It was at the feast of Saint Michel, that King Henry, the third of his
name, with his Queen and sundrie of the nobles of the realm and a
marvellous train of estates and gentils, came to keep court in Ardenn,
at his castle of Kenilworth. The day was drawing to an end ere they
arrived: and it was a goodly sight to see this noble company coming over
the forest, till then so lonesome; and the last light of this day’s sun
glittering upon the helmets and lances of the King’s guard; likewise on
the gorgeous apparelling of their horses and trumpets, with their
banners unrolled, that went before his grace; also on the litters of the
Queen, covered with cloth of gold and with tapestry of rich colours,
brought from her own land beyond the sea.
This noble train, with all the spear-men attendant on the King, was like
unto a little army covering the paths and tracks, for many miles, as
they wound amongst the woods of Ardenn; or like unto some mighty river,
that flowing along, appears, where the shades open, in shining bends
upon the plain, and is lost again as they enter beneath the gloom; but
yet may you judge of their course throughout all the prospect. Like as
you may the broken lines of the great aqueduct, stretching over the
plains of our dear father of Rome; which, as we perceive its distant
points athwart those solitudes, we connect in our minds into one great
whole, grander in its sweep than it might have shown when it stood
complete.
There went before the King a hundred archers in pairs, sumptuously
apparelled, and having the feathers of their arrows stained with green;
the horns sounded before them through the woods: then fifty
demi-lancemen, two abreast; then fifty pike-men; then trumpets, with
their banners also displayed; then officers at arms, in their sur-coats,
the serjeants with their maces. In the midst was borne up the royal
banner, by six of the standard-bearers: the pipes of it were of silver,
and were slided along the banner-staff; which was held with horn in a
girdle of white leather, embroidered, worn by the King’s chief
standard-bearer.
The King’s Highness came riding on a noble grey, widely encompassed
about with pike-men, and attended by divers nobles of the realm and by
knights and gentils, without number. His Highness wore that day a cloak
of purple velvet, lined with yellow satin, and furred with martin and
ermine; on his head was a cap of black velvet, bearing a sable plume.
His countenance was goodly and gracious, and he often turned and spoke
to those about him.
On his right hand, rode the young Prince Edward, holding in his fiery
charger, yet looking as though he would fain spur him to the top of his
speed. Next to him rode the Archbishop of York. On the King’s left, was
his brother, the Earl of Cornwall. The Bishop of Coventry would have
been there, but he was then lying sick on his bed; but the Prior and
divers of the monks attended on the King.
First amongst the knights, that waited on his grace, was Gaston de
Blondeville, a young Provençal; whom King Henry had raised, for some
daring exploits in his dominions beyond the sea, to be a knight of his
household. He was of comely person and gallant air; and managed his
proud charger with such easy grace, as a lady might, with silken
bandage, guide a fawn. He wore a cloak of pale olive, lined and guarded
with rose colour; his cap was of velvet like to it, and he wore his
feathers in the French fashion: for he was of the Queen’s country, and
had all the gaiety of her nation in his countenance and ’haviour.
Yet were there some in the court, men of English ground, who liked him
not; it may be, because he was a stranger in our land, or that he bore a
proud defiance in his eye, or that they envied him his favour with the
King.
Some way before the Queen, went fifty of the foresters of Ardenn clothed
in green, sounding their horns. She was in her litter, tapestried with
cloth of gold, and she was compassed all about with her ladies and her
nobles and esquires. Her litter was borne by two brave coursers, right
richly trapped with velvet, and led by pages apparelled in sumptuous
liveries; other pages, in ‘broidered doublets, went beside her, or
following. Then came her master of the horses, leading her palfrey, very
richly appointed, the bridle and breast-chain studded with jewels,
followed by another of her palfreys, led by a page. Her Highness was
adorned in a close gown of velvet, ’broidered about with pearls, and
bearing upon her head a great hood of black velvet, richly sewed with
large pearls. Following her Highness, came her ladies and gentlewomen
mounted on fair palfreys, richly appointed and apparelled; a goodly
company.
