THE CHARGES.
"We shall see, my good lord, we shall see," said Henry V. to the Earl
of Stafford as he stood surrounded by his court in the hall of the old
castle of Blangy. "I have, it is true, learned sad lessons, that those
we most trust are often the least worthy.--Nay, let me not say
'often,' but rather, sometimes; and yet," he added, after a pause,
"perhaps I am wrong there, too; for it has not happened to me in life,
that one, of whom I have had no misgivings, has proved false.--May it
never happen. Those, indeed, of whom I would not believe the strange
and instinctive doubts which sometimes, from a mere look or tone,
creep into the heart--those whom I have trusted against my spirit, may
have, indeed, betrayed me; but there is something in plain
straightforward honesty that may not always suit a monarch's humour,
but which cannot well be suspected--and besides--but it matters not.
We shall see."
It was evident to all, that his thoughts turned to that dark
conspiracy against his throne and life, which had been detected and
punished at Southampton; and as every one knew it was a painful and a
dangerous subject with the King--the only one, indeed, that ever moved
him to a hasty burst of passion, all were silent; and while the King
still bent his eyes to the ground in meditation, Sir William Porter,
afterwards raised to the then high office of grand carver, entered and
approached his Sovereign.
"The prisoner is without, royal Sir," he said.
"Let him come in," answered Henry; and raising his face towards the
door, he regarded Woodville as he walked forward, followed by Sir
Henry Dacre, with that fixed unwavering glance that was peculiar to
him. His eyelids did not wink, not the slightest movement of the lips
or nostril could be observed by those nearest him; but the light of
his eye fell calm and grave upon the young knight, like the beams of a
wintry sun.
The demeanour of Woodville was not less like himself. With a rapid
step, firm and free, with his broad chest expanded, his brow serene
but thoughtful, and with his eyes raised to the monarch without
looking to the right or left, he advanced till he was within two steps
of Henry, and then bowed his head with an air of calm respect. He was
quite silent, however, till the King spoke.
"You have asked to be admitted to our presence, Sir Richard of
Woodville," said the King; "and, according to the tenour of a promise
once made, we have granted your request. What have you to say to the
charges made against you?"
"I know not what they are, my Liege," replied Woodville; "but,
whatever they may be, if they lay to my account aught of disloyalty to
you, I say that they are false."
"And have you heard nothing?" asked the King, in a tone of surprise;
"has no one told you?"
"He would not hear me, Sire," said Dacre, stepping forward. "He said
he would meet them unprepared in your own presence."
"It is well," rejoined Henry; "then you shall hear them from my lips,
sir knight; and God grant you clear yourself; for none wishes it more
than I do.--Did I not command you, sir, now well nigh twenty months
ago, to retire from the forces of our cousin of Burgundy and return to
your native land, for our especial service?"
"Such commands may have been sent, my Liege, but they never reached
me," replied the young knight; "and when a mere rumour found its way
to me, I was on the eve of setting out on that fatal enterprise in
which I lost my liberty. I can appeal to the noble Lord of Croy when
the tidings came, to speak how much pain they gave me, and how ready I
was to abandon all and follow your commands."
"Be it so," answered Henry; "that point shall be inquired into. You
say you have been a prisoner. How long is it since you were set at
liberty?"
"But five days, Sire," replied the knight; "no longer than was needful
to journey from Montl'herry hither."
"And did you come alone?" demanded the King.
"No, Sire," said Richard of Woodville; "from the abbey at Arrouaise, I
was accompanied by my page, a man who aided in my escape from prison,
and two young novices journeying to Montreuil. I sent the two ladies
from Fremicourt on to Hesdin, under the escort of the man and the
page, and rode on hitherward myself, till my horse would go no
farther. The rest of the way I walked on foot."
"But before you reached Arrouaise, were you alone?" inquired the King.
"No, Sire; as far as Triel, I had but the man, the boy, and a clerk of
Sir John Grey's with me, who effected my liberation between them; but
after that I was accompanied by a small body of Burgundian horse, who
were escorting some Canonesses and these two novices on the way."
"Add, and burning monasteries, plundering villages, and cutting off
the stragglers of your Sovereign's army, sir knight," rejoined the
King, sternly.
Richard of Woodville gazed in his face for an instant in surprise, and
then broke into a gay laugh, saying,
"'I avow to God, quoth Harry,
I shall not lefe behynde,
May I mete with Bernard
Or Bayard the blynde.'
