed and confounded.