Then came her Highness’s chariot empty, drawn by six horses, led by
pages in jackets of scarlet damask, with the English crown ’broidered on
their backs. They bore in their caps a white feather; dropping aside, in
the manner of France, whereat the people murmured, and well they might;
for such a sight of strangers, from her own land, the like was never
seen! But the Queen bore herself so graciously towards the people,
smiling upon them with her comely countenance, that she won away their
discontent. Other gentlewomen of her court followed her car, mounted on
palfreys.
Next came Eleanor, the widowed Countess of Pembroke, the King’s sister,
now Countess of Leicester, in her litter, with a sumptuous train: and
then Cincia, the Countess of Cornwall, the sister of the Queen, right
freshly apparelled, and sumptuously attended by noble dames and gentils;
and a sight of people followed, in the different liveries of their
masters.
Before the Queen, went her _mynstrells of music_; who, when they came
nigh to Kenilworth, began to blow upon their pipes, and to strum their
stringed instruments with most sweet noise—so that the bells of a
village there, which were rung for mirth, could not be heard so far.
Amongst the damsels attending the Queen, none were so fair as the lady
Isabel, daughter of the Earl of Arundel, and the lady Barbara, daughter
of the Earl of Huntingdon; who followed her Highness, on white palfreys.
Ychon of them was beautiful beyond thought: the lady Isabel was the more
stately and carried a higher brow; but Lady Barbara’s smiles were
blyther than the morn.
Soon as the towers of Kenilworth showed themselves upon the West, which,
if it had not been for the glowing spears of those on the battlements,
would hardly have been known from the dark woodtops,—soon as they
appeared, some halfscore of the foresters rode forward with their
bugles, to give sign of the King’s approach; but were straight sounded
back by the trumpets, which blew up a blast, that filled the forest, and
echoed to the very castle walls, ere the proud trumpeters would stop.
Then his Highness courteously commanded, that those who had come forth
so many miles, to welcome him on his way, should be appointed to
proclaim him at the gates. They waited not for second bidding; but,
tuning up so clear and sweet, set spurs to their hobbies, and flew
swiftly as the arrows from their own bows.
All the way hence to Kenilworth was lined with other troops of foresters
in green; who, at certain distances, saluted the King, as he passed,
with their bugles, in spite of the trumpets, that charged so loud and
shrill their minet-flourishes: and they followed in the Queen’s train.
The King’s pike-men and lance-men going after of all.
At the first sound of the bugles before the gate, you might see the
great banner of England raised upon the keep of Kenilworth. Then, the
chief wardour of the castle appeared upon the turret; though he stayed
not long there, but went down to join his lord, in their service at the
gate. The archers behind the battlements stood in order; other bow-men
and the lance-men ranged themselves behind the tower-walls, and the
trumpets there answered the summons, with a blast, that shook the
forest, and made the fair waters of the valley tremble; roughening the
portraiture of towers and woods, which had seemed to sleep upon their
surface, as in a glass of chrystal.
Then the Lord Constable, coming down from the keep, followed by a posse
of his officers, took to horse and went out to meet the King. As he
turned out of the gate, he met the Prior of Saint Mary’s, with the
twelve canons, and a long train processioning, all in full ceremony,
bearing precious reliques, to welcome his Highness; after them came the
priest and sundry of the parish-church, singing.
The press of people, from all the country about, was so thick, that
hardly could the monks make way among them. The castellan, a man proud
and jealous of his high place, was not well pleased, that they should
try to present themselves to the King, before himself; but they were
soon right glad to follow in his train, for strait as he appeared, the
crowd was forced back, and they passed, without difficulty, in that
wise, full three furlongs.
The castellan, coming in presence of his Highness, leaped from his
horse, and, on his knee, presented him the keys of the castle, on a rich
plate; the which his Highness readily delivered to him again, with a
gracious speech, bearing, that they were well in his custody. Then, the
Prior and canons of Saint Mary’s showed themselves in procession, with
banners, and chaunting sweet anthems, and his Highness looked kindly on
them; after which they went on to the Queen, and, paying duty, attended
her to the castle. But my Lord Constable, remounting his horse, rode
bareheaded before his Highness, to the very gates.