Now I understand your Grace, for I have come upon the track of these
men, and somewhat wondered to hear in the mouth of hinds and peasants,
the name of Woodville, or Vodeville as they called it, coupled with
curses. Nay, more, my Liege, I saw in the good town of Peronne,
through which I passed, a man in my own armour, at the head of a large
troop of men-at-arms."
"I saw him, too, Dickon;" cried the voice of old Sir Philip Beauchamp,
"as he followed our rear at Pont St. Remie; and would have sworn that
it was thyself, had I not known thy true heart from a boy."
"A strange tale, sir knight," said the King, without relaxing his
grave frown; "and the more strange, when coupled with the facts of
your having never received my commands to return, sent long ago, and
my messenger having brought me word, as if from your mouth, that you
could not obey, as you had taken service with the Duke of Burgundy for
two years and a day."
"He is a false knave, my Liege," replied the knight; "and, as to my
ever having forgotten your Grace's commands even for a day, not to
engage myself for long, that I can prove, for thank God my contract
with the good Duke John I have always kept about me. Here it is; and
if you look, royal Sir, you will see I have not been unmindful of my
duty."
Henry took the paper, which Woodville produced, from the young
knight's hand, and read it over attentively, pausing at one clause and
pronouncing the words aloud, "And it is, moreover, agreed between the
said high and mighty Prince Philip, Count of Charolois, and the said
knight, that should the King of England, Henry the Fifth of that name,
require the aid and service of the said Sir Richard of Woodville, he
shall be at liberty to retire at any time without let or hindrance
from the forces of the said Count of Charolois or of his father and
redoubted Lord, the Duke of Burgundy, together with all such men as
have accompanied the said knight from England; and, moreover, that he
shall receive all the passes, safe-conducts, and letters of protection
which may be needful for him to return to his own land in safety, and
that, without delay or hesitation, but even at a moment's notice."
The King when he had read these words gave a momentary glance around;
but then, turning to the young knight again, after examining the date
of the paper and the signature, "You were at this time assuredly in
your devoir," he said; "and this was but a month before my messenger
set out; but we have heard from Sir Philip de Morgan some strange
tales of adventures in the town of Ghent, which may have changed your
purposes."
"My Lord, I do beseech your Grace," answered Woodville, gravely, "to
give ear to no strange tales till they be fully proved. I have already
suffered from such stories, and have disproved them to one here
present much interested to know the truth;" and he turned his eyes
towards Sir John Grey, who stood beside the Earl of Warwick. "For one
so long a prisoner, not knowing where to find a single person who was
with him at a remote period, it is not easy in a moment to show the
real state of every fact alleged; but if your royal time may serve, I
am ready to tell the simple tale of the last two years; and if I
afterwards prove not to your own clear conviction, that every word I
speak is truth, send my head to the block when you will."
"You shall have full time, sir knight," replied the King; "at present,
it is late; and though we must sleep but little, yet some repose every
man must have. Your tale cannot be heard to-night. However, you now
know that you are charged first with refusing to serve your King in
arms against his enemies, which may, perhaps, be false. This paper
affords some presumption against the accusation--Secondly, you are
charged with following our royal host with men of Burgundy, and in
arms levying war against your Sovereign. You have, we are told, been
seen by many, so traitorously employed, and your name, you yourself
allow, is in the mouths of all the peasantry."
Henry paused a moment, as if expecting assent; but Woodville only
replied by a question, "May I ask, Sire," he said, "if a certain Sir
Simeon of Roydon is in your host?"
"Ha!" cried the King, his face lighting up, "what would you say on
that score?"
"Simply that I have suspicions, mighty Prince," replied the young
knight; "but _I_ will charge no man without proof. These two charges
are false, and I will make it manifest they are so; first by
testimony; then by my arm. Is there aught else against me?"
"Alas, there is," answered the King; "and the most grave of all. Have
you brought that letter which I sent for, my lord?"
"Yes, Sire," replied the Earl of Arundel, stepping forward and placing
a paper in the King's hands. "That is the one your Grace meant, I
believe."
"The same," answered Henry, gazing upon it with a countenance both
stern and sad. "Come forward, Sir Richard of Woodville. Is this your
hand-writing?"