Immediately before the King, was borne his sword of justice, by the Lord
Hubert de Lacey; where, on the sheath, you might behold, in letters of
rubies, these words, “Truth and Right.” As he passed all the people
cried out, “King Henry, King Henry, long live King Henry! and blessings
on your sweet-favoured visage!”
Then, they threw forth on the air, for joy, among other tokens, corn and
flour; so that many of the nobles of the realm, nay, some of the King’s
guard, liked it not, for the flour-dust, falling on their garments,
disguised them like unto grinders of corn: but they held their peace, as
needs must, passing on in solemn stateliness.
Before the castle gates, a great show of the King’s bow-men were drawn
out to receive him, and the courts within were lined, and every tower
and battlement was thronged with his soldiers. There, too, were the
foresters ready at the gates, who, on the King’s approach tuned up their
merry bugles, with might and main; as though one breath sounded through
the whole of them. But, when the heralds passed under the towers, their
trumpets took their revenge, for they gave many blasts, that made every
court within shake for joy; and showed more like a triumph of war than a
flourish of festival. They on the ramparts now seemed to take the hint,
and joined them with such warrior-sounds of fierce disdain, that the
clear bugle seemed but as a shepherd-pipe beneath them, and, for a
season, was not heard at all.
Certes, the noise of the trumpets and cornets, the clanging of bells,
the trampling of horses over the bridge, the striking of swords upon
shields, with, ever and anon, the shouts of the multitude, astounded
cattle and fowl in the woods, far and wide. Old wives and they that
might not leave their homes for sickness could hear the mingled uproar;
and could know as surely, when the King reached Kenilworth, as those,
who had journeyed thither to behold him. And many an outlaw in the
forest, who feared to show his face among the crowd, lay hearkening in
his den, or stalked under the old oaks, while he watched the minutes of
the coming twilight, and reckoned on the booty he should seize from
careless travellers, returning, at night, to distant towns.
Some too there were, who, in the pathless holds of this forest, heard
the far-off voice of joyance and society, with bitter grief; finding
out, too late, they were not made for that lonesomeness of heart their
thoughtless vices had condemned them to. Alas! for such, let them shrive
and betake themselves, as penitents, to holy cloister.
When the Queen’s litter came near the gates of the castle, her minstrels
of music sang with most sweet glee, and the bugles saluted her as she
passed into the barbican, or first tower of defence; but, soon as she
appeared on the draw-bridge, the trumpets from the ramparts blew up a
flourish, and then the minstrels stopped, though they had not finished
their fit. And they did well; for hardly could there be heard the
trampling of the horses’ hoofs upon the bridge, nor the distant music in
the courts before the King. The walls and turrets, thronged with faces,
seemed to be alive, and to shout, as with one voice, “Queen Eleanor!
Queen Eleanor! long live Queen Eleanor!”—but some few were heard to
shout, “Away with the foreigners!—away with all foreigners!” which the
good Queen seemed not to hear, though she guessed in her heart what they
said; and many a noble knight and lady near her knew well. She, with
unchanged countenance, showed only sweet smiles to those numberless
eyes, darting from the walls and battlements, all turned upon her
litter, as it passed over the bridge, glittering in the last beams of
this day’s sun, and then entered beneath that deep and dark archway of
the great tower, leading into the base court.
Beyond, in the sunshine, could be seen the King’s Highness, preceded by
the Lord Constable, and having the Archbishop on his right and Prince
Edward on his left, passing forward to the upper court; where, on the
steps, stood the marshals of the hall, the stewards, the esquires of the
household, with many officers of the castle, waiting to receive him,
some with chains of gold on their necks: the royal banner waving over
all. They stood so thick, looking over one another’s shoulders, face
above face, on the steps there, that they seemed like a rampart of
heads; while, below them, in the same court, the lance-men and yeomen of
the household stood waiting to receive the Queen.
And truly it was a pleasureful sight, to behold that vision of light
appearing beyond the deep portal, under which stood, on either hand, the
wardours in their niches, to the number of eight; so dim, they showed
like shadows more than substance, albeit, they did not lack of that. And
a more delightful sight it was to behold the Queen and all her train,
winding through that dark arch into the beams beyond; the rich trappings
of steeds and men, their breast-plates and spears and steel caps, all
glancing in the setting sun. There, too, you might see, through the
higher bars of the portcullis, the windows of the great chamber hung out
with tapestry of silk and cloth of gold.
But that, which caused some surprise to those who watched without, was a
sudden turmoil, that appeared around the King in the court, just as the
Queen’s litter was advancing forth of the archway. A man was seen
forcing himself among the guards, towards his Highness, who turned his
face backwards in the sun, as if to see what was going on; and seemed to
rein in his steed, while he held forth his right arm to Sir Gaston de
Blondeville, who, with cap in hand, leaned forward on his courser, as if
receiving some command. The while, the heads and spears of soldiers
gathered round, moving in tumultuous hurry, rising and falling
incessantly, like unto those stormy white tops coming on over a darkened
sea.
On a sudden, the King disappeared: some thought he had fallen from his
steed, struck by the hand of the stranger; and then, such was the throng
of people beyond the portal to get forward for more certainty, that
hardly could the Queen’s guard keep them back, till his Highness was
seen ascending the steps of the high court.
At last, out of the midst of the confusion a shield was seen raised upon
the traversed spears of six soldiers, and borne towards the outer gate,
having upon it a man stretched, as if dead. But at the great portal the
soldiers stopped, and drew aside to make way for the Queen; his
Highness, meanwhile, with his nobles and young knight, had withdrawn
into the state apartments.
When her Highness was gone by, they brought the man upon the shield into
the free air without the walls, and lowered their burden on the grass;
but the tumult of the people was so great, (they suspecting that he had
attempted the Kings life) that the soldiers with their spears had much
ado to save him from their fury, or to keep a little space open around
him.
He was a man of goodly appearance, that lay there, seeming without life.
Anon, he began to stir himself, and in a little while opened his eyes;
the which, when the people saw it, redoubled their fury; and they
demanded, that he should be had to prison, for “he has assailed the life
of our good King!” With that they made such a roaring, that the shouts
of the soldiers, who wanted to set them right, could not be heard, the
women brawling louder than all of them together.
Thus it went for some time: and then, the noise being hushed, they found
out the man was innocent of what they had suspected.
When the stranger had recovered himself a little, he stared wildly; and,
raising himself up, he looked round him, as if examining the countenance
of every one, whom curiosity or anger had made to bend over him. And so
he looked again and again, till they asked him, if he thought he saw the
countenance of any one there, whom he knew. Then he fetched a deep sigh,
and said, “I as surely saw him as I now breathe, but he is not here.”
Divers present then asked him, of whom he spoke, but he only muttered to
himself, “I could not be deceived; it is impossible for me ever to
forget him.” Then he shook from limb to limb, and was nigh going off
into a swoon again. The people, meanwhile, pressed upon the soldiers to
know what all this meant; and curiosity and pity began to take the place
of rage.
The tale went, that, as King Henry had approached the entrance of the
second court, this man, who had passed the portal amongst the King’s
horses, at the risk of his life, came beside him, and, having fixed his
eyes with the greatest attention upon a knight of the King’s household,
cried out, “Justice! most noble Henry.” Then, as if unable to utter
something he would have spoken, he fell down in strong convulsions, and
was nigh being trampled to death. His Highness, seeing the condition of
the man, had commanded he should be taken forth of the court, and aid
administered to him; and this was all the soldiers could tell.
There were some amongst the crowd who thought they had seen him before,
and questioned him of his name, and wherefore he had presumed to
approach the King in such manner; to all which he would nothing answer;
but seemed heavy at heart, and as if his very sadness would not let him
speak; only these words he uttered, once or more,—“It was he himself! I
should have known him at Cairo!”
Some still said they had seen the poor man before; naithless he proved
to be a stranger in Kenilworth. When he could walk, he was led back to
the little hostel, where he had taken up his lodging, and there he
remained closely hid from the eyes of every one, all that night.