Woodville looked at it, and recognised at once the letter which he had
written to Sir John Grey whilst in prison. "It is, my Liege," he
replied boldly, looking in the King's face with surprise. "I wrote
that letter; but I know not how it can affect me."
"That will be proved hereafter, sir," answered the King, in a stern
tone; "but remember, I have doomed my own blood to death for the acts
which this letter prompted; and, by my honour and my life, I will not
spare the man that wrote it. According to the right of every
Englishman, you shall be tried and judged by your peers; but when the
axe struck the neck of Cambridge, it crushed out the name of mercy
from my heart. In me you find no grace."
"My Lord, I need none," replied Richard of Woodville, in a tone firm,
yet respectful, "for I have done no wrong. I never yet did hear that
there was any crime in a captive writing to a friend for ransom. This
letter prompted nothing; and I am in much surprise to hear your royal
words announce therein a matter of complaint against me."
"The man to whom it was written, sir," said the King, "proved himself
a traitor, and took the gold of France to sell his sovereign's life,
and his country's welfare to the enemy."
Richard of Woodville gazed in surprise and bewilderment from the King
to Sir John Grey, and from Sir John Grey to the King, while the father
of her he loved looked not less astonished than himself. But Henry
after a short pause added aloud, "Remove him, Sir William Porter. If
God give us good success in the coming fight, he shall have fair trial
and due judgment. If the will of heaven fight against us, though
perchance he may escape to live, I do believe, from what I have known
of him in former days, that he will find bitter punishment in his own
heart for this dark deed;" and he struck his fingers sharply upon the
paper, which he still held in his hand.
"Some way--I know not what--you are deceived, my Liege," said Richard
of Woodville, with perfect calmness. "However, I have but one favour
to ask, and that is, that you will not let a false and lying
accusation so weigh against me as to deprive me of my right and
glory--that of fighting for my King, I would say; and I pledge you my
honour and my soul that, if the day be lost, which God forfend, I will
not survive the battle; if it be won, I will bring my head to your
Grace's feet, to do with as seems meet to you; for I am no traitor, so
help me heaven! and on that score I fear neither the judgment of man
nor that of God."
"I know that you are brave right well, Sir Richard," answered the
King; "but we will have no traitors fight upon our side."
The young knight cast his eyes bitterly towards the ground; and Henry
could see the fingers of his hand clenched tight into the palm; but
Sir Henry Dacre stepped forward, and said, "I will be his bail, my
Liege."
"And I too, royal sir," cried old Sir Philip Beauchamp; "I will plight
land and liberty, life and honour, that he is as true as my good
sword. Have I not known him from a babe?"
"You are his uncle, sir," answered the King; "and, in this case,
cannot judge."
"I am in no way akin to him, my gracious Sovereign," said Sir John
Grey, advancing from the side of the Earl of Warwick; "but I fear not
also to be his bail. My life for his, if he be not true."
Richard of Woodville crossed his arms upon his chest; and, raising his
head as his friends spoke, looked proudly round, saying, "There is
something to live for, after all."
At the same moment, Henry turned to the Duke of York, and spoke a word
or two with him and the Duke of Clarence.
"Your request cannot be granted," he said, in a milder tone; "but yet,
we will deal with you in all lenity, Sir Richard; and, therefore, we
will commit you to the ward of Sir John Grey, with strict orders,
however, that he hold you as a close prisoner till after your trial.
And now, I can hear no more; for the night is well spent, and we must
march at dawn. Take him, Sir John; you have a guard, and answer to me
for him with your life."
"I will, my Liege," replied Sir John Grey, advancing, and taking the
young knight's arm. "Come, Richard, you shall be my guest. I have no
doubts;" and, bowing to the King, he retired from the presence.
Sir Philip Beauchamp and Sir Harry Dacre followed quickly, and
overtook them on the stairs; and the old knight shook his nephew
playfully by the shoulders, exclaiming, "We will confound the knaves
yet, Dickon. But what is this letter?'
"Merely one I wrote to Sir John Grey," replied Richard of Woodville;
"beseeching him to communicate with the bearer touching my ransom."
"I never received it," replied Sir John Grey. "It did not reach my
hands; but, please God, I will see it ere I sleep."
"I must fight at this battle," said Richard of Woodville,
thoughtfully; "I must fight at this battle, my noble friends."
Sir John Grey replied not, but shook his head gravely, and led the way
to the house where he was lodged.